#hen-solo

[pocketfullofsimshine]

new farm friend / meet doo / this little chick is apart of a duo / the other chick is named doodle / so now, we have doodle doo lol

[apparently-artless]

Winter Anime 2024 Watchlist

Mashle: Magic and Muscles Season 2

Kyuujitsu no Warumono-san

Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Douchuu Season 2

Boku no Kokoro no Yabai Yatsu Season 2

30-sai made Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni Nareru Rashii (Cherry Magic!)

Classroom of the Elite Season 3

Solo Leveling

Dungeon Meshi

Ao no Exorcist: Shimane Illuminati-hen

Sasaki to Pii-chan

Recommended to me:

Yubisaki to Renren

Bucchigiri?!

UPDATE: I am currently accepting requests for these series. For more details, CHECK THIS POST. ;)

[souloperatorpod]

I am thrilled to announce a new member of our cast who will be playing a very familiar character.

Please welcome Nova Limb, who will be playing resident gardener Hen Connors!

You can re-familiarize yourself with the rest of our cast on the website!

[aullandote-noches-de-luna-llena]

Tú crees que no eres especial que lo hago con todas igual. Si algún día conocieras como soy por dentro

[ellenhuttereborn]

pls stop dragging chim into ship wars, hasnt my man suffered enough

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 3; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

“What is this anyway—‘bring your girlfriend to work’ day?”

She’s snarky as ever, but with an agitated edge. Nerves prickling when Johnny holds her jacket out for her to slip her arms into. Even that makes her snap—something about not being a toddler that Johnny needs to help dress, but by then his head is in the clouds. In another place altogether. 

The prospect of getting to parade his new girl around leaves him giddy, fox-like grin hard to squash. He doesn’t suppress anything, finds it hard to push things down. When he does, it’s often unconscious. 

She doesn’t like the way he savours her anxiety like a fine wine, sniffs it from the top of her head and groans out his breath, cackling when she tries to stomp on his foot to make him go away. He dances away with her coat, light and nimble on his feet because he’s used to ducking and weaving for her affection. 

“The guys wanna meet ye,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. It’s surprising how many times he’s had to say it. 

“Why? Haven’t they ever met a girl before?” she gripes, swallowing now, her stomach probably cramping and poor bonnie lass, Johnny thinks. His poor, pretty girl is trying to put on a brave face when he knows she prefers being in the backroom of her little flower shop, snipping off stalks and tying pretty bows around pretty bouquets. He wishes he could keep her back there forever—put a lock on the door and come only to smother her in kisses and gorge himself on every inch of her—but there’s a whole wide world demanding his attention. 

“Aye, hen, never a lass as cute and sweet as ye,” he crows, ducking a hand that punches through the sleeve of her jacket in his direction. 

In the car, he drops the facade. Loses his teasing edge. It’s a violent removal, like jolting awake to the sound of someone sawing away at a catalytic converter. If his smile is saccharine, it’s really only a smokescreen concealing the apprehension bubbling away in his belly. 

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel on the drive back to base. Heart in his throat, choking his words and rendering him quiet for once in his life. He hears Ghost’s voice in his head, a low rumbling laugh, tectonic plates shifting beneath his feet. These days, his voice acts as a lodestar, the thing steering Johnny home. 

Months ago, it was the only thing between him and annihilation, the ice cold maelstrom dragging him deeper into its maw. Guiding him through the valley of death. The wound in his arm still aches in the first light of day. His sleep is still wracked by dreams of running down alleys and ducking into houses, the rain pattering against the window panes ominous, a ticking clock, each step having to be precise, calculated, each movement quieter than quiet, fading into the shadows, a cool heart and mind bested by agony from the bulletwound in his shoulder.

And then—Ghost’s voice, low and soothing in his ear, shattering the pain. Ghost’s voice in his ear telling him where to go, how to survive. 

It’s hard to explain. Johnny’s tried. It’s like talking in circles when he opens his mouth and tries to get it out. I trust him with everything in me. He could do anything to me, anything. 

He is no less capable, no less competent. His rank demands respect, and he takes what’s due to him. Since Las Almas, he’s worked across a medley of other teams, even solo a time or two. It changes nothing. He still wakes in a sweat, chasing that voice. It takes him back into the real world. The days burn into the fringes of a memory that he is always living.

“Should I know anyone’s name before we get there?”

Her voice breaks through the noise in his head this time. It’s every bit as precious. 

“What d’ye mean, hen?” he asks, clucking his tongue. Sweats a bit when he realizes how far down the motorway they are now, how long it’s been since he checked out, lost in his thoughts. One hand rests loose on her leg, fingers spread wide and thumb gliding up and down her outer thigh, the other still holding the wheel. 

