#something is missing. from my brain. i can feel it!!!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

missing steve rogers hours, need someone to be a gentleman just for an hour. so, on those lines, what’s some of the things steve would do that would make you realise how well you deserve to be treated?

a/n: i will never stop missing him

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well, he’s literally an old-fashioned guy, so he'd do a bunch of the classics that never go out of style 

like opening doors for you

pulling out your chair for you

he’s a flowers guy. even if it seemed a bit over the top to you in the beginning, as he kept up the habit, the more used to it you got and now it would feel wrong if there wasn’t the last bouquet from him on your dining room table 

holding your hand, both in casual settings, but especially in times of stress. if he’s by your side when something knocks the wind out of you, even just a tiny bit, his hand slides into yours. 

he also fixes your clothes, like tugging a tag back under your collar or picking off lint if he randomly notices 

another thing that he just naturally does that you didn’t know you were missing till you got it was how present he is when you’re together. always actively listening, attention always on you and never half on a phone as the interactions with most of your friends go

on that note, he often surprises you with the random things he remembers you telling him, and when you stare back at him in total shock that he remembers your aunts and uncles names or something random, he just tilts his head and is like “of course i remember.” because his brain clings onto each and every little thing you blabber on about 

i can also imagine him casually pulling you in for a slow dance whenever he’s put on an old record. just a little bit of gentle swaying…cheek to cheek...

also, he always tells you how proud he is of you. no matter if it’s for some big accomplishment or a tiny little thing like you tackling a chore you hate, he always says it. 

another thing he always remembers to say? that he loves you. i might even argue that he was the first one to say it. maybe it was right after he got home from a mission and he just had to spit it...

and lastly, whenever you’re having a bit of an off day, maybe you didn’t sleep well or you’re just feeling blue, he doesn’t hesitate to give you a hand with whatever you need. were you supposed to do the dishes today but suddenly it became too cumbersome of a task? he’s already there scrubbing away even though you didn’t ask, he’s just trying to help you lighten your load.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[josephquinnswhore]

the day your heart stops yearning - pedro pascal x female reader

summary: pedro is tired of the two of you dancing around your feelings for each other.

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: bitta jealously, insecurity from reader, mentions of sex, suggestive comments etc. Pedro is the loml I swear these new pictures have altered my brain chemistry.

Wrapping the towel around yourself tightly, you sit down as your swimsuit soaks through the material. Hair dripping wet and skin cooled down from the sea water. Pedro looked incredible, his hair wet and curly. Droplets of water running down his toned chest.

His board shorts tighten and stick to his thighs and crotch. Swallowing thickly, you help him put his sling back on to support his shoulder injury.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” His voice calls to you softly, drawing you out of your thoughts, every time you were with Pedro, you seemed to be lost in them. Somewhere far away from him.

There’s a moment's hesitation where you process what he’s said, reeling yourself back to the serenity around you. The two of you are on a small boat, surrounded by clear blue water, bright and mirroring the clearness of the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

There’s a formation of an unnaturally curved rock, shaped by erosion, perhaps the gods. The sight would’ve been worthy of such creation. Pedro was wearing nothing but his multi-coloured board shorts, and a deep blue sling.

“That doesn’t even come close to it. I can't describe how it feels to be here.”

With you.

But the words are lost, dying on the tip of your tongue as they had many times before. More often than not the two of you had done this, your own separate outing together aside from everyone, co-stars and friends.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” The concerned murmur is met with a smile that he reserved for you. All teeth baring and eye wrinkles exposing themselves, the smile that reaches his eyes. His deep brown orbs aren’t much to be seen now, eyes squinted as he laughs.

“You’re worrying about me at a place like this?” He tilts his head, the one curl from his messy brown mop of hair falls onto his forehead, and he runs his hand through it, pushing the hair back off his skin.

He’d always found a way to lighten the mood, sending some kind of solemnness emitting from you today, he knew you better than anyone. The feeling had his insides clenching with anxiety.

It had been happening for years, the two of you having some unspoken moments where you couldn’t deny that there was a connection between you, something so effortless and heart wrenching at the same time. So many unspoken words and almost confessions.

“Hey,” he draws you out of your head again, lost in the fog of heartache and doubt.

He looked so good with Connie, that’s all you’d thought about since you’d flown to Malta with Pedro. They seemed so perfect for each other—the way he looked at her while he filmed their shared scenes. It felt real.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just thinking about some things.” It was easy to brush off, or to pretend to anyway.

“Since when do you keep things from me? Somethings going on with you, come on, spill your heart to me honey.” Meeting his gaze, the brown orbs suck you into an intoxicating familiarity of the love you so desperately crave.

“Can this wait? I don’t want to ruin all of this.” Gesturing to the view, the lapping sound of the water against the side of the boat, the gentle rocking sensation sends your stomach spiralling into more unease.

“You aren’t ruining anything, talk to me.” Setting his can of beer down, he shuffles closer to you, placing his hand on your exposed thigh. “Talk to me.” He pleads again.

“I miss you.” The simply utter broke the silence between you, cutting through the background noise.

He knew what you meant. There hadn’t been much time for the two of you to see each other. Between filming for Gladiator II and the new Fantastic Four franchise. Yet—he knew it ran deeper than that.

You missed the picnics, the shared gazes of knowing and mutual love. The late night dancing and his hands running through your hair, the two of you unable to let go of one another.

The sex you miss, too. But not nearly enough as you crave for his skin on your own, for his hand in yours and his heart in your hands.

“Oh, sweetheart—“ he sounds so sweet, so sincere, but you cut him off anyway.

“Pedro.. don’t. We don’t need to do this today.”

He stares at you, wondering what’s happening in that head of yours.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” He murmurs, tracing unnamed shapes over your skin.

“I suppose so.” All he gets is an uncertain shrug from you.

He frowns, the stress lines on his face appear on his forehead. “My heart is yours, sweetheart.” He utters your name softly, fingers leaving your thigh to caress your cheek.

“What’s it matter how we feel? We can’t be together. You practically are married to the entire internet and it’s not practical for us to date.” Finally, he was getting to the root of it all.

“Fuck being practical,” he murmurs. “Tell me how you feel, just say it to me, I’ll do right by you.”

It feels like your throat is swelling up, preventing you from uttering the words you’ve longed to tell him for years. Somehow, you blurt them out in an anxious whisper.

“I love you.”

Before you could process the admittance of your love, he had pressed his own lips softly against yours. It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but this time felt more authentic.

Your fingers caress his face, his facial hair tickles your fingers as you hold him against you, his nose is pressed into your cheek and it’s a little awkward. But your heart is pounding erratically in this moment, eyes closed and focusing on the feeling of his lips, his hand clutches the back of your neck.

After a few moments, he pulls away from you, pupils blown wide take up most of the mass around the deep brown iris. “I love you,” the whisper in return was made against your lips, his nose against your own.

“Tell me you’re mine, that we’re going to do this properly.” He pleads, he’s too close for you to look at anything but his eyes. The pleading gaze of hope in them.

“I want that, want you.”

The words aren’t lost on him, the entire afternoon is spent in seclusion, the two of you holding each other, kissing and wrapped around each other as if you were two halves of a whole.

Your fingers are white, lathered in sunscreen as you apply the substance on Pedro’s back. “We really should’ve done this hours ago.” You scold lightly, to which he laughs, shaking his head.

As you trace his back while you’re applying the sunscreen, making sure to cover all the freckles on his skin, and his arms as you trail down. Fingers running up the muscled limb as you return to the base of his neck to give a light massage.

He’s not subtle when it comes to how you made him feel, a loud breathy groan escapes his lips.

“Feel good?” The purr turns his cheeks red—he turns to you.

“Such a tease. If we weren’t in public you’d be in trouble.”

“Maybe we should head back to the hotel now then?”

He perks at your suggestion. The corner of his lip tugs upward in a slight smirk. Pleased with the idea of having you all to himself.

“My girls just got all the right ideas, don’t she?”

My girl—his girl. After years of pining and yearning over more from him, he’s given you the chance you’d dreamed of.

[kooksbunnnn]

HOLD MY HAND- KTH

Pairing: Taehyung× fem!reader

Warnings for the chapter: slightly suggestive, fluff, kissing, making out, 18+

Summary: You and Taehyung exploring and experiencing the newer side to yourselves while getting to know each other more intimately and deeply in your new relationship.

Authors note: EEEEEEEEE! NEW SERIES! ENJOY EVERYONE! and dw guys, the word count might increase in the upcoming updates! _______________________________________

"...you good?"

Taehyung shakes his head as he tries to focus on your voice again. He clears his throat and hums. "Yea-yeah- I'm good." Rolling your eyes with a small smile on your face, you continue blabbing about your day to him.

Sighing taehyung tried to listen to you, to your ranting, he tries, trust him, he does, but the way your lips glow under the light makes his mind wander. Wander to places he can't put words to because it's too early for him to dive into all that in your relationship.

Fuck he missed kissing you the whole day.

As you sit on his lap and excitedly tell him about how your friend used to braid her boyfriend's hair, you flick the hair that falls from his forehead, and he almost shivers at the touch. He smiles as you trace his features, letting the warmth of your fingers seep in his skin.

His eyes zoned into the deliciousness that your lips were. He wanted to kiss you so bad. He could kiss you again and again, and he won't ever get tired. He could make out with you all day and never miss social interactions with others, not like it matters to him when he has you in his arms.

"Baby.." he mutters, and you pause animatedly while telling something.

"Hm?"

"..can I kiss you? You can continue after that.." he whispers huskily while he leans in before you could respond to his question. His hands reach up to cup your face as one rests on your lower back to support you in his lap.

