#and that doesn’t just apply to joy and sadness

[whatsfourteenupto]

Fourteen's in the TARDIS rn in a fit of rage, screaming and banging on the walls of a room she made them specifically for this purpose

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Limited edition- H.HJ

This is my present to beautiful @jehhskz. Happy birthday, Je!!! I hope you have a happy day, full of love and joy and surrounded by the most wonderful things. I wish you a lot of health, success and many more years of life. I truly love yapping about skz with you. Lova ya 🎂😚💜

Word count: 1.4k

No warnings

Alexa, play Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex

Hyunjin comes back from Japan the night before your birthday, tossing his suitcase aside like it means nothing compared to seeing you again.

“I brought you something”, he says, pulling a small gift bag from his hoodie pocket with a dramatic little wink, “Happy early birthday, baby”. 

You peer inside to find six delicate tubes of lip balm in soft pastel colors, each labeled in delicate Japanese script. 

You arch a brow, “You got me… lip balm?”

“I got you flavored lip balm”, he says proudly,  “Limited edition. Special just like you”.

You laugh, touched and amused at the same time, “Are you calling me dry lipped?”

“I’m calling you kissable”, he teases, and then adds with a wink, “And  now conveniently flavored”.

You scoff, but you’re already unscrewing the cap of the first one. 

Hyunjin settles beside you on the couch, impossibly close, “Let’s test them. You want me to tell you how they taste?”

 “No”, he says, lips curving into mischief,  “I want you to put them on… and I will tell you”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse jumps a little, “Fine”

You apply the first one— a soft pink shade tube labeled Peach Mochi. And then, you press your finger lightly to your lips, brushing it against his bottom lip. He flinches slightly, caught off guard.

“That’s cheating”,  he says pouting,  “I need the real thing”.

You look at him, “Then come and get it”.

His lips brush yours before you can say anything else. Soft and careful at first— just testing. Then deeper and slower, his thumb grazing your jaw as he pulls you closer.

When he pulls back, he licks his lips and exhales a little laugh, “Tastes like sunshine”, he murmurs. “Like… waking up to you in the morning. When you are bare faced and your hair is a bird nest. It’s warm. Soft. The kind of kiss that makes me want to stay in bed forever”

Your chest tightens just a little. He is always so… poetic, breathtaking.

You reach for the next one— something pale lavender named Lavender Milk. You apply it carefully this time, but before you can lift your hand to his lips again, he catches your wrist.

“No hands”, he says, “Only lips”.

You lean in, and he meets you halfway. This kiss is gentler this time. You feel his hand settle on your hip, squeezing it a little. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps the tip of his nose pressed to yours, breathing you in. 

“That one feels like kissing you when you’re sad”, he says quietly, “Like I’d do anything to calm you down. Just the two of us, in a quiet room with your head on my chest. Safe”.

You feel your throat go dry, “You’re too good at this.”

He just smiles and nudges the third tube toward you— a coral rose labeled Strawberry Stardust. You swipe it on, and this time, you don’t even wait. You pull him in and press your lips to his. He kisses you back eagerly, mouth parting just enough to catch your lower lip.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, “That one? That’s the kind of kiss we share when we’re laughing too hard to breathe”, he says. “Like kissing you in the kitchen while we’re cooking, or in the rain because we missed the umbrella. It’s… bold, electric”.

You can’t stop the blush that blooms on your cheeks as his words hit your ears.

The next one is darker, a deep red— Black Cherry. You twist off the cap and swipe it on slowly, already dizzy from the attention in his eyes. When your lips touch this time, there’s no teasing. Just heat. The kiss is deeper. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, keeping you closer.

“That…”, he breathes against your lips, “Tastes like kissing you when I miss you so bad it hurts. Like late nights, long distance phone calls, and me thinking about you until I fall asleep. The desperation of not having you for a long time”.

He kisses you again, proving what he just said.

You don’t even realize your fingers are shaking when you reach for the next balm— a cool baby blue named Vanilla Frosting. You try to act unbothered after the last one, but he sees through it. He’s already leaning in before you can think twice. 

This kiss is cool at first, then warm. The contrast of the icy balm melting into something slow and smooth. He holds your face in both hands this time.

“It’s soft”, he says after, his voice husky. “Melts before you even notice it. Like kissing you in the middle of something chaotic and somehow, you’re the only calm part. Like the first time we kissed. When I wasn’t sure if I should. When I was terrified and nervous and falling all at once. But your kiss calmed me down. It reassured me that I was in the right place, at the right time— with the right person”.

Your lips part, your eyes fill with water. He kisses you again. You sigh into him, eyes closing gently. But there’s one balm left— Velvet Honey, wrapped in a light yellow tube.

The moment you both touch lips, Hyunjin’s whole face softens. He tugs you into his lap like you’re delicate, like you’d break at any time. Like he has all the time in the world to taste you.

"This one’s cozy” he whispers, “Like kissing when we’re wrapped in blankets and half asleep. Like the tenderness between dreaming and waking. A sweet, lazy, forever kind of love.”

He leans his forehead against yours to rest but you take his lips on your— soft and unflavored this time.

“Which one was your favorite?”, you whisper. 

He laughs against your skin, “None of them”.

 You blink, “What?” 

“They were all missing one thing”, he tilts your chin up, “You. Just you. No flavor, no gloss. Just your taste”.

And when he kisses you again— bare lips on bare lips— you finally understand what he meant. 

After the last kiss, Hyunjin doesn’t pull away. He stays close, as his thumb runs absently across your cheekbone, like he’s memorizing you all over again.

Then he murmurs, almost too low to hear, “You figured it out yet, baby?”

Your brows furrow, “Figured what out?”

He shifts just enough to look at you fully. “They weren’t just birthday gifts”, he says. “They were kind of my way of saying I missed you”.

You tilt your head lightly.

“I didn’t know how to say it in a way that could hold all the weight of what I felt inside”, he continues, eyes dropping for a second. “You know how tour stuff always ends up swallowing me whole. But after spending the whole day smiling for cameras and talking in interviews, every night I’d be in a hotel room thinking about you. And the kisses and cuddles I wasn’t getting”

You glance down at the lip balms again:

Peach Mochi: for the sleepy mornings.

Lavender Milk: for when you cry and he holds you.

Strawberry Stardust:  for the reckless moments.

Black Cherry: for the ache of distance.

Vanilla Frosting: for being each other’s safe place.

Velvet Honey: for the homecoming.

Your throat tightens with a sudden wave of emotion. “They’re all my favorite”, you say, “Because they’re all about us”.

You lean forward and kiss him again. But not for a taste test, not for fun, just because you have to. Because the kind of love you share builds up in your chest until it spills out.

He kisses you back with a hum and pulls you, guiding you gently until you’re curled up against him on the couch with your legs tangled and your cheek resting over his heart.

And in that silence, you feel it— the truth of all the little things he couldn’t say but showed. “I missed you too”, you whisper, fingers gently tracing circles against his waistline, “So much”. 

He presses his lips to the crown of your head.“Then let me stay like this. As long as you’ll let me. I don’t need anything else. Just home… just you”.

You hum against his chest, barely awake now, the soft sweetness of his lips still lingering on yours. You fall asleep like that, wrapped in the quiet kind of love— the one that doesn’t need big gestures or loud words, just a few flavored kisses and the boy who, by coming home from tour, brought your sense of home back to you.

Comment in any post if you want to be added to the taglist :)

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere

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[enflixx]

Letters from Stanford - Jake Sim

summary: You and Jake always planned to go to college together at University of Melbourne. When acceptance letters arrive, joy fills the air… until a secret Stanford letter changes everything. As summer passes, love is tested, truths unravel, and promises are made with trembling hands. When the day finally comes to say goodbye, distance becomes your new reality, but love doesn’t leave so easily.

genre: angst, just a little fluff

warnings: kisses throughout the fic

word count: 3,323

You were sitting cross-legged at the bottom of Jake’s bedroom floor, controllers in hand, and eyes locked on the TV screen. The two of you had been building a massive lake house in Minecraft for the past hour, trying to distract yourselves from the anxiety gnawing at your insides.

Jake’s room was dimly lit, except for the glow of the screen and the fairy lights hanging lazily above his bed. His knee was bouncing. He hadn't stopped fidgeting for the past ten minutes.

“Okay,” he said suddenly, glancing at the clock. 6:59 PM. “It’s almost time.”

You dropped your controller, heart thudding. “Don’t say that.”

Jake scrambled off the floor and flopped onto the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come on. We said we’d do this together.”

You joined him, your shoulder brushing his as you both grabbed your phones. The moment the clock struck 7:00 PM, both your devices buzzed at once.

Jake sucked in a breath. “Ready?”

You nodded, your fingers trembling as you hovered over the “View Decision” button.

“Three,” he said.

“Two,” you whispered.

“One.”

You both tapped your screens.

University of Melbourne: Accepted.

Jake let out a choked sound next to you. “I got in—wait—you too?”

You turned your screen toward him with a breathless laugh. “I got in! OMG I got in!”

Jake grabbed your free hand and pulled you into the tightest hug, both of you nearly falling back against the pillows in a tangle of limbs and joy.

“We did it!” he shouted. “OMG, we actually did it!”

You were both laughing, spinning in your own little whirlwind of excitement. He kissed your cheek, your nose, your forehead, completely overflowing with joy.

“We’re going to Melbourne!” he grinned, forehead pressed to yours. “Together.”

“Together,” you echoed, barely believing it yourself.

Then Jake hopped off the bed, still grinning. “Hold that thought. I need to pee or I’m gonna explode.”

You laughed and nodded, watching him disappear into the hallway.

The door clicked shut.

You turned back to your phone, thumb hovering over the unopened Stanford email sitting quietly beneath the one from Melbourne.

You hesitated. Then tapped it.

Your heart thudded as you clicked “View Decision.”

Congratulations…

The word blurred for a second as your vision went watery. You blinked, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Stanford.

You hadn’t thought you’d get in. You’d applied on a whim, just to see.

And now here it was, real and glowing in front of you. A future you’d never seriously planned for now opened like a door you hadn’t realized was unlocked.

Your eyes welled with tears. Not sad ones, not exactly. Just... big ones. The kind that came when the world shifted a little under your feet.

Suddenly you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

You snapped out of it and quickly swiped the tab closed, locking your phone and tossing it aside just as Jake returned.

“Miss me?” he joked, flopping back down beside you.

You forced a smile, chest still tight. “Always.”

He leaned into you, grabbing your hand again. “So, what do we do first? Start looking at apartments? I already bookmarked this tiny studio near campus with the biggest kitchen ever .”

You laughed, letting him talk about your shared future, your heart splitting in two. One part still with him. The other already halfway across the world, in California.