The pinched look has mostly fallen off from her face, but there’s still a tremble in her lower lip when she says, “Well, I don’t know any of your friends. I wouldn’t introduce you to my friends without telling you their names first.”

“No’ my friends, hen—we’re coworkers.”

She looks over at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m friends with my coworkers.”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s no’ the same with guys. Couldnae tell you fuck all about any of them except their names, to be honest.”

“Oh, don’t give me that—you’re not friends with a single one of them? No one?”

No hunger without resistance. His mouth goes bone dry. He’d be wise to learn that. 

He swallows. “Maybe a few.”

No transaction without accountability. Ghost saves his life and now Johnny has to pay that debt back tenfold. Sinking into the crease of Simon’s voice late at night, clutching it to his chest. Breathing it out. Maybe they are friends. 

He’s a bit show-offy at the base gates, dangling his ID card out the window pinched between two fingers. The civilian guard on duty just waves him on, scanning it only for the sake of the logs. His tires spin in the dirt when he guns it down the stretch of road leading into the base, windows still all the way down. Her hair whips around in the wind until she gathers it all up in her fist and shrieks at him to roll the windows up. 

Johnny enjoys showing off. That’s a core aspect of who he is, his charm. Braggadocious, confident in the way he looks, his physical prowess, his lot in life—so why would that change with his girl? He holds her close with an arm around her waist when he drags her through the rec centre, the building closest to where they parked. 

He gets lost in conversation for longer than expected. Pure gloating about the girl he’s managed to bag. Cooing in her ear when he feels her get a bit uneasy, still timid around the other guys despite having him at her side. He supposes that’s fair. She’s more comfortable around the women on base, a bit freer with her greeting and questions, but there’s still a pinch in her brow that never smooths all the way over.

It takes a while to find anyone that he knows. There are plenty of sergeants and corporals that he’s worked with before, familiar faces and names, but Johnny still glances around the room while they make light conversation with his girl, searching. Looking for something familiar, something that’ll reel him in, make him perk up like a dog catching a scent. 

They cross Gaz in a random hallway on the way to the comm centre, hardly recognizable at first with the darker stubble of his beard grown out. He must’ve just come back from wherever he’d been shipped off to the month previous, no time to shave or clean up. He even smells of old sweat when Johnny leans in for a hug. 

“Is this—?” Gaz glances over at her just once while the question dangles in the air. He looks back over at Johnny. 

They lock eyes. A silent exchange of meaning. 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, steering her in front of him with both hands on her shoulders, showing his girl off like a kid with a new toy. Eyes glinting like, don’t say a word. “Brought her in to meet everyone.”

A molasses slow smile spreads across Gaz’s face. It’s clear why men like him always get the girl. Johnny’s hands tighten on her shoulders. “Nice to meet you—thought John would hide you away forever.”

She glances up at him through her lashes. “You talked about me?”

Gaz shakes his head. “Not as much as you’d think. Took Ghost ages to get it out of him.”

Johnny flushes. “Did no’. Jus’ ‘cause I don’ blab about everything under the fuckin’ sun doesnae mean—”

“John says you’re a florist,” Gaz interrupts, turning the conversation back to her. Her lips split up into a mischievous little grin, delighted at the turnabout, probably delighted at seeing Johnny stumble over his words.

Something about her teasing grin gets his dick hard. More points to the rapidly disintegrating belief that he doesn’t have a humiliation kink. He leans forward, pressing it into her ass, delighted himself when she shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder but doesn’t pull away. 

“So, where’s everybody?” Johnny asks casually, trying not to make it too obvious who he’s referring to. The look Gaz gives him is unimpressed. He keeps running into that brick wall, his thoughts written out on his forehead, obvious to everyone around him. 

“Everyone?” Gaz repeats sceptically. 

“Aye.” His voice is tight, warning. “Everyone.”

“Ghost’s actually on his way here now, I think. We got called over to HQ—s’where I was headed, actually.”

“I dinnae say anything about Ghost, now did I—,” Johnny grumbles, but the words dissolve in his mouth when the man in question comes into the room. 

Sometimes, Johnny has the pleasure of seeing Ghost round a corner. The split second pleasure of being the observer, of dragging his eyes up and over, his chest bursting with a light like dawn cresting behind mountains and splitting the sky. In the field, he’s often deprived of that; becomes used to experiencing the phenomenon of Ghost melting out of the shadows, sometimes scaring the daylights out of him. 

It’s what happens now though. Glancing up on a whim only to see a man round the corner of the hallway leading out of the rec centre, shirt stretched out maddeningly over his arms and chest, muscles bulging like he just came from the gym, still pumped. The shirt’s a little threadbare, something old and worn, and Johnny’s seen it a million and a half times he figures; it leaves so little to the imagination that he’s joked about Ghost busting it at the seams from time to time, only to be met with a steady, aloof stare. 

