#how are we feeling going into 2025 lads?

[titles-for-tangents]

Ink drawing by Dillon Samuelson. Words are from the song Fall Down, Never Get Back Up Again by La Dispute.

[bell-swamp-fitzjames]

sometimes u just have to lean into the grandpa core and accept if u want to leave genuine comments sometimes you're gonna say things like "thanks for sharing" bc its just cool ppl share their free time with u

[oikarma]

how you get the girl | pt.2

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what is up with your ex-situationship's timing?

a/n: time to lock in and actually work on this fic LOL.

part one / part two

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liked by lando and others

yourinstagram to new beginnings

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lilyzneimer will miss having you as a neighbor </3

yourinstagram oh but lily no distance could separate us yourinstagram i'll call you so often you'll get sick of me lilyzneimer you already do yourinstagram oh. so.

hattiepiastri what happened to "catch flights not feelings"

yourinstagram in the making of this post no feelings were caught hattiepiastri but you are catching a flight yourinstagram it's for my freaking job let me BREATHE

yourfriend chef ramsey

yourinstagram ❤️ come over and i'll let you try some, they're sooo good

lando missing you in shanghai

yourinstagram you called me hours minutes ago lando wish you'd come visit yourinstagram what, are we in an established relationship? hattiepiastri OOOH CLOCKED!!

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liked by lilyzneimer and others

yourinstagram home is where the heart is

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yourfriend so much fun with you!

yourinstagram can't believe we live so close now

hattiepiastri but i'm literally in aus.

yourinstagram didn't say where my home was, read the caption again hattiepiastri sorry queen ☹️

lando but that's not where mine is?

yourinstagram lando have you been listening to ts recently lando maybe yourinstagram didn't peg you for a lover boy @/oscarpiastri come here lilyzneimer don't make fun of his music taste yourinstagram who, oscar's? don't you worry, i was just sharing information so oscar could bully lando oscarpiastri Thanks, mate. yourinstagram good lad! lando ...

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deuxmoi Well, what do we think?

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user1 cheating already? gah. men.

user2 well maybe kylie's had a change of mind we never know. might be an inside joke or something

user3 she VEHEMENTLY hates green user4 wow fancy vocab user2 i'm just saying, maybe there's another meaning.

user5 are we sure its timothee

user6 ma'am this is a wendy's

user7 where even was he

user8 he posted his poker night at chateau marmont then dipped so no idea user9 on his story he posted a pic at an airport so prob not in LA anymore

user10 what was that girl he was hooking up with called again? swore i heard her talking in one of her tiktoks how she loved green

user11 that's crazy user12 delulu 101 user13 think her name was y/n or something just google it

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close friends only

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yourinstagram me rn

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lilyzneimer ...what now

yourinstagram TURN OFF DND AND RESPOND TO ME

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tiktok

@/chalametss timothee and kylie spotted at a concert

user1 guess it was an inside joke after all

user2 what user3 there was a rumor going around that he was buying stuff in her least favorite color user4 what even are these theories

user5 mom i don't like what i'm seeing

yourtiktok @/lilyztiktok bro this comment has been deleted

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liked by mclaren and others

lando Shanghai P4. Not the best pace today. We got off to a bad start but made what we could. Good job, Oscar.

user1 ohhh the first pic

user2 ovaries just exploded

user3 lando norizz who? he looks at me like that and i drop dead

user4 You got it mate

oscarpiastri Thanks Lando!

user5 mclaren's 2025 wdc + wcc

yourinstagram congrats! wish i could've been there

lando come to suzuka? user6 @/maguiwhateverheruseris keep an eye on your man user7 she's actually really pretty...why y'all hating? user8 no one's hating?? yourinstagram i'll see

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yourinstagram insert motivating gym quote

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hattiepiastri oooh SPICY

yourinstagram 💓💋

lilyzneimer i approve of p3 wholeheartedly

yourinstagram almost forgot i had him blocked for a moment and worried that he'd see it lilyzneimer what are you worrying about?? you don't owe him anything

lando coming?

lando to suzuka? yourinstagram why'd you phrase it like that lando 😉 oscarpiastri Can you guys not. yourinstagram pop off oscar, tell him off lando 😔

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a/n: got kinda messy...

[astracora]

Drunken Confession - Sylus

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc

Warnings: Very Drunk MC, Sylus Myth Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2787

Written: 4th March 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship, with Sylus and the main MC I write for. Just the Poly Chapter to go. You know when you're writing and it doesn't go where you meant for it to go? Every damn day. Also incase anyone was wondering, the song playing over my head while MC was dancing was I Adore You by HUGEL.

Masterlist AO3

<- Caleb <-Zayne <-Xavier <- Rafayel Poly!LADs ->

Sylus hasn't long been awake, sitting at his base, working through his tablet, as the twins play a game nearby.

You'd given them your handheld to borrow, incessant that they're careful with it, and return it when they'd finished trying it out. He'd made a note to buy them one, especially when he saw them getting overly boisterous with it.

Of all the expressions on your face he wanted to see, downtrodden and heartbroken over something you treasured, was not one of them.

"Boss-man, have you heard from your hunter?"

"We wanted to ask them for new games!"

He finds himself rubbing between his eyes, sitting up in his chair, and reaching for his drink, before his hand stops. He does not hear from you frequently, if you're not worrying about what he might be up to, but he has sent you messages and received nothing in response. It is not too unusual for a short amount of time, missions take you far afield. He watches through Mephisto's eyes often, to figure out what you're up to.

To make sure you're as safe as can be with your work.

Just in case. Just in case you need his help.

He tries not to step on your toes, to involve himself where you will chafe. You're capable, strong, and driven.

He thinks about your rage and fire as you pressed a gun to his chest, snarling in his face, spittle flying.

Reckless.

The itch in his chest awakens, the sense of aggravation that he does not know. That he has no eyes on you. The image of his beloved being lost, hurt, where he cannot reach…

He lifts his phone again, opening his messages and seeks out the string of unanswered messages.

He doubts he will get much more, and if he does not, Mephisto will find you. If Mephisto cannot, he will. He has scoured planets for you, exploring Linkon and beyond is easy.

🐦‍⬛: Has my kitten lost their tongue? Or have they gotten trapped in a box, and need rescuing?

The twins look at him, then at each other, shrug and resume their game, but he can feel their focus is on him. Can feel them peeking out the side of their eyes.

He tries to ignore it, after all, he's fine. You've always been difficult.

He often finds it amusing.

Even if his phone finally going off again, comforts him.

🐈: Did you need my help for a job?

A job? He's unsure where you reached that assessment, but you've finally responded, and so he calls you.

It rings, and rings, and rings.

Then goes quiet. He feels himself frowning down at the thing.

🐈: Is everything ok?

🐦‍⬛: Pick up.

🐈: Sylus??

He doesn't respond, this time he calls again, waits. And waits. You leave it till the last ring before you answer.

The first thing he gets, is noise. Music, loud and irritating, because he can't hear you.

There's scuffling, and then it quiets down somewhat, and he can finally hear you, breathing heavily on the other end, "Sylus? What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk to you kitten, it's been too long since I've heard your voice. I worried you'd forget what I sound like."

"Why would I-" You sigh, "Did you need my help with a job? It must be urgent if you're calling me."

"I have not brought up a job, why do you keep asking?"

"Why else would you call me?" He hears a weak laugh, soft, and sad, and his heart drops.

He's told you many times he calls you because he likes to hear your voice, after all, he would not spend as much time with you if he did not enjoy being around you. That he seeks you out in every corner of the world, yearns for your voice in every moment.

How many times must he play the damned claw machine with you, sit in the kitty card cafe while you grandiose your victories, or lend his strength to you in combat, if he did not care?

"I can simply want to talk with you kitten." He attempts, but you scoff. Actually scoff at him, and he hears it, the slur in your words. "Where are you?"

"If you don't need my help, I gotta go." He tries to speak, but you cut the call. This time when he sends you a message, chasing you up, he gets nothing else.

When he calls, this time it rings once and goes to voicemail.

There's a feeling in his stomach, like if he does not find you, you'll vanish. It is a feeling with no basis, but it burns and bites nonetheless. It brings him to his feet, and he determines to find you.

There's few places in Linkon he knows you hide, you are not at home, which narrows the places down considerably, as your usual haunts are not open at night. The noise in the back of your call, had at least made the job easier. Between himself, and Mephisto, he finally finds his way to a bar where he spots the flash of white hair.

Seeing it in the distance, always makes his chest tighten, and his half heart feel fragile.

Pushing his way through crowds, it is a vision that greets him. If he were more inclined to romanticism without realism, he could almost imagine the music dimming.

You hold a glass aloft in the air, eyes closed, as you dance freely amongst other humans. Hips sway, singing aloud to music you can barely be heard over, sweat drenching your skin. Droplets run down the expanse of your throat as you tip back your head, gets caught in the fabric of your shirt, and he watches another one down your bared stomach, soaking into the fabric of your shorts.

Sylus has been parched for centuries, lost in a desert, and now stares at an oasis. How you cannot see his greed, his desire, his clawing need, he will never know.

He is not a subtle man in this.

In all his time spent with you, he has never seen you like this. Carefree, the weight of the world fallen from your shoulders, all the grief out of your hands, as you dance, and sing, as loudly as you can. Surrounded by other humans, who do not know they dance with his beloved.

A stranger's hand is placed on your hip, you do not seem to notice, caught up in the music, and there is a moment where Sylus watches, where he is unsure whether he wants to be seen by you.

Every expression he gains from you, is worn and aching. You have come into this world different, fragile and sore. Biting at the bit for a monster to fight, and he hurts to think he might be that monster. That he has no cause to assure you that he isn't.

He did not steal the person you trusted most from you, but he is not innocent. He is not good.

He cannot wash the blood off of his hands yet.

There are others whose hands aren't scarred and sullied, that have never been claws to hurt you. A small part of his soul, wonders if turning around and leaving you to be amongst those less sculpted to be violent beasts, would be better. Stronger suited to your warm heart.

Until he feels your soul in his chest again. Under the blissful, drunk, expression on your face. It aches, mourns, misses, and hurts.

Lonely…

It hurts to hear it so loudly. You are so, so lonely, even surrounded by people. No matter that you have sought out a crowd as big as you could, that you have drowned sorrows to the point of spilling, that you silenced the voices as best you could.

You still cannot escape it.

He hears it, he hears you.

He cannot leave you alone.

His feet bring him to you, a hand reaching out to steady you as you stumble forward a little, preventing the glass in your hand from falling. It splashes on his jacket, and he watches as you open your eyes, ready to apologise, before the sight of him stops you.

Your eyes widen, mismatched and sparkling. Jewels.

His treasure.

"Sy?" The nickname slips out of your mouth, and he feels it down his spine, familiarity and warmth. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you, kitten." He leans in so that he can hear you properly, the song of your voice against his cheek as he speaks against your own. Nose against your skin. There's a moment where his hunger spikes, and he wants to flick his tongue against the sweat on your skin, before he remembers where he is. Remembers you're drunk. He fights it back.

Parched.

If this is how humans feel with their desires, no wonder they are driven to madness.

"I…" You blink at him, doe-eyed and soft, stunned. He watches and he waits, for you to figure out what to say. "Hi." Is all he gets, but it's exhaled, and he watches the small quirk of your lips. The softening of your eyes. "Dance with me?"

