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@lovinglyjinxed
⋆⁺₊𝓂𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ⋆⁺₊𝓇𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈 ⋆⁺₊𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓈 - closed ⋆⁺₊𝒦𝒪𝐹𝐼
GUYS I ALMOST HAVE 200 FOLLOWRSSSS OOOOOOO
ill be back to writing sometime this week thanku
no, YOU live in a society, I live at the restaurant, sitting in the corner I haunt with my hair pinned up sitting cross-legged in the dim light with glass shattered on the white cloth
THIS
—ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴡ/ ʜꜱʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ—♡
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆notes | kissing and spooks, what more could a girl ask for...? SWF- wc: 5.4k
★DJINX
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Kafka
The night’s alive with Halloween chaos—fog machines, flashing lights, someone in a zombie mask chasing a pack of screaming kids. You and Kafka walk hand in hand toward the haunted house at the edge of the fairgrounds, where fake screams leak out between the fog like steam. She looks criminally good in black—long coat, tall boots, a touch of dark lipstick that could probably get her arrested for intent to kill. You’re the lighter contrast beside her, glitter-dusted, halo headband just slightly crooked.
She gives you a sidelong grin. “You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart? You jump every time the popcorn pops.”
You scoff. “That was one time.”
Kafka chuckles, low and lazy, the kind of laugh that curls under your skin. “Alright. Lead the way, brave girl.”
Inside, the air is cold and smells like fog juice and cheap latex. Something shrieks up ahead, and your heart does a gymnastics routine in your chest. Kafka’s arm slides around your waist like she’s done this a thousand times, pulling you against her side.
“See?” she says, amusement in her voice. “Totally safe. No one’s gonna eat you. Except maybe me.”
You elbow her gently, trying not to smile. “You’re such a menace.”
“Yeah,” she says, smirking. “But I’m your menace.”
You turn a corner and nearly collide with a man in a bloody clown mask. You let out a sound that is definitely not dignified. Kafka bites back a laugh but doesn’t quite manage it—she’s shaking from trying to hold it in.
“Don’t even,” you warn, glaring up at her.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, clearly lying.
By the time you reach the final hallway, you’re both laughing more than screaming. Kafka’s fingers are laced through yours again, warm and solid in the dark. You can feel her heartbeat against your shoulder when she leans in and murmurs, “You actually did it. I’m impressed.”
“You doubted me?”
“Constantly,” she says, lips quirking. “But you proved me wrong. Guess I owe you something for surviving.”
“Like what?” you ask, breathless, half teasing.
She pauses just long enough for the exit door to swing open behind you, flooding the space with night air and the smell of kettle corn. Then she kisses you—quick, confident, a spark that short-circuits your brain.
When she pulls back, her grin is smug. “Like that.”
You blink, trying to recover. “That’s all I get?”
Kafka slides her arm over your shoulders, steering you toward the lights of the fair again. “Finish your candy first,” she says. “Then we’ll negotiate.”
You laugh, leaning into her warmth as fireworks crackle in the distance. The haunted house fades into the background noise of the night—because really, nothing in there scared you half as much as how much you love her.
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.March 7th
The fairground looks like a sugar-fueled dream—pumpkins lit from within, fake cobwebs strung between lampposts, caramel and popcorn thick in the air. March 7th practically bounces beside you, her pink hair tied in twin braids with tiny plastic bats clipped in. She’s wearing a ridiculous ghost hoodie that glows faintly in the dark, and she’s been humming the Monster Mash for the last ten minutes straight.
“C’mon!” she says, tugging your hand toward the haunted house. “It says ‘not recommended for children under thirteen,’ which means it’s perfect for us!”
You raise a brow. “You realize that’s a warning, not an invitation, right?”
March grins, eyes sparkling under the neon. “Tomato, tomahto.”
Inside, the haunted house smells like fog and floor polish. Animatronic skeletons twitch in the corners. March gasps, delighted, pointing out every cheap scare like it’s a masterpiece. “Look! The zombie’s got motion sensors! That’s so cool!” she whispers loudly, right before the zombie lunges.
You yelp. She bursts out laughing so hard she almost drops her candy bag. “You’re worse than me!”
“I was caught off guard!” you protest.
“You were caught by design!” she teases, clinging to your arm as you move deeper into the maze. “You should see your face—adorable and terrified.”
She’s fearless, really—half the time she jumps toward the monsters just to see how they move. You’re not sure if she’s brave or just missing a self-preservation gene. Every time something pops out, she giggles instead of screams. At one point, she even high-fives a guy in a werewolf costume.
By the time you reach the last room—a fake graveyard with flickering lights and a cheap fog machine—March is glowing with excitement. “That was amazing!” she says, spinning in a circle. “We should go again!”
You groan. “Let’s not push our luck. I think my soul left my body back at the clown corridor.”
She snorts, looping her arm through yours. “I’ll take care of you, scaredy-cat.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it,” she says without missing a beat. Her tone is teasing, but there’s a faint blush warming her cheeks under the lantern glow.
Outside, the night feels soft again—music drifting from the rides, lights reflecting in her eyes. She digs into her candy bag and holds up a wrapped chocolate skull. “Peace offering?”
You take it, biting back a smile. “You’re forgiven. Mostly.”
March beams and bumps her shoulder against yours. “Good. ‘Cause I was gonna make you share your caramel corn as penance.”
The two of you wander back toward the carnival, candy swinging, laughter spilling into the chill October air. The haunted house fades behind you, but March’s joy lingers—bright, loud, and golden as the lanterns overhead.
“Next year,” she says, eyes shining, “we’re doing matching costumes. You and me—unstoppable duo of cute chaos!”
You don’t even argue. With March, somehow, chaos feels like home.
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Stelle
The fairground is pure chaos—fog spilling over the pavement, strings of orange lights flickering like dying stars, the smell of fried sugar thick in the air. It’s loud, messy, a little unhinged. Naturally, Stelle’s thriving.
She saunters up beside you wearing a raccoon hoodie—gray fur, black mask, tail clipped to her belt—and an expression that says she’s about to commit at least three misdemeanors for fun. You, meanwhile, are in your cardboard trash-can costume, painstakingly painted silver, complete with fake recycling stickers.
Stelle stops, looks you over slowly, and grins. “You look deliciously dumpster chic.”
You sigh. “I cannot believe I agreed to be your matching costume.”
“Believe it,” she says, snatching a piece of candy from your bucket. “You’re the can. I’m the creature. We’re a symbiotic masterpiece.”
“Symbiotic?” you ask. “You mean parasitic.”
She grins wider. “Semantics, sweetheart.”
The haunted house looms ahead, all fake cobwebs and green light. Stelle eyes it like prey. “Alright, trash princess. You ready to wreak havoc?”
You squint at her. “We’re supposed to walk through it—not become the final boss.”
“Relax,” she says. “I’m just here for the vibes.”
You know she’s lying the moment she disappears into the fog. Two minutes later, you hear screaming. Then—laughter. Her laughter. You turn the corner just as a group of teenagers bolt past, shrieking, and there she is—perched on top of a coffin prop, wielding a rubber severed hand like a trophy.
“Stelle!” you hiss. “You can’t do that!”
She hops down, looking criminally pleased. “Correction: I did do that. And it was art.”
“Security’s going to throw us out!”
“Good,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “Then we can get funnel cake sooner.”
You’re trying to stay mad, but her grin is too contagious. You’re halfway out of the haunted house when she nudges you. “Admit it,” she says. “You had fun.”
“You terrify me.”
“That’s basically the same thing.”
Outside, the night air feels almost too bright after all that chaos. Stelle stretches, her tail swaying behind her as she eyes your costume again. “You know, I think I might actually love you.”
You raise a brow. “Because I put up with your nonsense?”
“No,” she says, smirking. “Because you’re shiny and full of snacks.”
You laugh so hard you nearly drop your candy bucket. She beams like she just won a prize.
Then she clinks her pilfered soda can against your cardboard rim. “To us,” she says. “The trashiest couple alive.”
You grin, bumping her back. “Happy Halloween, you chaotic little raccoon.”
She pops a stolen caramel into her mouth and winks. “Right back at you, my beautiful bin.”
And then she’s off again—darting into the crowd, tail bouncing, leaving you trailing behind her, laughing into the night like maybe being her trash can isn’t such a bad gig after all.
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Sparkle
You should’ve known better than to let Sparkle plan Halloween.
The invitation arrived days before, wrapped in crimson ribbon and dusted with fine gold glitter. The looping script promised A night of terror and delight. No address, no time—just a summons that smelled faintly of smoke and something almost sweet enough to make your teeth ache. You knew exactly what “delight” meant when it came from her.
She appeared at your door like chaos incarnate. Her kabuki-inspired stage robe clung and swirled, red and black fabric layered over gold trim. Detached sleeves trailed behind her like flickering shadows, her oni mask perched at a rakish angle on her head, charms jingling softly with each step. She moved like a predator, radiant, theatrical, and dangerous, every gesture deliberate. Her grin alone could make hearts race and knees weak.
You shifted awkwardly in your white-and-pink bunny costume, ears twitching nervously. “Sparkle… really? You made me do this?”
She leaned in, close enough that her perfume—spice and smoke—hit you like a spark. One eyebrow lifted. “Oh, darling… don’t pretend you hate it. Nothing suits you better than soft ears and innocent fluff.” Her fingers trailed lightly down the back of your neck, teasing along your shoulder.
“And,” she murmured, voice dropping low, velvet-thick, “I’ve been thinking about bunnies all day. So soft, so delicate… so easy to rile up..."