The summer passed in a blur of travel plans, shopping lists, visa applications. Jake was so excited, always talking about your apartment, your future, the way you’d decorate with little succulents and string lights. You smiled, nodded, made Pinterest boards with him.

But at night, you stared at the Stanford portal, wondering what it meant to choose something he wasn’t part of.

One warm July afternoon, Jake surprised you with dinner reservations at a cozy Australian-themed diner “to get a real taste of Aussie life,” he’d said with a grin that made your heart flip.

The diner smelled like woodsmoke and grilled meat, a haze of barbecue spice hanging in the air as the late July sun filtered through the tall windows. You and Jake sat across from each other in a vinyl booth, the table between you cluttered with half-unwrapped sliders, charred corn, and paper baskets of fries dusted with pink sea salt. Somewhere nearby, a child was laughing over a spilled milkshake, and the sizzle of meat on the open grill played like background music to a summer evening that felt too big to hold in your chest.

Jake reached for a fry, eyes glowing with quiet excitement. “Okay, so… don’t kill me,” he said, trying and failing not to grin. “I did a thing.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Please tell me you didn’t try to book our flights without me again.”

“No,” he laughed. “Um.. worse.”

He slid his phone across the table. The screen was lit up with a listing, the apartment. Your apartment. The one you’d found during a late-night spiral of Pinterest boards and real estate blogs. The one with exposed brick and tall windows and a kitchen that made your breath catch the first time you saw it. Big, sunlit, clean counters, even a little breakfast island with hanging lights overhead.

“You’re kidding,” you whispered, leaning in.

“I made an offer,” he said. “And… they accepted. If we want it, it’s ours.”

You blinked at the screen. The pictures hadn’t changed, but somehow they felt sharper now, more real. The wide kitchen, all open shelving and clean lines, looked like the kind of place people filmed romantic comedies in. You could see the two of you in it, Jake cooking in the mornings in his ridiculous pajama pants, you dancing barefoot to some awful playlist while coffee brewed.

You looked up at him. “Jake…”

“I know I should’ve asked,” he said quickly. “I just… I saw it again and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That kitchen, the big window in the bedroom, the campus just down the street. It felt like us, you know?”

You sat back slowly, heart full and aching all at once.

“I just thought it could be home,” he added, voice softer now. “Our first perfect one.”

You didn’t speak right away.

You stared at the image. The bright white cabinets. The tall pantry. The way the light poured through the glass every morning.

You wanted it.

God, you wanted it so so much.

But not as much as you wanted to stop time. Not as much as you wanted to silence that quiet voice that had been growing louder since Stanford sent that email.

“Maybe…” you began, choosing your words carefully, gently. “Maybe we should look a bit more. Just to be sure. It’s a big decision.”

Jake blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He nodded quickly, lips pressing together in a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right. No need to rush.”

You reached for your drink to avoid the way his gaze searched your face. “Exactly. We’ve got time.”

He leaned back, tried to laugh. “Honestly, we might even find something with a bigger balcony. Or even a bathtub. Who knows?”

You nodded, the fry in your hand going cold.

The moment passed, at least on the surface. He picked up his burger again, and you made a joke about fairy bread being the pinnacle of Australian cuisine. The two of you slipped back into the rhythm of laughing, dreaming, talking about color schemes and who would be in charge of dishes. But beneath it all, the dream had shifted. The apartment was perfect. But for the first time, you weren’t sure if perfect was enough.

It was late afternoon, the golden sun filtering through the window and casting long shadows across your bedroom. Boxes were everywhere, half-packed and labeled in your handwriting. A quiet playlist hummed in the background while the two of you worked side by side, sorting through his books, folding clothes, and deciding what made the cut for Melbourne.

You were kneeling beside the desk, packing paperbacks into a box labeled DO NOT BEND when Jake, searching for packing tape, reached over and grabbed a slim red folder tucked behind a lamp.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked casually, flipping it open before you could stop him. His voice shifted mid-sentence, growing still. “Stanford?”

Your hands froze around a copy of The Secret of Us. The air thinned.

“Jake—”

“You applied to Stanford?” he asked again, slower this time, like he was trying to make sense of the words.

You sat back on your heels, throat dry. “I... yeah, i did.”

He looked at the folder again, then at you. “You got in?”

You nodded, barely.

A beat passed. Jake blinked, his jaw tightening, then loosening like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel. He let out a short breath and took a small step back, the folder hanging limply in his hand. “When?”

You couldn’t look at him. “Same day as Melbourne.”

Silence. The kind that buzzes in your ears and makes your heart ache.

“And you didn’t tell me?” His voice was quieter now. Not angry, just... hurt. In total disbelief.

“I didn’t know how,” you whispered, fidgetting at the worn edges of the carpet. “I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

“Ruin what?” he said, then laughed short and humorless. “Us?”

You looked up. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to think I’d just get up and leave.”

“But you didn’t even give me the chance to be proud of you,” he admitted. “You didn’t even let me in at all.”

You stood slowly, heart racing, words stuck in your throat. “I wasn’t going to go,” you said. “I swear, Jake. We planned this, and I meant it. I just... I needed time to figure it out.”

Jake shook his head, eyes scanning the floor around you like he was trying to ground himself. “You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I was so scared.”

He looked at you then, really looked past the guilt, past the secrets. There was hurt in his eyes, yes, but something softer, too. A flicker of understanding.

“I wish you trusted me with this,” he said, voice low. “But... I get why you didn’t.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, slowly. “You should go.”

Your heart cracked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said, finally smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You got into Stanford. That’s huge. I’d never want to hold you back.”

“But…Jake—”

“I want you to go,” he repeated, gently this time. “Even if it’s the last thing I want.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until Jake filled the space between you in two steps and pulled you into his chest like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You clutched the front of his shirt, burying your face into the curve of his neck. “I didn’t want to lose you,” you choked out.

“You’re not,” he whispered, but his voice cracked. “God, you’re not.”

But it felt like you both were anyway.

His arms were wrapped around you, so tight it almost hurt, and still it didn’t feel close enough. You felt his chest hitch beneath your palms, his breath stuttering as silent tears spilled down his cheeks and into your hair.

“I hate this,” he said, his voice muffled in your shoulder. “I hate that I’m saying this.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face, his eyes red-rimmed and shining. “Then don’t. Tell me to stay. Tell me that we deserve that apartment together”

He stared at you, lips parted, like he wanted to. Like the words were right there on his tongue. But instead, he shook his head slowly, heartbreak carved into every line of his face. “I can’t. I love you too much to ask you to give up on something like this.”

A sob escaped before you could stop it. “I don’t want to go without you.”

Jake cupped your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. “You won’t be without me,” he whispered. “I’ll be there in every facetime call. Every late-night text. Every time you drink coffee and think it’s crap without me there to make it right.”

You laughed through the tears, and then he kissed you. Slow, aching, like a promise and a goodbye all at once. You kissed him back with everything you couldn’t say, everything you weren’t ready to lose.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless and trembling, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. We’ll find our way back.”

You nodded, eyes closed. “You and me, right?”

His arms tightened around you, like he could still protect this fragile version of the future. “Always.”

He didn’t speak to you for two days.

No texts. No calls. No shared playlists or silly memes. Just a hollow silence that made your heart pound every time your phone lit up, just to close it every time it wasn’t him.

Then, just after sunset on the second day, your phone buzzed.

Ring Doorbell: Someone is at your front door.

You opened the app instinctively, and there he was, Jake, standing on your porch in a wrinkled hoodie and basketball shorts, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes were bloodshot red. Not just tired, but swollen, rimmed with tears, and haunted.

Your heart seized.

You rushed downstairs and opened the door.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he should be here. Like maybe this was a mistake. Then his face crumpled.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, and his voice cracked like glass.

You stepped forward without thinking, wrapping your arms around him before the rest of his words could fall apart.

“Jake…”

He held onto you like he was drowning. “I tried to be okay. I really did. I thought maybe I could just… move on, pretend we’re still going together. But I can’t. I’m so fucking proud of you, but I don’t know how to be happy when it feels like I’m losing you.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Then don’t let me go,” you whispered. “Tell me to stay. I will.”

He blinked at you, tears spilling silently over his cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” you said, chest aching. “I’ll stay. Melbourne was always the plan. We were the plan.”

Jake shook his head. ��No,” he said, voice soft but firm. “You have to go. Please go.”

“Jake—”

“No,” he interrupted, brushing the hair gently from your face. “You got into Stanford. You earned that. You don’t give up a life-changing opportunity because some dumb boy can’t keep it together for a few months.”

“You’re not some dumb boy,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly, but his eyes were still sad. “And you’re not some girl who settles for a smaller school for someone else. You’ve always been more than that. You have to go.”

You stood there for a long moment, forehead pressed to his, your tears falling freely now too.

Eventually, you stepped back and took his hand. “Come inside?”

He nodded, and you led him through the door, into the quiet warmth of your house.

You sat together on the couch, knees pulled up, wrapped in an old shared blanket that smelled like his cologne and dryer sheets. He rested his head on your shoulder, and you stroked your fingers through his hair like you always did when he couldn’t sleep.

“I hate that we have to do this,” he mumbled. “The distance.”

“I know,” you said.

“But we’ll make it work, right?” he asked, more like a plea than a promise.

“We’ll try,” you whispered. “We’ll call every night. We’ll visit. We’ll find ways to stay close, even when we’re far.”

His arms tightened around you. “What if it’s not enough?”

“Then we try harder,” you replied, kissing the top of his head. “Or we wait. Or we fall apart and find our way back. But I’m not giving up on us, Jake. Not now.”

Neither of you had all the answers. Maybe you never would. But in that quiet moment on the couch, your hearts cracked but still beating in sync, you held each other like maybe, just maybe, love could stretch across the oceans and time zones.

Like maybe, it would be enough.

The airport was too quiet for what your heart was doing.

You stood with Jake in the check-in line, the weight of your suitcase nothing compared to the weight pressing on your chest. He held your hand like it was the last lifeline he had, like if he let go, he’d lose you completely.

Neither of you spoke much. There wasn’t anything left to say that hadn’t already been whispered between your tangled sheets, or mumbled on long drives with the windows down, or even scribbled into notes hidden in each other’s bags.

But that didn’t stop the tears.

Yours came in slow, steady streams down your cheeks. His were silent, but his lips trembled every time you squeezed his hand tighter. People passed around you, families saying goodbyes, kids running in circles, airport staff calling for final check-ins, but it all felt so far away. Like the world was moving on and you were frozen in this endless moment.

“We still have time,” he murmured, though the line inched forward, traitorous.

“Barely.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like your house, like him, like safety.

“I hate this,” you whispered.

“I know.”

He kissed your temple. “But I’m proud of you. So proud. I need you to remember that.”

You nodded, biting your lip so hard it almost bled.