He can only assume the liquid confidence contributes to the way you down your drink, he takes the empty glass and floats it somewhere away from you, before you extend your hand. In all the time he has adored you, he has never been offered a dance from you. He has hinted, he has desired, he has asked.

You have never asked him. Every invitation is his to extend, seeking you out while you pull away from him, like you're scared. Yet he's not sure what of. You don't seem scared of him, challenging him whenever you find him disagreeable. You are a puzzle he has not finished piecing together.

He wonders if he ever will.

He must stare at your hand too long, because you tilt your head, "I thought you liked dancing?"

"I do."

"So? You don't want to dance with me?" It's said softly, with pain sneaking its way into your voice, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you.

He doesn't know how to dance here, looking about him at people who do not follow steps he knows. That he has learned, for you. He knows how to dance in a ballroom, how to follow moves that are structured, because he has learned them. This follows a rhythm, and he cannot always hear it.

It's almost like fear… if you find him lacking, when you have finally sought him out.

"Sy-" The warmth in his chest, in his spine, in his soul. Sy. Sy. Sy. It is not a pet name, but it is familiar. It is said softly. So very softly. You take his hand, pulling him forwards. He stumbles only because he would let you lead him anywhere, and because he is too distracted by the warmth of you against his skin. Your hand moves over the front of his shirt, up to his neck, and you poke him, "Just have fun. That's all that matters."

An easy ask, when you're involved.

He is not a patient man, he thinks, but for you, he is. He will always have enough patience, enough joy, enough love for you. If only you would see it.

There are few times he loses track of time, used to a busy schedule, and a need to solve issues as soon as they arise. He does not know how long he spends with you in a bar he has no interest in, surrounded by people he cares little for, because he spends it with you in his arms. Unconcerned with the world, your scent wrapped around him, your skin against his, and your voice in his ears.

When you're finally worn out, and ready to leave, he is reluctant to lose the heat of you. Waiting for the moment he steps out of the bar, for you to pull away. Hold him at arm's length. Look at him with that gaze he cannot decipher.

He keeps his hand in yours as you leave, walking the distance to your apartment. Unwilling to leave you alone, or drive back when he feels drunk off you. The cherry wine of your soul is strong and delectable. He thanks his soul, and yours, that he is better at controlling himself than he feels.

You wobble a little as the two of you walk, keeping yourself upright using his arm, and though he offers to carry you, you shake your head. Laughing to yourself as you take careful steps, like a newborn deer.

It is minutes into the walk, along the quieter streets, that you finally speak, looking over at him, "So why did you really come?"

"I told you kitten, I wanted to see you."

You bite down on your lip, and he tugs you to a stop, to ease it from between your teeth with his thumb. Staring down at you as you look up at him. Eyes soft, wet. Hunger and desire.

He is a better dragon than a beast, he assures himself.

"No job?"

"I hardly feel you'd be useful in a fight right now, kitten."

It is the wrong thing to say, Sylus realises as you flinch, frowning, "Right, of course."

"Why do you think I need your assistance?"

"It's the only time we talk. A job, help, because you want to negotiate… or-" You bite your lip again, and he strokes over your bottom lip with his thumb this time, placing the tip of it on the fat, holding it there. If you want to bite yourself, you'll have to bite through him.

"We can talk whenever you like." He speaks, and he hopes he conveys it better. Warm, and full of the adoration he feels. His appearance can be useful, can be a curse, and when he fears you do not see past sharp eyes and features, the worst thing he can think of.

He just wants you to hear his voice, and his words.

"Whenever?" You ask, "What if I say all the time?"

"I'll answer whenever I can."

"Except when you're being a big bad crime boss?"

Sylus laughs, moving his hand to your cheek, pinching it gently, "Even then, sometimes."

He watches, and waits, as the fear eases out of your expression, as you soften again. As your soul in his chest, so very noisy, settles and eases back to wrap around his. A slumbering dragon that matches his own.

"It won't bother you?"

There's a sigh he has to bite back, because he remembers you angry and full of fire, and broken. He remembers that amidst all the strength is a soul that has been twisted against its will. He takes your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look directly into his eyes, and smoothes his thumb over your cheeks, "You are worth the time, kitten. Worth the work. Worth it all. You could never bother me, in any way I do not want. Do you understand?"

He watches the tears well, and then be fought back down, but he leans down anyway, presses a kiss to just above your eye, where you had kissed lifetimes ago. You may not remember, but he can only follow what you taught him of love. Even if it will take a while before you believe it of him.

"I understand." You nod, hand tightening on his shirt, crinkling the fabric between your fingers. "Then… come to the cafe with me tomorrow?"

He sees you step over the chasm, the flames in your mismatched gaze as you watch him carefully, fingers shaking against his chest. Like you're waiting for him to laugh, or pull away. Instead he presses your hand further against his chest, so you can feel it. The unsteady dance of your hearts, and chuckles. "Planning to lose a card game to me, my little kitten? Sounds like a plan."

You pout, sticking your tongue out at him, and then laugh. The same carefree warmth he felt when he watched you dance, except this one is shared with him, and he feels sick with the satisfaction of it.

He'll message you tomorrow, to remind you of what you promised, and as he drops you off at your apartment, stunned when you return a kiss to his cheek before rushing away from him…

Well, he'll remind you over and over if he must.

He'll move mountains so he can comfort your lonely soul, and remind it of steady warmth and unrestricted love.

Sylus will take your hand, no matter what.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with The Guardian (2025)

The actor Jonathan Bailey sits at a large table in an otherwise empty room: charcoal cable knit sweater, loose pinstripe trousers, hair neatly coiffed. He is chewing gum, sipping coffee, talking through his recent career, and a certain serendipity that has rendered him reflective. At 36, he’s fresh from his turn as likely-lad love interest Fiyero in Hollywood’s blockbuster adaptation of Wicked; as a child, seeing the stage show was a milestone for him. “I remember thinking Fiyero was such a good part.” Later this year he will star in Jurassic World Rebirth alongside Mahershala Ali and Scarlett Johansson. “I saw the original Jurassic Park with my family, aged six, at the cinema,” he says. “It was the first time we all went together to something like that. It was seminal, but so rare for us.”

And this month, Bailey will star in Richard II at the Bridge Theatre, directed by Nicholas Hytner. Bailey is its protagonist. It is another example of full-circle career moment. In 2013, he appeared on stage in Hytner’s Othello. Same playwright, same director, same city – Bailey can’t help but consider all that’s changed in the intervening years. “Back then I was too young,” he says. “I came into the rehearsal process not mature or confident enough.”

Landing the role of Cassio, one of Othello’s lieutenants, had been so important to him then. “I didn’t go to drama school,” he says, “and there was a common belief that if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be able to do classical texts, or perform in the big theatres. There are all these stories we are born into that we have to unpick. For me, one of those was how limited I felt.”

Bailey remembers the day that changed. “It was late December,” he says, “and I was walking along London’s South Bank.” He was on his way to the National Theatre to meet Hytner for a callback. “I’d worked so hard and for so many reasons it felt…” He cuts himself off, then goes on, “Working at the National was beyond my wildest dreams.”

Bailey performed the two scenes he’d prepared. Then, Hytner unexpectedly suggested a third, which Bailey hadn’t rehearsed. “I’m not very good at just reading and going,” he says. “I can’t really come up with… Anyway, I went with instincts. He offered me the job in the room. It was a defining moment in my career.”

All sorts of opportunities followed for Bailey: American Psycho at the Almeida; Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s TV debut Crashing; King Lear opposite Ian McKellen; BBC satirical sitcom W1A. He was made very famous for playing a leading Lothario in Bridgerton, the Netflix behemoth. “Now being back with Nick,” he says. “I have a much fuller and more cherished understanding of him as a human as well as a director. Getting back into a room with him now, with all that’s happening, just felt obvious.” Hytner’s praise for Bailey is just as high: “He can speak Shakespeare like it’s his first language… The stage is his element.”

It’s Wednesday lunchtime, early January, in a central London studio space. We’re meeting halfway through five weeks of Richard II rehearsals in full swing a few floors below us. He’s sitting at a large table. In front of him is a bulky script covered in yellow highlights. “It’s only half,” he says, flicking through, playful panic in his voice. “Not only that, I’ve thinned it, and taken out the scenes I’m not in, which feels very Richard II.”

It’s Bailey’s first stage production since 2022. Through Bridgerton, he has been exposed to a global audience. But theatre is where it all began. “So returning to the stage, now, just felt so right. And I don’t think I’ve changed at all, even if certain things around me have.” It has taken some adjustment, this new level of “Black Mirror-esque” notoriety that he’s experiencing. It’s why he likes the intimacy of these rehearsals, after months spent on sprawling film sets. And he’s enjoying being based in London for an extended period, close to friends and family.

Bailey is charming, handsome and self-effacing as we talk, but doesn’t seem entirely at ease. That gum chewing is fervent now; he’s fiddling with what’s in front of him. He habitually self-edits as he speaks. There’s a vagueness that, at times, feels purposeful. At regular intervals, he simply stops mid-sentence.

Take the play itself. “It’s such an incredible, searing interrogation of power, government and monarchy…” he says. “You have someone with the cast-iron right to rule, who is absolutely unfit to lead, emotionally underdeveloped… And Shakespeare wrote to be played, not published. There are so many references and nuances to what an Elizabethan audience would have understood… It’s about translating it from that, and delivering it to a modern audience, so the effect hopefully has the same vivid fervency and front-footedness especially politically and especially in this instance with monarchy and leadership.”

It sounds interesting. So where is he turning to for inspiration for his tyrannical overlord? I ask. Trump? King Charles? The Saudis?

“That’s for the viewer to see. I have very clear ideas and I hope the audience will, too…”

He won’t be drawn. I’m curious as to why. He shakes his head.

“You’ll have to come and see it.”

Later, over email, Hytner is more forthright: “The play wonders what happens when an entirely legitimate leader is set on ruining the country he leads. No good options. Submit or resist – either way you end up with chaos.”

Ahead of Wicked’s late-November release, there was a preview screening in Sydney. “It was part of this massive press tour, but for me it only lasted two weeks. The girls are incredible,” Bailey says of his co-stars Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, plugging the project for months on end. “And they’re still at it, still shining.”

In Oz, Bailey went along with one of his sisters and her two daughters in tow. It was the first time he’d sat back and watched the film properly. “I was so overwhelmed,” he says. “Even now, it makes me quite emotional. If there was the purest form of joy I had as a kid, it was singing and dancing.”

His family was based between Reading and Oxford. Bailey has three older sisters. As a child, he’d be dropped at basketball club at the local village hall. “From outside, I could see my sister’s ballet lessons through the window. I wanted to be in there with them. I’d go and wait at the back of their class in my Velcro trainers.” He enrolled. “I was obsessed and loved it. Dancing and singing felt like a vocation.”

Music also filled the family home. By the time Bailey was 10, his sisters would go out clubbing. “The next morning, they’d come back, and I’d get them, hungover, to do impressions of their different friends dancing.” It was a family affair. “We loved 90s club classics. Me, Mum, Dad and my sisters went through a phase of going into the new room – we had an extension, then called it that for 20 years – and we’d put on vinyls and dance, all of us.”

