#spread the cosmos wonder and love

[holographic-mars]

What if I told you that you’re the one that really got me into Cosmos. I scream whenever he’s on screen now lol

AAAH OH MY GOSH THAT MAKES ME GIGGLE N KICK MY FEET SO MUCH. I LOVE THAT AAAAHDJF

I have been told on twt about people who have grown fond of Cosmos bc of how much I love him n it always makes me giggle n jump up and down. YAAY YAAYY MORE COSMOS ALL COSMOS

May cosmos bring you so much joy and whimsy

[oofthwoods]

STEPS TO YOU! ── ˙ ̟ lando norris !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: lando norris hates the idea of soulmates. for him, it's hard to see everyone in his life with a matching tattoo, or a timer, or the inability to see colors, while he has to be content with the fact that he may never find his perfect match. that is, until he starts to see mysterious footprints around the paddock, hinting at a path he never expected.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: this is my confession that my favorite soulmate!aus are the ones where they don't think they have one. the sadness of thinking you are not destined for a great love only to find out that there's someone out there for you??? mwah chefs kiss

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: to be added.

LANDO NORRIS WAS A ROMANTIC AT HEART.

He had a secret love for romantic comedies. Watching couples overcome comical obstacles before finding their happy ending always brought a smile to his face. Though he would never admit it, he found joy in the cliched plots and endearing moments portrayed on screen.

The Brit also enjoyed weddings. Family, friends, or mere acquaintances— it didn't matter. To him, the ceremony was a tangible display of true love that existed beyond the silver screen and scripted Hollywood romances.

Despite everything, Lando knew that he would never experience anything like it. Everyone around him seemed to have a sure sign that they were meant for great love: Carlos with his past life visions shared with his beloved, George with his key pendant symbolizing his destiny, and even Oscar, who occasionally vanished, leaving a girl in his place. But not Lando. No visions, no tattoos, no words etched on his arm foretelling what his soulmate would say upon their first encounter. He felt like an outsider in a world where everyone seemed to have found their perfect match, while he knew he would be alone forever.

As Lando's realization sunk in, it was an emotional rollercoaster. He wasn't just a late bloomer; he wasn't meant to blossom at all. In his childhood innocence, he embraced his supposed independence and declared that girls were gross and he could live without someone by his side forever. But as adolescence took over, he found himself increasingly on the sidelines, watching as close friends shared stories of connection and love, filling him with a painful mix of envy and despair.

Every tale of someone else's romance felt like a dagger to the heart, a wound that refused to heal. Lando couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve this solitary fate in a world where everyone else seemed to find their soulmates.

Occasionally, he gazed up at the dark expanse above, yearning for solutions. Had the universe overlooked him or was love just not in his destiny? Some claimed that soulmates were like atoms connected since before the Big Bang, their bond enduring despite eons passing. But what did this mean for Lando? Was he destined for a solitary life even before the cosmos took shape?

As an adult, Lando struggled to convince himself that he had come to terms with his fate. He told himself over and over again that finding true love was possible without a soulmate being involved. It didn't have to be some cosmic arrangement. Yet, deep down, even as he tried to comfort himself with this reasoning, he couldn't shake the desire for something more. He yearned to be uniquely crafted for someone, to be cherished wholeheartedly despite his imperfections and weaknesses.

Lando shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into the present moment. The unforgiving Melbourne sun beat down on him, its golden rays spreading across the circuit. Heat radiated all around him, almost suffocating in its intensity. He cursed his decision to wear an orange hoodie that morning as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Walking from the entrance to his garage, he couldn't escape the discomfort caused by the heat. The thick fabric clung to his skin, trapping him in its grasp as the temperature continued to rise.

Beside him, Oscar emanated an infectious energy. The pilot was fully immersed in the atmosphere of his home country's race, evident through his beaming smile. Despite the hustle and bustle around them, they maintained a calm demeanor, as if they were in a world of their own, oblivious to the cameras of the photographers trying to capture every moment.

Lando observed Oscar's anxious glances, as if he was searching for a particular person.

Deciding to break the silence, Lando asked, "Has your family arrived?"

Oscar's mind seemed elsewhere as he replied, "Oh, yeah. They're here. I'm just looking for someone else."

Someone else. Lando's brow furrowed as he thought about the mysterious bond between Oscar and his soulmate. Every now and then, without warning or explanation, the Australian would switch places with the girl he was connected to. Initially, Lando feared that this could happen during a race and result in a disastrous outcome. However, he soon realized that the universe was smart enough to only make these switches when both were safe.

"You met her?" Lando finally asked, curious about Oscar's soulmate. He looked at him with confusion before smiling sadly.

"Not yet, and she's not the one i'm looking or," Oscar replied, bringing a small sense of relief to Lando. He immediately felt guilty for wishing that others wouldn't find their soulmates, knowing it was selfish and petty.

Additionally, Lando could recall a peculiar incident from the previous year, when Oscar suddenly disappeared, and a girl had surprisingly turned up in the McLaren garage, clad in pajamas and exuding an unusual calmness about the situation. He remembered her as a charming and witty girl, and the thought that Oscar had someone special to share his life with brought a comforting warmth to Lando's heart, though it was tinged with a hint of jealousy.

"I have a friend coming over today," Oscar interjected, breaking through Lando's thoughts. "We went to elementary school together, but it's been a while since we've seen each other. She finished college last year, and managed to take a few days off to visit."

Lando nodded along as Oscar talked about his friend, dividing his attention between their conversation and the busy paddock. He couldn't help but notice weird stains on the ground and wished people would be more considerate of the space.

The two McLaren pilots still had a few minutes before the first meeting and the final free practice before qualifying. They decided to take refuge from the scorching sun inside their respective driver's rooms, seeking a moment of tranquility before the hustle and bustle of the track.

Lando made his way down the narrow path to the driver's room, noticing strange marks on the floor. The team garage was typically spotless, and he couldn't comprehend how it had become so messy.

"Who the hell made this mess?" Lando furrowed his brow and glanced around the room.

Oscar, perplexed, asked, "What mess?"

With a chuckle, Lando replied, "Are you blind? Look at the damn floor, it's covered in stains." He pointed to the ground with his arm.

Oscar tried to play along, forcing a laugh. "Mate, did you hit your head on the way here? The floor is spotless, as always."

Lando's eyes narrowed as he examined the stains on the ground more closely. What he imagined was dirt from a worker's shoe, appeared to not be random splatters; they seemed deliberate, almost forming a pattern. And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, Lando's heart skipped a beat as he realized the stains looked like footsteps.

"This is strange," he muttered, crouching down to get a better look.

Hearing Lando's concern, Oscar joined him and peered at the marks. "What are you thinking?"

Lando's mind was filled with various thoughts. He wondered if the intense heat was causing him to hallucinate. A thought crossed his mind that someone had wandered into the garage barefoot, possibly in search of new shoes. Everything seemed mildly possible.

Despite his efforts to suppress it, a nagging part inside him reminded him of the nights he spent wondering about potential invisible soulmate connections. He couldn't help but recall the excitement of discovering invisible threads - like leaving colorful marks upon touch or having their thoughts connect when within a certain distance, almost like telepathy. Things that wouldn't appear on his body when he turned eight, but still meant he had someone.

The 15-year-old version of himself seemed to be pounding on his chest, making him remember the thread through footsteps that he had long forgotten about, and started to question if even existed. Yet, Oscar didn't seem to notice the distinct marks on the floor and Lando couldn't possibly be hallucinating from dehydration.

Oscar placed his hand on Lando's back and felt a shiver run through his friend's body. "Lando, you're starting to worry me. Do you want to go to the medical bay?"

Lando quickly got up from the floor, shaking off Oscar's touch. "No need, Os. I'm fine." He forced a smile, but there was a lump in his throat as he tried to swallow down the fear and uncertainty. He didn't want to get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once more.

"What do you think of the place?" Oscar's voice startles you from behind,.

A smile lights up your face as you turn around to see your friend in person for the first time in a long while. You eagerly embrace him with open arms, attempting to lift him off the ground like you used to when you were kids.

"Wow, okay, you're not as light as you used to be."

Oscar chuckles, and playfully returns the favor by lifting you up. "Nope, I'm not. Or maybe you're just not as strong anymore."

You tease, giving his shoulder a light slap. He winces and holds onto it, pretending it hurts.

"It's impressive." You answer his previous question. "So many people, so much noise, but I can see why you love it here." You take in the bustling atmosphere with a laugh.

The Aussie leans back against something and asks with a playful glint in his eye, "So, what's been going on in your world?"

You chuckle, immediately feeling at ease with him. "Just the usual post-grad life. Trying to figure it all out."

"Will you stick with auto sports?" He asks hopefully.

"I have an interview lined up to shadow a F2 journalist, so let's hope for the best." You make a gesture of crossed fingers. You thought that graduating with a degree in Journalism would give you direction in life, but almost a year later, you're still searching for your calling.

"It's already yours. I've never met anyone who could get honest answers from drivers like you do." He tried to calm you.

"I interviewed you once for a college project, Os. I don't think that counts." You chuckle.

"Come on, I was in f2 back then. That's definitely something to put on your resume."

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod.

It didn't feel like it had been so long since you two last saw each other in person.

As your gaze sweeps over the cluttered garage once more, something strange catches your eye, and you furrow your brow in confusion.

"Isn't Easter still a ways off?" Your eyes follow a trail of small, misshapen footprints leading around the room and you can't help but comment, "And whoever left those prints definitely didn't excel in their Arts & Crafts classes. They look nothing like bunny paws."

Oscar couldn't believe it. What was going on with his friends and footprints that day?

He squints and shakes his head. "I don't see anything," he says, trying to follow your gaze.

"Of course you don't. I've been telling you to get your eyes checked for years," you tease with a laugh. You walk over to him and point directly at the pawprint (that looks more like a footprint) on the ground that you can clearly see, even though it's slightly faded. Oscar looks at you with confusion.

"Are you and Lando in on this together?" He starts to suspect a prank.

"Lando? Your teammate?" You shake your head. "I've never even met him, Os." A mischievous grin spreads across your face. "But maybe I should."

Oscar's gaze shifted from the empty space in front of him. "Don't even go there, missy. Teammates are strictly off-limits."

You couldn't help but tease, "Why, does he have a soulmate?"

Oscar used to give you pitying looks whenever you mentioned not having a love thread, but it had been a while since then. He missed all of you - including your bad puns.

"I don't know. We've never discussed it," Oscar shuddered. He and Lando had grown closer over the past year, but the Brit never seemed to want to talk about that topic, so Oscar left it alone.

You continue to tease, "I still don't see why he's off-limits."

"Can you imagine how traumatizing it would be to see Lando making out with my best friend?"

"It wouldn't be any weirder than collecting bugs with my best friend and then suddenly having a random girl in front of me," your counterpart argues.

"Touché" It wouldn't be right for Oscar to dictate who you should pursue, especially since you had no control over randomly talking to his soulmate after swapping places. "It still would be fucking weird."

"You know, if two people saw those pawprints and you didn't, I think it's safe to say who's the one in the wrong here," You nudged him playfully. "Maybe you're just not looking close enough. Let me guide you."

Stepping closer to the mysterious prints, you crouched down and examined them closely. "They seem... fresh, don't they?"

Oscar joined you, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out any shape or form on the ground. "I swear, there's nothing there. Are you sure this isn't some elaborate prank?"

You shook your head, running your fingers over the indentations. "No, these are real."

Despite trying his best, Oscar couldn't make out what he was supposed to be looking at. "Alright, you got me. Congrats on your and Lando's little joke."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your frustration grows as you wonder how he could have missed the obvious footprints right in front of him.

"He saw these so-called "footprints" too." He gestured with air quotes, convinced that his best friend and teammate were up to some strange prank together.

Before you could protest, someone called out your friend's name. "I have to go, it's my engineer," he said, getting up from the floor. He gave you a friendly smile that quickly turned into a knowing smirk. "And don't follow the footprints, Alice. They won't lead you to wonderland."

Wonderland or not, you would be stupid not to follow it.

As you follow the trail of footprints through the crowded garage, your curiosity builds with each step. You maneuver carefully around toolboxes and piles of spare parts, focusing on the prints as they lead you deeper into the maze-like space.

At last, you reach the end of the trail and come face to face with a closed door. Your heart races with excitement and anticipation as you stare at the sign above it: "Lando Norris' Driver's Room"

You furrow your brow in confusion. How could Norris' driver's room be connected to the strange footprints you've been tracking? Is this some kind of elaborate prank that Oscar roped Lando into as well?

