#celestial backdrop

[gigivas]

1K GIGI Prompts Collections 'Monochrome Surrealism: Chess, Moon, and Mystery' 5819 Free 10 pages out of 1000 pages

Get Free 10 pages MTMEVE00553G_78_0001 – 1K GIGI Prompts Collections – Monochrome Surrealism, Chess, Moon, and Mystery 5819 10PagesDownload 1K GIGI Prompts Collections ‘Monochrome Surrealism: Chess, Moon, and Mystery’ 5819 series provides two documents, one document is 10 pages of prompts in 1000 pages, available for free download. One document is the complete 1000 pages of prompts, this is a…

[mlpoutofcontext]

[detdomchik]

A picture with meaning with the character of my friend and favorite boss WyvWyrm. The character's name is Sa'mealun (original (ua) - Са'меалун) and he is very fashionable and cool as you can see. AND BOSS (WyvWyrm) TOO.

https://www.tumblr.com/amongussy - link to the author of the character and my favorite boss WyvWyrm (I love you) (you have a cool character) (and all the other characters are cool) (well I wouldn't draw and I wouldn't be a fan if they weren't cool).

[100-art]

Candle Flame Poster

[wallpapersmonster]

🌌✨ Dive into the magical world of our latest creation, Starlight Ballet! This enchanting wallpaper captures a breathtaking scene of a ballerina gracefully floating through the night sky. With her vibrant blue and green hair flowing like the cosmos around her, she brings a touch of whimsy to the celestial backdrop. 🌟

Dressed in a delicate white dress, our dancer embodies elegance and poise, perfectly harmonizing with the starry night. It's a dynamic tableau that invites you to lose yourself in the beauty of the universe. Whether you're an anime lover or just someone who appreciates stunning art, this wallpaper is sure to inspire your imagination! 🎨💫

Want to add this dreamy scene to your collection? You can easily embrace the cosmic dance by grabbing it right here: Starlight Ballet!

Let the stars guide your dreams and your screens with this mesmerizing piece. We hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed creating it! 💖

[labradoritedreams]

[leyiorr]

i wonder what i look like in your eyes.

gojo ⋮ geto ⋮ sukuna ⋮ toji ⭑ how they see you and what you are to them.

¡! wc: 1.1k

¡! genre: tooth-rotting fluff, awful + contagious cases of lovesick men, you're literally their reason for existence

¡! an: i dropped this on another account but then abandoned it so its being posted here lolz!

☆ - satoru gojo ⋮ a nebula

when it comes to satoru, he's always been alone in his orbit. a level of his own. he's a god among the mortal race; both blessed and cursed to walk the earth. he's his own galaxy - the brightest and the boldest.

yet his galaxy is unbearably lonely. it's expansive, a cosmic canvas of infinite possibilites. it's an inky black celestial wonder, one that leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.

until he meets you, and you become the only being in existence allowed to orbit with him. you're his nebula, chaotic and disorted yet so effortlessly the most beautiful element of his galaxy.

you blaze in brilliant, radiant light; core searing it's permeant place in the midnight backdrop. you illuminate the space with shades of the deepest indigo and violets, mingled with wisps of turquoise and teal. crimson and oranges are vibrant in your centre.

the colour stretches into the void forming intricate patters, ones he finds himself untangling to better understand you.

in the silence of space, your nebula spoke volumes; comforting him at his worst, lulling his mind into dreamless sleep. your edges are softer, the colours more muted as you bleed into him. no one can tell where you begin and he ends.

you are so so small in comparison to the void, but so unbearably bright that you light it all with practiced ease. he tends to watch in awe as you decorate his solar system; nursing new stars to weave into his soul.

with you there, his universe becomes easier to live in, easier to navigate. you're a cloud of interstellar stardust - held together by the gravitational attraction of satoru's galaxy.

☆ - suguru geto ⋮ the artist

to suguru, you're the best thing that's happened to him. ever.

anyone who sees him with you knows. they know he's infatuated, enamoured. he's so far gone that people often think that he's been blinded by love, but he has simply never felt an emotion so intense.

with you he thinks he truly sees the world in all it's glory, innocent and pure. with you he traverses unpolluted by the atrocities of the world, you who colours his world.

he looks at you like you personally hang the stars in the sky when night rolls around, like you paint the sorbet sunsets by hand. he stares at you adoringly, as if you chose the colour of the sea and dusted white on the peaks of mountains to keep them warm.

he peers at you like you solely gift the flowers with their petals, dipping them in shades you deem beautiful enough. like you create the sand from scratch and lay it in pretty semi-lunar shapes next to the ocean.

he gazes at you like diamonds were invented in tribute to your tears, like you drew the prettiest landscapes alone in the quiet, before the age of humanity.

he studies you like you've sculpted the very shape of his heart - every ventricle and atrium handcrafted with your pretty fingers. as if his very existence was molded by you, hence why you fit so perfectly together; two pieces of a puzzle.

he could stare at you for hours and days on end, eyes full of love for the person who introduces him to a plethora of hues and tones that he imprints on the back of his eyelids when he sleeps.

☆ - ryomen sukuna ⋮ the breath of life

sukuna is not a good person. everybody knows that. he's taken innocent lives, sapping their energy like it's nothing. he's all-powerful; he stands amongst the deities - gods who have the capacity to bend fate to their will.

but after millennia of having everything under his rule, he's gotten bored. he has servants to order as he pleases but nothing they do entertains him. the god of death is bored, embarrassingly so.

until he acquires something known as a significant other, the other half of his soul as the humans say. you're his breath of life, a release of old, stagnant energy. it's as if you breathe vitality into everything you touch, all life forms flocking to you naturally.

you're so much softer than he, touch delicate yet profound, an ethereal caress that lights sparks in his eyes. he tends to linger quietly by your side when you walk in the garden he constructed just for you - though he would never tell you that.

wildflowers are coaxed into bloom with you around, their colours a testament to your nurturing touch. the dew-laden grass basks in your presence, gleaming a shade brighter than before. even the trees seem to gravitate toward you, branches reaching for you as you pass by, their leaves sighing in contentment.

sukuna's convinced the waves follow your pace, each push and pull matches your breathing.

you were the essence of renewal. his world had found it's pulse, it's rhythm, as you dance the unending dance of life in the centre. you sustain his beating heart, so sukuna's oddly content with merely watching.

☆ - toji fushiguro ⋮ a lover

toji sees you as not only a lover, but the lover. the only one he will have in this life and the next. there's no after you. it's a forever kinda thing.

something so simple as the title of 'lover' is so complex for toji, a man who's a veteran assassin, a man who previously had no regard for anyone else.

you're the only person toji promises to protect, to never lie to, to make happy for as long as his heart pumps and his chest rises with each breath. you're a miracle gifted to him by the gods - though he doesn't know what he's done to deserve it.

he's rough around the edges but with your standing as 'lover', you smooth him out.

he subconsciously thinks of you, always worrying for your satefy. you must be a deep ocean of the emotion known as 'passion' because he's willingly drowning, not even looking for shore.

toji looks at you like you're an extension of himself, the other half of him that the deities intended for him to find. he can't remember times before you or imagine a future without you.

he makes a deal of reminding you that you are his, just as he is completely and utterly yours. as his lover you hold his bloody, beating heart in your hands; he knows you'll keep it safe.

he stares at you like you'll disappear; like he's not even sure you actually exist. you love a man like him after all - that's a miracle in itself.

[lesmana-enterprise-ltd]

The Griya Lesmana, Luxury Residence (NO CC)

The Griya Lesmana is a luxurious tropical modern mansion, valued at 1,2 million simoleons.