One day, he stopped. “I don’t know what happened,” he says, “for whatever reason, I didn’t confidently carry through the dancing. I got self-conscious in my teens that it was signalling something else. It just didn’t feel… I probably just knew it was better to be playing rugby than dancing. I became really self-conscious. There weren’t other dudes dancing.” One teacher called Bailey a “fairy” in front of his entire class. “In your teenage years it’s so raw. You lose your skin. And there are certain things in life,” he says, “that allow people to think they know something about you, and those assumptions mean you stop doing something you love. You curb or you police yourself. You don’t make the joke, or say the quip. You don’t stand up and advocate for yourself or your friends. And you start to slowly crumple. That’s purely on the basis of this idea of signalling. These stereotypes.”

One becomes fearful, he continues, of the immense hurt that others can cause. “Even more pain than binding yourself up slowly and creating a space of safety and refuge in your own mind or heart. That’s where it gets dangerous and people stop doing the things they’re supposed to. And how brilliant that we…” He pauses, surprised, concerned even – it seems – by how much he’s sharing. “It’s a scary time, isn’t it. On the one hand, I do think there’s such a… People are so much more open-minded about what defines masculinity now. What defines heterosexuality. What defines gender. But on the other hand, there’s a swing, obviously, towards… Anyway, that one will have to be a dot-dot-dot for you.”

It’s not that Bailey dropped performing as a child, only that things took off in a different direction. Back in ballet class, there’d been a callout from the Royal Shakespeare Company. “They needed young boys to play Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol.” He was seven years old. “My parents weren’t sure. It was so outside their world.” His mum worked in the NHS. “And Dad was a DJ, basically, in Piccadilly Circus at [70s nightclub] Snoopys.” But a child actor? “It’s a big ask, from a kid. I was really protected by them, but they gave me this opportunity.” He was cast, and continued to be through school. “It was extraordinary, really. I didn’t miss any lessons. By 13, I’d done three productions for the RSC, and a stint in the West End. All before I hit puberty.” Then came his first Shakespeare production: Prince Arthur in King John at the Barbican with the RSC. “I was 12 or 13, and that set me on another course. ‘Fuck, OK, you can also do this.’” The memories are visceral, even now: “The sickly, sweet smell of fake blood. Dry ice. All those senses. I was taken. That’s maybe where my creative juices were channelled more, over singing and dancing.”

He has worked solidly since his teenage years. Bridgerton, though, catapulted him to stardom. Afterwards, says Bailey, “I was contending with how things would change in my life.” The press introduction, a growing, global fandom, interest in his personal life and sexuality… “On one hand,” he says, “the success of Bridgerton, being able to play that role, and for who I am not to affect people’s perceptions; the love story between a man and a woman.” He pauses, again. Oh, actually.” Some nervous laughter. “It’s just, I’m cautious. I’m who I am and always will be. It’s an extraordinary thing to see and hear the word ‘gay’ next to your name all the time. It’s something I’m incredibly proud of, but it’s also not something anyone else would be defined by. So to go straight from Bridgerton, where inevitably that was talked about, to do a series like Fellow Travellers? It came along like some sort of beacon.”

Fellow Travellers, a Showtime series in which Bailey and Matt Bomer star, follows the romance between two American politicos, from the 1950s to 1980s. Production started as series one of Bridgerton started streaming. Among a predominantly queer central cast, cocooned on set, Bailey’s sexuality was entirely un-noteworthy. “All with our own experiences,” he says, “coming together. And learning about the history… The men who endured and experienced such horrendous and extraordinary things.”

Simultaneously, he was inundated with requests from charities following Bridgerton’s success. “I felt frozen by wanting to help.” The sheer scale of what was being asked and what he might do with his platform, connections and cash felt overwhelming. So, he founded the Shameless Fund. “Raising cash and erasing shame to support the global LGBTQ+ community. We’re giving grants this year. I’m so proud of it. It was all in theory. It seems so obvious and clear. We’ve raised a lot of money for initiatives that need cash and a platform. “And the thing is,” he says, “I can’t be a mouthpiece. I’m an actor.” As is clear through our conversation so far, he’s impassioned and engaged, but being outspoken doesn’t always feel comfortable. It must be challenging, I say. So many eyes and ears pointed in his direction. “The noise is turned up,” he says. “And when it’s about your family, or your identity… And nobody is going to question that headline, in a different outlet with their own agenda. That’s what’s left and it isn’t true. That’s why I’m really protective. I’ve seen something so specific about my identity be twisted. Ultimately you want peace within yourself, because the world is wild enough as it is. It’s too important now, with rights being stripped away. What’s so obviously looming…” Back to Wicked, I suggest.

“OK,” he says, relieved, “so I was doing Cock [his West End stint in Mike Bartlett’s comedy about sexual identity] and I knew a film of Wicked was happening.” In the dressing room before curtain up one night, Bailey recorded a self-tape. “As I was singing, doing a karaoke version of [Fiyero’s big number] Dancing Through Life, I got called to stage on the Tannoy. Fuck it, I just sent it.” There were some positive noises. “Then the dates didn’t look to be working out. Wicked said they couldn’t be sure about what they wanted…” Bailey made other plans. Then, out the blue, dates shifted: the part was his. The months that followed were hectic: during one stretch, while juggling Fellow Travellers, Bridgerton and Wicked, he was filming for 34 days straight.

“I’d come from set, sleep on a flight, go straight to a Bridgerton ball, then the next day be dancing with Ari and Cynthia. Everyone else for Wicked had three months of rehearsal. I had three days.” There’s a knock at the door: Bailey is being summoned back down to rehearsals. “The conclusion to that,” he says, “is Wicked happened and I’m so proud. Before I knew it I was Dancing Through Life…” Suffice to say, he’s thrilled to be.

Richard II is at the Bridge Theatre until 10 May, bridgetheatre.co.uk

Source

[ros64]

OK, here's the excerpt I mentioned yesterday. (For those who may not have read GO TELL THE BEES or don't remember, "Wounded Lady" is the name of a blue spring, high in the mountain above the Frasers' New House. We left everyone at the wedding festivities for Bobby Higgins and Silvia Hardman at the end of BEES, and this is the morning after.

[EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - well, frankly, any excerpts you read from this book will contain spoilers, but there are always a few people who don't realize that and become disgruntled (isn't that a neat word? <g>) - anyway, at the end of GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arrives suddenly at Fraser's Ridge, and tells Jamie, "Sir, I need your help." Indeed he does...]

Jamie made it as far as Wounded Lady, where he called to the dog and sat down on the big stone, more abruptly than he’d intended.

“_A Màthair Dhè_.” He sat still and breathed for a bit, his knee throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He’d escaped the house before Claire discovered that he was walking about unencumbered by splints or bandages—and without a stick, forbye. He should have brought a stick, and wished he had, but he’d been feeling feisty, impatient with infirmity.

“Aye, well, I admit it’s no as bad as bein’ crucified,” he said apologetically, addressing the Mother of God whom he’d just invoked. “Besides, it’ll be horseback for the most part, it’ll be fine,” he muttered unconvincingly to himself, and grasping the paper-white trunk of the big aspen, hauled himself to his feet, whistled to the dog, clenched his teeth, and set off up the mountain, wondering why the devil he hadn’t given Young Ian land closer to the Big House.

Occupied with the pain in his knee, he hadn’t been looking out for the lad, and was surprised to come in hail of the cabin and find Rachel alone. She _had_ been looking out for Young Ian, and for some time; that much was clear from the anxious look of her, which increased when she saw Jamie and Skennen.

“Down, beast,” she said to the puppy, who paid no attention. “Has thee met Ian on the trail?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head, slightly disquieted.

“I didna see hide nor hair of him, anywhere between New House and here, lass. Nor yet the lads,” he added, forestalling her next question. “_Sàmhchair, a cù_,” he added to Skennen, who considered whether to heed this command for half a second, and then subsided meekly, lying down at Rachel’s feet.

“Why does he not do that when I tell him to?” she demanded of Jamie. “I speak to him in what I am sure is the Gaelic, and he merely laughs at me.” Skennen widened his doggy grin, tongue lolling out as though in appreciation of the joke.

“He doesna think ye mean it,” Jamie said, giving the dog a firm look. “And he kens I do. Don’t ye, _a cù_? ” He toed the dog gently in the ribs, whereupon Skennen rolled onto his back, barked and pawed the air, tail madly wagging.

Rachel cleared her throat.

“Will thee have some buttermilk, Jamie? Or perhaps some garlic pickles?”

He was beginning to be hungry from the climb, but declined the kind offer in favor of a cup of cold water, and likewise declined Rachel’s offer of her rocking chair, lowering himself carefully onto the edge of the porch.

“Sit, lass,” he said, noticing the rush basket. “I’ll finish the peas for ye.”

She laughed, sat down, and pushed the yellow bowl toward him with her bare foot.

“How does one say, ‘like father, like son’ in the Gaelic?”

“Ye don’t, usually, but ye might say, “_coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod_”. ‘Like as twa peas in a pod.’ Have ye seen William, then?” He didn’t look up at her, but pressed the seam of the pod with his thumbnail, and scooped the peas out with a practiced flick.

“I have. He told me something of his situation—and that of...John Grey...” He caught the momentary hesitation in her voice and looked at her sharply. She raised one dark brow. “I suppose thee has come to tell me more?”

Jamie told her. Everything, after a moment’s hesitation. Rachel was well aware of William’s paternity already, and as the rest of the Ridge would shortly be similarly informed, there was nothing to hide. As to the shape of Lord John Grey’s personal circumstances…

“D’ye ken that his lordship is—” he began hesitantly.

“What is commonly known as a sodomite?” she interrupted. She’d brought out a stool and sat down upon it, by him. “Yes, or at least I supposed so. Denny told me he thought it was the case.”

“And how would your brother ken a thing like that?” Jamie asked, surprised. Granted, Denzell Hunter was a physician, but…

Rachel lifted a shoulder.

“For a time when we lived in Philadelphia, Denny had a…it sounds quite wrong to call it a friendship, because it was…well, it wasn’t.” She smiled at him. “He had an acquaintance, though, who was in the habit of visiting a nearby molly house; I imagine thee knows what that is? Of course thee does. Well, on one such occasion, the man was involved in a fight and was seriously injured—he was drunk, and lost his balance while attempting to strike another man, and fell face-first into a marble mantelpiece, breaking his nose, three toes—he’d attempted to kick his opponent, but missed and kicked a rather solid oak table, which accident is what propelled him toward the mantelpiece—and his left arm, which was broken and also rather singed and blistered, as there happened to be a fire going when he knocked himself insensible on the mantelpiece and fell into the hearth.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, indeed,” she assured him. “His…I suppose you would call them friends?”

“Aye, well, common interests…” Jamie muttered. His face felt warm.

“Indeed. His friends, then, sent for Denny, who came and re-assembled his acquaintance’s nose, set his arm and taped his toes. This so impressed all the onlookers—which included the house’s proprietor—that Denny became the _de facto_ physician for them all.”

Jamie was—against his will—fascinated.

“Did…you…?” He began, then broke off.

“I never accompanied Denny to the house,” she assured him. “But a number of the…patrons?...would call upon us, in time of need. I have met several slightly damaged sodomites. They are, on the whole, much like other men.”

“Aside from—”

“Well, yes. Hence, I gather, the danger to his lordship. I take it thee means that the man holding him is not merely physically restraining him, but also threatens his…”

“His life,” Jamie finished. His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat. “In all respects.”

She nodded, her face troubled.

“What will thee do?”

Jamie sat up and stretched his back, cautiously straightening his legs as he did so.

“Aye, that’s the question we’ve been wrestling wi’, as soon as we heard what William had to say. The first thing, o’course, is to find John Grey and get him free.”