Despite the nagging feeling that something was off, you stood your ground and refused to give into whatever it was that was trying to lure you in. You mentally prepared yourself to turn around and head back to Oscar's garage, where at least you felt familiar, and he couldn't pull pranks on you in front of his entire team.

And then, as if on cue, the door swings open, revealing Lando Norris standing on the other side. His presence fills the doorway, commanding attention with an effortless grace that leaves you breathless.

In that moment, you can't help but drink in the sight of him—the way the soft glow of the room illuminates his features, casting his angular jawline and chiseled cheekbones in sharp relief. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of azure, hold a glint of mischief as they meet yours, and you find yourself drowning in their depths.

Lando is clad in his fireproofs, the sleek material hugging his lean frame in all the right places. His racesuit hangs by his waist, a vibrant burst of color against the backdrop of the room. There's a confidence in the way he carries himself, a hint of swagger that speaks of countless hours spent behind the wheel of a racing car.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates you—it's the strange electricity that seems to crackle in the air when your eyes meet.

Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself in a predicament, searching for a clever excuse. You definitely didn't want to appear as a stalker-fan who snuck in. "Um, I was just... uh..."

"Oscar?" Lando interrupts, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, Oscar!" You latch onto the name like a lifeline. "I'm a friend of his."

"He mentioned you," Lando nods, a friendly grin spreading across his face.

"Ah, so Oscar's been gossiping about me, huh?" You tease, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lock gazes with Lando. "I hope he said only nice things."

Lando chuckles softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Oh, absolutely. But he forgot to mention how gorgeous you are"

You feel a warm flush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, and you playfully bat your eyelashes. "Oh, did he now? Well, I'll have to thank him for the rave reviews later."

An easy silence falls between you, charged with unspoken chemistry and the promise of potential. Lando breaks the quiet with a mischievous smirk, closing the gap between you.

"Care for a little tour while we wait for Oscar? I promise not to lead you astray... too much," he adds with a wink.

Despite the lingering adrenaline from the close call and the unexpected encounter with Lando, you find yourself nodding eagerly. Oscar had been too occupied to give you a proper tour, and you were itching to explore the place.

"Lead the way, but I'm holding you to that promise of not getting lost," you tease, motioning for him to lead. As he begins to walk, you fall into step beside him, the playful brush of your shoulders sending sparks flying.

"Do you have a habit of getting lost?" Lando asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock dismay. "Define 'a habit'," you retort, a playful sparkle in your eyes. "When we were younger, Oscar and I used to roam around this massive mall near our homes. I lost count of how many times he had to page me over the speakers because I got sidetracked and wandered off."

"I'll have to keep a close eye on you, then," Lando quips. "Can't have Oscar's friend getting lost on my watch."

You chuckle at his teasing, reveling in the easy banter between you two. As he continues to show you around the McLaren paddock, pointing out various spots and sharing amusing anecdotes, you find yourself drawn to his effortless charm and infectious energy.

"You know, I never expected today to turn out like this," you admit, stealing a sideways glance at Lando. "But I'm glad it did. Especially if it means getting a personal tour from McLaren's charming star driver."

Lando beams at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Consider yourself lucky, then. Not everyone gets the VIP treatment around here." He pauses for a moment before adding with a playful grin, "Although, I must confess, it's rather challenging to focus on giving a proper tour with you flashing that smile."

Your heart flutters at his words, but you play it cool with a playful roll of your eyes. "You need to work on your flirting skills, dude."

"But do they work?" Lando counters with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe. Keep trying, and who knows where it might lead."

"Ah, so you're admitting my charm has potential?" Lando shoots back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," you reply with a smirk..

"Ouch, that hurts," Lando feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Here I am, giving you the grand tour, and you won't even give me credit for my rizz."

"Okay, okay, maybe just a little credit," you concede with a laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But don't let it get to your head."

Lando grins. "Don't worry, I'll try to contain my ego."

As the tour comes to an end, you and Lando bid your goodbyes, thanking each other for the enjoyable time spent together. It's time for qualifying, and Lando is escorted towards his car by a member of his team. Just before he gets in, he looks back towards you with a faint smile. In that moment, his gaze locks with yours, and he freezes as a realization dawns upon him. The footsteps he had noticed earlier, weaving through the McLaren paddock, had a familiar pattern. They were from you.

He looks back to the path he took with you, and the marks on the floor as clear as day. They appear in front of his driver's room, in the small cafeteria where he took you to get the best coffee from the paddock (his words), and they follow you as you make your way to Oscar's side of the garage.

Lando's lips part slightly, as if he couldn't get enough air.

Before Lando could take a step towards you, his engineer's firm grip on his arm pulls him back. "Where are you going? Quali is about to start," his engineer reminds him, snapping him out of the mesmerizing realization.

Lando looks torn, torn between the exhilaration of discovering a potential connection he never noticed before and the responsibility of his racing career. He gives you one last longing look before reluctantly turning away, his mind buzzing with newfound thoughts and possibilities.

As he slides into the driver's seat and revs up the engine, he can't shake off the image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and now, the footprints you left behind that seemed to lead straight to him. The engine roars to life, drowning out his racing thoughts as he steels himself for the high-stakes qualifying round ahead.

There were various theories floating around regarding why Lando secured the pole position. Some attributed it to an engine change, while others praised McLaren's performance on the specific circuit. But deep down, Lando knew that his main motivation was to finish everything quickly so he could talk to you.

He heard his engineer's voice in his ear through the radio, but he wasn't really paying attention. He knew he had interviews to do, photos to take, and a tire to sign, but as he stepped out of the car, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the girl he never knew existed.

After the whirlwind of interviews subsides and Lando returns to the bustling garage, his mind remains fixated on one thought: finding you. He navigates through the maze of mechanics and engineers, his determination unwavering.

Spotting Oscar amidst the commotion, Lando strides over, his expression a mix of eagerness and urgency. "Hey, Oscar," he calls out, drawing his friend's attention.

Oscar looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, a puzzled expression crossing his face at the intensity in Lando's gaze. "Hey, Lando. What's up?" he asks, curious yet cautious.

"I need to talk to your friend," Lando replies, his tone serious.

Oscar's confusion deepens, and a hint of protectiveness flickers in his eyes. "My friend? Why do you need to speak to her?" he inquires, his tone guarded.

Lando hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "I... I just need to ask her something," he says evasively, unwilling to divulge the true reason behind his urgency.

Oscar studies Lando intently, sensing there's more to the story than meets the eye. "Is everything okay?" he probes, his concern evident.

Lando shifts uncomfortably under Oscar's scrutiny, torn between his desire to find you and his reluctance to reveal too much. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assures, attempting to brush off Oscar's concern.

But Oscar isn't convinced, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Look, if you're going to involve my friend in something, I need to know what's going on," he insists firmly.

Lando sighs, realizing he can't keep dodging the question. "It's just... I met her earlier, and I... I need to talk to her," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Oscar's expression softens as he recognizes the sincerity in Lando's words. He may be protective, but he also trusts his instincts when it comes to his friends. "Okay," he relents, nodding in understanding. "She's in my driver's room."

Before Lando can make his way there, Oscar grabs his arm, a serious expression etched on his face. "Look, I know we don't talk about this, but…" He hesitates momentarily. "I don't know if you have a soulmate, but she doesn't. And I don't want you giving her false hope, only to disappear the moment someone mentions what's on your arm, or whatever."

Lando offers a reassuring smile. "You're wrong."

"Listen, I don't care if your mark is on your arm or your ass, my point was-"

"It's not about that. It's about her not having a soulmate," Lando interjects.

Oscar's expression turns grave. "What do you mean?"

"Footsteps," Lando responds simply.

Oscar's frustration bubbles to the surface. "What's going on with both of you? First, you mention footsteps, then her." He glances at his teammate, who meets his gaze with a serene smile. In Lando's eyes, there's a glimmer of hope and relief that Oscar can't quite comprehend. Initially, he considers escorting both of his friends to the medical bay, puzzled by their strange behavior regarding footsteps that only they seem to perceive—

Footsteps that only they can see.

A sudden realization dawns upon Oscar, his eyes widening. "You two are soulmates."

"Hopefully," Lando murmurs. "I—I never thought I had one. No marks, no dreams, nothing. But this morning, I saw footsteps. And then we met, and I showed her around. We were side by side, so I didn't pay much attention. But before Qualifying, I noticed her walking toward your side of the garage, and there were footsteps leading there."

As the realization settles between them, Oscar reluctantly releases Lando's arm, allowing him to continue on his way. However, just as Lando begins to move away, Oscar calls out to him, his tone a mix of seriousness and jest.

"Lando, wait," Oscar says, his voice tinged with playful threat. "Soulmate or not, if you ever hurt my best friend, I'll make sure to crash into you in every single race."

Lando stops in his tracks, turning back to face Oscar with a wry smile. "Fair warning," he replies, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I can assure you, if I ever did hurt her, I'd deserve every crash."

The Brit's heart races as he stands before the door, realizing he doesn't need to ask Oscar about the girl when the footsteps guide him straight to her. He wonders if he'd ever noticed those phantom imprints before, dismissing them as mere smudges or dirt. And in a fleeting moment of clarity, he wonders if those same invisible marks had led you to his door earlier, tracing a path he hadn't noticed until now.

As Lando hesitates outside the door, uncertainty gripping his thoughts, he contemplates his next move. Should he pace back and forth until you notice the traces on the floor? Or perhaps he should boldly declare their connection as soulmates upon entering? Before he can settle on a plan, the door swings open.

"Wow!" You exclaim, your initial fright giving way to laughter. "Okay, I probably deserved that. Second time's the charm, right?"

"Uhm," Lando's throat constricts, his words stumbling over each other. In his mind, this conversation had seemed much simpler. "Look, I—I need to ask you something. Do you… have a soulmate?"

Your gaze hardens, but it's not anger that flickers in your eyes, only a hint of sorrow. "We just met today," you confess, your tone tinged with vulnerability. Lando realizes it might be an invasive question; after all, some people prefer to keep such matters private. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean—" Lando fumbles, his nerves getting the best of him.

"It's alright, I understand," you say, crossing your arms with a sad smile. "You do?"

"I do," Lando confirms, gesturing subtly to the scattered footsteps that crisscross the room.

"Cool," you respond, your expression disoriented.

"No, wait, that's not what I meant." Lando's frustration mounts as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be stupid in love?

"It's okay, Lando, really," you reassure him gently. "I know some people like to have... fun before finding their soulmate. I won't judge you for that." Yet beneath your understanding tone, a pang of sadness lingers, the thought of forever being a mere diversion rather than a final destination.

"Listen," Lando interjects, laying his hands gently atop yours, a jolt of electricity coursing between them once more. "Earlier today, you saw those footsteps, didn't you?"

"Actually, yes," you reply, confusion clouding your features. Oscar had vehemently denied their existence, leaving you to question your own perception.

"Me too. I saw footsteps this morning. Then I noticed footsteps leading towards Oscar's garage," Lando reveals, his voice soft with emotion. He silently pleads for you not to notice the trembling in his hands. "And now, I see footsteps again. Emerging from the door and heading toward the couch. A circle of them, right in front of the television."

As Lando confides in you, his vulnerability palpable, you begin to piece it together. Your eyes widen in realization as you look around. Although you can't see the invisible footsteps he's describing, you can distinctly perceive a path, stretching from the door to where Lando stands before you.

"Every step leads me to you," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

A tender smile graces your lips as you absorb Lando's words, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. "I never thought I had a soulmate," you confess softly, your voice tinged with wonder.

Lando's own smile mirrors yours, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at that, one thing that we already have in common," he replies, his tone gentle yet playful.

You share a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with unspoken emotions swirling between you. It's a realization that defies logic yet feels undeniably right, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you together. Well, it did, didn't it? Maybe you should apologize for all the times your cursed at it.

"And here we are," you say, a hint of awe coloring your words.

"Here we are," Lando echoes, his gaze never leaving yours.

A mischievous glint twinkles in your eyes as you playfully tease, "You know, when I suggested you keep trying to flirt with me, this wasn't exactly the outcome I had in mind."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. "Well, lucky for me, there's no one I'd rather up my game with than you."

You laugh, feeling the tension ease between you as the playful banter continues. "Smooth talker," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

"Just stating the truth," Lando replies, his tone lighthearted yet sincere. "Besides, you will have to deal with it for the rest of your life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the playful façade giving way to a deeper connection between you. "I suppose you have a point," you concede with a smile, feeling yourself drawn even closer to him.

