#this is actually kind of ass sorry

[itslittlegiggle]

Sun-Kissed Skin

(Kirishima/Kaminari)

when you just want to show your boyfriend a cute thing you did at the beach, but it turns into a gigglefest

a/n: as per usual, sorry for not posting lol, here’s a Crumb

———

Class 1A had just returned from a very pleasant and much needed trip to the beach. After working so hard lately, especially in the midst of a sudden heat wave, Aizawa had decided that the students deserved a break - and a little fun.

Some of them swam or played volleyball, like Kirishima, while others relaxed in the sun or tanned, like Kaminari (although he was the only boy who decided to focus on getting a tan; he claimed only the sun’s “healing rays” could relax his body and mind after such an intense training period).

The couple didn’t see each other much during the day, even on the bus ride home; Kirishima sat with Bakugou, who was insistent Todoroki had cheated at volleyball, while Kaminari sat with Sero so they could chat about a video game they had both been playing recently.

Kirishima and Kaminari made it a point to spend some time together once the bus had arrived back to the dorm so they could unwind and talk to each other about their beach activities. When they got back they immediately went to Kirishima’s room, chatting excitedly.

“Man, that was fun. I wish we could go to the beach every week!” Kirishima exclaimed.

Kaminari nodded in agreement. “Me, too. I feel so sleepy now, but definitely refreshed. I guess sitting in the sun all day does that to you.” His eyes suddenly lit up.

“Oh yeah, I was going to show you something on the bus, but I forgot!” He dropped his bag on the floor, excited, and turned to Kirishima, who had taken a seat on the edge of his bed; he’d shower later.

“Look, look!” Kaminari exclaimed, lifting the hem of his shirt and pointing to his torso. “Look what I did!”

Kirishima leaned over to see what Kaminari was showing him. He could now see, starting from slightly above and going down onto the blond’s hipbone, the pale shape of a lightening bolt, contrasting nicely against the rest of Kaminari’s suntanned skin.

“Woah,” Kirishima breathed, smiling at the spot. “How’d you do that?”

“It was Mina’s idea! She wanted to make a little star out of sunscreen on her back so when she tanned, it would leave the shape. Then Ururaka wanted to do a heart on her leg, and Momo wanted to do a flower on her shoulder. I wanted to do one too, and Mina thought a lightening bolt would suit me. Cool, right?”

Kirishima grinned at his boyfriend, finding his excitement cute. “Very cool, and such a manly shape, too!” Almost without thinking, Kirishima reached out and pressed into the pale shape with his index finger.

Kaminari yipped, his body slightly shrinking into itself, and he let go of his shirt in order to slam his hands over his mouth. Both boys’ eyes went wide and Kaminari’s ears flushed a bright red. Kirishima’s eyebrows shot up with a grin. “Oh?” What was that?”

Kaminari only shook his head, eyes never leaving Kirishima’s face. It was like the smaller boy knew what was about to happen but was paralyzed in anticipation.

As soon as Kaminari’s body made the slightest movement indicating he was about to make a run for it, Kirishima lunged and grabbed him around the waist, cackling at Kaminari’s surprised squeal.

“Wait, no - wahait, put me down!”

“Put you down? Sounds good to me!”

Kirishima flopped onto his bed, Kaminari still in his arms, and quickly maneuvered his and Kaminari’s bodies so Kaminari was lying on his back with Kirishima kneeling between his legs.

Kaminari was already giggling, hands out in front of himself defensively and eyes squinted in mirth as he looked at Kirishima hovering over him. “Whyhyhy?”

Kirishima barked out a laugh.

“Why? Because it’s cute!”

Before Kaminari could giggle out any more protests, Kirishima grabbed both of his boyfriend’s hands in one of his own and pinned them to the blond’s own chest. His free hand hovered above Kaminari’s hip near the little lightening bolt shape, and he made a big show of flexing his thumb in the air directly above the hipbone. Kaminari was near hysterical, shaking his head and arching his back and giggling up a storm. “You don’t have to d-do this!”