“I fear that getting him free may be the easier part.”

“So do I, lass.”

His knee had stopped feeling as though it was being repeatedly stabbed with a pen-knife, but it was still throbbing, in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t touch it, but gave it a surreptitious glance, along with its fellow. The bad one had turned a sort of purplish-red, like a ripe plum None so bad.

“We’ve the two things, to start with,” he said. “Shipping ports and a man named Denys Randall.”

Rachel’s dark brows lifted.

“I—we, that is—know a man named Denys Randall,” she said. “Does thee think there could be two of them?”

“I don’t, ” Jamie said, startled. “but just to be sure—is the one you and Denny ken a soldier? And is he known sometimes as Denys Randall-Isaacs?"

She stared at him for a moment, her hand resting gently on her belly.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “and yes. He is and he is.”

She might have said more, but a shout from the path brought her at once to her feet.

“_Mama! Mama!_”

Jamie stood up at once, gesturing her back.

“Sit, lass, I’ll see to it.”

She gave him a quick glance and a raised brow that suggested he surely knew better.

“That’s Totis,” she said, her foot already on the top step. “Something’s wrong.

[BRANO tratto da LIBRO DIECI (Senza Titolo), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - beh, francamente, ogni estratto di questo libro conterrà spoiler, ma ci sono sempre alcune persone che non se ne rendono conto e si lamentano (non è una parola interessante? ) - comunque, alla fine di GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arriva improvvisamente a Fraser’s Ridge e dice a Jamie: “Signore, ho bisogno del suo aiuto.” E in effetti ne ha bisogno…]

Jamie arrivò fino a Wounded Lady, dove chiamò il cane e si sedette sulla grande pietra, più bruscamente di quanto avesse inteso.

“A Màthair Dhè.” Rimase seduto immobile e respirò un po’, il ginocchio che pulsava al ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Era uscito di casa prima che Claire si accorgesse che stava camminando senza stecche, fasciature o anche solo un bastone. Avrebbe dovuto portare un bastone, e avrebbe voluto averlo, ma si sentiva combattivo, impaziente di guarire.

“Beh, ammetto che non è grave come essere crocifisso,” disse con tono di scusa, rivolgendosi alla Madre di Dio che aveva appena invocato. “E poi, starò a cavallo per la maggior parte del tempo, andrà bene,” borbottò poco convinto tra sé, e afferrando il tronco bianco dell’aspen, si tirò in piedi, fischiò al cane, serrò i denti e si avviò su per la montagna, chiedendosi perché mai non avesse dato a Young Ian un appezzamento di terra più vicino alla Casa Grande.

Concentrato sul dolore al ginocchio, non aveva notato il ragazzo, e rimase sorpreso di arrivare in vista della capanna e trovare Rachel da sola. Lei stava aspettando da un po’ l’arrivo di Ian; era chiaro dall’espressione preoccupata che si fece più intensa quando vide Jamie e Skennen.

“Giù, bestia,” disse al cucciolo, che non le diede ascolto. “Hai incontrato Ian lungo il sentiero?” gli chiese.

Jamie scosse la testa, leggermente inquieto.

“Non l’ho visto, né lui né i ragazzi, tra la casa nuova e qui, ragazza.” Fece una pausa per anticipare la sua prossima domanda. “Sàmhchair, a cù,” aggiunse rivolto a Skennen, che valutò per un istante se obbedire, poi si sdraiò docilmente ai piedi di Rachel.

“Perché non fa lo stesso con me quando glielo dico?” chiese a Jamie. “Gli parlo in quella che sono sicura sia la lingua gaelica, e lui ride di me.”

Skennen allargò il suo sorriso da cane, la lingua che sporgeva come per apprezzare la battuta.

“Non pensa che tu faccia sul serio,” rispose Jamie, dando al cane uno sguardo fermo. “E sa che io lo faccio. Vero, a cù?” Lo toccò delicatamente con il piede nei fianchi, e Skennen si rotolò sulla schiena, abbaiando e scalciando l’aria con entusiasmo, la coda che batteva furiosamente.

Rachel schiarì la voce.

“Vuoi un po’ di latticello, Jamie? O forse dei cetrioli sottaceto?”

Jamie rifiutò gentilmente, preferendo un bicchiere d’acqua fresca, e declinò anche l’offerta della sedia a dondolo, sedendosi invece con cautela sul bordo del portico.

“Sediti, ragazza,” disse, notando il cesto di vimini. “Finirò io i piselli per te.”

Rachel rise, si sedette e spinse la ciotola gialla verso di lui con il piede nudo.

“Come si dice ‘tale padre, tale figlio’ in gaelico?”

“Non lo si dice spesso, ma potresti dire coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod, ‘simili a due piselli in un baccello.’ Hai visto William, allora?” Non la guardò, ma premette la cucitura del baccello con l’unghia del pollice, facendo uscire i piselli con un movimento abile.

“L’ho visto. Mi ha raccontato qualcosa della sua situazione—e di quella di…John Grey…” Colse l’esitazione momentanea nella sua voce e la guardò con attenzione. Lei sollevò un sopracciglio scuro. “Suppongo che tu sia venuto a dirmi di più?”

Jamie le raccontò tutto. Dopo un momento di esitazione. Rachel era già consapevole della paternità di William, e dato che presto tutto il resto di Fraser’s Ridge lo avrebbe saputo, non c’era nulla da nascondere. Quanto alla situazione personale di Lord John Grey…

“Sai che sua signoria è—” iniziò esitante.

“Quello che comunemente si definisce un sodomita?” lo interruppe. Aveva tirato fuori uno sgabello e vi si era seduta accanto a lui. “Sì, o almeno lo supponevo. Denny mi aveva detto che lo pensava.”

“E come farebbe tuo fratello a sapere una cosa del genere?” chiese Jamie, sorpreso. Certo, Denzell Hunter era un medico, ma…

Rachel sollevò una spalla.

“Per un periodo, quando vivevamo a Filadelfia, Denny aveva una…sembra sbagliato chiamarla un’amicizia, perché era…beh, non lo era.” Gli sorrise. “Aveva una conoscenza, però, che era solita frequentare una casa di molly; immagino che tu sappia cos’è? Certo che lo sai. Beh, in una di queste occasioni, l’uomo fu coinvolto in una rissa e rimase gravemente ferito—era ubriaco e perse l’equilibrio mentre tentava di colpire un altro uomo, cadendo con la faccia contro un camino di marmo, rompendosi il naso, tre dita dei piedi—aveva cercato di scalciare il suo avversario, ma aveva mancato il bersaglio e colpito un robusto tavolo di quercia, e quell’incidente lo aveva spinto verso il camino—e il braccio sinistro, che si era rotto ed era anche piuttosto bruciato e pieno di vesciche, dato che c’era un fuoco acceso quando perse i sensi e cadde nel focolare.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, davvero,” gli assicurò. “I suoi…suppongo li chiameresti amici?”

“Beh, interessi comuni…” Jamie mormorò. Sentiva il viso caldo.

“Esattamente. I suoi amici, dunque, mandarono a chiamare Denny, che venne e gli rimise a posto il naso, gli sistemò il braccio e gli fasciò le dita dei piedi. Questo impressionò così tanto tutti i presenti—incluso il proprietario della casa—che Denny divenne il medico de facto per tutti loro.”

Jamie era—suo malgrado—affascinato.

“E…tu…?” Cominciò, poi si fermò.

“Non ho mai accompagnato Denny nella casa,” lo rassicurò. “Ma diversi…clienti?…venivano da noi, in caso di bisogno. Ho conosciuto diversi sodomiti leggermente danneggiati. Sono, nel complesso, molto simili agli altri uomini.”

“A parte—”

“Beh, sì. Da qui, immagino, il pericolo per sua signoria. Suppongo che tu intenda dire che l’uomo che lo tiene prigioniero non si limita a trattenerlo fisicamente, ma minaccia anche…”

“La sua vita,” completò Jamie. La sua voce era roca e si schiarì la gola. “In ogni senso.”

Lei annuì, con il viso turbato.

“Che cosa pensi di fare?”

Jamie si raddrizzò e si stirò la schiena, raddrizzando cautamente le gambe.

“Già, è questa la domanda con cui ci stiamo battendo da quando abbiamo sentito quello che William aveva da dire. La prima cosa, ovviamente, è trovare John Grey e liberarlo.”

“Temo che liberarlo possa essere la parte più semplice.”

“Anche io, ragazza.”

Il ginocchio aveva smesso di sembrargli pugnalato ripetutamente con un coltellino, ma pulsava ancora, seguendo il ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Non lo toccò, ma gli diede uno sguardo furtivo, insieme all’altro ginocchio. Quello malandato era diventato una sorta di rosso violaceo, come una prugna matura. Niente di grave.

“Abbiamo due cose, per cominciare,” disse. “I porti di mare e un uomo chiamato Denys Randall.”

Le sopracciglia scure di Rachel si alzarono.

“Io—noi, cioè—conosciamo un uomo chiamato Denys Randall,” disse. “Pensi che possano essercene due?”

“Non lo penso,” rispose Jamie, sorpreso. “Ma, giusto per essere sicuri—quello che conosci tu e Denny è un soldato? Ed è noto a volte come Denys Randall-Isaacs?”

Lo fissò per un momento, con una mano posata delicatamente sul ventre.

“Sì,” disse lentamente, “e sì. È lui.”

Avrebbe forse detto di più, ma un grido proveniente dal sentiero la fece alzare in piedi di scatto.

“Mama! Mama!”

Jamie si alzò immediatamente, facendole cenno di fermarsi.

“Resta seduta, ragazza, ci penso io.”

Lei gli lanciò uno sguardo rapido e un sopracciglio alzato che suggerivano che lui sicuramente sapeva meglio.

“È Totis,” disse, già con un piede sul gradino più alto. “Qualcosa non va.”

[likealayka]

It's the season of after work bar and coffee shop chill and I'm getting one hell of a fomo ngl so I'm going to rant it off my shoulders here on hellsite dot com!

Like sorry for having strange metabolism, it comes with a side of constant horny and hair everywhere, but I'm so tired of trying to explain to different people that they shouldn't try and figure out how many drinks I need to have to be like... Unstable and slurry and unhinged or something. Bbgrl I'm those things already it's called anxiety, no need to make me throw up also 🗿

Good things are present too, thankfully - tried lots of delicious cocktails, channeling my inner Patti Lupone Joanne Company;

The bestest ever thing is rather silly - all of these gatherings are a good chance of people around me to loosen up - they keep tiredly admitting to their queer tendencies and gods, it feels so good to be able to share things irl - especially after all of the government laws treating us like we're literal t*rrorists (hate it here)

We need go develop secret museum queer handshake for 2025 lads

Anyway! Hope the end of the year is treating you all kindly, because I'm hugging each and every one of you and giving you homemade food and shoulder massage and a cooling face mask and such!

And a special thanks to all of the Patti girlies (gender neutral) for indulging my special interest and thirsting with me! It's a pleasure seeing you comment and reblog and add tags - don't hesitate to tag me in things and ask me all of your questions, mwah!

[lululawrence]

2025 TBR

I was tagged by @allwaswell16 and @haztobegood to list my 2025 books to be read! Now, I am admittedly horrible when it comes to reading published fiction these days, but these are books I've been holding onto and wanting to read actively, so I really do want to try to read them this year as I have the opportunity!