You swallowed hard, heat crawling up your neck. “Rile up ...?"
Her grin widened, wicked and gleaming. The bells on her sleeves jingled faintly as she tilted her head. “Mmm… the kind of fun that makes your heart race and your little ears stand at attention. And trust me, darling…” She pressed a finger gently under your chin, lifting your gaze. “…I plan to find out exactly how reactive you can be.”
You tried to protest, but her hand slid over yours, fingers curling around yours with a possessive insistence. “Shh,” she said, pressing her lips briefly to the shell of your ear. “We’re going into my little stage now. The haunted house. And bunny…” She tugged you a step closer, eyes sparkling with that maddening mix of danger and desire. “…I play my roles very seriously.”
The haunted house loomed ahead, crooked and imposing, fog spilling from its cracked windows like smoke from a kiln. Its sign read House of Illusions, flickering ominously under the orange light. Sparkle’s hand tightened around yours as she led you through the entrance.
Inside, the lights were low, strobe flashes punctuating fog and the occasional scream. You stiffened as a zombie lunged from the shadows. Sparkle, though, only laughed, all teeth and thrill.
“Ah! Perfect!” she whispered, pressing herself lightly against your side. Her robe swirled, bells jingling softly. “Your little squeak completes the scene. Ten points for adorable terror.”
“You’re insane,” you muttered, trying to keep your composure as your heart hammered.
“Insane?” she said, voice low and sultry, tracing a finger along your arm. “No, darling. Committed. Passionate. I’ve been rehearsing for this moment… imagining your reactions. Every twitch, every gasp… every shiver.”
Her hand slid up to your jaw, thumb brushing lightly against your lip. “Mmm…bunnies taste so sweet. Especially when they’re nervous. And… pliable. Perfect for a little… practice,” she murmured, voice dropping an octave, teasing, dark.
Your ears burned, but you couldn’t look away. She thrived on this—the game of fear, desire, and mischief. Another actor jumped out in a bloody clown mask. You yelped, jumping into her chest, and she laughed, low and amused, pressing her body closer.
“Ah! That’s it!” she said, spinning you gently around in the fog. “The flinch! The gasp! So… deliciously distracting. I should write a guidebook: How to Keep Your Bunny Forever on Their Toes.” She brushed a thumb along the curve of your cheek, a touch both intimate and teasing. “Or… maybe I’ll just keep you all to myself.”
You swallowed hard, words failing.
She leaned in, lips brushing your ear again, breath warm and teasing. “And don’t think I won’t play with you here. These corridors… these shadows… every corner is perfect for a little… extra fun. You might find yourself screaming in ways that aren’t entirely from the actors.”
Your pulse surged. You could feel her heat pressing against you, her charms jingling softly, the scent of her perfume—smoke, amber, something dangerous—enveloping you. You were helpless, and she knew it. That was the beauty of Sparkle: the way she made chaos intoxicating, dangerous, and irresistible all at once.
Finally, the hallway opened into the main chamber. Candles flickered in fog, mirrors multiplied her image into a thousand red-and-black sparks of chaos. She stopped, brushing your hair from your face with one delicate, teasing hand. “Now, bunny,” she murmured, lips close to your ear, “for the grand finale.”
Before you could react, her mouth was on yours.
The kiss started slow, exploratory, almost teasing, letting you catch your breath, savoring your taste. Then it deepened, teeth grazing your lower lip, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate heat. Her hands tangled in your hair, fingers curling around the fur of your bunny ears, pulling you impossibly close. Every inch of her was fire, danger, and desire, swirling together in a way that made the haunted house, the screams, the fog… all fade into irrelevance.
She pulled back briefly, forehead resting against yours, eyes glinting with triumph. “Mmm… you taste like fear, sugar, and delight all at once. Distracting,” she whispered, voice thick with amusement.
You shivered.
Her lips returned to yours, slow and deliberate, claiming and teasing, hands roaming, tugging, exploring. She pressed her body flush against yours, the sound of her laughter soft and dark at the back of her throat. “Yes… just like that,” she murmured, her breath hitching slightly. “React, squeak, tremble… I adore it all. My little bunny.”
You gasped against her mouth, heart hammering. Sparkle laughed softly, a sound that made your knees weak and mind dizzy, then nipped your lower lip gently before pulling back enough to look at you.
Her mask was still tilted atop her head, her robe falling in perfect chaos around her, bells jingling softly. She brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek. “See?” she whispered. “Fear, desire, delight… it’s all the same heartbeat. And you, my darling… you make it worth listening to.”
You were trembling, breathless, lost in the swirl of her energy, intoxicated by her chaos.
“Come on, bunny,” she said, looping her arm through yours, tugging you gently as if the night itself belonged to her. “The house isn’t done yet, and I’ve only begun my performance. There’s so much more fun to have… and so many more ways to keep you on your toes.”
Her bells jingled as she twirled, robe flaring, mask tilted, grin wicked and triumphant. And as you stumbled to keep up, heart still racing from both the scares and the kisses, you realized something terrifyingly wonderful: Sparkle didn’t just create chaos. She owned it. And somehow, impossibly, deliciously, she’d made you a willing part of her performance—helpless to resist, eager for every twist, every teasing word, every heated glance.
And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Acheron
The line for the haunted house was long, winding around the corner like a restless ghost, but Acheron walked beside you with her usual composed calm, hands tucked neatly into her coat pockets. You tugged at her sleeve, grinning.
“Come on, Acheron, it’s Halloween! You’re supposed to be scared,” you teased, bouncing on your heels.
She turned her head slightly, one eyebrow arching ever so subtly, the faintest trace of amusement in her eyes. “I don’t think fear suits me. But… guiding you through it might be interesting.”
That was her way of saying yes without actually saying it. You grabbed her hand anyway, and she didn’t pull away.
The haunted house doors creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway thick with fog. Cackles and whispers seemed to rise from nowhere. You jumped at a sudden skeleton that flopped onto the floor, letting out a high-pitched squeal. Acheron’s hand tightened around yours, steadying you, her calm presence like a lighthouse in the storm of fake terror.
“You’re… not scared?” you asked breathlessly, still clutching her arm.
“Scared wouldn’t help anyone in here,” she replied softly. “But I can see the appeal in the chaos.”
A trap door slammed open, sending a cloud of fog across your feet. You shrieked and stumbled backward into her arms. She caught you effortlessly, her arms solid and steady. For a moment, your eyes met, and the faintest smile touched her lips—almost imperceptible, but it made your heart flutter.
As you wandered deeper into the haunted maze, a phantom moaned, echoing off the walls. You squealed again, and Acheron let out a rare, low chuckle.
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Robin
Penacony was drenched in a dreamlike glow that night—holographic jack-o’-lanterns flickering between laughter and menace, star-shaped lights floating above candy-colored streets. The air tasted of caramel and the faint fizz of sweet soda mist that drifted through the amusement district. You tugged at the sleeve of your own costume—a vampire cloak that was definitely too dramatic—and glanced at the woman beside you.
Robin. Penacony’s angelic idol, dressed down for once. Well, trying to be.
She’d gone for a simple witch disguise: a black hat, sheer veil, and a cloak that did a poor job of hiding the shimmer in her eyes or the recognizable curve of her smile. “Do you think anyone will notice?” she asked, voice soft, melodic—like she couldn’t help but sing even when she whispered.
You grinned. “Only if they’re not blind.”
She laughed quietly, swatting your arm. “You’re terrible. Come on—the haunted house is starting.”
The two of you joined the crowd funneling into a massive gothic mansion made of candy-glass and projected shadows. A giant digital moon hung above, turning everyone silver and spectral. Robin clung to your arm as holographic ghosts swooped past, and you couldn’t tell if the slight tremor in her hand was from fear or play-acting.
Halfway through, as a mechanical ghoul popped out of a coffin, she shrieked—a perfectly pitched note that ricocheted down the hall like a live performance. The group ahead turned, wide-eyed. One girl gasped. “Wait… is that Robin?”
You froze. Robin blinked, wide-eyed, then whispered, “Nope, not me!” before practically grabbing your hand and sprinting down a side corridor lined with cracked mirrors. Behind you came the sound of shouts—fans realizing their idol was not only here, but on a date with someone in a cape.
You both burst through an emergency exit and stumbled into an alley behind the haunted mansion, laughing breathlessly. Her hat had fallen off, her veil askew, and her braid had slipped loose from its pins, haloing her in curls.
“Smooth escape,” you panted.
She leaned against the wall, eyes bright with adrenaline. “I was doing so well until the ghoul!”
“Pretty sure the ghoul’s career peaked right there,” you teased.
She gave you that look—the one halfway between mischief and affection—and brushed her fingers against yours. “You didn’t have to run with me, you know.”
“Of course I did,” you said. “I can’t leave my partner in crime to face a mob of adoring fans alone. That’s just bad manners.”
She laughed again, softer this time, and for a moment the chaos outside dimmed. The neon light flickered across her face—violet, gold, then rose—and you felt your heartbeat stumble in the prettiest way possible.
A click shattered the quiet. You both turned. A tabloid drone hovered nearby, lens gleaming like an unblinking eye. Before you could react, it snapped three quick shots—Robin’s hand still tangled with yours, her face flushed and smiling.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” you said grimly. “Tomorrow’s headline: ‘Starlet Robin’s Mystery Date: Who Is the Vampire Cloaked Cutie?’”
Robin covered her face, laughing helplessly. “I can already hear the PR team screaming.”
You nudged her shoulder. “Could be worse. They’ll call it a publicity stunt.”
She peeked at you through her fingers. “And if they don’t?”