Lando's eyes light up with mischief as an idea sparks in his mind. "You know," he begins, a playful grin tugging at his lips, "I've spent my entire life thinking you didn't exist. I have a lot of making up to do."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his bold statement, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, intrigued by his playful demeanor. "Oh really?" you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "And just how do you plan on making it up to me?"

Lando's grin widens as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I was thinking we could start here. I can't really go out, but my hotel has an amazing restaraunt" he suggests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "After that... Have you ever been to Monaco? Or Italy? Maybe after that, we could..."

You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, charmed by his playful spirit. "I say you're full of surprises, Lando Norris," you tease, interrupting him, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes. "But I like the way you think."

A bashful smile graces Lando's lips as he chuckles softly. "Great," he replies, his tone now tinged with a hint of shyness. "I've got a meeting to attend, but after that, how about we meet back here?"

"You'll know exactly where to find me."

As warmth floods through Lando's heart, a tender smile graces his lips. In that fleeting moment of realization, it dawns on him—he'll never doubt your existence again. Not when there's a trail of footsteps leading him straight back to you, a path he'll eagerly follow time and time again.

Lando Norris is a romantic at heart. The universe, in all its wisdom, understood that he deserved nothing less than the greatest of loves.

fun fact i actually hate this

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed. crossed names means i couldn't tag you) :: @saturnssunflower @sopheeg @minkyungseokie @alexander-hamilhoe @butterfly-lover @cool-ultra-nerd @tomriddleswhorecruxes @everbizzare @chonkybonky @styl1shl1v

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ AS YOU WISH ꒱ DILUC RAGNVINDR X READER

warnings ⟢ minors do not interact—i will block you! bondage. slight dubcon (but not really...trust). cunnilingus. reader has a vagina, wears panties, is shorter than diluc, and is referred to as “dearest” once.

word count ⟢ 952

notes ⟢ this fic is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was diluc + bondage. i want to give a HUGE thank you to my beloved zebra (@tartagliove) for the beautiful redraw of darknight hero diluc in the banner. ze—i’m in awe of your talent, and i feel honored to have your artwork at the top of my fic!

The sounds of gore cease suddenly.

You hold your breath and listen, straining to hear signs of who won the battle. Tendrils of smoke drift into the air and the ripe stench of death coats your tongue; gooseflesh skitters across your limbs. When the blindfold is ripped from your head, you let out a shriek, chest heaving as you regain composure. A mere pace from you is a masked figure who is renowned in Mondstadt, more legend than man: the Darknight Hero.

His entire body is obscured by an inky cloak, a birdlike mask covering all but the lower half of his face. A shock of crimson hair is gathered high into a ponytail at his crown, his tresses a cascade of flames that lick down his neck and back. His irises are the same color: the glowing embers of a dying fire, sparking hot then fizzling out.

Before you can so much as thank him, he gestures to your arms. They are bound with rope that looks like it was dipped in the cosmos—indigo charmeuse pinpricked with wandering stars—intricately woven with Abyssal magic to suspend your wrists above your head.

“It’s going to be a while until that magic wears off.”

His voice is rich and flinty; it reminds you of charcoal. When his gaze flickers to your flimsy nightwear, you squirm against your restraints, acutely aware of your vulnerability.

“What would an Abyss Herald want to do with you, I wonder?” The hero slowly circles you, appraising, an umbertail falcon stalking his prey. “You have no vision. And you certainly aren’t prepared to fight.” A gloved fingertip, sooty with ash and ichor, grazes the hem of your shorts—much too close to your inner thigh.

“Is this an interrogation?” you snap. “Because I’d also love to know why I’m here.”

An amused smile tugs at the man’s lips. He’s so near that you can see the puckered flesh of a scar that cuts across his cheek; he grasps your chin with surprising gentleness. While his words are terse, they drip with honey. “You’re a mouthy one, hm? So tell me, then,” he pulls your shorts down and they fall to your ankles, a digit moving to stroke the waistband of your panties, “were you touched here?”

“S-stop,” you stutter, swallowing thickly. “This hardly seems appropriate for the hero of Mondstadt.”

One strong hand steadies your waist while the other pets the pubic hair that curls out from beneath your lacy briefs. He chuckles and leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a whisper, “Are you claiming you don’t want this?”

From the moment you first spied the tall, broad figure of your savior, a simmering warmth ignited in your belly, kindling into a roaring fire. Lust seeps through the thin garment that barely preserves your modesty, clinging to your labia. Even in the dim, flickering light of the room, your need is apparent in your smoldering stare and spit-slick pout.

Swiftly, he withdraws. “I will not stoop so low as to force myself on—”

“Don’t play the proper gentleman all of a sudden. Touch me.”

Without another word, the Darknight Hero drops to his knees. His eyes are a dusky glass of dandelion wine, drinking you in as he mouths at your clit through sopping fabric, his tongue pressed flat, savoring your arousal. But he doesn’t tease you for long; he tears off your final layer and discards it like an afterthought, humming at the sight of your exposed cunt. The stubble on his cheek scrapes the plush of your thighs as he spreads your legs. You wobble with the movement, the rope burning your wrists as your arms stretch uncomfortably.

A sweet peck to your clit is your only warning before he slips between your folds. He starts with tender licks and caresses, occasionally dipping down to lave at your hole, then returning to where you need him most, sloppily sucking until your head grows fuzzy with pleasure. You try to focus on and decipher the patterns that his slippery muscle weaves. His mouth melds perfectly with your heat, and his deep, rumbling groans heighten your bliss.

But your shoulders ache, and you’re worried that your ankles are going to give out on you.

“Diluc,” you whimper.

In an instant, your husband stands up—chin dewy with your desire. He rips off a glove and singes the rope; your body floods with relief as your arms fall slack. He removes his mask to reveal his drawn expression: brow furrowed and jaw firmly set. “I pushed you too far,” he states, examining the bands of raw flesh that encircle your wrists.

You shake your head vehemently. “No—not at all. I agreed to this, you know.”

His visage softens with your reassurance, though his eyes still shine with concern. He presses a featherlight kiss to each of your injuries. “Shall we return home? I’d like to get some salve on your wounds as soon as possible. In fact, I may visit Sucrose for a fresh jar. Of course I won’t detail what happened or why we need the salve...”

Diluc’s anxious rambling trails off, and he soaks in your palpable irritation as you frown.

“What is it, dearest?”

“Well, I was hoping the Darknight Hero would finish what he started,” you huff, ignoring the heat that blooms in your face at the admission.

“Oh,” he smirks, stepping closer, “is that right?”

“Don’t make fun of me—I’ll make you regret it.”

“I would never dream of such a thing.”

“So…” You press your palms to his chest, rising to your toes. “You’ll take me up to Mr. Ragnvindr’s study, hero?”

His lips ghost yours, sticky, heady with you. “As you wish.”

[doctorsilverhead]

Can you do TFP Optimus x reader x Bay Optimus, please? I don't know how to pull this scenario but having both the leaders is a dream come true aaaaaa!!! 😔🫶🏻

Soft Spot (TFP Optimus X Bay Optimus X Human Reader)

The sun had set over the vast expanse of the Nevada desert, casting a warm glow across the Autobot base. You stood on the observation deck, gazing up at the twinkling stars that adorned the night sky. A gentle breeze caressed your face, carrying the faint scent of desert flora.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind you, and you turned to find the towering figure of Optimus Prime approaching. His azure optics shone with a gentle radiance, and a warm smile graced his metallic features.

"Enjoying the evening, [Your Name]?" he inquired, his deep baritone voice resonating within your very being.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. "It's beautiful out here. I never get tired of watching the stars."

Optimus moved closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over you. "The cosmos holds countless wonders, and yet, the beauty of this planet never ceases to amaze me."

As you gazed up at him, a familiar rumble caught your attention. Turning, you saw the sleek form of the Bay Optimus Prime rolling towards you, his alt-mode gleaming under the moonlight. He transformed, his powerful frame unfolding with fluid grace, and stood beside his counterpart.

"Greetings, [Your Name]," he said, his voice rich and commanding.

You found yourself caught between these two magnificent beings, your heart racing with a mixture of awe and affection. The TFP Optimus reached out, his massive hand gently cupping your form, while the Bay Optimus leaned down, his face mere inches from yours.

"We have been drawn to you, [Your Name]," the TFP Optimus murmured, his optics shining with a tenderness you had never witnessed before.

The Bay Optimus nodded, his gaze intense yet filled with warmth. "Your courage, your compassion, and your unwavering spirit have captured our sparks."

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you found yourself enveloped in the embrace of these two legendary Primes. Their energy fields intertwined, creating a harmonious resonance that enveloped you in a cocoon of pure, unconditional love.

As their metallic forms pressed against you, you felt a connection deeper than anything you had ever experienced before. A bond that transcended physical boundaries, a union of souls that defied the boundaries of species and reality.

In that moment, you knew that your destiny was forever intertwined with these noble warriors, and your heart swelled with a love that knew no bounds. In this dance across dimensions, you discover that love, in all its forms, is the truest form of magic, a force that binds the universe together, making even the impossible, possible. And in the heart of this cosmic ballet, you stand, a testament to the power of love that knows no bounds, a bridge between worlds, a beacon of hope for all beings, human and machine alike.

pt 2???

[crguang]

ocean eyes

You’ve never seen the ocean. Kafka introduces you to it.

fluffy as fawk, recycled the idea from that fic but it’d be like a prequel technically, 2.3k words

A/N: couldn’t stop thinking about kafka loving the sea she’s made for me atp. title only makes sense because of the other fic lol

The sea breeze washes over your being, it caresses each strand of hair and softly touches your skin like gentle hands cupping your cheeks. You feel it in your ears, a sound you’re hearing for the first time; its warmth seems to enter your lungs and clear it of past impurities with every inhale, and you wish to take a deep breath to keep it inside your chest forever.

The sensation leaves you immobile. In front of you, the ocean. A myth come true, its beauty rivaling Idrila’s. It’s vast, bigger than your mind can comprehend even after so many years spent traveling the cosmos, and a deeper blue than the sky it’s reflecting. Water has never been so alive, with waves crashing on the shore and currents on the horizon, you are facing an entity larger than life. Its depths create and harbor life that you won’t ever get to see. Your mortal eyes can only perceive a fraction of it, so small and significant. You didn’t think it was possible for water to kiss the sky, having the proof before you fills you with wonderment. Among it, some strange feeling nestles in your throat. You stand as it curls around your vocal cords and leaves you mute. Words are useless in front of something so grand, you realize, they fade away as if they've never existed at all. You lose yourself in cold blues and the occasional whites of flying seagulls, in salty air that quickly becomes your favorite scent, and you can’t speak for a long moment.

Lithe fingers, laced with your calloused ones, tighten their hold on your hand. It takes a couple blinks to tear your eyes away from the boundless sea, and you turn to Kafka’s fond smile. She’s watching you, drinking you in like you’re the precious sight and not the limitless expanse of water on the coast. A thumb swipes over the crease of your eye, lingering at the corner for a second too long, and you realize she’s wiping a tear away.

“Oh,” you exhale softly, bringing your free hand to your face. Your cheeks are wet with silent tears and you sniffle as you wipe them from your skin. “I didn’t even notice.”

“What were you thinking about so intently just now?”

You look back at the sea, an ache in your throat. The sun hides behind thin clouds and paints the world in soft colors.

“I was wondering if my planet was ever this pretty. I wish my mother could have seen it.”

Your home world fell victim to a Stellaron, like plenty throughout the galaxy. It dried most of your rivers and evaporated many of your lakes, transforming seas into lands full of sand. Water was a limited resource and a tedious thing to acquire. You remember stumbling on a picture book with various shades of blue filling some of the pages and asking your mother about it. That evening, she explained the ocean to you; never-ending, deeper than mortals can comprehend and filled with creatures your childish mind could merely compare to alien life. You thought she was making stuff up, maybe embellishing a mundane truth, but she spoke of the sea with the same tenderness she used to tuck you into bed. As you grew, you understood that it was longing in her words, a deep desire for something she would never experience in this lifetime. To you, it felt pointless to yearn for something she didn’t know; your mother was born long after the Stellaron infected your planet and spread its cancer to the roots of your world. You didn’t understand how this desire was born, where it came from. Yet, in her eyes resided a wistfulness that was only extinguished the day she died. She left the waking world longing for the sea, and memories of her constrict your chest as you stand at the edge of it.