So, my girl @briannamarguerite is just one of the most beautiful writers out there, genuinely! And I started reading the Librarian of Burned Books as soon as it came out and I was LOVING IT, but then the holiday season happened that year and... it was a really bad fall for me mental health wise... and I never did pick the book back up again despite literally carrying it with me almost everywhere I go since then (the book is so ragged by now because of this, it's ridiculous). Anyway, I gifted it to my sister for Christmas last month, and she is insisting that she will read this at the same time as me, and same with the Lost Book of Bonn. That worked really well with some books last year, so I'm hoping that's just the push I needed to get back into the Librarian of Burned Books and to read the Lost Book of Bonn as well :D

So I've actually LISTENED to the audiobook of Soft Lad almost three times through now because it's a comfort book for me in that way, but the audiobook was a bit abridged. Now, I own a signed copy of it, and that along with How to Kill Your Family have been sitting at the head of my bed for over a year now, just waiting for me to pick them up. So. I'm really hoping that this year is the year for both of them. I want to see what is in the printed book that wasn't in the audiobook! And Bella is a fantastically evocative writer, so I'm really excited to finally be able to delve into her fiction too.

These last two, I debated whether I should count and ultimately decided I should lololol So, the 8 volumes of the Unselected Journals of Emma M Lion by Beth Brower? I read the first seven of those books all in September last year lol like... over the course of a week and a half or two weeks. Which is obscenely fast for me these days, and they reawakened my love of printed fiction. Reminded me I can feel just as passionate about published fiction as I do about fic. I've been wanting to reread them ever since I read through them in September, especially since book 8 came out at the end of November, so I read that in December and early January haha but I do plan to read all 8 of them again this year once my sister has the last four books back to me lol And along with that, I don't have The Boxcar Librarian just yet, but I do plan to own that as well and when I do it will be on the list with the others.

So there we are. My likely incredibly unrealistic for me TBR for 2025!

And now I'm meant to tag people, but I don't even know who to tag, sooooo @laynefaire @londonfoginacup @crinkle-eyed-boo @evilovesyou @louandhazaf aaaaand @moon-sun-thyme in case you read published fiction, what's on your TBR for 2025?

[justanormaldirectioner]

🎀Your Boyfriend 🎀

synopsis: y/n and Harry are in a relationship. You and Harry were supposed to go to the bar together, when his flight was delayed due to weather, and forgot to press send when he was about to text you. So y/n went to the bar alone.

warnings: idk honestly, just read if you want :) nobody cares about the warning a anyways :) if you can read, then read.

This transcripts a text message with y/n and Harry

🖤 y/n Love 🖤 online

March 24th, 2025

Harry: Hi love, I’ve booked us a reservation remember?

y/n: Yeah! Can’t wait to see you ♥️

Harry: I was wondering if we could meet at the bar instead?

y/n: Sure! But why?

Harry: We’ll I wanted a drink after all the tours and stuff, and I finally get to see you irl after so long love ❤️

y/n: haha yeah! Ok i’ll meet you there at 10:00?

Harry: Yeah, perhaps 9pm? I want to spend more time with you, beautiful.

y/n: aww, ok. I’ll bring chocolates ☺️

March 25th, 2025

y/n: Can’t wait to see you tonight :)

——————————————————————————————————

😃: Hey y/n, My flight got delayed. And i wont be able to

arrive until 2:30 in the morning. I’ll see you On the 26th? (SEND)

Luv you.

——————————————————————————————————

end of transcript

-

It was 8:30 and you are in your bedroom debating on what you should wear. “if I were Harry, would i want to see me in white or pink?” Then you saw a red dress peeking out from your closet and decided to wear that instead.

you then started walking to the bar alone, without anyone, thinking Harry would be there waiting for you.

You then started texting Harry.

——————————————————————————————————

🖤 Harry Love 🖤 offline

March 25th, 2025

y/n: Can’t wait to see you tonight :)

y/n: hey! i’m walking over now, see you there.

y/n: you there?

y/n: Harry?

y/n: Oh, i get what your doing, you wanted to me a surprise when you get there! OK. Cya ❤️

——————————————————————————————————

End of transcript

-

Harry was still in the airport at Europe, dispite your excitement, you didn’t know Harry was not going to arrive. He was waiting patiently at the airport where the storm was taking place. The Wi-fi was bad, so he didn’t receive or send any messages.

Harry was sitting with the rest of the lads. Harry was feeling depressed he couldn’t spend the night with you. So he opened the chat and red the messages you and Harry and to bring up some memories.

“Shit!” Harry yelled. Niall and the rest of the lads walked over “What harry?” Zayn asked. “I forgot to press send. and y/n is probably walking over to the bar alone.” Harry said worriedly. “What if she gets in trouble. Everyone is drunk in the bar.”

“She’ll be fine” Louis said to Harry calming him down.

In the meantime, y/n was still walking over to the bar, holding a box of chocolates for Harry. you are about 10 minutes away from the bar.

-10 minutes later-

narrators POV

y/n has arrived to the bar, She looks left and right try spotting for Harry. She doesn’t see him, so she texts him.

transcripts a text conversation with harry

🖤 Harry love 🖤 offline

——

y/n: Oh, i get what your doing, you wanted to me a surprise when you get there! OK. Cya ❤️

y/n: Harry? Are you there yet? Please make it quick, I don’t like how everyone’s drunk.

y/n: Harry, don’t do this please…

y/n: I’ll wait for you inside, come quick.

y/n: I’ll wait for you till 10? i’ll go head home if i don’t see you 😔

y/n: I miss you… a lot

——————————————————————————————————

end of transcript

-

Meanwhile at the airport

“I’d like to know when the wi-fi will be back on?” Harry asked the lady in the customer service desperately.

“Sorry, that will take a while. The typhoon has blocked everything. What else can I do for you?” The lady said politely.

“Can you still make calls here? I told my girlfriend to meet me at the bar, but my flight got delayed. I scared she’ll get in trouble.” Harry said to the lady.

“yeah! We can make calls, but the connection might be weak.” The lady said while passing the wired phone to Harry. The lads all circled around giving him some company and comforting him.

*Harry calls y/n*

the transcript of the call

Harry: Y/n you there? Can you hear me?

y/n: Harry! Where are you?

Harry: I forgot to press send when telling you my flight will be delayed. There’s a huge storm here and there isn’t any connection. I could get any of your calls or texts.

y/n: (says) Oh ok… That’s fine anything else? I want to just make sure you’re coming home before tomorrow right? Also I think your breaking up. (Harry hears) Oh ok… I…want…breaking up…

Harry:(says) WHAT? I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner! I should have! Please don’t Break up with me. I love you. (Hears) …I’m sorry… tell you sooner… Break up with…you

y/n: Harry? you want to break up!? Why? What did I do? (Harry’s phone looses connection. and call ends) …Harry?…Harry?

-

End of transcript

-

What y/n does after:

y/n sniffs and starts crying. She goes inside the bar after 5 minutes and decides to go grab a drink after all that has happened. She drinks a lot, and she bumps into a man called Hector.

What Harry does after:

Harry breaks down and starts crying, he really loved y/n and thought she loved him back. his mates crowd around him and comfort him, but he’s still heartbroken.💔

-

y/n then bumps into Hector. “hey love, here alone?” Hector asked while y/n was drinking for 8th shot. “No! I’m here with someone.” y/n Yelled directly to Hector. Nobody started since most were drunk.

“Sure about that?” Hector said while slowly moving his fingers towards y/n and starts strolling her cheeks.

“You’re coming with me, red dress.” Hector demanded while smiling.

“no! Please just walk away. I’m having a hard day.” y/n said while moving slowly away from Hector. Hector then pulled his T-shirt up revealing his handgun. “You’re coming with me. What’s it going to be?” Hector threatening y/n while smiling.

y/n followed his instructions. y/n slipped his bracelet secretly before leaving with Hector, hoping harry would come if he’d notice she’s gone even though she thinks they’ve broken up, y/n still has her hopes up.

at the airport

The weather in Europe had finally settled down. Harry and the boys finally went on the plane and got ready to take off. It was around 11 at the time, and Harry was in desperation to know why y/n broke up with him that easily.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it harry.” Liam said to Harry while giving him a warm hug. They were stirring together and Louis, Niall and Zayn at the back.

-

at Hectors place

y/n is meaning while ties up onto a chair, unable to move her arms.

“Why? why me out of everyone else?” y/n questioned.

“do you not know me?” Hector questioned while walking closer and closer to y/n.

“no. and i don’t plan on knowing you.”

“Harry Styles, 25. He’s your boyfriend. He’s currently on a plane with his band mates Louis, Zayn Liam and Niall, since they have just finished their tour in Europe. Y/n L/n is Harry’s Girlfriend who is currently sitting at my basement patiently waiting for her boyfriend to save her.” Hector smiled. “I’m not a nobody y/n.”

“Who are you?” y/n confused and scared at the same time.

“I’m hector Mirel, Harry’s ex’s Brother.”

“Harry has an ex?” y/n asked. Hector nodded.

on the plane

plane announcement

*Attention all passengers, we have experienced some turbulence. Please return to your seats immediately and fasten your seat belt. We will be arriving soon. Thank you for your cooperation.*

“Harry, Harry!” Liam shook Harry aggressively. “what!” Harry whispered-scream. “There’s inflight wi-fi! Quick text Y/n” Harry then grabbed out his phone without hesitation and texted y/n.

this transcripts harry and y/n text conversation

🖤 y/n love 🖤 Offline

y/n: Oh, i get what your doing, you wanted to me a surprise when you get there! OK. Cya

y/n: Harry? Are you there yet? Please make it quick, I don't like how everyone's drunk.

y/n: Harry, don't do this please...

y/n: I'll wait for you inside, come quick.

y/n: I'll wait for you till 10? i'll go head home if i don't see you

y/n: 1 miss you... a lot

Harry: y/n! I’m so sorry. Let me explain everything. Please. Don’t break up with me… Reply as soon as you can. I love you 😔

Harry: Also I tried texting you, A LOT! but the wi-fi has broken up at the airport in Europe due to bad weather conditions. Please understand… I would have told you sooner.

Harry: y/n?

Harry: Please answer, I’ll be back soon.

——————————————————————————————————

end of transcript

-

“She’s not answering to any of my texts… help be Liam…” Harry pleaded. “She’s probably just asleep. It’s 12 already. Don’t worry too much.” Liam told harry while he was half asleep.

2:00 morning

Harry’s flight has landed, and after he went through all the security check, he ran out and quickly got a cab with him and the rest of the lads. They got to Harry’s house(Harry joke) and went up to find y/n, just to notice she wasn’t there.

“y/n? where is she?” Harry yelled

Niall and Zayn then ran into the room. “She’s not upstairs either.” Zayn yelled.

Harry then started to break down in tears, thinking y/n had left him. y/n wasn’t answering Harry’s calls or texts, which left i’m worried.

*Harry’s phone rings*

this transcripts the call between Harry and Hector

Harry: *sniff* Hello? Who is this.

Hector: Harry! don’t remember me aye.

Harry: (covers the speaker of the phone) Fuck! It’s hector…

Hector: Yeah, i have ears kid.

Harry: What did you do.

Hector: really? thought you’d realise by now.

Harry: You got y/n. Give her back.

Hector: you’d think i’d give her up that easily? yeah no…

Harry: Where are you.

Hector: the bar. come find me… I dare you.

