#and no i won’t just post it as it is like i said it Has To Be Proofed

[claypgeons]

resting mean face | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x driver!reader

summary: you have a resting mean face, it makes everyone think you hate them.

authors note: i did not know instagram had a limit on how many pictures one could use until now :( comments make my day and really motivated, so they are always appreciated, enjoy :)

liked by 65,736 others!

user1: not ready for the hate this beautiful nerdy girl is about to get from f1 fans 😖

view comments below !

user2: NO LITERALLYYYYYY

user3: it feels like yesterday i was defending y/n from crazy f2 fans now i have to do it AGAIN ??

user4: i’m confused

user5: let me explain! y/n has an incredible resting mean face. like if you didn’t know you, you would 100% assume she hates you. BUT DONT LET THIS TRICK YOU, she is so incredibly nice.

user5: her face tend to make fans think that’s she’s mean and she just hates everyone, so when ever she moves up on racing, all the new people immediately send her so much hate ?? because they just assume that she’s a bitch 😖

user6: i’m not ready

user7: first year as a y/n fan and i’m ready to go to WAR FOR HER

user8: it’s even worse because she’s shy and won’t speak unless spoken too 😞

user9: they just don’t understand her like we do 😞

user10: i remember people saying y/n was cold hearted?? AND I WAS LIKE WHATTT ??? the woman who stood out in the pouring rain holding umbrellas up for interviewers COLDHEARTED ??

— y/n has posted a new story!

[first day kinda nervous]

user11: y/n pls make sure to smile!

user12: smile !!

user13: hope you have fun !!

liked by 26,637 others!

f1gossip: y/n l/n makes her official debut as a ferrari driver today!

view comments below!

user14: could she look anymore bored ??

user15: maybe she should try smiling

user16: she seems arrogant

user17: it’s happening…y/n protectors get ready

user18: so proud of y/n !!

user19: she looks like she hates it there

— y/n has posted new pictures!

liked by, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, danielricardo, and 587,827 others!

yourusername: oh how i love racing

view comments below!

user20: YOU KILLED IT Y/N

user21: SO PROUD OF YOU ❤️❤️

user22: i’m here to protect my girl

user23: maybe you should try looking a little happier 😁

user24: maybe you should try hanging yourself 😁

user25: y/n as much as i love you..what did you say to make charles so scared 😭

user26: I WAS THERE!! literally all she said was “hello!it’s nice to meet you…” but she did say it with the most emotionless face ever so…

f1gossip: ferrari driver y/n l/n and charles leclerc were caught late last night, thoughts?

view comments below!

user27: OH

user28: they’re teammates ?? are they not allowed to hang out or what

user29: okay i ship

user30: OH SHES SMILING 😞😞

user31: YES Y/N YOU GO GIRL !!

user32: he went from being scared shitless of her, too making her laugh

user33: that’s MY girl

user34: white man did it in one week 😞

allaboutf1: charles leclerc on his new teammate y/n l/n: “she’s truly a gem. i will admit that i was scared of her at first. but she’s amazing. truly.”

view comments below!

user34: oh he’s in love, love

user35: yeah he’s gone

user36: it only took y/n two months to get him wrapped around her finger

user37: “i was scared of her at first.” OH WE KNOW. WE COULD TELL.

user38: THAT SHOULD BE ME

user39: ugh just get together already !!

user40: at this point literally just propose

user41: he’s down bad

user42: now let’s see how long it take for them to get together

[abbyscherry]

abby is so deedee coded (yk that couple from tiktok) . she’s just a silly goofy guy who loves loves loves her wife 🥹

anyway this is 100% stolen from one of their videos but every time you see a store that you love shopping in or just a store that has cute stuff abby pulls out her wallet without saying a word and hands it to you because she’s got that good lawyer money 🙈

daily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post

she would !!

abby knows you. she truly knows you. so when you’re pulling your hands from hers, and making your way towards something that has gained your full attention, she’s looking at you, eyes shaped like hearts, something her friends are always telling her, she just chuckles. abby knows you more than you know yourself, so when she notices the way your eyes are looking over a new bracelet, she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side slightly. always possessive of you no matter where you are, and she presses a kiss to your cheek. “do you like it?” she mumbled, using her thumb and rubbing your side slowly. 

“s’cute, expensive though” you huffed and simply walked away towards another window display.

leaving abby looking over at you, and back at the bracelet you were eyeing up a few times. you were indecisive. always. so she does what she does best, steps right into the little store while you are looking over the different assortment of sunglasses. ignoring how much it cost completely. oblivious to the fact your girlfriend was no longer near you, or in sight of you.

“abby, i think you’d look— abby?” you paused, turning around, eyes flickering over different people around you and huffing again. she had clearly found something that caught her attention and forgot to tell you.

and when you do spot her making her way towards you after a few minutes of standing there looking like a lost puppy, you can’t help but sigh when you notice the small gift bag in her hand. “abby” you groaned, almost stopping your foot.

“baby” she mockingly yet playfully groaned back. “you said you liked it” she shrugged, tucking her card into her jacket pocket.

“i do like it, but it’s expensive,” you frowned, an involuntary pout resting on your lips. eyes sparkling when she holds the bag out for you.

“for my queen. c’mon, take it please. i don’t care how much it cost. i’d buy you whatever you want” abby chuckled, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. happy when you take the gift bag from her hands with a final huff.

“thank you” you mumbled, resting your head on her shoulder. inhaling her scent pine body wash and cuddling into her. “i love you”

“i love you most, baby”

let’s not forget when you’re both hand in hand and walk past a lingerie shop, and she instantly, yet practically shoves her credit card into your hands. face flushed a crimson red when she looks over at you. “go on. get whatever you want” she stammered out, scratching the back of her neck. 

“are you nervous?” you teased, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“me? no never, angel. go on” 

cannot think straight whatsoever when she watches you shrug, walk into the store and smirk over your shoulder at her. cheeks even a darker red the longer her baby blue eyes trail over different pieces that she knows would look good on you.

even when abby has to go away on work trips, and she can’t be there for your annual day shop that she secretly loves doing with you, she is always thinking about you. so when you message her one night that you’re going out with your friends for a meal and won’t be responding for a while, it’s not unusual for her to randomly send you money with a text along the lines of ‘get whatever you want, baby. i can’t wait for you to show me what you’ve bought when i’m home’. of course, it still catches you off guard when you open the notification that abby has sent you more money, you continuously thank her over and over again. even if you have your own, she still loves to spoil you.

she’s your sugar mommy <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

CW: incel-like behavior

WIBTA if I brought up a topic from our group chat to my therapist?

Important background: this story does not take place in the US and everyone (except my therapist) is autistic. Names are fake in case anyone from the story uses tumblr for some reason. English is not my first language.

Six years ago, my therapist convinced me to join a therapy group organised by her. The idea behind the group is to help autistic people like myself get better at social interactions, managing our emotions, things like that. It’s been quite fun, and I enjoy the monthly sessions.

My therapist encourages us to talk to each other and meet up in between and/or after sessions, so we have a group chat for that. In that group chat, we essentially talk about whatever we want without the fear of being judged. Last couple of days we had, let’s say, an unfortunate conversation.

One of the members (Peter, 20sM) went on a rant about a girl who rejected him in favor of some ugly guy (we never got to see pictures of said guy) and that he felt “betrayed” and began believing he won’t “find any woman who will love him”. Some of us consoled him, saying that it sucks but he should focus on other things he enjoys to cope/move on. Another member (John, 19M), however, gave him “advice” which sounded a lot like incel talking points – how most women are selfish and superficial, how he’d need to be tougher/more selective to find “one of the good ones”, things like that.

There are 4 girls in the group chat including me, and none of us said anything regarding that (we sort of pretended that didn’t happen). Neither did the 8 other guys. Personally for me, I didn’t feel safe doing so because I’ve had a bad experience with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I decided to just not talk about it and block both Peter and John. I don’t know how the other girls felt about that conversation because they didn’t talk about it with me.

I’m thinking about bringing this topic up the next time I have solo therapy (after this post is up, at least). I’m worried I won’t be well received for two reasons:

1) My therapist has explicitly said she doesn’t care about what we do in the group chat and we should solve problems ourselves.

2) Other members will find out about this and accuse me of leaking information and generally being hostile towards me.

WIBTA if I brought up this conversation to my therapist anyway?

[trashogram]

Post-He Chose You ficlet Pt. 1

Warnings: Random inspiration based on a post I made yesterday about Lucifer’s jealousy. Pt. 2 will be attached smut for Lucifer/Reader.

*** “This evening has been a violent delight, my dear!” Alastor took your hand in his, sidling by so that he could lean in and plant a kiss on your hand while still keeping Charlotte secure and hanging off his neck on the other side. “We simply must do this again! And soon!”

Your expression didn’t change, despite the minute surprise you felt at the gesture. You supposed it was part of his southern gentleman facade, and there was no reason to make a scene out of something so innocuous. Even if he did linger a moment longer than necessary.

Charlotte gaped at the display, tiny mouth in the shape of an ‘o’. At a glance, you could see her thinking hard about it, her little claws slowing down in their relentless petting of Alastor’s hair, and you made a mental note. Given the circumstances, this was likely the first time Charlie had ever seen a man who wasn’t her Dad touching her Mom.

“YES! VIOLENTLY DELIGHTFUL!” The sudden boom of your husband’s normally dulcet voice caused both you and your daughter to jump.

Lucifer came stomping over the foyer, eyes ablaze while he snatched a squeaking Charlotte up from Alastor’s arms and outright shoved Alastor back. His pearly fangs were bared in an enraged snarl, in contrast to Alastor’s manic grin that only widened at the tough treatment.

“But I’m afraid it’s over and that means you go now. So go, go, go!” Lucifer’s words were a jumbled mess as he continued to muscle the overlord toward the magically-opened door.

“Oh my! But I didn’t even get to wish dear Charlotte goodnight!” Alastor said in a voice colored by laughter. He was turned about, halfway out the door with the Devil at his back like an angry bull, with Charlotte having graduated from being held in her father’s arms to raised and wrapped in his windingly long tail.

“Not a problem! She doesn’t need your goodnight — probably won’t even remember you by morning! And neither will we!” Lucifer managed to get the taller demon out the door (or at least Alastor had finally stopped leaning over him like Lucifer was a rest post). “Now, Get Out!”

The command was punctuated by the slamming of the door and the reverberation that had manifested from the King’s ire. He huffed and puffed, streams of smoke siloing out of his slotted nostrils as Alastor’s muffled laughter could be heard just outside.

You had remained rooted to the floor throughout the display, blinking and bewildered. Your gaze was drawn to Charlotte, still held aloft behind her father’s back with her little legs dangling, and you sighed. You walked over to the pair with a straightened spine.

“Lucifer.” You snapped.

Your husband spun around, inadvertently pulling Charlotte out of reach again. She whined in his grip, reaching for you while Lucifer himself looked back and forth between you two as the haze of madness cleared from his eyes.

Charlotte’s grabbed for you as Lucifer’s tail wilted, and she practically leapt into your waiting arms. Lucifer watched at she hid against your chest with a crestfallen expression on his face.

“Wait, I —” He reached out for you both.

You stared him down only a moment longer before swiftly turning on your heels.

—

You held Charlotte close when she began to cry in your arms, soothing her with a gentle rub against her back as she practically dug herself into your body.

“Why’re you crying, baby?” You murmured, nuzzling the top of her head. The little princess only cried harder. “Did Daddy scare you?”

The nod from Charlie was a bit difficult to distinguish from her emphatic trembling, but you’d been getting better at understanding your own daughter.

“Oh Sunshine,” You sighed. “He didn’t mean it. I promise you he didn’t.”

The walk to Charlie’s room was a journey, but you’d been down these halls so many times that you’d come to the door earlier than expected. Your daughter had clung to you the entire way like a baby lemur, crying in the safety of your arms.

“Why did Daddy make Allie leave?” Charlie mumbled against your collarbone when the worst of her sobs had subsided.

“Ohhh,” You shook your head while pulling out the plush comforter and taking a seat on the edge of Charlie’s bed. “He’s probably just tired. Sometimes Daddy acts a little silly when he’s tired.”

You gently set the little girl down, a lump forming in your throat as Charlotte looked up at you, confusion still apparent.

