#if I don’t think about the future it can’t get me

[solxamber]

haii can i req octotrio, malleus, and leona (all seperate!) with a reader like kokomi from genshin thats also a jellyfish? romantic or not it doesn’t matter to me ^_^ also feel free to add more characters the more the merrier :3

Leona, Octatrio, Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Rook, Rollo x Kokomi!Jellyfish!Reader

a/n; i felt pretty inspired so i added quite a few <3

Leona Kingscholar

Leona pretends he’s indifferent, but your serene and calculated demeanor throws him off.

The first time he sees your glowing form under the moonlight, he blinks twice, convinced he’s hallucinating. “Tch, what’s with the light show? Trying to blind me or something?” But secretly, he’s mesmerized.

Your habit of calmly handling disputes in the dorm (often between Ruggie and others) frustrates him. “You can’t just talk people into behaving,” he grumbles, only to watch you succeed every time.

Leona’s competitive side comes out when he learns about your strategic mind. Chess games with you become a weekly ritual, and losing to you annoys him more than he’ll admit.

Despite his gruffness, he’s deeply protective of you, especially when someone comments on your jellyfish-like features. “Say that again, and I’ll show you why you don’t mess with jellyfish.”

Sometimes, he watches you float gracefully in water, pretending he’s there for a nap. “Stop staring at me, Leona.” “Who’s staring? I’m just resting my eyes.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is immediately intrigued by your jellyfish traits and calm demeanor—after all, you’re a marine creature, and that’s his territory.

Your bioluminescence is something he secretly envies, though he’ll never admit it. “A marvelous ability,” he says while scribbling notes for future contracts.

Your strategic thinking makes you one of the few people who can keep up with him in negotiations. He offers you a job at the Lounge almost immediately, “to better utilize your talents.”

Whenever Floyd or Jade annoys him, Azul uses you as a buffer. “Perhaps you could… calm them down?” And, to his astonishment, it works. Even Floyd listens to you.

He’s absolutely fascinated by your glowing hair and jellyfish-like appendages. “Do they serve a specific function, or are they purely aesthetic?” he asks while trying not to sound overly eager.

Azul secretly finds your tranquil nature soothing. After a long day of scheming, he’ll seek your company under the guise of “strategic discussions,” but really, he just wants to hear your voice.

Jade Leech

Jade is utterly fascinated by you from the moment he meets you. Your resemblance to a jellyfish sparks his curiosity.

He constantly asks you questions about your biology, glowing abilities, and lifestyle. “Do you use your bioluminescence to lure prey, or is it purely decorative?”

Jade enjoys teasing you, especially when you’re peacefully floating in water. “You look so serene. It’s almost a shame to disturb you.” Then he splashes you.

He respects your calm and collected demeanor, but he’s determined to find out what flusters you. Watching your serene mask slip is his new favorite pastime.

If someone dares insult you, Jade’s smile grows even sharper. “I wouldn’t recommend making an enemy of a jellyfish, you know. They’re far more dangerous than they appear.”

He enjoys your company during his hikes, fascinated by how your glowing presence adds an ethereal beauty to the forest.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is absolutely obsessed with you. You’re a jellyfish, and jellyfish are cool—end of story.

He immediately nicknames you “Jelly,” much to your mild exasperation. “C’mon, Jelly! Let’s go do something fun!”

Floyd loves poking at your glowing features. “What happens if I touch this? Will it zap me?” (You have to swat his hand away repeatedly.)

Your calm nature intrigues him. “How do you stay so chill all the time? Don’t you ever wanna, like, flip out?” He sees it as a personal challenge to get you riled up.

He’s oddly protective of you. If anyone messes with you, Floyd’s mood sours instantly, and you have to calm him down before he does something drastic.

Floyd loves dragging you into the water to “swim like real jellyfish.” His playful nature contrasts hilariously with your serene floating.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus finds you absolutely enchanting. Your ethereal glow and calm presence remind him of a fairytale.

The first time he sees you glowing in the dark, he’s convinced you’re some sort of spirit. “Are you a creature of the night, summoned by the stars?” You laugh, which only confuses him more.

He adores your serene demeanor and often seeks your company when he’s feeling lonely. “You have a calming presence. It is… soothing.”

Your strategic mind impresses him. He occasionally consults you on matters of state, and your insight leaves him in awe.

Malleus is enchanted by your glowing features and bioluminescence. He often compares you to the stars and moon. “You shine as brightly as the night sky,” he says, his voice soft.

He’s protective of you, especially when others don’t understand your unique traits. “Anyone who dares mock your beauty will answer to me,” he declares, his aura dark and foreboding.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is equal parts fascinated and exasperated by your serene and dreamy nature.

He struggles to reconcile your gentle demeanor with the strict order he upholds. “You can’t just let them get away with breaking rules.” But you always seem to handle things so effortlessly, he can’t help but feel a little envious.

The first time he sees your bioluminescence, he’s stunned. “W-What are you glowing for? Is that some sort of trick?” He secretly thinks it’s mesmerizing.

Your calmness has a soothing effect on him during his temperamental moments. When you gently suggest he take a deep breath, he can’t find it in himself to argue.

Your strategic mind earns his respect, especially when you help him resolve dorm conflicts with minimal drama. He finds himself seeking your counsel more often than he’d like to admit.

He tries to deny how much your presence comforts him, but when you glow softly under the moonlight, he’s reminded of the beauty of following one’s heart.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil finds you utterly captivating, both for your glowing beauty and your ability to remain so composed under pressure.

He immediately notices your bioluminescence and praises it as “natural elegance.” He may even use it as inspiration for his next photoshoot.

Vil admires your calm demeanor but insists on refining your presentation. “Grace comes naturally to you, but you must carry it with intention.”

Your ability to remain poised even under stress makes him jealous sometimes. He spends hours perfecting himself while you seem effortlessly radiant.

The two of you often engage in long conversations about leadership and balance. He’s impressed by your thoughtful insight, though he won’t always admit it.

He pretends not to care when others praise your ethereal glow, but he can’t help but feel proud, especially when you stand by his side at events.

Rook Hunt

Rook is absolutely enchanted by your jellyfish-inspired traits and ethereal aura.

The first time he sees your bioluminescence, he dramatically declares, “Magnifique! You are a creature of the heavens, a glowing gem beneath the sea!”

Rook constantly watches you, fascinated by the way you move and speak. He calls it research, but it’s really just admiration.

Your calmness intrigues him. He frequently tests your patience with his flamboyant antics, but you never falter, much to his delight.

He adores how your strategic mind contrasts with your soft demeanor. “You are as cunning as you are serene, ma chérie méduse.”

Rook writes poems inspired by your bioluminescent glow, claiming that no words could ever truly capture your beauty.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo is conflicted about you. Your calm, composed nature intrigues him, but your glowing features remind him of magic—something he loathes.

The first time he sees you glowing, he’s visibly unsettled. “Is this some kind of magic trick? I don’t trust it.” Yet, he can’t look away.

Your tranquil demeanor softens his usual disdain. He begrudgingly admits that you’re… tolerable, though his fascination with you grows daily.

Rollo’s jealousy flares whenever others praise your ethereal beauty. “They’re only bewitched by appearances,” he mutters, trying to convince himself he’s not affected.

Your intelligence earns his respect, though he won’t openly say it. He finds himself relying on your calm judgment more than he’d like.

Despite his feelings about magic, he catches himself enjoying the way your glow lights up dark spaces. It’s almost… comforting.

Masterlist

[salty-autistic-writer]

Buck sits on a hospital bed and looks down at his bandaged hands. Mild burns. They add to the considerable amount of smoke inhalation that makes his throat feel as dry as sandpaper. At least his coughing already got better. Buck's doctor assured him he would be able to leave soon. Too bad there's no home he can return to. 

He stares at his hands and feels … numb. It happened so fast. So fast, it almost seems like a dream. But it’s real. And everything still smells like smoke.

His loft. It’s gone.

In the middle of the night, flames consumed the walls in that scary astonishing speed he’s so well familiar with. And he couldn't stop it.

So many memories. Burnt down to ash. Buried underneath rubble. Gone.

