[arcticlights]

Readopting this kid, can't develop them right.

This is going to be simple, tell me what they find nostalgic and why.
You have a minimum of 500 words (maximum is 3000) & one extra.

Code: Select all

username:
name:
gender:
What do they find nostalgic & why?:
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Ends on Sunday, September 9th 10pm PST

[chanhee.]

username: whizzer.
name:
gender:
What do they find nostalgic & why?: res w pokemon!
Extra:

OWL CHILD
i love owls,,,,

[mediocre mackerel]

username: gentle .wav
name: Archie
gender: Male


The forest was beautiful. It was beautiful, and it was his home. Even though Archie didn't get to play on an Xbox or gameboy like the other boys, it didn't matter. The forest was full of wonders that nothing other could match. Archie was always out in the Timber Forest, finding new and interesting things. He made a small hut of sticks, and with great effort, made it sturdy enough to climb on. After the rain came, Archie would go out and find logs to flip over, finding snails with small spiraling shells, big shiny blue beetles, and wriggly worms. He sometimes made mudcakes, adding wild berries, small twigs, and crunchy leaves, then drying it hard in the sun. Archie's hands were rarely clean. When the leaves started to turn fiery orange colors in the fall, Archie would be forced to wear a big puffy parka by his mom. Although it was scarce, it would snow in the winter. Archie would have so much fun frolicking in the snow, making sculptures and snow angels, then after a good long day outside, come back home to the smell of warm rosemary candles and hot chocolate. Very rarely at night, Archie could see fireflies, their pale glow gently flickering in the dim moonlight.


His home wasn't the best, however. Living in such a remote place caused frequent blackouts. But to Archie, blackouts were better than when the lights were on. When he wasn't outside frolicking in the trees, him and his family would make candles for fun. He could almost remember how it felt, holding the limp white string and dipping it into hot wax, adding pretty flowers he found in the woods; rosemary was his favorite. The smell of it was so comforting and homely, like a big hug from a close friend. When Archie couldn't sleep, his mom would bring in a candle of his favorite scent, lulling him back to sleep.


Archie knew his home, the Timber Forest like the back of his paw. That was, before the unusual people with hard yellow hats came and started pointing at things. Then they started to bring loud yellow machines with terrifying jaws, whirring and cutting away at the trees, hauling the fallen trees away. One building by building, Timber Forest became Timber-town. The memory of the joy in homemade candles started to fade, like an old monochrome photograph. The need for candles flickered away, and Archie was soon out with new friends, playing Xbox and gameboys like he should have long ago. Archie soon moved away from his hometown into an industrialized area as he matured into adulthood, leaving his old memoirs behind.


It was only when he visited his mother back at home when he remembered those old monochrome memories again. He remembered his small wooden hut and the decaying wet logs with buggy wonders. The earthy smell of fresh mudcakes. The faint flickering of fireflies in the pale moonlight. How he would always be scolded about his grimy hands after a nice day in the forest, or when he refused to wear his big puffy parka. He smelled that smell no one knows the word for after it rains, and the faint scent of rosemary candles, and remembered the good ol' times. Timber Woods was still Timbertown, but his home, and his memories, were still there and never forgotten.



credits:
leaf candle clock rosemary (art by me)

[astrohund]

res. with staring up at night skies and running through the woods.

[bakuraas.]

king lulu deer on da

username: Golden-Boy
name: Arlow Brakenbrooke
gender: Male

What do they find nostalgic & why?: [2810/3000]

Age Five, Orphanage, Noon.

I thought it was just going to be another day. It had just hit noon and our orphanage manager was already lighting up the scented candles and bringing everyone to the room we used for nap time. Some kids didn't like the candles because their noses were sensitive, but I loved the candles. They always smelled so nice, and they gave off a pretty glow when the blinds were all shut. The ones for nap time were always cinnamon scented. I wasn't so sure about them at first, but I learned to love the smell.

I was just laying down, trying to lull myself to sleep while thinking of what had happened in the week prior. A sweet kalon came in with her wife, and they looked to some of the children in the orphanage, including me. I wasn't sure what was going on at first, since I had never been looked at for adoption, but I figured it out quickly. They said that they would think about this place, and then they left. I'm was sure that had meant that they weren't interested in any of us, and were going to some fancy rich orphanage for the abandoned kids of smart kalons.