Kafka hums, pivoting to face the water. A gentle silence settles between you as you watch the waves rise and fall on the shore. Her bare palm is warm against yours, it grounds you to the sand beneath your feet. Seagulls make a grating sound, you discover, but even their squawking can’t ruin the view before you. You feel a sudden restlessness to touch the water, to have it envelop you entirely until you feel yourself disappear in it as if absorbed.

“Can we go in the water?”

Kafka smiles. “Sure.”

Your hand slips from hers and you step out of your slides, sinking your toes into the hot sand of the beach. Sand is something you’re familiar with, it reminds you of your mom and your broken world. Comfort fills you with every step towards the waves. Kafka follows beside you, used to the sights and the sensations. She comes here every summer, but this is the first time she’s brought you along. You understand why she’d want a place like this all to herself, it brings forth a sense of serenity best enjoyed in solitude. Or, at least it did, before. Before experience brought you closer.

You hesitate somewhat once you reach the water. Your feet are submerged in it and suddenly its vastness becomes a little terrifying. Kafka walks in further until she’s standing waist deep in the water, circling hands creating ripples around her. She turns to face you with a silent question on her stretched lips.

“…I don’t know how to swim,” you confess uselessly, prompting a chuckle out of her. She knows that, obviously, since you’re unfamiliar with large bodies of water.

“We can stay on the shallow end. Don’t want you drowning on my watch, I’d get in a lot of trouble with the others.”

Kafka holds out her hand. You take it with some reticence. She brings you close enough for wet fingers to squeeze your waist affectionately. Her easy expression makes you at ease, she seems different on this planet, more carefree. She’s not wearing her contacts and her ponytail is lower than usual, its tie looser around her long locks of hair. You’re privy to a side of her you had no idea existed and you’re honored by the trust she puts in you.

“Nice, right?”

“It’s cold,” you reply, looking down at your wobbly reflections.

“Mm, I like it.”

You dip your hands beneath the water and turn your palms to the sky. Algae brushes against your calves as you move around. Kafka lets you explore, head tilting back to face the sun. You venture a bit further until your neck is the only thing sticking out of the water. Impulsively, you squeeze your eyes shut, pinch your nose with two fingers and sink into the water. Every sound is muffled in your ears, and in the darkness everything is pointless. This is different from a shower or being caught in the pouring rain, you feel light. weightless, insignificant. You wonder if that’s what your mother longed for, this freedom to be anything and anyone, drifting through the boundless sea. You emerge with a little gasp, rubbing the water out of your eyes before blinking them open.

You’re careful not to stray too far from where Kafka is drinking in the faint sunlight. Her eyes are closed when you glance back at her, chin tilted to the heavens. Her shoulders have turned a rosier color from the sun and her dark, backless bathing suit contrasts beautifully with the clear ocean blue. You walk towards her, flicking your wrist to send water flying her way. Her brows twist for a second before she looks at you with a small smile. Kafka always smiles a lot, more often than not to unsettle her opponent or prey, but there’s a softer edge to the ones she’s had since you arrived on this planet.

“What do you usually do here?” You ask, moving closer to her.

“Float. Wanna try?” Kafka holds onto your waist when you’re close enough to reach, pulling you towards her. “I can show you.”

“I don’t want to drown.”

“You’re not going to drown.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Kafka playfully rolls her eyes and takes hold of your chin with a few fingers. Her gaze follows the movement of her thumb across your jaw, then flicks up to meet yours.

“I wouldn’t let you,” she says, leaning in to press her lips on yours in a soft kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as her mouth slowly moves against yours. She pulls away after a moment and looks at you. “Do you trust me?”

“At times.”

“Well, trust me now.”

One of her hands is placed on the small of your back to support you, the other gently guides you onto your back by applying pressure on your chest.

“What if I float away,” you say, a tinge of panic enveloping you, and you grab her wrist to stay upright.

Kafka can’t help the amusement on her face. “To where?”

“Far, I don’t know.”

“Would you miss me?”

You pout. “It’s a valid fear to have.”

“It’s really not.”

“What if I float to the deep end, then it’s too late to come back and I drown because I can’t swim?”

Kafka looks at you for a moment, eyelids lowering and an amused smile on her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like she’s thinking of something funny.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“You killed three flying beasts twice your size at once, last week. You're scared of a little water?”

“Fuck you,” you try pushing her away, but she only presses you further into her with her arms around your waist, a laugh escaping her. “There’s nothing little about the fucking ocean.”

“Relax,” she drawls, “it won’t work if you’re tense.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Kafka curls a hand around the back of your neck and suddenly brings you closer to capture your lips with hers. Her head tilts to kiss you better, and you can’t focus on anything but the sweet kisses she presses against your mouth. Your wet hand trails up her spine, causing droplets of water to slide down her back. Your lips part to deepen the kiss when her tongue swipes over your bottom lip. You forget the argument, your muscles relax as her chest touches yours, and by the time she pulls away with a soft exhale through her nose, you almost forget your surroundings. You chase her lips as she leans back, planting a few more chaste kisses on her mouth. She indulges you for a minute, the fingers on your nape tightening their grip for an instant. You’re breathing heavier when she separates from you for good and smiles.

“Now, let’s try it again, mmh?”

Kafka teaches you how to float in the water with firm hands and occasional teasing jabs to which you would respond if she wasn’t the one standing between you and drowning. In the end, you spend most of the day at sea, learning how to keep water from going up your nose without using your fingers and the basics of swimming. Your fingertips are pruned hours later as you emerge from the water. Kafka’s still under— you bet on who could hold their breath the longest— so you dive back beneath the surface as quietly as you can. She calls you a cheater afterwards, but you distract her with wet, slippery kisses.

You’re drying yourselves on the beach as the sun sets below the horizon. You sit on your towel next to Kafka, who’s reclined on her elbows. Her eyes are closed, not a crease between her brows, and her head is tilted upwards. Before, you thought she was sunbathing, but now the temperature is slightly lower than this afternoon and the sun is no longer visible in the sky. You think perhaps she’s simply enjoying the sound of the waves and the salty air like you did earlier. It’s funny, she hasn’t told you what this place means to her; it clearly holds some sort of significance if she returns to it annually. Her way of revealing herself is unconventional at best and a little clumsy, like a fawn taking its first steps. She presents you the sea, this part of her she keeps hidden from everyone, and says nothing else. You watch the lines of her nose, the curves of her lips and their pretty pink color. Her face is bare from any makeup, her hair loose and her expression so relaxed she might’ve been asleep. She’s beautiful. You’re no longer gazing at the ocean, though you feel a familiar sense of wonder as you observe her. Your heart is light in your chest and you suddenly understand how your mother could yearn for something she’s never experienced before.

Kafka’s eyes slowly blink open. She tilts her head to meet your stare with a smile, and you long to love her like your mother longed for the sea.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

You nod. Your limbs move before you can stop yourself; you straddle her waist, sitting on her lap and snaking your arms around her back. Kafka lets you bury your nose in the crook of her neck, using a hand in the sand to support the both of you.

“What’s that for?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice as you breathe in the smell of the sea on her skin.

“Nothing,” you lie, pressing a kiss to her skin.

Your mouth trails up her neck to her jaw, tasting salt, and Kafka hums when you kiss her lips. It feels different to kiss her after getting acquainted with the ocean because you finally have something to compare the weightlessness that overwhelms you with each of her fervish kisses. A hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer until she reclines on the ground and your body follows without missing a beat, lips locked.

You pull away to breathe in, only slightly, reveling in the sensation of her hand up your back.

“You’ll get sand in my hair,” Kafka mutters into your mouth.

“I’ll wash it for you.”

On a deserted beach and with the sea as your witness, you kiss her until the moon ascends in the sky and the waves grow stronger behind you.

[ebbpup]

Do you think that cosmo and Wanda would chose to be human if peri did? They’re going to lose their baby eons before they should :(

you are going to make me cry in the middle of art class.

I feel like they'd feel very conflicted, but I do think they would try to be human, not permanently like Peri, but just for a bit. To experience what he did, to see why he chose to live such a short life. I think watching him grow older and older, they'd def start to wonder if it is worth being practically immortal when they're gonna lose him so soon. After he finally does pass, I think they would decide to be human. To live on for him, to continue spreading his love for the mundane, for the smallest beauties of life, sure they'd miss their lives as fairies, but this isn't for them. This is for their baby.

[rosakuma]

Hey you, yes you random tumblr user who hopefully so happens to get this post on their timeline.

🫵😐

I have a question for you. Do you like a show about magical creatures who grant your every wish? A show about a pair quite strange that are a funny duo as they try helping out a girl who just moved to a new city feeling all alone? A comedically fun show with a surprisingly good life lessons and a fun cast of characters that bounce off each other well? Along with some good representation of both POC and LGBT groups. A show with strangely enough entertaining drama between two 10 years old that’s makes you go “Awww the sillies” and “NOOOOO WHY MUST THIS HAPPEN TO THEM!? *sobs* “ that tugs at your heartstrings? Not to mention Daddy Issues~✨ A show with a lovable black girl protagonist who cares about others as she tries putting others first, has a wild imagination of ideas, goes through internal struggles about herself and what others think of her, and loves rocks and French fries also maybe autistic coded too?

Well do I have the show for you!

Comso, Wanda if you please?

That’s right folks! The reboot/sequel to the classic nicktoon show The Fairly Oddparents : A New Wish is out right now internationally on Netflix! And you can check it out to see the fun adventures of Hazel Wells, a 10 year old girl who recently moved to a new city with her parents away from her older brother who was her best friend she rely on, but now is off to college. To which Cosmo and Wanda, two fairy godparents, who decided to come out of retirement to help her out with dealing with her new environment and situations she’ll get herself into.

It also is the show with that purple guy with swirly hair you’d seen on tumblr before? That’s right, Peri!

If I was able to peak your interest on the show, please go check it out on Netflix! And only watch it on Netflix as the show’s fate to get a second season depends on the views on Netflix for it to be greenlit for one. So no pirating and if you don’t have Netflix to be able to watch it, spread the word! To help get this show a second season is to help the talented crew members who work hard to deliver such a charming show that is a wonderful and fateful continuation of the OG it’s based off. Along with a win for animation since it’s been hard in the animation industry as of right now with animators, editors, storyboard artists, writers, and others in this industry struggling to be able to continue working on projects they love that also is their source of income. So be willing to lend a hand to help out to those people the best you can so that they can continue to have work and make fun shows like this one! Also it determines the fate of a certain character to hopefully get a happy ending and a good redemption arc plz my child deserves a second chance

Also here’s some advices for when watching A New Wish:

Try watching an episode or two a day. Putting it on loop too much might make seem not real viewers are watching and the views won’t count. Plus it be boring to speed through the first half of the season.

Try rewatching the show from time to time. Maybe watch it with a friend or two. Or perhaps a family member who enjoyed the OG show. Watch it with your dog maybe too!

Despite the show being out and most of the stuff being talked about already, keep talking about it to spread the word online! Any socials like tumblr, instagram, twitter, blue sky, tik tok you name it!

Also don’t post spoilers for any new viewers you see around. It’s more fun for them to experience first hand.

Alrighty, I shall take my leave now, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy FOP ANW!

[nephalem-da]

Celestial Bonds AU

Prologue: The Shape Who Saw the Stars

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Celestial Bonds follows the intertwined destinies of Bill Cipher and Maeloraelis (Mae), two beings born with the rare ability to see beyond their two-dimensional world. Their connection shapes not only their personal lives but also the fabric of reality itself, taking them from their homeworld of Euclydia to the cosmic chaos of the multiverse, and ultimately, the pivotal events of Gravity Falls.

Masterlist || Next Chapter.

In a place where everything was flat, even the dreams, a young yellow triangle named Bill Cipher lived in the dimension known as Euclydia. It was a second-dimensional world, inhabited by shapes—triangles, squares, circles—moving along planes and edges, living out their lives in a perfectly two-dimensional existence. Euclydia was not a land of wonder, but a land of routine, of unchanging stillness. Here, the only perspective was linear, and all creatures thought in terms of flatness.

But not Bill. Bill was different.

He had been born with a rare mutation—an eye that saw beyond the boundaries of this flat prison. An eye that could perceive the stars, the endless depth of the third dimension, something the others in Euclydia could never imagine. To them, the idea of a third dimension was as absurd as seeing air or touching sound.