A light knock at the doorframe makes him perk up. Buck expects to see Maddie who left to get some water and a snack. Or Chimney. Or Hen. Or Bobby. But it’s neither one of them.

“Tommy?” Buck looks up, too surprised to prepare himself for the pain he feels when he actually sees Tommy. For the first time in weeks. “What … what are you doing here?”

“I … Howie called me,” Tommy says, avoiding direct eye contact.

“Of course he did,” Buck mutters, looking back down at his hands, picking at a loose thread. Chimney. The ever-hopeful matchmaker.

Tommy clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

Buck flinches. The soft tone with which those words are spoken feels like a punch to his gut.

Are you okay? 

Okay. 

Anger wells up inside Buck’s tight chest like dark ice water, rising to the surface of his mind and fading out all the sadness. Buck glares up at Tommy. “Seriously? That’s what you’re asking about? After weeks of silence. Of nothing. You dare to show up here just like that and ask if I’m okay?!”

It’s Tommy’s turn to wince, his eyes widening slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Somehow, that only makes Buck even angrier. He knows it’s true. Honest. He knows that Tommy cares. And he kind of wishes Tommy wouldn’t. But here they are. Still care about each other way too much.

Tiredness creeps into the murky combination of anger and sadness.

“It burnt,” Buck says quietly.

“What?” Tommy asks.

“My scrapbook. It burnt. All the pictures too. The pictures I put on the fridge. And now I have nothing left.” Buck can feel the tears coming. He doesn’t want them. Doesn’t want to cry in front of Tommy. “All the memories I started to collect. They’re gone.”

I used to look at them. I used to remember the time when I thought I was finally on my way to happiness.  

“It’s all gone,” Buck breathes. And then he really cries.

An ugly sob that escapes his lips. And he hates it. Hates it so much. But he has no energy left to hide.

“Evan,” Tommy says, barely audible. And even though the sadness is suffocating him, Buck has the space for a relieved sigh. Not Buck. Still Even. And it still sounds so right … How does it sound so right after all the wrong directions their path took?

The bed dips as Tommy sits down beside Buck, hesitantly putting a hand on his heaving back. “It’s not all gone,” Tommy says.

Buck wipes at his burning eyes. “It’s not?” He asks, doubtfully.

“No. I … I’ve been collecting memories too. I can share them with you. If you want them,” Tommy says.

“That would be great,” Buck admits, trying to take a deep breath through his stuffed nose with a grimace. “Because … Because they really make me happy. The memories.”

“They do?” Tommy asks, his hand still on Buck’s back, but apparently not daring to move. “Don’t they make you … angry?”

“Not really. Sometimes they make me a little sad. Because I start to think of what could have been,” Buck says. “I start to picture all the happy memories the future might have given me.”

“But you don’t know if those memories would have been happy. What if … What if that future turns out to be so painful that you end up wishing you wouldn’t have lived through it in the first place?” Tommy asks, his voice strained. “Aren’t you scared of what you can’t know?”

Buck shakes his head. “No. I can’t live like that. The future isn’t set in stone. And as long as I think the memories I want to make are worth fighting for … Things will be alright.”

We would have been alright.  

Tommy’s hand is burning him. But when it retreats, Buck almost tells him to put it back. Maybe that’s pathetic. But he can’t find the energy to care.

Tommy is silent for a long moment. He seems lost in his own thoughts, his fingers rubbing over his jean-cladded knees in rhythmic movements.

Buck glances at him. Through a blur of his lingering tears, he suddenly realizes that Tommy looks … rough. 

His edges are sharper. The lines on his face seem deeper. There are shadows under his eyes and he’s close to growing a beard. 

And maybe that’s pathetic too, but Buck suddenly wants to hope that Tommy is feeling that same ache Buck has been feeling for such a long time now. The ache that forces him to bake. To keep his hands busy and his mind empty.

He wonders. What is Tommy doing to soothe his ache?

Buck almost asks.

But before he can, Tommy gets up. He clears his throat. “Are you staying with Maddie and Howie?”

“Yeah,” Buck says quietly. “For now. I guess.”

Tommy nods. He’s chewing on his lower lip. Lingers. Seems like there’s something else he wants to say.

And the silence stretches like a rubber band. The tension is almost palpable in the room.

Finally, Tommy says, “If I would text you in a few days. Would you read it? Would you read it all?”

“I would,” Buck says, remembering the bubbles. “I promise,” he adds.

Tommy exhales shakily. “Okay. Alright. I’m truly sorry, Evan. For the loft. And for what you lost. I can't change what happened. I can’t give the past back to you. But whatever happens, whatever you do after you read what I am going to write, I will give you everything I have. So that you can start a new collection.”

“Thank you,” Buck says, his throat tightening.

Tommy nods. He starts to walk out of the room with slow heavy steps.

Before he can disappear, Buck works up the courage to say, “Tommy. Wait.”

Tommy stops, glancing back at Buck.

“Are … are you okay?” Buck asks.

Tommy’s brows furrow with surprise, but then his eyes soften. “Honestly? No. And I haven’t been in a long time. But I am finding ways to keep the hope alive,” he says. “Goodbye, Evan. Rest well.”

And then he really leaves.

Buck stares into the void and the ache is back. But the pain has a note of hope in its bite. Maybe it’s the same kind of hope Tommy was talking about. And maybe he shouldn’t allow himself to feel it. But he can’t help it.

Apparently, his heart, even though covered in the ash the night left behind, is still convinced that the future he pictured is worth fighting for.

(AO3 Link)

[dollishsz]

BATBOYS GENERAL HCS DURING DATING ── .✦

a/n: my posts are barely getting engagement so it would be nice to reblog + like + cmmt tysm! Also

I’m so tired because I don’t know what I want to do with myself when like writing because I don’t have much ideas yk, (I do have a lottt of ideas just don’t want to like spam and idk how to like execute it correctly so ya) but I’m so grateful I’m back!

(Tags: batboys general hcs + fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Compliments: Dick will compliment you constantly, but they’re the slightly extra kind. “You look like you just walked off the cover of a magazine… Or like you’re about to rob a bank with your style, and I’m here for it.”

Date Nights: Dick is a hopeless romantic mixed a romantic flirty person. He'll plan elaborate date nights that are almost too perfect. You're having a candlelit dinner on a rooftop... until a mosquito swoops by, and you both spend 20 minutes trying to catch it.

Awkwardly Adorable: Dick tries so hard to be smooth, but when it’s just the two of you, he ends up tripping over his words, saying things like “I love you… like… in a non-creepy way… I mean, I know that sounds creepy but—“, “you know dick, you could’ve just told me you loved me no need for all that extra yapping.”

Sharing Food: He can’t resist sharing his food with you but will dramatically defend his fries. “No, you can't have any. This is the last one. You’ll be fine. It’s called 'the sacrifice of love.'”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Grumpy But Cute: Jason might be brooding and grumpy on the outside, but once he gets comfortable with you, he’s a sucker for giving you the best hugs. They’re just not as soft as you expect, because, well, he’s Red Hood and that’s not very 'soft' in his book.

Love Language: He definitely has a love language of throwing sarcastic remarks at you to show affection. “I’m just saying, you look so good, I might actually let you live longer than five minutes without me.”

Meme Sharing: Jason will share the funniest memes with you, and he will laugh harder than anyone else when you send him a reaction meme. You two could spend hours going through meme after meme while ignoring his patrol responsibilities.

Late Night Conversations: He’s always the first to text at 3 am just to say, “I’m not okay. Also, I think I might’ve made pasta in the Batcave, but it’s 80% burnt and half of the 20% is missing on the ground in other words, it’s fully burnt. You in?”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Puns & Dad Jokes: Tim is the king of puns. You might be mid-sentence talking about something serious, and he’ll sneak in, “Well, that’s egg-sactly what I was thinking.”

Organizing Everything: Tim will have a notebook just for your relationship. He organizes things like "future plans," "annoying habits to change," and “how we can both pretend to be normal in public.”

Overthinking: Tim might send you long, thoughtful texts about nothing and everything, then panic and delete them. Later, you get a short text that says, “Hey, I like you. It’s cool. Let’s go save Gotham.”