There’s something to be said about how he’s drawn to people who refuse to scratch him behind the ears until he’s more than proven himself. He works tirelessly for Ghost’s approval, for his girl’s approval. Dogs with their bones, tigers with their stripes. 

He has a balaclava pulled over his face, just a simple black one this time, the underside of his eyes darkened by eyeblack hastily scrubbed off the night before, probably. His eyes scan the crowd, locking on Johnny and Gaz almost instantly. It’s the mark of a good soldier—he doesn’t flounder in the dark. Always finds his target, like a sixth sense for knowing when he’s being watched. 

Ghost course-corrects upon noticing them, crossing the room in a handful of seconds. The curt, “Johnny,” he gets is a bounty, a treasure. He grins back when Ghost glances down at the girl at his side. “That your bird?” 

“Told ye I’d bring her in—s’long as everyone’s on their best behaviour, of course.”

Gaz snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Ghost must cock an eyebrow because he can see the fabric of his mask shift. “Pretty.”

He can’t help the way he preens at that. Tucked away by his side again, Johnny can feel his girl squirm, but he pays it no mind. She’s shy—he’s known that from day one, from the first time she stumbled out from the back of the flower shop and scrunched her nose up at his attempts at flirting. 

Admiration is a smooth, buttery feeling. It keeps him aloft while another couple of servicemen take interest in their conversation and come over, Johnny’s girl at the centre of everyone’s attention. He’d be pricklier about it if he didn’t have a firm hand on her waist, keeping her pressed to his side. 

He soaks up the attention. Drinks it up when someone asks his girl a question and Johnny answers for her or pinches her cheek when she manages to pipe up before him. He knows he’ll get read the riot act when he takes her back home later, but he might be able to convince her to ride him while berating him for talking over her. Might beg her to slap him and spit in his mouth—say it’s the only way he’ll learn his lesson.

Dirty dog.

It strikes him that maybe he’s picked up some bad habits in recent months. He’s never been one to overthink, to worry and fret. Yet, he toils in it now, shovels coals into the furnace of it and gives it life. 

His shoulders go slack, the tension finally ebbing out of him. No longer dogged by the incessant fear that his girl is going to run away, bolt at the first loud noise, or that someone’s going to pluck her up out of his arms. She seems comfortable if anything. 

He’s been overthinking all of this, wrapped up in his head. He can breathe out, unclench. 

When Ghost shifts to stand closer to them, he glances over because that’s where his gaze always goes these days. Seeking Ghost out, finding him in a crowd; looking for his North Star wherever he is, wherever he goes. 

Only to watch in mute horror as, in plain sight, not trying to be discreet or hide it from anyone, Ghost gropes his girlfriend’s ass in front of everyone on base. Just reaches out a big hand and fondles her ass, digging his fingers into the cheek. She freezes, back ramrod straight as she stares ahead, eyes going a bit blank. 

He fails whatever test this is, mouth too dry for any words to come out. Humiliation burns him from the inside out. Another sergeant that he’s worked with before frowns, glancing over at Johnny. Neither of them say a word. 

Ghost tilts his head, staring down at his hand on her ass like he’s contemplating its plushness. Admiring it. With how Johnny stands on one side and Ghost the other, the two of them bracket her, like the soft centre of their trio; nowhere for her to go, a handler on either side. That’s wrong though. Ghost is not her handler—Johnny hardly is, more of a self-appointed one. 

Still he—

He lets it happen.

Contention dies a bloody death in his mouth, massacred. Mangled. He lets Ghost sink his fingers into his girlfriend’s backside and hum a little under his breath before finally pulling his hand away. The others look at him, waiting for Johnny’s reaction with bated breath. A reaction that never comes because it gets strangled in Johnny’s throat. 

“Nice meeting the bird,” Ghost finally says, voice a decibel lower, rough enough to scrape. “Gaz and I’ve got shit to do now. Be ready on the tarmac by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow, Johnny.” 

He grips Johnny by the shoulder before heading off, like he didn’t just grope Johnny’s girlfriend. Like he didn’t just reach down and grab a handful of her ass like it was his to feel up. And Johnny just nods. A placid, docile thing under Ghost’s hand, bobbing his head like a doll. 

Then Ghost leaves, Gaz trailing after him, looking back about a half dozen times to see if Johnny will suddenly follow them until he’s forced to job to catch up to Ghost, the man already yards away, longer legs carrying him fast out of the building. 

They don’t talk on the drive back to her apartment, the inside of the car tense and uncertain. Johnny walks her to the door when he lets her off, but it’s a formality, a chaste kiss at the door instead of the rough fuck that he’d envisioned to send her off. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she doesn’t lambast him like Johnny expected. The silence is worse though, haunting when she shuts the door in his face. 