You shrugged, grinning. “Then I guess we’ll just have to make it true.”
Her expression softened—music written in light—and she reached up, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand. “You’re trouble,” she murmured.
“Only for you.”
The distant hum of Penacony’s nightlife rolled back in, sweet and electric. Somewhere, music was playing—a remix of one of her songs—and she smiled at the irony. “Let’s go before they find us again.”
So you ran, laughing, through a city of endless dreams, hand in hand—two silhouettes stitched together by mischief and starlight, chased by fans, headlines, and the dizzy kind of feeling that no disguise could hide.
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Qingque
You were halfway through your shift when a hand shot out from the corner and yanked you into the hallway.
“Shh, shh—no questions!” Qingque hissed, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she dragged you past the offices of the Divination Commission. Her jade hairpins jingled like chimes, and her wide sleeves fluttered as she tugged you toward the exit. “You’ve been working way too hard. Time for something fun!”
“Qingque, I have reports to—”
“Reports are eternal. Fun is fleeting.” She winked. “Besides, I already told Fu Xuan you’re on ‘official business.’”
Before you could protest, she had already whisked you out into the neon-drenched streets of the Xianzhou Luofu. Lanterns glowed crimson against the mist, and paper talismans fluttered in the air. A banner ahead read: ‘House of a Hundred Spirits – Haunted Attraction!’
You groaned. “A haunted house? Really?”
Qingque’s grin only widened. “What? You think fortune-tellers can’t handle a few fake ghosts?”
Inside, the air was cool and faintly metallic. Candles flickered. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, and eerie whispers seemed to drift from nowhere. Qingque clutched your sleeve—only for a holographic ghoul to drop from the ceiling with a shriek.
Her scream nearly deafened you.
“Not scared, huh?” you teased.
“I—That was just a… test of reflexes!” she stammered, cheeks pink. “A strategist must always—AH!” Another ghost popped out, and she practically climbed onto your arm.
By the time you reached the next corridor, Qingque was walking behind you, using you as a human shield. You had to bite back a laugh. “You sure you don’t want to go first, Miss Bold and Fearless?”
She sniffed, trying to regain dignity. “I’m observing the terrain. Tactical advantage, you see.”
Halfway through the maze, the walls began to move—an illusion of collapsing corridors and drifting paper souls. Qingque pressed close, her hand slipping into yours. Her pulse was racing, and her voice dropped low. “You know… maybe this was a bad idea.”
You squeezed her hand. “Or maybe you just wanted an excuse to hold mine.”
That earned you a scandalized glare—followed by a sheepish smile. “Maybe.”
The final jump scare was a massive holographic demon lunging from the mist. Qingque yelped and threw herself into your arms, eyes squeezed shut. When she realized she was still alive, she peeked up at you, lips trembling in a mix of fear and laughter.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
“Just a little.”
She huffed, crossing her arms—but didn’t pull away from your side as you stepped out into the streetlights again. The haunted house faded behind you, replaced by the gentle hum of the Luofu’s cityscape.
“You owe me hot tea,” she muttered.
“And you owe me a report explaining how this was ‘official business.’”
Qingque smirked, slipping her arm around your waist. “Easy. It was morale-boosting research.”
You laughed, and under the glowing lanterns, she leaned in—her voice soft as starlight. “Next time, though… no ghosts. Just you.”
★
₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Cyrene
The light in Okhema’s Marmoreal Market always had a holy kind of glow—soft, gilded, eternal. Tonight, it gilded Cyrene like she was carved right out of it. She stood in the center of the square, surrounded by a half-circle of wide-eyed children, her voice a melody that drifted through the air like incense.
You lingered at the edge of the square, arms crossed, pretending you weren’t smiling like a fool. It was impossible not to. Cyrene told stories like they were sacred relics—old myths about the first dawn, the Titans who shaped the ground and sky, and the song that kept the city from falling asleep. The kids leaned forward, hanging on every word. She used her hands when she spoke, graceful and animated, like she was painting pictures in the air.
You’d seen her fight, study, debate—but this? This was the Cyrene that got under your skin. Soft, patient, burning quietly from the inside out.
When she finally ended her tale—“and so the light never left Okhema, not even when the gods did”—the children erupted in applause. Cyrene bowed dramatically, earning giggles and cheers. You clapped too, quietly.
She turned, spotting you immediately. A smile bloomed across her face like it had been waiting for you. “How long were you standing there, you stalker?”
“Long enough to know you’ve got some serious competition with the city’s bards,” you said, walking toward her. “I might have to book tickets next time.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “They begged me to tell a story. You can’t say no to that many tiny faces.”
“Yeah, you’re a real martyr,” you teased, bumping your shoulder against hers. “Anyway, your public duties are over for tonight. I’m kidnapping you.”
“Kidnapping?” she echoed, mock-offended. “From what noble cause?”
“From being too good,” you said. “You’ve earned a break, and I’ve got the perfect way to spend it.”
Cyrene tilted her head, intrigued. “You’re scheming again. What is it this time?”
You grinned. “Haunted house date.”
Her lips parted, then she laughed—a low, musical sound that made your chest ache. “You’re serious.”
“Completely. It’s in the old quarter. Some merchants set it up for the festival. Fake ghosts, real screams, overpriced tickets—everything you could want in a terrible idea.”
Cyrene folded her arms, pretending to think. “You’re aware I hate jump scares, right?”
“You’ll survive. I’ll protect you.”
That earned you a smirk. “Oh, will you now?”
She let you take her hand, the warmth of her fingers grounding you against the cool marble underfoot. Together you walked through Okhema’s narrow lanes, past shuttered shops and fading banners. The eternal dawn above had dimmed into its dusky gold phase—the closest thing the city had to night. The world glowed, like someone had draped it in candlelight.
The “haunted house” was waiting at the edge of the district, a converted warehouse decked out with cheap fabric ghosts, faint mist, and an absolutely unconvincing sign that read: SPECTRAL BAZAAR – BEWARE THE UNSEEN.
Cyrene stopped and gave you a look. “That’s the name? Spectral Bazaar? Sounds like a scam..."
You laughed. “Hey, commit to the theme.”
You both stepped inside, and the temperature seemed to drop instantly. The first corridor was lined with cracked mirrors reflecting twisted versions of the two of you. Every reflection shimmered slightly out of sync, like they existed half a second in another time.
Cyrene let out a slow whistle. “Okay… that’s actually creepy.”
“I told you. High-quality terror.”
A low groan echoed through the corridor. You jumped. Cyrene snorted, failing to hide her grin. “You’re supposed to be the brave one, remember?”
“I am! That was just… ambiance appreciation.”
She reached over, lacing her fingers through yours. “Come on, ambiance appreciator. Lead the way.”
You did, heart hammering with a mix of nerves and something warmer. The deeper you went, the more surreal it got—ghostly figures projected against the walls, whispering fragments of stories in a language you didn’t know. Cyrene, fearless now, would stop to mimic them dramatically until you doubled over laughing.
By the time you reached the final room—a mock “tomb” draped in gold cloth and candles—your cheeks hurt from smiling. Cyrene turned to you, her face soft in the glow. “Okay,” she said, “you win. This was actually… fun.”
“Ha!” you declared triumphantly. “Knew I’d convert you to the cult of haunted houses.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t convert me. You distracted me. And that’s dangerous, because now I might start liking you too much.”
That shut you up. She smiled, stepping closer. “What? The brave one’s speechless?”
You opened your mouth to respond, but she kissed you instead—quick, certain, tasting faintly of laughter and sugar from the sweets she’d given the children earlier.
When she pulled back, her eyes were full of mischief. “You’re lucky I finished my story first,” she said. “Otherwise, the ending might’ve been less romantic.”
“Would’ve been worth it,” you murmured.
You both left the haunted house hand in hand, the eternal light of Okhema spilling over the streets once more. The ghosts faded behind you, leaving only your shared laughter echoing through the marble corridors.
In a city that never truly slept, you’d found something even rarer than light—a moment that felt alive.
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♡17# + taglist @trashlanternfish360 @nobloodonlycoffee @misuzue @kittzu @yangnyangyi @simpingeverysecond @electro--storm @gr8jason @cultest-of-blahja @dontbother46 @m0bne @sunsettulip @kaelquin @p1xistixx @tallygator @augoonx @violetesensou @xixilea @goldenstarlightabyss @crystalkat6747 @alphawolf457 @thycheshire @unkownmaker @toastedlem0ns @sashimees @syrie-slays @anbylover3000 @tsuyustan @cosmo-cam @lulubelle-mochi @toyaism @basilchennex @thenotherkid @k1-2-ur-h3art @sirkalen @unseensolaceprodigy @hasukinanako @lucynobody @lunarmikuu @soulkissesst4r @wrios-milk @eternalblizzards @alt-alune @phezzylex @1dissetrixie0 @plumpkie @keyzheart @soulkissesst4r
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older fic i still enjoy
im rly excited for Olivia Rodrigos new album. I havent bought one of hers yet but I think this new sound is gonna make me rly be a fan.
I'm about to binge read all your fics over the next few days <(￣︶￣)>
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SLEEPING HABITS W/ HSR MEN🤎
HONKAI STAR RAIL | Dan Heng, Sunday, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Mydei, Phainon, Anaxagoras, Ashveill, Blade
[REQUESTED!♡] [DJINX!♡]
DAN HENG
sleeps lightly, never fully surrendering to rest. Years of exile, danger, and watchfulness left him accustomed to waking at the smallest sound. He prefers cool rooms, dim lighting, and the steady hum of the Express. When you struggle to sleep—whether from nightmares, anxiety, overthinking, or simple restlessness—he doesn't overwhelm with advice. Instead, he quietly stays beside you, reading while you settle down. One hand remains within reach if you want it. In either form he will always wrap his tail around your fingers lightly. He speaks in a low, even voice, recounting harmless observations from his travels until you thoughts slow. Only after you're asleep does he finally close his own eyes.