As his lips touched yours, he groaned, feeling the gloss smudge in between your lips, he licks your lips and smiled at the cherry flavor. Your giggle makes his grip on your back tighten as his hand from your face reaches into your hair.

Kissing you hungrily, he leans forward, making you grip his shoulders as you feel your body bend backward. Feeling your grip, he pulls you closer to him as if it was even possible. "I wont drop- ah- drop you.." he pants against your lips, and you breathlessly nod.

"I know.." You mumble into his lips, with lidded eyes, and as he pulls you back into him, kissing you again, he chuckles with a smirk on his face, "fuck what're you doing to me.." He whispers to himself more than he does to you as he feels his control slip through his fingers.

The moment you giggle at his whisper, he switches his rational side of his brain for a few minutes and tugs onto your hair, knowing that his hands in your hair melts you like putty in his hands. You gasp, giving him better access to your mouth and your toes curl at the wet kisses he gives, licking and nipping and sucking just the way he knows you like and he loves.

You groan, feeling his tongue bully his way into your mouth, and he chuckles when you try to dominate his tongue with yours. He smacks your ass at your sad way of trying to take charge. Your eyes widen at his action. Heat creeps up your neck as you've never experienced this side of him before.

"Not today, baby. Try some other day.." he says, chuckling a throaty chuckle and your cheeks heat up with embaressment at how you liked the burn you feel on your ass cheek. He coos at your blush making you squirm in his hold.

You both used to talk about all this, but the experience, while sitting on his lap, was totally something else. Mindfucking would be an understatement.

"Ohh... you liked that? My dirty little girlfriend, huh?" He says, caressing the side he spanked, and you whine trying to hide your head into his neck, but he doesn't let you, pulling on your hair in the way that makes your eyes roll back.

He smacks the same spot and squeezes your ass cheek with a rough chuckle. You groan, feeling yourself get wetter with every second. "Tae.." You whine as you feel your ears get warm.

"No hiding, baby." he says so gently and nips at your jaw it mames your head spin, his voice makes a shiver run up your spine, and you shut your eyes as you feel yourself getting hotter by the second. Smiling when he sees the swollen lips open, breathing heavily, chest heaving as he nastily licks a stripe up your neck.

Pulling you back in, he kisses you so good and sloppy that has you mewling on his lap. He feels your gloss smudging all over his lips, creating a sticky mess. He loves that. The way he can make your poised self turn into a messy little piece of art makes him so hard.

"Babe- babe- air -" You try to speak in the middle of his kisses. He just laughs, that deep laugh that makes your toes curl.

"Sorry.." he says, pulling back and fixing your hair gently, rubbing his thumb on your spit covered, kiss-bitten, swollen, and glossy lips. "Continue. How was your day, doll?" He whispers, and you chuckle breathlessly at how this man could say all that with such a straight face while being so hard under you. You dont even remember your last conversation, this newer side of your relationship, and Taehyung making you giddy.

Fuck, you missed kissing him the whole day. ♡________________________________________♡

HELLO EVERYONE! So, I have started a new series based on short and tiny stories of Taehyung and fem!Reader where we would know the fluffy, angsty, and spicy parts of both of these cuties' new relationship. Give them lots of love and let me know if you want me to write some scenerios, requests are always welcome🩷 I am finally trying to write with a concentrated mind so I hope I dont disappoint you and also finish my other WIPs. Thank you for all your love, I love my readers sm, they give me so much motivation, and I cant thankyou all enough. I love you all. See you in the next update!

-Sam♡

[hestzhyen]

An Extremely Subjective HakuHiro Romantic Trope Breakdown

Greetings, void. This arc is rough and the brainworms won't let me write my own hurt/comfort fan fiction- they demand half-baked analysis instead of lovemaking. So have the closest thing that passes for fluff from yours truly.

In essence, this is just a list of the explicitly romantic tropes I love applying to HakuHiro with varying degrees of gushing ship babble as justification. Some are definitely skewed hard towards headcanon but there's always at least a tenuous connection to something that's demonstrated in the work itself. Proceed if this kind of brain rot sounds like your jam! Otherwise just please let me die from cringe in peace.

Battle Couple

Offense and support working in perfect harmony.

So this is just one of my personal favourites, but Chihiro and Hakuri definitely have strong vibes for this trope. They fought together in an absolutely stunning display of mutual trust and understanding in the Rakuzaichi Arc. Seriously, these guys pulled off some truly spine-tingly good moves to take down Kyora despite Hakuri only just awakening to his powers the very same day.

They demonstrated this again in the train fight protecting Uruha- Hakuri and Chihiro only need the bare minimum of communication between them to fight in style. I look forward to more chances for them to show off their teamwork! If they end up fighting back-to-back in canon I'll probably just straight up ascend to fudanshi heaven on the spot. I LOVE BATTLE COUPLES.

Love at First Sight/Rescue Romance

"This is the kind of man I need in my life."

Love at First Sight is pretty self-explanatory: person A sees person B and immediately falls head over heels. It's easy to slap that on Hakuri in his introduction chapter- he's only missing an invitation to get to know each other over some coffee when they finally meet up, really. Unless asking someone to help you kill your family is the Kagurabachi universe's equivalent...?

As for Rescue Romance, it's another very simple scenario: person A is saved by person B, which causes them to fall in love. Chihiro saves Hakuri with the other random people at the site of Sojo's massacre attempt, and Hakuri... yeah. You get it.

I think there's a better trope to associate to this later on in the list, but Love at First Sight and Rescue Romance are still apt and very funny tropes to apply towards Hakuri's first impression of Chihiro. The way he waxed poetic over the mystery samurai who saved and inspired him had me in stitches. Seriously, my oldest notes on Hakuri from that chapter are mostly just laughing about him being really passionate about Chihiro for someone who's not intended to be a love interest! Go get 'im, Hakuri. He needs you in his life just as much as you need him in yours.

Mindlink Mates

Don't need to hear each other at all if you just "get" them.

This is something I like to apply as a Fanon concept based on what happens in canon. Hakuri and Chihiro aren't literally linked mind-to-mind via telepathy, but both of them have a deep understanding of what the other's thinking and feeling at any given moment. I really like the concept that they understand everything about each other on an instinctual level. It's mostly fueled by the Aun concepts that have been associated to them, which I'll get into during a later section. But yeah. Hakuri and Chihiro being borderline telepathic in how they can sense the other's status. That's crack cocaine to me and it's not too far removed from canon so I'm running with it.

I also really like the idea of their strong emotions and desires bouncing off of and amplifying each other's, but I don't know if there's a specific trope for that, so it gets placed here at the end of this tangentially related section. Also not something far removed from canon given how they both fuel each other's self-destructive savior tendencies because they feel the same way!

Moe Couplet

They're so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute

A Moe Couplet is essentially a pair of characters that enhance each other's cute traits. Separate, they are perfectly fine individuals with their own appeal. Together, they are adorable and capable of some tooth-rottingly sweet moments. This trope isn't typically associated with romantic duos in stuff aimed at general audiences, but it's common in BL as the basis for "fluff" works and wholesome pairings.

This is probably the biggest stretch to apply towards canon on the list, honestly. We haven't seen that much moe moe action from Hakuri and Chihiro- they're kind of busy fighting for their lives or hurting themselves to save others most of the time. But the few moments we get send me straight into cuteness agression-induced brain rot every time I think of them.

Most of this trope label for HakuHiro comes from little details. Like Chihiro often being shown reassuring Hakuri, and Hakuri getting some of the sweetest smiles out of him in return. Hakuri brings out Chihiro's soft side when Char's not around to do so and Chihiro helps Hakuri be his absolute silliest. These guys are are so good to each other! They melt the ice around my cold, dead heart into a slurry of hnnngh and incoherent shipper screeching.

What's it actually based on though? Well, I thought I was just doing normal delusional fudanshi things by thinking Hakuri is extra cute when he's around Chihiro and vice versa. But then Hokazono-sensei threw me a bone in an interview by saying he intended for Hakuri to "bring out Chihiro's personality and add some cuteness". And I. Just. I exploded into confetti on the spot. MOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

One True Love

This ship is not merely an OTP to me, if you haven't noticed.

Note: "ai" is not inherently romantic despite it being the end-goal of pretty much every romance novel out there. It's for deep, profound affection felt for someone- friends, family, even pets. It's rare and not commonly said aloud outside of the climax of a love story is all!

This is mostly tied to Hakuri's experience with love growing up and how he can find out what 愛 [ai, purest and deepest love], really means.

Hakuri probably has no fucking clue what love of any kind is really supposed to look or feel like, much less the ultimate form of it. His father threw ai around as something to manipulate his children into serving the family tradition. Soya used it as an excuse to torture him. This was deliberately done to contrast with the love that Chihiro knew growing up- true ai between father and son, which was cruelly ripped away from him.

So let Chihiro teach Hakuri, and Hakuri provide in return. They're already each other's perfect partners anyway so just put a romantic spin on it!

Hakuri finding unconditional love he doesn't fear in Chihiro and Chihiro finding the same in Hakuri once more. Neither of them ever needing to fall in love again because they slot together so perfectly to fill the gaps in each other's hearts. Oh I'm gonna die...

Opposites Attract

If not meant to be canon, why colour coded as opposite compliments? :thonk:

This is the trope that activates a primitive part of my brain that overrides all thoughts with eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee noises when it comes to HakuHiro. Hakuri and Chihiro are true opposites that are perfectly balanced to contrast and compliment each other, resulting in a duo greater than the sum of it's parts.