The drive back to base after the drop off is agonizing in a whole new way. Still pent up, cock heavy in his pants, and fingers drumming over the steering wheel twice as fast now. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? What he wants to do is turn around at the closest gap between both sides of the motorway and speed all the way back, knock on her door until his knuckles blister and bleed, until she opens the door and lets him in, lets Johnny push her to the floor in the entryway and spread her legs, welcoming him in. 

Until she lets him fit his fingers into the marks left behind by Ghost’s hand. 

Cold fire rising up off his bones, and then something hot. And wet. 

The next day at breakfast in the mess, one of the guys says something like, “If Ghost was into my girl, that’s the last you’d see of me and her,” and his mind goes blank and he goes over the table.

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[deadghosy]

How Slytherin boys react to sister! Reader dating:

Warning: boyfriend house not specific, google translated Italian, protective brothers & stalking

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

The Riddle Brothers

“WHAT??” Mattheo yells as Draco had told him that you were dating Someone. The thing was that you haven’t told him first.

Why didn’t you tell him..cause now he’s frowning and venting to the oldest riddle that’s reading a book.

“TOM! Our baby sister is dating someone, but she hasn’t said a single thing…I swear what if the guys bad..”

“We could easily kill him. So why worry brother?” Tom says looking up. But it was clear that Tom was mad that you haven’t told him. You always tell him things, so to the point you haven’t told him made him a “little” angry.

Mattheo and Tom looked at each other and nodded as they left the Slytherin common room.

You were walking with your boyfriend when all of a sudden you felt eye burning in the back of your head. You turn around and there you see only mattheo because of course Tom is invisible.

“Mattheo…why didnt you turn invisible when clearly she’s glaring at you.”

“Tom, stfu.”

Draco Malfoy

Ima make your boyfriend here as potter cause it’s definitely gonna be funny.

Straight up gets so dramatic to his knees, screaming for someone to kill him as he sees you dating his enemy. How could you betray him?! Your big brother is devastated

After dinner, he drags you to the common room and becomes a mother hen as he lectures you about how “terrible” pottah is.

“He’s a terrible person! And a Gryffindor. End of presentation…got any questions.” Draco says with a raised up brow

“Yeah, only one. Can I go to sleep now…”

Theodore Nott

IM SORRY BUT HE’S GONNA PULL OUT THE ITALIAN

“Mi stai spezzando il cuore qui sorellina... non puoi uscire finché non sono morto...” (you’re breaking my heart here lil sis you can’t date til I’m dead)

“ALLORA COME CAZZO USCIREI? SONO SOLO UN’ORA IN RITARDO DOPO DI TE?” (Then how the fuck would I date I’m only a hour late after you)

I feel like he would do the hand gesture, 🤌 yeahhhh…..

During the months he would try to give you the birds and the bees talk when you obviously know what it is, and you’re running away from him.

Of course he won’t stalk you, he’s too much of a good brother to do that to you. So you are lucky

But one word that your boyfriend is hurting you verbally, physically, or emotionally. He’s hurting him 10 times bad.

Lorenzo Berkshire

“I wanna meet him.”

“WHY YOU LOOKIN AT ME LIKE THAT?!.”

His soft face turned serious when you told him you’re dating someone. Because you thought Lorenzo would react happy for you.

He’s literally acting like a father as he has the boyfriend in front of him, wand in hand as his smile was tight. “So, I heard your dating my sister. Why?”

Pulls out the “why do you wanna date my daughter/sister” card😭😭

If the boyfriend passes, he’s welcome. If not, find a better boyfriend.

[eddiazx]

woody & buzz - evan buckley x reader

It's just a costume, it's just a costume.

Buck repeats the mantra in his head, as if repeating a fact would somehow make his boner disappear.

The two of you were at Hen and Karen's house, amongst other members of the 118, celebrating Halloween with just the adults since Harry and May decided to take the younger kids trick-or-treating. Buck had decided to make use of the cowboy hat he had from his ranch hand days, and dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. So naturally, you had to be Buzz Lightyear. Your costume was a one piece that was tight and showed a lot more skin than the astronaut did. Not that Buck was complaining, of course.

He may have survived just the tight material on your body, but you were also wearing extremely tall white boots. And Buck couldn't stop envisioning having you underneath him wearing the boots and nothing else.

Since Buck had a shift earlier today and you didn't, the two of you had decided to take separate cars to meet up at the Wilsons'. Buck is sure that if he had seen the costume earlier, the two of you would not have even left the apartment.

You make your way to Buck, who had been leaning behind the kitchen island, trying to hide his arousal from everyone.