-
SUNDAY
sleeps far less than people realize. Years spent listening to the worries of others left him accustomed to late nights and restless thoughts of his own. He prefers quiet rooms, neatly arranged blankets, and the faint sound of music drifting in the background. When you struggle to sleep he never pushes for answers. Instead, he remains beside you, patient and attentive. One hand gently intertwines with yours if you seek comfort. He speaks in a soft, measured voice, sharing stories, memories, or simple observations until your mind begins to settle. Only once your breathing evens and sleep finally claims you does he allow himself to close his eyes as well.
-
WELT
doesn't sleep very deeply anymore. Not because he expects danger, but because after a lifetime of carrying responsibilities, part of him is always listening for the people he cares about. If you wake in the middle of the night, chances are he's awake too. Quietly reading in the dim light, glasses perched low on his nose as he turns another page. When you can't sleep, he never pushes. He'll simply set his book aside and make room for you against his shoulder. If you want to talk, he'll listen. If you don't, he won't press for answers. Silence has never made him uncomfortable. Sometimes he'll tell you stories about places you've never seen, old films from his home, or memories softened by time. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to pull your thoughts away from whatever is keeping them awake. And somehow, with the steady rhythm of his voice and the quiet certainty he carries, sleep never seems quite so far away.
-
SAMPO
claims he's excellent at sleeping. According to him, it's one of his many talents. In reality, he's usually the last one asleep and the first to notice when you're still awake. If you can't sleep, he'll start talking. Not about anything important. In fact, the more important the problem is, the less directly he'll address it. He'll tell ridiculous stories, make up outrageous business ventures, complain about people who definitely deserved to be scammed, and somehow have you smiling before you realize what he's doing. The whole time, he's watching you from the corner of his eye. Eventually his voice grows quieter, his jokes less frequent, until you're half asleep against him. Only then does he relax, an arm settling around you as if it ended up there by accident. When morning comes, he'll deny being sweet about any of it. But somehow, he's always there on the nights you need him most.
-
GEPARD
sleeps like someone who knows the city never truly rests. Even off duty, years of standing watch over Belobog make him a light sleeper, quick to wake at unusual sounds. He prefers quiet, cold rooms and often falls asleep later than he intends after finishing reports or checking that everything is in order. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately try to solve the problem. Instead, he stays beside you, patient and steady, letting you talk through whatever is weighing on your mind. If words don't come easily, that's fine too. He'll rest a hand over yours, gently tracing circles across your knuckles while speaking about simple things—flowers he's trying to grow, stories from patrol, songs Serval used to sing at home. His voice is calm and grounding, carrying the certainty that you're safe. If a nightmare wakes you, he'll be awake in seconds, pulling you close without hesitation. He won't leave until your breathing evens out and sleep finally finds you again.
-
JINGYUAN
sleeps surprisingly well when he finally allows himself to. Years of carrying the weight of the Luofu taught him that exhaustion clouds judgment, so he values rest even if duty constantly tries to steal it away. Still, he often lingers awake, lost in thought, watching the departing starskiffs or quietly playing through old memories. When you have trouble sleeping, he never rushes you toward rest. Instead, he invites you to sit beside him, speaking in that calm, unhurried voice that makes even worries feel less urgent. He'll tell stories from his travels, amusing tales about old friends, or observations that seem pointless until you realize they've distracted you from your spiraling thoughts. If nightmares wake you, he simply draws you closer, one hand resting against your back. No lectures, no questions, no pressure. Just a steady presence, patient as moonlight, remaining awake a little longer so you don't have to face the darkness alone.
-
AVENTURINE
Sleep doesn't come easily to Aventurine. He spends so much of his life calculating odds, reading people, and preparing for every possible outcome that his mind rarely settles the moment his head touches the pillow. Even when he looks relaxed, there's usually a part of him still awake, still watching. When you can't sleep, he notices long before you say anything. Rather than pressing you for answers, he'll quietly draw your attention elsewhere, spinning stories, making harmless wagers about tomorrow, or asking questions he already knows don't need serious answers. It's easier to carry a burden when you're laughing a little. If anxiety keeps you awake, he'll lace his fingers through yours and remind you that not every uncertainty needs to be solved tonight. Beneath the charm and confidence is someone who understands fear far better than he lets on.
-
MYDEI
sleeps the way a warrior stands guard—never completely. Even when exhaustion finally drags him under, years of battle, prophecy, and surviving what should have killed him make rest feel more like a temporary ceasefire than true peace. He prefers your warmth close by, often keeping an arm around you without even realizing it. It's instinctive, like protecting something precious. When you struggle to sleep, his first instinct is action. He wants to fight the problem, defeat it, challenge it outright. But over time, he learns that not every battle can be won with strength. Instead, he stays beside you, listening more than speaking. His presence is solid and grounding, like an ancient stone wall weathering a storm. If nightmares wake you, he's immediately alert, pulling you against his chest before you've fully opened your eyes. He doesn't offer polished words or clever reassurances. He simply reminds you that you're here, alive, and safe. Sometimes he'll tell stories of Kremnos, of festivals, warriors, and fields of flowers waiting beyond hardship. His voice carries the certainty of someone who has stared death in the face countless times and kept walking. Sleep may evade him, but if it means standing watch over you through the night, Mydei considers that a battle worth winning.
-
PHAINON
sleeps as though he is standing watch over a dying flame. Even in rest, there is a quiet tension in him, the habit of someone who has carried hope through too many dark nights to ever set it down completely. He prefers open windows, cool air, and the faint scent of earth after rain. When sleep refuses to come, he doesn't ask what's wrong right away. Instead, he settles beside you with patient ease, speaking of distant wheat fields, old stories, and dreams of worlds yet to be built. His voice is warm and steady, never forcing comfort, only offering it. If nightmares wake you, he'll stay until dawn if needed. To him, no burden is too small when it's carried by someone he cares about.
-
ANAXAGORAS
sleeps reluctantly, as though rest is an argument he has yet to lose. Even when exhaustion finally catches up to him, books remain piled around his bed, papers covered in half-finished notes scattered across every available surface. More than once, he's fallen asleep while researching a question that refused to leave his mind. He prefers silence, dim lighting, and uninterrupted hours where thought can wander wherever it pleases. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately ask what's wrong. Instead, he begins talking—about paradoxes, ancient philosophies, absurd academic disputes, or whatever idea currently occupies his attention. Somehow, while trying to follow his reasoning or argue back, the weight on your mind starts to loosen. If sleep still refuses to come, he'll read aloud from one of his books, occasionally stopping to criticize the author's conclusions or propose a better answer himself. Every so often his gaze flickers toward you, checking whether you're still awake, though he'd deny doing so if asked. Once you finally drift off, he quietly returns to his notes. Hours later, long after everyone else is asleep, the faint scratch of a pen can still be heard as he chases another impossible question into the night.
ASHVEIL
sleeps lightly, the way old hunters do. One ear always tuned to the world around him, one hand never too far from his weapon. Years spent chasing criminals, debts, and ghosts have left him with the habit of waking at the slightest disturbance. He claims it's just part of the job, though the truth runs deeper than that. When sleep won't come, he doesn't pry. He'll simply settle nearby, nursing a cup of coffee gone cold hours ago or lazily flipping through old case files. Sometimes he'll tell you stories—not the glamorous kind about heroes saving the galaxy, but small ones. Lost dogs that found their way home. Missing people reunited with family. Ordinary victories that remind people the world isn't entirely cruel. If your thoughts keep spiraling, he'll listen without interruption, offering the occasional joke so terrible it earns an eye roll. He doesn't try to solve every problem. A detective knows some things just need time. And if nightmares wake you in the dark, you'll find him exactly where he was before, still keeping watch. He might grumble about lost sleep or send you an invoice for emotional support afterward, but neither would be serious. As long as you're awake and hurting, he won't be going anywhere. Not yet.
-
BLADE
doesn't sleep often. When he does, it comes in brief stretches between old memories and older scars. Most nights he's awake long before you are, sitting somewhere nearby with his sword within reach and his thoughts somewhere far away. Silence never seems to bother him. When sleep refuses to come for you, he notices before you say anything. He isn't good at comfort in the usual sense. He won't offer soft reassurances or tell you everything will be fine. Instead, he'll quietly make room beside him, wordlessly inviting you to stay. Sometimes he sharpens his blade. Sometimes he tends to old equipment. Sometimes he simply sits there in the dark. If nightmares wake you, his hand settles against yours before you can pull away from them completely. He understands what it means to be haunted. On the rare nights you manage to fall asleep against his shoulder, he remains perfectly still, as if afraid movement might disturb the fragile peace you've found. Only when your breathing finally evens out does he allow himself a moment of rest. And even then, one eye never fully closes.