This exquisite residence seamlessly blends sleek contemporary design with intricate Indonesian cultural art. The home features expansive, open spaces that harmoniously connect the lush outdoors with the refined interiors, all while showcasing fine art that beautifully reflects rich heritage.

A masterpiece by The Lesmana Enterprise, this home exemplifies a perfect fusion of elegance and Tradition.

About Griya Lesmana

Welcome to Griya Lesmana, where modern elegance meets serene luxury. This breathtaking estate showcases a perfect blend of natural beauty and contemporary design, with lush greenery framing the sleek architecture. From the stunning pool area in the back facade to the peaceful study space inside, every corner of this home exudes sophistication and tranquility. It’s a haven of peace and a true reflection of timeless style in Del Sol Valley

Make Your Way In

Step inside Griya Lesmana and immerse yourself in a world of contemporary art and warm, earthy tones. Each piece in the home has been carefully selected to evoke a sense of culture and elegance, such as the Garuda Dwi Kencana (1977) by Oktaviano Sudarmadji and Gamelan (1960) by I Wayan Sudana. These art pieces, along with the striking Legong LempuYangan (1960), breathe life into the home, creating a refined and serene atmosphere. The rich wooden textures and soft lighting perfectly complement these works, making Griya Lesmana an extraordinary blend of modern luxury and cultural homage.

At the Peak of Del Sol Valley

Perched with breathtaking views of Del Sol Valley, Griya Lesmana seamlessly blends elegance with its stunning surroundings. The expansive windows showcase the golden landscape, while the Constellation Chandelier (Priced at §25,000) in the sunken conversation pit adds a celestial touch to the home’s refined, luxurious design. Every detail, from curated artwork to rich wooden textures, radiates sophistication in this contemporary masterpiece.

The Ultimate Home Kitchen and Dining

The dining room at Griya Lesmana is a refined space where art meets functionality. The stunning piece Transaksi (1992) by Chusin Setiadikara serves as the centerpiece, setting a tone of cultural richness, while the modern light fixtures bring warmth to every meal. Adjacent to it is the full-metal, industrial-grade kitchen, designed for the ultimate cooking experience. Equipped with top-tier appliances and plenty of counter space, this kitchen is perfect for everything from casual family meals to grand dinner parties.

Four Spacious Bedrooms

The bedrooms in Griya Lesmana are a true retreat, each designed with comfort and luxury in mind. Every room comes with its own walk-in closet, in-suite bathroom, and a private balcony to take in the stunning views of Del Sol Valley. Adorned with hand-picked artworks, like Pedagang Ayam by Hendra Gunawan and Roleplay by Made Toris Mahendra, these spaces blend art, culture, and modern elegance. Whether it's the rich wooden tones or the plush furnishings, each bedroom promises tranquility and style.

Step Into the Backyard

The backyard of Griya Lesmana is an oasis of relaxation and entertainment. Featuring a spacious pool area with a fully functional pool bar, it's the perfect spot for soaking up the sun or enjoying an evening drink. A BBQ patio invites you to indulge in outdoor dining under the warm glow of overhead lights, while the lush greenery surrounding the yard offers a serene retreat. With carefully landscaped gardens and ample lounging space, the backyard is designed to bring the beauty of nature right to your doorstep, all with stunning views of Del Sol Valley in the backdrop.

The Basement

The basement of Griya Lesmana is a hidden luxury haven. It features a spacious parking area that accommodates more than five cars, ensuring plenty of space for any vehicle collection. For fitness enthusiasts, the fully-equipped gym offers a private space to work out, while the sleek, modern sauna provides the perfect spot to relax and unwind. The basement also includes well-designed service quarters, ensuring that every aspect of living in this home is taken care of in style.

Packs Used

If the lot is recognized as modded, it is due to the paintings being registered as CC. There is no CC you need to download to use this build.

Download

Download here via Google Drive

Sul Sul!,

The Lesmana Enterprise Co., Ltd.

[cassimothwin]

Which house will be you be assigned at Brackroot Academy??? Pause or Screenshot the gif at the top to learn your destiny!

Then "Keep reading" to learn more about your house!

Brackroot Academy is part of Tangled Blessings, a magical school horror roleplaying game that uses tarot cards to uncover your fate as a student.

If you like this fun exercise, learn more about the crowdfunding campaign happening now!

Learn more about your house further below! Does it suit you?

House of Celestials 

The skies borrow from the elements to paint a backdrop for life. Featuring iconography of the sun, moon, and constellations, celestials are known for their inner glow. Still, they do not shy away from the dark surrounding them, understanding that all things require balance. Students in this house often carry at least one or more of these marks: discipline, passion, or indifference. This dorm overlooks the lake. 

House of Dahlias 

Dahlias rely on the energy of celestial bodies for growth and endurance. As a vibrant flower, dahlias are a symbol of elegance and devotion. The plant may seem abundant, but it requires careful nurturing in the wet and cold climate of Brackroot. Students in this house often carry at least one or more of these marks: creativity, perfectionism, or obsessiveness. This dorm is connected to the greenhouse. 

House of Panthers 

The panther needs a garden to rest from its daily stroll, and the dahlias always supply. The panther is a symbol of grace, athletics, and agility but still elusive and rare — a fierce creature of the shadows. Students in this house often carry at least one or more of these marks: observation, punctuality, or ruthlessness. This dorm is at the edge of the forest. 

House of Spires 

The spires are only safe in their tower because of the panthers who keep guard. The House of Spires represents the connection blades, pens, and spirituality share. While members of this house may only show interest or aptitude in one of the represented icons, they are a full member of the spire. Students in this house often carry at least one or more of these marks: empathy, isolation, or judgment. This dorm is in the high tower. 

House of Elements  

Elements are the wildest of the quintet, but they maintain control with help from the spires. The elements symbolize excess and power, but together, they represent the strength of unity. Students in this house often carry at least one or more of these marks: cleverness, hunger, or negligence. This dorm is under the school, but furnished with enchanted windows that overlook the neighboring mountains.  

House of None

Accessible by only walking along the edge of a bridge in the right invisible spot, students in the House of None often think of themselves as beyond reality. These thoughts only worsen the more they understand magic on cosmic and atomic scales. Students in this house are often detached, cold, and fiercely intelligent Symbols commonly associated with this house include the number zero, a black hole, a vortex, lanterns, and knots. 

House of Divines

Hidden beneath the campus Chapel and graveyard, this house was annexed centuries ago for blatant misuse of dark magic. Some stories claim this house serves as the birthplace for demons and vampires. Whatever the reason for the House's former eradication, blood stains remain in the foundation. Students in this house are often vengeful, patient, and not above harming others to get what they want. Symbols commonly associated with this house include blood, fruit, teeth, bones, claws, horns.

[dekariosclan]

I think one of the reasons I’ve gone completely wild for Gale’s romance is because it has all the dressings of a Classic Austen Romance (handsome eligible bachelor, charming dialogue, an impediment keeping the two love interests apart, slow burn, sweet confessions of love, etc.) but with the gigantic curveball of it being in an absolutely batshit insane setting.

The eligible bachelor wizard just happens to have a goddess as an ex-girlfriend, the impediment keeping Gale and Tav apart isn’t some basic society class snubbing but a literal nuclear bomb in Gale’s chest and a gigantic brain monster, Gale’s sweet confessions of love are very romantic, poetic, and classy but also occasionally include things like him telling Tav how much he’d love to smash in the middle of a battlefield.

It’s….perfect.

Classic romance is obviously an incredible genre and I love it, but there’s something that hits different and is infinitely sweeter when it’s not two beautiful well-dressed fancy people proclaiming their love flawlessly to one another, but an imperfect self-loathing man standing in a puddle that he for some reason set his camp up on, telling a scarred, scaled, fanged, sweaty, smelly person with bits of Goblin guts in their hair that he loves them with his whole heart and that the celestial canvas is the only worthy backdrop on which to place their beauty.