Netflix & Research: On date nights, Tim is all about watching a documentary on some obscure topic. You wanted to watch a rom-com? Nope. Tim says, “Let’s learn about the history of ancient pizza ovens.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Fiercely Protective: Damian will go full boss mode in a relationship. If someone even looks at you wrong, he’s ready to challenge them to a duel. You’ve never seen someone challenge a guy at the coffee shop to a sword fight over a latte until you met him.

Literally Shakespeare: He has this bizarre habit of reciting random Shakespeare quotes when trying to express his feelings. “My love for you is like a tempest, crashing and relentless. Also, I think you forgot to add sugar in my coffee.”

Jealousy: He’ll get jealous of even the smallest things. That random guy who offered to help you with your grocery bags? Damian’s glaring at them from across the parking lot, preparing his “You’re not worthy” speech.

Tenderness: Don’t be fooled by his brooding exterior. Damian will get you flowers (in his own way) — like a very dramatic single red rose that he purchased with the least amount of emotion possible, but you know he spent an hour picking the perfect one.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Grumpy But Loyal: Bruce is that partner who takes a long time to warm up to things, but once he’s in, he’s in 100%. He’ll still be grumpy, though. If you show up in a bat-themed shirt, you’ll get a raised eyebrow and a grunt that could probably level an entire building.

Affectionate In His Own Way: Bruce will bring you your favorite coffee without asking because he’s been paying attention to your usual order for the past six months. But if you say anything about it, he’ll act like he’s annoyed. “I’m Batman. I don’t do things for people.”

Overprotective: He’ll put the Batcomputer between the two of you if he’s feeling protective, even if it’s completely unnecessary. Someone bumps into you? Bruce is already three steps ahead, tracking their life history and figuring out their deepest secrets, just in case.

Romantic, But Quiet About It: Bruce can’t show his love through words, but the way he gives you his jacket when it’s cold speaks volumes. Of course, he acts like it was an accident. “I didn’t want you to catch a cold, that’s all. I’m not a softy, don’t read into it.”

GENERAL TRAITS FOUND IN THEM ── .✦

Matching Outfits: They’ll all pretend like they’re too cool for matching outfits, but one day they’ll catch themselves accidentally twinning with you, and neither of you can ever act normal again.

In Public: They’ll all act like they don’t care if you hold their hand in public, but if anyone tries to grab your hand instead, they’ll give them a glare that could freeze a person in place.

Batman’s Turtleneck: Every Batboy secretly loves when Bruce wears his iconic black turtleneck and glasses. They all think Bruce looks like a mysterious intellectual, and they might just start commenting on it to mess with him. Bruce is too focused on Gotham to care.

[bekolxeram]

Everyone decides to be sad about Tommy spending the holidays alone today. I just want to say, I hate you all. Especially @mmso-notlikethat with this post. As payback for making me cry my way into insomnia, I wrote this on my phone instead of sleeping.

By the time he knocks on the door, Tommy still has no idea what to expect. “Wear something nice, we’re celebrating tonight,” that’s the only instruction he’s received from Evan, his boyfriend once again. Tommy can’t help but smile at the mere thought of finally allowing himself to say that name.

He has a burgundy dress shirt on with a pair of light grey slim fit pants. Simple, but elegant, hopefully properly dressed for this undisclosed commemoration. March is not known for its holidays, so what’s the occasion that calls for such festivity? They did meet last March at the cruise ship rescue, maybe that was it? Or perhaps Evan is having some sort of career advancement? They’ve been back together for just a few weeks, there’s simply not enough time for Tommy to catch up on Evan’s ever so eventful life. To that, Tommy silently mourn the time they’ve lost, due to his own cowardice.

“Hey — Hey,” Evan takes a step outside of the door to greet Tommy with a quick peck on the lips. Tommy lets the younger man drag him into the loft without much reaction, because he’s still confused by the sight in front of him: Evan in his usual navy blue button up, dark jeans and… a Christmas hat?

Inside the loft is a jumble of sparkly festive decorations. To his left, he sees “Happy Birthday Tommy”; to his right, “Merry Christmas”; and deeper into the living space, “Happy New Year”.

“Jee and Mara helped setting these up,” Evan says while taking half of a roast turkey out of the oven. “This one is from Bobby. He said half a bird is enough for the two of us, if we don’t want to suffer through leftover for the next 7 days.” He then sets the tray next to some roasted vegetables and a casserole. “The casserole is from Chimney, but I’m pretty sure it’s Maddie’s recipe. Hen got you a cake. I think she said something about being sure you would like it. We can have it for dessert. Oh, and the champagne is from…”

“Eddie, because he can’t cook.” Tommy cuts in.

“Exactly!”

“Evan, what’s going on here?”

Evan steps closer, taking both of Tommy’s hands into his own, “You told me the other day that you spent your 40th birthday alone… I only realized later that you were probably on your own for the entire holiday season, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s Day. I know it doesn’t come close to the real thing, but I was thinking maybe we could make up for a few key moments that we missed.” He dims the lights in the loft with a remote control and fiddles with something on the dining table. Suddenly, the whole room is lit up with colorful patterns and twinkling stars. “I couldn’t get any firework around here, so I borrowed this star projector from Christopher.”

“Oh… Evan,” Tommy sighs, eyes already hazy with tears.

“I’m not asking you to move in with me or to make major commitments. I’m not asking for anything in return at all. This is… a promise, from me to you. No matter what happens, what becomes of us in the future, I’ll be there when you need me, we all will.”

Evan says earnestly, with utmost conviction in his tone. The clarity in his eyes reminds Tommy of that day at the café terrace, almost a year ago. “I just want you to know, Tommy, you’re no longer alone.”

A few drops of tears escape Tommy’s eyes, but before he can respond, Evan pulls out a mistletoe from his pocket and dangles it over their heads.

“You have to kiss me now.” Evan says with a cheeky grin. Tommy waits no time to capture those smiling lips with his own, kissing him with all the love and gratitude in his heart.

“I love you, Evan. I’m so lucky to have you.” Tommy pulls him into a warm embrace.

“I love you too.” Now it’s Evan’s turn to tear up.

Tommy pulls back a little and asks, “hey, would you mind if we celebrate Valentine’s Day first?”

“Oh, you mean you’re interested in the Valentine’s Night activity?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: my gut said go full self-indulgent so I did.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Your phone lights up again. You’ve already waited too long. You can’t avoid this any longer and in that moment, avoiding Lloyd’s family is a bigger priority. You get up, thankful to be away from Lloyd’s wandering touches, and excuse yourself to take the call. You don’t miss the scathing judgment from Gwenyth, but you don’t care either. 

You go out into the hallway and try to keep your voice down. There’s enough chatter that you’re not entirely concerned. You answer and close your eyes. 

“Hi, mom--” 

“Where are you?” She demands. “You said you would be here. I’ve been waiting. Calling. Your sister too. We’re all worried--” 

“Mom, I’m sorry. I missed my flight--” 

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t put that together,” she snaps. 

“I’m sorry, mom. Really. I know—I messed up again. I really wanted to come but that was the only flight--” 

“It’s not that you couldn’t make it, it’s that you couldn’t even let me know! I’ve been in shambles, thinking the worst. I check the flights to make sure there were no crashes, I’ve been looking through news reports.” 

She starts to devolve into breathy sobs. You feel horrible. Your guilt overwhelms your self-pity. Suddenly being stuck with these rich snobs isn’t so bad. Your mother has spent half her Christmas worrying over you, and know her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she actually tore some hair out. 

“I know I should have called. I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to figure something out,” you lie, poorly since the defeat is in your voice.  

Your mother has always been your kryptonite. She’s not cruel like Gwenyth, but her disappointment is devastating and all too easy to earn. She just wants the best for you but you’ve never managed the best. 

“So you can come?” She sniffles. 

“Um, not today, but I’m looking at tomorrow.” Another frail falsehood. “I promise, I’ll let you know--” 

“Sweet pea,” Lloyd’s voice undercuts yours and you cringe. You put your finger up and turn to signal him to hush. 