"Here, babe," you say, as you thrust a red Solo cup of a mysterious-looking liquid at him. "I don't know what it is, but Karen said it would clear a sinus infection you didn't even know you had."

Buck chuckles, and accepts the cup. He shifts to the right and leans in close to give you a kiss that he hopes conveys thank you and hi, I've missed you, and oh crap, you can probably feel him poking you through his pants right now.

His suspicions are confirmed when you giggle, and quirk your eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I'm only human! Of course I'm going to be turned on when I see my girlfriend dressed like this!" Buck defends himself, waving his hands from your head to your feet.

You laugh louder, and say, "Wow, I can't believe you're dressed as Woody and sporting a woody. The jokes just write themselves."

Buck lets out a noise that's a cross between a groan and a laugh. He doesn't think his boner would quell anytime soon, not when you were next to him, smelling, looking, and sounding amazing.

Buck doesn't have to suffer for long though, because you're tugging on his arm, steering him towards the front door.

"Come on, I already told Hen we would be back later in the night. I have a cowboy to ride."

[trnsfrmtn111]

It wasn't the place nor the food that brought Daniel to the pristine climate of the Philippines, it was fate, magic, and a little bit of misfortune.

He had travelled solo to the country after watching the same vlog and travel videos on repeat while stuck in hid 9-to-5 job at the local gas station. He wanted a change of pace, and after a long 16 hour flight, he landed just a couple hours before sunset.

One thing though, it wasn't in Manila, it was in some random island that he couldn't even find on the maps. Someplace called "Kubo Island". He swore it was a scam when he found it on some sketchy website, but it was worth the money, he thought. Maybe some sort of islet that was barely visible.

As he walked around, he found barely any structures outside of the equally questionable airstrip, though he did notice a lot of armed personnel just dotted all across. Feeling a little embarrassed at being the cliché "lost American tourist", he walked a little further onto a dirt path. He hadn't really booked in advance, thinking he'd find some hotel or really just someplace to set his belongings and sleep hen he wasn't walking around.

Walking deeper into the woods, he stumbled on a clearing filled with some simple huts, and he could barely discern the sound of men grunting and marching off in the distance. "Did I just accidentally book myself into a fucking military base?" he said to himself in utter confusion and mild amusement. He figured this was the sort of thing he'd tell over Reddit and get a billion comments talking about how dumb he was.

"Hoy!" A sudden deep shouting terrupted his chuckles as he turned and became face-to-face with two soldiers, sweaty and huffing. "You lost?" They continued, in a distinct accent. Daniel just nodded, as the two giggled and beckoned him to follow them. He couldn't help but notice how oddly giggly the two were, and talking amidst themselves in whispered Filipino, but whatever.

After a bit of walking into some more dense brush, he caught sight of a long concrete house. The sky was starting to become darker as the light from inside illuminated the air. Unlocking the door, the two quickly shoved Daniel inside as they quickly shut the door behind them. He was more weirded out than anything, but figured they were just being rowdy towards the utter fool he may have made himself look.

Looking inside, he felt his face turn red from more embarrassment as he realized they just pushed him into a sort of barracks.

The air was musty and smelled of sweat and dirt, but at this point, he was too over it. He just wanted to set his things down and get a little bit of shut-eye from the jet lag. Who cares if he was a fool, he thought to himself as he dodged the stares of the other soldiers. In a small part of his mind, he thought perhaps they were just taking pity on him, letting him stay there before actually getting to the touristy areas. Hell, maybe he'd even get a little ride from them if he managed to be friendlier.

He soon found a small empty bunkbed way at the back, and settled in for a bit. As he laid there, another soldier, this time wearing sunglasses, approached him. In his hands was a small dark-brown vial with the label "Suwero Pansundalo".

"Drink." He said, tossing Daniel the vial. "For health. Weather here, very bad." Daniel removed the cork and took a whiff, it just smelled of a few herbs. After a few breaths, he downed the vial and felt the cooling sensation rush down his gullet. It felt nice. Too nice.

He eventually found himself start to drift off, as the man slowly approached him, the smell of his sweat sending Daniel's mind into a state of disarray.

"Sleep pare, tomorrow, you will be fresh." The lights turned off, as Daniel's mind slipped. Daniel woke up with some sort of dull pain all over his body. He'd woken up last among everyone, as the barracks were dead silent and dark. "Shoot." He thought to himself, mustering up enough strength to push himself off the bed. That's when it hit.