Hokazono-sensei made his intentions about Hakuri and Chihiro extremely clear by going so far as to colour code them for us. This is the protagonist and his foil/deuteragonist guy who is Important as Fuck. The level of detail in designing and writing them reads like he took this trope extremely seriously and said "let's save the Hero + Lancer coding for Hiyuki instead". 'Cause as much as I love her, Hiyuki's got nothing on Hakuri when it comes to this trope. Her thing is closer to being the same person as Chihiro with the opposite frame of mind and mode of expression- it's Hakuri and Chihiro who are the true manifestation of Opposites Attract down to the tiniest details. I'm ready to die on this hill so come at me and put me out of my misery.

I mean just look at these guys:

Chihiro: black and red, stoic, reserved, serious and polite, slim and straight profile.

Hakuri: white and blue, emotive, outgoing, silly and casual, loose and boxy profile.

They invert the same ways under pressure; Chihiro stresses and falters while Hakuri focuses and buckles down. Their fucking backstories are in on it too: they both lost their father's love but under distinctly opposite circumstances. Even the love they received was contrasted since Kunishige was a perfectly wholesome dad while Kyoura used love in an abusively manipulative way! And that laid the foundation for the premise of the Rakuzaichi arc- Hakuri wants to destroy his family's legacy while Chihiro still wants to do right by his. It would take a whole 'nother post to list everything between them because every single detail about one is carefully crafted to be present in the other in order to complete their characters. It's absolutely insane and it's what really sold me on the ship.

The level of care put into writing Hakuri and Chihiro as opposites who complete each other is out of this fucking world. I'll feel sorry for whatever girl gets assigned to be a mandatory heterosexual love interest for either of them because there's just no way to compete when two people are written to be so thoroughly intertwined with each other.

(To clarify just in case: I don't think Chiyuki is a bad ship. I'm not trying to trash it and say HakuHiro's better or more legitimate somehow. I just have an issue with shounen romance in general because the girls don't get nearly as much narrative effort to make them compelling companions to the MC compared to the "best friends" and Kagurabachi is doing nothing new in that regard so far. Hokazono-sensei can actually make a bigger impact by refusing to tease Chihiro and Hiyuki at all instead of going down the tired old path of obligated sub-par heterosexual ship tease/romance IMO.)

The Power of Love

Nice Heroic Second Wind you got after thinking about Chihiro there, Hakuri.

So this is definitely skewed towards pure delusion on my part, but that's what we're all here for anyway. Power of Friendship? Never heard of it.

Basically, person A uses their love for person B to power up and overcome the hardship they're facing. In this case, I'm interpreting Hakuri's tendency to think of Chihiro when he's in dire straits as romantic!

Hakuri comes in clutch a lot and his feelings abut Chihiro are the reason he can do it. The memory of his samurai refusing to yield gives Hakuri the strength to keep standing and finally put Soya down in chapter 36. He does it again in a sadder way in Chapter 58 when he thinks of Chihiro and musters the last of his strength to summon him too late to save Uruha. I have no doubt that he'll have more of these moments as the series goes on, too. Chihiro is kind of hope incarnate to Hakuri.

Chihiro's drawn strength from his feelings for Hakuri too, but not in a pinch kind of way like the Power of Love trope typically implies. I'm just waiting for the day when it's his turn to use memories of Hakuri to keep standing (never gonna happen)!

Ship Tease

Putting this here for lack of a better term, but there's a running gag about Hakuri and Chihiro's relationship that's been escalating in intensity since the early parts of the Rakuzaichi arc. It only comes across in bits and pieces in English compared to Japanese, sadly, but I'll do my best to explain it.

Basically, I'm interpreting the jokes about Hakuri acting like a dog as deliberate ship tease for the lols from the author.

"Paw. Shake. Good boy."

It starts in chapter 28 with Hakuri dropping everything he's doing to run over to Chihiro when his name is called. It's really cute and funny and not something that can get lost in translation- Chihiro calls, and Hakuri comes. Just like a loyal dog to it's master.

It's set aside for a while until the Sword Bearer Assassination Arc starts up and Hiyuki drops this banger during the trial in chapter 46:

"But where he [Hakuri] stands is a big pain in the butt. He's not the one calling the shots." - official TL

Of note is the term Hiyuki used to say that Chihiro's the one in charge: 舵取り [kajitori]. The normal meaning for it is "steering a boat" or "helmsman" with the secondary being leader/director, so it's not like the English TL messed up. Same meaning different wording. What's lost is the subtext: 舵取り as Hiyuki's using it can also imply that Chihiro's in charge of Hakuri like the owner of a dangerous guard dog would be lmao. Hakuri kind of earned that jab after threatening to leave her in the storehouse to die if she hurt Chihiro, though.

And then there's this completely unnecessary scene from Ch. 50...

"Who's this? This little squirt smells like Chihiro, but he's not Chihiro."- official TL

The TL again isn't bad here but it really downplays just how fucking weird Samura is (which downgrades the rocket propellant to mere ship fuel). Samura's phrasing about Hakuri smelling like Chihiro was so batshit insane in Japanese that fellow JP shippers felt compelled to reach out to the rest of us in English to let us know, which is almost completely unheard of.

Basically, Samura wasn't saying that Hakuri merely smelled like Chihiro. He actually said that Hakuri was wearing Chihiro's scent, completely enveloped in it to the point of smelling identical to him. A native JP reader (in the link above) said that in their interpretation, the word "まとって [matotte]" isn't really used for friends, but more for lovers, family members, or dogs and their owners in the sense that being so physically close all the time causes their scents to rub off on each other.

It's not a normal term used to describe smelling like someone in the first place. When Samura meets younger Chihiro in the flashback and says he "reeks of Rokuhira", he uses the typical word for "smell/scent" (香り [kaori]) in Japanese. So for some reason we just had to know that Hakuri smelled like Chihiro in the way dog or a lover would, huh... so much so that Samura thought he actually was Chihiro... (I can't get over this, it sends my sides into orbit every fucking time).

So yeah. That's some top-tier ship tease if I do say so myself. What that dog doin'? What did they get up to on the train before meeting with Uruha? That's for us to decide!

Soulmates

It's not exactly hard to see that Hakuri and Chihiro have a bit more going on between them than standard friendship or brotherhood, even for a shounen series. Even some dudebros acknowledged this before the fandom gave over to homophobic trash anyway.

It all stems from Hakuri invoking one of the most potent romantic tropes there is as soon as they meet:

"That day, a samurai lit my helpless existence on fire."

Jesus Christ Hakuri, that's some passion!

I think the "soulmates" trope is the most fitting description of what's going on between Hakuri and Chihiro from the very first time they meet. I'll even go so far to say that it actually has a pretty damn good case for being canon in a platonic sense!

For the uninitiated (like I was), the soulmates trope is invoked when two characters feel a strong and immediate connection upon first meeting each other. It can be one-sided or even completely rejected by both at the start, but they will always find their way to each other since they are fated to be. The whole world falls into kilter when they get together even if they were perfectly functional people on their own before. HakuHiro is this trope to a fucking T in my mind. Absolutely flawless execution, 10/10 no notes.

Hakuri's part is obvious- he sees Chihiro and decides he must have this amazing person in his life no matter what. He feels the pull of destiny and answers the call with an overabundance of enthusiasm.

Chihiro's part is more subtle. He does the one-sided rejection thing at the start by running away, but fate pulls them together via circumstance and he takes Hakuri back with him. And somehow, for some reason, Hakuri is the first person he opens up about his genuine feelings to in a surprisingly raw way:

"If I don't do something, and a sacred blade takes the lives of innocent people... I wouldn't be able to bear that..."

He met the guy minutes ago, tried to run away from him, then decided to bear his heart to him in the elevator. Chihiro's a natural stoic who doesn't show much of what he's feeling and generally keeps thoughts like this to himself. But Hakuri brings out this softer, more vulnerable side to him that no other character has before. Then as the arc progresses, Chihiro comes to rely on Hakuri more and more until it's crazy to think that he ever ran away in the first place. It's like they were always meant to find and save each other.

I'm not looking too hard at this with shipping goggles strapped to my face. We get confirmation that this is what's going on with them via The Word of God Himself:

From the Volume 4 description: 一方、兄からの愛と暴力によって地に伏した伯理。今際の際に脳裏を過ったのは、ある少女との日々だった。極限の中、二人の少年の魂が呼応する。

"Meanwhile, Hakuri is struck down by his brother's love and violence. On the brink of death, he remembers the days he spent with a certain girl. In the midst of this extreme tension, the souls of both boys resonate with each other."

The last sentence is basically more total harmony/Aun imagery for Hakuri and Chihiro. 呼 (ko) means to call and 応 (ou) means to respond. Together, 呼応 means to act in concert. So Hakuri and Chihiro's souls call out and respond to each other in perfect sync when they're in dire straits. It's canon!

If that's not enough, then there's also the Aun imagery. It was left out of the EN Chapter 38 colour page as usual (never gonna forgive the EN version for removing the text), but basically the author used deliberate religious imagery to tell us that Chihiro and Hakuri have an inherently harmonious relationship. A and Un, in perfect sync- whatever one starts, the other will finish. The beginning and end of all things. A perfect pair.

They demonstrate this lethal effectiveness by working in tandem during the storehouse fight, with Chihiro only needing to yell Hakuri's name for Hakuri to perfectly interpret everything he's thinking and execute on it flawlessly. It's absolutely insane stuff even if we disregard Hakuri only woke up to his power less than an hour ago in-universe isn't it?! And they repeated the stunt the next day while protecting Uruha, so it wasn't just a one-off for a cool moment. It's core to their dynamic for their souls to resonate in total harmony!

And just to top it off, we got a funny little gag of Chihiro and Hakuri passing out and waking up at the same time side-by-side after the auction, totally in sync.