“On the contrary,” Kirishima teased, “I think I do, especially since this lovely spot has been so nicely highlighted for me. This was obviously meant to be!”

He finally started tickling Kaminari for real, digging his thumb right into the concave area of the boy’s hipbone and kneading the sunscreened shape like dough. Kaminari let out a delicious scream that gave way to boyish belly laughter, head thrown back and legs kicking. “Oh nohoho!” He cried.

“Oh, yes!” Kirishima crowed, laughing along with his boyfriend as he writhed, trying so hard to dislodge Kirishima’s hand or roll away and failing miserably at both. A particularly well placed knead made Kaminari squeal at fever-pitch; small sparks zinged out of his fingertips, startling Kirishima, who couldn’t help but chuckle at his boyfriend; one of his most favourite things about making Kaminari laugh hard was the inevitable and unconscious discharge of his quirk, like the blond’s glee couldn’t simply be contained to his body and needed an escape route.

Kirishima lightened his touch a bit, still poking gently at the pale lightening bolt with his finger. He couldn’t stop giggling because Kaminari couldn’t stop giggling. He thought the two of them must have made quite a sight.

“Mean,” Kaminari whined, before hiccuping once and causing both boys to giggle harder. “So mean!”

Kirishima laughed brightly. “I could be meaner, if you wanted…”

Kirishima made a lobster claw with one of his hands and lightly placed it around one of Kaminari’s knees, not even tickling yet. Kaminari, of course, absolutely lost it, squealing and laughing even harder than he had been, even without actually being tickled there; knee tickles were a whole different level for him.

“Please, plehease, I’m tired!” He shrieked, a snort shooting from his nose. “L-later, okay? You can do it later, I promise!”

Kirishima burst out laughing at that, releasing Kaminari from his clutches and laying down next to him. “Fine, but only because you asked so politely.”

A pause.

“I really like your lightening bolt.”

Kaminari’s giggles died down and he turned on his side to look at Kirishima, eyes still shining with mirth.

“You should do something next time too! Maybe like… a rock, or something.

Kirishima laughed. “Wouldn’t that just be a circle?”

Kaminari laughed too. “Oh yeah, I guess. Maybe, like, the outline of a mountain range?”

“Yeah, that could work! Where?”

“Maybe your chest,” Kaminari offered, “or your back.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, we should do it on your ribcage. It’s only fair to me if we put it somewhere you’re ticklish.” To emphasize his point, he gave Kirishima a pinch to his ribs. The redhead yelped and grabbed his boyfriend’s offending hand.

“Careful, Kami. You wouldn’t want me to hold you to your… promise, before you’ve had a chance to rest, hm?”

Kaminari blushed so red he might as well have not worn any sunscreen at the beach.

[pastabaguette]

this is stupid. sorry

[tf2heritageposts]

okay i need some actual motivation so

30 notes i’ll clean up my bathroom

90 notes i’ll clean up my bedroom

120 notes i’ll clean up the other bedroom

150 notes i’ll clean up the kitchen

200 notes i’ll clean up the living room

no spam reblogging other wise it’ll restart

[heartorbit]

i would advise against sneaking a bunch of silly billies into your castle

[cometshift]

what if medhammer

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[daincrediblegg]

one of these days I will fully articulate an essay on the costume design in the terror (for crozier specifically because I have so many brainworms about it) but it is not this day

[showtimepast2500]

i can be reborn as someone meaningful with this reincarnation apple. 🍏

[buwheal]

BEACH OUTFIT 💥💥💥💥

He used to surf the web back in 98'.