As I was laying down though, the orphanage manager poked my back and told me to get up. I wondered what was going on, until I saw the faces of the two women from last week. The taller one held a paper in her mouth, and there were a lot of words I didn't understand, but the one that was the most important was the big bold letters at the top; "Adoption Form". I was brought to a smaller room with the two ladies, and the orphanage manager started to talk to them. They all sounded so happy.

There was a candle in this room too. The manager saw me looking at it, and light the candle so that I could smell it. I was expecting more cinnamon, but the smell that hit my instead was Lavender. Of course, I didn't know what lavender actually smelled like as a kit, so I just described it as "pretty flowery smell". I loved this scent too. I had learned the word candle, it was one of the only words I did know, and I just repeated it over and over again between taking sniffs of the candle.

The two ladies who had just signed the paper to be my mothers giggled, and the shorter one pat me on the head. It was really nice at the time, and it was sort of how I started to trust them. We left later that day as a family. Me and my new mothers. We took the Lavender candle too. The manager said that it was a goodbye present for me. I miss that place sometimes, but everytime I get a scent of cinnamon candles, I'll remember the orphanage I grew up in, and the friends I had.


cxndy lace on da

Age Six, Home, Dawn.

I had never really experienced any of the seasons besides summer and winter in the orphanage. I never really went outside, and we always ate the same things because the orphanage didn't have too much money. I knew that the summer was very hot and that the candles smelled like everything at once because they were all being heated up by the sun. It smelled really gross. And Winter was really cold, and the candles didn't smell like anything because the orphanage manager wanted to make sure that the candles provided enough heat for us all. We weren't able to use the scented candles because they weren't as hot.

I left the orphanage at the end of summer, and I thought the next logical season would be Winter. I expected to wake up to nothing in the air, no scent of any candles whatsoever, because that was what I was used to. However, when I woke up that day, I smelled something...different. It smelled like some kind of pastry, but I was confused. There were never any scents in the wintertime, right? I hopped down the stairs to see what was making that scent, and I found my mothers eating breakfast, and right next to them was an orange candle. It couldn't have been like the cinnamon candles back at the orphanage, because the ones there were more brown than they were orange.

I tried to lift myself up onto one of the chairs, but my moms noticed me and helped lift me next to the candle. I heard them giggling as I sniffed the candle. It smelled like something I had never smelled before, but it smelled really good! I was really happy to smell something when it was winter! Or, well, I thought it was winter before my moms explained it to me. They said that the candle was supposed to smell like something called 'Pumpkin Pie', and that it was a candle they bought that was only available at the store during the fall season. I didn't know what fall was at the time, and I told them that I had no clue what they were talking about. I think my shorter mom had some kind of internal panic, because she fell out of her chair, and yelled that we had to go outside immediately.

My moms brought the candle with us, and dressed me up with a big scratchy shirt that was really warm before we went outside. When we got outside, I was... amazed to say the least. Everything looked so pretty, with reds and oranges and yellows decorating the typically green trees, and with a bunch of crunchy leaves falling to the ground, making the world just as colorful as the trees. There was gusts of wind, and I could still smell the candle. It was my first taste of autumn, and the first thing that I did was run off into leaves, with the candle and my moms, obviously.


alaskass on da

Age Sixteen, Home, Late Afternoon.

School was stressful, it is for everyone, but I felt as if I had nothing to live for once I got to my junior year in highschool. Everyone was stressing me to look for scholarships and to get into the best schools. Everyone was saying that I wasn't doing anything with my life if I wasn't working or looking for colleges. Honestly, I felt that I wouldn't be able to live past eighteen, and that once I graduated highschool, it was like the world telling me that my time on this earth was up. I didn't have any direction.

My moms wouldn't accept that, and they were worried about me hurting myself or others. They tried putting me in therapy for my mental health problems, but none of it worked. Everything seemed so dead to me. The only thing I ever looked forwards to anymore was going home and watching a candle burn on my windowsill before I passed out with tears in my eyes. I assure you they weren't sadness tears, it's just that looking at a big burning light in a dark room for over two hours straight doesn't exactly make your eyes want to cry less.