When you reached the counter, your hands shook as you handed over your passport. Jake stood beside you the whole time, his fingers trailing down your arm like he was memorizing every inch. The agent smiled politely, completely unaware of the heartbreak unfolding across the glossy countertop.

As you stepped away, the intercom crackled to life.

“Final boarding call for Flight 127 to San Francisco. All remaining passengers, please proceed to Gate 7.”

Your body turned toward the gate, but your heart stayed behind.

Jake pulled you into one last hug, full and trembling. You felt his tears finally fall, warm against your neck.

“This isn’t goodbye,” you whispered, but it cracked as you said it.

“It feels like one,” he choked out.

“I’ll come back in December. I pinky promise.”

“I’ll wait,” he said, holding you like he’d never get to again. “I’ll wait for however long it takes.”

You pulled back just enough to kiss him once, twice, and again like you could kiss the goodbye out of him. He smiled, for your sake, even though his lips were shaking.

“Go,” he said softly, eyes red. “Before I lose my mind.”

You took one step back. Then another. You didn’t want to look away, but you knew if you didn’t go now, you never would.

So you turned.

And you walked.

And you didn’t look back.

But Jake did.

He watched you until the very last second, until you were out of sight, until the boarding gate swallowed you whole.

And then he broke.

His body crumpled into a seat by the window, hands over his face as sobs tore out of him, raw and relentless. Strangers passed by, but none of them saw him. None of them knew the girl he loved just left for another continent, or how he’d told her to chase her dreams even if it meant tearing himself apart.

He’d been brave for you.

But now, all alone in that airport, he cried like he’d never stop.

Because he loved you that much.

[tarotwithavi]

Common Manifestation Mistakes & How to Fix Them

Manifestation is a powerful tool, but many people unknowingly block their desires by making small mistakes. If you feel like your manifestations are taking too long or not working at all, it’s not because the universe isn’t listening it’s likely that something in your approach needs to shift.

1. Focusing on Lack Instead of Abundance

One of the biggest reasons manifestations don’t come true is because people focus too much on what they don’t have. When you constantly think, “I need money” or “I really want love in my life”, your energy is centered around lack. The universe responds to your vibration, so when you focus on what’s missing, you attract more of that emptiness.

How to fix it: Instead of thinking about what you don’t have, shift your focus to abundance. Act as if your desire is already on its way. If you’re manifesting financial success, start feeling abundant even before the money arrives. Express gratitude for what you already have, and trust that more is coming.

2. Not Taking Inspired Action

Many people believe manifestation is just about thinking positively and waiting for magic to happen. While mindset is important, action is equally necessary. If you want to manifest a new job, but you never apply for one, the universe has no way to bring it to you.

How to fix it: Manifestation works best when you meet the universe halfway. Take small, inspired actions toward your goals. If you’re manifesting love, work on self-love and put yourself in situations where you can meet like-minded people. If you’re manifesting success, develop skills and seek out opportunities that align with your vision.

3. Letting Doubt and Negative Thoughts Take Over

Doubt is one of the biggest blockers of manifestation. If you set an intention but constantly think, “What if this doesn’t work?” or “Maybe I’m not lucky enough”, you are sending mixed signals to the universe.

How to fix it: Reprogram your mind with positive affirmations. Whenever a doubtful thought arises, counter it with something positive. Instead of saying, “What if my manifestation never comes?”, say, “What if it happens even better than I imagined?” Faith and belief are key in the manifestation process.

4. Being Impatient and Checking Too Often

Many people get frustrated when they don’t see instant results. They keep asking, “Where is my manifestation?” and constantly look for signs. This energy of impatience actually pushes the manifestation away because it shows a lack of trust in the universe.

How to fix it: Trust that your desire is on its way, even if you don’t see immediate results. Let go of the need to control when and how it will happen. The universe has perfect timing, and often, things are aligning behind the scenes before they manifest in your reality.

5. Manifesting from a Low-Vibrational State

Your emotional state plays a big role in manifestation. If you try to manifest while feeling sad, anxious, or frustrated, your energy is not aligned with what you want. You end up attracting more situations that match those low emotions.

How to fix it: Before setting an intention, raise your vibration. Do things that make you feel happy and aligned, such as listening to uplifting music, spending time in nature, practicing gratitude, or meditating. Manifestation works best when you are in a state of joy and trust.

6. Being Too Attached to a Specific Outcome

Sometimes, people get too fixated on a very specific outcome, which limits the universe’s ability to bring them something even better. For example, someone might be manifesting a specific job at a specific company, but the universe may have an even better opportunity waiting for them.

How to fix it: Be open to different possibilities. Instead of saying, “I want this exact job”, say, “I attract the perfect career opportunity that aligns with my highest good.” When you trust the universe’s plan, you allow better things to flow into your life.

7. Forgetting to Practice Gratitude

A lot of people focus so much on what they want that they forget to appreciate what they already have. This creates a sense of dissatisfaction, which lowers your vibration and slows down manifestation.

How to fix it: Make gratitude a daily habit. Every morning or before bed, take a moment to acknowledge the blessings in your life. The more grateful you are, the more the universe gives you to be grateful for.

[live-laugh-legolas]

FOR UR FELLOWSHIP REQUEST THING maybe the fellowship with an depressed reader? like how each of them would treat the reader (i wanted to go for su1c1d@l but idk if ur chill with it(ONLY IF U WANNA))

Remember that you are not alone so please reach out for help. There are hotlines to call/text if you are struggling, suicidal, or in a crisis

My messages are always open if you want to talk but I am no replacement for professional help and support of your loved ones

The fellowship x depressed!reader

Aragorn:

-He recognizes the signs quickly

-I imagine he’s had his bouts of depression

-He definitely takes a very gentle approach

-Offering a shoulder and an ear

-He’s kinda an unpaid and unlicensed therapist

-He gives lots of tips on how to keep going in your daily life

-For some people depression is kind of a way of life; you have to learn to live with it

Legolas:

-He doesn’t fully understand at first

-To elves, depression is really only experienced after loss

-So to have it chronically is a new concept to him

-He’s remorseful that you feel so low and he knows there isn’t much he can do

-But he will try

-He will force you to get up and out of bed, even if he has to throw you over his shoulder to get you some fresh air

-He will constantly point out little beautiful things to be grateful for; little joys

-Maybe it’s the smell of dawn or crunchy fall leaves

-Or maybe it’s him; he is very insistent that you would miss him most

Gimli:

-I literally love this dwarf so much; he would be such a cutie that you can’t help but smile at him

-Like he is so gentle and patient with you; which is saying something because dwarves are not patient beings

-He isn’t someone who will beat around the bush though; he will very bluntly tell you your worth and why he and everyone else needs and wants you around

-He gets you involved in anything he can

-Is it against your will? Maybe

-But I’ve found I sometimes end up feeling a little better and enjoy the time out even after I’ve bitched about it and my friend had to drag me out of the house by my hair

Boromir:

-Big brother mode is always active so he picks up on your subtle changes very fast

-Maybe even before you do

-He will tell you stuff like “even if you can’t, you must”

-Wether or not you find that helpful or not; just know he’s trying

-His experience with depression is seeing it with his soldiers

-And that’s the sort of thing he tells them so he just kinda hopes can be applied to you

-He is very action oriented; I think he may have a difficult time sympathizing with not feeling able to get up and do anything

-But damnit if he doesn’t try; he wants you to tell him everything so he can learn and be of better support

-He also gives the best hugs

Frodo:

-He is a very steady friend

-Like he’s not going anywhere; no matter how dark things look he’s still there with a torch

-He makes you go on walks like clockwork to give you some feeling of routine

-He always invites you over because if he can’t help he’s sure Bilbo can

-How can you be sad when talking to Bilbo?

-Well actually he talks a lot so maybe it’s a bit exhausting; but it’s a kind thought

Sam:

-So Sam wants to help so bad; the idea that he can’t fix it doesn’t sit well with him so he will keep trying

-He will help with tasks obviously because acts of service is his love language

-But I also imagine him trying to give comfort but not in the “let me hug you and you can cry on my shoulder way”

-More so in the “look at this photo of a piglet in rain-boots! You can’t be sad while looking at that!”

-Yes you can because that’s not how depression works but still; you put on a smile anyway because he’s just so adorable and he’s trying his best

-This may turn into a sort of “fake it till you make it” situation where eventually you may feel better from his antics

Merry:

-We know this hobbit likes to plan things and is always up for adventure with his friends

-And he’s basically Sherlock of the hobbits so you don’t have to say anything for him to read you like an open book

-He will set you a schedule and will hold you to it by joining you

-He’s not going to go easy on you ngl

-Not in a mean way; but he won’t give you a day to take a break and stay in bed

-Even if you have to half ass everything; you will be doing something

-“you don’t need to wash your hair but you do need to sit in this tub for at least 10 minutes”

-This can feel exhausting at the time and may make you snap at him sometimes but he’s determined because he loves you

-And sometimes tough love is the most helpful

Pippin:

-Can’t get out of bed?

-Don’t worry! Pippin won’t let you be lonely

-He won’t always drag you out of bed. Instead he will join you and talk your ear off

-He brings the “fun” to you

-With the hope that he will either annoy you so much you get up

-Or that his stories give you some level of intrigue to want to go out and see whatever it was he is talking about

Gandalf:

-This is a very old man, he’s seen depression in all states and forms

-He’s a quiet type of comfort

-He definitely says some vague poetic shit that isn’t necessarily helpful but it does have a meaningful lesson

-Offers his pipe

-He is also sort of they type that you are a little afraid to disobey

-Like if he tells you to get outside more; even if you don’t see him, he knows if you have or haven’t

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Idk how good this is. I personally do have depression so I know my own experiences with how it affects me, but it shows in different ways for everyone. In terms of comfort and support I’m not fully sure this does any justice, hopefully it’s a little comforting. I have a great support system but I’m notorious for being too stubborn to accept help. Don’t do that by the way, because eventually it will likely stop coming. Let your friends and family support you; it’s not out of pity; it’s because they care and want to help in anyway they can even if that just means checking to make sure you are alive each morning to let you know they are there.

Anyone can message me if they need someone to talk to. I’m no therapist or expert in any sense but I can be a friend :)

[vrystalius]

I loved Sanemi's ask about meeting his in-laws,can I request an ask about Sanemi meeting his only daughter's boyfriend? (Sanemi has 7 sons and one daughter) 💚

❕Sanemi’s reaction to his daughter having a boyfriend

You and Sanemi’s daughter have a boyfriend. What will your husband think?

Note: I’m glad you liked it!! This was again very fun to write, so thanks for sending in that request! <3

Pairing: Father!Sanemi x Mother!Reader

— Sanemi bawled his eyes out at every single birth of his eight kids. He held the bundle of joy in his arms, ugly crying and sobbing. If he were to go back in time and tell himself that good things are coming, he wouldn’t believe himself. Sanemi always wanted to have a big family with many kids and he feels incredibly blessed to have one with you. Three of his eldest sons already moved out, much to Sanemi’s grief. But luckily they stayed close to his and your house, so you, Sanemi and the kids can easily go visit them.