In the beginning, this difference made him special—almost revered. The inhabitants of Euclydia looked at him with curiosity, some even with awe. His talk of stars, of distant places beyond their understanding, at first seemed like the words of a visionary. But as time passed, and Bill's insistence on the existence of worlds beyond their own became stronger, they no longer looked at him with admiration. They looked at him with suspicion.

“Stars? Nonsense,” they would say, scoffing. “There’s nothing beyond what we can see. Nothing beyond what we know.”

The once respectful gazes turned into wary glances, then outright disgust. They whispered behind his back, mocked his visions, calling him a dreamer in the cruelest sense of the word. It didn’t take long for him to become an outcast among his peers. But Bill, small as he was, did not let it bother him. He was a boy with big dreams, far too big for the flat world he lived in. The mockery and disdain did not touch him; instead, it strengthened his resolve. He was going to show them the stars one day—the stars only he could see, the stars that only he could admire.

Even his parents, Scalene and Euclid, could not fully understand their son. Scalene, his mother, with her cool blue edges, worried about her son’s obsession. She had always wanted him to fit in, to be loved by their community. His father, Euclid, a sharp red triangle, had hoped for a boy that followed the rules of the world, the logic of their existence. And yet, Bill was always a step beyond them, dreaming, always dreaming. Even so, they loved him dearly, accepting the fact that their son was born different, though they often exchanged worried glances when they saw the faraway look in his eye.

It was the same every day. His bullies taunted him, throwing jeers at him from across the schoolyard, their voices flat and hollow like the world around them. His parents, while supportive, could not hide their concern whenever they saw him staring off into the distance, his gaze fixed on a part of the sky they couldn’t comprehend. And the neighbors—those insufferable neighbors—cast looks of disgust, whispering rumors about “the strange boy who talks to the sky.”

But none of it mattered to Bill. In his mind, he was already beyond them. He could see what they couldn’t—the stars, the galaxies, the infinite cosmos that spread out in all directions. He could see them all, and one day, they would see them too. He would show them. But for now, the stars were his.

Then one day, the routine changed. The whispers didn’t seem to reach him as much, the torment of the flat world faded into the background. His mother had been preparing for guests, a family of three coming to visit their home. The mother, an old friend of Scalene, a reunion long overdue. The father was a tall triangle with a dignified presence, a deep shade of purple that compliments his wife's bright pink, and a soft, kind shape with a warm smile. But it wasn’t the adults who caught Bill’s attention.

No, it was the shy figure hiding behind the mother’s side, a small pink triangle, peeking out from behind her mother’s shape. The moment their eyes met, Bill felt something strange, something he had never felt before.

She was like him.

Her eye, big and bright, was just like his—different. Not a normal Euclydian eye, but one that could see beyond. It was a connection that neither of them had ever experienced before, a silent understanding that passed between them in that instant.

The adults talked, exchanging hugs and handshakes, reminiscing about times long gone. But Bill and the girl—Maeloraelis, as her mother introduced her—stood in silence, staring at one another.

For the first time, Bill didn’t feel alone. He slowly raised a finger, pointing upwards, towards the nothingness the others saw as empty space. But to him, it wasn’t empty at all.

“Can you see them too?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking the words too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

The girl blinked, her eye reflecting the curiosity in his. She nodded, her voice just as quiet, “Yes... I do too,.”

And in that moment, something shifted in Bill. For so long, he had been content to keep the stars to himself, to revel in the beauty of the universe that only he could see. But now, standing in front of someone who shared his vision, who saw what he saw, he realized something.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be selfish anymore.

As the day went on, the adults continued their conversations, but Bill and Maeloraelis stayed in their own little world, a quiet understanding growing between them. They didn’t need to speak much; the connection they shared was deeper than words. In the vast emptiness of their two-dimensional lives, they had found something—someone—that made them feel whole.

For the first time in his life, Bill Cipher felt like he wasn’t alone.

And for the first time, he believed that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this flat world than he had ever imagined.

Because now, he had someone to share it with.

˙⋆✮ ﾟ｡ •┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ✮⋆˙

Let me know what you guys think! Follow for more! ☆

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˙⋆✮ ﾟ｡ •┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ✮⋆˙

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - FORTY THREE

“Exactly how long have I been gone?” Blitzø looked at his mother.

“Few days?” She rubbed her chin, looking up and thinking. “Week? Maybe two?”

“TWO F*CKING WEEKS?!” Blitzø’s eyes practically bugged out of his head.

“Blitzo! Language!” His mother feigned horror.

Blitzø sagged and rolled his eyes. She chuckled.

“Christ on a stick, mom!” He huffed.

“Time is different here. Wibbly wobbly and all that.” She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Sorry, sweetie.”

Blitzø rubbed his hands down his face in frustration.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re ready to go.”

“Reeeeeeally!” Blitzø looked up at her with stars in his eyes.

She smiled tenderly. “Your family is waiting for you.”

Blitzø felt tears welling up in his eyes. She smiled and brushed her hand across his cheek tenderly. He leaned into it, not wanting to forget the feeling of that hand ever again.

“But before you go…” his mother stood and spread her arms wide into the sparkling heavens above her. They flew apart and expanded until Blitzø and his mother were giants standing amidst the galaxies. She continued to expand the view further. They were in the Milky Way now. Blitzø recognized the planets.

Blitzø was mesmerized. He watched, transfixed as she reached out and plucked a planet from its place in the sky. She turned to face him, the planet slowly turning and hovering above her hand.

“There’s something I’d like you to have.”

Blitzø looked closer and realized it was the Earth. He looked at her, confused. She chuckled and smiled.

His mother brought the Earth closer to Blitzø, and waited until it had turned to reveal the moon.

“Take it,” she nodded at the moon.

Blitzø reached over and cautiously plucked the little marble from its orbit. He looked it over between his fingers in wonderment. It was simple, but absolutely f*cking beautiful.

His mother released the Earth and it returned to its place in the cosmos. With a wave of her hands the universe contracted again. She held out her hand. He took it, not ever wanting to let go.

She smiled.

“Let’s put that little gem somewhere safe, shall we?” She took the moon from him and put it in his pocket. “There. In a pocket. Safe and sound. Somewhere you’ll always be able to find it.”

Blitzø smiled at his mother. He loved how she had always fussed over him.

“I want you to give that to Stolas,” she pointed to his pocket.

“You want me to give Stolas the moon?” Blitzø asked, skeptically, eyebrow raised.

She chuckled and pulled him into a fierce hug. “He’ll understand.”

“As long as someone does,” Blitzø laughed.

They hugged in comfortable silence for a time. Blitzø wanted this moment to last forever. He didn’t want to say goodbye to his mother ever again.

“Sweetheart?” His mother pulled back from their hug and looked at him. “Please know my death was NEVER your fault.”

Blitzø broke down in tears.

His mother slapped both hands on either side of his face and squished his cheeks until his lips puckered

“Ahh-ooo” Blitzø sniffled through puckered lips. His tears were tears of pain now. “Wah wuv dah fur?”

His mother laughed joyfully and hugged him tightly, wrapping them both in her tail.

Blitzø laughed in spite of himself, returning the gesture.

“Promise me that you will stop blaming yourself for my death.”

Blitzø buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, not wanting to let go. “I promise, momma.”

“And promise me you’ll tell that sweet Prince of yours that you love him.”

“Yes, momma,” Blitzø whispered. “I promise.”

“You are worthy of so much love and happiness.” She stroked his horns tenderly. “I see a bright future ahead of you, if you open yourself up to love.”

Blitzø nodded with his face still buried in her hair. “I will.”

Blitzø’s mother released him from their hug.

“It’s time to go.”

“Will we ever see each other again?” Blitzø choked on his tears.

“My sweet, precious boy…” She held him one last time and whispered, “I see you every day.”

*****

[deoreoo]

Can I have something fluff with Rocket pretty please?

-💥

CITTALI

Rocket x Reader fluff!

Mhmhmhm i went crazy on this one can you tell?

Under the vast canopy of night you and Rocket found yourselves on a gentle hill away from the city’s bustling place, The grass beneath was soft and the sky above was a tapestry of shimmering stars. Rocket was always eager for exploration laid back with a sigh of contentment eyes fixed on the celestial display

"Look at that constellation," You pointed out, tracing the outline of Orion with a finger Rocket’s eyes sparkled with interest as he tried to connect the dots.

"I’ve read about that one" Rocket said, his voice filled with excitement "It’s amazing how ancient stories link to these stars"

Rocket propped himself up on one elbow, his face illuminated by the soft glow of starlight.

“Do you think there’s more out there, beyond what we can see?”

You smiled, imagining the endless possibilities

“Absolutely. The universe is so vast, and we’ve only just begun to explore it each star and planet has its own story, waiting to be discovered.”

Rocket's eyes widened with wonder the bright lights from the sky illuminating on his eyes “It’s incredible to think that somewhere out there, someone might be looking up at the same stars and wondering about us”

The thought lingered in the air as we both gazed up in contemplative silence a gentle breeze rustled the grass around us, adding to the serenity of the moment

Rocket suddenly sat up, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, let’s make a wish on a shooting star! Maybe it’ll come true.”

We watched eagerly as a streak of light crossed the sky. Rocket closed his eyes and whispered his wish while you made your own silent hopes. As the shooting star faded we both felt a warm sense of connection to the cosmos.

As the last traces of the shooting star vanished, Rocket settled back down beside you, his gaze returning to the stars. “So, what’s your favorite constellation?”

thinking for a moment before answering.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the Big Dipper. It’s not just a constellation but part of a larger group called Ursa Major. It’s been used for navigation for centuries.”

Rocket’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “That’s so cool! I’ve heard about how it’s used to find the North Star. What about other constellations?”

“Well,” you start off thinking-

“there’s Cassiopeia, which looks like a ‘W’ in the sky. It’s named after a queen in Greek mythology who was known for her beauty.”

Rocket tilted his head, considering this. “Mythology is so interesting. I’ve read that the stars in Cassiopeia are actually different distances from us, but they just look like they’re in a line because of our perspective.”

“Exactly,” you say with a grin your eyes seemingly twinkling with excitement as you continue speaking

“The stars in any constellation aren’t necessarily related to each other They’re just grouped together from our viewpoint.”

Rocket pointed to a cluster of stars. “What about that one? It looks like a triangle or maybe a dorito..."

“That’s the Summer Triangle, It’s made up of three bright stars from three different constellations- Vega in Lyra, Deneb in Cygnus, and Altair in Aquila. Together, they make a distinctive shape that’s easy to spot.”

Rocket traced the triangle with his finger, visibly impressed.

“I love how each constellation has its own story and significance. It’s like the night sky is a huge, cosmic tapestry, and every star is a thread in it.”

Then he turned to you with a huge goofy grin

"But you seem to be a nerd when it comes to the stars"

"I'll take it as a compliment thank you!" You snort as you playfully smack his arm making him retaliate and slap you back earning fits of laughter under the starry sky

As we both continued to converse about the constellations, Rocket's gaze became wistful. He looked up at the stars with a thoughtful expression, lost in his own imagination.

“You know” Rocket began slowly “sometimes I wish I could be a star in another timeline. Imagine being part of that endless dance of light shining brightly for centuries, and seeing the universe change over time.”

You glance at Rocket intrigued and amused by his thought. “That sounds interesting i wonder what would it be like?”

Rocket’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. “I’d love to be a star, witnessing the birth of new celestial bodies, watching planets form and maybe even seeing distant civilizations look up and wonder about me. It would be like being part of something so grand and timeless”

You smiled, touched by Rocket’s poetic vision. “It’s amazing to think about how every star has its own journey. Even though we’re just observers, we’re connected to that grand narrative in our own way.”

Rocket nodded, his gaze fixed on the distant stars. “Yeah.... It makes me feel like even if I’m not a star, I’m still part of the same vast universe It’s comforting to think that our dreams and wishes are intertwined with the cosmos.”

As the chill of the night settled around us, Rocket shifted closer, wrapping hiself with his arms we sat side by side, the gentle rustle of the grass the only sound besides our quiet breathing.

Rocket’s voice softened to a contented murmur. “Even if we’re not stars, moments like these make me feel like we’re part of something just as magical.”

Iooking over and saw Rocket’s eyes reflecting the starry sky.

“Absolutely. It’s moments like these that make the universe feel a little smaller and a lot more beautiful.”

We both sighed in unison, feeling a deep sense of peace the stars above seemed to twinkle a bit more brightly as if sharing in our quiet joy as the night wore on we drifted into a comfortable silence wrapped in the softness of the moment and the shared warmth of friendship.