“Yeah, mom, I’ll try for tomorrow and if I can’t get there--” 

“Mom?” Lloyd echoes with a smirk. 

You shake your head. 

“Who’s that?” Your mom asks. 

You grimace and glare daggers at Lloyd as he comes closer. You outstretch your arm and put your hand just below his chest.  

“Mom, it’s just--” 

Lloyd easily reaches past your resistance and swipes the phone. He puts it on speaker with a tap of his thumb as you lunge at him. He grabs your arm and forces it up. Nearly dangly you from it as you lash with the other. 

“Is this mom?” Lloyd asks brightly. 

“Um, hello? Who is this? Where’s my daughter?” 

“Mom, I’m here. Lloyd, give me the phone back--” 

“Boo, what’s going on?” She asks. 

Lloyd looks at you with a mischievous grin and mouths ‘boo?’ with a tweaked brow. You shake your head again and plead. 

“Mom, it’s nothing--” 

“I think I spoiled the surprise,” he speaks over you. “We’re going to be coming tomorrow.” 

“We?” She ekes out, you hear the worry mounting in her voice. 

“Please don’t be mad at Pixie, she was just being a good girlfriend. We stopped by my family’s house and oh boy, the snow we got up this way,” he tuts in a very convincing monologue. You’re stunned into silence at his act. He sounds like a decent person but you know better. “And you know, everything was so hectic as we tried to dig out that it just got all ahead of us.” 

“I’m sorry, who are you? Boo?” She asks desperately. 

“Mom--” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve started with that. I’m Lloyd. Her boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?” You mother breathes, “boo?” 

“Yeah, mom, er,” you wrench your hand free and smack Lloyd’s arm. “He’s um, going to come with me, so uh--” 

“I’ll be there, both of us, with bows on,” he promises. “Please, allow me to apologise from the bottom of my heart for keeping your daughter from you. You can’t blame her. It was entirely me. I am not a morning person and she can only do so much to keep me in line.” 

You grit your teeth as you squint at him. How does he sound like such a dweeb? Well, looking at him with that mustache, he kinda is one. 

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, very nice,” your mother coos, “I can let everyone else know. Oh, boo, you could’ve told us--” 

“Again, that’s on me,” Lloyd preens, “I thought it would be a nice surprise.” 

“It is, it is,” she assures. “Oh, it will be so nice to meet you. We’ve never met any of Pixie’s men.” 

“Mom,” you groan. 

“We never really thought she had any. She’s always been so focused on work, and before that, it was school--” 

“Mom,” you jab Lloyd’s ribs as he smirks bigger and bigger, then snatch the phone from him. “Promise, we’ll get there but uh... gotta go. Love you.” 

“Love you too, boo. Oh and it was nice meeting you, um--” 

“Lloyd,” he supplies and sticks out his tongue. 

“Bye.” You hit end and put your phone in your pocket.  

Your agitation peaks and you can’t help from shoving Lloyd. It barely affects him which annoys you more. God, he is such a little—big turd. 

“Why would you do that?” 

“What? I just did you a favour.” 

“A favour? You just dragged my family into this bullshit--” 

“Well, hate to break it to you, boo,” he emphasizes the last word as he grabs your hands and pulls them away from his stomach, “but they’re going to have be. We promised mine a white wedding.” 

“You are so--” 

“So...?” He prompts. 

“Urgh.” 

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy. It’s a ticket out of this place. Literally. So you just let me know where I need to book tickets and I’ll pull a few strings--” 

“Strings? You couldn’t pull these earlier?” 

“On Christmas Day? Please, even I can’t do that but the day after Christmas, my guy’s getting into the punch right now, he’ll be just tipsy enough--” 

“You are torturing me,” you accuse. 

“I really can’t deny that,” he snickers as he lets you go. “Now tell me where I’m booking these tickets too and I’ll hop right on that...” he looks you up and down and bites his lip, “as much as I’d like to hop on something else.” 

You huff, “Toronto.” 

He twitches, “Toronto? As in... Canada?” 

You nod and roll your eyes. 

“Wait, Pixie puff, you’re Canadian?” 

You tilt your head and look at him. You shrug, “what does that matter?” 

“Well, I thought you type were supposed to be nice, first of all.” 

“Just make the call,” you sneer and cross your arms. “You’ve already mangled this Christmas, may as well put it out of its misery.” 

“Why don’t you do the same for me, huh? I’m suffering, Pix. Just give it a squeeze” he gets closer. You flutter your lashes then he wiggles his hips. “These pants are killing my circulation. I told you, I don’t wear underroos.” 

“Back up before I lose it,” you warn. 

“I’m close to losing it too, baby face,” he groans. 

“Make. The. Call.” You demand. “And I’ll happily break the news to your dear sweet mother that we need to go get ready to fly out.” 

His expression sobers and he exhales heavily, “Pix,” he utters quietly, “sometimes, you’re scary. Don’t... don’t piss off mom too much. Please.” 

“Book the tickets, honey poo,” you chime in an acidic tone, “and I’ll make sure mommy’s not crying into her champagne.”  

You poke centre of his chest and bounce on your heels before you spin away. Your mother’s disappointment might be like arsenic but Gwenyth’s is the exact antidote you need. 

❄️

“I know a girl in Toronto. A few actually,” Lloyd says over the steering wheel. He’s tasked with driving back to the hotel since you imposed sobriety on him as punishment for the day. “Strange, you’re nothing like them.” 

“I don’t care,” you grumble. 

“Ugh, your wheel is too low,” he mutters as he stops at a red and tries to adjust it. You don’t respond.  

You just want to lay down. Your head is pounding from the lack of sleep and Lloyd managed to book you an early morning flight which will curtail any meaningful sleep. You close your eyes and ignore his fussing. 

Finally, he steps on the gas. “So, Canada, you grew up with those geese, huh? Explains the bite--” 

“What?” 

“I read somewhere they have teeth--” 

“Why the heck are you moaning about geese for?” 

“I hear it now. Couldn’t place it before. I thought Minnesota or somewhere but when you’re angry, you get this twang--” 

“Be quiet,” you let your head drop back again. “I’m getting a migraine.” 

“Aw, baby,” he coos. 

“Lloyd,” you growl. 

“I can make it better. I read somewhere that you can massage it better. Oh, and you know, orgasms--” 

“You read a lot of nonsense for someone who I never see reading,” you drone and prop your elbow against the door to cradle your head. 

“There’s a wealth of information on the internet when you’re not scrolling porn,” he chuckles. You let out a disgusted noise. “Don’t worry, pixie. I’m committed to this. Me and you, we’re going to get our piece of the pie and make off like bandits.

"So you let me play the loyal husband. I’ll get you all spread out and loose, I’ll rub your head and your shoulders, then my hands might wander a little bit more...” he hums. “I’ll touch the peach a bit, I just can’t help myself, but I think you’ll be ready by then.” 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you snarl. 

“Ah, come on, flying is so stressful and after the day we had, we both need that release--” 

“How many more times do I need to tell you to stop?” 

“And how many times do I need to tell you I won’t? It’s fate now, Pixie.” He clucks and slowly turns. You lift your head and look up at the hotel sign. “Hey, if you like the long game, I can go along with it. Make it hurt so good.” 

“Do you ever think of anything else?” 

“There’s a constant undercurrent that never really leaves my mind,” he shrugs as he parks. “But I’m great at multitasking.” 

You grumble and shake your head. It sends a throbbing pulse through your skull. You undo your seatbelt and drag yourself out of the car. As the door shuts, you wince. Then Lloyd’s and you feel the nausea start to crawl through your guts. The lack of sleep, the stress, the alcohol, it’s a perfect recipe for a deadly migraine. 

You do your best to push through as you make your way up to the room silently. Lloyd is not so quiet. He’s rambling about something; a shirt? You don’t know and you don’t care.  

You take out the room and enter the hotel suite. You drop the key and your purse and shed your coat. You hang it on the hook on the back of the door and tread further in. You don’t stop until you get to the bed. You ease yourself down and bury your face in the pillow. 

“Pixie,” Lloyd’s worry puts you on edge. You raise your hand and wave him off without lifting your head. “You need some Advil?” 