“And you know when Daddy is silly, he likes to keep us close.” You tickled under her chin. “Otherwise he’ll lose his head, and we’ll have to put it back on for him again.”

“And Alastor’s never seen that; it might scare him!”

Charlie’s giggle was like magic, as was the scrunch of her little dotted nose that you leaned in to kiss.

“I don’t think anything could scare Al.” Your daughter whispered conspiratorially, still lingering on you in spite of the brief loss of tension.

You continued to sweep errant golden strands of hair from Charlie’s face, lightly plucking away what had gotten stuck in tear tracks . “Maybe, but you never know…”

—

It was sometime later, when Charlotte had been sufficiently tucked into her powdery-pink bed after being read and sung to, that you strode back out into the hallway.

There you heard the distant sound of music coming from your own bedroom. Even at a distance, you could tell it was too clear and rich to be coming from yours and Lucifer’s antique radio.

With another deep sigh, you headed that way, slowing down just enough to take some of the pins out of your hair. Hopefully your husband hasn’t gone so far as to throw the radio away purely out of association.

Lucifer had played for you before, on a variety of instruments. And while it might’ve given you second-hand embarrassment if any other guy tried to sit you down and have you listen to him fool around with a guitar or piano, with Lucifer it was a treat rather than an chore.

Even now, as he drew a bow across the strings of his fiddle to create a slow, clearly melancholy tune, your body deflated slightly.

Your husband was lost in the music, but you wondered how long it had taken him to fully surrender to it. He looked terrible disheveled from his tousled blond hair to the way his forearms, now free of the confines of his overcoat and gloves, flexed on and off. His posture was poor but his torso and shoulders were tightly coiled and fit to snap.

The carpet under your padded feet dampened the sound of your approach, to the point where you merely ghosted over Lucifer’s shoulders with a delicate hand. Thankfully, your worry that you’d startle the already clearly frazzled King proved unnecessary. He merely stopped playing, arms falling to his sides.

“She hates me now, doesn’t she?” Lucifer stated with a hung head, refusing to turn and look at you even as he leaned into your surer hand soothing his shoulder.

“Charlie will never hate you.” You replied. “I doubt there’s any room in her heart to hate anyone or anything, least of all her Dad who she knows loves her more than anything.”

Lucifer looked over his shoulder at you, anxiety still clearly eating away at him, though he tried to smile.

“She was very understanding when I explained how you were just being silly, actually.” You offered.

“Well that is true.” Lucifer’s laugh was one note and too watery for your liking. “I am silly. A silly old fool, really…”

He gripped your hand, thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“Do you hate me?” His voice was small. Earnest. Afraid.

[luveline]

darling darling jade-y!!! I saw your post about semi specific requests that you like to write and I thought I’d combine two of the things I saw on there ❤️

for asf!Fred, very possibly maybe reader gets a serious concussion and Fred has worries about how the brain fog may affect readers tendencies to dissociate or that the confusion might further upset her? Just general, mutual hurt comfort where everyone’s worries are put at ease in the end ❤️❤️

I love coming back to your blog almost everyday and always finding something delicious to read no matter if i’m reading something new or rereading a fav!! Sorry this was a bit long but I love to sing people’s praises!! Have a looovely day or night ❤️

thank you for your request lovely! 💌 —Fred takes care of you when you can’t look after yourself, but he finds it hard to ignore how your actions mimic the past. 2k, fem

cw mental health issues

“It’s alright. Hold my hand.”

Fred puts his hand out for you in the middle of George and Angelina’s living room. Your eyes shine with hurt, so odd to see when no one’s said anything cruel, and you won’t take it. You’re stuck where you’re standing.

“Go on, sweetheart, take my hand. It’s okay. I’m just gonna help you.”

You put your hand up gently. Fred takes the hint and twines his hand through yours, tickled by the slowness of your fingers curling over the backs of his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, taking a guiding step to the sofa. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”

You walk. Fred takes your shoulders into his hands when you’re close enough and holds you to his chest as he shakes out the pillows behind you, making room for you to sit comfortably. “Okay, sit down, my girl. There you go.” He grins at you. “Brilliant. How do you feel, are you okay?”

You stare at him. Your despondency makes him feel sick, but he swallows it down. He bends at the waist to meet your eyes with nothing but patience and fondness. “Y/N,” he says slowly, reaching for your knee. “Do you need to go to bed?”

“No.”

“No. Alright, I’m going to get your drink, and see if George is finished with dinner, okay? I’m not going far.”

You give him a look you’ve employed many times since you got hurt, like you can’t work out why he’s acting strangely, or perhaps why you’re acting strangely. Fred pulls your hand to his mouth for a kiss, barely a kiss, more like he’s pressing the entirety of your hand to his lips.

“Love you,” you say.

“I love you,” he says into your hand. “Okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“I know, I know, I just don’t want you to worry.”

He encourages your shoulders back to have you flush to the sofa and sends you a wink as he goes. You almost laugh, teeth peeking out as you smile at him, the happiest you’ve looked for at least the last two days. Your brain fog is persistent and bothersome, to put it lightly.

Fred heads into the kitchen where George is plating a large baking tray of pasta into four dishes, two of which he’s set atop the microwave.

“Hey,” George says, “I’ve got two for now and two for tomorrow, just in case.”

Fred doesn’t know how to say thank you, so he doesn’t. If Fred weren’t in love with you in a way that’s changed his entire being, George would still look after you, because you’re one of his best friends, and he’s yours. But Fred does love you, and George knows that, and to be taken care of by his brother while you recover is a privilege he won’t take lightly.

“Don’t worry about it, Forge. I think mums got a lasagna with our names on it waiting in her fridge…” Fred leans against the wall by the door frame and covers his eyes. He’d been joking, and now suddenly he feels sick again.

“You okay?” George asks.

Fred holds out his hand, as if to say, Don’t ask me. Don’t ask and don’t come near me. He doesn’t think that boys don’t cry, but he just hates being this person who can’t keep it together. You need to be looked after by someone who’s fully present while you’re disassociative. Fred needs to be that person, but it’s just so hard seeing you like this again.

“I feel like–” He swallows nothing, meeting George’s waiting gaze with a weak smile. “Feel like she’s that scared lonely girl again and there’s nothing I can do to make it up to her.”

George puts the empty pan on the back burner. He tosses dirty spoons and forks into the sink, and wipes his hands on a tea towel pensively. “It’s a brutal mix of symptoms,” he says finally, his voice straining. “But she’ll get better again.”

Post concussive symptoms are about as bad as it comes, and they can last for months. Not just weeks. Among the more manageable, such as dizziness, high blood pressure, and fatigue, are the worst Fred could imagine for you in particular —cognitive dissonance, memory loss, brain fog, anxiety, and depression. Even if you recover from each of your physical symptoms, it’s not uncommon for people who sustain a brain injury to remain depressed.

You’re already sick. Fred loves you and he doesn’t mind, doesn’t care, not a single thing will change for him, but you’re not well, and this head injury could send you into a tailspin.

“I forgot what she looks like when she’s hopeless,” Fred says. “I really did.”

“She’s not hopeless, Freddie, she’s hurt. Her head will get better, and she’ll get better too, because she has us to make sure of it.” George puts a plate of pasta onto a wooden tray with a knife and fork. “I’m… you know, I’m worried too.”

“Yeah.”

“I have Parmesan cheese and stuff in the fridge.”

“It’s okay. I’m gonna take hers in first.”

“You have to eat.”

“I know, I will. She might take some convincing, is all.”

It’s not as though Fred thought you were going to walk away from your concussion without consequence. It was an awful injury, his heart has never pounded that fast or that hard in his life, but he didn’t expect the symptoms of what you’re experiencing now to coincide as heavily as they do with your worst struggles.

You're teary eyed on the sofa, pressing yourself back into the apex of the arm and the cushions. It’s another symptom with multiple causes; Fred has found you crying because you were confused, and aching, and without explanation. It can happen and be finished within a few seconds.

“Hi, lovely girl. I have your dinner.”

“What is it?” you ask, sniffing.

Fred remembers the days in his last year of school where you’d been hungry enough to shake but not willing to eat. You didn’t know then and you can’t know now the sort of pain it is to watch a friend not be able to feed themselves without extreme effort, and Fred wouldn't want that for you, but it’s why he can’t explain his relief to you that you still have your appetite.

He sits down next to you and puts the tray on your lap, tentative at first to touch you in case he puts you off eating, then greedy with his hands as you eat a big first mouthful, and a second. You’re not uncoordinated despite the doctor's warnings. The dissonance seems to come before decision making for you, and this decision is firmly made.

You’re hungry so you’re eating.

Fred had to beg yesterday for you to eat. Hands on your legs, tone dropped into the most dulcet it’s ever been, asking, “Just one thing, can you do that for me? A piece of toast, lovely.”

That’s why you’re here. Fred can’t take care of you alone, he’s found. It’s almost fitting that you should need both of them again, even if Fred wishes you didn’t.

He knows it’s saccharine. Patronising, even, but he gives your arm a light squeeze. “Good girl,” he says quietly, relief palpable. “How is that? Is it nice? Don’t tell me all the trouble we had yesterday is because you don’t like my cooking.”

“Felt sick all day,” you say, scratching your bowl with the tines of your fork.

“I know. Do you feel less sick right now?” He cups your face as you nod shyly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t mind. I’m just kidding. George made you another plate to take home, anyways, so you won't suffer again.”

Your laugh is more breath than voice, but you turn your cheek into his hand before he can pull it away. There’s a connection in your gaze he hasn’t seen for a while. “You’re worrying.”

“I’m fine.”

You put your tray in his lap, and his heart sinks thinking you’re finished already, you’d eaten a few good spoonfuls but not enough to make up for days of pickiness. Your arm slides behind his. “I’m sorry you’re upset,” you say, pressing your cheek to his arm in a cuddle. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m fine,” he says, rubbing his nose against your head.

“It’s okay, lovely.”

He blinks back tears. “No, I know it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“You can have mine. I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Can’t we share it?” he asks. He thinks you might be lying. In your confusion, you’ve taken his upset to be rooted in hunger. “Please?”

“It’s nice,” you say, like you’re agreeing, picking up your fork again to eat from his lap.

Fred breathes out a sigh. If he could, he would wrap you up in a hug so tight it makes you both click.

You offer him a forkful. He eats it and doesn’t comment on the way it taps against his teeth.

“I think I have that pain again,” you say, poking at pasta shells.

“Yeah? In the back of your head?”

“Like a thrumming.”

“I’ll get your painkillers.”

“I’m about to go get them,” George says, carrying a second tray, a soft smile on his face as he puts it on the coffee table. “I can read your mind, ghost.”

“What am I thinking now?” you ask.

“It’s nice to be with your best friends, duh,” he says, turning around again to retrieve your painkillers.

You turn to Fred without saying anything, eye to eye, nearly not quite smiling. You abandon your fork again to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him, hiding. Fred closes his eyes, his arm curved eagerly behind your back. “Don’t knock the tray,” he mumbles, letting out a deep breath.

“You’re making me feel sick,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault, right? It’s always my fault.”

“No, no, lovely, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect to me, you always will be. You’re just not very well today, that’s all it is.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, nearing hurting now, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry, Fred.”

“Ghost, it’s okay.” He shoves the tray from his lap. He can clean up any mess, but this is urgent. You slouch into the space he makes. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, and it wouldn’t matter if it was. There’s nothing wrong with you that won’t get better.”

“I don’t like feeling like this.”

Fred collects himself. He can’t panic right now, as much as he wants to. “It’s not forever,” he says, letting his hand run down your back to the base of your spine, “I promise, it’ll start to feel better. I’m not going anywhere until it does, and even then you can’t get rid of me. When was the last time you managed that?”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” you mumble.

His hand seems to be working. The massaging of his thumb against the base of your spine calms you down. “I don’t want you to,” he says, nudging at your face with hide nose until he can kiss your cheek. “Mm?” he hums, lips sliding against the corner of your mouth. “Just me and you forever, yeah? You can’t be alone when you have me.”

[shroomsroom]

Hi dear I hope you're doing well and I was hoping if you can do the whole greaser gang with a s/o that's like Fiona Gallagher from the show shameless? Like she's taking care of her six siblings and her dad who's usually at the bar or passed out somewhere. Their mother ran out and is mentally ill so their s/o is left to be her siblings mother/father/ and nurse fill free to ignore if you want to do and I hope you have a good day!