With the cosmos as our backdrop and the promise of more adventures to come feeling myself close my eyes feeling truly content and connected under the infinite sky

[meguyummy]

pls see the vision lets have a reddit love story guys! reader owns a book store, izuku's a nerd, pt 1.

--

Internet anonymity is something that you abuse often. Who could really blame you, though?

It's late evening, almost closing time. Sat behind the counter in your small antique bookstore, the only noises you hear are the occasional rustling and crunching of autumn leaves. Today was a slow day, and you're insanely bored. Pulling out your phone, you wonder which app to kill time on before closing up shop. Twitter has been uninteresting, and YouTube has irritatingly long unskippable ads. So recently, you've turned to Reddit. More specifically, r/HeroSnark.

Initially, all your critiques on heroes were posted on Twitter, long and profane rants that got you suspended multiple times. You gained a following for being an outspoken "hero hater", but the sheer amount of die-hard All Might fans who almost found your location deterred further posting. Hating in peace was way more fun than getting swatted.

Has anybody else noticed how sloppy Pinky is getting with her acid recently? Public damage is out the fucking wazoo. Istg if I see another hole in the sidewalk I'll riot.

After posting to the subreddit, you turn off your phone and stand up, ready to flip the sign on the door to "closed" and head home. That's when the work phone rings. Of fucking course that's when the phone rings.

Plopping back down with a groan, you yank the phone out of the receiver and greet the caller, wondering if they've ever checked your closing time (or have, and were just shameless enough to not care).

"Hi! I noticed you have a copy of Captain Cosmos' special edition autobiography and I was wondering if you could hold it for me. I'll pay extra!"

You cringe, scrunching up your face at the phone. The voice on the was certainly.. enthusiastic. The caller was a guy, with a deep, but still somewhat boyish voice. He must be a fanboy on a different level if he liked Captain Cosmos, an ancient and mostly irrelevant hero. Your store offered all kinds of obscure old books, and despite your personal dislike, you knew better than to hurt business by not selling hero media.

"Yeah... I could do that if you're planning on coming to pick it up within the next two days. Are you?" You hope your exhaustion isn't too obvious from your voice.

"Yes! Yeah, I am. Thank you so so much I've been looking all over for it. I'll be there tomorrow!"

You say both say parting words, and you put the phone down, closing up quickly so no other last-minute calls can stall you. Walking up the stairs you retire to your apartment.

Living above the shop was a dream come true, allowing you to thrive without the possibility of an annoying downstairs neighbor. The space was cozy, designed perfectly to your liking after years of living there. After a relaxing shower, you slump into the couch. Checking the post, you read replies from others who have noticed the exact same issue and are equally frustrated by it, some even bringing up more problems you hadn't even noticed yet. You upvote a couple responses, reply to others, and turn on a sitcom.

The amount of bitching done online doesn't mean you're an asshole to people in real life too. Not to normal people, at least. The fact that heroes act like celebrities instead of the crucial emergency workers they really are grinds your gears. Who needs to see Can't Stop Twinkling's annoying ass on TV for something that isn't a rescue? There's a pedestal that they always put themselves on, like they're all-mighty and amazing and need to be praised, but their actions never speak enough for your liking.

A new reply catches your attention, and your brows furrow reading it. This is probably because she's been suffering injuries from her last mission and has still been pushing herself to work and save civilians! We should all be a little bit nicer :)

You frown, blinking hard down at your phone at the reply. Why the hell is.. u/minimight on here to spread positivity? Wrong place for that, bud. You pause the sitcom and sit up from your slouching position on the couch, readying your thumbs.

First, the downvote button gets smashed. Hard.

Dude, I honestly couldn't give less of a fuck that she's injured. If she can be a guest judge on The Masked Singer while injured, she can try a little harder to not make the sidewalk in my area look like Swiss cheese.

Why would anybody who likes heroes spend any time in that subreddit? The whole point is being able to dunk on them freely. You're not going to let some random guilt-trip you.

A reply comes in a minute later. The sidewalk is going to be fixed soon, it was just a minor inconvenience that came during her battle to save a life!

Way to make it deeper than it was supposed to be, u/minimight. You send another quick downvote.

Don't care lol save it for a hero-dickeating subreddit, not this one. You type.

While I understand your frustration, we should give more grace! I know how inconvenient and annoying things like this are, but not everything turns out as planned.

Holy shit they're not done. You don't really feel like arguing with a hero stan tonight, so you reply with a photoshopped picture of All Might in a clown suit.

They quickly reply. I just wish more people would have an open mind on these issues.

Yeah, u/minimight is gonna feel the banhammer soon. After swiftly downvoting their reply, you click on their account. They're a member of a couple All Might subreddits, which are expected, but also some more snark ones as well. They've written a couple of long posts written about random obscure heroes and their 'impact on hero culture'. Seeing that, you decide to write them off another annoying hero superfan and turn your phone off, changing the TV to a movie you've wanted to watch for a while.

Disappointed, (the movie was way worse than you expected) you switch off the TV and head to bed. As you lie there in the darkness, the image of All Might in a clown suit comes to mind, bringing a slight smile to your lips. Maybe tomorrow will be a less annoying day, free from hero fanatics.

[recitedemise]

𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝘃𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿. This lengthy headcanon will refer to canon dialogue from mostly Gale, sometimes others. Reader's discretion is advised. There will be in depth explorations into grooming, emotional abuse, heavy manipulation, and suicide.

First, let it be said that Gale, a mortal man, will always be the powerless one in his dynamic with Mystra. Of course, nearing forty years of age, he remains entirely responsible for his own actions, his own blunders and every hurt he'll cause, but it's important to remember who formed much of who he is: his goddess, his deity, and egregiously, his lover.

Mystra is power. Mystra is possibility. She knows what sway she holds over her Ioyal, vulnerable, and entirely mortal followers. In all ways that matter, they are but lambs she can steer and herd as she sees fit. She knows they can't deny her and knows they'll never want to. Gale's sheer servitude and complete devotion. Mystra, knowing that, used him to filth.

Gale: I was just... practising an incantation. Player Character: No, there's more to it than that. I know devotion when I see it. Gale: What can I say? She's—she's Mystra. I can't describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence... Mystra is all magic. And as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation. Player Character: I didn't realize the depth of your devotion. Gale: Magic is... my life. I've been touched with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it.

Gale, orb in his chest, doomed to be eaten by the very thing he loves the most, still speaks so reverently of the goddess, of his lover that has left him to die. He conjures images of her memory—and she is all the while forgetting about his.

Minsc: Gale reminds me of vremyonni of my homeland. The man-mages of Rasheman. While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth, I thought it born of caution after some catastrophe of wizardly men-folk of old. Now, I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm?

Tales of Mystra's treachery spreads far, leaving those familiar waters surrounding Gale's tower in Waterdeep. They whisper her name, afraid to utter it one time too many, suspecting, perhaps, that she'll show in their mirror like some Faerûnian Bloody Mary.

Talent rouses Mystra. She can see who uses the gift of the Weave and feel them, sampling whatever delight sings their veins as they pull from her domain. Not unlike a spider, she'll follows every tremor that strikes her as just a sliver more profound; and Gale, a prodigy, plucked the Weave's web to so garner her focus. And like some black widow scurrying, she surged down that ripple to prey on a boy. There, Gale, so impressionable, was just a mite older than twelve whole summers. He sat so stunned, beholding Mystra as she lured him into the cradle of her Astral domain. Bathed in her magic, pleasantly coddled within that glittering cosmos, Gale felt blessed in a way he'll struggle always to recount, no word, no language, fit to describe it. He felt chosen. He felt seen. And potently, to a child, he felt loved. Now, imagine a child experiencing something like that. Imagine what they'd think, how brilliant they must be when stood beside the rest. She told him he was gifted, made his heart swell not unlike a child's appetite for praise. She knew what she was doing by offering these morsels, by preying on a child's most delicate mind, and Gale, child prodigy, was already so awash in the idea that his value was in magic. Unfortunately, Gale, susceptible, had no way of squirming out of his goddess' grasp.

Reality: She's laid down the seeds to creep into his heart. When he's just old enough—seventeen's sufficient, she thinks—she stakes her claim and makes him hers.

Gale: My virtuosic talent once caught the eye of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra, who named me her chosen and her lover.

Gale is stunned when she takes him to bed the first time. (Is this really happening?) Mystra claims his mouth in a kiss, taking everything she knows he offers so willingly. Mystra, of course, is not so stunned.

Dream Visitor: An elder brain... one of the cruelest and most powerful creatures in existence, enslaved by mere mortals. Gale, tasked with Mystra's missive to sacrifice himself: This is it... I must do as Mystra commands.

Gale has worryingly low self-esteem beyond his magic. As already explored, his entire worth as a man hinged on and was built entirely off his talent as a wizard. He fought tooth and nail for any crumb of affection Mystra would offer his way, something she only gave him at all seeing his gift as a child. He wants her forgiveness. He desires it genuinely. He believes so firmly that he has wronged his goddess, buying into the idea that sacrificing himself will right his wrong. She holds such dominion over him, making him reduce his confidence in himself into a mere, trifling pittance; after all, she wasn't just his lover, but the patron deity he prays to. And regardless, Gale is a people pleaser, his initial acceptance of her missive coming as no surprise.

After all, Gale, at times, goes to incredible lengths to appease his audience. This habit, compulsion, impulse, whatever you want to call it, is a quality that was relentlessly exacerbated in his relationship with his immortal paramour. He wanted to content her, felt all he did was never enough, for as a matter of principle, he was oceans, leagues, and entire galaxies beneath her. Gale figures: well, how can a short-lived dalliance satisfy a god? He had to make her happy. Indeed, he'd done everything she'd ask. He'd bedded her how she liked, kissed her how she wanted, and of course, even said those words she'd said tasted best. She was his lover, a lover that never tended to his own needs and pleasures, and he fooled himself into thinking that's enough. He won't bend backwards for everyone, mind you, but if you're of the ones he would, he would stop at nothing to make you happy. After all, people pleasing is a way to keep oneself safe, a trauma response to sidestep discomfort, and though it achieves only a direly tentative peace, when that is all you've been fed, you will pursue it.

Gale did not want to lose Mystra; he couldn't bare the sting of it. And so, when Elminster visited him, Mystra's call for his death offered oh so callously, Gale, heartbroken, felt that part of him kick up. He couldn't endure the guilt, was so hungry for a chance to let his weighty heart breathe, even if it meant dying in the process.

At least this way, he'll finally do something right. At least this way, Mystra will forgive him, and all his friends will survive.

Gale: After I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I'd given up on myself.

As a byproduct of people pleasing, Gale, too, is all too quick to accept all guilt. He self-deprecates, gaslights himself to a venomous degree, and twists his reality in so cruel a way as to make him the villain Mystra'd led him to believe. He self-flagellates himself, the first one in the world who will throw Gale of Waterdeep a mental punishment. Mystra's a goddess, after all, seen as utterly faultless, and twined so tightly with a being so mighty in esteem, Gale slipped into the role of the guilty often. When tied with anyone with grandeur like this, so immeasurable in their own self worth, it's important to keep in mind this: you are nothing but a prop in which to fulfill their ego. Gale was not Mystra's, not by a long shot. Rather, Gale was a tool, simply her mortal extension.

And he took every blow meant for her... a common and terrible habit for many people in imbalanced, ego-fueled relationships.

Gale's life beyond her wasn't something that interested her. She took most of Gale's devotion, manipulated his life to be her sole mantle of attention, for Mystra is not a goddess that shares very happily.

Indeed, long before his self-imposed isolation, this jealous deity did well at keeping him isolated.

Player Character: Picture kissing him. With tenderness. Then, with passion. Gale: I... I didn't think— Narrator: You perceive quick-fire embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.

And so, cheated out of love, so reduced in his value as a man and lover both, suffice to say, Gale's slow to believe he can ever be loved. That's what happens when you're with someone so cold, consistent only in their infinite lack of respect. Gale looks at fondness, and he feels—confounded, to be sure. He thinks, is this truly mine to have? He doesn't know what to do, is nearly forty in game, and despite having lived decades devoted to one relationship, he feels, at the same time, entirely out of depth. To be frank, he greets it with embarrassment, like he's been caught red handed with something not his at all. He's like a child caught rummaging with his hand in a cookie jar, all this isn't mine to enjoy, not mine to indulge in, but he thinks, startled, but god, do I want. He wars with disbelief, uncertainty, and need, and in so many ways feeling utterly starved, with just a glimmer of affection, he falls fast into love.