You shoo him again with your fingers. You popped some with your last glass of wine. You probably should’ve opted for water. 

Your alarm is set. You will have to awake before the sky shifts that slightly lighter shade of grey and try again. You know better than to trust Lloyd, but you’re putting some faith in him to get you home. 

You feel the bed dip behind you and Lloyd’s mutters and grumbles creep into your ears. You move the pillow over your head and hug it against your ear. You tune him out as you urge your mind down to the depths. In your bouts, there is no relief, but sleep can at least dull the agony. 

Your brain turns to sludge as the steady pounding evens out to a tempo. You drift into the muddy no man’s land between waking and otherwise. You’re conscious enough to feel the pain, but you're detached enough to bear it. 

Time crumbles around like sand in a glass. Your mind swirls with churning recreations of the day behind you. Most of them fractured and nonsensical. Voices without words, faces without names. 

A shiver washes through you as a tickle flutters down the back of your thighs. The cool sensation flows over your skin. You shudder and cling to that tenuous state of dissociation. A jolt forces you out of the void. 

You roll over and throw your arm out. It bounces off of Lloyd’s shoulder as your eyes slit. You yipe as you find him tugging at your pants. You kick and amplify the siren whining in your head. 

“What are you doing?” You rasp as you flail at him. 

“Relax, pixie stick, I’m just trying to help you relax. You can’t sleep in this,” he peels your pants down your legs and you swat at him again. 

You look down and find your sweater gone, only your bra to conceal your chest. You quickly hide behind folded arms. “What the hell?” 

“Damn, Pix, you never said you had a dump truck he untangles the fabric from your ankles. 

You whimper and push yourself up on your elbows, you bareness secondary to your irritation. “Get way from me.” 

“Just let me rub you down,” he begs as he runs his hands up your calves. “Promise, I’ll be a good boy. I kept my dick strapped down, baby.” 

Your eyes flit down unthinkingly. He’s in only his briefs. The rest of him is exposed; his fur-trimmed chest, his thick but firm stomach, and his muscled legs. You look him in the face and he winks. “Made you look.” 

“Stop, please,” you flick your fingers at him. 

“You got me struggling,” he begs as his hands trail further up and he kneads your thighs. “I’m hurting like prom night and you been grinding on me in a tack ballgown all night--” 

“Ew--” 

“It’ll make you feel better--” 

You catch his fingers as he traces the edges of your underwear. As you curl up, the weight of your head thunks own at the base. Urgh. 

“No--” 

“I’m just going to rub you down like a good boy. That’s it,” pushes against your hands. “You can even keep these on.” He runs his thumbs along the front of your panties. “They look fucking delicious anyway.” 

“Lloyd.” 

“Shhh,” he hushes you and shoves your hands off of his. 

Before you can stop him, he straddles you. He puts his large hands around your skull and you whine. H works his fingers into your scalp as he continues to shush you and presses his thumbs to your temples. The warmth of his tough makes you sigh. You hate that it feels good. 

“Just like this, baby,” he purrs as he keeps you pinned under him. “Just relax.” 

Your eyes roll back as you shatter to pieces. In this state, you have no strength to fight him. Besides, why should you stop him when it feels so amazing? 

[woso-story]

The Next Step

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Mapi sat on the balcony of her apartment, staring out at the Barcelona skyline. Normally, this view calmed her, but tonight, her thoughts were anything but calm. She had been with Ingrid for three wonderful years. Three years of laughter, love, and building a life together. She knew Ingrid was the one—she’d known it for a long time.

But proposing? That felt monumental. What if it was too soon? What if Ingrid wasn’t ready for marriage? The fear of rejection gnawed at her, no matter how much she tried to shake it off.

“I need advice,” Mapi muttered to herself, pulling out her phone. She fired off two messages: one to Alexia Putellas and the other to Esmee Brugts.

---

The next day, Mapi met Alexia at a cozy café near Camp Nou. Alexia, ever the team captain, got straight to the point.

“So, you’re finally doing it,” Alexia said with a grin, stirring her coffee.

Mapi sighed, leaning her elbows on the table. “I think so. I mean, I want to. I’ve wanted to for a while. But what if it’s too early? Or what if she doesn’t want to get married at all?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Mapi, you and Ingrid are soulmates. Everyone can see how much you love each other. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Mapi hesitated. “Still, what if I mess it up?”

“Keep it simple,” Alexia said. “Do it somewhere meaningful, somewhere private. You know Ingrid—she’s not about flashy gestures.”

---

Later that evening, Mapi called Esmee. The young Dutch player had become like a little sister to both her and Ingrid.

“You’re really going to propose?” Esmee asked excitedly. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mapi said, laughing nervously. “But do you think Ingrid even wants to get married?”

“Are you kidding? She adores you,” Esmee said. “And you’ve been together for three years. That’s not rushing anything.”

Mapi smiled, her confidence growing. “Okay, so where should I do it?”

Esmee thought for a moment. “You’re going on holiday to Portugal soon, right? Do it there. Somewhere beautiful and private. Maybe at the beach?”

Mapi nodded slowly. “Yeah, that could work.”

---

A week later, Mapi and Ingrid arrived in Portugal for their much-anticipated vacation. They spent their days exploring the charming streets of Lisbon and relaxing on sun-soaked beaches. Every moment felt perfect, but Mapi’s nerves grew as the day of her planned proposal approached.

On their second-to-last evening, Mapi suggested a sunset walk along a quiet stretch of beach. Ingrid happily agreed, her hand slipping into Mapi’s as they strolled along the shore.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Mapi stopped. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

“Ingrid,” she began, turning to face her girlfriend.

Ingrid tilted her head, her expression soft. “What is it?”

Mapi reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box. Dropping to one knee, she opened it to reveal a simple but elegant ring.

“I’ve known for a long time that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me better, you make me happy, and I can’t imagine a future without you. Will you marry me?”

For a moment, Ingrid was speechless, her green eyes wide with surprise. Then, tears filled her eyes as a radiant smile spread across her face.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Of course, yes!”

Mapi slipped the ring onto Ingrid’s finger, and they embraced, the sound of the waves crashing around them.

---

The next morning, Mapi posted a photo on Instagram: the two of them on the beach, their hands intertwined, with Ingrid’s new ring prominently displayed. The caption read: She said yes. My forever.

The comments section exploded almost immediately.

Fans from around the world flooded the post with congratulations, their joy palpable. The women’s football world buzzed with excitement over the engagement.

---

When Mapi and Ingrid returned to Barcelona, they were greeted by a surprise. Their teammates had organized a celebration at a local venue, complete with decorations, food, and even their parents in attendance.

Mapi’s jaw dropped when she walked in. “You guys didn’t have to do this!”

Alexia grinned, raising a glass. “Of course, we did. It’s not every day we get to celebrate a León-Engen engagement!”

The night was filled with laughter, heartfelt toasts, and plenty of dancing. Ingrid’s parents beamed with pride, while Mapi’s family embraced Ingrid as one of their own.

As the party wound down, Mapi pulled Ingrid aside. “I still can’t believe you said yes,” she said teasingly.

Ingrid laughed, wrapping her arms around Mapi. “How could I not? I love you more than anything.”

Mapi kissed her softly, her heart full. She knew this was just the beginning of the next chapter in their story—a story of love, commitment, and a future they couldn’t wait to build together.

[marigold-hills]

The Dark Wizard

preview! Wolfstar Howls Moving Castle AU a tiny little bit of the next work I’ll be working on. Posting will begin in December :) massive thanks to the groupchat for checking this over before I posted, you are the absolute best ❤️

✨✨✨

When Remus leaves his hometown, it’s not to seek his fortune, or adventure, or – gods forbid – love. He leaves because he’s a monster, and monsters do not belong in society. They belong in the Waste.

This is how it happens.

It’s May Day. The village of Hogsmead is abuzz with excitement. Revellers and drunks, lovely dressed up ladies and dapper gentlemen circling one another, for propriety's sake staying respectable distances away. The gentlemen whistling at the ladies, the ladies pretending to be aghast by the behaviour, covertly blushing and giggling.