One day though, when I came home from school, my moms called me into my room. I was a bit concerned at first, would they be angry at me because of the poetry I wrote about how I no longer wanted to exist, would they be crying and wanting to hold me forever just to keep me safe? With all the thoughts rushing through my head, I walked up the steps, only to find my parents smiling towards me with a large box in their arms. Large enough where it needs two capable ladies to hold it, at least.

I was confused, but they explained before I could ask. They told me that they knew I thought that I would never get anywhere because College was scary and expensive. They were right, but I didn't know how it related to the box, that is, until they opened it. It was an apprentice's kit in candle making. I cried, but this time it wasn't from looking at a candle too long or from thinking about my possible death, but because I finally had a chance. At least, I thought I did, and my parents thought so as well.

Instead of saving money for colleges like the other students, I was now saving money for an old abandoned bookshop down the road from where I lived. The owner said they'd make sure to save it for when I was older. I had a plan to turn that old abandoned store into my own shop. A scented candle shop. If there was anything I knew, it was candles. And if there was anything I loved, it was scented candles. So it only made sense. I sometimes wonder how I didn't think of it before.


crookedantlers on da

Age Twenty-Five, Arlow's Books and Candles, Opening Time.

Someone came in with a problem that I had never solved. I had done everything involving candles at this point. I had reformed them into new shapes, I had made an almost burned-out candle like new again, I had even made a candle the size of a pencil's lead for a client wanting it for an extreme art project. However, this request caught me off guard. The customer asked if I could change a candle's scent. At first, I was going to just say I couldn't do it, that I didn't know how, but their explanation made me feel like I had to find a way for them.

They wanted it because they associated the current scent with their son, and due to the family now being broken at all angles, he wanted the scent changed to something else, something calming, and something that smelled of home. I told him that I was on it, but when he left, I barely knew how to start. The candle was intricate and carved in with a beautiful image of a bow and arrow, so I couldn't have just made a new one with a different scent. I needed to figure out how to do this, but then I realized something. I realized that there was one scent that always smelled like home, and that maybe, if I went back there, I'd be able to find the inspiration I needed to figure out a solution.

Orphanage, Noon.

It was still up, it was still running. In fact, it seemed to have gotten better than it was when I was there. There was air conditioning, there was a large yard for the children to play in, and there was a full fridge of food. I tried my best not to barge in, knowing that around this time was when children would be sleeping. Halfway through the door, I smelled it. Cinnamon. It smelled just like it did when I was here. Once I got inside completely, I looked up with a smile at the kalon who greeted me. She was wrinkling and had greying hair, but I could still recognize her from a mile away, almost like it had been no time at all.

"It's been a long time, Arlow."
"It certainly has, Mrs.Seles."

We laughed silently at our greeting of eachother, but Mrs.Seles knew what I needed. She had been wanting updates on my life ever since I was adopted, and knew that I might come to her orphanage again, Perhaps just to smell the cinnamon candles again. After explaining, she already had everything I needed. She told me that once, all the candles at the orphanage smelled awful, but she found a way to make them smell like the sweetest cinnamon. With real cinnamon sticks! She showed me how to change the smell of a candle by using a small candle from the orphanage as a test subject. No matter how strong the scent, nothing outdid the real thing.

Arlow's Books and Candles, Midnight.

The small candle had taken about twelve minutes to completely change, but the candle I had to work with was much larger. Mrs.Seles had provided me with a lot of cinnamon sticks, and by a lot I mean around 2,300 sticks. I wanted to ask about how she got those, but I decided it wasn't worth a whole other conversation. I was losing daylight- and moonlight. The customer was coming to pick up the candle soon, and I needed to get it done. I couldn't fail them, they didn't deserve that kind of disappointment. It took over twelve hours to get the entire candle smelling like cinnamon, but I thought, by the end, it was worth it.