Summary: The Outsider x Fiona Gallagher!Reader Warnings:mentions of absent mother, drinking, very toxic adult behavior, dysfunctional family Author's Note: gonna be busy tmrw and weekend again, ill try and post 1 fic per day but no promises.

PONYBOY CURTIS

Ponyboy doesn’t really live in a dysfunctional family, yes his home life is tough but Darry loves him and tries his best and pony knows that

However, pony cant mentally put himself in Darry’s shoes of having no-one to lean on and having to take care of many siblings

When he first met you, he was absolutely smitten. And when you told him of your problems, he thought you were the toughest chick in town

He often asks Darry what to do to take a couple of burdens off your shoulder. He applies it to you and also at home, you’ve made him a better person.

JOHNNY CADE

Has a dysfunctional family and can understand, to an extent..he still gets fed sometimes and doesn’t have to work to stay in his home

But he doesn’t have a hard time adjusting to you.

He’s very open and loves your siblings, so he tries to take them out as many times as possible to give you some rest.

He genuinely doesnt understand how your parents could have left you doing all this by yourself when you’re such a perfect girl.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda admires you like you’re a work of art. 

He takes everything into consideration, for example, if he wants to take you on a date he’ll invite some of the gang members to hang out with your siblings and keep them away

Never asks you for anything, not to rant, vent or anything. He feels as if his problems could never measure up to yours so his whole world revolves around you.

Tries to spend as much of his money as possible to get you nice things and spoil you.

STEVE RANDLE

Steve understands how tough it is for you mentally. He’ll often stop by your place with something for you, like a box of chocolates or something. 

Whenever he’s over, he makes an effort to get to know and play with your siblings, he even was going to introduce himself to your dad. You convinced him it was a bad idea so he didnt.

He makes it known that you can tell him anything, literally anything, and he’d listen. He also wants you to know that you can call him anytime and he’d come for you.

Reassures you that he won’t ever leave you, that you’re special and he’s madly in love with you.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit has some kid experience so he tries his hardest to keep your siblings company and even brings his sisters for ‘playdates’

Really enjoys spending time with you and would even do the chores around the house with you to keep talking with you.

He’s not very good at comforting people and he tries to make up for it by using his humor. You get where he’s coming from and it often helps a lot actually.

Tries his best to look nice for you when he comes over, he wants you to know he’s not a washed up nobody like your parents and wants to be a rolemodel to your siblings.

DARRY CURTIS

Often tells you that you’re perfect and that your siblings will grow so much better with you as their ‘parent’. He once made you cry because of what he said and he just held you in his arms while you sobbed.

He can sort of relate to what you’re going through but his is not as extreme as yours. 

Whenever he can he drops by to help you. Date night consists of making dinner for your siblings, washing the dishes and having a late night dinner together after you put your siblings to bed.

He knows you'd make a perfect wife since he’s old enough to marry, just waiting on the right time to pop the question.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dallas is insensitive and rude to you. He knows what you’re going through, he just doesn’t care.

However, once you caught him putting on a bandaid for your younger brother. He wasn’t kind about it, saying things like “can’t you do this yourself?” but he still did it.

He knows you saw it and thinks that hanging around your house and helping you with chores and siblings will keep you quiet about it

He doesn’t like kids, but he tolerates them for his reputation, and because you’re growing on him.

[lovebugdrabbles]

Wriothesley Headcanons n$4w vers

notes: i need readers to please go into this believing bro is 35 years of age MINIMUM. or u won't get my VISION. also, my tags are messy bc it's my first time posting my writing on tumblr so just pretend ik how to tag my writing.

warnings: n$4w obvs, 1k words, untitled sentences for the aesthetic, semi-lit, i do use apostrophes, shortened words/abbreviations, i want him in a muzzle so that's mentioned, inappropriate use of handcuffs, i mention he gets rough, i write him as a sweetie pie lowkey tho, tbh it’s a little vanilla, i made a joke abt being ford tough and i feel that warrants a warning, biting, pet name ‘doll’ used, (brief mention) ass slapping , (brief mention) hair pulling, i call him a teddy bear a couple times, (mentioned) slight manhandling, i get a little too into imaging him subby, oops, i also get a bit caught up in soft dom wriothesley,

now playing |◁ II ▷| ‘doin time’ by sublime

methinks he's defff vers/switch but will fully let a partner take over or will take control himself. i don't believe he's picky in this department for a moment. i think he might prefer dom however his dom side has limits.

i bet he's sooo vocal. letting every little grunt and moan out. word vomits too. whatever he’s thinking, his partner will hear it.

big softie. idc. he is a SWEET MAN. 'love should be warm' headass.

so many pet names for his partner. doll, baby, baby-doll, babe, sweetheart, hon/honey. but doll or sweetheart r his faves.

using his title in bed makes him melt.

like i don't think he's malicious in bed. like truly. he seems teddy-bearish to me but i could be looking thru rose colored glasses i must say.

he's def a bit rough tho but i think it'd be in a playful way. there is times he’d get too into the moment and grab on a bit too tight to a thigh or the hair he's running a hand thru or snap his hips a little too hard but he doesn't mean to and will apologize immediately and try to make it up to a partner or even stop mid-session to make sure the other party is alright.

not opposed to using the cuffs if a partner asks. on him or his partner. but he needs enthusiastic consent before or he won't do it.

i do think he’s actually rlly good abt asking for consent to do things tho. but he does it in a way that it feels like part of sex and not just asking for permission ‘you like that?’, ‘you wanna keep going, doll?’ ‘wanna keep taking me?’ but he will make said doll use their words or he won’t keep going. mans is a whore for hearing a partner beg or ask him to do something and he's not above it either.

he seems like the type to wanna hold hands while going at it. like if his hands can reach his partners they are intertwined or at least touching. a pinkie wrapped around the other at the very least. he feels closer and just… better with it

y'all know the shirt that says 'warning this bitch bites' he needs it. will leave marks that last for days and absolutely loves if a partner does it too. but he does feel a bit guilty after especially if it's a hard bite so will pepper kisses on them after.

seeing his bite marks on a partner drives him crazy tho. like, makes him stop in his tracks and wakes up smth in him like a sleeper agent.

kisses thru-out the ordeal soz u can pry this from my cold dead hands. he feels a little guilty if he isn't kissing a hand, a clavicle or any piece of skin he can delicately place a smooch on occasionally when he's not biting ofc.

additionally: my brain has been occasionally FOGGED w thoughts of him in a muzzle. i'm drooling rn actually. i think he'd have a love-hate relationship with it since he wouldn't be able to kiss or bite a partner but he absolutely bends at a partner’s will when they tug on the bars and that's the best part for him

honestly i don't think he'd be comfortable going much harder than what i've mentioned. maybe he'd allow a few slaps on the ass but idk just seems out of character imo. being rough and tumble is for work and the ring and i think he'd keep it that way.

i did say he's a switch/vers so it's time to talk abt both sides of the coin :))))

when he's in a particularly subby mood; he's pathetic. a complete mess of a man.

its so satisfying to see a guy so high in power just groveling to someone.

i bet he looks at a partner w the biggest puppy dog eyes, mumling the softest and breathiest pleases, his hair all tousled and falling over his face. he thinks he's willing to do anything a partner orders him to do atp.

especially interested in peppering kisses on a partner when he's in this mood. nuzzling and sighing as he wraps his arms around his partner and smooches.

this is the time he is very much not opposed to the handcuffs on him.

i think he'd asked to be praised or called a good boy on these nights. i don't make the rules.

this is when he gets vocal. whimpering included too.

but the facade almost immediately drops when aftercare starts.

on the topic of a dom wriothesley; honestly i dont see him getting into the rough dom role but staying more of a soft dom and being very comfortable there.

that is where the word vomit happens, talking a partner through it all when he's in this mood, telling them how good they feel, they're being so good, or to quiet down despite being a bit noisy himself but that's what his biting is for.

moaning into every bite. teeth marks and hickeys covering a partner the next morning leading to that system overload i touched on earlier.

willing to try more positions when he's in this mood fs but he truly believes you cant go wrong w the classics. *cough cough* missionary

this is when he gets real into it and loses himself in the moment like i mentioned earlier. hips bucking and hands reaching to hold onto a partner like they'll escape.

he gets a little bit rougher but its still not in a mean way more in a 'oh yeah? watch this.' type way. pulling a partner closer of man handling them to hold their hips in a better position.

occasionally those pet names get a very adamant 'my' in front of them.

i think this is when his most comfortable area of aftercare comes in but not before one last thing.

he'd like to stay holding a partner for a bit afterwards, letting everyone regain their bearings before hopping into aftercare mode if he was the one in control.

aftercare on top tho. tea, running a bath, helping a partner bathe if they so want, helping a partner get dressed if they're super sore, massages, just all out pampering, especially if he gets a little rough.

he equally enjoys reciving aftercare but is hesitant bc he says he's fine or he's built tough. BUILT FORD TOUGH. sorry idk where that came from and he is but the guy needs to let a partner take care of him sometimes.

the 'love is supposed to be warm' line weighs heavy on me if u cant tell. he's just a teddy bear :(( ugh i'll sob.

la fin !

end notes: tysm for reading the ravings of a madman !! i've had so many random ass thoughts abt him since playing the story quests lmfao and i wanted to get out of my fluffy/horror writing comfort zone so i wrote basically what i think he's like in bed jsjsjs. i may be posting some stuff on boothill from honkai star rail but it'll probably be more rambling just about robotics and prosthesis for now if i post. if i don't post that i'm wrapping up a wriolette fic soon and that will be up here or on my ao3 under the same user !! till next timeee

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Would Nincada be a good pet?

As seems to often be the case for bug pokémon, nincadas are a curious case. On one hand, nincadas are pretty low-maintenance and safe. On the other, adopting one as a pet comes with a pretty heavy commitment, and they won’t provide the social element that many owners are looking for in a pet. Whether or not a nincada would make a good pet really depends on the owner.

Nincadas may be larger than real-world bugs, but they are the perfect size and weight for a pet. Their housing needs, however, are a little more complicated than some pokémon. Nincadas live almost their entire lives stationary and under the ground in burrows (Ruby). In order to care for one, you would need to provide them with a safe burrowing place where they won’t be bothered by any natural predators. You won’t have to worry about your nincada wandering off, thankfully, so long as you provide what they need for their burrow so that they don’t feel the need to scavenge for food or water. Wild nincadas make their homes in the roots of large trees, using their claws to dig into them to create shelter and acquire both moisture and nutrients (Sapphire, Emerald). If you already have access to a satisfactory tree, then you’ll already be all set. It’s possible that an artificial analog, with a means to provide the nincada with the nutrients they need, could provide them with a sufficient habitat, but a tree seems to be the most straight-forward option when available. Since nincadas get everything they need from their tree-burrows, caring for one is as simple as keeping their tree happy and healthy. Because of this, their ease of care after the initial introduction to their new habitat is very low.

Like I said before, nincadas aren’t very social pokémon. They live nearly their entire lives underground, since bright sunlight makes them uncomfortable (Sapphire). Over time, this species has become almost completely blind, relying on their sentisitve antennae to feel their way around in the dark (Emerald, FireRed/LeafGreen, Diamond/Pearl/Platinum). If their needs ar being met, you’ll probably rarely see your nincada, let alone interact with them. This will be a deal-breaker for owners that are interested in friendly, sociable pets, but that’s not all pet owners! If you are fascinated with bug-type pokémon, or enjoy caring for pets for the routine, a nincada might be great choice for you.

I would be remiss when discussing nincada to not bring up a big wrinkle: adopting a nincada means, inevitably, adopting a ninjask (and, provided they have sufficient space, a shedinja). Nincadas are a pokémon species whose entire lifestyle is geared towards evolution. Due to this, I would not recommend giving a nincada an evolution-preventing stone, as it may be detrimental to their long-term mental health. Of course, this is a complicated issue, so I would recommend consulting with a pokémon veterinarian should you adopt one. Generally, however, every healthy nincada owner should be prepared to care from a ninjask somewhere along the line. This is not always a quick process. According to the pokédex, some nincadas spend upwards of a decade preparing for evolution (HeartGold/SoulSilver). This means that caring for a nincada is a big commitment that should not be taken lightly.