His heart pounded as his eyes almost froze in their tracks. His feet were different. Hell, even his clothes were different, replaced with some sort of uniform much like the rest of the other guys he'd seen so far. He hurriedly fondled the rest of his body, even fearing to look in the mirror. He felt he'd gotten much bigger. Fearfully looking down the rest of his arms, he'd found they'd taken on a shining copper-like hue, and he smelled quite funky too. His brain ran crazy. "Did I just-- did they just---" Mustering up enough courage to try and at least escape, he slowly walked towards the back door, hoping to not be seen. Taking a deep breath, he hurriedly hurdled through the back door. Big mistake. It led right next to another extension of the barracks. The men all paused as Daniel stood there frozen. Chuckles erupted into all out laughter as one of the men handed him his phone. Daniel took the phone with much hesitation before turning the screen around.

"You're one of us now! Sundalo ka na rin!" He exclaimed with a hint of schadenfreude as Daniel held onto the phone, his eyes frozen on the picture of his new body.

"Welcome to Kubo Island ser!"

************************************************************************

Danilo stared at the coffee mug as he stirred in the coffee grounds into the steaming hot water. It's been almost five years since that fateful day, and he'd lost all hope at even trying to escape. He'd been here for far too long, and had become a valuable member of the team. To be honest, did he really want to anyway?

He hadn't forgotten about his past life, but at this point he might as well have lived here his whole life. He got more and more used to speaking the local language, barking orders at the rest of his men, and often even enjoying his new life here. His bulge after all was quite an upgrade, stroking one off every few days or so. His new body has served him quite well, after all.

One of his comrades soon approached him, his phone in hand. They needed some new things to zhuzh up the website they designed, to help boost their numbers just a bit faster.

"Ser, ano gusto niyo sabihin sa camera?"

"Come to our island mga ser, you will enjoy it..."

[slut-for-henry-cavill]

Are my tumblr girlies breathing okay after seeing Hen in The ministry of ungentlemanly warfare trailer!?

Surely we weren't expecting that😭😂

Ps- Yes I too got light headed each time he stuck his tongue out. He's fucking wild in this and I'm here for it

Ps Ps- is it just me or that character seems like mix of Captain Syverson and Napolean Solo lol!?

CANT WAIT FOR TUMBLR TO GO WILD WITH THIS MAN'S FICS!!!!

@shellyshellshell @littlefreya @augustsprincess @mayloma

[pocketfullofsimshine]

[apparently-artless]

ONGOING ANIME EDITS REQUEST: OPEN

And so I decided that I will be lowkey accepting requests for ongoing anime for this season! (o^ ^o)

For the list of series, you can check this POST. You can also check the series on my pinned post under ONGOING ANIME EDITS.

I will also be adding the series below:

Akuyaku Reijou Level 99

7th Time Loop

Himesama "Goumon" no Jikan desu

Requests will be limited to:

Icons (indicate circular/square)

Character gifset per episode

Specific scenes in a certain episode (with/without dialogue)

I will be accepting requests from mutuals, followers, and non-followers. As per usual, anon requests will not be accepted. (ง ื▿ ื)ว

[credits to Remi (@/kithsune) for the dividers]

[anders-holmvik]

can we talk about 8x06 confessions because id love to talk about confessions...

buddie analysis in this ep is well worn territory for good reason bc it was nuts so TRUST i agree w all of it but i wanna talk about eddie solo

first of all lets compare eddie's relationship with religion to bobby's:

in s1, when things become awkward in the confessional between bobby and father brian, bobby suggests that they move out into the pews and sit in the open, and that's where he confides in the priest man-to-man, not man-to-servant of god. and this is because bobby understands his transgressions, how the fire was technically not his fault because the building wasn't up to code, but it was also his fault because it was caused by his core issues (his addiction). Bobby's relationship with god is unwavering and he knows that god forgives unconditionally, but he craves human connection as forgiveness which is why he brings the priest out of the anonymity of the confessional box and out into the open pews. notably, once he opens up to buck chimney and hen about his past, he finds himself a lot lighter and no longer seeks the church for guidance as much even tho he remains explicitly religious. this is pushed further when he and athena bond over church, but it is essentially this human connection beyond his uniform, his "disguise," that starts his healing journey.

eddie, on the other hand, does not seek to connect personally with the priest. when things get awkward in the booth, he doesn't try to connect w him as a man because eddie is looking to be absolved by god. in fact, he pushes harder for the priest to reaffirm god's disappointment in him. he's been spiraling and cycling for so long that he doesn't know where else to turn other than the church. but then he hears from the priest that god provides unconditional love, and eddie doesn't accept that, so he leaves.

no one else around him knows that he's punishing himself in genuinely every aspect of his life so they can't absolve him (which probably wouldn't even make him start to forgive himself because neither chris nor his parents have and he feels like he wronged them personally) so it isn't until the priest, coming upon him accidentally outside of the church, not in uniform but dressed in white (like an angel) opens up to him man-to-man over the seemingly small punishment of choosing water over juice. and the priest is the only one who can connect to eddie in this way because he's also a servant by occupation.