That is love.

[nina-ya]

Ways That Luffy Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Luffy x reader CW: Mild spoilers for marineford. Mentions of nightmares and trauma. WC: 905

Luffy's laughter echoes across the sunny beach as he sprints towards you, his sandals kicking up puffs of sand behind him. The vibrant flower in his hand seems to glow against the backdrop of the sky. His eyes gleam with affection as he reaches you, a wide grin etched on his face.

Breathless from his run, Luffy extends the flower towards you. "Look what I found!" he exclaims, his excitement contagious. The petals radiate with hues of red, pink, and orange.

Before you can even reach for it, Luffy playfully snatches the flower away from your grasp a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He tucks the vibrant bloom behind your ear. A triumphant smile graces his lips as he steps back to admire his handiwork.

"There!" he declares, his tone brimming with pride. "Now you look even more pretty!" 

The flower is going to go immediately into a drawer that is overflowing with memories that you've collected over your time with Luffy. Each item tells a unique story of the moments when Luffy's eyes landed on something special and he thought of you. The collection is as varied as it is sentimental, ranging from vibrant flowers and polished stones to delicate seashells. It's a drawer filled not just with objects, but with the tangible testaments of Luffy's affection. You know Luffy loves you when he thinks of you in everything he sees.

- - - You wake up to the sound of Luffy stumbling through your shared room, the moon casting a soft glow through the window as the only source of light. Catching Luffy's gaze as the moonlight reflects in his eyes, he grins upon realizing you're awake. He shuffles over to the bed, mounts it with a carefree bounce, and then scooches closer to you with a plate filled with an assortment of treats in his hands.

Popping one of the sweet treats into his mouth, he hums in delight, savoring the flavor. His eyes light up with mischief as he extends the plate toward you, holding out another treat. "I thought of you," he says with a playful laugh. "These are amazing! You've gotta try one." His excitement is contagious as he places the sweet into your mouth.

You sigh in satisfaction as the flavors hit your tongue. "Luffy, these are incredible! Where did you get them?" you ask, genuinely curious.

His grin widens, and he scratches the back of his head. "Oh, you know, Sanji made them. I saw him making them earlier so I just took them. Thought you might like 'em too!" Luffy's honesty and enthusiasm are endearing, and you can't help but laugh at the idea of Sanji in the morning, realizing that these treats had disappeared.

In the quiet moments that follow, Luffy's hazel eyes meet yours with warmth and affection. As you lean in to steal a quick kiss, you can taste the sweets on his lips and you pull back with a soft laugh as you pop another sweet into your mouth. You know Luffy loves you when he shares his food with you. - - -

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Luffy excitedly pulled you towards the head of the Sunny. With a firm grip on your hand, he guided you onto the ship's head, ensuring you wouldn't slip. Nestled on the Sunny's figurehead, you found yourself comfortably seated on Luffy's lap, wrapped in his protective embrace.

With the star-studded sky overhead, the two of you gazed upward, getting lost in the celestial display. Luffy's arms held you close, creating a sense of warmth and security. In this serene moment, the night sky became the topic of your imaginations. With bright smiles on your faces, you took turns pointing out constellations and sharing the stories you saw in the stars.

This routine turned into a nightly ritual, a special moment between you and Luffy. When the fatigue finally caught up with you, you started to drift into sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ship. Luffy continued to hold you protectively, ensuring your comfort and safety.

Even as you slept, Luffy's watchful eyes never wavered. His fingers brushed through your hair with a tender touch, his gaze fixed on you with a deep sense of infatuation. This nightly ritual had become one of the things he looked forward to most at the end of each day. You know Luffy loves you when he protects you in your sleep. - - - You were always the first to be there when Luffy awoke from his trauma-induced nightmares, a comforting presence to pull him from the clutches of haunting dreams. Gently, you held him close, offering solace as he wrestled with the memories that lingered in his sleep. Your touch provided a grounding force as you reassured him, reminding him that the nightmares were just in his head, not the harsh reality he faced.

Wiping away his tears, you whispered words of comfort and your hands moved in a calming rhythm across his back  to help soothe the wounds inflicted by the vivid recollections of his past. In those vulnerable moments, you were the one he sought to anchor him.

Luffy trusted you with the raw, painful details of his nightmares—especially the haunting memories involving Ace. As he shared the depths of his despair, you listened, understanding the weight he carried. You became the safe haven he needed when the thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. You know Luffy loves you when he opens up to you.

[wonders-of-the-cosmos]

What Is This ‘Cosmic Question Mark’ Captured by the James Webb Space Telescope?

The James Webb Space Telescope has captured a spectacular new image of a pair of actively forming stars about 1,470 light-years away. But beneath the breathtaking phenomenon, some viewers noticed a peculiar shape among the backdrop of celestial objects: a glowing question mark. The image quickly went viral on social media, with jokes about its origin ranging from aliens to a glitch in the Matrix.

The object’s color indicates it is either very distant—billions of light-years away—or much closer and obscured by dust. 

The shining question mark represents two galaxies merging. The hooked portion of the shape may be what’s called a tidal tail—a thin, elongated stream of stars and gases that occurs as galaxies interact. 

Credit: NASA

[sundaysconsort]

Since your reqs are open hehe 🤭

I would like to make a request for a blue birdie 💙 and domestic fluff 🤭 (i have nothing specific in mind, so I'll leave it to your beautiful creative imagination!! 💖🤭 Take your time with this req, hehe!)

Also, my first time making a req- 🧍‍♀️

Entry: " Recipe to Reminisce "

Pairing: HSR! Sunday | Reader

Information: After the incident in Penacony, it would take time for everyone to settle back into life on the Express. However, some crew members find adjusting harder than others, particularly their new addition, Sunday. Wanting to make him feel welcome, you research how to make one of his favorite dishes that you overheard him longing for. | 4.6k word count.

Tags: Domestic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Light Teasing, Tenderness, Pinning, Admiration, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, Appreciation, Subtle Flirting, Praise, Unestablished, Misuse of ingredients.

Though you had never mastered the delicate craft of baking, the absence of time spent in the pursuit had never bothered you. Life among the stars kept you perpetually on the move, grappling with the cosmic currents of your adventures on the Astral Express. After your long and exhaustive trek from Penacony, your intrepid crew found a moment's reprieve, a rare stillness in the ceaseless tide of your travels as plans for the next voyage to the enchanting land of Amphoreus began to take shape. This lull in activity stretched over the span of a week, and amidst the maps and charts spread out like a celestial tapestry, you recognized a golden opportunity. It was the perfect chance to warmly welcome the newest addition to your diverse crew, ensuring he felt at home among the swirling constellations and the unfamiliar chaos of life on the express.

You find yourself in the dimly lit confines of the Trailblazer's room, surrounded by the tantalizing scents of fresh ingredients as you prepare a heartfelt welcome gift for Sunday. A deep sense of apprehension fills the air, as you worry about the possibility of him wandering in and catching you off guard during your clandestine preparations. The thought of March discovering your secret and spreading the word sends a chill through you—this moment is meant to be a tranquil escape, a chance not only to prove your baking skills but also to convey to Sunday that he is no longer alone in this journey.

As you glance downstairs, the vibrant camaraderie of your friends echoes in the background, their laughter and chitchat filling the atmosphere with warmth. Himiko is lost in her world, savoring the rich aroma of her coffee, while March and Stelle are caught up in animated conversation over their sugary drinks. Despite their delight, you can’t shake the longing that gnaws at you—a yearning for the comfort of fresh meals, something sorely missed during your travels with the express, where dining means waiting until you reach the next destination.