In an effort to keep this already too-long post as brief as possible, I’ll just say that nincadas aren’t very dangerous. While moves like Metal Claw can really pack a punch with their tree root shredding claws, their lack of vision and underground lifestyle means that they pose very little threat to humans, so long as you keep your distance and handle them sparingly and carefully.

Overall, a nincada’s viability as a pet depends on the potential owner. If you are interested in a low-maintenance pet that keeps to themself, they might be just right for you. Just keep in mind that adopting a nincada is no small responsibility! While it can take up to ten years, your nincada will someday become a ninjask (and, quite possibly, a shedinja). I haven’t covered ninjasks on this blog yet, but I have covered shedinjas (linked below), and I think it’s fair to guess that the intensity of care your pet will need along the line will be far greater than it is now.

The Shedinja Post:

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I like thinking about and considering the ways Killer (and his Stages, or possibly due to the existence of his Stages) might’ve struggled to adjust to servitude under Nightmare vs servitude under Chara.

With Chara, their reasons, goals and objectives were more broad and allowed Killer more freedom and autonomy in how he went about fulfilling Chara’s orders and their expectations of him. Chara—at least in Killer’s eyes—seemed to care about things and did the things they did for amusement/entertainment, power and control, curiosity, and companionship.

Thanks to things like Chara’s ability to Reset, consequences don’t really mean much of anything. The only real consequence Killer will ever face is from Chara themself; so he must keep them happy.

Always remain obedient and loyal—make Chara feel loved and appreciated, don’t ever, ever, ever make them feel like Killer doesn’t want to be around them, doesn’t like what they do or say, or is attempting to leave or betray them.

But don’t be too predictable. Don’t let them get bored of him. Always remain some level of unpredictable—but never give Chara a reason to doubt his loyalty.

His existence isn’t really useful to Chara in any way except to fulfill their emotional needs. The only thing they need from him they can’t really do on their own is his company, and being a constant source of entertainment and curiosity.

Killing people, torturing people, exploring every new avenue and possibility? Chara can do that just fine without him. But they don’t want to. All he has to do is ensure they never do.

Easier said than done, but it’s different with Nightmare. Nightmare has a use for him, but he is just one of thousands of Killers—he can be replaced, so he must remain useful.

Consequences are real with Nightmare, and not only just from him. If he isn’t careful, Killer can be captured, killed, or seriously hurt—something Killer might’ve actually struggled to understand and come to terms with at first. If he isn’t useful to Nightmare, then it’s a roll of the dice if he keeps Killer around.

With Chara he wasn’t so replaceable. Chara invested a lot of time and energy into him, he’s the only Sans/Killer in his AU/AT. It would take a lot of time to replace Killer and it won’t even be with another version of himself.

Another thing is killing. We can see in the Stage 4 comic that ST2 refrains from killing unless Nightmare orders him otherwise because the Boss—or Killer’s “friend” as he called him—needs the negativity and can’t get it if the victims are dead.

Unfortunately for them both, Stage 4 didn’t seem to catch that memo. Or if it did, if it truly understands that their situation and the circumstances have changed, it simply doesn’t (or can’t) care because it has remained loyal to Chara’s goals and desires and its “duty” to see them through.

Makes me wonder if Nightmare ever punishes Killer for the things he says or does while in the other Stages? 🤔

Might also make a post about the possible cognitive distortions Killer & his Stages likely all developed about themselves, and their relationship with Chara. Possibly also of Nightmare and the other people that were in the Underground with him and Chara.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 7) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Kurogiri snatches you from the alleyway behind the clinic. You’re ready for it, or as ready as it’s possible to be when you don’t know what Tenko’s planning. When you reappear, you’re not in the bar – instead you’re in the hallway outside Tenko’s room, and the door to his room is open. He looks pleased to see you. The hand’s already down off his face.

“You’re here. Good,” he says – but his expression shifts from anticipation into something sharper almost instantly. “What is it? Are you –”

This has been the worst twenty-four hours you’ve had since the night you first saw Tenko again. Between the visit with your family and the news about Kazuo and your encounter with Tenko’s master, you don’t have it in you to pretend. You take an unsteady step closer to him. “Can I, um –”

“What?” Tenko asks, but some part of him must know, because his arms lift from his sides, opening to leave space between them. You take another step closer, until you’re well within the space, and you know when he realizes, because he takes a sharp breath. “Yeah, you can. Go ahead.”

He hugs you back too tightly, but you’re probably hugging him too tightly in the first place. He can’t decide where to put his hands. He keeps trying different spots, but no matter where he touches you, it’s never with more than three fingers down. For your part, you keep your hands still on his back, resisting the urge to run them over his shoulder blades or along his spine. He’s really thin. Almost malnourished thin. No wonder his wounds take so long to heal.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, let your eyes fall shut. “What happened?” Tenko asks. He adjusts his grip on you without fully letting go. “Why do you look like that?”

His master said not to tell Tenko – no, advised you not to tell Tomura. But he also said he’d have no further dealings with you. You don’t know where Kurogiri is, what Kurogiri might say, so you speak as quietly as you can, your mouth just below Tenko’s ear. “I met your master.”

Tenko stiffens. “What?”

“Kurogiri took me to him. I thought he was taking me to you, but –”

“What did he want?” Tenko asks. His voice is tense, already going flat. “What did you tell him?”

“He wanted to know how I knew you. I told him about how we met last year, when you came to the clinic.” You feel Tenko’s shoulders relax slightly at that. “I used the right name. I don’t –”

“Here.” Tenko pulls away from you, but only long enough to pull you through the door to his room and shut it behind you both. “What else did he ask?”

“About my quirk. He said he’d give me one, but he changed his mind.” You try to remember, but it’s hard verging on impossible. All you can think of is the hand closing over your face, the enormous figure looming over you. “He said I was your game piece, not his. What does that mean?”

You look up at Tenko. Tenko’s expression is somehow grim and calculating at the same time. “He says everything’s for me. Everything should be as I want it, so he won’t take you away,” he says. Then, almost to himself: “But he was suspicious. If he finds out –”

“Finds out what?”

“Here.” Tenko pulls you closer than before. This time you feel his chapped lips against your ear. “I was supposed to say goodbye to my old name. When he gave me my family to wear.”

His family to wear. His family – the hands. You almost throw up. Tenko keeps talking, faster now. “I didn’t think about it. I hadn’t in years, until – and I feel different when I hear it. Different than I’m supposed to. I want the same things, but more things. I don’t know how to say it.”

“You’re not supposed to be Tenko anymore.” You feel him nod. “You feel more like that when you’re with me.”

Tenko nods again. “You always know how to say it right.”

“I know you,” you say. His grip on you tightens. “You’re in trouble with him because of me.”

“No.” Tenko’s index finger taps a pattern on your back. “I feel better when you’re here.”

That doesn’t mean he’s not in trouble. It just means he cares about it less, or he’s less worried than you are. “Just be careful with my name,” he continues. “Call me Sensei’s name around everyone else, even Kurogiri. When it’s just us, like right now –”

“Tenko,” you say, and he nods. You feel a little better, maybe. You don’t know for sure. And you know you’ve been hugging him for way too long. You step back. “Sorry about this. I –”

“Don’t,” Tenko says. “I told you. I don’t mind.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment. In your peripheral vision, you can see that the room’s even cleaner than it was the last time you were here. The coffee table still has a pileup of games on it, but there’s also an open energy drink can sitting there. With a flower sticking out of it.

You fixate on the flower. “Where’d you get that?”

“I found it,” Tenko says, but he can’t hold your gaze, which means he’s lying and he probably stole it. “So you wouldn’t get confused this time.”

“About whether it’s a date?” you ask. He nods without looking at you. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date right now,” Tenko corrects. “The new members of the League will be here at midnight. Do you have a disguise?”

“I think so.” You’ve been carrying it around in your bag, since you don’t have a way to predict when Tenko will call for you. “Do you want to see it?”

He nods. You fish both pieces of it out of your bag and put it on, situating the veil over your face and peering at Tenko through the filmy fabric. “Can you see my face?”

“Not really.” Tenko tilts his head, studying you. “What is it?”

“My friends and I dressed up as vampire brides last Halloween, but I went a little too hard on the bride part,” you say. “I was going to use a mask, but it was hard to breathe, and I couldn’t see very well. And the veil covers my hair, too.”

Tenko nods again. “What’s the crown made of?”

“It’s supposed to look like thorns.” You cringe a little bit. “Hirono made me wear it with the costume, and I still needed something to hold the veil in place. Does it work?”

Tenko comes closer. A lot closer. “Not at this range,” he says. You’d have to agree. If you can count his eyelashes through the veil, he can definitely see your face. “I’m not letting any of them that close to you or me. You can take it off now.”

You lift the crown off, and the veil after it, and Tenko takes them from you, setting them down on the end of the coffee table next to the hand he usually wears on his face. They look unbelievably weird laid out next to each other – like the costume pieces they are, things the two of you can take on and off whenever you want to instead of symbols of what Tenko already is, what you’re getting yourself into. “The others won’t be here for a few hours,” Tenko says. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Do you need to do anything to get ready for the meeting?” you ask. “It sounds important.”

“The plan’s already done. I’ll tell you about who will be there, but we don’t need anything else. Just –” Tenko lifts his head as if to scratch at his neck, then lowers it again. “I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ve thought about it enough. Can we –”

“Yeah,” you say at once. “Let’s just play.”

You play Call of Duty again, starting off in co-op mode this time. You were so worried that your skills would atrophy that you made Ryuhei and Mitsuru play with you until you got better, something Tenko remarks on right away. “I can’t believe you practiced.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a sidekick if I stayed dead weight,” you say. “Don’t worry. It won’t last long.”

The two of you still have a ways to go before the intermediate levels, and with the pressure off, Tenko starts telling you about the allies he’s collected. Mostly guys – for whatever reason, there aren’t a lot of female villains. The two women are Hiikishi, who goes by Magne, and Toga, who goes by Toga. Magne’s an adult with a serious record, and Toga would have a serious record if she was an adult, which she isn’t. “Seventeen?” you say, startled. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s a Stain fan,” Tenko says. He rolls his eyes, then takes out an entire group of enemies advancing on the two of you without looking at the screen. “So are two of the others. One of them’s got a fire quirk. He’s an asshole. The other one – he’s hard to get a read on. Keep an eye on him.”

“I can do that,” you say. You see a solitary enemy sneaking up behind Tenko’s character, adjust your viewpoint minutely, and shoot them before they can shoot him. “Who else?”

Toga apparently isn’t the only kid who’s taking on a life of villainy. There’s another high school student, too, and you think about what Kazuo said, about the question of whether the creation of new villains can be prevented. Two of the other new allies fall into the category of those Kazuo said would be drawn to violence regardless. You recognize both names from the news, and you’ve listened to enough true-crime podcasts at Mitsuru’s behest to know that at least one of them is supposed to be behind bars. “Did you break them out?”

“Kurogiri’s doing that,” Tenko says, unworried. “They’re the distraction. Compress will be doing the real work.”

“Compress?”

“We were lucky to find him,” Tenko says. There’s a nasty grin on his face. “You’ll hear more about him when we go over the plan. We – dammit.”

The two of you leveled up while you were talking, and there are twice as many enemies as before. You decide to drop the line of questioning and focus on the game. Playing with Mitsuru and Ryuhei, you never got through the first of the intermediate levels. Tenko’s better than they are by a long shot, but you’ll need all your wits about you to avoid dragging him down.

You and Tenko play in silence for the most part, working together as a team, and you notice the two of you shifting closer together as the game continues, moving from your separate corners of the couch to the middle of it. You’re paying attention to the game, but every so often your mind drifts – to the flower in the energy drink can, to the fact that this is apparently a date, to the fact that Tenko let you hug him and hugged you back. If this is a date, if he keeps calling it a date, there must be something he wants from you that’s more than this, more than whatever the two of you are doing right now. You could ask what it is. Part of you doesn’t want to know.

You and Tenko clear one or two intermediate levels, but on the third one, you know the two of you are in deep trouble. You’re low on health already, courtesy of getting dinged a few times on the level before, and your skills, while improved, aren’t good enough to let you hold your own. Tenko’s having to protect you, just like you were worried he would, and in the process, he’s taking damage, too. Despite that, courtesy of Tenko’s skills and your weird accuracy, the two of you progress to the end of the level. Almost.