and it's low hanging analysis but the obvious reference to the story of jesus and turning water into wine is invoked here, which is also a metaphor in the bible about balancing work and joy in life.

so eddie is absolved, not through some godly sign, but just by the priest coming to him as another human because god already forgave him because that's what He does. but only because it came unplanned from a Godly figure at a location OUTSIDE THE CHURCH does it work. and he takes off his disguise. This is crazy work because eddie considers himself to not be superstitious or religious yet is the deepest believer in signs and punishments …

the other thing this ep does is that even outside of eddie's storyline, a lot of it is About Eddie. The well call, the divorce call, the cold open call about being "haunted" by a dead woman. The well and divorce calls were for chimney and buck's developments respectively, but they're directly tied to eddie.

the well being the well #obvi but the divorce call first styling the wife like shannon, then featuring the man who sneezed (little outbursts) after telling lies, which resulted in him rupturing his sutures and spilling out. it's a metaphor for repression. i said that as a joke over on twitter a few days before the ep aired but then it actually rang true.. he tried to hold it in and still get away with lying, but it caught up to him and now he metaphorically can't take the truth back because its spilled out. CRAZY WORK. chad and andrew we may need to have words

[cactusisconfused]

The artists of the 141 🎨🖼️

-

It’s well known to anyone who knows Soap that the man can draw. Of course not everyone sees his drawings, as most of them are hidden away in his personal journal.

But people see his small doodles on spare papers during meetings or during training. Some of the privates always try to laugh at Soap for it, they learn to shut up after a glaring threat from ghost’s eyes. (Or if Soap himself is feeling feisty, will set off demolitions maybe a bit too close to those hard headed fuckers).

Regardless, Soap had been deemed the artist of the 141 and was thought to be the only one.

That is until Ghost and Soap get together.

They’re on leave and for the first time, Soap is staying with Ghost in his apartment. Upon walking in, the place is very clearly kept clean but has bouts of charm that just scream Simon.

What Johnny wasn’t expecting though, was the amount of clay objects that sit in the building. There are a variety of pots, some small sculptures of animals, plants- what have you.

As Simon shows Johnny around the flat, he stresses that one room- the first one down the hall- is not to be opened nor entered. Soap of course agreed, even if his curiosity went up tenfold.

They go about their leave together and apart. Some days Johnny would go on his runs solo, or go explore the area just for the sake of getting fresh air. Other times they’ll both go somewhere together. Usually in the mornings they will go to a local coffee shop and get breakfast. Maybe go to a book store or play some board games at the flat.

What Johnny has noticed through his stay, is despite how much both are around each other- everyday without fail for at least for an hour, Simon disappears into the room barred off from Johnny.

Johnny, has admittedly tried to get sneak peaks the first few time Simon walks in and out of it. Unfortunately, Johnny always walks away with no more than he started with.

.

It’s towards the end of their leave, Johnny sits on the couch, drawing the painted pot that sits on the kitchen hen counter. It’s a quaint thing, painted with flowing blues of many hues, bringing life to an otherwise still thing.

He’s pulled from his musings though, when he hears the quiet squeak of the forbidden door open and the soft thuds on the floorboard as Simon steps out, dusting his hands off.

Their eyes meet, and Simon jerks his head slightly towards the room, gesturing for Johnny to come in.

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he lays his pencil down on the table along with his sketchbook. “Are ye sure?” He asks quietly.

Simon just nod’s silently and crosses his arms as he stands by the door frame. Johnny, while a bit startled by the sudden change in rules about the room, gets up from the couch and moves to follow Simon.

He was expecting…well Johnny really wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting a studio.

The room is fairly small, but each nook and cranny is filled with something. Be it tools or clay, or finished and unfinished sculptures. There are some pots, some wonky or chipped while busts stand proudly on a few displays.

The busts form the faces of people Johnny has never met, but had heard stories of from the sculptor himself. One is of a woman with a depressive but kind smile, another is of a man with similar features to Simon, though a bit younger, his look is self assured, but there’s wisdom in his eyes. There’s another woman, her eyes bright and her smile brighter. Right next to those two is of a young boy, with kind and innocent eyes.

Eventually Johnny’s eyes fall to the middle of the room where a sculpture of sorts is covered in a thin gray sheet.

“Simon this is…” Johnny finds himself with a lack of words, feeling like he just entered the most important museum that will ever exist.

In silence, Simon puts a gentle hand on Johnny’s shoulder and moves past him, standing next to the supposed new sculpture. Once Simon was sure he had Johnny’s attention, he pulled the sheet off revealing a statue of Johnny himself.

The bust is almost uncanny with how accurate it is. From each line of his Mohawk to the small scar that sits hidden on Johnny’s stubbled chin.