[kelocitta]

The last thing I'll say, and I'm saying it because it applies broadly- is that there is very rarely a perfect victim OR evil mastermind and everyone needs to get better at recognizing and responding to that fact. Victims of legitimate crimes or horrible acts can be aggressive, or bitter, or biased or a dozen things that make them 'unappealing' to listen too. They can have willfully exposed themselves to content or been in circles they really shouldn't have. They could have been given warning signs that they missed or outright ignored. They might exaggerate or misremember their claims. That does not mean they are no longer victims. If you completely missed the red flags and were taken advantage of- you were still taken advantage of. If you exposed yourself to harmful content that was upsetting or distressing, you were ultimately still exposed to harmful content. Maybe it is "your fault" for being there, but you were still there and it still happened. Especially in terms of online, its just shockingly very easy to end up in places where you are in danger of harm- and its shockingly easy to not notice that you may have put yourself in that position until its too late. If you want to be supportive of victims, you need to recognize that very often victims did things that were inappropriate themselves, put themselves in harmful situations, didn't back out when they should have, missed "obvious" signs... and are still a victim in the end. Likewise, abuse ranges from the intentional to the neglectful. Sometimes an abuser can even do both at once. People do harmful things completely on accident- even repeatedly. It can be mental illness or stress, it can be a dozen things- but yes sometimes people have patterns of behavior that are harmful and destructive that they either aren't aware of, in denial of, or don't get how bad they are about it. That does not erase the harm those behaviors cause. If you handle a situation poorly, it could just be that you handled it poorly- you didn't think through your actions or their implications. But from the receiving end, it doesn't matter how accidental it was, its going to often read as intentional, or a pattern, or whatever. And ultimately the harm is still done regardless of what it was. There is a world of difference between harm done intentionally and harm done through stupidity, neglect, or plain old mistake- but it not always easy to identify which is which- and harm is still done in the end. Sometimes people are harmed because someone saw an opportunity to do so, and sometimes they're harmed because no one stopped to question if it was even a risk. Both of those still ultimately result in someone getting hurt. The point of this is that if you are ever going to analyze situations critically you can not be looking for just "the good one" and "the bad one". You can't just weigh initial impressions on a scale and hope one side tips further and call it a day. Believing victims doesn't mean you need to throw caution to the wind, but likewise bad actors or misinformation doesn't mean your reaction should be that there couldn't possibly be victims. Be very mindful of how you interact in situations where someone was potentially hurt. Being 'critical' can easily boil over into disregard for harm- both the harm the involved might have done to each other and the harm you yourself do in how you respond to it.

[feyburner]

My problem is I love cooking, cooking videos, and looking at hot women, but I straight up can’t stand the entire genre of TikTok/Instagram reel that’s like a visibly queer yet still very conventionally attractive girl making slack-jawed/edgy faces into the camera while she cooks baked gnocchi or whatever. Sorry it’s just not for me. If I can tell without looking that the entire comment section of your video is gonna be horny gen z/millennial cusp internet queers repeating the same 10 jokes and overusing the ✨ emoji I’m not about it. Maybe on paper I should love watching a hot girl silently chop cherry tomatoes without offering any additional information but guess what. I don’t. You didn’t even list the ingredients in the video.

[nanihirunkits]

hi.

[rapidhighway]

I can't believe people give advice that's basically "be less stressed". How can I explain to you that I've been scared of walking down the stairs since I learned to walk and I get an intrusive thought every time I cross a road. And then I have a lot more, actually real and important stuff to be anxious about!!

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

When I see stuff like this I kinda want to bash my head into a wall:

To start off, I’m not sure whether this person was commenting on book or show Cersei, but honestly, it doesn’t even matter because she’s so much more than the ‘ambitious villain’ or the ‘murderous girlboss’ tropes in both the book and show.

(Of course, I do have my issues with the way Cersei was written in the show like most people but this is simply a rant post so I’m not going to go through the differences of Show vs Book Cersei)

Cersei is a female character who was shaped by her environment, who’s insecurities were created by her environment, and she’s a woman who’s idiotic mistakes can be traced back to how her environment shaped her. She’s much more than a murderous girlboss, she’s both a victim of the system and also a beneficiary of it, while also acting as an agent of it to keep the status quo while also desiring what the system denied her.