— Now, Sanemi only had five kids that live under the same roof. Among them, his only daughter. He never thought of himself as a girl-dad when he heard the news of you being pregnant with a girl. He’s gotten used to roughhousing, lots of fighting and yelling from his boys, so Sanemi wasn’t not sure if he’s going to be able to even bond with his little girl. But turns out, it was no trouble at all.

— He adored being made all pretty for her doll parties, make-up clumsily being applied to his face. Sanemi loved playing princesses and fairies with his daughter, going so far as to dressing in one of your floral kimonos for this roleplay.

— But Sanemi’s favourite thing is to braid her hair for hours and hours on end and to just enjoy spend the time he has with her. He knows that his little girl is going to grow up and become not so little anymore, and he cannot mentally prepare himself for that.

— So when his girl brought over her boyfriend for the first time, Sanemi was devastated. Who is this boy? For how long have they been knowing each other? Were they dating behind his back? What are they doing in her room with the door closed?!

— You had to calm Sanemi down and hold him back from barging in and dragging that damn boy out of his house.

— But when the boy was in his way to leave, Sanemi stopped him by stepping in front of the housedoor and blocking the exit. He glared down at that boy, scanning his whole body and face. Sanemi looked extremely intimidating with all the muscle he (still) had and the several scars decorating his body and face.

“You better behave, boy. I don’ wanna see my daughter sad, ya hear?”

— Sanemi practically growled at the boy. Your daughter’s boyfriend would’ve wet himself if you didn’t scold your husband and told him to leave that poor boy be.

— Sanemi just doesn’t want to see his little girl growing up. He wants to continue to play fairies with her, braid her hair and help her organise her doll parties. He wants to keep his precious girl’s heart safe and far away from heartbreak…

— And he swears that if any boy dares to even touch his girl the wrong way or even attempt to hurt her, Sanemi is going to scramble his old and dusty katana out and give it one last taste of blood.

💠

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my masterlist for the hashira.

Here’s my masterlist for the demons.

[nerdasaurus1200]

The hug scene is just too good to not ramble about so let’s get into it

So naturally we’re thrown right into Jinx’s POV here. We start with complete darkness, with the only source of light flickering on and off, her one source of comfort and safety. Just like her, we have NO idea what happened at first. Whether Vander is okay, whether Vi is okay. You can see in her face, Jinx is so alert. And this is so different than usual because in season 1 whenever she was alert like this she still had a very blank look. She was still always kinda teetering on the verge of an episode, the lights were on but no one is home. And here she is FULLY in her mind, fully in the situation, and the poor girl is terrified. Because did she Jinx it again?

She doesn’t know

All she can do is hold Isha close in the darkness and listen as she slowly steps closer to the eerie green light of Vander’s mechanics…

To find by some miracle of the fates, both her dad and her sister are okay. More than okay, they’re reunited. Jinx made Vi understand.

I can’t even begin to fathom the utter relief Vi must feel in this moment. Knowing that despite it all, despite watching him die, her dad is alive. He’s okay, he’s here. And after the few years she’s had this hug is exactly what she needs. She need that moment to let go, and just be in her old man’s arms again and finally stop being a fighter. And it’s just so heartwarming, the way Vander still just cradles her head and holds her so gently and dwarfs her despite being an adult now. No matter how old Vi gets, she’s never gonna fully outgrow Vander. She will never stop needing her dad.

But something’s still missing…

“What are you waiting for? He’s your dad too…”

I’m certain Vander’s thinking the same thing here cause even before Vi addressed Jinx you could see those poor sad eyes looking her way. They both still acknowledge Jinx as their family no matter what, this hug wouldn’t be complete without her.

And you can see this just shatters any walls Jinx had left. All she can do is break down crying, that’s the only way she can let out all the pain and joy and utter relief she feels in this moment. Cause that line is just so meaningful, with those four words, Vi says so much. Naturally it’s a callback to Jinx saying it earlier but Vi saying it back…that’s her saying “You’re still my sister.” That’s her saying “I forgive you.” That’s her saying “You’re safe, it’s okay to move on from the accident.”

And Jinx knows that and you can see it in her eyes, she’s silently asking “Really? You really mean it?”. And that soft look in Vi’s eyes only solidifies that yes, she absolutely means it with every fiber of her being.

So of course Jinx does the only thing she has left to do. She and rushes to join the group hug. She leaves her own light and gets drawn in to her dad’s, leaving behind her own source of comfort and accepting another. She’s finally allowing herself to open up and trust other people again, to seek other sources of comfort. And look at the way Vi instantly holds her, her arm is around Jinx almost as soon as she’s within reach.

And honestly the theme of not being able to outgrow Vander applies just as much to Jinx cause she’s arguably smaller than Vi in some ways and he dwarfs her just as much. And the way Jinx holds onto Vander’s finger, something about that totally reminds me of like…that moment dads have when their newborn baby holds their hand for the first time.

The look on Vander’s face here too is just chilling in the best way, the way his eyes harden just a little. He may not be all the way there thanks to Singed, but he’s there enough to to that his little girls are there with him. They’re okay, they’re alive, they both made it out. And NOTHING is gonna hurt them again, not so long as he draws breath.

And I couldn’t fit it here cause I hit the screenshot limit but the fact that Isha joins too and none of them even prompt her to. Because this is her family now too. The family’s not only complete but enhanced now. They’ve restored what was left of the family and even added to it with new family members.

And the song is just perfect, the constant “What have they done to us” playing in the background. The world has done so much, too much to everyone in this family. They’ve all been starved, beaten, and destroyed emotionally and physically. They’ve grown distorted, they’re no longer the people they once were. I like to think that the chorus is kinda reflecting what all four of them are thinking, they’re all just thinking “what has the world done to us?”

But despite it all, they’re still alive. They’re still here, and NOTHING is gonna tear them apart again, not even Noxians.

(Let me hope XD)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

after reading the ending and seeing the meltdown on twitter over the mistranslation before the official chapter it's just kind of annoyed me how people view gojo as some perpetually insecure, self deprecating dude when he was never that.

Ofc geto's defection fucked him over and that loss of a valuable bond was the guiding force behind a lot of choices he made in life but he was always, always fond of jujutsu itself, it's the orthodox structure and lone burden on his shoulders he disliked.

Even nanami clocked him for that in 236. That he enjoyed the thrill of sorcery. I hate satoru's uwufication (and don't get me wrong he's very much my cutie patootie) but to view his complexities as just insecurities is such a narrow view.

It's also why it didn't really surprise me when he "went south" in 236. So many people called his confession in that chapter ooc but in my opinion that raw vulnerability was so intriguing and on brand for him lol. Loving the fight, not being able to hate sukuna, trying to reach him through his skills, admitting the distance he created with others because the gap was just that big, and choosing to stay in the blue spring this time because that period was the most blissful time of his life..it's the first time he chose himself and chose life as Satoru and not just as the strongest.

And to see this same effect happen during the leak mistranslation with so many gojo stans babying him again and it was so..like bro 😭 are we sure we read the same content

THIS . THIS . THIIIIIIIS

anon thank you for putting this into words bc i have been struggling to do the same 💀 but i absolutely agree!!! i also have a big issue with people viewing him as insecure or sad because i truly think gojo was fully comfortable in his own isolation . he’s never pitied himself, and that makes him more tragic, not less. the mistranslation thing in 271 with ’i also have love and dreams’ just made me sigh because that’s just something gojo wouldn’t say 😭…. obviously he has dreams and he has love but he’d never frame that sentence in such a self-pitying way — he’s only telling yuji to carry on his dream if he dies. that’s all.

i can’t explain it super well but to me the greatest tragedy of gojo’s character is that he so rarely gets upset over his own situation — he’s been used and abused in plenty of ways but i don’t think he actually minds, because that’s all he knows. he’s staggeringly mature and resigned and that’s an aspect of his character i think isn’t talked about enough. he even finds joy in his own situation, through fighting and teaching, despite how much weight he has to carry. how overworked he is. ’one must imagine sisyphus happy’ applies really well to gojo, i think…….

and that’s why a lot of fandom takes just . irk me 😭 the truth is that gojo probably wouldn’t mind having his body used after death. and like he himself says in 271 — he doesn’t mind if people forget him. that’s just the kind of guy he is. he’s tragic in the sense that he goes with the flow and accepts the reality of his own existence without wishing for anything different. i think he did have hope that he wouldn’t have to be alone when he was with suguru, but after his defection that hope disappeared. suguru’s importance to satoru is one thing i don’t think anyone can ignore, but i don’t think he turned into some kind of empty shell after he left, either — suguru was simply the end of satoru seeking out meaningful, equal human connection.

…… until sukuna :3c

which!!! for the record!!!!!! i 100% agree with you on. 236 is one of my favorite chapters and i will literally fight the ooc allegations until the day i die bc i don’t think they understand gojo 💀 sorry to say. him finding value in fighting someone like sukuna makes all the sense in the world considering he’s the closest thing satoru has gotten to being on truly equal grounds with someone. and the fact that satoru wanted to teach sukuna about love speaks volumes about his character, how much he detests the isolation of strength. satoru isn’t a saint, but he’s a good guy with very particular motivations. and him finding peace in the bliss of his youth, right after being referred to as ’satoru gojo’ by sukuna …….. must have felt soooo liberating. criticisms about the aftermath of his death aside, i do think this was the happiest ending for someone like gojo.

i will say that nanami’s comment in 236 is often misunderstood as well — he’s specifically talking about teen gojo, not adult gojo. adult gojo fights for plenty of things, not just the thrill — but obviously he still enjoys that even now. i think a lot of people make the mistake of either viewing gojo as some morally corrupt fight loving feral maniac (which is just plain wrong), or viewing him as this sad, sad man who never wanted to fight (which is also plain wrong)…. he’s a deeply tragic character with a lot of kindness in his heart, and even at the very end i don’t think he was truly sad over his own circumstances.

i hope . that was semi-coherent ;;; sorry for just hijacking your ask anon but this was a good opportunity for me to talk about some things that have been bugging me for a while 😭 gojo is a wonderfully written character and i don’t think he was ooc even in 271 (though the talk with yuji felt sloppy to me in execution), i just wish his death had been handled as well as it deserved to be ….

[hifugoro]

Picturing Ren eventually distancing himself from Akechi after accepting Maruki’s deal.. Picturing him weighing the idea of them not being friends anymore in his head the night of 2/2—since he figures that Akechi wouldn’t want to—and slowly becoming more resolute to do it himself after seeing Akechi back to detective prince mode….