All of this within a week of meeting each other.

Some actual romantic soulmate couples don't get this much effort put into coding their relationship, just saying. I also don't think people would be so quick to jump on the sibling interpretation after Shiba's "What are ya, twins?" joke if Hakuri and Chihiro were a heterosexual ship option, just sayin'.

Unknowingly in Love

No sad pictures of dead Kunishige in this post!

This is another one that's far closer to fanon than canon. It banks on the fact that both of them grew up isolated and, quite frankly, probably poorly socialized compared to the rest of the world.

Chihiro lived with just his dad in a remote mountain home and only occasionally visited the town nearby with Shiba. No friends, no school even. Hakuri lived on the secluded Sazanami estate surrounded by his family and saw some of the outside world, but likely only the criminal elements of it. Plus there's the whole growing up only knowing love as something abusive and manipulative thing; even his parent's marriage was strongly implied to be arranged and joyless. Neither of these guys have anything decent in their personal lives to reference from!

So in my mind, while Hakuri and Chihiro have certainly heard of romantic love and thought about it themselves, they wouldn't really have an idea of what it feels or looks like to them. Couple that with being each other's first friends ever and you've got some extremely potent fluff (or angst) about them being unaware that what they're feeling isn't platonic.

You Are Worth Hell

I will follow you into the dark.

And to round things off, one of my favourite romance tropes ever! But it's not canon at all- YET.

You see, Hakuri and Chihiro are constantly pulling each other forward. When one stumbles, the other's there with a helping hand. But what happens when one descends into hell like Chihiro says he's doing this very arc? Will the other try to throw them a lifeline and hope for the best?

Nay! The other will stay by their side out of love.

This trope can veer too close to toxic situationship scenarios for comfort, it's true. Characters staying to "save" someone or letting themself get dragged down at their own expense is not healthy at all. But the core sentiment of this trope is that anything is bearable if you're with the one you love. The emphasis isn't on the mutual suffering but rather the comfort of being together despite it all.

My personal interpretation of the relationship between Hakuri and Chihiro is that one was born in hell (Hakuri) and the other has condemned himself to it (Chihiro). Hakuri's trying to rise up while Chihiro has consigned himself to sink further into the darkness. They met at at a crossroads on their respective journeys and are walking together for a while. And when Chihiro takes a turn to keep going further down, I think Hakuri will stop him from going too far. Hakuri will be the light in the gloom until the mission's over. Then they'll figure out if they can make it back up or not. And if they can't? Well, he was already at rock bottom before Chihiro came into his life. It's worth it to stay in hell at his side and face everything together.

So I think this can apply very well to HakuHiro as the current arc progresses. Hakuri choosing to stay as a partner to provide support rather than trying to save Chihiro at his own expense would be huge character growth for him. And Chihiro accepting Hakuri's gesture would be growth for him too- he doesn't have to do this alone. There's no truly Bad End for their stories if they are walking side-by-side to face the hardships together until the end.

That's it. If you got through all this, thanks. Yap at me about tropes I missed! I love hearing the myriad ways other people interpret this ship. Unless you think fixed left-right boring seme/uke stereotype ChiHaku is the only valid interpretation, in which case we can never be friends. Sorry not sorry.

[jazzingout]

Hot Tea

Sitri x Amy(Kinda), ABO AU, not beta read, kinda nsfw-

A/N: I RETURN FROM THE CURSE AND SORRY FOR ANY OOCNESS AND ALSO NOT BETA READ, also do enjoy my version of an Omegaverse(I can explain it in another post if asked!(may still explain it but its late and i may pass out soon-))

It wasn’t very common for devils to be omegas, the ability to breed with other devils was a gift given to not many. It was considered a bit of a blessing to be an omega.

But right now Amy didn’t feel very blessed or gifted. Everything ached, his thighs were soaked with his slick, his dick was hard and his holes were far too empty for his current taste.

Almost every noble had given Amy some kind of garment or item to help him through his heat. He was surrounded by the comforting scents of his colleagues and his majesty Satan. Their familiar pack scents helped soothe the ache deep inside of him.

But something was missing.

Amy wanted them here, to touch him, to fuck him, to praise him, to degrade him. He wanted his pack with him right now, their comforting scents and presence to help him during his heat.

Amy hates heats, they take him out of commission for a week, unable to fight and help hell. He is weak, unbelievably horny with no relief, and he can’t help with the war going on which makes him feel even worse.

Amy just wants his pack. His pack of Gehenna’s nobles and Satan, he didn’t care what they did, he just wants them.

“Amy are you okayyyy?” Paimon's voice snapped Amy out of his thoughts and turned his head to the door where Paimon stood with a tray of food. “I knocked but you didn’t answerrr, so i came in to check on youuu.”

Amy wanted to tell Paimon he’s fine, to thank him for bringing him food, but all that came out of his mouth was a high pitched whine and a broken sob. He watched Paimon’s eyes widened as he quickly placed the tray of food on Amy’s desk and hurried to his side. Paimon went to softly cooing and shushing Amy, petting his sweaty hair and holding him close,

Paimon continued to run his fingers through Amy’s sweaty locks as Amy whined and buried his face in Paimon’s chest. Paimon’s scent of bubblegum and blood helped soothe Amy slightly, but it wasn’t enough. His instincts were yelling at him for something. What it was, he didn’t know.

Amy sobbed as he nuzzled Paimon’s chest, hands clinging to the ruffles of his sleeves. “Amyyy, its okayyy,” Paimon cooed, continuing his gentle touches. “What can I do to helppp?”

Amy’s heat riddled brain, trying to figure out how to make it better, to get what is missing, spoke before his regular mind could catch up.

“Sitri,” Amy gasped, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

Sitri was the only noble who hadn’t given Amy a garment for his heats, Amy originally not wanting it and Sitri not offering it. But his mind right now, wanted his scent of tea flowers, of freshly brewed tea. He wanted to be surrounded by all the scents of Gehenna’s pack, to be surrounded by familiarity and Sitri was missing.

Amy sobbed once more and shivered, a wave of arousal swept over him and tried his best to bury his face more into Paimon’s chest. He breathed in Paimon’s scent and closed his eyes, shivering as he tried to soothe his mind and focus on Paimon’s hands running through his hair.

The scent of freshly brewed tea and tea flowers made Amy lift his head. In front of Amy stood Sitri, beautiful face staring down at him. Amy tried to sit up, reaching a hand out to him. Sitri dodge his hand and Amy couldn’t keep the whine in when he couldn’t grab Sitri.

“I thought you said it was urgent,” Sitri glanced at Paimon. “This doesn’t seem urgent.”

“Amyyy said your name when I asked what could helppp, he’s not doing so gooddd,” Paimon said as he continued to run his fingers through Amy’s locks. Sitri frowned at Amy, looking down at him. Amy’s cheeks were flushed, skin shiny with sweat, and smelled strongly of his heat pheromones.

“What do-” Amy grabbed Sitri’s arm when he looked at Paimon, pulling Sitri closer. Sitri frowned at Amy, but let him tug him forward. Amy brought his arm to his face, taking in Sitri’s scent. He let out a sigh of relief, relaxing on Paimon’s lap and clinging Sitri’s arm.

Paimon looked between the two before letting out a small, “ohhh”. Sitri looked at Paimon confused and like he wanted him to explain. “Amy doesn’t have a garment from youuu,” Paimon said with a smile on his face. “Sitriiii, you should give him somethinggg.”

“He never asked for one-”

“Well he seems to want one nowww.”

Sitri frowned, looking like he just bit a sour lemon. Paimon looked at Sitri, a firm expression on his face. Amy just kept nuzzling into Sitri’s arm and shirt, enjoying that things seemed complete right now.

Amy doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, Sitri’s shirt was in his nest. A small smile graced his, bringing it closer for him to inhale his scent. It warmed his body and made lower parts of him demand some attention.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and tea flowers helped calm Amy’s mind, and made the rest of his heat more bearable.

[citricacidprince]

I don't know if anyone already asked this question, but I need to get it out of my brain.

What do you imagine a meeting between the Stan twins from your version of Relativity Falls and the original Stan twins would be like? (before or after the Weirdmageddon, although I'm more curious about the after lol)

Oooough the idea of the Relativity Baby Stans meeting the OG Old Men Stans makes me wanna combussssst!!!

The possibilities!!! 💥💥💥

(I’ll be using full names for the OG twins (Stanley & Stanford) and nicknames for the Relativity twins (Lee & Ford) for the sake of consistency lmao)

If it’s pre-Weirdmageddon for both the OG show and Relatively falls I can imagine the Stan’s are having a great time while the Ford’s are also having a kinda fun time but it’s a little…

You see, if you thought Stanford was projecting with Dipper when he was trying to get him to stay in Gravity Falls, you can only IMAGINE how bad it’s gonna get when he meets Ford. Stanford would unintentionally make the Relativity twin’s bond even more strained because he would confirm everything Ford has been told by his teachers and his father, that he needs to be his own person and Lee is holding him back. On the cuter side I like to think Stanley would give Lee a sweet pep talk about not letting anyone push him around or let him feel belittled, then he’d teach Lee how to throw a mean left hook! Who says you can’t be your own father figure, hmm?

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for the OG show but not Relativity Falls, the Stan boys, again, are having a great time, even more-so now that Stanley has this cool Sailor aesthetic going on for him! This time Stanford would very gently tell Ford that he shouldn’t listen to what anyone else says, especially their father. They don’t have anything to prove to anyone. And I think Ford would actually listen if it was Stanford telling him this. After all, who knows you better than yourself?