It’s a perfect day. Sunny, warm, bright.

For Remus, it’s perfect for a different reason.

Everyone is too busy to notice their pockets getting lighter. Too buzzed to pay attention to the man dressed in ill-fitting clothes walking too close to others. A casual jostle is just this - casual. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to raise concern.

Remus has a few pilfered wallets in a hidden pocket he sewed into a stolen vest. It’s easy, this. He’s done it for years.

“My apologies,” he smiles at a man in a soldier’s garb, whose money pouch he just appropriated. This one feels good for more than one reason - the soldier was in the process of accosting a lady who did not seem pleased to be accosted. She takes the moment he gets distracted by Remus and ducks away. Remus would like to say that he makes sure to only steal from those who deserve it, but it wouldn’t be true.

Food is food, and money is money, and both are something he needs to live. Remus can’t get a job, on account of being a monster, on account of how many days he has to take out to recuperate and travel somewhere far enough to make sure he wouldn’t let himself loose on his quaint hometown of Hogsmeade. Since his parents’ passing, this is what he’s been reduced to. 

He’s tall but can make himself look unassuming, with hair once golden-auburn and now grey from the effect of too many full moons. It’s perfect for this job, being easy to look over and hard to describe. He’s young but looks old. Feels old, too, but that’s not something for people to see.

Remus makes mistakes in this work so rarely that he doesn’t notice he’s made one until it’s too late.

He’s following a well-dressed man, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The man is exceptionally pretty, with short black curls barely skimming the tops of his ears and a gait like royalty. Remus follows behind him at a stretch, slow and careful, until they round the back of a seedy, dark pub and the man turns around like he is the one who set the trap.

Green eyes like poison.

“Trailing the Wizard of the Waste, that’s brave of you,” the man says with a voice that freezes Remus midstep.

Because he knows better than that. He knows not to go for the people who are dressed overly expensive, with rich black fabrics and shining peacock plumes in their hats. He knows chances are somebody is watching over the really rich. That the possibility of a greater payoff doesn’t compare to the risk of being caught.

And yet here he is: caught.

“Or maybe simply foolish,” the Wizard says. “You don’t look a fool, but such things can be so deceiving, don’t you agree?”

The way his eyes pierce through Remus: all he can think is he knows. Somebody knows. Remus has been found out. 

He turns and runs, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Remus remembers what the townspeople did the last time someone was found out. Remembers the stench of burning flesh.

He doesn’t look back once while he flees, not even when the Wizard shouts “my regards to Sirius!”, to his retreating back. 

✨✨✨

tagging you lovely people who had previously been interested in future works - let me know if you want to be in the list for this one as well :)

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[beuxwhoyouare]

Ready to Go

I always thought I would die young. I just don’t forsee a long life ahead for me. It’s not like sad or anything I just think I’ve done all I wanted to. There’s never been like a dream job or goal I’ve ever foresaw in my future. It’s not depression or anything, if anything I think more people should be honest with themselves about being useless and just tapping out of a long life of nothingness.

See. You’ve read this long and didn’t even notice I haven’t mentioned my name. That’s because like my life, my name is equally inconsequential.

I was pondering about ways to easily tap out of life while I sat at the bus stop waiting. Eventually I got on the bus at my usual stop to take me to my usual destination when an older white man slowly waved his hand in front of my wandering gaze.

“What’s out there?” he feebly asked in a weak voice.

I’ve never been asked something on my route before. I kinda just zone out into my own mind like this and-

“Hey kid. You keep zoning out are you okay?” he interrupted my internal thought.

It’s like he knew I was talking to myself but how?

“I’m just in my own head. Sorry did you want the window seat?” I finally replied audibly.

“No. Just making sure you’re okay. Was worried you were one of those druggies or something. Whole life ahead of you and you youngins just throw it all away.”

What a presumptive thought. He really believes that young people can’t have a complex and existential inner dialogue. I think older people don’t give us enough credit. I’m complex, I think.

*hehe*

What’s he laughing at. Wait maybe he is listening to my inner dialogue? Let’s see. Lemme think of something and see how he responds. I don’t want to die, I just want to peacefully tap out of the game of existence.

Damn nothing? He isn’t going to say anything? I’m losing my mind.

“Where do you want to go in life kid?”

HE HEARD ME I KNEW IT!

“I mean let’s say you manifested it enough. Maybe I’m here to help you move on. The worst thing you can do is live a life unfulfilled. It seems like that’s how you’re living.”

“You can’t be serious…What can you do?”

“It’s not really me, more like a pact to the deities that rule existence. It’s the law of the land. Everything in this world is all about balance. Even our lives, if one aspect is out of balance it could throw the whole world out of whack.”

“So what’s out of balance? Just because I’m tired of being aimless in life? It’s not like I’m the only aimless one right?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one, but you’re the only aimless one put in my life. I have so much I wanted to do but spent too much time wasted. I wanted kids, I wanted love, I wanted it all but got sick and spent years withering away in a hospital bed.”

….why is he telling me all this? What can I do about the law of the land? If I could help him I would but he’s talking about myths and hocus pocus.

The bus made an abrupt stop next to a big park near a historical reserve in town. The old man grabbed my arm and dragged me with him off the bus, across the street to the park.

“Dude your boney arm is hurting me. I’ll follow you just let me go”

“We’re here anyway. I can feel one of the deity’s presence around us. All you have to do is say your true hearts desire out loud for it to become true. You can’t move on and I can get a chance to fix my life’s shortcomings.”

My true hearts desire? Doesn’t he get it my problem is I don’t have a desire. There’s nothing fueling me.

“That! Say that out loud.”

“I KNEW YOU COULD HEAR ME! But how?”

“Your inner dialogue was calling to me like a siren. I’m telling you I was meant to hear it. To run into you! This moment was meant to happen.”

Honestly resisting the occult is too much work anyway. I don’t know why I’m even poking and prodding into his story. What is it going to do for me in the end? He’s offering me a way out.

“I don’t have desire. I don’t have a goal. I’m not sad, I’ve lived an okay life but I’m done.”

“I want a real chance to live life. I payed my dues. Please all I ask for is a real chance.”

If felt like all the sounds of nature stopped. The sun suddenly disappeared and it felt like a spotlight appeared above us. All I could see was the old man when he disappeared in front of me. It all disappeared in front of me. Then silence. Well everything was silent from then on. My request to tap out was granted.

“Keven. I like that name, I definitely look like a Keven now. This is a good place to start I think?”

I feel bad that a young person could fall out of love with existing. There’s so much young people have to live for and he just wanted to die? I’ll live the best live for the both of us.

I’m quite the looker now too so that should probably help on the having kids and starting a family front. Although he’s a little short for my liking. You know what no I’m going to be grateful for this new life I’ve been given. There’s still some memories in my head that belong to him. I think he might be gay….well I never got to explore those things in my time but it doesn’t help the kids dream.

Whatever I think starting today I’m going to be Bi. I’m gonna search through these memories and continue working out. Seems like it has a positive impact on people’s outlook and morale. Maybe that’s where the kid went wrong. He didn’t seek ways to be happy. I’m choosing happiness and choosing to be fulfilled.

Let’s start by jerking this thick beer can growing under my shorts though…and maybe seeing if this hot couple in the gym might want a newly confident Latino twunk third.

[digitaltaesan]

── HE’S SOMETHING

in which PARK JISUNG stumbles across his girlfriends diary, finding multiple journal entries about him.