“Have your regrets begun?” is a scalding line in it’s own context of Akechi being gone but I think it applies twice as much in this scenario. Is Akechi really happy here? Was his TV persona drawing upon a place of real joy, or is this Maruki’s vision of a Happy Goro Akechi? Or, worse, Akechi had an OkumuraMadarame™ pulled on him. Ren’s wish was granted before he spent any time with the “real” Akechi (in quotes because I have other unrelated thoughts on his behavior during 3rd semester) in a way that didn’t end with one of them dying. Therefore it’s an admittedly reasonable assumption that those feelings of closeness came solely from Akechi’s other personality. There’s also the Vey Important dialogue with Maruki where Ren can say his heart aches when he gets betrayed. And I mean. You know.

So, let’s switch him back to the polite Akechi who would never betray anyone. He’s alive because Maruki wants him to live a good life as well, sure, but him being here was Ren’s wish. As messed up as it is it’s pretty obvious who comes first and foremost. Maruki thinks all happiness is real, even if it means entirely destroying who you are, anyway.

And I don’t think Ren would be able to come to terms with that. He’d try to reason it with himself for the first few weeks (maybe Akechi didn’t really think he was too unlovable to show any real parts of himself to the public. maybe this is genuine) but it wouldn’t work in the end. It doesn’t help that Akechi hadn’t even been angry when he said their deal was off, he just looked hurt. Acting like nothing is wrong after betraying someone like that, whether they remember or not, just isn’t something Ren could do forever.

So he doesn’t. He stops going to see him. Stops returning Akechi’s texts. Doesn’t reply to the follow up texts of Akechi being confused as to why they suddenly aren’t speaking anymore. He can’t even imagine going to the jazz club, the real Akechi’s safe haven, after everything is finished. The other thieves may talk about Akechi from time to time since they’re all friends now, which hurts him to hear, but guilt can’t be outweighed that easily.

Damning the entire world to save one person who didn’t even want to be saved is a selfish action born entirely of Ren’s own feelings towards letting Akechi die again. Does following that up with a selfless one—letting him drift away even if he desperately wants to reach out, because Ren knows Akechi wouldn’t realistically forgive him for taking the deal—cancel it out? Does it make anything better? Does it matter?

And at the end of the day, Akechi’s pain over losing the closest relationship he has likely wouldn’t even last. Sadness doesn’t mean anything here. After a while, Ren probably won’t even be missed. Maybe he realizes that this is the case and commits to it anyway. A roundabout apology for something Akechi doesn’t even know he did

[heyyoubuckaroo]

Displacement | 1.2k | AO3

I saw the 8.09 promo stills of Buck looking like a sad, wet dog in Eddie's house at night and ran with it.

Banged this out pretty quickly, so will almost certainly come back to stealth edit.