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for Relativity Falls and not the OG show, good fucking luck separating the Relativity twins! They are attached at the hip and if Stanford ever tried to gently ease them apart Ford just might bite his arm! The entire thing is an extremely sore subject and even though Lee and Stanley are used to mean spirited jabs and back handed compliments, if Stanford even as so grumbles something slightly mean about Stanley or Lee under his breath Ford will not hesitate to explode on him. Lee always has to tell Ford that it’s alright while Stanley can’t help but find their attachment to each other sweet and nostalgic, something he really misses. Stanford can’t understand why Ford seems to be so protective over Lee, 10 times more than he was as a child, and the two refuse to talk about it. (Don’t worry Stanford, you’ll find out soon enough :] )

If it’s post-Weirdmageddon for both the OG show and Relativity Falls, then oooooh boy I wanna combust on the spot!!!!

I can so vividly see the older men lighting up at the younger versions of them, nostalgia and ‘Oh man were we really that small?’ running through both their minds as they happily chat with the cute little goobers. Then I can see the horror on Stanley and Stanford’s faces when they realize these two kids had to go through the same twin swap and subsequent mind wipe they had to go through. They’re just little kids, just a little older than Mabel and Dipper, they didn’t deserve that.

When Ford’s hands shake and he can’t stop tears from falling down his round cheeks when he gets flashes to himself holding the memory gun to his brother’s head, Stanley’s the one to gently cover the kid’s polydactyl hands with his own and grumble soft comforting words until the kid is about to fall asleep from how hard he was crying.

When Lee has a huge lapse in memory and takes a while to remember once again, Stanford holds Lee close to his chest and isn’t able to stop silent tears from falling down his face. The silent tears only get worse when Lee, despite not even able to remember who Stanford is at the moment, tries to comfort and wipe away the older man’s tears.

These boys make me soooo ill I wanna combust :]

[glisten-inthedark]

I decided to analyze the pizza place scene before the ily scene because I’m avoiding it like the plague but now my brain is buzzing

‘Cause it’s been said before that Mike sounds more like he’s gonna apologize here than confess his love for El and I agree

But damn oh damn is his body language here FASCINATING

For one thing he briefly hesitates before putting his hand in El’s and it’s quite a light grip initially

Then when he brings up their argument—which he calls a “talk” when previously he’d called it a “bad fight it feels like you can’t come back from” to Will, bro—he is soooo halting in his speech. He’s so nervous but it doesn’t feel like an excited nervous or anticipatory or like he’s gearing up to say something big-but-positive—a big positive he knows for a fact El wants to hear from him. He’s even told Will a couple times in different roundabout ways that if he had “said the thing” then maybe she would’ve wanted him to go with her, so he knows it’s something she wants to hear. 100% knows it.

And then we get a close up and I swear, he looks scared. Genuinely scared. There’s no tiny smile or hesitant hope in his eyes or anything like that after he brings up the “talk.” The only time there’s hope or joy in his eyes is when El says she missed him, and he looks really relieved (imo that’s likely because her saying that seems to put validity in Will’s insistence that she does need him). But that relief is gone once he brings up the “talk.”

“Oh he’s just insecure!” “he’s afraid to say it and make losing her hurt more!” bullshit and that’s been broken down and analyzed before already so I’ll just move on lmao

Then when he continues and says “I guess” and “I don’t know” and “I just wanted to say” he stops sustaining/maintaining eye contact and can barely even look at her. if he was about to say ily for the first time, wouldn’t you expect eye contact??? Longer than a few brief glances???? And at least look like he’s gathering his courage and wearing a brave face with a bit of anticipation?? Right before they’re interrupted, the look on his face is so somber. Melancholy. He looks guilty.

And right before he says “I guess,” he goes “I—“ and then his shoulders just slump, almost like he’s letting out a huff of breath or felt a wave of anxiety punch his stomach or is resigning to something, and his head does that side-to-side not-shake thing that to me conveys reluctance or hesitation or doubt, I can’t place it exactly but it reminds me of something Joyce sometimes does when she’s anxious. That whole shot when he says “I guess,” is so telling and so FASCINATING how could anyone look at his body language and face in that shot and think he’s about to tell El in this moment that he loves her??

And even if you watch El’s face without the music—she doesn’t look excited to me. There’s no hope in her eyes or smile starting to grow. If you look right at the end of her last shot before Argyle interupts, she looks concerned or like she’s realizing something, but not something good.

The music here tricks you SO BAD, it sounds anticipatory, hopeful, it sounds like we’re in El’s head and it’s her hope swelling a bit—especially because I checked and right when it swells, it’s the Still Pretty track that plays during their almost kiss in season 1, which also got interrupted. But if you look at Mike??? If you look at El without the music??? If you LISTEN to MIKE???? Boy was about to apologize, not confess.

Oh I absolutely love that scene for exactly the reason you pointed out. He was not about to tell her what he knew she wanted it to hear.

The more we break apart everything, the clearer things become.

[slvtforfiction]

Stalker!Ghost brainrot

☆ Stalker!Ghost is ruining my brain

☆ Ghost X Reader

☆ TW stalking obvs

☆ New account layout,will try change old layout as much as possible,requests are open.

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Divider creds to @cafekitsune :)

Masterlist | Pinned Post | Part 2

☆ He’s a shadow himself so becoming a second shadow to you is particularly easy.

☆ Not to say you don’t notice anything’s wrong,you’re paranoid constantly,you feel like someone’s watching you but you can never really pinpoint it and so you sigh daily and quietly accept that you might be going insane.

☆ You start to realise when you come home from the gym,unloading your washing from the dryer and realising that all of your panties are missing and the laundry looks like someone had sifted through it.

☆ That night you don’t sleep,you cry most of the night,shaking and flinching when you hear a noise,scared that someone or something is out to get you.

☆ But Ghost’s not that silly, he’s watching you cry through the window,sighing to himself. He didn’t want his girl to be upset.

☆ As you clamber your way out of bed the next morning,most of the night spent in floods of tears and paranoia,you make your way to work quietly,looking over your shoulder as you walk into town.

☆ Ghost is watching from the shadows and as you open up shop he’s your first customer,getting his morning coffee as you try to put on a smile for the day of work,after all it’s not this strangers fault that your so paranoid.

☆ Ghost gets bold,walking into your house whenever he pleases,he even has a copy of your key at the point.

☆ Ghost doesn’t know what comes over him but after smashing one of your favourite mugs he frowns and places a sticky note on the counter next to five £20 notes.

☆ As you come home from work you still feel paranoid,almost depressed from how watched you felt.

☆ You opened your front door,slowly peaking in almost expecting someone to jump out at you but you see nothing but an empty house.

☆ You walk in cautiously and take off your shoes before walking into your kitchen,looking at the money and sticky note as you enter,suddenly the fear returns,coursing through your body before you read the note.

☆ Sorry love didn’t mean to break your mug,bit of cash to get yourself a new one

Love,ghost.

☆ In a flash decision you decide to find a pen and paper,scribbling down any thoughts left in your head.

☆ Who are you? Please don’t hurt me,if I’ve done something that wronged you in any way I’m so so sorry and I’ll make up for it any way you want I promise,just please don’t hurt me

☆ Your fear doesn’t subside as you walk up to your bedroom,it’s almost like the stalker is taunting you,waiting for you to lose your guard.

☆ You make your way to bed,once again without an inkling of sleep yet once you trudge down the stairs in the morning thankful you don’t have work today you see that your paper is gone and replaced with a sticky note.

☆ I’m not going to hurt you sweets,don’t you worry your pretty little head,I just wanna help you.

Love,Ghost.

Hey guys if you like this post you should follow my Wattpad to get a notification when I post my ghost fic! It’s Christmas themed,slow burn and I know you’ll all definitely love it - Char 💞

Wattpad

out nov 25th 00:00 gmt*

[mothprincess]

it took so long to feel taken seriously that i sometimes feel that i have little fight left in me. but then i remember that this is when i need fight most; i finally have a chance. i spent a good 15+ years with horrific brain fog. i don’t miss that time; i’m surprised that i made it to the other side. if there is anything that made me genuinely want to believe in something like a god, it is this change in my luck. i’ve joked that i must have used up all of my bad luck in my childhood, as bad things that happen now hardly compare to it.

i envy those who look back on their childhoods fondly but then i remember how useless envy is and how some people have bad luck forever. such changes in my life have been jarring but i pretend that i am confident and sleek these days, like a pretty gift box wrapped with a fresh ribbon. i tell myself good things about myself until i half believe it for the sake of my health; no one can take that away from me. fake confidence is powerful. not much scares me and loud men don’t intimidate me. i have bigger dreams now because why not? although success isn’t my goal. i’d like to live life as i’d like, express myself as i’d like, and learn forever.

i try to be kind even when i don’t want to be; sometimes i am not successful.

[prncssie]

TWO ⎯⎯ ★ s. ryomen m. list

content warning minors and trump supporters do not interact. neither are welcome here. in this specific chapter, it gets suggestive towards the end but there is no on page smut. you can expect consensual groping in a public setting and "dick" is written once. also, the bouncer is described as creepy and acts as such but his appearance is short

WHEN I GROW UP

you thought when you strolled through the glass doors of an acting agency, — a grand building lined with glass walls, allowing the sunlight to filter into the lobby — you’d be greeted with warm smiles and maybe even a mint. this is not what you were expecting. it smells clean, citrusy, like fresh squeezed lemons and pine. the hardwood flooring, tan and matte, are smooth beneath your new balances. it’s nearly glittering a pathway guiding you to the front desk. your resume, shielded behind the manilla folder, is tucked tightly to your chest. you’ve even worn your best off-duty outfit, aiming for something simple to show off your spark. a black tube top and black jeans, perfect for forcing focus to your face full of sweet features, dollike and docile enough to render a certain impression on camera, you hope.