The customer picked it up in the morning, and though my anxieties took a hold of me as I passed it over, I hoped that I was anxious over nothing. That's when I heard crying. I panicked a bit. Did I fail? Did they hate it? I looked up towards the customer, but they were smiling through their tears. They held the candle close to their heart and failed to speak for a moment. But when they did, I couldn't help but have a smile spread across my face. They simply thanked me, but it was so much more than that to me. They were in tears, and it was almost like I had saved them from having to get rid of something they love because of something uncontrollable.

The smell of home. That nostalgic smell of cinnamon from my home in the orphanage, the nostalgia for candles in general, the same desire for the past that fueled my future. It felt validated by the act of helping others, I thought that my mothers would be so proud of me. And they were.


snowbellss on da

Age Thirty, Outside Arlow's Books and Candles, Early Afternoon.

I had to say goodbye to the shop today, as well as my entire town. I had to move away to the big city, even though I would have done anything not to. My family and friends were there to help me pack up the moving van for my shop, the only thing I was taking with me. The sense of bittersweet moments filled the atmosphere when we started packing the last boxes, and I decided to go inside. Just to check to see if anything was left besides the shelves and the counters. That's when my nose caught a whiff of something, or perhaps multiple somethings, and I turned my head towards the scents. A soft, flickering candle. Short and colored brown. Smelling of cinnamon. And right next to it, another candle. Contrasting the cinnamon with a light purple appearance, and the scent of lavender. And almost hiding behind the lavender, a big orange candle, smelling of pumpkin pie. I almost felt like crying as I went to kneel by the three candles, watching them flicker by the window.

I took them with me once I went back outside, seeing the moving van was completely packed and ready to go. Everyone looked towards me and the candles, and saw me start to tear up, smiling as I felt the rush of nostalgia hit me. The orphanage, my mothers, my first taste of fall, the start of my career, the problem solved with help from an old guardian. All of it flooded into my heart and made it burst with love for everyone who had ever cared for me. In that moment, I realized that thinking about the past, and loving what had happened is okay, but there's always something in the future that you'll feel the same about in due time.

So, what do I think is nostalgic? A simple answer would be candles, but, the one thing that always makes me think of the good times of the past, beyond candles and the scents of the past, is togetherness. Being in a group with people who I love and care about, and who love and care about me. That feeling of being home, being protected, and being encouraged to follow your dreams before you fall into the dull life you always feared. Items pass. Events pass. Locations Pass. Everything goes away at some point, and it isn't something we can stop entirely. However, there is one thing that can always remain to allow you a glimpse into the past. Your emotions, and your ability to know that you are loved.

Nowadays, when I sit down with my new friends in my new town, Sometimes I still feel like I'm all the way back home. Thanks to the people who care about me, and the people who would never let me tear myself down for anything. The candles and scents are there too, of course, but it's just because I'm a candle maker. I promise.

hltzmnn on da

ampraeh on da
Extra: Mystery Customer x Arlow



whizavy on da

[Avisowl]

Omg I’ve been looking for an owl Kal ahhhh

[notwearingsocks]

┌──────────┐
usernamexxxxxxx scarlet_wolf
namexxxxxxxxxxx argus fafner
genderxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx male
extraxxxxxxxxxxxx moodboard
└──────────┘

what do they find nostalgic & why?