Harry: fuck. Stay where you are. Don’t move.

end of transcript

-

harry and the lads got in Harry’s car and they rushy drove over to the bar y/n went. They arrived 10 minutes later. All 5 of them went inside, but y/n was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck, Hector lied. She’s not here.” Harry said

Then Louis walked over with y/n’s bracelet. “But she was.” and I know where she might be.” said Louis.

Zayn got outside to start Harry’s car. Then they drove over to Hectors. His house was far from renovated. Assuming Hector has y/n hostage, they went in without hesitation.

“Finally, I’ve been expecting you. Harry.” Hector smirked while saying.

“where’s y/n? tell me before i beat the shit out of you.” Harry said.

“I’ll give her back, but after on a fight. You and me. 1V1 and the only rule is your boys can’t help you, or y/n is a dead girl.” Hector told Harry while moving closer to him.

“Why. I broke up with Janice for a reason Hector, I didn’t do it to hurt her, but she was a maniac! A literal maniac. So fine, I’ll fight you. But for y/n’s sake. And If i win, You’ll stay away from my life.” Harry yelled

“and if i win, you’ll have to go back with Janice.” Hector told Harry.

15 minutes later the fight ends

Harry and Hector were both bloody. Hector started gaining his energy back and stood up and kicked harry in the stomach. Harry then shifted his body towards his. And used his leg and tripped him down. Hector fell on the ground in pain and Harry got up and gave Hector a final kick.

"I win. Now stay away from her." Harry said, walking away from the scene.

"we'll do you want to know where she is as least?" Hector said from below the ground, head up. "She's in the basement, dumb ass."

Hector yelled.

Then the boys went to find y/n from the basement, and brought her back home. Where they explained everything.

At home

"Thanks Harry. I missed you a lot." y/n said. "Me too." Y/n and Harry hugged hard and smiled. "I'm sorry, please don't break up with me." Harry started breaking down in tears.

"But you broke up with me?" y/n said.

"i thought you did? did you not?" Harry sparked his excitement while being confused. He quickly hugged y/n and spun her around then pinning her onto the bed.

“the important thing is that you’re back, and I love you.” y/n said while giving Harry warm kisses in his neck.

"Let's leave them to it lads." Liam suggested. Harry was filled with happiness and so was y/n :)

A/N:

Just a fanfic or you and Harry together ♥️! If you liked it heart please! Also give me some ideas on future fanfics you’d want me to write:

[merinsedai]

Rooftops of London snippet 3

for @dreamlingbingo

Snippet 3/5 for my WIP: The Rooftops of London :)

Square/Prompt: D5: Accidental Marriage (plus adoptable prompt: Creature: Veela)

Title: The Rooftops of London

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: n/a

Additional Tags: Second Chance, Mary Poppins AU, yes you read that correctly, Dream is Mary Poppins, Hob is Bert, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus is Good with Kids, popping in and out of paintings, teaparties on the ceiling, Developing Relationships, potential flying of kites, Will Roderick Burgess be redeemed? Is it possible? Who knows, read on and find out, fat pigeons

Summary: In 2025, Dream awaits Death as the Kindly Ones ravage the Dreaming.

In 1910, two young boys send out an advertisement for their perfect nanny.

or, the tale of Dream attempting to Mary Poppins his way out of his 20th century nightmare

Read the first chapter on AO3 here

And snippet 1 here

And snippet 2 here

A scene from Chapter (??no idea anymore), where something has gone a bit wrong for Hob.

“Perhaps a briefing on Veela etiquette would have been helpful?” Hob hisses as he scurries along in Morpheus’s wake, glancing fearfully back behind him every few steps. Morpheus floats along serenely ahead of him, seemingly completely unconcerned by this rather unfortunate turn of events. Alex’s hand is held securely in one of his and the little boy is skipping along singing snatches of that blasted song. Randall is shuffling along behind them, sulking in the way only a pubescent boy can. Well, one who has just had his first instructive lesson on the fairer sex brutally curtailed, at least. Another time, Hob would have a lot of sympathy for the lad.  Not right now, however. 

“I did not think it necessary,” Morpheus replies, glancing behind him. Alex has begun fully swinging off his arm now, leaning precariously to the side so his free hand is able to trail through the dew-slicked purple grass, eliciting giggles of “ooh it’s sticky”. Anyone else of Morpheus’s build would have been sent staggering to the side by the virtual gymnastics going on, maybe even risking a wrenched shoulder. Morpheus just continues walking like it’s nothing. Not that Hob thinks that his… companion would ever deign to do anything so ungraceful as to stagger. Or even run… and Hob is feeling like running might be required here soon.

“Not necessary?” he gasps, quickening his steps a little to draw alongside Morpheus.

“No indeed, as a wise man of the world, I assumed you to be cognisant of the fact that one does not accept gifts from the fae.”

“Fae? You didn’t say they were fae! You said they were Veela!”

“Veelas are fae,” Morpheus continues, as if Hob should have known this very important fact, despite having never heard of a Veela until about two hours ago. “And especially never say thank you: you are now in her debt.”

“Oh come on! Her debt? She just handed me the thing! We were having a dinner party! How was I to know it was a gift! A blo–” he catches the curse before it finishes leaving his mouth. Little ears after all. “A piece of fruit!”

“More precisely: a pomegranate.”

“So?!”

Morpheus tsks and gives Hob a look out of the corner of his eye. “And here I thought you had been a student of the classics, Hob?” There is a twitch to his lips that speaks of suppressed amusement, and if Hob didn’t like him so much then he may quite happily have punched the other man for letting them get into this situation. 

“What’s a pommy-granit?” Alex sings songs, still swinging like a monkey. His hand glitters with the dew and he waves it in front of his face. “Look Morpheus, it’s so sticky, it’s not coming off!”

“A pomegranate’s a fruit, stupid,” mutters Randall sullenly. He really is put out at this hasty exit, though not nearly as put out as the Veela girl to whom Hob now seems to be betrothed, judging by the shrieking behind them that seems to be growing ever nearer. Morpheus simply looks at the boy though, and Randall blushes bright red to the roots of his hair. 

“Your brother is correct, Alex,” Morpheus says quietly to the younger boy. “But to certain societies it is both a fruit and a symbol. In this case, the pomegranate is a symbol of marriage.”

“So Hob’s getting married?” Alex asks offhandedly, still more interested in his sparkly fingers than the situation. Hob grimaces.

“I am not-” he begins hurriedly but Morpheus speaks over him.

“Oh no,” he says casually, and this time there is a definite smile on his face. One might even describe it as a highly amused smile. “Veela do not do betrothals and courtship. Hob is not getting married. He already is married.”

[starmocha]

Some of my favorite messages from 2024 💖💖💖

Gonna get real personal and weird and sappy under the cut, so here's a short version of my NYE message to everyone who sees this post:

TL;DR: Thank you so much to everyone who's ever interacted with me this year, whether it was through random asks or interacting with my stories. Many of you have been some of the better parts of my 2024, and I am happy to be a part of the LADS community we have built here. Wishing you all good health, happiness, and cheering you all on in your personal endeavors for the future. Hope you all stick around a little longer. I really like a lot of you 🥹💖

Sappy yappy time 🧍‍♀️

It's no secret that the last three years of my life has been my lowest point, especially 2023 through half of 2024 when I've been designated as the go-to person to handle simultaneously four major family crises that had robbed me essentially 1.5 years of my life. My mental health had taken a nosedive, and I was still functioning more like a zombie well into the first few months of 2024.

When I say LADS had probably saved me, it's not an exaggeration. I won't go into too much detail, but I am grateful to the community here. I've found joy in past hobbies again (mainly writing), and I have enjoyed meeting and interacting with so many of you. Many of you probably don't even know that you have contributed to helping me regain my past self again. I'm probably the happiest I've been in years. Thank you 💖💖💖

My go-to tip to new writers has always been to write for yourself. Write the stories that you want to read (and do read afterwards!), and I practice what I preach. After all, who else is gonna write Sylus getting cockblocked by Mephisto if not me 😈 or the questionable number of Sylus breeding kink fics.........

So many of you have shared with me on both tumblr and AO3 that you find my stories comforting and that you reread them often, especially on your bad days. I feel honored that I can help make your days a little brighter through my writings and my stories. These are some of the highest praises I could ever receive. I have so many stories planned for 2025, and I'm so excited to share with you all! Thank you for your continuous support 🥺🫶

And to everyone who has come to view me as a friend, an older sister figure, a comfort person/blog, a safe space, I am more than happy to accept whatever title you have given me! My blog will always be a safe space for you to share your thoughts as long as they're not harmful and/or hateful. So feel free to yap away in my ask box, share your day, brainrot with me, drop your horniest thoughts for me to wake up to (lolllll the number of times that has happened.... 😭😭😭), this is a judge-free zone and high key, I've probably posted worse things than you could ever share with me 💀👍

Thank you again for the influx of birthday wishes earlier this month. I was so shocked by how many of you thought of me that day 🥹 and thank you to the anons who checked in on me last week while I was coping with a trauma anniversary. You will never understand how touched I was by your concerns, but please accept my virtual hug 🫂🫂🫂

If you have read through all of this, sending you lots of love, wishing you good health in 2025, and however big or small your goals for 2025 are, I will be your personal cheerleader and hype you up <33333 and also

✨️✨️✨️may your blorbos always come home in 10 pulls✨️✨️✨️

I like you all. Hope you'll stick around in 2025 with me 🥹💖

[astracora]

Drunken Confession - Xavier

Characters: Xavier x gn!mc

Warnings: Very Drunk MC, Xavier's Myth Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2428

Written: 25th February 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship, with Xavier and the main MC I write for. Me giving MC bad coping mechanisms and bad grieving habits? So likely. Incredibly likely. Help. It was accidental I swear. They're so messy... I love them. (they get better)

Masterlist AO3

<- Caleb <-Zayne Rafayel -> Sylus-> Poly!LADs ->

Xavier is pleasantly asleep at his desk, when he's shaken awake by a worried Tara. He blinks himself awake, rubbing at his eyes as she peers down at him frantically. He pulls back, stunned at the way she leans into him for a moment. A grumble escapes him, but she does not seem to notice or care.

"Xavier, have you seen them? They handed in the mission report and now I can't find them anywhere?"

The drowsiness and soft embrace of slumber disappears in an instant, and he digs around for his phone. When he finds it, on the floor where he must have knocked it off earlier, he finds it quiet. You've not sent him a message, and you always let him know when you're about to head home if you're at work together.

It's become a routine to walk back to your shared apartment building, after buying some snacks from the corner shop. You wouldn't just forget. Whenever you show him what you've bought, normally some limited edition snack that looks like it will be an adventure for you both, with a mischievous smile and a dare in your eyes.

He enjoys it, even when you shared those vile pocky with him. His luck to always draw the worst one, seemed to carry on to roulette jellybeans, and mystery chocolate. Though your laugh… it almost makes the horrible taste of fish sweets worth it.

So he sends you messages.

Where are U?

Are U ready to leave?

Are U ok?

Tara is next to him, chewing on her pen lid, staring down at his phone like it'll offer answers. When it stays silent, he turns to her, "What happened?"

She shakes her head, hair falling over downcast eyes and fidgets, "We had a support mission, some kids got caught up in it, one got hurt. They had to be transported to Akso. I just got the call that they're alright, they just need some time to recover, but I can't find them."