“hi,” you speak soft at first, a smile gracing your mouth when the receptionist lifts her head. “yeah, um, my name is ⭐︎ and i heard you had an open call today.” you can’t help the way your shoulders inch up towards your ear, a subconscious way of making yourself smaller, biting away at the ball of white hot nervousness rolling in the base of your tummy. “i was hoping to get in on that.”

it’s a shame her blonde bun is pulled so tight, straining what little polite receptors she has in her system because all the receptionist does is size you up with so much of a twitch of her glossed lips. she doesn’t smile when she slaps the clipboard atop the reflective material of the black desk. “sign here,” for a millisecond, if you'd even count it that, her lips pull tight upwards before she’s returning to whatever she was doing before, nails clacking against the keyboard. “head down that hall to the left. they’ll give you a number. wait for it to be called.”

as soon as you’re finished scribbling the black gen pen down on the white sheet, boxes full of signatures, pages stacked on over the other, she takes it back with a flat palm, dragging it over the open space. “break a leg.” and then it’s as if you were never there. you fade into the background. perhaps in her eyes, you’ve dissipated into light particles. “thanks so much,” is all you can say, lifting your eyebrows with an unamused grin, “brenda.” you catch her name off the nameplate as you leave.

this has to be normal, right? it’s not like hospitality comes with the service, if you can even call it that. people are snobby, thinking their proximity to the stars gives them some sort of privilege or immunity. sure, you wouldn’t normally take such disrespect or disregard for you as a person but maybe you could consider it as a good thing. a blessing in disguise, a side effect of success. this is the closest you’ve been to being in something bigger than yourself, an open call for anything other than a commercial for whole milk or sponsorship from some website.

you have to believe it. otherwise . . .

down the hall and the left, right? you couldn’t miss it if you tried. the bodies milling about give enough clue as to what was going on, numbers taped and pinned to shirts, pants, skirts. the jitters that you swallowed, or tried to, threaten to break free, itching just below the surface of your skin. your mouth is dry but far too wet at the same time. are you drooling? but when your hand lifts to your lips, disguised as checking for lipgloss rolling too far out of place, you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. still, with each step  closer to the check-in table, your brain cannot stop formulating new possibilities of embarrassment. you could trip, you could forget your lines, you could throw up. none of it’s helping, especially when they’re looking at you with such expecting gazes. getting the number is the easy part, though. all you have to do is write your name down and pick it up. alike many of the others, you opt to tape it, pressing the sticky adhesive into the denim of your pants.

you find yourself in your own desolate space in the hallway, stuck between warm bodies rehearsing their lines and casting sparing glances at the competition around them. you’re unsure where to look. there’s nothing particularly beneficial about staring down the other wannabe actors around you but the idea of focusing so hard on the tiling doesn’t seem too idealistic, either. you’ve always been told it’s best to stand tall anyway, pushing an aura of confidence, even if it’s fake.

and so you do for as long as you stand there. you push your shoulders back and force all that tension between your shoulder blades, straightening your posture for as long as the situation demands. evidently, until your casting is over and you get to return home.

it’s a slow process, slower than you think it would be. you were sure when you left work a few hours ago that you’d have enough time to rinse the smell of fryer grease and burgers off your skin — you’ve since replaced it with silky strawberry lotion and powdery vanilla perfume — and arrive with more than enough time to spare. of course, you did hope it wouldn’t take too long, maybe an hour or two to finish the whole thing. however, when you pull your phone out of your little black prada shoulder bag, you learn that more than three hours have passed.

that’s a ridiculous amount of time to stand, waiting as others go into that room and leave with smiles on their faces or tears in their eyes. sometimes, they don’t have an expression at all. they simply open that heavy door and wander down the hallway, leaving an air of mystery as to what could have happened. you like to fantasize, making up stories about each person and what they could have possibly done to fail. it’s your only entertainment, one that sends you into a trance-like state as you watch and eye each passerby.

it works for a while, dulling your boredom while you wait for your turn. you would have missed the sudden whispery uproar if it weren’t for the girl beside you. her hair brushes against your arm when she turns her head to whisper to the person next to you. instinctively, you cover the tickled area with your palm and look over, bringing your attention closer to the chatter. it’s bit unexpected how suddenly it rises. in just a few minutes, the dull crowd, tired of standing and waiting, begins to buzz with excitement. around you, people whisper, eyes gawking and following figures moving through the hall.

at first glance, it doesn’t take you long to identify just who is attracting all this uproar. even if people weren’t damn near pointing at the hulking figure disregarding his attention, you’d recognize him regardless. it’s hard to miss the dyed pink hair, black roots peaking just below the tufts. his undercut is just as crisp as the pictures, fresh from recent maintenance. there’s a smirk tugging at his lips, arrogant and knowing, like all the attention he’s receiving simply strokes his ego, filling up his head with pride. he walks in a saunter, fingers wrapped around his phone and tilting his head in the onlookers direction. you can get glimpses of his iconic black gel polish, catching the glimmer of the overhead lighting.

sukuna ryomen, one of the greatest stars in the industry at this very moment. the it boy, the icon, the muse of most directors. you could be seeing too far into things when he passes you, but for a second, when your eyes make contact, there’s a particular . . . tension. perhaps you’re imagining it, a warped notion in your head that blended reality with fantasy, but his eyebrows furrow, just slightly. they twitch, jumping upwards before letting you become one with the rest of his admirers.

“ – role in another movie,” it’s a whisper coming from beside you, a comment made in his wake, after he had already made his appearance and left a notable impact. “that’s what i heard, at least. i think it’s a thriller. some psychological shit.”

a thriller? the sukuna ryomen in a thriller? it’s been a while since there’s been a movie you’be been genuinely excited to see but the prospect of such a big name with an equally big aura taking on a role like that? you’re already itching with anticipation at the thought. you wish you could be there, watch him rehearse his lines, see how he prepares for the role. there’s endless lessons you an take out of his book but you’ll never have the chance. not as long as you’re just someone auditioning and he’s at the top of the ranks.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

“no, cherry. i’m not getting the role.” you’re shoving airpods into your ears as you dejectedly make your way out the building. you pull your bag even farther on your shoulder, ignoring the harsh squeals your shoes make when you don’t entirely lift them off the ground. it’s what they deserve anyway, this whole company, after throwing you to the side like that. it contrasts with the clicks of heels and draws judging glares towards you but you ignore them. they’re nothing and they mean nothing after setting up such a massive event, one that you spent weeks preparing for, just for it to be pointless. “turns out, they already had someone in mind. it’s such —,” you pause, just long enough to step outside the glass doors, “such bullshit.”

“aw, honey,” her sweet southern drawl does little to comfort you as warm as it is. if anything, the empathy dripping from it riles you up further. she means well, truly. cherry is as disappointed as you are. in the short span of working together, she’s become something of a confidant, the only person who knows your goals of reaching the stars. it’s not a secret you hold close to your heart for any particular reason. it’s just . . . well, it’s just this. no one wants people to know about their setbacks. you wouldn’t find any joy in sharing your worst failures.

cherry is different, though. she’s kind about it. she has a big heart, keeping in negative comments she might have to herself. besides, cherry has a dream, too, to walk in fashion week. it was a drunken confession, sitting on the floor of your studio apartment after consuming enough white wine to send you both into fits of giggles. you considered it a housewarming.

“how do you know that? did they tell you?” she has to raise her voice over the beeping fryer alarm and the rustling around her. of course in normal cherry fashion, she picks up the phone during work hours when business is slow and she has time to waste.

“they don’t have to tell me for me to know.” you want to press your hands into your eyes, perhaps lay down beneath your sheets and hide away from the world until the fury building inside withers away. “i went in there and did my audition. they were all like ‘oh, ⭐︎, you did so good. you look so cute on camera, you’re so talented’,” you raise your voice a couple octaves to mock the casting directors, rolling your brown eyes in tandem with your words. “that’s not what they actually said but whatever. the point is, some girl walks in and they’re all over her.”

you click your tongue in a fluid motion, scrolling through the app library in search of whichever rideshare app you’ve downloaded since moving out here. with what little income you make, there’s no way you’ll be able to afford a car for the next couple of months, or even years in this economy. a ten minute ride back to your home is nothing compared to the cost of car payments and gas. “i’ve never seen her before, which is the crazy part. i don’t remember what they said her name was. edamame, uraume, whatever the fuck.”

“wait, no. i’ve heard of that name before. i’m pretty sure she was in that show with that guy.” for a moment, you hear her pause, presumably directing her attention to someone else. “yeah, honey. i’ll be right with you, m’kay? listen, ⭐︎, i gotta go, but i’ll see you tonight. we’re still on for tonight, right? i’ll take you out to this place i know. you’ll love it. i hear lotsa famous people go there. maybe you’ll meet someone who can get you a fancy role.”

your eyes settle on the dark colored sedan underlined with an identifying combination of letters and numbers. it’s only a couple dollars and you have the money to spare. you didn’t feel particularly inclined to walk those couple blocks, anyway. you find her words sort of . . . comforting, now. as optimistic as such a small possibility seems, the idea of simply running into someone worthwhile all while dancing the night away excites you. as unlikely as such an easy shortcut to success is, you still consider the small chance to be a chance at all.