indentargus could feel the heat of the scorching desert sand even through the thick soles of the leather boots that he was wearing; the small reptilian creature that perched upon his shoulder chirped it’s contentment, silver-gold scales gleaming in the harsh sunlight that beamed unfiltered from above.
indentargus had been in egypt for the past six years and had still yet to adapt to the heat, as his dragon companion had; the man was used to cool pine woods and snow that peppered mountaintops and lakes that froze over swiftly in the harshest of winters. egypt, while a fascinating place of magic, was definitely not argus’s forte.
indentand now he was headed home.
indentin a secret world of magic unknown to normal, unmagical folk, argus was both a wizard, author, and explorer; he had a wand tucked away in one of his back pockets and a small notebook in the other, full of his findings from his trip.
indentthe creature upon his shoulder was not tiny, but still small, about the size of a large chihuahua, and it had leathery wings folded tightly to its sides. silvery golden scales were thick upon its body, an armor-like exterior that protected the animal. cold-blooded, the dragon, gypsy, as argus had named her, was at home in the hot desert sun.
indentbut she would adapt, as all dragons did; they were incredibly versatile, as argus had learned, and she would be perfectly happy in argus’s home.
- – -
argus's journal entries
- – -
december 1st, 05:47:03 am.
indentgypsy has been an incredible companion in my travels. she braved the deserts with me, explored forbidden tombs that were littered with curses, and listened to my endless jabbering as i took my notes and spoke aloud to her.
and now she will come home with me.
indentas a wonderful specimen of the sand-hopper dragon species, gypsy’s species as a whole is especially designed for sudden changes in environment; they can “hop” from situation to situation with minimal amounts of stress.
indenti do sincerely hope that gypsy is no different.
december 3rd, 10:12:48 am.
indenttoday was our last day in egypt. gypsy seems aware that something is changing, that something is going to happen.
indenti talk to her frequently, but i am not sure that she understands, however smart she may be. she stole my notebook earlier, and watched as i tore apart my entire hut searching for it, only to give a cheeky chirp and reveal the notebook in question, tucked under her wing.
indentat home, i have many species of dragon living in the pine forest that i have resided in for my twenty-seven years of live. standard, garden-variety dragons that feed off of my vegetable patch, massive, black-winged dark-biters that sport fangs as long as the length of my arm, mole-wings, flightless, blind creatures with dark scales and tiny limbs that burrow under my home (causing, once or twice before, large amounts of damage).
indentgypsy will be the first non-native dragon that i bring home with me.
december 3rd, 06:57:03 pm.
indenti can recall the first time that i met gypsy.
indentas i trudged across the desert, my eyes wide for any sign of life beneath the sand, i saw movement; a tiny sliver of wing that peeked from the sand before disappearing like a flighty dream.
indentmy ultimate destination was the pyramid that i could see upon the horizon, distorted with the heat waves rolling from the hot tundra. supposedly, the king buried there had once had a dragon companion, an elusive species of desert-wing that was impossible to spot and even more impossible to touch.
indentbefore i could even take another step, the tiny dragon in the sand reappeared, only eyes this time, black pupils set in a silver-gold face that blinked up at me briefly.
indenti spoke to her, as i do so frequently even now; “hello,” i said, freezing in my tracks so as not to step on her or scare her away.
indentshe chirped back; i had never met a dragon that responded to human speech, and yet gypsy… she chirped at me and wiggled from the sand, exposing her entire body (which was, albeit, not that impressive, and yet her coloration was a gorgeous sight in the brightness of the desert and her wings were tucked incredibly neatly against her sides, reminding me suddenly of origami).
indenti crouched, then, the scholar side of my brain taking full control as i examined her; she remained unfazed, only peeking back up at me with her head cocked slightly.
indent“sand-hopper,” i can remember noting aloud, scrambling to grab my notebook and scrawl the words into the pages. “resident of the desert, they burrow beneath cacti, absorbing the water from the plant and hunting lizards and small owls that nest in the cacti. typically yellow in coloration, other appearance varieties include dark green and white.”
indenti squinted closer at gypsy, at her golden-silver scales that seemed to ripple like a smooth basin of molten iron. she was brilliant in color and curious in nature, as i could tell even by this brief meeting; she slid forward, belly low, as tentative dragons usually displayed, and sniffed lightly at me before trying to snatch my notebook from my hand.
indent“hey!” i had yelped, tugging it away. “that’s mine.”
indentshe stared at me, and chirped again.
indenti paused.
indentand then i reached out to her.
indent“come with me,” i invited softly, palm outstretched in her direction.
indentand then it was no longer me, i was no longer alone; it was us.
december 4th, 09:10:56 am.
indentgypsy loves it here.
indentshe has made friends with the common garden dragons, has fought over small scraps of food with the much larger dragons, ultimately winning her fair share of the meal. she is resilient and will let no dragon walk on her.
indentand i love it here, too.
indenti was hit with a sudden rush of longing as i walked up the dirt trail towards my cabin. the scent of pine, mingling with the unforgettable smell of dragon smoke, was familiar, nostalgic, even.
indentand i knew that i was home.

[yuzen]

mark maybe :o

[doge fruit]

eh, dropping out

[whisky]

Mark !