TAGLIST | @vasheeradecls @yowhosthis @wvore @kawte679 @asakarai @pentofloem @mysticbolillo @thisstarisblue @grassanglass @jeffisfake @vallnal @chrxx6 @ithoughtthinks @jjuho-wwwondering @ilovehimekosm @evelynfushiguro @kittyliverpool @sweepincat @saikoosblog @rinyumii @commonerdoors2725 @dazlia @eternalconfluxexile @cycadsmenagerie @ellie6724 @shortnpanicking @aurorayork22 @bugzrcute @faunana @soberinla @starr1q @serebin @little-bing12 @dollyhrtzzs @howtowalk687 @jincngx @forcaze @bluedwyy @ryeoxuexii @itsleftcollectionfestw orld @purplelilac23 @pixel--gf @lentbe @ouist @robotrevnant @blossomvaneu @baguettedefontain @amberhearts-blog @anqelmeth @imcravingbubbletearn @xnoau @acyntite @giveyutasomelove @elizabethclouds @crimsonkarasutengu @they-themlock @saiiyama @jellyfishingmywaythrough @ecplise2864 @swansloves @hanussy2000 @souldeparted @notsoinvincible @skip-111 @iluv2dmenn @joexjtazuna @lowpoly-lizard @miffycait @ecliphia@crownohomo @sundaynumber1lover @friesaif @mitsurisfavv @heartsick-ly @sleepyditto
TAGLIST 2 | @kuramassss @ladygreyish @astxr15 @crayonstik @jadenaristotle @kaira35353 @iceychurr @wlwjoshua @fitakar @galagarts @hanako-h5 @aireeds @mersoliss @waiabita @lyambdaa @ttqui @leafl3ss @uhidekman @mqmmon @sunnydayml @tinyhologramphantom @hu3sitos @domiiniques @snugmutt @whateverthingsw @kimfrancinee @str1fesgirl @loryhn @acidsbeats @lmygoat @kwonthefire @urlocalsabito @cheriiiiii @universallystudentkitten @solarizxm @drieddcactus @lucidsei @julielovesnavyblue @starlitplumes @ellen-qq @lolbook @lolaof-thevalley @spirit12 @la-ila-la @faeriesblog @the-tired-potato-hani @anormalapheliosfan @alt-alune @phezzylex @plumpkie @keyzheart soulkissesst4r @wrios-milk @fureiart @creative--crisis @zyrexaels-stars @lixhizy @mikusaystransrights @trashlanternfish360 @nobloodonlycoffee @misuzue @kittzu @yaongxixi @simpingeverysecond @electro--storm @gr8jason @dontbother46 @m0bne @sunsettulip @violetesensou @cielsellsshells @p1xistixx @xixiliea @goldenstarlightabyss
SLEEPING HABITS W/ HSR MEN🤎
HONKAI STAR RAIL | Dan Heng, Sunday, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Mydei, Phainon, Anaxagoras, Ashveill, Blade
[REQUESTED!♡] [DJINX!♡]
DAN HENG
sleeps lightly, never fully surrendering to rest. Years of exile, danger, and watchfulness left him accustomed to waking at the smallest sound. He prefers cool rooms, dim lighting, and the steady hum of the Express. When you struggle to sleep—whether from nightmares, anxiety, overthinking, or simple restlessness—he doesn't overwhelm with advice. Instead, he quietly stays beside you, reading while you settle down. One hand remains within reach if you want it. In either form he will always wrap his tail around your fingers lightly. He speaks in a low, even voice, recounting harmless observations from his travels until you thoughts slow. Only after you're asleep does he finally close his own eyes.
-
SUNDAY
sleeps far less than people realize. Years spent listening to the worries of others left him accustomed to late nights and restless thoughts of his own. He prefers quiet rooms, neatly arranged blankets, and the faint sound of music drifting in the background. When you struggle to sleep he never pushes for answers. Instead, he remains beside you, patient and attentive. One hand gently intertwines with yours if you seek comfort. He speaks in a soft, measured voice, sharing stories, memories, or simple observations until your mind begins to settle. Only once your breathing evens and sleep finally claims you does he allow himself to close his eyes as well.
-
WELT
doesn't sleep very deeply anymore. Not because he expects danger, but because after a lifetime of carrying responsibilities, part of him is always listening for the people he cares about. If you wake in the middle of the night, chances are he's awake too. Quietly reading in the dim light, glasses perched low on his nose as he turns another page. When you can't sleep, he never pushes. He'll simply set his book aside and make room for you against his shoulder. If you want to talk, he'll listen. If you don't, he won't press for answers. Silence has never made him uncomfortable. Sometimes he'll tell you stories about places you've never seen, old films from his home, or memories softened by time. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to pull your thoughts away from whatever is keeping them awake. And somehow, with the steady rhythm of his voice and the quiet certainty he carries, sleep never seems quite so far away.
-
SAMPO
claims he's excellent at sleeping. According to him, it's one of his many talents. In reality, he's usually the last one asleep and the first to notice when you're still awake. If you can't sleep, he'll start talking. Not about anything important. In fact, the more important the problem is, the less directly he'll address it. He'll tell ridiculous stories, make up outrageous business ventures, complain about people who definitely deserved to be scammed, and somehow have you smiling before you realize what he's doing. The whole time, he's watching you from the corner of his eye. Eventually his voice grows quieter, his jokes less frequent, until you're half asleep against him. Only then does he relax, an arm settling around you as if it ended up there by accident. When morning comes, he'll deny being sweet about any of it. But somehow, he's always there on the nights you need him most.
-
GEPARD
sleeps like someone who knows the city never truly rests. Even off duty, years of standing watch over Belobog make him a light sleeper, quick to wake at unusual sounds. He prefers quiet, cold rooms and often falls asleep later than he intends after finishing reports or checking that everything is in order. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately try to solve the problem. Instead, he stays beside you, patient and steady, letting you talk through whatever is weighing on your mind. If words don't come easily, that's fine too. He'll rest a hand over yours, gently tracing circles across your knuckles while speaking about simple things—flowers he's trying to grow, stories from patrol, songs Serval used to sing at home. His voice is calm and grounding, carrying the certainty that you're safe. If a nightmare wakes you, he'll be awake in seconds, pulling you close without hesitation. He won't leave until your breathing evens out and sleep finally finds you again.
-
JINGYUAN
sleeps surprisingly well when he finally allows himself to. Years of carrying the weight of the Luofu taught him that exhaustion clouds judgment, so he values rest even if duty constantly tries to steal it away. Still, he often lingers awake, lost in thought, watching the departing starskiffs or quietly playing through old memories. When you have trouble sleeping, he never rushes you toward rest. Instead, he invites you to sit beside him, speaking in that calm, unhurried voice that makes even worries feel less urgent. He'll tell stories from his travels, amusing tales about old friends, or observations that seem pointless until you realize they've distracted you from your spiraling thoughts. If nightmares wake you, he simply draws you closer, one hand resting against your back. No lectures, no questions, no pressure. Just a steady presence, patient as moonlight, remaining awake a little longer so you don't have to face the darkness alone.
-
AVENTURINE
Sleep doesn't come easily to Aventurine. He spends so much of his life calculating odds, reading people, and preparing for every possible outcome that his mind rarely settles the moment his head touches the pillow. Even when he looks relaxed, there's usually a part of him still awake, still watching. When you can't sleep, he notices long before you say anything. Rather than pressing you for answers, he'll quietly draw your attention elsewhere, spinning stories, making harmless wagers about tomorrow, or asking questions he already knows don't need serious answers. It's easier to carry a burden when you're laughing a little. If anxiety keeps you awake, he'll lace his fingers through yours and remind you that not every uncertainty needs to be solved tonight. Beneath the charm and confidence is someone who understands fear far better than he lets on.
-
MYDEI
sleeps the way a warrior stands guard—never completely. Even when exhaustion finally drags him under, years of battle, prophecy, and surviving what should have killed him make rest feel more like a temporary ceasefire than true peace. He prefers your warmth close by, often keeping an arm around you without even realizing it. It's instinctive, like protecting something precious. When you struggle to sleep, his first instinct is action. He wants to fight the problem, defeat it, challenge it outright. But over time, he learns that not every battle can be won with strength. Instead, he stays beside you, listening more than speaking. His presence is solid and grounding, like an ancient stone wall weathering a storm. If nightmares wake you, he's immediately alert, pulling you against his chest before you've fully opened your eyes. He doesn't offer polished words or clever reassurances. He simply reminds you that you're here, alive, and safe. Sometimes he'll tell stories of Kremnos, of festivals, warriors, and fields of flowers waiting beyond hardship. His voice carries the certainty of someone who has stared death in the face countless times and kept walking. Sleep may evade him, but if it means standing watch over you through the night, Mydei considers that a battle worth winning.
-
PHAINON
sleeps as though he is standing watch over a dying flame. Even in rest, there is a quiet tension in him, the habit of someone who has carried hope through too many dark nights to ever set it down completely. He prefers open windows, cool air, and the faint scent of earth after rain. When sleep refuses to come, he doesn't ask what's wrong right away. Instead, he settles beside you with patient ease, speaking of distant wheat fields, old stories, and dreams of worlds yet to be built. His voice is warm and steady, never forcing comfort, only offering it. If nightmares wake you, he'll stay until dawn if needed. To him, no burden is too small when it's carried by someone he cares about.
-
ANAXAGORAS
sleeps reluctantly, as though rest is an argument he has yet to lose. Even when exhaustion finally catches up to him, books remain piled around his bed, papers covered in half-finished notes scattered across every available surface. More than once, he's fallen asleep while researching a question that refused to leave his mind. He prefers silence, dim lighting, and uninterrupted hours where thought can wander wherever it pleases. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately ask what's wrong. Instead, he begins talking—about paradoxes, ancient philosophies, absurd academic disputes, or whatever idea currently occupies his attention. Somehow, while trying to follow his reasoning or argue back, the weight on your mind starts to loosen. If sleep still refuses to come, he'll read aloud from one of his books, occasionally stopping to criticize the author's conclusions or propose a better answer himself. Every so often his gaze flickers toward you, checking whether you're still awake, though he'd deny doing so if asked. Once you finally drift off, he quietly returns to his notes. Hours later, long after everyone else is asleep, the faint scratch of a pen can still be heard as he chases another impossible question into the night.