Determined to turn your cravings into something special, you made the journey back to Penacony three system hours prior, gathering the necessary materials to craft the perfect sweet dessert. The excitement of creating something from scratch fills you with purpose, especially after having asked Pom-Pom to install a kitchen ahead of time. Thankfully, the kitchen arrived just in time for this culinary adventure, providing you with the perfect space to channel your creativity and affection into a dish that will surely bring joy to Sunday’s heart.

Tonight's mission was set in your mind: bake a delicious tray of Pudding Tarts to brighten up Sunday! You pictured the silky custard filling nestled in crisp, golden pastry, and the thought made you smile warmly to yourself, filled with anticipation for the delightful treat you'd create.

As the night wore on, the vibrant sounds of laughter and chatter from your comrades began to ebb away, leaving the bar enveloped in a tranquil hush. The lively atmosphere faded, replaced by the soft hum of the fridge, a soothing backdrop to the stillness that settled in. In the quiet, you found solace, relishing the companionship of Shush, who stood silently by, patiently awaiting the moment to craft a drink.

Seizing this opportunity to take the lead, you crept down the staircase with the stealth of a cat, your heart racing with excitement. Balancing a precarious stack of ingredients, you maneuvered carefully, each step a delicate challenge as you fought to keep everything in your grasp. At last, with a triumphant lift, you placed the colorful array of bottles and mixers onto the bar, a small victory that made you beam with pride.

As you scroll through the contents on your phone, a familiar recipe catches your eye—it’s the one you saved for Tarts. A sudden realization washes over you: you mistakenly prepared for Cream Tarts instead of Pudding Tarts. Surely there can't be much of a difference, right? You murmur this to yourself as you tidy your workspace, surrounded by all the ingredients you’ve assembled.

You take a moment to check your supplies: the refrigerated pie crust dough looks perfectly chilled and ready to work with, check. The instant chocolate pudding mix sits in its packaging, promising a rich indulgence, check. Milk, creamy and cold, is prepped next to the dry ingredients, check. You have the whipping cream, fresh and inviting, check. The powdered sugar, nestled snugly beside it, will add the perfect sweetness, check. Finally, you eye the grated chocolate, a decadent touch for garnish, check.

With everything in place, it's time to dive into the baking process.

You follow step one by preheating the oven to an appropriate temperature. Taking the chilled pie dough you prepared in advance, you began rolling it out on the surface you lightly floured, cutting out twelve 3-inch circles.

"Keep an eye on the dough scraps,” you remind yourself, knowing they will come in handy later for re-rolling to create the final circles. You think aloud, clapping your hands together, and watching as a delicate cloud of flour billows and settles softly over the dough. “Seems simple enough!” you muse, encouraged by the process.

Moving on to the next step, you carefully press each dough circle into a mini tart pan, ensuring they fit snugly against the sides, creating a perfect little vessel for the filling to come. The cool, smooth texture of the dough molds easily beneath your fingers. With a fork in hand, you proceed to poke small holes in the base of each tart shell, a crucial task to allow steam to escape during baking, preventing any error during bake. The rhythmic tapping of the fork against the dough fills the kitchen, a satisfying sound that echoes your anticipation for the delicious tarts to come.

Unbeknownst to you, a solitary figure had remained hidden within the confines of the room. As the soft sounds of your baking filled the air, he lifted his head, sharp golden eyes fixated on your delicate movements. He watched intently, every detail of your actions captured in his gaze, as he remained cloaked in silence to ensure he did not disrupt the rhythm of your culinary endeavor.

As moments passed, it became increasingly apparent to him that you were blissfully unaware of his presence. With each step he took, his feet barely whispered against the floor, a ghost gliding nearer to you from behind.

Suddenly, his voice broke the quiet, smooth yet edged with authority: "Hm. And what do we have over here?" The sound sent a shiver down your spine, for it belonged to none other than the last person you had hoped to encounter at this moment—drawing you from your creative sanctuary into the light of scrutiny.

His first reaction is one of surprise and curiosity, the corners of his brows lifting as he takes in the sight before him. You attempt to mask your baking efforts, going to great lengths to hide the evidence without making your fabrications too glaringly apparent. A flush of embarrassment creeps over you at the thought of being discovered by Sunday, your heart racing as you navigate the tension between your secret and the other person's inquisitive gaze.

You keenly attempt to spin a complex web of deception, artfully dodging the conversation’s focal point. Yet, your evasive tactics only serve to heighten his curiosity, drawing him deeper into a labyrinth of intrigue over your peculiar unease about the possibility of him uncovering your creation. After all, if your carefully crafted work were truly meant for the rest of the express members, he muses, there would surely be no reason for you to obscure it from him. He is not the type to divulge secrets about your playful mischief, especially if you wish to keep this particular matter under wraps.

As he begins to connect the seemingly disparate dots, a flicker of comprehension dances in his eyes; he starts to assemble the fragments of your intentions, gradually deducing the true identity of the intended recipient of your work.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he says, his voice calm and sincere, each word carefully chosen. The seriousness of his expression reveals a deep understanding of the situation at hand, you didn't enjoy it despite his polite mannerisms. “I mean no harm. Would it be better if I step aside?” His gaze is piercing, filled with an awareness that suggests he has already unraveled your intentions, leaving you feeling exposed under the weight of his judgment, or perhaps, it's your mind raising the intensity on its own.

"I would appreciate that, though I—never mind." You shook your head, a sigh escaping your lips as your gaze fell away from his piercing eyes. Instead, you focused on the delicate pastry resting on the counter, its surface glistening under the warm kitchen lights as you awaited the oven’s familiar melody signaling that it was ready. A rush of conflicting thoughts swirled in your mind. Would it be more suspicious to ask him to leave, to disrupt the uneasy tension that thrummed between you? Or if you invited him to stay, would he see through your facade and guess that it was merely an attempt to quell his rising suspicion? It felt like a mental chess game, and with this man, there seemed to be no winning move.

Choosing to remain silent, you relinquish control and let him proceed as he wishes. As you turn your attention back to your work, an unsettling awareness creeps in, sharpening your senses to the weight of his gaze fixed intently on your creation. A flurry of questions swirls in your mind—had you inadvertently erred in some way? Does your work meet his expectations? You had felt confident in the process up until now, the steps seeming straightforward and manageable… but now, doubt tugs at you—what if you overlooked an important detail?

♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~

Placing the tart shells in the oven upon its chime, you'd crouch to the ground and eye your pastries closely through the tinted glass. It is recommended to bake for about five minutes or until they turn golden brown.

At last, your gaze drifts back to Sunday, where you find him deeply immersed in the well-worn pages of the book he carries everywhere. With a hint of curiosity, you step away from the warmth of the oven, your attention drawn to him. Despite the tumultuous events that unfolded in Penacony, a smile spreads across your face. Sunday appears remarkably transformed, his previous burdens all but lifted. No longer confined by the weight of his family legacy, he has shed the label of "Bronze Melodia." Instead, he stands before you as Sunday of the Astral Express, exuding a newfound sense of ease and self-assurance, while still carrying internal troubles which leech off of him. His ideology captured your interest when you first stepped foot in his dream, and you recall your initial instinct being that he couldn't possibly be a villain. Perhaps misguided, yes—most certainly—but not inherently bad.

"Sunday? I hope this doesn’t come across as insensitive, but I’ve been pondering something for quite a while now…" Your voice finally cut through the hush of the bar, like a soft breeze on a still evening, as you summoned the courage to speak.

"Hm?" he responded, the sound a gentle hum, his gaze lifting from the pages of the book he had been lost in. The warm light that filled the room caught the edges of his halo, causing it to shimmer ethereally, casting a golden glow that framed his features in an otherworldly light.