The artist within Johnny’s mind reels as he stares at the bust, absorbing every small detail. His lover part of him can only swoon. The sound of a deep rubbling voice breaks him out of his spell.

“Admittedly, it’s not all done. I had planned on doing more than just a bust, but I wasn’t able to get a clay order in on time and well…I had to make do.” Simon speaks softly, his eyes looking to the side rather than at Johnny. Shy, is the word that comes to Johnny’s mind. The Scot can only smile and move to cradle Simon’s face in his hands.

“It’s lovely Simon, thank you.” Johnny says with a soft kiss on Simon’s cheek just for good measure.

Never once had Johnny thought Simon to be a sculptor, yet he finds his lover wears it well.

If the next times that Johnny’s sketches end up becoming sculptures of fine clay made by place scarred hands, Johnny can only smile and kiss his Simon a thousand times more.

-

Something wholesome??? That’s crazy.

Anyway, sorry to the COD lot of you that come here for this stuff and not Ghost band stuff (I fear there will be lots more)- thank you for holding out while the ‘tism goes loco.

[gatitties]

Can we get a part 5 of the yandere platonic jjk series? It is one of the best yandere series I’ve read and I really hope you continue it! :)

The blank pages - Web of love

"The blank pages" are untold events in the parts of web of love, as well as some headcanons or small random scenarios.

─Yandere!Jujutsu Kaisen x fem!reader (Platonic)

─Summary: A little more about your life living with sorcerers and curses

─Warnings: stalking, obsession, toxic behaviors, yandere stuff

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

The blank pages: Part Two

well, I don't know when I will write (if I do) another part as long as the others, it's one of the "minifanfics" that takes me the most time to write, but I can always write some headcanons or small scenarios like this :p

─ You are so fond of sorcerers that your nickname for the vast majority of them is scumbag <3, especially for Gojo, when you don't call him a poorly felled birch.

─ Once you asked Sukuna if he had gone to class with Jesus Christ, he didn't kill you on the spot because you were so tired that you seemed drugged and he felt sorry.

─ You will never admit that among all the crazy people Itadori is your favorite.

─ When Gojo wants to scold you for something, you simply apply the technique of turning up the volume to the maximum on your headphones while you nod.

─ Refusing to speak sometimes only made everyone learn your non-verbal language.

─ With each passing day you don't care if you are devoured by a curse just so you can rest in peace.

─ You once went on a solo mission (some mysterious way it happened), they almost wrapped you up like a mummy when they saw you arrive with some bruises and cuts.

─ Megumi comes to your side when he sees you nod off during the day so you can lean on his shoulder and sleep.

─ Many times you would like to punch everyone but they don't even deserve that much attention from you.

─ On a random day of the week you will be dragged by Nobara to have a sleepover, you don't complain much because you do nothing and get gossip.

─ One day you went to the Zenin clan house with Maki and you thought that you grew old during the time you spent there, for once you were glad that Maki didn't leave your side.

─ You are afraid of talking too much with Utahime because you think that if you do she will end up just as obsessed as the others, you don't want to break that feeling of talking to someone other than your family.

─ You discovered that the sorcerers entered your room at night but you decided not to confront them for the moment.

─ If Choso wasn't so overprotective and mother hen, you wouldn't mind if he treated you like a little sister.

─ He begins to silently threaten all the people who may be a potential partner for you (he threatened a cashier who told you that you looked pretty one day).

─ If you are with the villains you will say that you are part of the sorcerers' team and that you will fight against them until you die, if you are with the sorcerers, you will say the same but on the opposite side so as not to give them the benefit of knowing your thoughts.

─ Despite everyone, you have the right to go on the weekends you want to visit your family, although sometimes they will put obstacles in place so that you are delayed and miss the train.

─ Those days are your days of peace, you even decide to help at your parents' restaurant even though it is a stressful day, the pressure makes you put your feet back on the ground.

─ You submitted a letter of resignation to the studies because you thought you were qualified enough to return to your parents now that you know how to control your powers, Yaga tore the paper to pieces after you left.

─ You hope you trip and break your neck during some training, it's a shame that Panda and Toge will rush towards you even if you only stumble slightly.

─ Everyone prefers to blame someone else but you, even if you openly say that you are guilty of something, they will do mental exercise to prevent you from being guilty.

─ Sukuna is fighting to get you to join his side, whatever the reason, you will be a key piece in the outcome.

─ Of course, they don't want to get violent with you, the threats and beatings go to other people, for you they have manipulation.

─ Which you clearly detect, but you decide to play along for the moment, without knowing that you are getting more entangled in the web.

─ They probably know that you are acting but they don't care because they are getting the attention they want from you.

─ The situation is like a snake biting its tail, and you hope that when that snake dies from suffocation by its own body, you are not there.