ASHVEIL
sleeps lightly, the way old hunters do. One ear always tuned to the world around him, one hand never too far from his weapon. Years spent chasing criminals, debts, and ghosts have left him with the habit of waking at the slightest disturbance. He claims it's just part of the job, though the truth runs deeper than that. When sleep won't come, he doesn't pry. He'll simply settle nearby, nursing a cup of coffee gone cold hours ago or lazily flipping through old case files. Sometimes he'll tell you stories—not the glamorous kind about heroes saving the galaxy, but small ones. Lost dogs that found their way home. Missing people reunited with family. Ordinary victories that remind people the world isn't entirely cruel. If your thoughts keep spiraling, he'll listen without interruption, offering the occasional joke so terrible it earns an eye roll. He doesn't try to solve every problem. A detective knows some things just need time. And if nightmares wake you in the dark, you'll find him exactly where he was before, still keeping watch. He might grumble about lost sleep or send you an invoice for emotional support afterward, but neither would be serious. As long as you're awake and hurting, he won't be going anywhere. Not yet.
-
BLADE
doesn't sleep often. When he does, it comes in brief stretches between old memories and older scars. Most nights he's awake long before you are, sitting somewhere nearby with his sword within reach and his thoughts somewhere far away. Silence never seems to bother him. When sleep refuses to come for you, he notices before you say anything. He isn't good at comfort in the usual sense. He won't offer soft reassurances or tell you everything will be fine. Instead, he'll quietly make room beside him, wordlessly inviting you to stay. Sometimes he sharpens his blade. Sometimes he tends to old equipment. Sometimes he simply sits there in the dark. If nightmares wake you, his hand settles against yours before you can pull away from them completely. He understands what it means to be haunted. On the rare nights you manage to fall asleep against his shoulder, he remains perfectly still, as if afraid movement might disturb the fragile peace you've found. Only when your breathing finally evens out does he allow himself a moment of rest. And even then, one eye never fully closes.
TAGLIST | @vasheeradecls @yowhosthis @wvore @kawte679 @asakarai @pentofloem @mysticbolillo @thisstarisblue @grassanglass @jeffisfake @vallnal @chrxx6 @ithoughtthinks @jjuho-wwwondering @ilovehimekosm @evelynfushiguro @kittyliverpool @sweepincat @saikoosblog @rinyumii @commonerdoors2725 @dazlia @eternalconfluxexile @cycadsmenagerie @ellie6724 @shortnpanicking @aurorayork22 @bugzrcute @faunana @soberinla @starr1q @serebin @little-bing12 @dollyhrtzzs @howtowalk687 @jincngx @forcaze @bluedwyy @ryeoxuexii @itsleftcollectionfestw orld @purplelilac23 @pixel--gf @lentbe @ouist @robotrevnant @blossomvaneu @baguettedefontain @amberhearts-blog @anqelmeth @imcravingbubbletearn @xnoau @acyntite @giveyutasomelove @elizabethclouds @crimsonkarasutengu @they-themlock @saiiyama @jellyfishingmywaythrough @ecplise2864 @swansloves @hanussy2000 @souldeparted @notsoinvincible @skip-111 @iluv2dmenn @joexjtazuna @lowpoly-lizard @miffycait @ecliphia@crownohomo @sundaynumber1lover @friesaif @mitsurisfavv @heartsick-ly @sleepyditto
SLEEPING HABITS W/ HSR MEN🤎
HONKAI STAR RAIL | Dan Heng, Sunday, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Mydei, Phainon, Anaxagoras, Ashveill, Blade
[REQUESTED!♡] [DJINX!♡]
DAN HENG
sleeps lightly, never fully surrendering to rest. Years of exile, danger, and watchfulness left him accustomed to waking at the smallest sound. He prefers cool rooms, dim lighting, and the steady hum of the Express. When you struggle to sleep—whether from nightmares, anxiety, overthinking, or simple restlessness—he doesn't overwhelm with advice. Instead, he quietly stays beside you, reading while you settle down. One hand remains within reach if you want it. In either form he will always wrap his tail around your fingers lightly. He speaks in a low, even voice, recounting harmless observations from his travels until you thoughts slow. Only after you're asleep does he finally close his own eyes.
-
SUNDAY
sleeps far less than people realize. Years spent listening to the worries of others left him accustomed to late nights and restless thoughts of his own. He prefers quiet rooms, neatly arranged blankets, and the faint sound of music drifting in the background. When you struggle to sleep he never pushes for answers. Instead, he remains beside you, patient and attentive. One hand gently intertwines with yours if you seek comfort. He speaks in a soft, measured voice, sharing stories, memories, or simple observations until your mind begins to settle. Only once your breathing evens and sleep finally claims you does he allow himself to close his eyes as well.
-
WELT
doesn't sleep very deeply anymore. Not because he expects danger, but because after a lifetime of carrying responsibilities, part of him is always listening for the people he cares about. If you wake in the middle of the night, chances are he's awake too. Quietly reading in the dim light, glasses perched low on his nose as he turns another page. When you can't sleep, he never pushes. He'll simply set his book aside and make room for you against his shoulder. If you want to talk, he'll listen. If you don't, he won't press for answers. Silence has never made him uncomfortable. Sometimes he'll tell you stories about places you've never seen, old films from his home, or memories softened by time. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to pull your thoughts away from whatever is keeping them awake. And somehow, with the steady rhythm of his voice and the quiet certainty he carries, sleep never seems quite so far away.
-
SAMPO
claims he's excellent at sleeping. According to him, it's one of his many talents. In reality, he's usually the last one asleep and the first to notice when you're still awake. If you can't sleep, he'll start talking. Not about anything important. In fact, the more important the problem is, the less directly he'll address it. He'll tell ridiculous stories, make up outrageous business ventures, complain about people who definitely deserved to be scammed, and somehow have you smiling before you realize what he's doing. The whole time, he's watching you from the corner of his eye. Eventually his voice grows quieter, his jokes less frequent, until you're half asleep against him. Only then does he relax, an arm settling around you as if it ended up there by accident. When morning comes, he'll deny being sweet about any of it. But somehow, he's always there on the nights you need him most.
-
GEPARD
sleeps like someone who knows the city never truly rests. Even off duty, years of standing watch over Belobog make him a light sleeper, quick to wake at unusual sounds. He prefers quiet, cold rooms and often falls asleep later than he intends after finishing reports or checking that everything is in order. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately try to solve the problem. Instead, he stays beside you, patient and steady, letting you talk through whatever is weighing on your mind. If words don't come easily, that's fine too. He'll rest a hand over yours, gently tracing circles across your knuckles while speaking about simple things—flowers he's trying to grow, stories from patrol, songs Serval used to sing at home. His voice is calm and grounding, carrying the certainty that you're safe. If a nightmare wakes you, he'll be awake in seconds, pulling you close without hesitation. He won't leave until your breathing evens out and sleep finally finds you again.
-
JINGYUAN
sleeps surprisingly well when he finally allows himself to. Years of carrying the weight of the Luofu taught him that exhaustion clouds judgment, so he values rest even if duty constantly tries to steal it away. Still, he often lingers awake, lost in thought, watching the departing starskiffs or quietly playing through old memories. When you have trouble sleeping, he never rushes you toward rest. Instead, he invites you to sit beside him, speaking in that calm, unhurried voice that makes even worries feel less urgent. He'll tell stories from his travels, amusing tales about old friends, or observations that seem pointless until you realize they've distracted you from your spiraling thoughts. If nightmares wake you, he simply draws you closer, one hand resting against your back. No lectures, no questions, no pressure. Just a steady presence, patient as moonlight, remaining awake a little longer so you don't have to face the darkness alone.
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AVENTURINE
Sleep doesn't come easily to Aventurine. He spends so much of his life calculating odds, reading people, and preparing for every possible outcome that his mind rarely settles the moment his head touches the pillow. Even when he looks relaxed, there's usually a part of him still awake, still watching. When you can't sleep, he notices long before you say anything. Rather than pressing you for answers, he'll quietly draw your attention elsewhere, spinning stories, making harmless wagers about tomorrow, or asking questions he already knows don't need serious answers. It's easier to carry a burden when you're laughing a little. If anxiety keeps you awake, he'll lace his fingers through yours and remind you that not every uncertainty needs to be solved tonight. Beneath the charm and confidence is someone who understands fear far better than he lets on.
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MYDEI
sleeps the way a warrior stands guard—never completely. Even when exhaustion finally drags him under, years of battle, prophecy, and surviving what should have killed him make rest feel more like a temporary ceasefire than true peace. He prefers your warmth close by, often keeping an arm around you without even realizing it. It's instinctive, like protecting something precious. When you struggle to sleep, his first instinct is action. He wants to fight the problem, defeat it, challenge it outright. But over time, he learns that not every battle can be won with strength. Instead, he stays beside you, listening more than speaking. His presence is solid and grounding, like an ancient stone wall weathering a storm. If nightmares wake you, he's immediately alert, pulling you against his chest before you've fully opened your eyes. He doesn't offer polished words or clever reassurances. He simply reminds you that you're here, alive, and safe. Sometimes he'll tell stories of Kremnos, of festivals, warriors, and fields of flowers waiting beyond hardship. His voice carries the certainty of someone who has stared death in the face countless times and kept walking. Sleep may evade him, but if it means standing watch over you through the night, Mydei considers that a battle worth winning.