“Come on,” Tenko hisses. He’s two seconds away from disintegrating his controller. “We can make it.”

No, you can’t. Not both of you. But if Tenko can get through, he can get to a save point, and you can finish the level later. If you both die, you have to go back to the beginning. With that in mind, it’s an easy choice. You maneuver your character between Tenko’s and the enemies sneaking up on him from behind, and shoot as many of them as you can before they overwhelm you. Tenko turns to stare at you in horror. “You died?”

“You didn’t. Go!”

Tenko swears, shoots the enemies you couldn’t kill, and clears the level at speed. He saves his progress. Then he turns on you. “What happened?”

You point at the screen, which is showing a slow-motion replay of your character getting absolutely shredded by enemy fire. “You were blocking for me?” Tenko looks unhappy. “Idiot. We could have won.”

“I was slowing you down too much,” you say. “I could help you get through, so I did. Now you don’t have to start over.”

“But you do.”

“I’m the sidekick. It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure why he’s looking at you like that. “And even if I wasn’t your sidekick – there’s no way I’d let my best friend lose.”

Tenko doesn’t say a word in response. Instead he sets his controller aside, then lifts yours out of your hands and does the same. You’re sitting really close together right now. He said this was a date. You make eye contact with Tenko, or try to. He’s not looking into your eyes. He’s looking at your mouth.

He’s being really obvious. You wonder if he knows. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

“Yeah. You.” Tenko doesn’t look away from your mouth. “Don’t you remember?”

For a moment you don’t. But then you remember the picture of the two of you on Valentine’s Day, and what happened after the picture was taken – you taking the valentine from him, planting a poorly-aimed kiss half on his mouth and half on his cheek, and promptly running away. You’re surprised he’s counting that. But you would count it, too, if it was the only thing you had to count.

“I remember,” you say. “So this is going to be our second kiss.”

“Who said I was going to kiss you?”

“You’ve been staring at my mouth for the last minute and a half. I’m not sure what else you could be doing,” you say. Tenko’s face turns red, which means you’re right, but he still doesn’t make a move. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” Tenko shakes his head. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Don’t do anything with them for now,” you suggest. Your heart is beating faster. “Let’s just try it and see how it goes.”

He’s leaning closer now, shifting position to close the gap even further. The flush in his cheeks is darker than before. “I’m not going to be good at it.”

“Hey, I was pretty bad at Call of Duty last time,” you say. Tenko starts to argue that kissing and Call of Duty have absolutely nothing in common, and you cut him off. “You know how I got better? I practiced.”

Tenko finally tears his eyes away from your mouth. “You wouldn’t have had anything to practice if I hadn’t taught you how. You should kiss me.”

“I kissed you the first time,” you say. “It’s your turn.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Fine,” Tenko says. He leans in and you tilt your head to the proper angle and your lips meet for the first time in fifteen years.

You really don’t want to count the kiss when you were five as your first kiss, but Tenko’s counting it, so you sort of have to. His lips are rough against yours, not in pressure but in texture, and you’re careful as you kiss him back. Careful for a whole host of reasons. His hands are curled into fists on his thighs, and you don’t want him to move without thinking. You don’t want him to pull away, either, which is what he’ll do if you go overboard. It’s not the hottest first kiss you’ve ever had, but it’s the most intense by far. The fact that your lips are the only point of contact makes it even more so.

You’re trying to be careful, but you’re not careful enough – Tenko’s lower lip splits, and you taste blood. You sit back in a hurry. “Sorry. I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t care.” Tenko closes the gap between you again, presses his lips against yours a second time. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” you admit. You feel Tenko’s lips curve into a smile, spilling more blood onto yours. “But you have to let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

You unfold your hands from your sides and raise them, setting them on Tenko’s shoulders. Tenko freezes. You risk dragging your thumbs slowly across his collarbones, too prominent just like his shoulder blades and vertebrae are, and see his eyes fall half-lidded. A slow shudder runs through him, shedding tension in its wake. “Do you mind?” you ask.

“No.” Tenko kisses you again.

Kissing Tenko is – strange. It’s not bad. Definitely not bad, and definitely not something you want to stop doing, but still, it feels strange. Part of it is the taste of his blood on your lips, the almost-starved ridges of his shoulders and spine under your hands, the fact that you can touch him but he can’t touch you. And part of it is the missing piece of time, those fifteen years where you would have known each other if this hadn’t happened to Tenko – whatever this was. It feels almost like a blink. When you look back in your memories, you’re little kids, linking pinkies on the way to school. Now you’re kissing on the bed in Tenko’s room with Call of Duty paused in the background. Or making out. If the total lack of daylight between your mouth and Tenko’s is anything to go by, you graduated to making out already.

You can’t get your tongue involved without tasting even more of his blood, but the sound he makes and the shudder that runs through him when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip to clear it away makes it almost worth it. His fists are no longer resting on his thighs – now they’re on yours, fingers uncurling and curling again. You dare to slide one hand upward, tracing the back of his neck, and Tenko groans, shudders. The thought comes to you, again, that you should be careful with him. He’s so thin, so shaky under your hands. If you push him too far, he might break apart.

Tenko’s trying to talk without disconnecting his mouth from yours. That’s not going to work. You wrap your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not going anywhere and sit back. “What is it?”

“I want to touch you.” Tenko’s eyes are locked on yours this time, and the hunger and desperation you see there takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to make it safe. I don’t want –”

Something happens to him then. You don’t know how to describe it. Something flashes behind his eyes, and his shoulders tense beneath your hands, muscles turning so rigid and brittle that they feel as though they could shatter. “It’s okay,” you say quickly. You shift closer to him without asking first, halfway into his lap, trying to give him some of the contact he wants without getting his hands involved. “You could go slow. Or be careful. Or if you had gloves –”

Tenko’s eyes light up. “Wait here.”

You shift out of his lap as requested and he gets to his feet, heading for one corner of the room. You take a second to get composed.  You can still taste Tenko’s blood on your lips, and when you raise your hands to touch your cheeks, they feel hot. Kissing him feels good, is good – but you’ve always liked your makeouts a little more hands-on, and once Tenko’s able to touch you safely, you can’t vouch for how well you’ll behave yourself. Are you really the only one who’s ever kissed him? He must be a quick study. Even with his blood on your lips, you’re already missing the heat of his mouth on yours.

Tenko’s back a moment later. He has a pair of gloves on – gloves that are missing the first three fingers. It takes all five to activate his quirk, which means you’re safe, and he still has the chance to touch you directly. He hesitates before he sits down again. “Do you really want –”

“Yes.” You catch his hand – it’s safe to do that now – and pull him down beside you. He makes a startled sound, which you immediately muffle in a kiss. It’s cute, but there are sounds you like better. “I want you.”

You were going to be more specific with what you wanted – I want you sounds heavy as all hell when the two of you have only just gotten physical – but Tenko doesn’t give you the chance. He wraps his arms around you tightly, so tight that it’s almost hard to breathe, but he doesn’t hold you that way for long. Soon enough his hands are roaming across your back from shoulder to hip, freezing briefly when they encounter your bra through your shirt, all while he deepens the kiss to an almost unsustainable degree. It’s like he’s trying to steal the air out of your lungs.

Tenko’s hands seize your shoulder, your hip, and grip hard. You don’t like being handled roughly, but held – that’s something different. You swallow a gasp and press closer to him, almost in his lap again. His grip on you tightens further and he pulls you the rest of the way. Your lips unlock from his in the move, coming loose with a slurping sound that would probably make you cringe under other circumstances, with someone else. As it is, you seize the opportunity to catch your breath.

Tenko looks up at you. His fingers are pressing deeply into your skin, hard enough to bruise through your clothes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pressing against your own, and his red eyes are wide, pupils dilated. When you shift, trying to get settled in his lap, he sucks in a sharp breath. “Hold still.”

You’re comfortable now. You don’t mind. You look at him, studying the small things, the ones you remember from before. The tousled, slightly messy texture of his hair. His eyelashes, always a little longer than you expect them to be. The birthmark at the corner of his mouth, which you lean in to kiss lightly. You’ve always wanted to do that. Half the reason your first kiss was so messy was because you couldn’t decide whether to aim for the birthmark or his lips.

When you draw back, you see a surprised look on Tenko’s face. “You like that?” he asks. You nod, and a strange expression flickers across his face. “My grandma had it too.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“My other one. I saw in a picture.” Tenko’s thumb moves in slow circles over your hip, like he’s rubbing a worry stone. You don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. “She was a hero.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to say that. He nods. “You never told me.”

“I was going to.” Tenko’s eyes shift away from yours. “I found out that day.”

That day. It takes you a second to parse that, but once you do, your blood runs cold. The question balances on the tip of your tongue, a question you’ve been asking yourself for fifteen years, a question you know you shouldn’t ask him. You don’t need to know what happened. You saw what happened. All you need to know is that he’s here.

“Hey,” you say softly. Tenko won’t look at you, so you reach out, cupping the curve of his cheek, turning him back to put you face to face, if not eye to eye. “I’m glad you told me now. Better late than never. It would have been good to know for our games.”

Tenko scoffs at that. “We used to play some stupid games.”

“I liked them,” you say. “I like any game I play with you.”

Tenko’s been avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you, and your breath catches. You can’t let him look at you like that. You’ll say more than you mean to. “Do you want to keep talking?” you ask. “Or do you want to make out some more?”

For a second you think Tenko will opt for talking. He looks like he’s thinking about it. Then the hand on your shoulder shifts to wrap around the back of your neck, and he drags you down for another kiss.

This position seems like it works for the two of you. The difference in your heights is perfect for it, and it gives you a little more control over the kissing while giving Tenko the chance to put his hands wherever he wants. He keeps them well clear of anything too forward, and eventually he finds a place he likes for both of them – one on your lower back, beneath the hem of your shirt, and the other around the back of your neck. It keeps you close, as if there was any chance you’d pull away.

You’re kissing too deeply to talk, except for once, when Tenko pulls away to make eye contact. “No more dates with heroes.”

You only went on that one date with Sugimura. After the night on the rooftop in Hosu, you had to accept that your feelings were elsewhere. “None for you, either.”

Tenko snorts. Then, almost as an afterthought: “No more with anybody.”

“You’re trying to lock it down already?” you tease. “It’s only our second date.”

“I don’t care.” Tenko’s expression is serious. “I don’t want another sidekick. You shouldn’t want another –”

He trails off, searching for the word. The word that follows naturally is ‘hero’, but you understand why he won’t use it. “I don’t want that,” you say. “You can lock me down. As long as I get to lock you down. It’s only fair.”

When you’ve had talks with guys about exclusivity in the past, they’ve looked vaguely annoyed. Tenko actually looks pleased with the thought. Not that that stops him from ribbing you about it. “You’re the one with seven siblings. You don’t like sharing?”

“I hate it.” you say, and he laughs. “You would, too, if you were me.”

Tenko smirks. He leans back from you without loosening his grip. “Go ahead, then,” he says. “Lock me down.”

He really shouldn’t challenge you like that. It gives you ideas. You lean in like you’re going to kiss him again, diverting at the last second to kiss the side of his neck, and Tenko’s complaints about how you don’t get to lock him down if you won’t even kiss him evaporate in seconds. You keep kissing him anyway. He wants you to lock him down? Fine. You’ll make sure everybody who looks at him knows that he belongs to somebody, even if they don’t know who that somebody is.

His neck is sensitive, and he’s not the quiet type. As high as his pain tolerance supposedly is, he’s almost absurdly sensitive to pleasure, and you like the idea of making him feel good a little too much. You know it’s working when Tenko’s grip on you changes, when he starts scrabbling for purchase on your back or your hip rather than holding tight, but even better than that is the unsteady sound of his breathing in your ear, the little noises he makes. You like it when guys are vocal. After one sound that crosses the line into a moan, you stop, and speak without lifting your mouth from his skin. “Locked down enough for you?”

“Fuck,” Tenko mumbles. You draw back to look at him and find his face flushed. “Maybe a little more –”

You kiss his mouth this time. You’re getting used to the taste of blood.