PARING: bf!jisung x gf!reader

WORDCOUNT: 664

GENRE: established relationship, fluff fluff fluff, lovesick reader

WARNINGS: short and sweet :]

NOTE: part of my series yel express :>

today is our anniversary and i can’t help but dream about our future. i hope i’m not getting too ahead of myself.

but it just seemed perfect. a life where we graduate and move in together. of course i get the ride side of everything. he doesn’t oppose, like the gentleman he is.

before jisung i felt like i wasn’t worth of love. it was hard, watching everyone around me move forward and fall in love. but i was stuck in the same spot—stuck by myself.

when he came into my life it felt like heaven. he made me laugh, made me see the true beauty in myself.

without jisung, i don’t know where i’d be.

today i find myself reflecting on the chaos of my life—love has always been an interesting one. it sneaks up on you, sometimes when you least expect it.

i remember when i first felt what I thought was love—it was overwhelming to say the least. it was like everything in my world became brighter, but also more complicated.

love has this ability to make everything feel alive, but it also has a sharp edge. the vulnerability it brings, the fear of loss, it’s almost as if i’m willingly walking into a storm. and then there’s the joy, that sense of being seen, understood, and held by another person. it makes me believe that love is worth all the highs and lows.

but then there are feelings—those subtle, silent guides that whisper to me, shaping my decisions without me even realizing.

sometimes, it’s a soft warmth that tells me everything is okay, and other times, it’s a deep ache that makes me question everything.

i’ve learned that feelings aren’t something to be ignored. they carry messages. they tell me when i’m out of alignment with myself, or when i’m not allowing myself to feel all that I need to.

sometimes, i wish i could control them better—hold back the tears when they come or stop myself from feeling so much.

but without feelings and love, i wouldn’t have stumbled into jisung. and every time i think of the moment we first met, i never regret it.

there’s something so exhilarating about the feeling that everything’s new again. it’s like i’ve stepped into a world where every moment sparkles with possibility.

ever since he came into my life, it feels like i see the world differently. it’s as if everything, even the most ordinary things, carry a new kind of magic when he’s around.

when we’re together, even the simplest moments feel full. i never thought i’d find someone who makes life feel so alive, never thought i’d find jisung.

i used to believe i could find contentment on my own, that i didn’t need anyone to change the way i experience life. but then I met him, and suddenly everything’s better.

the way he laughs, the way his eyes light up when he talks about his dreams, the way he listens when i share mine—it all feels like a dream.

i never knew life could feel this bright. he’s brought a warmth into my life that i didn’t even know was missing. everything feels lighter, more vibrant, more hopeful when he’s by my side.

it’s strange how quickly someone can come into your world and change the way you see it. i find myself looking at the future with more excitement than i ever thought possible, simply because i can’t imagine it without him.

everything feels better with him—every smile, every conversation, every shared glance. there’s a sense of peace that comes from knowing he’s there, making everything feel right.

it’s funny, because before him, i never imagined this kind of connection. i didn’t know how much of a difference it could make to have someone who just fits, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. life has a way of surprising you, and i’m thankful every day that he’s part of my surprise.

surely, definitely, he’s something

©https//www.digitaltaesan.com

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Enhypen's Ideal First Dates

Requested? Yes! Request: ‘enhypen members and their ideal first date’

Jungwon - movie night Doesn’t have to be at a theatre either. He’s perfectly content to pile up on the couch with tons of snacks and drinks and watch movies with you until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. But before that, expect some deep, conspiracy theory-esque conversations about whatever you’re watching.

Heesung - midnight drive I kind of picture this being an impromptu date. You both can’t sleep and decide to get up and go for a drive. He hands you the aux cord as soon as you get in. If it’s nice out, he rolls down the windows, but if it’s cold out, he turns on your seat warmer and blasts the heat. It’s kind of nice to just get lost, both somewhere in town and in conversation. Might not even realize it could be defined as a date until it’s nearly over. He might be dead tired tomorrow, but he will not regret it.

Jay - cooking dinner together Heavily inspired by the fact that he seems to be the unofficial chef of the group. You both pick a recipe to try. If you like cooking, he’ll be your sous chef, but absolutely doesn’t mind taking the lead if you aren’t comfortable with it. Enjoys the whole quality time thing (of course!!) but this will inspire him to cook for you as a surprise for future dates that he hopes he gets.

Jake - going on a hike He strikes me as someone that likes to be kind of outdoorsy and active. He’ll pick a nice day and then let you pick the trail and the pace. If you enjoy that sort of thing? Great! If not, don’t worry. He’ll do his best to keep it leisurely because it’s supposed to be fun. Totally not offended if you want something more relaxing next time, because he’s just relieved there’s a next time. (He just really wanted an excuse to bring Layla with him to help break the ice.)

Sunghoon - ice skating I’m sorry, but this one is so obvious and I cannot fathom it being anything else. As you both are getting to know each other and you mention you can’t really skate, he is determined to teach you. Will do his best not to show off (today, anyway). Skates backwards and holds your hands as you wobble in the beginning. Does his best to keep you on your feet but doesn’t let you get discouraged if you do slip. Is super proud when you can make laps on your own and is thrilled when you seem to really enjoy it. This will be a regular date, I fear.

Sunoo - cafe date I think he’d keep it simple and go to a cafe to hang out. It’s lowkey and easy to chat without the pressures of a more formal date such as dinner. It’s also nice because he can sometimes squeeze those into a busy schedule, even if it’s just an hour here and there. Bonus points if the cafe has an aesthetic look too it, because I think he’d appreciate that.

Niki - mini-golf He strikes me as someone that’s sort of competitive, so he’ll pick something that you guys can bicker over. It’s all playful of course, but he will not go easy on you. Might even smirk or chuckle when he tallies up how many hits it took to sink the ball, if only so you can pout or look a little angry and elbow him. Totally placating if he wins in the end, but will concede good-naturedly if you happen to win. (He might even let you but you will never know!!!)

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Backstage Story Translation - Chikage Utsuki SSR: BE.MINE ver.CHIKAGE - Part 2

requested by taruchikas, who also provided the raws for the story! thank you!

Chikage: I’m home—

Citron: How about this route?

Itaru: We’d probably avoid the traffic jams in the city like this.

Sakuya: What should we do about lunch?

Tsuzuru: How about…

Chikage: (I’ve got a bad feeling about this…)

Chikage: You look like you’re having fun.

Tsuzuru: Oh, Chikage-san. Welcome back.

Chikage: What are you all hunched over there for?

Sakuya: We’re making plans for a drive.

Citron: You will be clearing your schedule too, Chikage.

Chikage: I’m being forced into this, I see.

Itaru: Can’t do without you.

Tsuzuru: If anything, you’ll be the star of the show.

Chikage: Meaning?

Itaru: We heard from the Director that your situation prompt for the magazine is a drive date.

Chikage: Figured that’s what’s going on…

Chikage: I drive pretty often anyway, I don’t think there’s a need for me to go out of my way to prepare.

Citron: Non, non! Simply driving and driving with someone else on board are completely different!

Tsuzuru: Citron-san’s saying something that makes sense for once.

Masumi: … This is weird.

Sakuya: It was cool!

Itaru: So, if you would.

Chikage: … I got it. It's important to make some time for family, after all.

-

Izumi: There are drinks and snacks in here.

Chikage: Thanks.

Izumi: I don’t think I have any reason to worry, but please drive safely.

Chikage: Of course. Well then…

Citron: I will be in the passenger seat today.

Chikage: ? Sure…

Citron: Off we go!

-

Chikage: Let me know if you want to stop by a convenience store or something. For music—

Citron: Ah~ I’m so glad the weather is nice today, Chi-kun ♪

Chikage: Chi…

Tsuzuru: Chi-kun!?

Itaru: “Chi-kun” is crazy. I think I’m gonna die.

Citron: The weather is fire and I’m sooo geeked~★ Chi-kunnn, I’ll be counting on you to drive sa-fe-ly ♪

Sakuya: Are you playing the girlfriend…?

Itaru: And a gyaru. I think.

Tsuzuru: The slang’s a little outdated though…

Masumi: … The light is gone from Chikage’s eyes.

Chikage: …

Tsuzuru: B-But it’ll be good practice for the magazine…?

Itaru: And it’ll help with Citron’s future female roles.

Chikage: … *sigh* Alright.

Chikage: But, I don’t want to hear any complaints if my driving gets weird.

Itaru: Remind me why we're risking our life for this…

Citron: Playing the girlfriend is fun! You should all try it too.

Tsuzuru: Uhhh…

Sakuya: It’d be good to try out all kinds of situations!

Itaru: We’ll all take turns playing the girlfriend whenever we stop in a service area or convenience store, then.

Chikage: That’d be helpful in many ways.

Sakuya: We’ll do our best!