Enjoy!

~~~

Eddie feels the argument coming on before it lands. He’s been waiting for it, ever since Buck walked into the house and caught him looking at real estate listings for El Paso. These last few weeks, it’s like they’ve been prepping for a storm—shutting the windows, locking the doors, pretending the sky hasn’t already gone full dark.

“Why are you okay with this?” Buck demands.

He’s on the other side of Eddie’s living room, hands shoved deep inside his pockets. He hadn’t bothered to take off his shoes when he came through the front door, and he’s still wearing his faded denim jacket with the black collar—the one he throws on sometimes when he helps Eddie with the yard work on weekends. Eddie knows exactly what it smells like: Tide detergent, peppermint gum, a hint of juniper from the cologne Maddie bought Buck last Christmas.

“I’m not okay,” he says.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Buck is staring stubbornly past him. “You didn’t seem to have any problem saying goodbye to Chim or Hen or... Bobby.” His mouth twists. “It’s like you don’t even care that you’re leaving.”

Frustration wells inside Eddie, like blood to the edge of a cut.

“If you just asked how I felt instead of assuming, you’d know that’s not true.”

Eddie watches this hit. Buck’s breathing hitches, like he might back down for once. But Buck is Buck, so he barrels forward instead.

“When was I supposed to ask you, Eddie? Out of nowhere, you drop that you’re moving to El Paso.” He makes a soft, pained noise. “And I get it, okay? I get that it’s Chris, and he comes first. He should come first. But you never even told me you were thinking about it.”

“You had a lot going on.”

“Like what?” Buck’s eyes narrow. “Tommy?”

The thing is, they don’t talk about him—not really. Eddie is intimately acquainted with the small, mean part of him that will always resent Tommy for taking something that wasn’t his to take. He steps toward Buck, closing the distance between them, or maybe applying more pressure to the wound. He can’t tell the difference.

“Yeah,” he says. “Like Tommy.”

“I’m not allowed to be upset about my boyfriend breaking up with me?”

“That��s not what I said.”

Eddie stops beside the couch, and Buck just looks at him. Then, like flipping a switch, he squares his shoulders and pulls himself to his full height. It’s the day they met all over again: Buck posturing, scared of losing his place. Eddie, trying to find his footing.

Maybe they’re both scared now.

Eddie knows he shouldn’t push, but he can’t help it. “You didn’t seem to care until you were the one getting left behind.”

He’s close enough to track every emotion that flickers across Buck’s face—confusion, surprise, hurt. Buck’s eyes, grey shadowing the blue, lock onto his. And God help him, Eddie feels a rush of heat under the full weight of his attention.

Buck shakes his head. “I always made time for you when I was with Tommy.”

“You—” Eddie presses his fingertips against his mouth. “You didn’t even give me a chance to process it. One minute it was just... us, and the next you’re like, ‘Hey, Eddie, I’m dating your new friend.’ What was I supposed to do with that?”

“So... what? You weren’t okay with me dating him?”

“No!”

They both freeze, Eddie’s denial hanging in the air. In the silence that follows, he hears his own breathing, ragged and loud in his ears. He doesn’t know if it’s adrenaline or the ugly truth of what he’s said, but his pulse kicks up and his body braces itself—waiting for the impact.

Across from him, Buck’s expression crumples, something delicate giving way under stress.

“You said it didn’t change anything.”

Eddie did say that. He might’ve even meant it. It’s hard to remember now—seven, eight months later. All that time lost between, watching Buck experience the kind of joy Eddie doesn’t get to have.

He went back to St. James’ once, a few days after Buck and Tommy broke up. He’d been looking for the priest from the juice bar. Father Brian wasn’t hearing confessions that day, so Eddie sat alone in a pew halfway up the aisle of the church, working his left thumb into the soft space between the tendons of his right palm, pushing until it hurt.

Pain in place of guilt. It’s a trick he learned when he was young.

“I lied,” he says. Because whether he meant to or not, that’s what happened.

“Right.”

Already, Buck is withdrawing, his shoulders hunched and defensive. Eddie’s instinct is to course correct. To offer reassurances. To reel him back in.

“Good to know I made things awkward for you,” Buck says flatly.

And Eddie... Eddie is so tired of pretending.

“Evan.”

Buck drags in a sharp breath. Eddie’s only called him that once—sitting on a hospital bed with a bullet wound in his chest and Buck’s words, I think it would have been better if I was the one who got shot, driving straight through it.

Most days, Evan is just Buck: LAFD firefighter. Adored little brother and uncle. Eddie’s best friend.

They’re close now, drawn together by impulse or habit. Eddie’s socked toes touch the tips of Buck’s sneakers. He reaches out, his hand finding its place on Buck’s shoulder, thumb resting in the dip of his collarbone. He rubs it lightly over the fabric of his T-shirt, giving in to the urge to soothe.

“By the time I figured out what it changed,” Eddie says, quiet, “it was too late.”

The back of his free hand brushes against Buck’s, their arms pressing together from shoulder to wrist. Buck is shaking a little, the fine tremors passing between them. Eddie is aware he shouldn’t be doing this—not when he’s about to leave Buck alone.

He swallows down his nerves and leans in.

“Eddie,” Buck says.

Eddie gives in to his selfish desires. He pulls, and Buck, always willing to follow his lead, bends. His eyes drift shut as their foreheads meet, noses skimming. Buck’s hand turns, palm up, sliding against Eddie’s until their fingers catch.

He wants this. They both want this.

Buck’s phone rings.

It’s like a bucket of ice water. Eddie shudders, and Buck jerks back to stare at him, wide-eyed. The thread holding them together frays, then snaps. For a moment, neither of them reacts.

Eddie’s brain catches up to his body first, registering the ringtone.

“That’s the station,” he says. His voice sounds low. Wrecked. “You should get it.”

“Shit.” Buck bites his lip, leaving it flushed and pink.

Grieving the loss, Eddie forces himself to look away from Buck’s mouth. He steps back to give Buck space as he fumbles for his phone.

“Bobby?” Buck answers.

Eddie can’t make out the words on the other end of the line, but he can tell from the way Buck’s face falls, it’s bad news.

Years of training—as an army medic and a first responder—kick in. Eddie focuses, letting the emergency in front of him wipe everything else clean. It’s shockingly easy.

The call is brief. Buck hangs up, then blinks down at his hands, unseeing.

“What is it?” Eddie asks.

“Maddie.”

Buck sways where he stands, clutching his cellphone. When he looks up, his eyes are wide and lost. They settle on Eddie, and somehow, he knows what’s happened before Buck says it. He feels the storm passing over them.

“They took her.”

[doiliedaze]

Special

Warnings: reader is hypersexual, mentions of rape since a young age, implications of eating disorders/body dysmorphia, reader freaks a bit when vi touches her but vi has never hurt her in any way, talks of shame and guilt, reader thinking she’s a slut, venting, vi cry’s (she’s such a crybaby it’s adorable), reader and vi are college age, smau, reader does blame how her body is shaped and how she dresses for her treatment

Genre: fluff and angst

A/n: im posting this before any of the poll post because one of the picks is smut and a dark fic at that (haunted) and I’m not in the headspace for any of that atm. I put myself in my readers (duh) and this is something I strongly struggle with and I needed the comfort and I hope it can comfort others who relate as well. This story has a lot of heavy material if you don’t have the mental space to read it then don’t! Listen to special by SZA it helps because I utilize how she uses special and apply it to readers mindset.

───────┈ · ·

Your mind have been going through some dark times recently. Your body feels like it’s rejecting itself. Eating has become a background thought, and touch makes your skin crawl.

All this started because you saw a figure that looked familiar, probably not even the same person but it resembles them.

Ever since that evening three weeks ago you’ve been spiraling. What if Vi sees? What if she wants to leave you? Of course she would, someone like her doesn’t need to be with someone like you.

Your thoughts get shaken when Vi’s muscular frame sinks into the bed. She’s rambling about the movie you two are about to watch. She always gets so excited for movie night! It reminds her of being a kid cuddling with her mom and scaring her sister when a noise is too loud. Her smile is wide and her eyes are wider with joy. You just know you’re gonna ruin it.

“Babe?” Her voice rings out as you were drifting back into self loathing. Her usual bubbly, passionate, loving girlfriend has become a husk of herself. She doesn’t talk about it not wanting to push you but she’s worried at this point.

“Yea?” You turn to her playing with the edge of her shirt wanting to shrink and die. “Can I hold you?” She whispers unsure if that’s the right thing to do or not.

Feeling like you need to be normal sooner rather than later you let her hold you. Your Vi would never hurt you, you know that. Just today those same muscles that protect you feel like they are suffocating, her warm body making you nauseous, her overwhelming scent making it feel like she’s weighing on you.

Pushing your thoughts away you nuzzle in closer because you have to do this…the relationship needs this to thrive. Vi can notice you’re slightly uncomfortable but she sees you gripping her arm so she doesn’t let you go.

As the movie plays the two of you get more comfortable and it’s almost like the anxiety melts away. That can’t be healthy…you’re too reliant on her. She needs air, she already has to look after so many people.

Her head nuzzles onto yours and kisses your forehead. Something she’s always done when you’re sad. It’s so loving but today it makes you queasy.

“Can we talk?” You whisper and Vi shifts to look at you, “of course cupcake.”

“I feel so out of it lately? Like I’m so disgusted with myself…I’m so used I don’t understand why you’d want to touch me.” Your voice was shaking and you couldn’t make eye contact and she didn’t force you to. She turned the tv off and rubbed your back, “I want you beyond your body…I think it’s beautiful but you are so much more than it.”

“I can’t be, I can’t even count how many times someone has used me or just wanted me for sex! I’m just a slut and you don’t need that…” You turn to her frustrated, how can she not understand?

Her face scrunched up in confusion and hurt, “you are not a slut, you are far more than that. I need you, and by you I mean all of you! That includes your soul, your adorable laugh, the way you rub my hair when I’m sad and how you talk to yourself when you read. I need all of you babe.

Your eyes well up in love and discomfort. You’ve never disclosed these feelings to a partner before and you feel like melting.

Fat warm tears roll down your face and you hide in Vi’s neck. “I just blame myself…I know it’s not my fault I can’t control how I look and I won’t change how I dress but…Vi I’m so tired.” You whisper as your voice breaks. Gently Vi scoops you into her lap and those warm muscles start to feel like home again.

Through her own tears she was trying to hide she says, “nothing was your fault, these people saw a light and they wanted to snuff it but they didn’t. Nothing was your fault okay?” She kisses your hand shakily. You know Vi, she’s a protector and wishes she can protect you from all the bad.

There’s more to be said, you both know that. These experiences are heavy on your soul and one conversation isn’t going to cover how it affects the entirety of your life. However with Vi you know she’ll hold your hand step by step till you understand no one took away what makes you special.

───────┈ · ·

A/n: I highly suggest listening to the song because I utilize her symbolism of being special but I paired it with themes of sexual assault to push the felling like “you gave up your special” when of course you didn’t give it up and you still have your special. I apologize if this is too short or awkwardly written. I don’t talk about this aspect of my life and I’ve never really had a partner who didn’t add to this trauma let alone talk to them about my history so I kinda didn’t know what to say but I wanted to try. I hope you all enjoy it and if you need to avoid this one I understand. I love you all, you are all special 🫶🏿

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos

Dividers: @dollywons

[hey-august]

NSFW Alphabet - Buggy

I've always wanted to do one for Buggy, but haven't. Soooo let's use it for requests!

📬 Send in a letter (or a few) me to do. Repeats are fine, as long I don't I run out of ideas. I'll also add everything to this post.

Aug 22 Update: The entire alphabet is complete! If there are any letters that you want to read more about, feel free to send them in a request!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Buggy's aftercare language is food. He'll stumble away, bowlegged and sticky, to get snacks if there aren't any around. And he'll come back arms full of anything and everything, plus a packet of crisps clenched between his teeth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For Buggy himself, he’s most apt to admit that he likes his hands. They’re the hands of a pirate and a performer. Calloused and agile. Plus he has a thing for nail care and finds it soothing to apply a layer of lacquer in whatever color he’s feeling at the moment. The pop of color really stands out when his hand is wrapped around a thick cock. Or digging into a dripping hole. Fuck, and seeing how many fingers he can fit? Yup, definitely a favorite of his. For his partner, it’s their smile. Aw, sweet. Of course he loves to make them laugh. To see their joy radiate up to their eyes. Even the sad, somber smile they offer the clown in his moments of vulnerability brings him a bit of peace. But there are two specific smiles that knock Buggy head over hills. That pump blood to his cock and leave him feral. First, is the soft breathy smile that slips out when his partner is on top. When his partner pauses to let Buggy’s dick nestle into place, they let out the most dreamy sigh and smile. And Buggy is in heaven. The second smile is when their face is coated in cum. Pearls clinging to their eyelashes, dripping down their cheeks, mixing with the spit on their outstretched tongue. The moment they risk getting jizz in their eyes, just to look up at Buggy and smile gratefully, all he wants to do is paint them again.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

(1) Thick and creamy. A good amount, just right when spread across someone’s chest or face. Buggy’s cum gets a fair amount of distance at first, before it dribbles out the slit for the remainder of his orgasm. It’s a bit bitter and salty, since Buggy does not have the best diet.

(2) Doesn’t mind tasting or eating his own cum. Has done it before because he didn’t want to get up and find something to clean his mess with.

(3) Buggy loves to leave his mark by coming on his partner. Seeing their sweat mix with his cum is a wonderful sight. And if they scoop up some on a finger to taste? Fuck, he’s about to burst all over again. If they’re on their knees, mouth open and waiting, Buggy will “miss” more often than not. They just look so good with his cum dripping down their face.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

(1) Buggy has masturbated in every room in the Big Top.

(2) Lets his disconnected wiener float around the bath like a toy boat.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