You don’t hear footsteps in the hallway or hear the door open, but you absolutely hear Kurogiri’s voice issuing from the doorway. “Shigaraki Tomura. It is nearly midnight.”

You pull away from Tenko, but not completely enough – there’s a rope of saliva stretching between your lips and his, which you deal with by leaning in to kiss him again. Tenko’s clearly embarrassed by Kurogiri’s presence, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing you back before he pulls away. “Knock next time,” he snaps at Kurogiri. “Are they here?”

“I will retrieve them shortly. Once the two of you are presentable.” Kurogiri apparently doesn’t trust the two of you not to go back to making out. He stands in the doorway, watching as you scramble out of Tenko’s lap and Tenko gets to his feet. “So the date went well?”

There’s that syntax shift again. “Shut up,” Tenko mutters. “Don’t act like you didn’t break my rule. You took her to Sensei. You’re lucky I don’t kill you.”

“If his orders contradict yours, my instructions are to follow his,” Kurogiri says. Tenko’s head snaps up. “I thought you were aware.”

“Now I am.” Tenko straightens his shirt and settles the hand over his face. He turns to face you and you wince. “What?”

You’ve seen the sketch of him from the USJ incident. It’s been all over the news for the past few weeks. “The hands for your neck – you might want them. There’s, um, evidence.”

“Evidence?” Tenko repeats, puzzled. Then his face turns red around the hand. He hurries to the far corner of the room and lifts a set of hands out, quickly securing them around his neck. “Can you see it now?”

You shake your head. “It is well hidden,” Kurogiri remarks. He looks to you. “Your disguise?”

You forgot about that. You collect the veil and crown off the end of the coffee table and secure both over your head. “I will retrieve the others,” Kurogiri says. “But first, the two of you.”

Warp gates open beneath your feet and Tenko’s, and when they close, you find yourselves in the bar again. Kurogiri himself vanishes, and Tenko settles into his usual seat. You stand there awkwardly. “Where do you want me to be?”

“Sit here.” Tenko taps the bar, and you scramble up. “Watch everybody. Keep an eye on the Stain fans. Act like you already know the plan. I should have told you already. I just –”

“You had other things to think about.” Your veil hides your face better than the hand hides Tenko’s – your face can flush until you’re practically glowing and no one will be able to see it unless they’re right up close. “How will I know if you want me to step in?”

“You’ll know when, if you need to. I trust you.” Tenko looks left, then right – then down at his hands. “Fuck. I can’t wear these. They’ll –”

“Here.” You hold out your hands for Tenko’s, and when he extends them, you peel the gloves off and tuck them away. With the model hands on and all ten fingers exposed, he’s different. You’re not sure how to quantify it, but you know it’s there, and it prompts a question. “Should I call you Shigaraki or Tomura?”

“Shigaraki,” he says, and you nod – but then, as the first warp gates begin to appear, he changes his mind. “Tomura. You’re different than they are. They should know from the start.”

So he’s planning to make your status distinct from the others, right from the beginning. You don’t know if that’s a good idea, but before you can protest or push back even slightly, the first of the allies Tenko’s gathered step through the portals, and you fall silent. Unless something goes horrendously wrong, you’re going to stay that way for the duration of the meeting.

The first two villains to arrive are also the youngest – the girl, Toga, and the boy who named himself Mustard, after the gas. Next up is the fire quirk-user, notable because of his patchwork skin and the staples holding the living tissue to the dead. You stare from behind the safety of your veil. You have no idea how his body is holding together. It shouldn’t be possible.

Next is a heteromorph, green-skinned and purple-haired, wearing a Stain mask. He must be the one Tenko – no, Tomura – said was hard to get a read on. The one you’re supposed to watch.

Magne arrives, followed shortly afterwards by a masked man – Compress, definitely, because the two men who arrive last are the murderers Kurogiri must have just broken out of prison. They scare you in a way the others don’t, and you’re so wary of them that you almost miss the arrival of the last villain. And you really shouldn’t miss his arrival. After all, he’s the only villain here who you’ve met before.

“Twice?” you say, startled, and Tomura looks up at you. Luckily, everyone else is still getting their bearings, and at least you said it quietly. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Tell me later,” he says, and then he faces the other villains.

You’re not sure what he’s going to say, where he’s going to start, but in spite of the hands and the crew of monsters he’s assembled, all you can see is your childhood friend when he speaks. He sounds like he always did, laying out the details of the story before the game begins. “The heroes have regained their confidence. Because they dealt with Stain, they think it’s all been solved. I know that at least a few of you have questioned the effectiveness of what the League’s done so far. So have I. So we’re going back to what worked last time. We’re going to attack UA.”

Your stomach lurches. No wonder Tenko didn’t tell you. He must have known you wouldn’t approve. “They’ve tightened up security since your last attack,” Toga pipes up. “I took a look around, like you said. Nobody noticed me, but the whole campus is locked up tight.”

“Good work,” Tomura says, and Toga grins. Her incisors are sharp. “Toga’s reconnaissance confirmed my conclusion: UA is impregnable for now, which is why we’re not attacking the school itself. They’re running a summer training camp at a remote location, with significantly less security. That’s where we’ll hit them.”

“Them,” the fire quirk-user repeats. “Not All Might.”

“Not yet. We need to level up before we take him on.” Tomura’s shoulders are tense. “Hitting the camp, threatening their precious students – if the heroes can’t even protect their own kind, they can’t claim to be capable of protecting everyone else. Besides, that’s not the only reason we’re going there. You all are a good start, but we’ll need more allies if we want to win.”

“Why do you need more?” Mustard asks. “You’ve got us. We’re not good enough?”

Based on the belligerence, this is a sore spot. If Tomura can’t navigate it, you’ll step in – but somewhere beneath the hands, Tomura’s still the kid who knew how to make everybody feel included. “We can’t fight a war on just one front,” he says. “You and the others will win the strategic battle by destroying UA’s sense of superiority. And while you’re doing that, Compress and Toga will collect what we need to win the PR battle as well.”

“Indeed,” Compress agrees. “Are there other students you’d like me to capture, Shigaraki? Or are you interested only in the victor from the Sports Festival?”

The explosion kid. You remember him – the one who was so batshit berserk that he had to be muzzled and chained to a pole for the award ceremony. Tomura wants him for the League? “Use your discretion,” Tomura says. “He’s the priority. If you see others who are better suited to us than to the heroes, take them, too.”

“And I’ll get the blood,” Toga chimes in. Everyone turns to stare at her. “My quirk lets me turn into the people whose blood I drink! I can make myself look like a student, and I can say anything I want.”

Like a living deepfake. You knew Tomura was smart, but this is verging on diabolical. “What about the rest of us, then?” Muscular asks. There’s a sharp smile on his face, and just like Tomura, he’s tense. “Are we supposed to just stand around?”

“There will be pro heroes present,” Tomura says. “Mustard will incapacitate the students, but the pros will be more difficult to handle.”

“Difficult? For me?” Muscular scoffs and takes a step forward. “Just because an underground hero handed you your ass doesn’t mean I’ll have a problem.”

“If Eraserhead cancels your quirk, you’ll be in the same spot as me,” Tomura says shortly. He gets to his feet. Not good. “If you think I’m that easy to defeat, try your luck.”

It looks like Muscular wants to. Tomura’s hands are open at his sides, rising slightly, and just like you did in the convenience store last year, you speak up. “Both of your records speak for themselves,” you say, and Muscular turns to stare at you. “Tomura recognizes that the pros pose a threat to the success of the plan. And he recognizes that you’re well-equipped to handle them. That’s why you’re here.”

It’s quiet for a second. Muscular doesn’t step back into line, and neither does Tomura – but neither of them make a move, and when Tomura speaks again, Muscular doesn’t interrupt. “If you haven’t been given a more specific assignment, your job is to sow chaos,” he says. “Dabi, Spinner, Magne, Muscular, Moonfish – deal with the pros. If you have the opportunity to kill them, do it, as slowly or as quickly as you’d like. If not, keep them out of the way.”

“What about the students?”

Moonfish sounds like he’s speaking through a mouthful of razors. It makes your skin crawl, but Tomura doesn’t flinch. “The focus needs to be on the heroes and their failings, not on a bunch of dead kids. If that happens, that’s all anyone will talk about,” Tomura says. “Hurt them. Don’t kill them. That goes for all of them – except one.”

“Which one?”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“No.” The green-skinned heteromorph speaks up for the first time. “Not him.”

Tomura turns towards him, incredulous, and the heteromorph keeps talking. “Stain spared his life. He recognized him as a true hero. I won’t subvert Stain’s will like that.”

A joke pops into your head – Stain’s not gonna fuck you – and you clench your jaw shut. “Stain’s will?” Tomura repeats. “Stain lost.”

“His ideas still live,” the heteromorph – Spinner, you think – says. “Are you following in Stain’s footsteps or not?”

You see Tomura’s shoulders tense again and realize that you’ve got approximately three seconds before he blows his top. “Stain and Tomura share a belief that hero society is rotten to the core,” you say. “The fact that the only examples of true heroes Stain could find are All Might and a fifteen-year-old illustrates the decay. Don’t you think?”

You’ve put Tomura and Stain on the same conceptual level, and you’ve put Spinner on the spot – and most importantly, you’ve contained Tomura for the time being. “I guess,” Spinner says after a second. “I still don’t think –”

“If you’re worried about following in Stain’s footsteps, follow them by killing false heroes,” Tomura interrupts. “There will be plenty to choose from at the training camp. Don’t concern yourself with Midoriya Izuku. Act as your ideals demand.”

Tomura glances around the room. “That goes for all of you. Use what methods you’d like. Act as you see fit, so long as those actions don’t imperil our common goal. Disrupt the camp, disable any pro heroes who get in your way, kill them if you want, and assist Toga and Compress in completing their objectives.”

It’s quiet. You can tell Tomura’s waiting for an argument, and when one doesn’t come right away, he picks one. “Does anyone have issues with their assigned role?”

“I have an issue,” the fire quirk-user says. Dabi, you think. The one Tomura said was an asshole, and when he points one finger at you, you decide you agree with Tomura’s assessment. “What’s your role? Who are you?”

“Yeah,” Muscular says. “What’s under that veil? And why do you talk so much?”

“She’s our medic,” Tomura says. “She’s trustworthy.”

“She’s hiding her face.”

“So am I,” Twice pipes up. “And Compress. Shigaraki, too. Besides, it’s good to have a medic! If the medic’s good.”

You owe Twice for having your back, even if he doesn’t know you. Dabi doesn’t look convinced. “What’s your name?” he repeats.

“You get her name when I get yours,” Tomura says. “My alliance with her existed before the League did. She’s trustworthy.”

Toga squints at you, then takes a few steps closer. “I like your costume,” she says. “You look like a bride.”

“I can’t see your face at all,” Magne says. “Hopefully it’s cuter than the veil is.”

“I hope so, too,” you say. Magne laughs.

Tomura doesn’t like that. You can tell. “Kurogiri, bring the maps,” he orders. A warp gate opens in the middle of the room, disgorging a map taped to a rolling whiteboard. “I don’t know your quirks as well as you do. We’ll devise this attack plan collectively.”

Tomura wasn’t in school long enough to learn what a pain in the ass group project are, but given that villains don’t like being bossed around, it’s not the worst strategy. You hang back, physically and verbally, steering clear of Dabi and Muscular and only stepping in when the temperature needs to be turned down. You’re the least powerful person in a room full of people who think nothing of throwing their weight around. In some ways, it’s just like being at home with your family.

Tomura asked you to watch, and you start piecing together an understanding of the group’s dynamic. The most stable individuals in the group are Kurogiri, Magne, and Compress, all by a long shot. The most easily dysregulated is Mustard, and while you think Dabi and Muscular can probably control themselves, you also think they’ll choose not to. You have a pretty good grasp on Twice from your previous meeting. Moonfish doesn’t say enough for you to be able to tell, but he also doesn’t start fights, and Toga’s a dark horse. So is Spinner.

Spinner’s hard for you to figure. He’s got no criminal record, but unlike Toga and Mustard, he’s old enough to have collected one. He’s probably the biggest Stain fan of the group, the only one who pushed back against Tomura on ideological grounds, but he’s also something of a team player. His role in the attack gets settled early, and he shifts to the outskirts of the group. After a few minutes psyching yourself up to do it, you slide down from the bar and join him.

