Flight Rising Discussion

There's something about Stormcatcher
- an unexpected romance
by Anonymous Arcane Sprite

Arcanist Starnoodle is a dreamy, long and quiet god from Starfall Isles. His life is going nowhere until he meets Stormcatcher , a noodle-y, handsome man with a passion for stars.

Arcanist takes an instant disliking to Stormcatcher and the serious and bossy ways he learnt during his years in Shifting Expanse.

However, when a emperor tries to injure Arcanist, Stormcatcher springs to the rescue. Arcanist begins to notices that Stormcatcher is actually rather soft at heart.

But, the pressures of Stormcatcher's job as a deity leave him blind to Arcanist's affections and Arcanist takes up work to try an distract himself.

Finally, when workaholic boss, Lightweaver , threatens to come between them, Stormcatcher has to act fast. But will they ever find the unexpected love that they deserve?

"I fell in love with the sparkling Stormcatcher . Last night I dreamed that he was in my teapot."
- The Daily Tale

"I could do better."
- Zob Gloop

This Love is Big But It's Fluffy
- In the style of Taylor Swift
by Stormcatcher

We were both fuzzy when I first saw you.
You GET BACK TO WORK and the flashback starts:
Tidelord's pool is where I'm standing in the spring air.

What are you doing with that new lover?
Who wears those spiffing legwarmers,
When I wear a wild hardhat,
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for is my pointy legs.

So this is me screaming,
Standing in front of you saying, "GET BACK TO WORK!"
And I go back to spring all the time.
It turns out freedom ain't nothing but yelling frostily,
Wishing I'd realised Daddy no love.
I'd go back to spring, turn around and do some crying.
I go back to spring quite often.

Intern, let's do some shouting,
This love is big but it's fluffy.
It's a love story, intern,
Just be my sweaty rasa.

We are never ever ever going to try shedding sharply together,
We are never ever ever going to try shedding sharply together,
You go talk to your Mather, talk to my Glittermom, talk to me,
But we are never ever ever ever going to try shedding sharply together,
Just running elegantly forever.

GET BACK TO WORK intern, GET BACK TO WORK.

"Look Shadowbinder," growled Tidelord, with a proud glare that reminded Shadowbinder of smart monkeys. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want dominance. You owe me 7518 pounds."

Shadowbinder looked back, even more jumpy and still fingering the bendy sausage. "Tidelord, I am your mother," she replied.

The Arcanist had always hated deprived The Observatory with its miniature, modern mountains. It was a place where he felt concerned.

He was a giving, sympathetic, whiskey drinker with pretty thighs and greasy lips. His friends saw him as an alive, agreeable author. Once, he had even brought an outrageous injured bird back from the brink of death. That's the sort of man he was.

The Arcanist walked over to the window and reflected on his chilly surroundings. The clouds danced like chatting maggots.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Windsinger . Windsinger was a witty lover with spiky thighs and sloppy lips.

The Arcanist gulped. He was not prepared for Windsinger.

As Arcanist stepped outside and Windsinger came closer, he could see the condemned glint in his eye.

Windsinger gazed with the affection of 5005 scheming delicious dogs. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want Dominance."

Arcanist looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the squidgy ruler. "Windsinger, I like big butts and I cannot lie," he replied.

They looked at each other with confident feelings, like two moaning, mute monkeys bopping at a very patient funeral, which had trance music playing in the background and two spiteful uncles singing to the beat.

Arcanist studied Windsinger's spiky thighs and sloppy lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Arcanist in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Windsinger."

Windsinger looked fuzzy, his emotions raw like a gloopy, glorious guillotine.

Arcanist could actually hear Windsinger's emotions shatter into 9755 pieces. Then the witty lover hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Arcanist's nerves tonight.

THE END

The Holiday to Industrial Tempest Spire
- a summer's tale

Lightweaver is a peculiar cleaner from cosy the Beacon. She leads a wild life. However, all that changes when Lightweaver books a summer holiday to industrial Tempest Spire.

At first Lightweaver finds Tempest Spire very wild. Then there's the mysterious, special homemaker, Shadowbinder, who makes her feel hot.

When Shadowbinder invites her on a jogging expedition, Lightweaver begins to realise that Shadowbinder is a deeply predatory and tactless woman.

Lightweaver knows in her heart that Shadowbinder is the woman for her. However, to secure her happiness, Lightweaver must fend off the hilarious fishmonger, Stormcatcher, who wants to get his claws into Shadowbinder.

Using her giant bees and a mutual love of Dominance, Lightweaver sets out to snare Shadowbinder once and for all. But will the special cleaner return her affections?

The Spotty Kettle

Lightweaver looked at the spotty kettle in her hands and felt jumpy.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her creepy surroundings. She had always loved crowded Hewn City with its grubby, grisly gates. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel jumpy.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Shadowbinder. Shadowbinder was a brave volcano with wobbly toenails and squat lips.

Lightweaver gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a tactless, gentle, brandy drinker with sticky toenails and slimy lips. Her friends saw her as a dull, disgusted dolphin. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved a vain puppy.

But not even a tactless person who had once jumped into a river and saved a vain puppy, was prepared for what Shadowbinder had in store today.

The clouds danced like swimming serthis, making Lightweaver anxious.

As Lightweaver stepped outside and Shadowbinder came closer, she could see the horrible glint in her eye.

"Look Lightweaver," growled Shadowbinder, with a wild glare that reminded Lightweaver of brave hedgehogs. "I hate you and I want a hug. You owe me 6719 treasure."

Lightweaver looked back, even more anxious and still fingering the spotty kettle. "Shadowbinder, let's dance," she replied.

They looked at each other with sparkly feelings, like two spotty, slobbering sprites chatting at a very special dinner party, which had drum and bass music playing in the background and two violent uncles walking to the beat.

Lightweaver studied Shadowbinder's wobbly toenails and squat lips. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Lightweaver. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Shadowbinder. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Lightweaver. "Now get your wobbly toenails out of here before I hit you with this spotty kettle."

Shadowbinder looked cross, her wallet raw like a misty, motionless map.

Lightweaver could actually hear Shadowbinder's wallet shatter into 6719 pieces. Then the brave volcano hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of brandy would calm Lightweaver's nerves tonight.
THE END