“yeah, okay,” you respond with a distant sounding voice as you navigate through the nine dollar payment. it takes a few seconds for the screen to reload, proposing you begin to make your way to the pickup location. “i’ll see you later.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

the club cherry took you to, it’s everything and nothing you expected it to be at the same time. you scrolled through pictures of the three story building on google reviews while cherry showered, filling up the small confines of her bathroom with steam and the scent of dove cucumber body wash; she insisted on you getting ready at her place after seeing the lackluster apparel hanging in your closet. you didn’t think they were that bad and yet, she parroted on and on that the bouncer would not let you in the clothes you planned on wearing. and she was right, he wouldn’t. here he stood, scrutinizing and slightly predatory gaze across each clubgoer. he took his time with the women, eyebrow quirking when someone particularly piqued his interest. gross, but expected.

it’s just as lively as you thought it would be, people milling around the entrance with id in hand. occasionally, the cars driving by would slow down and glance at the pedestrians, some gathered in groups and drunkenly skipping down the pavement. the lights are flashy, the people are giggly. it's exactly as a club scene should be. the only thing that’s missing is . . . well, the music.

you make note of it as you stand in line, arms wrapped around your body and shifting your weight from leg to leg. there’s no music, at least none you can hear. back in your little town closer to the rural edges of the countryside, you spent quite enough time at the club. you treated it as your own personal spotlight, finding great fun in putting on different personas to enchant men for the night. it could be considered where your love for acting really started, or maybe not. maybe you just sound crazy.

“okay, when we get up there,” cherry leans into you, ducking her head to get her words more clearly heard in your ear. she’s already a couple inches taller than you and with the heels on her black boots pushing her up, those inches became more than just a couple, “don’t say anythin’. well, you can speak but i’ll handle most of it. mike is real fickle. he likes to flirt with the girls and if you don’t make him happy, you don’t get in.” 

“you brought me to a place where the girls are forced to be creeped on by the bouncer for admission?”

cherry clicks her tongue at your words. she follows the flow of the line and takes a step forward, momentarily looking over her shoulder to meet your eyes. “sometimes he doesn’t make us pay.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

you’re drunk. you don’t have to ask someone to know. there’s no need for a breathalyzer, no need to hang of cherry’s shoulder and smile that pink-lipped, sugar-coated, loopy smile. the confirmation is in the way you walk. it’s in your tingling hands and your tingling lips. it’s in your airy laughter and your slurred words as you teeter across the dance floor. it’s in the way you sit now, perched on the edge of a chair and drunkenly kissing . . . someone. a girl, a guy, you don’t know. it wouldn’t make any difference really.

they’re probably just as drunk as you are, hands gripping and pulling at  your dress, or rather the dress you borrowed. in the back of your mind, you’re scowling and making note to check for snags later, considering how ungracious they’re being. so much so that you’ve been tasked with the responsibility of tugging your dress up every so often as the constant threat of your boobs slipping out. 

you’re not enjoying this, not as much as you want to be. you’re meant to loosen up, get out there, “make connections, whatever that means to you”, as cherry said in her honeyed dialect. that’s what you hoped to do, connect your mouth to another’s in a way that enthralled you in a more lustrous way, with tensions that weigh heavy in a bubble that surrounds you and makes you hungry for more.

you kind of sit there while they begin to mouth along your jawline with more tongue than you prefer. the distaste hits you strong enough you to put your hands on their shoulders after minutes of kissing starving lips. with a firm grasp, you push just slightly, politely even. you still give them that drunken smile even with the sudden detachment and rise to your feet. the base of your shoes knock against the metal leg of the chair and you stumble a few steps on your way up. “i will be right back.” you doubt your voice carries over the bass-boosted music. the beat alone vibrates the floor and rattles your brain in your skull. you both know this isn’t true, or at least you know and that’s enough for you. your toothy smile is concealed as your face falls to rest and you turn, purposefully taking a winding route through the crowd.

you lost cherry a while ago. in retrospect, she’s a bit of a terrible friend for vanishing like that so suddenly with the assumption that you’d be fine. the fault really lied in the decision that you should both drink tonight, as if two wasted girls were ever a good idea. however, it’s too late to be playing the blame game. you’re already taking wobbly strides under the strobe lights while a mixture of house and electronic plays in the background. there’s no real destination you’re heading towards. you follow the movement of the crowd, swaying and leaning. left, right, left, right.

in the moment, staying just where you are is appealing. it calls to you like a siren’s song, begging and pleading with you to stay. have another drink, kiss someone else, live under the colored lights. before you know it, you’re dancing to the music. it’s not what you’d typically listen to but when you’ve had this many shots in those cute little glasses, anything will do. your eyes are still closed as you dance, pulling moves from your mental catalog of video vixens and pop icons. it’s a mess, a flurry of arms and legs. your hair becomes an accessory, an extension of yourself, an object of seduction when you brush it out your face. your hips find the beat with ease and you find enjoyment in being alone, despite knowing you probably should be apprehensive.

it doesn’t take long before there’s a hand settled on your hip, hovering at first, waiting for permission to make contact with your skin. you spot it somehow in your drunken haze and take a hold of it without hesitation. you stamp the hand against your hip, ruffling the dress you adorn beneath their light hold. you only have a short moment to glance over your shoulder and assess the stranger you have welcomed into your one person party. he’s a pleasing sight, although slightly obscured by the blinding overhead lighting, constantly moving and flashing shades of blue, purple, and red. you catch tufts of black and pink lips upturned into a smirk.

it’s good enough for you so you turn and bend at the waist, dipping your head and letting your soft curls toss over your crown. you push the clothed and plush fat of your ass against the stiff fabric of this stranger’s jeans. you both move in an enthralling whirl. you just, met, or rather just become aware of each other’s presence, but somehow you mesh together in a balanced blend of bodies and flirtatious glances.

his hand is firm on your chest. he can feel the warmth of your bare skin where the dress leaves you exposed. he’s pleased to discover he can also feel the swell of your breasts and where they begin to deviate from your otherwise leveled skin. he has to bend at the waist to get to you, but once he does, you’re back to standing, chest to back and a grin on your face. his breath is hot on your ear and his voice is deep. it warms your drunken insides like a warm cider, thoroughly spiced. “are you here with someone?”

your feet tangle with themselves as you turn to face him. you’re careful, slow, calculating each step and maintaining your balance with a strong grip of his forearms. you squeeze and hum at the strong muscle relaxed beneath. “maybe, probably. if she’s still here.” you’re moving again, languidly resting your arm over his shoulder. “what’s your name?” you have to place a hand over the top of your head to cover your eyes from the glaring color changing lights. he looks familiar, extremely familiar. however, you’re drunk and it’s dark. you aren’t so concerned with placing a distinct name to a face and more concerned with what you’ll be calling this person you presume you’re going home with tonight.

sure, it wasn’t what you originally believed yourself to be doing. the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, nor would you do this on any other occasion but it’s your first night out in a new town. you’ve had the letdown of a century and your boss is absolute shit, never showing up to do anything but complain and order you around. with a pretty boy right at your fingertips, why should you deny yourself? just for one night, at least.

it takes him a second. you assume he doesn’t quite hear you over the music bumping in the background because he blinks, dark eyebrows drawing together just slightly, and that smirk is returning right back on his pink lips. “kuyo,” his hands downwards, smoothening under the crease of your butt.

“unusual name but whatever you say.” your eyes track him low-lidded and just barely disguising the hearts beginning to form in your eyes. he moves close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. it reeks of something strong, something like henessey cocktailed with a flurry of drinks downed without a second thought.

kuyo can only chuckle, one that goes unheard in your ears. he ignores your little comment, experimentally grazing his fingers along your body, both clothed and unclothed while gauging your reaction. and when he finds none, just your sweet smile, he continues pulling and squeezing and groping with little regard for those around you. you’re in a club. people should expect to see a little frisking. “i don’t like beating around the bush and i’m sure you’re a smart girl so you know what i’m gonna say. do you want to go back with me or not? we’d have to go to yours though. roommates.”

you almost laugh. there’s already a giggle building in your throat at his sheer audacity. kuyo didn’t even ask. he didn’t suggest, didn’t pose a question. he simply invited himself over, granted, that’s if you let him. usually, you’d pull back. you’d scoff in kuyo’s face, shake your head and disappear, never to be seen again. but his hands, they’re so strong. and his shoulders are so broad, and his chest is so firm, and his smile is so— “this better be the best night of my life, pretty boy.”

he gives one final squeeze to your midsection, savoring that feeling of plush skin molding around his fingers. the next time kuyo feels it, he knows it’ll be without these silly restrictions such as clothes and peering eyes. not that he’d mind, but he does doubt you want to be split on his dick in the middle of a club. “oh trust, it will be.”

©️ prncessie | do not repost on to other platforms, plagiarize, modify, translate, or use for any ai platforms. my work is my own and it comes from my brain so you’ll have to use yours too

taglist — comment to be added

@excedr

[murkystarlight]

Sleeping habits headcanons for the New Order!

Or like.. idk. Pajamas. Habits. You know? I don't know \_(°>°)_/

Jesse - hugs something in their sleep. Just loosely holds it(used to sleep with Reuben so is capable of not holding things in a death grip while asleep). Sleeps in a loose shirt and baggy sweatpants. Just very big comfy clothes will do. Often steals clothes from their friends wardrobe. Just to see how comfortable they are^^. Does some mumbling and shuffling if they dream. Other than that they're pretty still and quiet. Sleep pattern is quite irregular. But manages to sleep a full 2hours of sleep each time. Has a few nightlights to turn on at night before sleeping. Not all the time. Mostly when they're lonely, sad or scared.