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PHAINON
sleeps as though he is standing watch over a dying flame. Even in rest, there is a quiet tension in him, the habit of someone who has carried hope through too many dark nights to ever set it down completely. He prefers open windows, cool air, and the faint scent of earth after rain. When sleep refuses to come, he doesn't ask what's wrong right away. Instead, he settles beside you with patient ease, speaking of distant wheat fields, old stories, and dreams of worlds yet to be built. His voice is warm and steady, never forcing comfort, only offering it. If nightmares wake you, he'll stay until dawn if needed. To him, no burden is too small when it's carried by someone he cares about.
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ANAXAGORAS
sleeps reluctantly, as though rest is an argument he has yet to lose. Even when exhaustion finally catches up to him, books remain piled around his bed, papers covered in half-finished notes scattered across every available surface. More than once, he's fallen asleep while researching a question that refused to leave his mind. He prefers silence, dim lighting, and uninterrupted hours where thought can wander wherever it pleases. When you can't sleep, he doesn't immediately ask what's wrong. Instead, he begins talking—about paradoxes, ancient philosophies, absurd academic disputes, or whatever idea currently occupies his attention. Somehow, while trying to follow his reasoning or argue back, the weight on your mind starts to loosen. If sleep still refuses to come, he'll read aloud from one of his books, occasionally stopping to criticize the author's conclusions or propose a better answer himself. Every so often his gaze flickers toward you, checking whether you're still awake, though he'd deny doing so if asked. Once you finally drift off, he quietly returns to his notes. Hours later, long after everyone else is asleep, the faint scratch of a pen can still be heard as he chases another impossible question into the night.
ASHVEIL
sleeps lightly, the way old hunters do. One ear always tuned to the world around him, one hand never too far from his weapon. Years spent chasing criminals, debts, and ghosts have left him with the habit of waking at the slightest disturbance. He claims it's just part of the job, though the truth runs deeper than that. When sleep won't come, he doesn't pry. He'll simply settle nearby, nursing a cup of coffee gone cold hours ago or lazily flipping through old case files. Sometimes he'll tell you stories—not the glamorous kind about heroes saving the galaxy, but small ones. Lost dogs that found their way home. Missing people reunited with family. Ordinary victories that remind people the world isn't entirely cruel. If your thoughts keep spiraling, he'll listen without interruption, offering the occasional joke so terrible it earns an eye roll. He doesn't try to solve every problem. A detective knows some things just need time. And if nightmares wake you in the dark, you'll find him exactly where he was before, still keeping watch. He might grumble about lost sleep or send you an invoice for emotional support afterward, but neither would be serious. As long as you're awake and hurting, he won't be going anywhere. Not yet.
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BLADE
doesn't sleep often. When he does, it comes in brief stretches between old memories and older scars. Most nights he's awake long before you are, sitting somewhere nearby with his sword within reach and his thoughts somewhere far away. Silence never seems to bother him. When sleep refuses to come for you, he notices before you say anything. He isn't good at comfort in the usual sense. He won't offer soft reassurances or tell you everything will be fine. Instead, he'll quietly make room beside him, wordlessly inviting you to stay. Sometimes he sharpens his blade. Sometimes he tends to old equipment. Sometimes he simply sits there in the dark. If nightmares wake you, his hand settles against yours before you can pull away from them completely. He understands what it means to be haunted. On the rare nights you manage to fall asleep against his shoulder, he remains perfectly still, as if afraid movement might disturb the fragile peace you've found. Only when your breathing finally evens out does he allow himself a moment of rest. And even then, one eye never fully closes.
STELLARON HUNTERS x OVERWATCH: Who Would They Main?
HONKAI STAR RAIL | Kafka, Blade, Silverwolf, Firefly
KAFKAඞ
I imagine she would play Widowmaker, she has the patience and skill to be a sniper aside from the asthetic similarities lol. Besides Widowmaker though, I imagine on some level she can relate to Domina too and likes the big strong dumb damage tanks like Ramattra and Zayra. But I also think she plays the least video games out of them all. She only hops on when Silverwolf and Firefly beg her to surprisingly carry. She plays on keyboard and is open to playing both ranked and unranked. With you? She would try her hardest to cap point or push the payload and but I don't think she would win.
SILVERWOLFඞ
Who are we kidding, she is Grandmaster rank. All through pure skill. She definitely plays Sombra Nd Dva and I can see her maining Ana and hating Mercy mains. She would say Ana requires skill and spam reports edaters and pocketing players. Every MVP and POTG is her. Her main duo is Firefly and she has Kafka buy her every cosmetic, that is if she hasn't already hacked the game to give her everything she wanted in lootboxes already. She plays on keyboard. With you? The game is over and won before it even starts. When the loading screen is done, the opposite team leaves out of fear when they see her name. It's okay, she has alts for a reason!
FIREFLYඞ
Forced to play by Silverwolf but eventually learned to love the game, she only plays unranked as ranked makes her too mad and she, like many of us can't handle a 3 day losing streak...ANYWAYS. I imagine she mains Mei, but she loves alot of the cast, such as: Ramattra, Bastion, Doomfist, Echo, Hazard, Juno, Orisa, Soilder, Winston, and Wrecking Ball. Firefly is a total jack of all trades. I think she plays Mei the most but her favorite character is Soujorn. I think they all can kind of relate to her in a way. She also has all cosmetics for her girls and asks Kafka to buy her skins to which Kafka happily supplies her with coins. She plays on controller. With you? Well, she learned from the best, so the game was hard fought and won. Playing video games with the love of her live and winning? She couldn't ask for more.
BLADEඞ
He plays to make Silverwolf happy. He also doesn't spend alot of time on the game but his mains are Ramattra, Reaper, Doomfist and Emre. He envies Genji and Hanzo mains because he can't quite grasp their characters and everytime he tries to learn he always gets diffed and by now has gave up. His favorite he doesn't play is Roadhog, they are both men of few words. His least favorite characters are definitely Mercy and Anran. Being able to revive? Not his speed. With you? He got spawn camped by the enemy Genji and he rage quit. You made sure to win the game though. He is currently banned for 6 days.
inspired by gaming w @slutla...
TAGLIST | @vasheeradecls @yowhosthis @wvore @kawte679 @asakarai @pentofloem @mysticbolillo @thisstarisblue @grassanglass @jeffisfake @vallnal @chrxx6 @ithoughtthinks @jjuho-wwwondering @ilovehimekosm @evelynfushiguro @kittyliverpool @sweepincat @saikoosblog @rinyumii @commonerdoors2725 @dazlia @eternalconfluxexile @cycadsmenagerie @ellie6724 @shortnpanicking @aurorayork22 @bugzrcute @faunana @soberinla @starr1q @serebin @little-bing12 @dollyhrtzzs @howtowalk687 @jincngx @forcaze @bluedwyy @ryeoxuexii @itsleftcollectionfestw orld @purplelilac23 @pixel--gf @lentbe @ouist @robotrevnant @blossomvaneu @baguettedefontain @amberhearts-blog @anqelmeth @imcravingbubbletearn @xnoau @acyntite @giveyutasomelove @elizabethclouds @crimsonkarasutengu @they-themlock @saiiyama @jellyfishingmywaythrough @ecplise2864 @swansloves @hanussy2000 @souldeparted @notsoinvincible @skip-111 @iluv2dmenn @joexjtazuna @lowpoly-lizard @miffycait @ecliphia@crownohomo @sundaynumber1lover @friesaif @mitsurisfavv @heartsick-ly @sleepyditto @kuramassss @ladygreyish @astxr15 @crayonstik @jadenaristotle @kaira35353 @iceychurr @wlwjoshua @fitakar @galagarts @hanako-h5 @aireeds @mersoliss @waiabita @lyambdaa @ttqui @leafl3ss @uhidekman @mqmmon @sunnydayml @tinyhologramphantom @hu3sitos @domiiniques @snugmutt @whateverthingsw @kimfrancinee @str1fesgirl @loryhn @acidsbeats @lmygoat @kwonthefire @urlocalsabito @cheriiiiii @universallystudentkitten @solarizxm @drieddcactus @lucidsei @julielovesnavyblue @starlitplumes @ellen-qq @lolbook @lolaof-thevalley @spirit12 @la-ila-la @faeriesblog @the-tired-potato-hani @anormalapheliosfan @alt-alune @phezzylex @plumpkie @keyzheart soulkissesst4r @wrios-milk @fureiart @creative--crisis @zyrexaels-stars @lixhizy @mikusaystransrights @trashlanternfish360 @nobloodonlycoffee @misuzue @kittzu @yaongxixi @simpingeverysecond @electro--storm @gr8jason @dontbother46 @m0bne @sunsettulip @violetesensou @cielsellsshells @p1xistixx @xixiliea @goldenstarlightabyss
TAGLIST 2 | @namelesswolfcatcake @tamatato @crystalkat6747 @unkownmaker @toastedlem0ns @sashimees @syrie-slays @anbylover3000 @tsuyustan @cosmo-cam @starryangxl @lulubelle-mochi @toyaism @k1-2-ur-h3art @sirkalen @unseensolaceprodigy @unseensolaceprodigy @lucynobody @kochoangel @tiredwakasa @enannyan
STELLARON HUNTERS x OVERWATCH: Who Would They Main?