"What exactly is the burden that comes with being Bronze Melodia?" you asked, your curiosity intertwining with a hint of hesitation. It felt like a delicate subject to bring up—like disturbing the surface of a still pond, unsure if it would ripple out with unintended consequences.

"Ah, it is to bear the weight of listening to the myriad problems and vexations of the Dreamscape’s residents, offering them the guidance they seek. That was my solemn duty as Bronze Melodia," he answered, his voice steady and calm, yet a veil of unresolved emotion lingered in the air. It was challenging to decipher the depth of his feelings—he often cloaked himself in silence, guarding whatever turmoil may lie beneath that serene facade.

"What about you?" You could feel empathy radiating from you, a warm pulse of connection amidst the flickering shadows of the bar.

"Me?" Sunday questioned, his voice softening into an uncertain whisper. It was as if your inquiry had plucked at an untouched string within him, revealing a vulnerability he rarely displayed. No one had ever ventured to ask him such a straightforward thing; it was a simple question made complex by the weight of expectation. Who, after all, saves the savior? Who brings comfort to the strong? Destined to fend for themselves, he ponders your implication.

♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~ ♫♪♪~

"You need not carry the weight of others any longer, Sunday," you urged softly, your voice a gentle reminder amidst the bustling kitchen. "Take care of yourself for the time being; you truly deserve it, no matter what doubts you harbor." As you finished speaking, you sensed his intense gaze lingering on you, a mix of contemplation and vulnerability reflected in his eyes. With a heavy heart, you turned away, the aroma of baked goods wafting from the oven guiding your steps, feeling the warmth of his gaze on your back as you walked away, leaving him to ponder your words in the stillness that followed.

As you open the oven door, a rush of warm air escapes, carrying the enticing fragrance of freshly baked pastry that dances around the kitchen. You carefully extract the delicate tart shells, their golden edges glistening under the soft light, and gently place them onto the wire rack you’ve prepared, allowing them to cool and crisp. The sweet and buttery scent envelops you, a tantalizing promise of the delicious creation that awaits.

Suddenly, Sunday’s voice cuts through your reverie, warm and inviting. You glance over at him, noticing the subtle change in his expression—now softer, almost tender. A flutter of warmth fills your heart, stirring emotions you hadn’t anticipated. Yet, despite this newfound gentleness, a hint of hesitation lingers within you. Your gaze flits between him and the bustling preparations surrounding you; uncertainty clings to your tongue.

Before you can gather your thoughts, he speaks again, his tone earnest and encouraging. “It would be an utmost pleasure to help. You’re making tarts, aren’t you? I have experience with this process if you’d allow me.” His offer hangs in the air, filled with an unexpected promise of collaboration, leaving you to ponder the implications of letting him in.

"Sunday, I genuinely appreciate your eagerness to lend a hand, but… I want to handle this myself. Is that alright with you?" You feel a surge of determination as you envision impressing him with your baking skills, knowing that every detail is crafted with him in mind. Moreover, you smile softly, adding, "Didn’t I mention you should look after your own needs? I promise I’m perfectly fine on my own." The warmth of his thoughtful gesture touches you deeply.

With a nod, Sunday recognizes your longing for independence and hesitates momentarily before stepping back, allowing you the space to carry on. Yet, you notice a flicker of conflict in his eyes, as he tussles with your desire to prioritize his own needs while he is left wanting to ensure you’re truly okay.

You let out a relieved smile, the tension in your shoulders easing as you grab a large mixing bowl. With determination, you begin whisking together the rich, velvety chocolate pudding and cold milk, your hands moving in stirring circles. However, the absence of an electric mixer quickly becomes apparent; the task proves to be far more laborious than you anticipated. Within minutes, your arm begins to ache, the constant motion wearying and unyielding. You can only imagine how effortlessly the mixture would have transformed into a thick, luscious consistency had you only plugged in the machine.

Frustration wells up, and you set the bowl down with a soft thud, letting out a groan that echoes in the quiet kitchen. It doesn't go unnoticed—Sunday, with his unwavering attention, shifts his focus toward you. You take a moment to rub your tired face, finding solace in the brief respite. When you open your eyes again, you’re met with a sight that leaves you momentarily speechless. He quietly steps in to continue the task, his movements determined and graceful, a stark contrast to your earlier struggle.

His gaze finds yours, conveying an unspoken message full of insistence, urging you to take a break. Somehow, it makes you realize that both of you deserve a moment of pause—even as you remind him that he should do the same.

Once you feel prepared, you gently lift yourself, ready to tackle the task once more. With a playful nudge, you encourage Sunday to shift aside. Though he hesitates for a moment, a subtle smile dances across his face as he shakes his head in mock reluctance, ultimately giving way. With a sense of accomplishment, you carefully pop the now perfectly whisked chocolate pudding into the cool embrace of the refrigerator, the two of you working in delightful harmony.

After allowing the rich pudding to chill for a tantalizing ten minutes, anticipation bubbles within you as you dash to the fridge. Once back at your workstation, you dive in with enthusiasm, scooping a generous spoonful of the creamy filling into each delicate tart shell. As you work, you catch sight of Sunday thoughtfully tidying up the supplies you’ve set aside, effortlessly managing the clutter without any prompting. You can’t help but appreciate his consideration; perhaps his arrival in your kitchen wasn’t an obstacle but rather a serendipitous opportunity to deepen your connection in this serene moment.

In a separate, spacious bowl, you pour in the glistening whipping cream, its surface shimmering in the light. Gradually, you add a dusting of powdered sugar, the fine granules drifting like soft snowflakes into the bowl. Sunday takes charge of the electric mixer, the rhythmic whirring filling the air as he beats the mixture. You watch with a mix of pride and longing as it transforms into a thick, airy concoction, soft peaks forming elegantly. Yet, a frown tugs at your lips, a small shadow crossing your heart. Sunday catches the shift in your expression and looks momentarily puzzled, though his expression is somewhat hard to distinguish due to its subtlety.

With a pastry bag graced with a star-shaped tip in hand, you take a moment to admire the cloud-like whipped cream before you begin piping it atop the chocolate pudding. Each swirl is an artistic flourish, an invitation to indulge. Finally, with a flourish of your wrist, you sprinkle finely grated chocolate over each tart, letting the shards fall like dark confetti, completing the dessert with a touch of opulence. The tarts shimmer under the kitchen lights, each one a masterpiece waiting to be savored.

“What exactly is it that’s left you feeling dissatisfied?” Sunday’s voice is gentle, almost coaxing, as it weaves its way through the heavy air of disappointment that briefly clouds your expression. You take a moment, inhaling deeply, as though the breath might help you gather your thoughts and ease the sting of regret that’s been lingering ever since the mishap.

“I accidentally made the wrong pastry,” you confess with a hint of sorrow threading through your words. The realization washes over you like a cold wave, and you feel a mix of frustration and regret bubbling just beneath the surface. “Pudding tarts should have that perfect, rich custardy filling—something dense, comforting, and evocative of home,” you explain, your voice trailing off as the weight of your disappointment seeps into the atmosphere around you. Despite the undeniable beauty of the creation before you, it feels tarnished by the expectations you had set in your mind.

The tart glistens under the soft, warm light, the delicate surface boasting intricate patterns and hues that speak volumes of your skill and dedication. Yet, instead of pride, you find yourself marred by the haunting presence of your error. “But instead, I ended up with a lighter, smoother pastry cream…” Your voice falters, “I—I wanted to present you with a pudding, not this…” The words escape your lips softer than intended, almost like a whispered secret, and you feel a pang of anxiety rip through you, praying he hadn’t caught the slip of your tongue—the inadvertent mention of 'pudding' that hangs in the air, uninvited and heavy with unfulfilled intent.