Olivia - sleeps with blindfold on. Nothing overly decorated. Just a plain blindfold. Maybe some ruffles. And glitter. Okay- maybe a little decorated. Due to her overworking, sometimes she ends up falling asleep in her daily clothes. But she finds it uncomfortable. Likes to sleep in something fluffy/fuzzy. Quite the stylish sleeper. And maybe a sleep cap too. Rambles a bit while sleeping. But doesn't move much. Maybe the occasional turning left, then turning right. But no big movements. Sleep pattern... she does have a schedule. It's kept pretty well. Except when she's caught up in her work. She misses the chance. Until she gets back in touch with reality... she stays awake and work. Though she does try her best to clean up and sleep once she is broken out of her daze.

Axel - very free. Sleeps when ever he wants. But. Once he falls asleep, he most definitely will end up sleeping a full 8 hours before waking up. He is a heavy sleeper. You just CANNOT wake him up. You need very specific methods if you really need to. Doesn't move much or talk while asleep. But he snores. He- well I- sorry. But my brain kind of sees him similar as my dad- and I think Axel would often sleep with just... just his underwear. Or +his shirt along with it. Probably a normal short sleeved t-shirt. Even in winter. Short sleeved. Dunno why tbh... mhm. Likes holding something while sleeping too. Nothing too big or heavy. Maybe a blanket.

Petra - nightgown. I don't care what you say. She wears a nightgown. Capiche? Capiche. Something simple. Just like a long black nightgown(though only when there isn't anyone else there with her maybe?). Often wears simple shirt and shorts too. Actually- she doesn't sleep much when she's on adventure. But when she does.... now. She has two ways of sleeping. Most of the time she's quiet and still. Like. Dead still. (They had to wake her up a few times to check if she was alive.) She wakes up very easily. Light sleeper. Probably a habit from having to sleep in caves and avoid getting ambushed. Can tell if she's needed or if there is commotion around while she's asleep. But second one, if she wears out completely or gets knocked out, she sleeps deep. Too deep. But now she can't stay still. She is.. uh... all over the place. All of the time. She wakes up on the other side of the bed. The blanket sprawled around somewhere randomly. Also really loud. Mumbling, talking, groaning... slight snoring.. because she's able to sleep peacefully? And she normally stays on guard even when asleep but during this she feels safe? Or secure in some cases. Or because she just wasn't expecting to fall asleep like that. Also sleeps while holding something, tightly. Very tightly. Maybe like.. a small rock in her hand? Or clings onto a person or a body pillow. Anyways. Survival instincts and keeping on edge most of the time, even during her sleep. Probably ended up sleeping in every day clothes or maybe even armor when she couldn't find a place to sleep while outside. Isn't the best but.. it's okay. Oh- right! She sleeps with her bandana on

Lukas - stripes. Yes. Striped pajamas. And the... Santa hat looking sleeping hat. But he doesn't mind if he sleeps in his everyday clothes. He will sleep in jeans and not complain. Mhm. He also sleeps in the weirdest poses. Says it's comfortable(doesn't mind it). Talks a bit in his sleep, though it's more like whispering. Doesn't move while he sleeps. Probably so that he doesn't disturb Dewey when he sometimes sleeps nearby. Purring can be heard. Either from the cat or the man himself. Cares more about the place he sleeps in than the stuff he wears. But- he likes fluffy fleeces maybe?

☆finishing☆

Jesse's opinion of sleepware!!

(All borrowed from friends who totally agreed)

Axel - his clothes are big. Almost like a nightgown or a oversized shirt for me. So that's a plus. It's comfortable. Also. His shirts have a lot of fun, cool designs on it. I like them. Would recommend(to who??)

Olivia - actually, we often share our clothes(similar size). It's quite nice trying on each others style. But it's true that she.. doesn't let me take it without any notice. Which- is exactly what I do all the time. Plus, her sleepwear is warm from the fuzz and fluff. Eye shade tickles too much for me though. Plus... I kind of prefer the light

Petra - so. While I was going through her closet. Guess what I found. Nightgown! It's pretty classy. Don't know why she never wore this during sleepovers but- it's very nice. Makes me slip a whole lot. But I get to wear it. Besides, it's for sleeping. It doesn't matter if it's too long and I.. keep constantly slipping on it...-

Lukas - okay. His pajamas are..... surprisingly warm. Ooo his fleece is also really soft and warm. Kinda strange that most of his pajamas are stripes. And all in the same color too. He has ones that aren't stripes sure.. but the ones that are stripes? Why is it all the same color??

Gabriel- I went on ahead to steal- I mean. Borrow, some clothes from other friends. Gabriel has pretty simple clothes. Just shirt and pants. Colors are pretty simple too. But they're definitely good for sleeping. Very comfortable

Soren - is that a robe??! ...eh. who cares. I look good in it 🙃

Ivor - surprisingly, he doesn't sleep in his "breathable" clothes. He just has a normal set of pajamas. He also has a nightgown. Fancy too

[buckbuckleybegins]

God i hope this is around what you imagined. This prompt tugged at my angst loving ass 😭

•

Christopher has always been the elephant in the room since he left. The one topic that sticks in Buck’s throat whenever he considers bringing it up due to the fact that he can tell Eddie is suffering—even when he acts like he isn’t.

It’s been months now since that day Eddie’s parents showed up at his door to take Chris away from him… away from Buck. And Buck always feels so guilty whenever he thinks this because… as much as he loves and misses him, Chris has never truly been his. Even if Eddie’s made him his godfather, writing Buck’s name in his will… Chris isn’t his. He’s Eddie’s. And whatever feeling of loneliness, emptiness, and hurt he feels whenever he enters Eddie’s house and isn’t greeted by those curls full of laughter, smarts, and love—Buck knows Eddie feels it a hundred times stronger.

“I need to take him back,” Eddie says, still pacing around his living room. Buck—sitting on the couch after Eddie called him, urgently asking him to come over—wants to stop him, grab him by the arms and ground him before he spirals into a panic attack. Because Eddie looks frantic, terrified. He’s staring at nothing in particular with wide eyes, sweat glistening from whatever terrible thought his imagination is serving him in that moment. “He can’t—he can’t stay there, Buck. I can’t lose him.”

“Okay,” Buck says, calm and steady. For the first time since he’s arrived, Eddie looks at him—teary-eyed and scared out of his mind. And God, Buck can barely meet his gaze without feeling the exact same emotions crawl up his own throat.

“What do we do?”

Eddie pauses, covers his face with his hands, and looks like he wants to scream but instead just sobs. Buck’s heart shatters into a million pieces at the sound.

When Eddie’s hands fly off his face, he looks at Buck with a different expression. It’s still sad, but now there’s a quiet, simmering resolution that wasn’t there before.

“I’m going to Texas,” he says, looking Buck right in the eyes. “I’m going to take my son back.”

Buck feels his throat tighten at Eddie’s words, and this time, it’s his brain conjuring images after images of things he really wishes will never happen. But Eddie is suffering, and his suffering takes priority over whatever fear of abandonment Buck could ever feel. So Buck just nods and helps Eddie pack his bags.

—

There’s a sense of déjà vu when they reach the airport, and Buck quickly pushes it aside—or tries to, at least. Because it comes back once again, a million times stronger, as he looks at Eddie’s frame just outside the glass doors, bags in hand, ready to leave.

Ready to leave him—

But Eddie looks back. A smile on his face and a thank you on his lips. Buck wants to grab him by the hand, pull him away, and tell him not to go. Not to leave him as well, just like everyone else in his life because this time he doesn’t know if he will survive it.

But Buck doesn’t. Because Chris is away, Eddie is suffering, and Chris and Eddie have always been his priority. Is their happiness as important as yours? Buck remembers and he loudly declares to himself that yes, it is. Their happiness is so much more important than his.

Eddie notices, though. He always does. Buck never has to speak for Eddie to understand him. It’s kind of their thing. Their BuckandEddie thing. No words needed when you understand each other to the core.

Eddie takes a few steps toward him, lets his bag fall to the ground, and—does something unexpected. He unclasps the St. Christopher medallion from his neck, slipping it around Buck’s. His hand lingers there, warm and grounding, as if passing on a promise.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie says, a soft smile on his lips, full of this newfound determination. “We’ll be back,” he corrects himself.

Buck nods, smiles back, and he can’t stop the tears from falling down.

But, still? Still, he believes him. He believes that Eddie will be back, Chris in hand and happy.

And he keeps that thought close to his chest, his hand clasped around the medallion—the promise Eddie just made him. This time, he believes it. This time, he knows he won’t be abandoned again.

So um.. does anyone wanna maybe write a fic where Eddie goes to Texas to get Chris and buck ‘abandonment issues’ Buckley is feeling anxious that Eddie won’t come back and then Eddie takes off the st Christopher medal from his neck and puts it on bucks as like a symbolic thing to tell him he will (cos buck will be like I can’t- then Eddie is like this way you can just give it back to me next time you see me ) and they have a moment™️?

[mukuberry]

I dont think Amane's mother killed the cat but i think Amane thinks she did.

Anyway this scene is weird to me. Why did the killer even take the collar and handkerchief off? Why is the collar and handkerchief just left there? Did whoever killed the cat leave it there purposely for Amane to find? Killing animals is against the cults rules, but there's no way whoever killed it doesn't know that. Why is the collar cut as well as unclipped? Was there some weird struggle? Cutting it isn't necessary if you can unclip it, which whoever killed the cat clearly did. It's weird!!!!!!!!!

[non-un-topo]

Thinking about Yusuf and Nicolò as young men again

[sableeira]

drawing a bloodied Chuuya is very therapeutic

[coolsvilleprincess]

Everybody give it up for more cleaned up sketches!! This time it's characters that I have simply been thinking about recently that are not the main gang, yes I did get distracted while cleaning up my Shaphne sketches, yes this is the result now I must return to the caves to finish them.