(1) (I think I could talk about this for days.) It’s mixed. Sex? Intimate relationships? Buggy is not the most experienced there. He’s dabbled. Had a few auditions. A couple of callbacks, but none ever made it to curtain call. But Buggy is surprisingly experienced in regards to what he gets up to in his personal time. iykwim

(2) Not very, but his enthusiasm and willingness to learn make up for it. Shanks got his first kiss before Buggy, and Buggy asked him so many questions that the “process” was cemented in his mind by the time it happened. He wanted to be ready. He practiced leaning in, tilting his head, pursing his lips juuuuust right, and when to pull away. And he managed to succeed for his first kiss! Sure, he bit their lip too hard and drooled when pulling back, but he earned himself a second kiss. Plus a trip to second base. Okay, so that’s kissing and not sex. But Buggy kept it up. Learning what he can, paying attention to his partner, and doing whatever possible to earn those sweet rewards he deserves.

(3) Buggy knows the basics - where to touch, what feels good, where the little buttons should be. He gets the job done and it’s good. It’s fine. Like pizza - even bad pizza is still good. For the longest time, he did treat it like a job. Sex was a thing to be done to deal with those feelings. To tamp down those urges. To be part of a relationship. It was expected and, as a bonus, his balls were empty. It wasn’t until a certain relationship that Buggy started thinking about sex differently. Less selfishly. He started picking up on the smallest cues his partner gave - moments that made their breath hitched, when they leaned into his touch, how hot their skin was, how flushed,. That’s when Buggy started chasing their high, intent on giving them a trip that left their core aching, legs trembling, and body dripping.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

(1) Doggie for giving and receiving. Deep and it hits all the right spots. Maybe part of it is because of how often he's fucked in this position. Buggy doesn't always like the pressure that comes with eye contact. But when he's okay with being seen or he's craving to see what kind of lewd faces his partner is making, Buggy doesn't have to change positions. A simple rearrangement and his top half is right where it needs to be to see face to face, while his lower half stays and keeps the connection.

(2) Buggy likes to be on bottom. Ride him, pound him, just take care of him. Let him take a break from the spotlight for a moment (even if the show couldn’t go on with out him anyway). Even better when he’s seated. There’s something about the confines of a chair, luxury of a couch, or the power of a throne that gets his dick hard as a diamond.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Buggy the Clown is a goofy fucker. He never stops talking. He always has shit to say. At first, it was a defense mechanism. All the humor and shenanigans kept the real feelings away. How could things get serious if he treated everything like a joke? If people saw a clown, then he’d give them a clown. “Lick it like a candy apple.” “Fuck, you could swallow swords in my show with a throat like that.” “C’mon, I wanna see you juggle these balls in your mouth.” (“I may not be a lion tamer, but I am pussy tamer.”) It dies down over time, but never goes away entirely. Buggy will never pass up an opportunity to invite his partner to the circus tent in his pants.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

For a dirty pirate, Buggy cleans up pretty well. A dusting of chest hair in a lovely shade of blue. A taunting happy trail under his belly button that looks damn near artistic when saturated and smeared with precum and sex. And below the belt, it’s usually trimmed, but always a nice field of fluffy blue. Sometimes he forgets or just doesn’t want to cut it shorter. Secretly, he likes watching his partner’s nose burrow into the curls when he’s balls deep in their throat.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buggy. Is. Smitten. He is head over heels, butterflies in his stomach, feeling a little nauseous during the deed. In the beginning of a relationship, he might be more hesitant to show that side of himself. There would be little signs, though. A clean towel, scented candles, nervous fingers that push strands of hair from his partner’s face, tender kisses that linger and melt. As Buggy gets comfortable, those gestures will grow. His adoration and devotion will come through in how he looks up at his partner through fluttering eyelashes, how he asks if it feels good, do they like it, how he says he wants to make them feel good. How hard Buggy works to hear his name on their tongue, sweet as a honey drop. Buggy’s endless dirty talk will grow softer, losing the rough edges and grit, until it tumbles out in a three word confession. It’s the first time he says it, but it won’t be the last.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Buggy is all for rubbing one out. It’s his stress relief. It’s also his self care, along with high shelf alcohol (stolen, of course) and some smokes, if he’s in the mood. He’ll even lay out a towel on the bed and take his fucking tiiiiiime. And because he has chop-chop powers, there’s a lot of things Buggy can fill this time with - not just wanking the wiener. When Buggy really wants to treat himself, that dick is going anywhere and everywhere.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

(1) …pegging. And double anal penetration. Buggy has fucked his own ass, no doubt about that. But to be stuffed with his own cock and by his partner? This clown is about to be out of commission for a few days. Only a few before he’s asking for it again.

(2) Mirror sex results in the best performances. Buggy rarely feels more like a star than when he’s watching his own lewd faces in the mirror while getting fucked. And Buggy is more than happy to take a backstage position when his partner is in the spotlight. Watching himself disappear into his partner, telling them to keep their eyes open, to move so he has a better view of the show - it strokes his ego hard and fast. But back to Buggy bent over in front of the mirror and drooling. There was one time his partner pushed the clown’s face against the cold silver and said to give himself a little kiss. What. The. Fuck. Licking and kissing the mirror and getting it dirty with spit and tears gave Buggy the most mind-blanking orgasm he’s ever had. In that moment, which stretched into eternity, he was a filthy fuck doll and more than okay with it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Semi-public places! Bar bathrooms, quiet hallways or alleys, empty community rooms. Being able to hear noise from nearby people gets Buggy all riled up. Or knowing that someone could show up at any point and see him and his partner doing the deed… Deep deep down, it’s a weird form of acceptance to Buggy - his partner is willing to risk getting caught fucking the clown.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Physical touch and compliments. Hoo boy, those get his blood flowing. A hand on his shoulder or bicep with a little squeeze - wow, you're really strong, huh? A thumb neatening the lines of his facepaint - which looks so flashy on him. His favorite? The one that makes him feral? Tugging his belt to pull him closer while making out will turn Buggy into a horny mess.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

(1) Earlier in a relationship - anything involving his nose is an absolute turn off. Buggy gets in his head, convinced that it's a turn off for his partner. Deep kisses, swapping spit and moans? His face between their legs? Buggy is trying his damndest to keep his nose from making any contact. The slightest brush and he freezes, ready to bolt. And heaven forbid his nose is bumped during sex and honks. Buggy is fucking out of there when that happens, disappearing in a flurry of limbs.

(2) CBT. It doesn’t quite do it for him and since Buggy can remove his own junk, it adds an extra layer of vulnerability that he’s not ready to deal with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Buggy loves a sloppy blowjob. Loooooves giving and receiving those. Balls that are dripping wet with spit, lips and chin coated in drool, glazed glassy eyes. Hell yes. Eating pussy is one that Buggy needed some time to get into. He couldn’t really practice it on his own and his fucking nose seemed to get in the way more often. Eventually, it clicked. Seeing his facepaint smeared inside his lovers thighs makes him want to keep making a mess. Face deep in those wet folds, licking and eating like a ravenous dog. He’ll stay down there like it’s his fucking job.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough. Buggy wants what he wants. When all the blood is in his dick, all thoughts are out of his head. He wants to fuck and to get fucked. Make it sloppy. Be messy.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hell yes. Buggy is almost always down for something quick and dirty. It doesn’t satiate the hunger, it doesn’t push back the curtain call, but it takes away the edge. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter if there isn’t enough time for a proper quickie. Fooling around is in Buggy’s name, after all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, but hear me out. Buggy’s interest in experimenting is driven by his image. Pirates swap stories and Buggy has all the best stories. Of course he does, he’s the greatest. And he’s done soooo many things. Really! Getting his dick sucked in a crowded restaurant - check. Stealing a chick from her boyfriend and fucking her in the bar bathroom - check. Then getting a blowjob from the boyfriend - check. Believe it or not, they all had a threesome afterwards and it lasted for days. Look, he still has the rope marks to prove it. Did that all happen? Abso-fucking-lutely. Really? Well…yeah. Sorta. Maybe some of it happened after the told the story. Buggy is a big believer in turning lies into truth. So yeah, Buggy will take risks to live in the reality he creates over stale beer. But he’s also down to experiment so he has more shit to talk about and prove he’s the best.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

(1) One decently long round and a short one later on. Buggy can commit to contributing to those. After that, he’s more prone to just laying there and taking it. Or letting his partner use his body to get them both off. Buggy’s dick is more than willing to go multiple rounds, it’s the rest of him that needs to rest.

(2) If he could, Buggy would go until he passes out. How long that takes depends on how stressed he is, if he actually did any work during the day, how much he’s had to drink, and how good of a dicking it is. But this guy will hump and grind until he’s teary and whining. Until his balls are so empty that there’s almost nothing left to release except a few pathetic drops of mostly-clear liquid. Hands grabbing at the sheets and his partner, practically begging for more while his pretty eyes can’t stay open for more than a second. No, no, no, no, no, he swears he can keep going. Please, please don’t stop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

At first Buggy wasn’t sure how he felt about toys, but he caved eventually. A dildo that he can use in place of his own dick so he can suck and gag on something while jacking off. Buggy also knows how to improvise. Need a gag? Or something to bind wrists? He has a bandana. Ropes and aerial silks are also available at the snap of a finger.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It’s accidental at first. Really. All those little touches, feather light and fleeting, it’s because Buggy is nervous. N-not because he’s unsure about what to do! Definitely not! He just wants to make sure his partner likes what he does. Yeah, that’s it. But all that hesitation, all those moments that don’t last anywhere near long enough, it all builds up. And his partner is only moments away from grabbing the captain’s wrist and keeping him where he needs to be

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This guy is loud. Just look at him! And he is always talking. Buggy cannot keep his mouth shut or the volume down. It’s just not in his nature. Taking care of himself? He’s panting and grunting, muttering to himself about how good it feels. Buggy is immersing himself in the fantasy and will play the role. In bed with his partner? Half the crew got alcohol poisoning from taking a shot every time Buggy shouted his partner’s name. Well, there is one time when Buggy is quieter. Still loud, but just loud enough. Early in the morning, when the sun wishes it could sleep in. When Buggy and his partner are wrapped around each other, entwined as one in a moment that only belongs to them. Any sounds, whispers, promises - it’s just for them and no one else.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

(1) Buggy has cockwarmed himself more than once. No, he’s not squirming because he’s nervous about the meeting.

(2) Sits like he does because his balls stick to his leg. Hehe.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

(1) It’s cute. A little more on the growing side, but there’s always enough showing to know that his partner will have a good time. When erect, it’s truly average length. But c’mon, Buggy can easily get his disconnected dick deep enough to roll eyes and curl toes. It’s thicker than average. Not impossibly so, but there’s a slight worry of lockjaw when blowing him for too long. And it’s wonderfully hefty. Buggy’s cock bounces so beautifully when it’s hard and twitching.

(2) Pierced nipples. Please. Simple barbells usually, with different ends - the usual balls, stars, and sparkley gems. He also has a set that looks like stars encircling his nips, and some with dangling chains for when he’s topless. Buggy has freckles on the tops of his shoulders from a lifetime of sun exposure. He also has spots of hyperpigmentation on his legs, arms, and back from deep bruises that healed but left their marks.

(3) Let’s talk about tattoos. Buggy has a few on his right upper arm and shoulder - mostly nautical themed and his jolly roger of course. There’s a rope knotted around his left wrist, as well. Back to his right side, the ink adorns the side of his chest and creeps down his ribs. Some (most) are shitty stick and poke tattoos. A few he gave himself, benefits of chop chop, and others came from crew members or vagrant pirates met along the seas. Whenever someone asks Buggy what his tattoos mean, he tells some elaborate story and they’re left wondering how much is bullshit and how much is truth. If any. Also. Sometimes Buggy “tests” his facepaint on his dick. A cannon and real Buggy balls. An elephant for the circus, with it’s own circus peanut. The he’s really pleased about is when he paints his penis to look like a clown. Of course. With a saggy bowtie. Buggy even grow out his pubes so the ween-clown had lush hair as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(1) Buggy is a horny dude, but not always for sex. Sometimes he likes the intimacy of it all. Naughty touches, steamy make-out sessions, a little grind here and there - they don’t have to end with sex, as long as he and his partner spend plenty of quality physical time together. But he does love having sex. At least once a day, although it might drop if he’s feeling too stressed (or he parties way too hard). And there are some days where he’ll spend the day in bed and raise the average.

(2) There are ups and downs, but let’s talk about the ups. There are times when Buggy is revved and ready to go at a moment’s notice. His pupils dilate and his pants get tight when his partner is near. Any chance he gets, Buggy is whispering (loudly) in their ear about finding somewhere more secluded. If they do slink away, it’s a quickie that’s composed of a handful of sloppy thrusts and the pirate is satiated for all of a few minutes before he’s groping their ass again. It’s a problem, really. For everyone with eyes and ears.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