He thinks about times he's failed to protect people, the guilt holding him down. Chains around his legs, slowing each step. He's had to forcibly break them time and time again, just to keep moving. Just to keep walking towards you. Xavier's life is you and fighting wanderers. He knows yours is just as focused on putting your life into your role as a hunter.

It wears down the soul, it always has.

"I'll go find them." He stands, he doesn't know where to start truthfully, you may have gone home, so he'll start there.

"Tell them-" Tara pauses, fidgeting, and then gives Xavier a smile he knows is meant for you, not for him, so he makes a note to inform you of it when he finds you, "they did everything right, we did everything we could."

Xavier thinks it goes without saying, of all the things he admires about you, the drive to keep being better is one of those things. When it counts, when it matters most, you do not stop, and you do not give up.

It is one thing of many, but he knows what Tara is thinking.

You're blaming yourself.

He knows how that feels. Meteor showers, and wounded heart in the catastrophe he could not hope to stop.

Guilt settles strong and heavy, and he needs your hand to help raise his own. You need his, he hopes, to raise yours.

He leaves the Association quickly, teleporting as soon as he's outside onto your balcony. Normally he'd be more conscious of your personal space, but his worry and his anxieties bite on his heels. He can't lose you, not again.

He can't lose you.

The balcony door is locked, but there are no lights on. He knocks, and hears nothing. There's a moment, where Xavier is staring at the door, debating breaking the lock, when he hears his phone go off.

Starlight.

"Wh-" He barely manages to open his mouth, when you giggle down the phone.

"Xavi, what's up?"

"Where are you?"

You're quiet for a moment, and he tries to imagine the possible answers. Spiralling into distress the longer it takes for you to respond.

"Are you ok?" He tries again, but you're still quiet.

He thinks about the times you've been uncomfortable in front of him, wavering on the edge of speaking. Mouth opening, closing, thinking and stirring. Running over and over in your head. He swallows down his words, and forces himself to still.

"Do you remember Fluffy?"

He remembers every little thing he's shared with you, everything about you, every thought and word. He will never forget a single thing, especially because you didn't remember. Instead he says, "Of course."

"I'm where we met them. If you want to join me?" It's a question, unsure and hesitant. You don't sound sad, but then it can be hard to read your feelings based on your physical and verbal interactions.

Xavier never has to think too long on time spent with you, sad, or happy, he'll fly to you at a moment's notice. "I'm coming. Wait there for me."

His ability to teleport, truly is a relief, when he appears in the garden, to see you lay down. You're staring up at the sky, a flower in your hand, pulling the petals off absently. Fluffy is chirping nearby, but mostly minding their own business.

You reach out a careful hand to pat Fluffy's head, humming to yourself, phone still resting in the other.

There's silence as he approaches you, sits down next to you, and holds himself back from reaching out, to take your hand. Instead, he watches as you turn your face to him, and smile. He feels the anxiety settle, but as he lies down to join you, he can smell it. Alcohol on your breath, faint but there.

He doesn't speak, isn't sure what to say, not for a second. There's a lot he wants to ask, or affirm. He wants to comfort you, he just can't work out where to start, so he starts with Tara. "The kid is ok." He offers.

Watches as your eyes widen, blinking and then you smile. Really smile at him. Relief colouring you. "Good. I'm glad." You turn on your side, releasing your phone, so you can pillow your head against your arm. Hair falls over your eyes, so he reaches out to push it behind your ear. Twisting a wave for a moment around his fingers, and then pulling back before he aches for the heat of your skin. "They shouldn't have to suffer for my mess up."

"You didn't mess up." He knows that, he knows it for sure. He knows it in the pride of Captain Jenna when she talks about you, he knows it from Tara's assurance, he knows it from what he sees everyday. He knows it as easily as he knows you're his beacon.

You sigh, "I should have been faster. They should never have gotten hit."

When will you learn you're just one person?

"Just a kid…" There's a flash of agony, and he thinks about the catastrophe, when he'd stepped in to protect you. The fear and pain of a child facing a creature that was too dangerous, too powerful, and too hard to understand. "No kid should have to see something like that, let alone be hurt by one." Your voice is breaking at the edges, guilt tying you down. You close your eyes to escape from him.

He moves closer, so that his arm gently touches yours, you're so close. The brush of contact makes you open your eyes, and this time he catches your gaze with his own. He hopes you hear him, "Sometimes-" He swallows, and your free hand brushes his where it rests between the two of you, "we can't do everything we want to do. Sometimes, we fail where we think we should have succeeded."

A monster in a forest, and a protocore thrown back at a man he'd learned to hate.

A body under a meteorite shower, and a protocore too late to be worth anything.

The bodies of those he was supposed to lead, driven to bestial rage and betrayal.

"You did everything you could, even if you had failed, which you didn't, you did everything you could." He takes your hand in his, squeezing it once, before going to release. You don't let him, holding onto his hand, entwining your fingers, moving closer so your breath warms his cheeks. "It's ok."

"I just want to help Xavi. It feels like everytime I can't do it right, perfectly, I'm… I'm not doing enough." Tears fill your eyes, trembling on lashes. Waiting to be given permission to fall, and you fight it, like you always do.

"I don't think it ever feels like enough." Is his honest answer. It certainly feels like no matter how many Wanderers he fights, he'll never make a dent in what leaves a scar on this world. On your home. "We just have to keep trying." Even if he's tired. Even if he aches.

Even if he feels himself struggling to stand up.

He has to keep going.

Your eyes search his face, and he hopes he's not showing his weakness to you now. So you will come to him with the fears you refuse to share, that alcohol has carried on the breeze to him now.

Whatever you find, you move closer, and on reflex he extends his arm out for your head to rest on. Arm carefully settling over your waist. You close your eyes to get comfortable in his arms. His fingers twitching with the urge to hold you even closer. Against his chest, against his heart. "Thank you, Xavi."

He doesn't respond, just hums as he rests his head next to yours.

"Maybe I should take some tips from Lumiere." You mumble against his arm, and he flinches, brows furrowing as he looks down at you. Your one eye cracks open to see him, and you laugh. Once, loudly, and then breakdown into giggles.

His mild irritation, and not so mild jealousy, eases up as he watches you relax. As the guilt sheds away, in favour of a feeling he's all too familiar with. The need to keep moving forwards.

You'll be ok, and he will too. You have each other to help move forwards, and one day you'll come to him first with your stress and strain, and not seek out relief anywhere else.

Though he certainly doesn't dislike how close you are, even though he fights back his urges like they are barely chained. "I'll come with you on missions instead." He grumbles, leaning forwards to rub your nose with his, gently.

You open your eyes properly to look at him, bright twinkling mismatched gaze that reminds him every moment what he's fighting for. Your smile is small, but your laugh is music to his ears. A comfort and a joy. "The best partner one could ever ask for." You say on an exhale, he's close enough to feel the heat off your cheeks as you say it.

He lies with you there for quite some time, resting and listening to Fluffy's song. While your eyes close, and you relax, he watches. It's rare he gets the chance, but sleep seems to evade him.

"I like it here." You speak, cracking open an eye, and he almost flushes from being caught staring at you, but you don't comment on it, simply add, "It's the first place I got to know you a little better."

His heart thumps, skips, skitters. His throat tightening. You speak about wanting to know more about him sometimes, often in frustration. When he disappears, when he doesn't share something with you. It's the times you get closest to arguing, he thinks. He wants you to know everything about him, but there's so much, and it's so heavy to carry. He's not sure he's ready to find the words.

Xavier hopes he'll be ready one day. He hopes you'll accept him regardless when that happens.

He is not one for faith. Not anymore. Not since the foundations of his belief were crumbled at the hands of his own family's cruelty.

He thinks he can believe in you though.

Your eyes close again, and he extends his hand. Wanting to touch you again, place his hand on your cheek, stroke over skin, run fingers through your hair. He wants so much, all the time, the yearning a deep pit in his stomach of so many years without you. Not lost. Never lost, when he seeks you and finds you again. He has so much to catch up on though, but he's scared to push his luck. To test your limits, and lose you.

"I want to know you better, Xavier. You're important to me." Your lips brush his arm when you turn your head, getting comfortable when the exhaustion from the day catches up with you.

He's shown you so much already, all the way in the past, and now the you in front of him, but he will show you everything. Whatever you ask, he would offer you. If you wanted him to be your knight, he would.

Important could not begin to describe how precious you are to him. Could not touch on the undeniable adoration he holds for you.

He will give you everything, he will. If you can be patient, if you can give him time. He will. He swears it. You're already asleep when he finally finds his voice again, when he feels the ache of hundreds of years subside. When he stops feeling every guilt and shade and shadow on his shoulders.

When your breathing evens, and he strokes over your cheek like he wants to. Just for a moment. The smallest fragment of time, the briefest heat of your skin. You'll move forwards tomorrow, and you'll be ready to keep fighting again. He'll watch you be strong, and he'll fight alongside you as long as he is capable of doing so.

"You're everything to me, Starlight. One day." He promises, holding you closer, so that the chill of the evening breeze will not wake you from sleep you do not find easy.

Whether you forget him tomorrow, or forget this evening. None of that matters. Your future is what he cares to protect, and he'll keep doing so, as long as he can, until he cannot fight for it anymore.

And if he gets his way, forever. At your side.

[jikookficsdiarry]

LOVES IT'S AYS DAY TOMORROW!! PARTY PARTY YEAH🤍🥹

Okay, I know I'm really late, but I just had to express my thoughts about episode 5 real quick :)

This vminkook moment right here is my HAPPINESSS!!!

Look at these adorable cutiessss!! My whole heart🥹🤍 like I just wanna put them in my pocket and protect them forever:(

So umm yeah what goes on?!! Jikook match each other's freak for sure!!

The epitome of beautiful, jiminie and kookie🤍

I remember seeing this vmin picture and instantly sending it to my best friend, she responded saying you will always be my passenger princess🥹 yes I teared up:( this moment of jiminie waking up taebear was honestly so adorable...

Sometimes I wonder how my heart is always happy and its because of jikook and their playfulness🥹🤍 we saw that wink kookieeee, it might not be in 4k but we still saw ittt!

This cuddle session...omdsss the CUTEST heartwarming moment everrrr pleasee!!🥹🤍

"Its's just a picture, why are you crying?"

This right here lads.🤍

Need I say more??

Like do you see their adorable pouts🥹🤍 the way my heart was just doing catapults throughout the epsiode sidbdjkrkf🤍

Now let's focus on this moment shall we? Personally this was my favourite moment in the whole episode! If you follow my posts I was (still am) really nervous and anxious about MS being mentioned in AYS. These past couple of years with BTS enlisting has been hard on me, the reason being I have grown up with them by myside. For someone who has had to leave and and move to different countries constantly leaving friends and family behind, I have learnt to say goodbye a little too much. To the memories, the relationships and so much more. One constant thing that remained with me and never changed was Bangtan. (Idk if im making sense but I really hope i am)

I know it's just military service and they are gonna come back, just like jin did and hobi will next month🥹 but I will never truly be able to explain the void in my chest that still persists as I eagerly wait for 2025 when they are all together. It hurts when you have to be apart from the people you love, I know exactly how it feels. So yes, I was concerned about kookie and minie not seeing each other for almost 2 years. Some might think I am exaggerating, some might understand exactly how I feel and tbh I totally understand each ones view, but when I say there 2 years have been hard it truly has been. Yes, I do get nervous and anxious when MS is bought up and this right here bought me so much ease and comfort, like I cried happy tears🥹 to know that kookie and jiminie were enlisting together and they made the same face (you really need to spend a lot of time with that person to know exactly what expression the other is going to make) and them expressly denying in a second that they would never fight, it touched my heartstrings you'll. 🥹🤍 I love these two so much🥹🤍

Also tae bear magically appearing and disappearing is beyond comprehensible to me.🤭

Sorry to get all serious, but yeah I just wanted to say that jikook always find a way to heal my heart and provide me happiness and comfort, cause I was so elated watching this epsiode it made me forget my worries honestly🤍

AND YESS LESS THAN 24 HOURS AND WE GET TO SEE OUR BUBBAS IN SAPPORO🤍🥹

Cant wait to see kookie and jiminie have the best time together🤍🥹

Are you sure?! You will always be our serotonin🤍 thank you

~ Nel🤍

[bobbie-robron]

Robron Fanfiction Recommendations (Feb-2025)

The below were recommended on the Voldemort site and 🦋 in February 2025.