The tension in your chest tightens painfully as you await his response, your heart racing. You wish more than anything you could snatch back the moment, rewind time, and recapture the perfect sentiment you had hoped to convey. Each passing second feels stretched, laden with anticipation, leaving you to grapple not only with the pastry but the delicate thread of expectation that now hangs between you.

“Haha—” Sunday chuckled softly, the familiar sound wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His tone, soothing and free from mockery, eased the tension in your chest. “It seems the use of coercion is unnecessary; you’ve openly admitted that your actions were motivated for me. Though, I wouldn't consider myself somebody worth this effort,” You felt your cheeks flush as you lowered your head, a mixture of embarrassment and defiance flooding through you. With a sigh, you crossed your arms tightly, trying to adopt a façade of nonchalance, though inside, you were anything but calm. ", I appreciate this, and while I may have my perceptions of who I am and how to make amends for my past, I'll make an effort to be open towards your guidance and support."

Even amidst the uncertainty of his potential error, he showered you with praise, his voice rich with warmth and encouragement. As his gaze lingered on you, a gentle glow sparkled in his eyes, illuminating the kindness within. Yet, there was also a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, a mischievous glint that ignited something within you. With a swift and daring sense of rebellion, you lifted your head, your hands dusted with flour from your latest baking adventure. In a moment of light-hearted defiance, you playfully swiped the white powder across his cheek, leaving behind a mark of your shared joy.

Sunday's expression transformed into a mask of confusion, his wings twitching in response and his eyebrows arched high as he sensed the powder settling onto his skin like fine dust. The Halovian slowly raised a gloved hand, fingertips brushing against his cheek, and stared at the pale residue now clinging to them, bewilderment etched across his features, as if he were piecing together a puzzle that made no sense. “That’s for laughing at me.” you declared, attempting to veil your embarrassment.

You quickly shifted your stance, the flour dusting your hands as you brushed them on the kitchen towel that hung over the oven, accompanied by a pair of well-worn mittens. A soft huff escaped your lips as you turned to look at him, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Here,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. “I... I’m sorry for, um, this.” With that, you handed him the towel, offering him a chance to clean himself up from the minor chaos that had erupted in the kitchen.

As he took the towel from you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. A foreign affection blossomed within his proximity. You turned your attention to the nearby counter, reaching for a plate that gleamed under the warm light. Carefully, you arranged a couple of freshly baked tarts atop the plate, their golden crusts glistening invitingly. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment making your heart race. “Welcome to the Astral Express, Sunday,” you finally said, your voice steadier now, filled with a mixture of excitement and a touch of apprehension about sharing this special place with him.

The weary man stood with his wings, once a proud emblem of paradise and hope, now curling protectively toward his lips, as if concealing a smile that flickered with the subtle brightness of a distant star, shimmering deep within the hazel depths of his eyes. Each gesture you made seemed to awaken a long-buried emotion within him, one he had long since surrendered in his ascent to the formidable role of family patriarch.

The crushing weight of responsibility had created an immense chasm between him and the warmth of joy he had once embraced so freely, a chasm that had only widened with the recent separation from his beloved sister. Memories of their laughter and shared dreams haunted him, leaving a palpable void that echoed with the yearning for those lighter, cherished moments of their youth. The gleam of hope he had once held dimmed, overshadowed by the ache of loss and the burdens of duty, yet as he looked at you, an ember of that joy flickered, igniting the faintest hint of a smile.

Sunday chuckled softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “You know, I appreciate this more than you realize. But there is no need to go through all this effort just to make me feel welcome,” he said, the warmth in his voice evident.

“I think you're worth it,” you replied with a smile, your eyes sparkling as you lifted the tart to your lips. The rich, chocolate flavor enveloped your senses, sending a wave of sweetness through you. As you savored the moment, you caught a glimpse of nostalgia flickering in Sunday’s eyes.

He stared into the distance, lost in thought. “This reminds me of my sister and those afternoons in the kitchen,” he began, his voice low and distant. “We’d whip up all sorts of things, but I always went straight for the pudding. I remember getting scolded for sneaking too much—” He chuckled at the memory, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “I just couldn’t help myself. The way it melted in my mouth…”

You leaned closer, intrigued. “What did she say when she caught you?”

“She would get this stern look on her face, arms crossed. ‘Sunday, save some for everyone else!’” He recited her words, and the image was vivid; a younger version of him with a cheeky grin, caught in the act. "It had a considerable impact on my singing voice," he explained, his tone relaxed as he recounted the experience. "Because of this, my instructor urged me to avoid certain habits and practices, emphasizing the importance of preserving my vocal quality so that I could perform at my absolute best." He chuckled softly as he continued, "Our teacher referred to me as a duckling, a nickname that stuck with me throughout my lessons."

You both smile, the moment stretching comfortably as you take another bite of the tart, the chocolate-rich and decadent. The room felt warmer, filled with the echoes of shared memories and the sweet taste of connection. “Here’s to the pudding bandit,” you teased, raising your tart in a mock toast.

Sunday couldn't help but shake his head at the fond absurdity you displayed before playing along. "To the pudding bandit," he echoed, clinking his tart against yours, his eyes twinkling with delight. You both took a bite simultaneously, savoring not only the sweetness of the dessert but also the deeper bond forming between you—one chocolatey bite at a time.

Fin.

A/N | I pray I wrote Sunday accurately... I made it long to make up for my lack of Sunday content. I was afraid I'd write him poorly, and even now, I try my best to stick to what I know and describe more than include dialog. I fear writing them ooc. Sobs.

[eternalstarlitwonderland]

STARRY WISHES

WISH BY WISH ~From the celestial realm above, heartfelt wishes are tenderly bestowed upon the seekers below, shimmering like blessings in the night sky~

STAR BY STAR ~The stars, handpicked with care, shine brightly as they embark on their destined journeys across the vast cosmos~

TWINKLE BY TWINKLE ~With a radiant shimmer, the initial twinkle heralds the enchanting descent of hopes and desires, illuminating the night with hope~

FLICKER BY FLICKER ~As they descend, the brilliant flickers emerge, a testament to dreams taking shape and drifting gracefully toward those who hold them dear; the stars weave their magic, manifesting a luminous journey toward the Earth~

LIGHT BY LIGHT ~The bright light shines forth as a celestial alert, a heavenly beacon guiding wishful hearts and illuminating the darkest corners of desire~

GLOW BY GLOW ~The soft, luminous glow bathes the night in warmth and signifies the arrival of the stars, signaling a gentle descent with their enchanting promise, making their graceful descent into the hearts of those who await~

STARRY WISHES BY STARRY WISHES ~Absorbing the wishes of dreamers with a breathtaking display, transforming into fleeting shooting stars streaking across the expanse of the stratosphere, gracefully descending lovingly to those who await their fulfillment~

Once upon a time, beneath a vast, twinkling sky, a young girl lived with dreams as brilliant as the stars

On that one fateful evening, as she gazed upwards, her eyes glimmering with hope

The stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky, surrounded by the gentle whispers of a cool breeze; she closed her eyes, lifted her face toward the heavens, and whispered a heartfelt wish to the cosmos

In that enchanting moment, the starlight sparkled brighter and shimmered down like delicate ribbons of silver, enveloping her in its silvery glimmer; she felt its warmth, a magical surge of energy as if the universe had conspired to grant her heartfelt desire

Nightfall gracefully draped the principality in its velvety, silvery embrace as the sun slipped below the horizon, casting a delicate silvery hue over everything it touched, illuminating the cobblestone streets and the quaint rooftops while creating a magical ambiance that seemed to whisper secrets of the cosmos

Above, the celestial dome sparkled with myriad stars, each twinkling and shimmering like diamonds scattered across dark silk.