He glances over at you, then double-takes. “You look like a ghost in that thing,” he says. “It works, though. I’d hide my face if my face mattered.”

“How do you mean?” you ask. “You’re joining the League of Villains. Your face is about to get pretty famous if you don’t cover it up.”

Spinner laughs, but there’s a rueful note to it. “I’m not exactly breaking hearts by turning to a life of crime. At least this way I’m doing something with my life.”

Weird and weirder. “What were you before this? If it’s okay for me to ask.”

“Only if it’s okay for me to ask how long you’ve known Shigaraki.”

You think about that. “Does ‘a long time’ count as an answer?”

“That depends. Is it months or years?” Spinner asks. You don’t know if you should answer that, and Spinner can tell. “I know I pissed him off earlier. You shut it down pretty fast. I figure either it’s your quirk or you just know him really well.”

“It’s not my quirk,” you say. You think back to the first time Tenko told you his new name. “Less than forever, more than a year.”

“I was a shut-in,” Spinner says, answering your question without responding to your answer to his. No wonder he’s got a record. It’s hard to get a record when you don’t leave your room. “That video of Stain’s is the first thing I ever saw that made sense. If you all have the same goal as Stain did, then I’m in the right spot.”

You nod. Someone is raising their voice in the group, and you key in – but it’s just one of the versions of Twice, getting excited about something. Spinner glances curiously at you. “You sure you don’t have an alias or something?”

You shake your head. You might be at a meeting of villains, wearing a disguise, listening to them plan to kidnap one high school student and traumatize the hell out of a few more, but picking out a name for yourself feels a little far. If Tomura thinks you need a name, he’ll probably give one to you.

The meeting breaks up two hours after midnight. You missed hearing the date the attack will take place, possibly on purpose, and when the group splits, leaving just you and Tomura and Kurogiri, you don’t ask what it was. Kurogiri pours drinks for you and Tomura. You sit down at the bar next to him, and he speaks without looking up from his glass. “What did you find out about Spinner?”

“He was a shut-in before. As long as you can tie your goals to Stain’s, he’ll follow along,” you say. Tomura nods. “How did the rest of it go?”

“I’m leaving some of the on-site planning to them. I’m not there to give orders, so they need to be able to adapt.” Tomura takes a sip of his drink. “Dabi’s a pain in the ass, like I thought, but I’m giving him temporary control of a Nomu to use during the fight. That should keep him quiet for now.”

He’s thought of everything. “You’re good at this stuff,” you say. “You barely needed me.”

Tomura looks up. “Yes, I do.”

It’s quiet for a little bit after that. You and Tomura drink, you staring down into your glass and Tomura staring at you, until you look up at the clock behind the bar and realize what time it is. “I have work in the morning. I have to go home.”

“Stay.” Tomura catches your sleeve with three fingers, but a small portal opens, depositing your bag a few feet away on the bar. “Kurogiri can take you to work from here.”

“I can’t show up in yesterday’s clothes. And I need to sleep. So do you.” You’re right, and Tomura knows it. He scowls anyway. He’s never happy when you leave, but right now he looks unhappier than usual. “What is it?’

“Once the attack happens, I can’t bring you back until things settle down.” Tomura’s looking unhappier by the second. “The brat can’t see you until I know he’s with us.”

“Oh,” you say. You wonder how long that will take. “That’s okay. I understand.”

“It’s not okay,” Tomura snaps. “It’s – take that thing off. I need to see you.”

You take it off quickly. “Kurogiri,” Tomura says. “Turn around.”

“I will return in five minutes.”

Kurogiri vanishes, and once he does, Tomura lowers the hand from his face, pries the other two from around his neck, and just like that, he’s Tenko again. “It’s not okay,” he repeats. “I need you with me. I feel different when you’re here.”

“Different than what?” you ask. He must think it’s a positive change, or he wouldn’t want you to stay. Tenko doesn’t answer. “Send Kurogiri to get me as soon as it’s safe, Ten. I’ll be waiting.”

You see his eyes light up ever so slightly, but it fades fast. “You’ll forget.”

Your heart aches, but this is something you can fix. “Let me show you something.”

The last forty-eight hours have been chaos, and you’ve spent most of it miserable, terrified, drunk, hungover, or making out with your childhood best friend on his couch. But somewhere in the middle of that, you managed to get into one of the two boxes you brought home from your parents’ purge and take something out. You couldn’t bring yourself to wear the locket, but you tucked it into your bag along with your disguise, and when you put your disguise away, you fish it out.

Tenko looks suspicious. “Who gave you that.”

“My parents, probably. That’s not the important part.” You close your eyes and struggle to come up with an explanation, one that doesn’t make you sound obsessed or insane or too invested in this, in him. “I found this in a box in my parents’ house. There was a lot of stuff in there about you and me.”

“Like what?”

“Pictures,” you say. “A birthday gift from you. The valentine you gave me. I put all that stuff in there when I was ten and taped it shut.”

“Why?”

“My parents were taking me to get my memory wiped the next day, so I really would forget.” You see Tenko’s eyes widen. “I hid that stuff from them, but I saved it for me. So even if the memory wipe worked, I could open it up and remember you again.”

You open the locket and hold it out for Tenko to inspect. You see his expression twist. “I never forgot about you,” you say. “When we saw each other again, that’s why I reacted that way. I always hoped you were alive. If I didn’t forget you in fifteen years, a few days or weeks or months isn’t going to make a difference.”

Tenko’s jaw is clenched. The tendons in his neck stand out, and his hands are curled into fists at his sides. You were trying to help, but it looks like you’ve made it worse. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have –”

Tenko seizes you and yanks you into his arms. “Shut up,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shoulder, or maybe your chest. “How am I supposed to let you leave now?”

“You have to. It’ll be okay,” you say. “I did promise not to go on any dates with heroes.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your arms are around Tenko, and you feel his shoulders shake. “That’s not funny.”

You know that particular note in his voice. It makes you feel better. “Don’t laugh, then.”

Tenko snorts, hugs you closer and tighter. Then he lets you go. “Next time you’ll stay,” he says.

“If I have the next day off, sure,” you say, and Tenko smiles slightly. “We never got to have sleepovers before.”

It’s true. You asked and so did he, but your parents said you were too young, even though neither of you would have been farther from home than right across the street. You see Kurogiri reappear out of the corner of your eye and know you’re out of time. “Be careful,” you say to Tenko. “Come find me as soon as it’s safe.”

“I will.” Tenko gets to his feet. “Turn around, Kurogiri.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing going on over there that I want to see.”

One of these days you’re going to ask Tenko why Kurogiri’s like that, why he seems like he’s two people in one. Not tonight. There isn’t time. You have time for one more kiss with Tenko, but that’s all – and the instant the two of you separate to take a breath, Kurogiri warps you away, dropping you back in your apartment. Your bag lands on the couch next to you. You still have the locket clenched in one hand. There are still a few drops of Tenko’s blood on your lips.

You lick them away, feeling twenty kinds of insane as you do it. Your mind is crowded with dozens of questions, thoughts, images, memories, all of them demanding to be addressed at once. You kick off your shoes, move your bag to the floor, and lie back on the couch. Your eyelids are heavy the instant you’re horizontal, and by the time it occurs to you that you should let go of the locket or at least put it somewhere safe, you’re fast asleep.

[tsukimefuku]

Hello, you amazing citizens of Tumblr. Here we are, the first writing challenge I’m happy to hold for no particular reason other than challenges are very fun.

We all know and love many Jujutsu Kaisen characters, and I guess many of us love food too. So, what if we join both passions in this challenge?

Welcome to “JJK foodies and goodies”, where you can send as part of the challenge a fic relating any JJK character with - you guessed it - food!

Slutty smut using food other than intended? Food preference head canons? A dinner scene? The sky is the limit, guys.

One fic per writer.

Said fic or Drabble must be within the 400-2000 word count limit.

It has to be an original/not already posted piece, that was written specially for the challenge.

It must feature at least one JJK character in a main role.

There is no need for it to be “x Reader”.

Any genre is accepted, but be sure to tag it correctly at the beginning of your fic.

Just to write and have fun with it. I might think of a next challenge with an actual prize, like a fanart or something of that sort, but this is supposed to be a simple bonding experience among writers and readers from the community. By the end of the challenge, I intend to make a masterlist with all of the submitted fics and put it in my pinned post.

All submissions must be POSTED on your own blogs, TAGGING me (@tsukimefuku) and LINKING this challenge at the beginning, after May 26th and until June 21st.

Any story posted for the challenge after that deadline won’t be on the challenge’s masterlist.

Considering this will be an extensive challenge to unite jjk fans and writers across the platform, I’d like to provide writers with a taglist for when they post their stories.

Readers and writer-readers: if you’d like to be on the tag list and support your fav writers works, please fill out this form (link) UNTIL MAY 25TH.

Writers interested in taking part on this challenge: on May 25th I’ll EDIT this post, putting the tag list here at the end for you to use on your fic, so be sure to save this somewhere safe :)

You don’t have to use the tag list, but you can if you want!

And this is it, loves! Hope you all have fun. I know I will 🤓🦉

[liketwoswansinbalance]

hi, do you have any takes/opinions or analysis of japeth? sorry if you've already posted something and i've missed it, i'm just eagerly hunting for japeth content 🫡🫡

I haven’t really done any substantial #japethposting, or anything exactly full-scale, but he has been a part of certain sections of some of the analyses I've done. You can find some of them by typing "#japeth" into the search bar of my blog. Or, if anyone wants me to, I could look for the links and send them to you. And, this overall precedent doesn’t mean I won’t possibly post about him in the future, potentially if/when I start my reread of The Camelot Years.

Generally speaking, I don't think I've paid enough attention to him to be able to analyze him in great depth. That said, I will redirect you to @discjude as she/they is/(are?) the Japeth expert, and her/their analyses are phenomenal! (Please tell me if I've gotten your pronouns wrong and sorry in advance if anything is wrong, Jude.)

Though, I will leave you with one meager headcanon: it seems unlikely, but if Japeth were musically-inclined, I think he’d play atypical instruments, like the serpent and the ophicleide because of course he would. Music could be his opportunity to rebel, defy what's expected of him, while also referencing his snake symbolism.

Here, you can listen to some orchestral performances involving these instruments. If you start the first of the videos around the timestamp 3:38 and listen to the end, you can hear the deeper, foreboding, lower-pitched parts and some tense, stringent parts that sound higher, like his Scims whirling, to my mind. There's a very obviously sinister "march" of sorts, with ghastly, winding, serpentine "movements," twists, and turns.

[immortalthunderstorm]

Aemond Targaryen and the Brothel Madam: A Case of Vulnerability? 

With the final trailer out and conversations running rampant, @liv000000 and I have been bouncing off ideas and theories on that Aemond shot and our thoughts on it. Obviously none of these are set in stone and need to be taken with a very sizeable pinch of salt as we don’t really have anything concrete to base it on, so a lot of this really is us just weaving scenarios together and trying to craft a narrative and character exploration based on a few crumbs.

Before we start off, we’d like to just say that we are not necessarily in favour of these. House of the Dragon has a history of often brushing over sexual trauma without giving those moments the recognition they deserve - we aren’t confident that this show is the right medium to accurately present such sensitive topics and that the writers really wish to do this in depth beyond victimisation and shock value. Neither is the fandom as we’ve now gotten to know it at large mature enough to accept and analyse these, especially if it involves a character they aren’t particularly fond of, as we’ve seen with the Alicent-Viserys rape scene or the ‘Foot Scene’ with Larys which got turned into a joke and yet again was squarely placed at Alicen’t feet as something that is somehow her fault and not the guy’s who was sexually assaulting her.

But, although we dislike the overall sentiment, we still want to try to make sense of it. 

We’re here to talk about this scene:

Some eagle-eyed fans have connected the hand holding Aemond here to the one of S1EP09’s brothel madam which he encounters with Criston Cole on their search for Aegon (there’s a scar beneath her knuckles that the actress, Michelle Bonnard, also has). For this analysis, we will pretend that this is confirmed.

For reference, we’re talking about this lady here:

A bit of background of what we learn of her and her ‘connection’ to Aemond:

“Aegon brought me to the Street of Silk on my 13th name day. It was his duty as my brother, he said, to ensure I was as educated as he was. At least that's what I understood him to mean. [...] He said, ‘Time to get it wet.’”