He Belongs to Me (2019) 16K words, danveresque

Reunion 3.0 AU. Robert was only meant to play dead for only a few months to avoid arrest (and he was in clear soon after) but circumstances land him in a coma for THREE YEARS and coming back as Aaron is marrying… doc boring (remember AU 😂). That’s a minor issue to him. All Robert has to do is follow the honeymooners to Paris and get his husband back, right? Add in Robert having his own personal coven of dead witches to keep him mental company as well as calls with various female villagers. Soulmates are meant to be!

These scars (never go away) (2016) 3.0K words, thisissirius

A revisioning of the 16-Nov-2016 episode where the lads visit Sarah’s grave and Diane spews her disappointed bs at Robert using Sarah’s pov. Here, we have Aaron being the protective fiancé to Robert and there finally being a chat between Diane and Robert about the cutting comment… and Andy.

I’ll Be Your Gravity, You Be My Oxygen (2019) 24.5K words, lovesnarf (snarfette)

Superpowers AU. Aaron is gifted with the ability to heal people. When Aaron goes too far healing Belle from an accident, Robert arrives on the scene with energy boosting Aaron’s to the point he is fine. The two also find their powers complement and another and they themselves are drawn to each other. But it’s not smooth sailing as Robert’s concern for Aaron’s lack of self preservation when healing causes constants problems. When an event causes Aaron to overstretch his own limits, Robert comes to his rescue as always but the ramifications may not be enough for the two stubborn individuals to stay together…

Begin Again (2020) 4.8K words, Daily_Scenarios

Reunion 3.0. In a scenario many of us would have liked to happen, Sebastian’s mum perishes (how? who cares really) and Aaron receives the okay from Robert via letter to raise Sebastian which he does after getting himself together and the two become inseparable. On Aaron’s 30th birthday, he just wants a quiet day with his son but that’s not happening, he’s getting a party, a very special one, which unbeknownst to him, a certain wish is being fulfilled at long last!

The man for the job (2018) 18.3K words, montecarlos

Robert is the newly elected Prime Minister from the Labour party, having bested Pollard of a potential third term. His main focus is to pass an LGBT marriage equality bill but he also has to juggle fiancé Chrissie and their upcoming nuptials, starting an affair with one of his two security detail… Aaron… and hosting the President briefly (who tries to steal Aaron for his own detail). Things get dicier as Robert and Chrissie’s lives hit the headlines. Will Robert’s time as Prime Minister survive the chaos and what of his ‘thing’ with Aaron?

Drowning in your light (2018) 8.0K words, softlyspoken

Abuse era AU. Aaron meets Robert at a (karaoke) bar wanting to get his mind off of the trial that is taking over his life… he wants something disconnected from it all and Robert fits the bill. It doesn’t matter that Robert has a girlfriend and a life of his own, what matters is he becomes a safe haven with no feelings involved… or so he thinks. That’s when things get messy and even messier when Robert learns more about him inadvertently. The thing is… when things are dark, there’s a light that punches through it but is Aaron prepared to embrace it or lose it altogether?

This time i’m not leaving without you (2018) 3.3K words, aarobron

Alternative Valentine’s 2018 (written before the episode aired). The circumstance is a little different from what aired and the lads go a bit further than the almost kiss.

Crush (2017) 6.9K words, lullabelle_moon

Simply, Gabby gets a crush on Robert. Aaron and Liv notice and place a bet between themselves on how soon Robert will get a clue about it. It does take a while for Robert to see it himself but what will it take for it to get through to Gabby it is simply a crush and his eyes are solely for Aaron…

(We will be together) if the fates allow. (2018) 9.8K words, vicbartons

Coffee shop AU. Aaron is a coffee shop owner for the past year and, as he is working the Christmas Eve shift, comes across a customer he didn’t think he’d see again… Robert. Robert is at a crossroads on the way to see his sister and stepmum but makes a pitstop in Leeds where he runs into the man (the owner) he’s never forgotten. The two cautiously begin talking… where will it lead? NOTE THIS IS INCOMPLETE AND MISSING THE FINAL CHAPTER!

[wrestlezon]

finally caught up on the jan 15 dynamite and (most of) the jan 18 collision just in time to miss todays dynamite. heres some notes

on dynamite they played SO much footage of ospreay and omega writhing in the ring and ricochet was really drawing out his promo. idk if the latter was just him idly collecting heat but damn did it feel like they were trying to fill time

jericho's new york minute segment had him calling cash wheeler "a kneeler" and then specified he meant as if hes "kneeling to the king of new york (me) (jericho)" but we know hes calling cash a blowjob boy. if only it wasnt jericho saying this. if only it wasnt about cash wheeler ftr. i could feel some sort of emotion about this

i cant believe copeland and ftr really had a video promo where they talked about how much they are friends and they love wrestling and they love wrestling with their friends and theyre gonna have such a good time because theyre all friends and theyre wrestling together. im not even exaggerating. this is getting the sims interaction minus-minus from me lads

mjf jeff jarrett promo had me zoning it out completely because it just started with mjf saying he wanted to fuck jarretts wife and jarrett calling mjfs mom a turbo slut or whatever for what felt like an eternity but upon a rewatch (yeesh) i paid more attention to the latter half which actually contained their motivations for fighting each other, and man what the fuck, couldnt you two just skip to the important (good?) stuff instead of wasting my time talking about how all the women in the other guys' lives are whores or w/e. is that so much to ask for

not like i can sexualize jeff fucking jarrett either way but its funny to imagine mjf being so down bad for old men that hes desperate enough to go for him regardless

i did laugh at dustin rhodes appearing to give jeff jarrett a pep talk, one old man to another

yayyy samoa joe yayyyyy yippieeeee (i missed him so much)

hey i liked that video promo between undisputed kingdom and danny garcia. it reminded me of the old "road to _____" vids they used to put on youtube. do they still do those. i miss them

i wasnt going to pay much attention to the mox vs hobbs match because idgaf BUT i saw mox blade his own ear and then hobbs bit at it twice and on the second time moxley turned his head to like almost deliriously kiss hobbs on the mouth like whoa thats crazy. if only i was a fan of moxleys gimmick rn (because i am not) (every one of moxley's badguy speeches slide right through my brain without activating a single neuron)

-

i enjoyed the hangman vs christopher daniels match. that was cool. i dont subscribe to the words people say on the internet anymore but if hes gonna retire thats a cool match to end on

had a hearty lmao @ tony schiavone being like "toni can you get real rn" about her and mariah may and then just utterly failing at getting a solid response from toni storm

i love kyle o'reilly hes so entertaining in the background of these promos. also yay!! angelo parker returns! 2point0 w/ their wrestleson garcia in a trios!! (honestly i never really thought about how its 2025 and theyre still using their jericho-given names. huh)

i also REALLY enjoyed the acclaimed segment. max caster is great at being an annoying whiny delusional bitchy failguy so im glad hes just rrrrrramping that up all the way. im amused by his antics (compared to the other recent failguy development around here, ricochet, who i think is just annoying in a not-fun way).

i hope bowens can succeed on his own (somehow). i liked the dynamic of caster semi-dragging him down and you cant really be a straightman in a vacuum, so im curious to see what he ends up doing

swerve's promo is so fucking good. "now ive been, cursed, with this ability where everything that my hands touch, dies. with that being said, i plan on using it when i get my hands around your throat." hes so cool. please kill ricochet

[yamatossideboob]

ONE PIECE 1134 Spoilers!

This week's doppelgangers:

So this is a terrific colour spread as usual, but the fact it's likely a tribute to Kazuki Yao is very touching... enjoy your retirement ya old coot, you earned it 100 times over

Apparently this is Luffy doing a very old school yakuza greeting and manner of speech. Regardless its so funny to see him being so formal lmao

WE'LL PROTECT YOU FOR LIFE YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Soooooooooo we have Stella back now too 😒 not thrilled at yet another death being backed out of, but... this is a Stella from 20 years ago? maybe something interesting can be done here. I fuckin hope so.

Also this handily explains just how VP could get around while under surveillance. nice one Oda

Even more worrisome is the now-possibility of Oda backing out of Kuma's 'death'. Admittedly his is a little more ambiguous, but in the sense of whether he truly was alive when his will appeared to be shut down. I was hoping with many others to see him laid to rest in a dignified manner, but it seems Oda has other ideas.

"why are you a woman?" "who cares, I can explain later" yeah when you've transitioned publicly for long enough you really can just get like this, its so funny when no mortal danger is involved haaaaa

Maybe Kuma can be resurrected a lá Saul, but the track record is not brilliant wrt reneged deaths in this series!

MS. ANGE I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

I really do hate how Oda designs like 90% of OP women characters bc 1) its so fucking blatant, the man is beating zero allegations 2) he CAN create fun and interesting female character designs!! Look at her!!!! She's so blocky and stout I adore her!!!!!

this is such a cute building design, i love walrus school

HEY! ZORO! LEAVE THEM KIDS ALONE!!!

hi Ripleyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy you're so huge and beautiful

So this is an interesting development: we have a longstanding warrior culture now being made to embrace trade, education and peace. Could this be something that factors into the arc conflict?

AND this king was the one killed by his son Loki... the intrigue heightens

in a One Piece first, a library displays inherited will.. Ohara would be proud, if it were sapient

The look on Robin's face is incredible... it must be such an amazing feeling to see your childhood literally rescued in such a way

Literally who could be on the other end of the snail.... This is going to drive us mental. Is the nickname Shaggy an indicator of who they are? And besides, their remarks on Loki's kindness... Those positing that Loki ISN'T the villain of Elbaph might really be onto something after all. This is bananas, we need answers pronto!

Speaking of onto something... the yahoos claiming that Shanks has a twin might have been right all along it turns out lmfao. Like... its just not likely that THIS is Shanks, since he was just here his usual way. and obvs the panel recalls that infamous page from hundreds of chapters ago, with ol' Redhair visiting the Elders. The teleportation sigil indicates this is the same individual, AND he has company, but who could they be.... This is such an ominous note to finish out the year on, what a fucking cliffhanger lads.

And on that note, thats all the One Piece that will be published in 2024. It's been a wild year between finishing Egghead and starting Elbaph! Many astonishing moments and reveals and twists and turns! Some questions answered, mostly questions asked! Oda continues his big story stew, bubbling away, and before we know it, the pot will be empty, scraped clean by our spoons. We must enjoy it while it lasts, and hope and luck, we can do just that in 2025. Maybe Oda can stick to his next Jump Fest promise lol.

Til next year nakama! 💪✖️