HONKAI STAR RAIL | Kafka, Blade, Silverwolf, Firefly
KAFKAඞ
I imagine she would play Widowmaker, she has the patience and skill to be a sniper aside from the asthetic similarities lol. Besides Widowmaker though, I imagine on some level she can relate to Domina too and likes the big strong dumb damage tanks like Ramattra and Zayra. But I also think she plays the least video games out of them all. She only hops on when Silverwolf and Firefly beg her to surprisingly carry. She plays on keyboard and is open to playing both ranked and unranked. With you? She would try her hardest to cap point or push the payload and but I don't think she would win.
SILVERWOLFඞ
Who are we kidding, she is Grandmaster rank. All through pure skill. She definitely plays Sombra Nd Dva and I can see her maining Ana and hating Mercy mains. She would say Ana requires skill and spam reports edaters and pocketing players. Every MVP and POTG is her. Her main duo is Firefly and she has Kafka buy her every cosmetic, that is if she hasn't already hacked the game to give her everything she wanted in lootboxes already. She plays on keyboard. With you? The game is over and won before it even starts. When the loading screen is done, the opposite team leaves out of fear when they see her name. It's okay, she has alts for a reason!
FIREFLYඞ
Forced to play by Silverwolf but eventually learned to love the game, she only plays unranked as ranked makes her too mad and she, like many of us can't handle a 3 day losing streak...ANYWAYS. I imagine she mains Mei, but she loves alot of the cast, such as: Ramattra, Bastion, Doomfist, Echo, Hazard, Juno, Orisa, Soilder, Winston, and Wrecking Ball. Firefly is a total jack of all trades. I think she plays Mei the most but her favorite character is Soujorn. I think they all can kind of relate to her in a way. She also has all cosmetics for her girls and asks Kafka to buy her skins to which Kafka happily supplies her with coins. She plays on controller. With you? Well, she learned from the best, so the game was hard fought and won. Playing video games with the love of her live and winning? She couldn't ask for more.
BLADEඞ
He plays to make Silverwolf happy. He also doesn't spend alot of time on the game but his mains are Ramattra, Reaper, Doomfist and Emre. He envies Genji and Hanzo mains because he can't quite grasp their characters and everytime he tries to learn he always gets diffed and by now has gave up. His favorite he doesn't play is Roadhog, they are both men of few words. His least favorite characters are definitely Mercy and Anran. Being able to revive? Not his speed. With you? He got spawn camped by the enemy Genji and he rage quit. You made sure to win the game though. He is currently banned for 6 days.
inspired by gaming w @slutla...
TAGLIST | @vasheeradecls @yowhosthis @wvore @kawte679 @asakarai @pentofloem @mysticbolillo @thisstarisblue @grassanglass @jeffisfake @vallnal @chrxx6 @ithoughtthinks @jjuho-wwwondering @ilovehimekosm @evelynfushiguro @kittyliverpool @sweepincat @saikoosblog @rinyumii @commonerdoors2725 @dazlia @eternalconfluxexile @cycadsmenagerie @ellie6724 @shortnpanicking @aurorayork22 @bugzrcute @faunana @soberinla @starr1q @serebin @little-bing12 @dollyhrtzzs @howtowalk687 @jincngx @forcaze @bluedwyy @ryeoxuexii @itsleftcollectionfestw orld @purplelilac23 @pixel--gf @lentbe @ouist @robotrevnant @blossomvaneu @baguettedefontain @amberhearts-blog @anqelmeth @imcravingbubbletearn @xnoau @acyntite @giveyutasomelove @elizabethclouds @crimsonkarasutengu @they-themlock @saiiyama @jellyfishingmywaythrough @ecplise2864 @swansloves @hanussy2000 @souldeparted @notsoinvincible @skip-111 @iluv2dmenn @joexjtazuna @lowpoly-lizard @miffycait @ecliphia@crownohomo @sundaynumber1lover @friesaif @mitsurisfavv @heartsick-ly @sleepyditto @kuramassss @ladygreyish @astxr15 @crayonstik @jadenaristotle @kaira35353 @iceychurr @wlwjoshua @fitakar @galagarts @hanako-h5 @aireeds @mersoliss @waiabita @lyambdaa @ttqui @leafl3ss @uhidekman @mqmmon @sunnydayml @tinyhologramphantom @hu3sitos @domiiniques @snugmutt @whateverthingsw @kimfrancinee @str1fesgirl @loryhn @acidsbeats @lmygoat @kwonthefire @urlocalsabito @cheriiiiii @universallystudentkitten @solarizxm @drieddcactus @lucidsei @julielovesnavyblue @starlitplumes @ellen-qq @lolbook @lolaof-thevalley @spirit12 @la-ila-la @faeriesblog @the-tired-potato-hani @anormalapheliosfan @alt-alune @phezzylex @plumpkie @keyzheart soulkissesst4r @wrios-milk @fureiart @creative--crisis @zyrexaels-stars @lixhizy @mikusaystransrights @trashlanternfish360 @nobloodonlycoffee @misuzue @kittzu @yaongxixi @simpingeverysecond @electro--storm @gr8jason @dontbother46 @m0bne @sunsettulip @violetesensou @cielsellsshells @p1xistixx @xixiliea @goldenstarlightabyss
I love my dress up darling omg
STELLARON HUNTERS x OVERWATCH: Who Would They Main?
HONKAI STAR RAIL | Kafka, Blade, Silverwolf, Firefly
KAFKAඞ
I imagine she would play Widowmaker, she has the patience and skill to be a sniper aside from the asthetic similarities lol. Besides Widowmaker though, I imagine on some level she can relate to Domina too and likes the big strong dumb damage tanks like Ramattra and Zayra. But I also think she plays the least video games out of them all. She only hops on when Silverwolf and Firefly beg her to surprisingly carry. She plays on keyboard and is open to playing both ranked and unranked. With you? She would try her hardest to cap point or push the payload and but I don't think she would win.
SILVERWOLFඞ
Who are we kidding, she is Grandmaster rank. All through pure skill. She definitely plays Sombra Nd Dva and I can see her maining Ana and hating Mercy mains. She would say Ana requires skill and spam reports edaters and pocketing players. Every MVP and POTG is her. Her main duo is Firefly and she has Kafka buy her every cosmetic, that is if she hasn't already hacked the game to give her everything she wanted in lootboxes already. She plays on keyboard. With you? The game is over and won before it even starts. When the loading screen is done, the opposite team leaves out of fear when they see her name. It's okay, she has alts for a reason!
FIREFLYඞ
Forced to play by Silverwolf but eventually learned to love the game, she only plays unranked as ranked makes her too mad and she, like many of us can't handle a 3 day losing streak...ANYWAYS. I imagine she mains Mei, but she loves alot of the cast, such as: Ramattra, Bastion, Doomfist, Echo, Hazard, Juno, Orisa, Soilder, Winston, and Wrecking Ball. Firefly is a total jack of all trades. I think she plays Mei the most but her favorite character is Soujorn. I think they all can kind of relate to her in a way. She also has all cosmetics for her girls and asks Kafka to buy her skins to which Kafka happily supplies her with coins. She plays on controller. With you? Well, she learned from the best, so the game was hard fought and won. Playing video games with the love of her live and winning? She couldn't ask for more.
BLADEඞ
He plays to make Silverwolf happy. He also doesn't spend alot of time on the game but his mains are Ramattra, Reaper, Doomfist and Emre. He envies Genji and Hanzo mains because he can't quite grasp their characters and everytime he tries to learn he always gets diffed and by now has gave up. His favorite he doesn't play is Roadhog, they are both men of few words. His least favorite characters are definitely Mercy and Anran. Being able to revive? Not his speed. With you? He got spawn camped by the enemy Genji and he rage quit. You made sure to win the game though. He is currently banned for 6 days.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 『 AHA 』
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 『 ENA 』
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 『 LAN 』
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 『 NANOOK 』
【 F2U 】 ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏ CREDITS ARE MANDATORY 𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ ㅤㅤㅤ 𓇼 . 〰⋆｡˚ ──┈≽ reblog & like 2 use 𓈒𓏸.°•
Aeon dividers, Idk.
The Lan ones are slightly based on @uzmacchiato's chalky rainbow dividers but they were a gift(?) for @kirokumiku anyway hahaha — during the Lan theme. The others just randomly spawned from my head lmao
I'm particularly protective of my dividers (especially these) so far cuz a bunch of the elements are handdrawn (namely the Lan ones). Also I'd love to see what ppl use these in hehehe. I doubt but who knows.
I already started making the Xipe & Mythus dividers but finding the resources I want is so hard so damn, hope y'all enjoy these ones for now. Hopefully there will be a follow up but Idk. We'll see.
@graveszn (did you have Aha as an f/o or am I crazy. I remember someone does but I don't remember who)
wait lowk these r tuff asf
read "I like you" with the express members (i really like how you write caelus and stelle!) and loved it!
ik req are closed but i was wondering if you'd also consider doing Himeko and Welt? (ofc, reader is also an older adult in this context. Fellow teacher? TA? General school staff?)
no pressure ofc! this ask was mostly me spitballing and gushing. ty for your work (esp for the girls, its hard to find x reader for them, so i rlly appreciate it)!
omggg AAAA Thank youuu, originally I wanted to add sparkle n sparxie and welt n himkeo But I wasn't sure how to incorporate them as staff or of that would be weird??? or something but yesss this has been floating around in my head for a while
Prompt Idea: How do the HSR characters help get you to sleep? Obvi take it or don't, no pressure ok ilu byeeeee (Dan Heng pls let me rest)
working on this right now♡
I should specify Jane Doe from Zenless Zone Zero LMAO
im so sorryyyy im only comfortable writing for HSR rn 🫣