Enthralled by the beauty of the cosmos, the air is alive with anticipation, drawing out the resident stargazers and passionate astrophiles who emerge from their abodes

They gather in hushed reverence, their eyes wide with wonder as constellations twinkled above them like ancient stories waiting to be uncovered

She stood among them, her heart alight with awe for the mysteries that lay beyond

She felt an unshakeable connection to the celestial bodies above, as if her destiny was interwoven with the luminous tapestry of stars, guiding her toward the endless possibilities in the cosmos

At that moment, she understood that her journey was not just about exploration but also about discovering the endless potential that lay hidden among the stars

As she stood on the elegant balustrade, her gaze ascended to the shimmering expanse of coruscant stars adorned the inky, velvety backdrop of night

Their brilliant lights shimmered like scattered diamonds, each flickering joyfully

Like a gentle, silvery embrace, the starlight wrapped around her, illuminating her features with an ethereal glow as she surrendered to its twinkling allure, inviting her to lose herself in its enchanting dance

She contentedly watched, her heart swelling with wonder as she immersed herself in the mesmerizing display of dazzling tapestry above, her eyes tracing the celestial patterns and letting her imagination wander, each tiny point of light telling a tale of cosmic enchantment

She remained entranced, soaking in the dazzling star shine until her gaze was drawn to a strikingly bright flicker that pierced through the inky expanse of the velveteen vast canvas overhead

This radiant light, distinct from the others, sparked her curiosity and drew her in

The intensity of this luminous anomaly intrigued her, stirring a sense of wonder as she pondered, her imagination alight with possibilities, "What message lies within this extraordinary light possibly hold?"

In the stillness of the night, she found herself lost in thought and sat in quiet contemplation, the nightly zephyr wrapped around her like a soft blanket

Her gaze was drawn to a refulgent star that shimmered brilliantly like a diamond against the velvet sky, its glow almost seraphic

It sparkled with a radiance that seemed to beckon her, and as if sensing her presence

When the star, with a reposeful and ethereal voice, inquired if she wished to make a wish

At first, she was momentarily taken aback by the surreal nature of the encounter, which left her speechless

But soon enough, as reality dawned on her and she felt a flutter of disbelief and exhilaration, she recognized that she was standing on the precipice of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to

manifest her desires, an invitation from the cosmos, promising to grant her every heartfelt wish

With her heart racing, she gathered herself and her thoughts and responded, crafting a wish as straightforward as it was profound

The starlight, as if alive, surged brighter, casting a warm glow that embraced her in its celestial glow, poised to intertwine with the cosmos

It listened intently, leaning in to catch every nuance of her request, valuing even the most trivial details, and treating her desires carefully

After all, it was her wish, a precious thread woven into the fabric of the universe, that it held the power to grant

Starlight drifts gracefully through the night sky with a gentle, shimmering glow, moving in a languid dance as if savoring every moment

The silvery ether, adorned with a celestial dome, delicately listens and meticulously evaluates and contemplates the essence of her wish

One by one, the stars within this cosmic expanse began to awaken, their brilliance resonating with a dazzling intensity

They danced in unison, twinkling brilliantly like diamonds scattered upon a velvet canvas, each delicately overlapping and intertwining in a harmonious ballet of light that enchants the eye

The radiant flicker emanates softly, cascading waves of luminescence across the night sky, illuminating the surrounding darkness as the starry empyrean embraces her desire with open arms

It is a moment of affirmation, where dreams intertwine with the fabric of the cosmos, and her wish is on the cusp of coming to fruition

Subsequently, the ethereal starlight granted her heartfelt wish, igniting with a radiant brilliance that transformed the delicate twinkles into an overwhelming surge of illumination

It was a breathtaking confirmation that her dreams were beginning to materialize

Without warning, the world around her plunged into darkness, a fleeting millisecond stretched into an eternity, like a mere heartbeat, as if the universe held its breath for an evanescent

Then, with a dazzling display, it happened

A stunning spark of light emerged; a solitary star plummeted from the celestial vault and began its descent toward the Earth with breathtaking speed, like a shooting blaze

As it fell, it left behind a dazzling, glimmering white streak that sliced through the obsidian sky

She stood there, breathless with disbelief, her heart racing as the celestial entity descended

The star cascaded from its starlit perch, a brilliant blaze that momentarily blinded the night-glistened northern landscape as it soared past, casting an ethereal glow over the world and etching the moment into her memory forever

Now, she lifted her gaze towards the vast expanse of the shimmering empyrean, where countless stars twinkled like distant diamonds, captivating her attention

Her eyes sparkle like the gems scattered across the night sky, and a radiant smile blossoms on her face, illuminating her features and embracing the satisfaction in the shimmering result, where each glint reflects a sense of achievement and joy

She took a moment to absorb the enchanting scene, observed delightedly that the captivating brilliance reemerged, it shimmered with an intensity that outshone even her fondest memories, more enchanting than she had ever witnessed before; they cast a bewitching glimmer that danced in harmony with the universe's timeless beauty

WISH BY WISH ~Each wish is delicately bestowed from the celestial realms above, a gift from the universe~

STAR BY STAR ~Like precious jewels, the stars have been meticulously chosen, their shimmering light destined to shine in its rightful place~

TWINKLE BY TWINKLE ~With a dazzling brilliance, the radiant twinkle signals the commencement of a mesmerizing descent, a celestial ballet that enchants the eye~

FLICKER BY FLICKER ~Each brilliant flicker embodies the hopes and dreams that manifest in a spectacular display, descending gently like the softest dreams to those awaiting their arrival~

LIGHT BY LIGHT ~Every bright beam serves as a whisper from the heavens, an alert pulsing with energy, guiding the way for dreams yet to unfold~

GLOW BY GLOW ~The luminous glow surrounding them acts as a gentle harbinger, a sign that the stars, with their enchanting promise, are making their graceful descent into the hearts of those who await~

STARRY WISHES BY STARRY WISHES ~As the wishes transform into shooting stars, they embark on a breathtaking journey from the stratosphere, cascading downwards to the hearts of those who dared to dream~

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩❞

a/n : hello, everyone. Sorry for the long period of inactivity. I had exams, unfortunately, so I tried finishing this whenever I had some downtime. I only briefly skimmed it for errors, so sorry if this came out bad. As they all say, no beta we die like the amphoreus characters

synopsis — you take a fall while you're asleep. Talk about falling asleep “literally”. Fortunately for you, your significant other is present to help you with the pain.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

❥ pairing: veritas ratio x reader

❥ tags: romance, fluff, mild injury, comfort, domesticity, soothing, established relationship, married, ratio x reader

❥ song inspo: lay down beside you by carl storm

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

In the dead of night, all life submerges into the plane of slumber, following the lead of the descending sun. The moon reclaims the spot of the sun, ushering in a multitude of scintillating dots into the darkening horizon to create a mesmerizing backdrop spanning across the inky canvas. Once the individual specks of glowing globules have taken their position among the empyrean stage, the moon casts its light onto the earth and beckons the crepuscular life forms to emerge from their shelter and attend as silent spectators to the refulgent symphony of celestial bodies.

A stream of light finds their way between the cracks of a curtain, sifting into the space of a bedroom and merging with the tranquility. The quietude is further punctuated by the steady rhythm of breath, unsynchronized yet in tune all the same, from the two figures laying under the bed cover. Ratio faces upright in his slumber, hands placed on top of his torso, in a position that embodies the same rigidity that seemingly always shrouds his form whenever he's awake. You, on the other hand, flaunt little to no grace with your arms sprawled above your head in a poor imitation of the iconic Superman's pose and your legs stretched out. If that isn't enough proof of your restless tendency even when your consciousness is submerged in the depths of slumber, your body rolls over to the side as though dragged by an intangible thread of an unseen puppeteer. Unsurprisingly, once your body tips precariously over the edge, gravity wastes no time doing its job and dutifully hauling you down to collide head first with the cold floor.