Scenario: (And if properly romanced, it changes his world.)

Gale: In her (Mystra's) likeness, I used to read a thousand stories. She was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes. But now... it is hard to see any redeeming qualities in a lover who condemned you to death. I'd much rather gaze into your eyes than hers. Yours are capable of tenderness and feeling... No god could ever compare.

He says it with sincerity. There is such wonder, such love, and such awe in his eyes. He makes the act of kissing him feel like you've just reached into the trenches to but pluck him soundly from his ruin and despair. You think, Gale Dekarios, how unloved have you been all this time?

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command… none have loved me so purely before.

The answer is: entirely.

For so long, Gale thought love was simply being chosen. He knew nothing of being favored for the quality of his character, to be cherished and accepted even in those ways he fumbles and lacks. Again, his needs were seldom met, often treated with utter indifference by Mystra herself, and to meet someone so eager to treasure him, dote on him in a way his heart, his body is somberly new to, raptures his spirit and captures his soul. He's seen for who he is. He's... loved, desired for his silly quips, his easy smiles, and his growing affections. He bares himself to them, and in turn, they cradle his heart like something entirely precious. Gale thinks this has to be dream. He says, at times, you are more than I deserve.

Scenario: (But sometimes, he hopes too strongly and loves too greatly. As it always does, then, like he's once more wanted too much, he watches something beautiful slip right through his fingers. Of course, Gale Dekarios. Of course it does.)

Player Character: I didn't know you felt so strongly, Gale. Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach... but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn't enough.

They don't love him anymore. It breaks his heart. He hurts so much, so profoundly and deeply, and he doesn't realize that he breaks their heart in turn.

Unable to ever voice his feelings with Mystra in any way that amounted to much, Gale's a tendency to wallow, expressions coming off as potentially 'guilt-tripping' and even, on occasion, passive aggressive. Firstly: Gale NEVER means to manipulate emotions, and he's no intention of twisting anyone's arm, either. Fact is, Gale, never taken seriously when he'd bared his vulnerabilities to the Mother of the Weave, can end up saying just a little too much. He feels very deeply, and for most his life, seldom had an outlet for these weeping sentiments. He sometimes lets slip raw words and oftentimes heart-wrenching expressions; all the same, it's not so pitiful as to shepherd an outcome, but rather, is a gesture taken by a man so desperate to be heard. It may feel like scheming, but the truth is far, far greyer: feeling as though he's no right to share the depth of his heart, Gale simply lets it geyser out in a way he can't cork up. In ways he doesn't realize, he's adapted to this ache, passively reacting so his feelings can at least be seen and recognized—no matter how pitifully unwhole. With someone who values so little his thoughts... well, when he slips into these moods, one can hardly feign shock.

Situation: (And if no one shows him trust and tenderness, any true care in his character or worth, Gale gets swallowed up by how wronged he was.

He thinks: Let me be a god. Let no one hurt like me anymore.)

Gale: They only want us to serve them, pray to them...and ultimately, to die for them. But what if we didn't need them? What if we wielded their power instead and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen.

Gale is not above anger, and as stated, he is not above pettiness; however, more than that, he is not above righting himself whatever wound he was struck. Gale, if not offered much by ways of affection, understanding, is made to believe that one idea that's lived growing in his mind: Gale Dekarios is far from sufficient; he has to be more. He has to be better. Gale, in such an unkind ending for himself, sips too desperately—and perhaps greedily, too, but desperately serves as a far better word—at that idea that he needs power. And so, wresting the Crown of Karsus for himself, he spites Mystra in his own way, becoming a god he feels is leagues better than she will ever be. Damn her thoroughly. Damn her ego, her power, and her endless indifference. He will serve the people, protect them, and in ways Mystra never could, better the world.

Situation: But as a god, he loses all sense of his kindness. Humanity. All who loved him leave him, and even Tara spurns the image he's become. With power, he's gained the respect he thought he always wanted... but in turn, he lost in even greater measure all the love he's known.

Endnote: But healing, knowing to forgive himself and knowing he's deserving of care simply for being Gale Dekarios will remain, always, the best path for him.

[mythica0]

Giggles

🎂: Fop: anw

🧁: Dev

🍫: Magic, Technically Hazel, Cosmo and Wanda.

Summary: After Dev gets a case of the giggles, Hazel accidentally makes a strange wish. But she doesn’t mind.

A/N: this is part of the little story I have going! Also, Different ler this time! :D enjoy!!

Giggles

Dev was really giggly today.

He didn’t know why, but everything seemed hilarious. He was struggling to keep it together in class despite the fact that all they were doing was listening to a lecture on the history of America.

Everyone naturally noticed the drastic change from his usual attitude, especially Hazel. So, After school when they were doing their usual post-school hang out in the park, Hazel mentioned it.

“Hey dev! What’s going on with you today? You’ve been all giggly!”

“I dohohont know! Everything just seheems funny for some reheason. And I’m laughing even when I’m not finding anything funny!” Giggles littered his speech, making him have to talk around them.

“Well I like it! I wish you were this giggly all the time!”

“Coming right up, squirt!” Wanda winked at Hazel before doing a little gesture with her wand. There was a magical glow around Dev for a moment- but nothing happened.

Hazel looked up at Cosmo and Wanda, “why didn’t anything happen?”

“Well, he was already giggly! So the wish has nothing to do right now!”

“Oh, ok!”

They continued to hang for a minute before they separated and went home, excited to hang out the next day. They were having a lovely Saturday picnic.

“See ya tomorrow around noon, Dev!”

“Seheeehe ya hahazel!”

Dev was wondering the whole time what exactly the wish was going to do to him. Was it just gonna make him find everything funny again? He wasn’t sure. But he was about to find out.

The following morning, Dev woke up and immediately burst into giggles. There was an unbearably tickly sensation in his tummy. It felt like he was being tickled from the inside.

“Whahahahat ihihin thehehe wohohorld!” He wrapped his arms around himself, sitting up and doubling over in laughter.

‘Is this from hazels wish yesterday?’ His mind echoed, barely able to form coherent thoughts because of the fluttery, buzzing sensation.

Peri poofed into the room, hearing the laughter. “What’s going on Dev?”

“Ihihit tihihihicklehehes!!”

The purple wearer raised an eyebrow. “What tickles?”

“Ihi thihihink ihihits hahahazels wihish!”

“Ooohh, that makes sense. Is this gonna happen all day?”

“Ihi dohont knohohow!” All of a sudden the tingling spread to his ribs and sides, causing his giggles to grow.

“Eheeheeehahaahaaa! Ohoho myhyhy gohohosh hahahaheheha!”

After a minute, the tingling died down, but it didn’t stop entirely. It left a light buzzy sensation that made an impossible-to-repress smile adorn Dev’s face, and small giggles to leave him every once in a while.

Over the course of the next few hours, the two concluded that the wish would always leave a bit of tickly sensation in his tummy, making it so he laughed more often and at random things, but that sometimes it would kick up, causing him to double over in rapid giggles until they died down again.

Thank goodness it was a Saturday. But There was still the picnic. And not only was Hazel gonna be there, but so was Winn and Jasmine. And they didn’t even know Dev was ticklish yet.

And Dev couldn’t just not show up. That was rude! And also, Hazel would know why.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Reheady ahas I’m gonna gehet.” He giggled out, unable to stop the flow of laughter from pouring out of him.

Then the two left, although Dev wished to be there so he wouldn’t have to walk. He didn’t want to risk being seen by a stranger in a fit of unstoppable laughter.

The park was always dead, thankfully. That’s partially why the group chose it as a hang out spot. They could use magic without fear of being spotted.

Dev was the last to arrive, and he set down the snacks he had brought. (Some Doritos and snickerdoodle cookies.) then, he sat down on the blanket, giggling slightly

Hazel eyed him knowingly.

“So, Dev. What did my wish from yesterday do?”

Dev blushed but answered anyway. He was hesitant, because Winn and Jazz didn’t know, but he figured they would find out eventually so might as well get it over with.

“I-it’s been… tickling me.”

Winn and Jazz looked on in slight shock. “You’re ticklish? No way!”

Hazel nodded. “Yup! I’ve seen it myself.” She turned to Dev. “How’s the experience been?”

Dev was too flustered to answer, so Peri did for him, explaining what they had figured out over the course of the morning.

“I’m pretty sure he’s enjoying it, too~”

“Shuhuhut uhup!” Dev shoved at Peri, but it lost its bite due to the laughs that littered the sentence.

Winn looked to Hazel and asked, “What exactly did you wish for?”

Hazel smiled in an almost mischievous way. “So you know how Dev was all giggly yesterday?”

They nodded. “Well, I wished that he was that giggly all the time. I didn’t plan it out or anything, it kinda just slipped out, but I’m not complaining!”

Just then, the wish decided that now was a good time for it to kick up again.

Dev’s happy giggles burst from him in a wave, him curling around himself and flapping his hands.

“EEEhehehhahaha! Crahahahap nohot ahahagaAHAIN!” He protested, not really meaning it.

“Oh c’mon~, you say that as if this isn’t fun for you.” Peri teased, causing the already present blush on Dev’s face to grow.

“Peheheri!”

“Whaaaat~ I’m just telling the truth! I’m a horrible liar, Ask my parents.”

Cosmo nodded. “Yup! Can’t lie to save his life.”

Dev was completely disarmed by the tickles, then causing him to laugh and stim and squirm about, dropping any walls he might’ve had.

The tickles buzzed through his whole body, infesting his systems with a rush of dopamine. It tickled so much! But also felt so good! He couldn’t have felt sad if he tried, happiness being flooded into his systems as he laughed and giggled and smiled.

Eventually they died back down again,and they all had fun at the picnic. Winn used Dev’s extra giggly nature to practice his dad jokes, and after a while his stomach hurt in the best way from all the laughter.

As they were all eating dessert, the wish flared up once more.

“Dahahang ihihit nohohoho!”

Jasmine laughed a little. “It’s happening again!”

Everything in Dev was telling him to laugh, unbearable buzzing tickles shooting through his whole torso. He giggled uncontrollably, doubled over slightly while hugging himself.

“Having fun over there, Dev?” Hazel called with a smirk.

“Shuhuhuhush!” Dev giggled out, embarrassed at the teasing.

Hazel staged whispered in response “I’ll take that as a yes.”

After a few minutes, the wish wore off completely.

“Hahaha.. hoo. Wow.” Dev breathed out as it stopped.

“So how was it, Giggles?” Hazel asked with a smirk

“Oh, you think you’re sooooo smug?”

“As a matter a fact, I do!”

Dev laughed once more. “Ohhohoho! It is SO on!”

Little did Hazel know, this was the beginning of a war.

———THE END————————————————

[actual-changeling]

Before heaven, hell, or earth, the universe was an infinite stretch of light, and its absence housed God and her children.

It is hard to tell when exactly angels stopped conceptualising themselves as hers and started preferring empty white halls over whirls of energy and colourful nebulas, but we are way before that time, too.

Before time itself.

She can be anywhere and everywhere, yet for simplicity's sake, she travels in a blinding white cloud of energy, particles vibrating and changing into waves and changing back again, undecided between two states of being. Most of the time, she silently watches her children at work, content with their creativity and tasting their love for herself and her creations, but for once, she has a destination in mind.

An angel with gentle hands and fire-red hair is blowing stars into a previously empty part of the universe, a smile on their face that is brighter than their nebulae could ever hope to be.

She settles next to them, taking in their joyfully fluttering wings and the excitement radiating off of them. When they turn, there is no surprise or shock marking their face, only pleasant recognition.

"God! I'm almost done with this quadrant."

"My Starmaker," she greets softly, smiling, "wonderful work as always."

Tender pride ripples through them, starting in the middle of their chest and ending in a quick flick of their outer primary feathers.

"Thank you. Just give it a few millennia and there will be even more stars; I cannot wait to watch them bloom."

There is no reason to hold back affection, and so God doesn't, reaching out a slender hand to cup their face, caressing their cheekbone when they press into the touch.

"I am certain they will be just as perfect as their creator."

"They're wonderful to watch," they whisper back, their vision blurring. God's palm is warm, comfortably so at first but quickly gaining heat. Despite pain not having been invented yet, a stinging ache travels from the point of contact into their jaw, burrowing into the bones and invading their veins, spreading and spreading and spreading.