(1) Too fast. Too fast. Buggy tries to fight it, really. But those eyelids are drooping as fast as his deflating dick after cumming. But back to the aftercare - the poor guy's growling stomach is guaranteed to wake him up juuust long enough to refuel.

(2) Soooo sleeeeeepy. He can’t help it, everything goes fuzzy after sex. Buggy wants to cuddle and drift off to sleep, but he also wants to stay awake. This results in sentences driving off into snores. Hands and legs twitching and jolting himself awake. Offended disagreements - he was not asleep! He was just resting his eyes. He's just resting his head on his partners shoulder for a moment.... *snore*

[dontworryihaveyourblorbos]

Fuck it, King Peppy analysis.

I see a *lot* of Peppy hate, and I get it, but I also have to break my silence. I really do not think he’s as bad as people say he is. In fact, I kind of like him! “But he lied about the strings!” “But he didnt rescue the snack pack!” “But he lied about Viva!”. And to that I say ladies and gentlemen, let me cook.

1. He lied about the strings. OF COURSE he did. Peppy knew three things: one, like Branch said, the strings coming together leads to fighting. Two, if Poppy knew there were other trolls, she’d immediately apply the cupcakes and rainbows and hugs method until they were besties. Three, the strings and ensuing fight+whatever Poppy was cooking would be too much for the tiny tiny Pop troll population to handle. They can’t fight, so they do what pop trolls do best, hide. That’s exactly what Peppy was trying to do. Next.

2. He didn’t go to rescue the snack pack in the first movie. First of all, mans is ancient. Second, someone needed to stay behind and watch the villagers while they were in Branch’s bunker. He’s not built for long ass physically intensive adventures, but he can run a village and hold authority and keep everything from being trashed completely, which he did. We can safely assume that the bunker was fine after the first movie and not completely destroyed, likely thanks to Peppy. If he hadn’t stayed behind and kept everyone in check, the place would have been uninhabitable. But nah, Peppy kept everyone safe and stable. Hell yeah brother.

3. He lied about Viva. Can you imagine how devastated Poppy would be to learn that she has a sister, only for that joy to be crushed when he has to tell her that said sister is dead? Poppy wouldn’t be able to let it go, especially with her longing to have a sister. Why make her mourn someone she doesn’t know when she doesn’t have to? Why give her that trauma when she, in all reality, is fine not knowing? Because even if it was messed up because she found out, before she found out Viva was alive she was…completely fine. And he said it himself, he was heartbroken. Pop trolls don’t process their feelings, they repress and sing a happy song a little louder than usual. How was Peppy supposed to heal from his own loss and sadness, only to then turn and inflict it on his only remaining daughter, while still in survival mode? He couldn’t. So he didn’t.

Look, I’m not saying King Peppy is perfect or that he didn’t make mistakes. I’m just saying that he did his best, and he’s not a bad character, person, or dad. He raised Poppy to be the amazing Queen she is, he brought his people out of a horrific and dangerous situation and kept them safe, and when he couldn’t protect them anymore he knew his limits and passed the torch on to his daughter while still supporting her, and he went to therapy and began to change his mindsets and heal from everything. He’s definitely not as bad as some people say he is.

One last thing I noticed about him while rewatching TBT. When a Pop Troll is happy, consistently, their ears stay pointed upwards. When a Troll is sad, their ears droop down. And if they’re sad or gray for long enough, their ears droop down permanently. (Cough cough see my Floyd and Branch ear post cough cough.)

Peppy’s ears are the only ones that just…stick out flat. Forgive me, I couldn’t find any good screenshots from tbt.

Not sad, not happy. To me, this means repressed. He wasn’t just chilling in the background like teehee I’ve made no mistakes ever :3. No, he didn’t like that he had to do those things. He had major trauma and probably a ton of issues he was hiding or repressing, and is only just now beginning to work through them. Why only now? Because he’s not in survival mode anymore. Poppy is queen, strings are destroyed, bergens are chilling, okay, now he can begin the healing process.

Sorry for the novel, but I just really like Peppy and I think a lot of people don’t cut him enough slack or give him enough credit. He’s doin his best.

[shakespearefreak]

🎁 Happy Birthday, Addy! 🎁

I’m SUPER late posting, but last Wednesday (April 9th) was the anniversary of the Civil War ending, and the “almost-perfect day” Addy chose for her birthday. To celebrate, I surprised her with cherry pie 🥧, ice cream 🍨, and a gift 🎁! Originally I didn’t plan a movie, but then she inadvertently gave me the idea to watch Annie (2014) 🎞️ while we ate (I say “we” because I also got myself pie and ice cream to celebrate!).

Addy gasped with joy when she saw the table laden with cherry pie, sweet tea, and an ice cream sundae just for her. “You did all this for me?” she asked happily. Marley nodded, grinning.

Addy gently touched the cheerful yellow blossoms in the vase. “I love these,” she remarked. “I was feeling kinda sad since it’s been cloudy all day, and these are like a little piece of indoor sunshine.”

“I picked those on a whim at the last minute,” Marley told her. “Now I’m so glad I did!”

It had been grey and rainy all day, but it began to brighten up just after this, almost like Mother Nature had been waiting to celebrate her birthday too.

Addy turned her attention to the gift by the couch. When she pulled back the sunflower-print wrapping paper, she gave a little squeal of delight. “My birthday dress!”

While Addy changed, Marley turned their back and hummed to themself. When Addy asked what the song was, Marley’s answer sounded a little bit guilty. “Um, it’s from a new musical called Cinderella’s Castle that I really like. But it’s too mature for you, sorry.” (The musical in question has a lot of sexual references, violence, and adult language, and Addy is only 11 after all.) When Addy couldn’t help sighing a little, disappointed, Marley got a sudden burst of inspiration. “But I do know a musical that you can watch!”

“What?” Addy asked, excited.

“You’ll see!”

When Addy had finished changing into her new outfit, she twirled happily, pleased by how the skirt moved when she spun.

“You look lovely!” Marley told her, snapping a picture.

Addy sat down at the table and dug into her sundae (she was worried about spilling ice cream on Marley’s bed, so they waited until after she’d finished it to start the movie). “Mmm!” she exclaimed after the first sweet, cold mouthful.

“I know you love ice cream,” Marley said, and Addy nodded.

“It reminds me of my first-ever birthday party in Freedom when Poppa fixed the ice cream freezer for me… and when we went to the Banneker House on Cape Island for Independence Day!” She ate every bite, and daintily licked the spoon clean.

“So what’s this movie about?” Addy asked, settling on the bed with a slice of pie.

“It’s actually a remake* of an older movie,” Marley told her. “In some ways, I think the original is better, but I think this version will resonate with you more.”

*(I know that technically all three film versions are different adaptations of the stage musical, but I got the sense they were going for "remake/reboot" vibes, especially with the opening scene.)

As the story progressed, Marley glanced at Addy. “How are you liking it so far?”

Addy thought. “It’s hard for me to think of a Black man who can behave like Mr. Stacks does,” she said after a moment. “When I first came to Philadelphia, I thought that Black people really would have all the same opportunities as White ones. But it didn’t work out that way. It feels strange seeing a Black man who’s so…” she paused, trying to phrase it nicely.

Marley nodded. “Stacks is so rich and powerful he’s out of touch with the real world. He actually did have to struggle when he was younger, as we’ll find out, but now he’s sort of forgotten what that was even like. And he doesn’t understand how much of his success was luck as much as skill and hard work, so he thinks that everyone who’s poor just needs to apply themselves. He’ll get more likable, you’ll see.”

Partway through the movie, Marley noticed the time. “Oh, wow, it’s later than I thought! I should probably shower. Would you mind if we took an Intermission?” Addy agreed, and sat re-reading her birthday book while Marley was in the shower.

After Marley returned, they resumed the film. When Annie tearfully confessed that she couldn’t read, Addy looked at Marley in surprise. “That’s not common anymore, right? A girl my age not knowing how to read?”

“No,” Marley confirmed, “it’s not. But it’s still more common than it should be, especially in communities that don’t have enough resources. That’s actually one of the big reasons I thought you’d like this version better; they added that plot point, and I know how excited you were to learn to read just around this age, and how much you love books now.”

They both enjoyed the movie very much (Marley especially loved the new songs “The City’s Yours” and “Opportunity,” which showcased the vocal talents of Jamie Foxx and young powerhouse Quvenzhané Wallis), and by the end, both Addy and Marley had found tears in their eyes more than once. When the credits rolled, Addy yawned, and Marley looked at the clock again. “Yikes! Bedtime for you, young lady!” Then they yawned, too. “Bedtime for both of us, methinks,” they added with a chuckle.

“Thank you for today,” Addy said gratefully as the two friends got ready to go to bed.

“Of course. Happy birthday, Addy,” Marley muttered sleepily, before crawling under the covers and almost instantly falling asleep.

The End

BONUS:

(A close-up of the table setting because I worked hard making it look pretty, darn it!)

[buckbisexually]

i love buck for getting over his hurt feelings just like that and instantly going back to being supportive. i think it’s when he sees blaze/bingo reunite with the little girl and her dad and realises he’s happier to see the joy being reunited brings to this family, than he’s sad at having to say goodbye to blaze. i love buck for deciding he needs to lock in and make sure this happens for eddie, for applying to be eddie’s renter so he can go to texas, for doing this all before ever making up with eddie or having his misunderstanding of eddie’s words cleared up, for going over to eddie who was still trying to argue with him while buck had solved one of his biggest obstacles. i love buck for doing all this of his own intentions without reconciliation or outside pushing because he doesn’t need it. i love buck for just deciding to do anything he can not just for eddie but for chris, because that’s what’s important to him, and them being happy and together makes him happy. most of all i love him for thinking up the name ‘freddie fakeman’

[xx-riffraff-xx]

I have yet to learn how to make posts look pretty. Here’s my characterization chart for Zayne because Love and Deepspace has me in a chokehold and I need to write something about this man before I fucking explode. Picked from various sources, SOME NOT MY OWN!!! (Canon, other headcanon lists, my own life, my imagination, etc.) If you recognize any of these headcanons as your own, PLEASE let me know and I will credit you here or remove! I don’t have the recorded history to find and credit everyone whose headcanons I liked. List under the cut it’s really long.

His nose is perpetually cold. He likes to tuck his nose into your neck to stay warm. It’s a requirement for all his favorite cuddle positions.

And boy does he love cuddling! He is so touch-starved and his favorite thing is settling in on the couch with you after a long shift at the hospital.

Secretly a little spoon. It doesn’t matter if he’s taller than you, he likes to be held.

Either an excellent cook or a terrible cook and I can’t decide which yet.

If he’s a terrible cook and you are not, he makes sure you have everything you could possibly want in the kitchen to cook with so you can make whatever you want. He’s always willing to learn whenever you try to teach him.

If you’re both terrible cooks, a few of your dates are cooking classes together. He takes classes more often because he wants to cook a candlelit dinner for you sometime. Eventually, he can cook a variety of dishes with no cookware-related tragedies. The first thing he chose to learn to make was your favorite.

I think he may start out as a terrible cook but through your influence, he becomes a decent if not excellent chef!

Workaholic. We know this from canon, but when I write things I want to take it to the ultimate level.

Related concept, self-sacrificial idiot. Everything from choosing to make dinner when he’s already exhausted to literally giving his life for you. It’s really difficult to get it through his thick skull that you don’t need him to sacrifice so much for you.

STUUUUUBORN. If he sets his mind to something it takes weeks to change it and he has to think it was his idea.

Fortunately, you have a leg up in this scenario in that he is absolutely WEAK to you. If anyone can convince him of something, it’s you.

Will not tell you if he’s in pain or injured or tired. Will try to push through whatever pain he’s in due to self-sacrificial attitude mentioned above.

This also applies to his evol. If his evol acts up he will not be telling you that, no matter how badly you want him to.

MAAAJOR guilt, anxiety, and people pleasing problems. For Zayne it’s due to being a doctor and for Foreseer!Zayne due to what Astra put him through. Foreseer!Zayne might get his own list we’ll see how crazy I go.

Cannot take care of plants. Partly too busy, partly he just can’t.

Cat person, also known from canon.

I think he’s a poet. I have next to nothing to support this, I just think he gives you poetic compliments and he’s melodramatic in the way many poets I know are.

Very small physical tells for what he’s feeling, which is why he comes off as cold. (Tiny curl at the corners of his mouth for joy, subtle softening in his eyes for admiration, crease in his brow for worry, tiny head tilt for confusion, clenches his fists for anger, more if I come up with it and remember to edit this post.)

Not a very feelings-y person. It takes a lot for him to open up to you and actually say what he’s feeling.

Related, has a very hard time asking for things he wants and needs.

Cries at Disney and Ghibli movies. (I know, seems odd with the prior points, but I just think wholesome things would get him more than anything else because of all the sadness and tragedy he’s seen.)

You introduced him to Ghibli and he has cried at every movie you’ve shown him. Every single one.

Does not get jealous, but when he does… woof.

Always always always thinking about your health. Texts you throughout the day reminding you to drink water and makes sure you eat enough veggies.

Pastries are his favorite. He loves chocolate-filled croissants the most.

Easily embarrassed by silly nicknames, but loves all the ones you come up with.

Royal purple and navy blue are his favorite colors.

He primarily listens to classical and jazz I think, but cheesy pop songs are his guilty pleasure.

If he were to play an instrument I think he’d be a cellist. (Something something cello and flutes sound like snow to me and he is not a floutist.)

Proper grammar when texting.

A very affectionate and giggly drunk, does not drink often. Does not like the taste of alcohol, so sweet fruity cocktails are his favorite.

Side sleeper.

Collects plushies because you got him into it.

Cannot think of anything else at the minute, so this is the completed list. Bye lmao