A solid thump resounds.

Ratio breaks his posture and regains his cognizance by a feasible amount to groan at the obtrusive noise. His head rotates towards the source of the noise.

It is only when a whimper pierces through the calmness does he eventually jolt awake.

His head peeks over the edge of the bed to assess the noise, and he finds you curled on the ground, placing a hand on your temple where the point of impact is probably felt the most to allay the dull throb. You have your head ducked down, and it doesn't require a significant degree of neuron activation to sense your distress.

"[name]?"

His softened voice is swallowed by the silence with no signs of reciprocation.

He tries again.

This time, the silence offers him a couple rounds of sniffling and a shaky exhale.

Your head finally raises from your makeshift curtain of obscurity, but your eyes are still shielded from view.

"I-I'm okay. Just... Just a minor bump." The tremor in your voice isn't lost on him. And the way you swiftly brush the length of your arm across your eyes discloses the depth of the situation that you seem hesitant to reveal.

Perceiving you in this state churns his stomach to no end. Your voice that usually echoes jubilance and liveliness, now taking on a cracked quality, rattles him more than he can admit. The rejuvenating warmth of a morning sunbeam dampened by the overcast dark clouds, shrouding the world with an unforgiving coldness. That reflects just how you appear to him at the moment. A frown that seems to not fit within the curve of your face; it does not belong there, nor should it ever be.

“Look at me.” His hand seizes your wrist in a gentle grasp. 

Your hand doesn't budge. 

“[name].” 

A whimper meets his staunch tone. 

Finally, he changes his approach, allowing his innate stern demeanor to wash away as he meets your obstinacy with a calming caress right where your pulse thrums under his thumb.

“Look at me… please.”

And at long last, the hand on your face draws away like a window curtain sliding aside to make way for the long awaited ray of warmth. 

“There you are…” His thumb resumes its steady rhythm on your wrist, his intonation subdued out of the rare magnanimity of his heart. 

Your body slouches, and the tension riddling your frame ebbs away like the flow of the ocean tides. “S-Sorry… I didn't mean to wake you up.” You cast your gaze down with a quiet sniffle.

Ratio shelves away his disbelief at your sheepish behavior towards him—your husband, mind you—and redirects his focus on the source of your trouble. Twin flames of amber hue are kept trained on the side of your head that you continue to rub and soothe all while wiping away the slowing flow of waterfall down your cheeks. Without any prodding comments, he helps you climb up the bed. 

“Don't apologize. Instead, tell me. Is it painful? Why are you crying profusely?” 

His tone exudes the usual crackle of his strident mannerism, an educator demanding answers to a quandary in a bid to dispel confusion, yet his touch conveys a different emotion. His palm hovers over the area of your head that your hand cradles, and he presses down to carefully pry it off before resting over it. He looks to the side and focuses on feeling any abnormal bumps or possible bleeding, and fortunately, comes up with nothing.

“You seem to be uninjured.” He assesses, making sure to continue providing you with gentle solace by rubbing it in the same circular motions as before. “Do you feel extreme pain? Please, don't withhold any information. This might be indicative of something severe internally–”

“No, no, no…” You grasp his wrist frantically, running your hand down his forearm with a gentleness that mirrors his, hoping his mind won't jump to the worst case scenario. “No, beloved… I'm just… I was just startled by the fall. And when I woke up, I felt pain, and… and I guess the combination of that and the shock got me to cry. It's not that painful, I promise.”

Ratio doesn't sound convinced, and honestly, you couldn't blame him. Imagine being woken up to the sound of your spouse crying on the floor. That alone is enough to paint a picture of an accident taking place while he was unconscious, and it doesn't help that he was roused abruptly from a deep sleep with nothing but grogginess and the empty space beside him where you should've been present. 

“I'm okay now, Veritas.” You reposition his palm to rest against your cheek, the pain having simmered to a dull throb. “Really.”

A flicker of tenderness crosses his countenance. That stoic veneer that most people have learned to associate him with chips away bit by bit, until he bares himself to you completely, all softened eyes and  upturned lips.

“You worried me,” he mutters as he untangles his hand from your grip, inducing a momentary burst of disappointment in you, before placing it right back on your temple where you fell. The way he glides all over the nearby area, eyes narrowed in undivided concentration as if to thoroughly check your head for any faint swelling. He refuses to accept your words as is without an examination of his own to verify your reassurance. He'll be damned if something terrible does happen to you in the aftermath of this paltry accident all because something slipped past his radar and managed to fester into something worth concerning over. 

Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you did something of this nature. You do have a track record of undermining the severity of an issue that pertains to your own well-being. 

“Veritas… I really am okay,” you whine, but there is no annoyance accompanying it. Any traces of tears left on your face are gone, and so is the tremulous frown.

He keeps his hand on your temple, not letting up in his rigorous search for bumps or unneeded substance oozing out. 

This time, a giggle emerges from the depth of your throat. “Hey…” You tilt your head to the side ever so slightly. “I'm okay, Veritas. I'm okay! You don't have to keep touching my head.”

There is a perceptible tinge of relief that floods his face, and he eventually concedes by ceasing his inspection. 

“Forgive me. I don't want to be remiss in detecting any possible issue.” He raises his other hand to comb through your tousled hair, following a pattern akin to a drifting stream. The weight in his heart dissipates when he beholds your blissful face and the way your locks cascade onto the bed, the place you belong to in this moment of peace.

“I'm okay,” you whisper, voice brimming with gratitude and a whole lot of affection. So much so, Ratio feels like his skin has been hit with a warm breeze that precedes the arrival of spring. “Thank you, Veritas. Sleep now. You have class to teach tomorrow.”

He simply responds by moving his hand from your temple to slither around your neck, pulling you closer and closer, whilst the other hand hangs over the slope of your hip. He only stops once your body is enveloped whole by his arms in a cocoon of comfort, a safety net to prevent a repetition of what happened. 

You're swaddled with a sense of warmth that's familiar and alleviating altogether. You aren't a stranger to these moments of vulnerability and furtive intimacy; when his gaze is bereft of his customary, smoldering judgment and his touches are the furthest thing from sparse or fleeting. But each and every time he bestows this gentle treatment upon you, you are always reminded of the privilege you now hold after that one fateful day of exchanged vows—the delegation of his profound devotion to you along with granting you the title of his sole eternal muse.

You deplore having your movements restricted during your sleep, let alone being caged in a manner that not even your limbs can flail around. Yet, Ratio puts that notion to rest with just a single embrace. You can't determine whether this dilemma arose due to your incapability to adhere to a principle or if that sharp-tongued genius has stellar persuasion skills on top of his already remarkable set of intelligence and talents. 

Regardless of which explanation adequately rationalizes your shift in preferred sleeping habits, you know with full certainty that you don't want to be anywhere else right now. 

“Thank you…” You duck your head and plant your forehead against his lips as lightly as possible, failing to pick up on the upward movement of his lips and the way his eyelids crack open just a tad bit. 

As your arms find purchase around his torso, the tranquil, crepuscular hour concludes its intermezzo, allowing the symphony of nature to lull you back into a restful sleep. 

And when your breath evens out, Ratio opens his eyes.

He exercises immense care when he adjusts his position, regarding your sleep as a matter of paramount importance. His head tips over to catch a good look at your face. The minuscule smile that greets him among the stillness of your content visage is enough to erase any vestigial uneasiness. 

His lips collide with your forehead with nimble force before he finally joins you in his descent into the realm of dreams; his conscience sailing along a peaceful ocean of reassurance, knowing that the stormy clouds have dispersed and the wilted petals of his flower have blossomed anew.