Chikage: … I think I’m going to get something to keep me awake, just in case. Can we stop by that store?

Citron: My shift ended fast!

-

Sakuya: Ummm…

Sakuya: Chi—…

Chikage: You can just call me the way you usually do, Sakuya.

Citron: Did you hate it that much?

Itaru: I’ll be remembering it and rolling on the floor, at least.

Masumi: I’m gonna be sick.

-

Tsuzuru: …

Chikage: …

Citron: He can’t practice if you don’t speak, Tsuzuru!

Itaru: ^ This. You need to say something.

Tsuzuru: U-Uhhh…

Tsuzuru: A-Aren’t you tired~?

Chikage: You don’t need to force yourself so much. Could you hand me my coffee?

Tsuzuru: ‘Kay!

Tsuzuru: Wait, I’m supposed to be helping you…!

-

Masumi: …

Chikage: …

Citron: There’s too much silence again!

Itaru: Masumi, just think of this as rehearsal with Director-san.

Masumi: With the Director…

Masumi: …

Masumi: … *sigh* I can’t. You’re too cute.

Chikage: … Just what thoughts are going through your head?

-

Itaru: Okay, lemme show you all how it’s done.

Chikage: No need to get so into this.

Itaru: Utsuki-san, should I play some music? Or are you more of a radio person?

Chikage: I suppose I prefer the radio. We can also get information about traffic jams like this.

Itaru: Me too~

Itaru: *Yawn*…

Citron: Oh, how flirty.

Itaru: No, that was for real…

Chikage: Are you sleepy? You can go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.

Itaru: I’m being put to bed.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

[delphiniumpacificguinevere]

Gosh, this is gonna be a long story… I mean really long…

Absolutely starting with T.H.White’s the once and future king. My parents were like changing working places in different countries all the time and so my siblings and I were usually went to international schools which were taught in English, u know, global language, and international schools in all countries teach in English. So back to about 7 one of my teachers (a very sweet British lady) gave me that White’s novel and I was just so into it. But then I’m started to focus on other stuffs and did not think about Arthurian for years.

The when I was like 13 or something(can’t remember lol) my family moved to the UK and my school was like spending the whole year teaching Le Morte D’ Arthur in Literature class, but what’s the most important for me is that, they adapted the book into a stage play (not a big one, just school show) and selected performers from among the students. Yes, and I have been chosen to cast Guinevere. (I still don’t know why my teacher choose me a new coming student and English is like my 3rd or 5th language, maybe just eney menny miny moe ur gonna be Guinevere in this show lol). I was under huge pressure but also very grateful for the trust so I was like “I’m gonna do this beyond just ok, come hell or high water”. I made the whole year absorbing all Arthurian sources as much as I could and I spent most of my time learning about Gwen (Obviously). I feel like I started to have a strong and deep emotion connection to the Camelot Queen and by the end of the show I felt like I wanted to cry so badly, I was so attached to Guinevere (it was really embarrassing i still can’t figure out what’s wrong with myself lol).

Yeah, I think this is where I really started to get into the Arthurian legend, I even think that liking it was the reason I chose to stay in the UK. (Yup, my parents have since happily gone on to work in other countries, but I said I don't want to wander around, I’m gonna stay here plz let me stay) Gosh, it's so convenient that if you live in the UK if you see a certain location of interest for Arthurian you can just go there and check it out…

btw my sister is also quite into Arthuriana (well, under my influence), but she’s pretty stick to Arthur & Guinevere, so every time u know when i say “aww i feel like Guincelot and even MordGuin is cute” she’s like “damn u…” lol, sisterhood<3

Plz ignore this part:

And thanks for the Isles of Britain to “adopt” me lol, feels like I'd be more likely to call the UK my home rather than others, as although I've lived in many countries (thanks to my parents? I guess I should be thankful? But I actually don’t really think so) I haven't grown attached to any of them probably because none of them have I lived for time long enough (even those where my ancestors came from, how to say this, like my lineage). Being mixed race identity crisis has always been a thing, even exacerbated by changing residence all the time in my childhood, so it really feels good to have a place a country to be called home u know… Seriously, in that way, Arthurian legend has changed my life (my saviour) (this sounds really really weird I know…)

Yeah i just yapped too much, ignore me plz… but this question just brought so many precious memories to me🥹… thx 4 this question for just be brought up🥺

arthuriana fandom. what was your FIRST introduction to arthuriana im v curious,,, like was it a book a movie word of mouth etc etc

[bloomburnburial]

the baseline level of stress I feel at home remains unsustainable and yet we will continue to endure

[hanzajesthanza]

dandelion is indeed the worst but if he’s not present in the next book i would legitimately be sorrowful as the whole thing will become a slog . you basically cannot have the “short stories” era-of-the-timeline iteration of geralt without dandelion, it would be like eating unbuttered bread.

though it’s not like season of storms did them dirty, i wasn’t disappointed with it (… with regards to them), but since it’s literally been over 20 years since the saga was finished i’m trying to prepare for any potential reality

[miiiwu]

.

[iamthemaestro]

Oh boy. I have a lot to say on this. I 1000% think that one of the biggest issues in AWI reenactment is the failure to reach the younger generation and I also wish the article had talked more about this and how it intersects with the inclusion of historically marginalized groups within the hobby.

I’ll put it this way: as of 2024, the BAR has an article in their constitution that prohibits women in ranks. As a young, non-male, and only sometimes white-passing reenactor, this has caused me issues in the past. People from the BAR have complained about me—a young, fairly new, dedicated reenactor—being on the field as a musician. Now, I’ve had the good fortune to be part of a unit with significant influence in the hobby, who have gone to bat for me in these instances and allowed me to feel relatively safe coming to these events, but I still can’t take up a musket at a BAR event if I want to. Over the past year I have become acutely aware that if it weren’t for the fact that I do music and not hat company, I would not be able to interpret at these events in the way I have repeatedly proven myself capable of doing.

So you have the primary overarching association responsible for organizing large-scale AWI reenactments literally denying interested, dedicated people from the younger generation the opportunity to participate in the hobby. And this is just one official organization—this is to say nothing of the culture. At the end of the day, sexism, racism, homophobia and transphobia is rampant in these environments. I do think the culture is slowly improving with time, but still, there are spaces where I do not feel safe in the hobby, and I spend a lot of time considering what my future as a reenactor might look like if I ever decide to medically transition, for example. My love for this hobby means I put up with a lot, even within my own unit, but I cannot fault other people who take one look at this mess and decide it’s not worth it. Of course there are going to be less reenactors. If individual units and the overarching organizations are going to actively resist a new generation of young living historians, interest in the hobby is going to waver.

I also think there’s an important distinction to make between so-called “progressive” units and a broader sense of historical accuracy, because ultimately reenactment is a hobby. I strongly believe that no issue of historical accuracy should take precedent over actual issues of discrimination (if we were going to really pursue historical accuracy, we would be excluding probably 90% of the reenactment community as it is!). But I also believe that the spirit of this hobby is one that is educational and authentic: second to having fun and staying safe, of course, I think the priority should be pursuing as accurate of an impression as you can in the meantime. “Progressive” units often get kind of a bad rap but ultimately I think they have the right idea. They’re what’s going to keep this hobby relevant as an educational tool and pursuit, as opposed to just being a bunch of grown men running around playing war with each other. Progressive units are, in my opinion, the future of this hobby. And yet a lot of more conservative units have this weird resistance to this philosophy simply because they don’t… want to have to adapt to what it means, I suppose. But I really do think that if that philosophy prevails, we won’t have educational reenactment—it’s possible we won’t have much in terms of reenactment at all. Ultimately I want to believe this, too, will improve in time, but the fact that we have to violently contest, for example, whether British soldiers had to shave (which they did) just because some reenactors desperately want an excuse not to… does not bode well for garnering interest from historians and enthusiasts in time for the 250th.

Anyway, that’s been my experience. I should probably stop talking about this because I think about it constantly and could go on forever. But that’s my (admittedly rather scathing) two cents on why this is the case.

Who has Wall Street Journal access I heard there’s an article about 250th reenactors and I need the tea