They suck in a sharp gasp of air (there is no air in the cosmos), their wings uselessly fluttering against the flames threatening to engulf them (their feathers cannot burn).

"My little Starmaker."

God's voice is distant, drowning in the rush of blood pounding in their ears as they begin to fall, attempting and failing to hold onto the hand brushing over their temples. Stars rush by, a colourful fog of light and love fading as the universe turns as dark as their wings, falling and falling and falling with no end in sight.

They close their eyes as tears are ripped from them, glistening, perfect pearls of grace leaving a glowing trail they will never be able to reach again. One last formation, a final spatter of stars painting their pain onto the night sky, and the Starmaker takes one last breath free of fire and brimstone and names it as God would want them to.

The Fallen Angel.

-

Crowley wakes in the middle of the night, unbreathing, unblinking, swallowing the scream stuck in his throat as the memory of pain begins to fade. If he stretches out a hand towards his ceiling and allows hellfire to prickle in his fingertips, it almost feels like it did back then when stars sprang from them, gentle and loving.

He curls his hands into fists and sits up, urging dawn to come and take away the night, averting his gaze from the stars breathing light above him.

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 6- Do You Believe in Soulmates?

Hello and welcome to day 6 of fictober. I hope you enjoy a little semi spooky blurb from us...

FICTOBER Prompt list and masterlist

Patreon

WC-1.2k

Warnings- wolves

-----

“Do you believe in soulmates?” The words floated on the warm night air to Y/N’s ears. She laid beside him on the blanket, looking up stars. It was the third night in a row that they’d continued their stargazing, Harry arriving to her home and promising to have her back safe and sound to her roommate before driving over to the lookout point over the lake. 

Y/N was new to town, looking for a new beginning, and Harry had found her on her worst day. Only 2 months in, she had been burnt out. Tirelessly writing her book at night and working at the cafe during the day for just enough for her rent, bills and some food here and there. If she didn’t get her free meals at the cafe, she knew she would be in an even worse spot- but she had left a place that had been dulling her life, keeping her tied and rooted with no place to grow. Leaving had been the best option. 

The lake town was tucked into the foothills of the mountains, A nice summer tourist population and a small, tight knit group of locals she was trying to find her place in. The weave was strong and the things seemed to be established, so she was trying to find a nice spot in between to settle- but her hanging out with Harry had made some waves. His family was a long time legacy, basically built the town up. He wasn’t much of a socializing type besides his small, even tighter group of friends, so when he was seen walking around with the new girl in town? It had spread like wildfire. It never ceased to amaze her how fast small towns spread gossip to the trees to set the rumor mill ablaze. 

She had been informed that Harry didn’t date around, he didn’t sleep around despite people being more than obvious in their interest. A coworker had divulged that she knew his family was apparently part of some sort of exclusive group with a share of other families in town and the surrounding era. It was all hush hush, but Y/N knew that it wasn’t her business. If Harry had his secrets, it was okay. She did too. 

Like how meeting him had given her the inspiration on what to model her male character on in her book. 

“I’m a romance novel author, Harry.” She rolled her head to the side. “Of course I do. It’s the best trope there is.” She laughed, looking back up at the stars. Sometimes his stare was a bit intense and made her squirmy. He always seemed to be looking. Somehow, she didn’t mind. 

“What do you like about it?” He asked, turning over on his side a bit as she continued looking up. 

“Theres a lot. I love the idea of unconditional love, but I know that isn’t realistic. So I think I like the thought that someone is meant for me. That there isn’t something wrong with me for always feeling like something is missing in my partners thusfar. I love that whole thing. Feeling like you were made for someone, that they’ll just get you and how you feel… It’s always been something I wished was something for me. But I hope one day I can meet mine.” Her sigh was dreamy, smiling at the sky as Harry continued staring at her. 

“Maybe you already have.” His voice was calm, just as it normally was, his eyes on her expression as he continued. “Well.. What if being with them required sacrifices? If life wouldn’t be different?” His words were ominous but Y/N was a bit oblivious. She always had been, full of wonder and stuck in her own brain. His question was one that had her mind whirling around, colorful thoughts throwing themselves at the walls until one stuck. 

“I mean, every good love story requires sacrifice. It’s part of every single good storyline, every memorable romance.” She laughed, nudging his foot with her own. “And I suppose life is never the same after meeting anyone but especially a soul mate. Someone the stars bound to you. The cosmos and the moon, powerful things they are.” She didn’t know just how correct that was. “I’d still want to be with them, yeah. Any relationship takes work and adjustments. I think it would be more than worth it for a soul mate-”

Y/N gasped as she was interrupted by the howl of wolves off in the forest. Shivers hit her body, chills hitting her skin as the sound reverbed off the trees, the full moon in the sky seeming doubly as bright. There were trees on either side of them and her nerves shot into her stomach. It sounded so close.  Sitting up, her widened eyes met Harry’s. His body hadn’t moved, hadn’t even stiffened. Oddly, she thought he saw him relax at it. “Uh- should we go? That sounded really close, and I’m no expert but that’s probably not good.” Her nervous hand wringing was a distraction, Harry gently pulling one of them from her own grasp, urging her back down. 

“I’m not afraid. It’s okay. The wolves are misjudged. They don’t want to hurt humans.” He spoke confidently. “The humans are the ones attacking first. It’s probably different in other places but here, we respect the wolves and they leave us be.” His words were spoken as if he knew this for a fact. Y/N oddly believed him, despite knowing it was going against all logic she had. 

“Oh, alright. I always thought wolves were beautiful but I try and keep a respectable distance. You know?” She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, sitting back in her original spot as she tried to calm her heart down. The howling was moving further away, and Harry’s calmness was contagious. 

“Yes. You’re one of the smart ones. In this town, the relationship with the wildlife is different. We all respect the creatures and nature’s course.”  

“Oh!” Y/N gasped. “So that’s part of why there was a questionnaire everyone filled out while filing their documents at town hall, then. Wanting to make sure people knew that. Smart. I don’t know why people wouldn’t accept that, though. It should be like that everywhere.” Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “And do you like them, then? The wolves?” 

She didn’t think it was that funny, but the smile that grew on his face and the little burst of laughter made her own smile tilt up the corner of her mouth. The man’s dimples were on display, teeth pearly white and crinkles by his eyes. Harry was attractive- anyone could see that- but to see him light up like that because of something she said? She felt his smile deep in her core. “Well…” He laughed through another howl. “You could say that.”

[truetogaia]

Hi just wondering if you would be open to writing a headcanon with some of the male avatar characters where their female mate is insecure about her chest?

featuring: Tsu’tey, Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari.

genre: headcanons

warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, insecurities, like strong language??, quaritch is a dick because he doesn't understand but he eventually realizes!!

notes: HI OF COURSE I WILL!!! Also, If this is a request based on you, I'm so sorry you have to feel that way. You are a creation of earth herself, one of many beautiful beings wandering this planet of life. I know it might not be of much help, but you are quite literally stardust, created in a supernova explosion billions of years ago. Your skin was formed out of the cosmos, your soul is a domain of the universe and your body is the divine fortress of the galaxies and the heavenly bodies littering the sky, molded specifically for your spirit. Humanity has completely turned away from their mother and have created the concept of unbelievable beauty standards, which, by the way, do not even align with the laws of nature?? Don’t listen to social media. Think of yourself as a star, a celestial being, because that's what we all are, that is what you are. 

okay, now for the actual request!! SORRY

JAKE

Jake is absolutely obsessed with every single part of you. And sure, he is a very sexual man, always goofing around intimately, but regarding matters like these, he can be extremely serious. He loves every inch of blue skin covering your body, and adores every curve that gives shape to it. There is not one thing that he would change about you, he wouldn't dream to design you any differently if he got the chance to. So when you finally opened up about your insecurities regarding your chest, he was baffled. Never in a million years did he think you could carry these insecurities about something so indescribably perfect. 

He spent every following day trying his utmost best to make you forget those absurdities, drowning you in reassuring and loving words, making sure you knew exactly how jaw dropping you truly are. 

“y/n, listen to me.” Your gaze shifted uncomfortably around the room, not daring to meet your mates eyes. “Hey,” he gently grabbed your hands, placing them against his chest, “this heart,” you felt it thump wildly beneath your palms, “its purpose is to love you, and It serves its purpose every day, without fail. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful being this world has created, there is not a single error on your beautiful body.” 

You had him wrapped around your finger, he would do whatever was needed for you to feel as loved and beautiful as you are, and he was gonna make damn sure you knew of it.

TONOWARI

Wari could not believe his pointy ears. His main priority had always been to make sure you were completely aware of the immense love he held for you in his heart. The words that left your mouth were nonsense, and his brain was trying to puzzle it together. There was absolutely no reason for such an astonishing, ravaging person as yourself to feel that way. His heart ached as your eyes darted to the floor at his expression. His eyes told of the utter confusion he experienced, and you felt stupid. 

“I’m sorry, I know It’s stupid and all but.. I can’t help but feel this way sometimes.” You finally managed to meet his gaze, and when you locked eyes, his features immediately softened. 

“My beautiful girl, you are as ravaging as the ocean, and as heavenly as the cosmos. Your mere presence is enough to send a million men to their knees, enough to make me never want to forget a single thing regarding you. Even after death, I want every trivial, petty detail to stay with me until the end of time itself.”

Your smile makes his heart tingle slightly, a warm sensation spreading in your face. He gently cupped your jaw, lifting your face to look up at him. “Oel ngati kameie, y/n.” Your foreheads pressed together as you closed your eyes, reveling in the gentle affirmations before repeating his words back to him.

QUARITCH

Quaritch is a man who doesn’t enjoy being emotional. He isn’t emotionally available at all, physically and mentally recoiling at the mention or thought of being openly affectionate on an emotional level with someone. But when you came into his life, something switched in him. He tried his best to be at least.. somewhat open and supportive. He tries his best, I promise. 

But, when you opened up to him about your insecurities, his brain malfunctioned. He couldn't connect the dots you so desperately gave to him. The two of you were in bed when you told him, your head was propped up on his bicep as he laid on his back. His tail nervously flicked around, he was trying to come up with a solution, like the strategist that he is, but he turned up empty handed.

“Sorry, sweetie, but what the hell are you talking about?” He turned his face to you, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to make sense of your words. You twisted and squirmed uncomfortably.

“I don’t know.. S’ just that sometimes I feel like.. You know.. It's not as beautiful as you think it is.” He almost laughed at that, snorting as he tried suppressing the itching laughter. When his little fit of chuckles ended, he looked down at you again. You were frowning, lip slightly quivering as your face was turned away. He realized his mistakes, a slight panic settling over him as he shifted his body towards you and softly placed his hand on the side of your face, turning you to him again.

“I’m so sorry, bunny. I didn’t mean to make you upset, you know that.” You looked up at him, sensing a genuine apologetic aura from him. “You’re my finest, most amazing prize, pumpkin. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.” A smile spread on your face as your dear mate tried his best to comfort you. You knew he didn’t have a way with words, but him trying meant so much.

TSU’TEY

Tsu’tey is such a sweetheart when it comes to his mate. He showers them in praises and compliments, love and adoration. His heart swells with pride each time the two of you go out, reveling in the jealous looks from the other males. He knew something was off the minute you started doubting yourself. He didn’t even give you a moment to think about it.

“Yawne, is something wrong?” The two of you were sat in your shared home, nuzzled together in front of the head of the fire. You shook your head, locking your gaze on the flames eagerly licking the wood. 

“I know when you're lying.” He was right. He always knew, right from the start. Even before the lies had formed on your tongue. “I’ve noticed the way you look at yourself in your reflection.” Your head shot up at that, turning to him. “Whatever it is, stop. Yawne, you are so mesmerizing, truly. There is no better mate, I mean it.” 

You placed your head on his hard shoulder, sighing while fiddling with your hands. Tsu’tey grabbed them with his unoccupied hand, and brought them to his lap. “Tell me, ma tsawksyul, what is eating you?” 

A tiny tear almost went unnoticed by you, until tsu’tey calmly wiped it away with his thumb. You finally opened up, spilling your heart out to him. His heart twinged with the knowledge that you had felt this way all this time, and he hadn’t known. 

“My sweet girl, you are the omaticaya’s most beautiful woman. I did not mate with you just because of your amazing personality, the clan's most fierce warrior has his standard high, you know.” A giggle left your lips and it soon turned into a fit of laughter. He smiled, heart warming with each wheeze that left your lungs.