For his thirteenth nameday, Aegon took Aemond to the Street of Silk to lose his virginity, no doubt as a right of passage to essentially have him become a man, as fostered by Westerosi culture (we could write an entire other meta about this and Aegon’s perspective but won’t get into it here). Notice that Aemond expressed that he himself wasn’t sure of the advantage/purpose of this and just parrots what Aegon said to him without actively supporting this as his own opinion. It’s something he clearly didn’t really want to do himself but went along with because his older brother told him to.

Cole asks her about Aegon, while Aemond stands next to him, silent. At the end of the conversation, she says (flirtatiously):

“I wish you luck, good Ser. And my best to your friend. [to Aemond] How you've grown.”

This is personal, she recognises him. Was she the one to take his virginity? It seems likely. He clearly also hasn’t been back there since that day.

How does Aemond react to this?

He clearly still feels very uncomfortable around her even three years later, can’t maintain eye contact, shrinks away etc. This has no doubt ruined his perception of sex and engrained in his mind, the act of sexual intimacy is something unpleasant, humiliating, and potentially painful.

@darksvster also posted the script of this scene, which has Aemond ‘clearly shaken’ over being confronted with his abuser.

Since we know he hasn’t been back to the brothel since, him going there willingly now invites the presumption that this requires some sort of extreme trigger moment for him.

The two moments we’ll delve into for this are Blood & Cheese and Rook’s Rest, in which members of his family get hurt either directly or indirectly as a consequence of his actions. This also adds up with the leaks that the actress of the brothel madam is going to have a nude scene in either episode 2 (post B&C) or episode 5 (post RR).

Theory 1: Self Punishment

(we found this gif on Reddit, please let us know if you are or know who the original creator is and we’ll credit them)

In this shot, Aemond looks mentally defeated. His cheeks are wet, but he is not actively sobbing. He’s despondent and catatonic—empty. He also looks the most vulnerable we have ever seen him. His eye patch is off (something that we know from the book he rarely exposed on accounts of insecurity and ‘scaring the ladies’), he is naked and lying in a foetal position while someone (the brothel madam?) is holding onto his arm.

As we’ve explored how traumatic his first experience with her must have been, and how he was unwilling to even look her in the eye, much less seek her out for intimacy. This could be a form of utter self-punishment, a willing reenactment of the second most traumatic experience in his life. After B&C, he’d feel troubling amounts of guilt, so this is his way of putting himself through as much mental and bodily harm as possible. If this was about pleasure or comfort, it is doubtful he would go back to the woman who never gave him that feeling. Neither does his body language here show anything other than anguish. He’s partly disassociating.

There is also a theory floating about that rather than having 6 year old Jaeheara threatened with rape as in the book, this will be given to Helaena in the show (understandably so, as little Olive was only six at the time of filming).We could see the taunts being passed onto Helaena as her mother is tied up and can do nothing to help her, and it works just as well as it serves as humiliation to Aegon, as she’s his wife. In the shot below, Cheese has Helaena by the hair, very close to his body, and he’s delighting in her torment. This would hurt Aemond deeply, as he’s shown to be fond of Helaena and takes it upon himself to defend her whenever necessary. So, he’s essentially putting himself (guilty) to what his sister (innocent) was subjected to in his grief.

Theory 2: Emotional Incest

Emotional incest is a family dynamic that oversteps healthy boundaries between children and parents. It's a type of abuse in which a parent looks to their child for the emotional support that would be normally provided by another adult. The effects of covert incest on children when they become adults are thought to mimic actual incest, although to a lesser degree. It’s normally found in adults, but if you have people pleasing children (or parentification), they sometimes want to take on the role of the partner, rather than the child.

There are a few instances in this season, hinted at in the trailers and supported by the book, in which Alicent and Aemond won’t see eye to eye - she will not be happy with how he killed Luke and essentially ended all chances of peace. She also seems to advocate for caution and diplomacy alongside Otto whereas Aegon and Aemond will be out for revenge and full war. If we go by the book and Aemond also is the one to injure Aegon at Rook’s Rest, she will probably give Aemond the cold-shoulder after he’s willingly or unwillingly endangered his own brother. She’s shown to want to take the slow and diplomatic approach in this war, to avoid bloodshed as enough has been spilled, whereas her sons are eager for battle and war to get vengeance for the tragedy that has befallen them. She no doubt will give him an “I told you so” lecture, and Aemond will perhaps seek comfort, as he’s grown a twisted sense of his abuser after revisiting her in the brothel.

This adds to the theory that young Aemond chose the brothel madam specifically out of a need for comfort. In a situation like the one he was subjected to he chose a whore who at least looked like the person he feels safest around, his own mother who is a source of comfort for him and who he loves deeply. If that is the case, this paired with with the mental consequences of this encounter, it could develop into him being attracted to and seeking out women who remind him of her. This could also impact his later relationship with Alys Rivers.

We really dislike this, as much as it could make sense. Aemond is one of the few men in Alicent’s life who loves her without desiring or exploiting her, their relationship in season 1 was very soft and if the above is the case it adds a bit of a sinister and sexual note to a parent-child dynamic which so far has been relatively unproblematic.

[codenamesazanka]

Here's the intro snippet of my AU where Spinner wasn't able to wake Shigaraki up, the League got captured at Jaku, and Shigaraki stayed comatose for like half a year before the HPSC was able to separate AFO (quirk) from him, which would hopefully get rid of his regeneration and they can execute him.

Unexpectedly, the procedure triggered amnesia in Shigaraki, so when he woke up, he only has his memories of Tenko, pre-AFO, though mentally and physically he's still 21-years-old. (he knows things, he just as no memories or experiences attached to knowing) All Might pleaded for stay of execution, and instead give Tenko rehabilitation. It was granted.

Basically Amnesic!Shigaraki/Tenko AU.

•

On Thursdays, the man who calls himself All Might comes to visit him. He matches nothing in Tenko’s memories of the Hero Tenko once admired, skeletally skinny where All Might was wide and huge, quiet and serious contrasting boisterous brightness, and in place of the welcoming smile the Hero always had was instead a nearly permanent frown, as if the tips of his mouth were tugged down by invisible weights he carried with him everywhere.

One of those weights is Tenko himself. Yagi won’t admit it, even though it looked like a hundred more kilograms got added to the dreary pull when Tenko had said this. If it weren’t for the fact that his statement is true, Tenko would almost feel like an evil Villain (ha) for dealing such a blow to All Might.

(Honesty isn’t wrong, Tenko had argued to Dr. Neri.

But insensitivity is, the therapist replied.)

“You don’t have to visit me every week,” Tenko says to Yagi, now knowing to roll his words into smooth round balls like the clay he was allowed to play with once. “It’s boring here, and you’ve got other stuff to do, don’t you?”

Meetings to attend. Students to teach. His life to get back to.

“I want to be here,” Yagi says. “I enjoy these visits, Young Tenko.” Then he smiles, but softly.

(Smile back, the therapy voice inside Tenko’s head advises.)

“…Suit yourself,” Tenko says, shrugging, then, remembering himself, stopped his hand from rising to rub at his neck. He places his hands back flat on the table, the cuffs of his gloves clanking against the surface, metal against metal. Turning the sound into taps, he begins recounting all he had done since he saw Yagi last. “Then, this week… I read that book Midoriya recommended, the one about UFOs. I finished the forest puzzle. Dr. Neri brought in macarons, but I didn’t like them much…”

“Too sweet?”

“All strawberry flavored. I guess I’m not a fan of strawberries…”

They chat like that for an hour, Tenko grasping for details to share. His memory is at the point where he can recount every meal he had last week, if out of order. Compared to when he first started rehab, unable to pick out the words he wanted to use, or recall his own age after being told just minutes before, it’s a huge improvement.

Past that, though…

When time’s up, Yagi walks him to his cell, before leaving back into the broken world that Tenko came from but cannot recall.

•

In this AU post-Jaku, Hero Society has captured Shigaraki and most of the League/PLF; Tartarus is still locked up; now it’s promising the masses that things will ‘go back to normal’. everyone kinda wants to swept away the whole mess and move on learning not a single thing.

Most of the public thinks Shigaraki is locked up deep in Tartarus, shackled 24/7; instead of at a very guarded private villain hospital undergoing rehab. All Might really wants Tenko to be rehabilitated. He also really hopes Tenko will never regain his memories of being Shigaraki. No one does. They hope to iron out all his edges (both amnesia-induced and seemingly innate) too. Clean slate.

The story told to Tenko is that he has been kidnapped and held prisoner by a Villain for the past 15 years. He was only recently rescued, but thanks to a psychic quirk attack, he lost his memories. He unfortunately was forced to participate in criminal acts, so he's in prison/rehab. Tenko is generally agreeable, tho feeling stifled. He is very aware of this giant void of information no one is telling him, but reluctantly trusts his doctors that it's just temporary as he makes his recovery. He is also very aware of the way people treat him - so careful, so aloof, so wary - but given how he's a criminal, that's probably to be expected. Still hurts, though.

Trouble starts when Tenko slowly starts regaining his Shigaraki memories. The HPSC wants to execute him. The doctors think it's possible to have him regain his memories while 'keeping' non-dangerous, non-villainous Tenko. They just have to help him regain his memories in a controlled manner.

Enter Iguchi Shuuichi. Weakest member of the League, but still have been locked in Tartarus for the past year. He's not doing well. But the doctors think he's the safest option to introduce to Tenko to help nudge memories out, so he's now allowed weekly supervised visits to Shigaraki Tenko. Before the visits started, psychologists drilled into him what he can or cannot do, what he can or cannot bring up. They also went and mindfucked him by convincing him that his relationship with Shigaraki was fake and toxic, he was essentially accessory to AFO's long-term grooming and Stockholm Syndrome, and if he cared about his friend at all, he'll help them rehabilitate Tenko. Yeah, Shuuichi was not doing well, but he'll endure it to be able to see his friend again.

They're fast friends, Tenko and Shuuichi, despite Shuuichi's depression and nervousness. They play games together, they watch TV together, but often they can just talk and talk for the entire hour. There's a deep sadness to Shuuichi, though, that Tenko wished he could help unravel and dissipate. When he tried, once, asking about Shuuichi's hometown, about Shuuichi's school days, Shuuichi got bodily taken out of the meeting room by guards and the following week's session was canceled.

(Prohibited Topic: Bullying. Risk of triggering aggression in Tenko.)

Tenko didn't like that.

Eventually, he finds that there are many things he actually doesn't like. He doesn't like that all the books and media allowed into his cell must be pre-approved. He doesn't like the way he gets interrogated for each recovered memory. He doesn't like the way Toshinori looked so grim when Tenko decided to switch from 'boku' to 'ore'. And most of all, he doesn't like the way Shuuichi looks so empty and haunted, so quiet and passive. It's because of this place, Tenko feels. They might be criminals, they might be Villains, but they shouldn't be made to feel so small and cornered.

This is the way things work here, the doctors tell Tenko.

Then I hate it, Tenko thinks, and feels a strange intense burst of energy in his chest.

-

Lots of stuff happen. More bad than good. For the end of the fic, though, this is what I think:

Toga, who escaped Heroes, and has been regrouping with other escaped PLF members, shows up on Gigantomachia at the hospital to rescue Tenko. Tenko has a choice: Go with Toga, or retreat with the staff to wait for Heroes. This is where everyone waits to see if the months of rehabilitation had worked…

To everyone’s disappointment and some surprise, Tenko decides to go with Toga.

Someone yells. "Tenko. Don’t leave. You were doing so well."

"...Was I?"

"Don’t you remember? Wanting to be a Hero? You told us that yourself."

"…I remember wanting to help people. I remember wanting to be kind."

"Yes, exactly! That’s still you—"

"—That’s why. I want to save people... even if they are the ones Heroes don’t. Even if no one else does. If I want to be a hero… then it’s to all the ones that get ignored."

Then Tenko joins Toga and they goes to get Shuuichi Spinner. Let's throw in Tenko rescuing Spinner in bridal carry too, somehow.

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

Amity Park: US MOST HAUNTED!

Amity Park: The Faceblind City!

except the westons

[theworstcreature]

As someone who used to be downright OBSESSED with Percy Jackson, this show is making me trust the process so fucking hard