Cersei is NUANCED and complicated and even now people hate that about her and want her to have been a purely evil woman handcrafted in a vacuum, ignoring the context of her life because readers would rather not engage with Cersei’s victimhood and nuances because that ruins their idea of: She Was The Problem and Always The Problem. (People would rather say that she deserved her walk of shame instead of interacting meaningfully with the theme of systematic gender-based violence that is so prevalent in Cersei’s story. The exploration of patriarchal violence in Show Alicent’s story is done so horribly in comparison.)

And what really pissed me off about these tags is that this person has clearly decided that they don’t care to interact with the nuance of Cersei and are fine with flattening her, and yet they shit on others for not liking Alicent.

Because of the way Alicent is written in this show, she almost always has a ‘woe is me I can do no wrong’ attitude, which of course drives people away from the character (woe is me I deserve to take a child’s eye 🥺). However, what actually annoys me is how she’s made out to be stupid, foolish, ignorant, and inconsistent due to the horrible writing of this show, all of which are deviations from her book characterization. Also, I despise it when people want me to support writing decisions and changes made in adaptations that are downright misogynistic and are meant to attract the male gaze.

But what pisses many people, including myself, off is how the changes made negatively impacted many other characters. Alicent’s terrible characterization is like a black hole that distorts and warps the whole story! It’s annoying af!

So when people like this say: ‘She’s nuanced and people just can’t handle it 🙄;’ I say: No. She’s horribly written and a different character from the book and people have a right to be critical about these changes that stripped a female character of 1) her agency and 2) her intelligence!

And the thing is, there was little reason for the writers to have made all these changes to Alicent’s characterization! In the book she is an interesting character with clear motives and understandable reactions. She’s cunning and ambitious and acts the way a noble lady who became queen would. And despite her clear ambitions and dislike of Rhaenyra, she still makes a comment wondering about who would protect the Princess from Ser Criston, and yet she then takes Cole into her service after his falling out with Rhaenyra. That’s a perfect example of nuance! Show Alicent could never compare to book Alicent’s clear moral values and consistent disregard of said moral values in pursuit of power.

And because of this, Book Alicent isn’t easy to stomach. It’s hard for most people to come to terms with a character like her and it’s even harder for people to feel sympathetic for her at the end when she went mad with grief.

On the other hand, Show Alicent was designed in a way to garner pity, and when the writers felt like her current arc wouldn’t be enough to garner the specific reaction they wanted they would then throw in a time skip and suddenly she’s completely different and yet still Thee victim. She’s designed to be as sympathetic as fucking possible! The camera angles, the background music, and the lighting is set up in a way to make sure you the viewer feels pity or sympathy for her! Cause that’s her role in this series! She’s thee Ultimate Victim!

But too bad for the writers as many people are fed up with this kind of inconsistent writing. Even when the writers created a whole new challenge for Alicent where she’s shitted on by the green council and forced to face the beast she helped to raise, I and many others could never feel any satisfaction as it was clear that once again Alicent was being made to be Thee Ultimate Victim who was just led astray by the patriarchy and was a victim of it and was only just realizing it so don’t you pity her don’t you feel sad for her and now she’s trying to do the right thing so pls pls pls pity her 🥺~ So it shouldn’t be surprising that many people are annoyed by these eNLiGhtEnEd changes that have led to a complete deviation from the source material.

To summarize: Cersei is an excellent fucking character who’s by no means easy to stomach, and because she’s not easy to stomach she’s often reduced to annoying ass tropes by dumbasses who are reading above their comprehension level. But when you actually try to understand her, you can easily see why she turned out the way she did and you can feel sympathy for her while understanding that she’s both victim and perpetrator! On the other hand, Show Alicent is a mess and HOTD is trying to make her serve a different narrative role than she did in the books so ofc people are going to be unhappy with the changes as book readers are once again faced with the annoying reality that the writers don’t give a fuck about the source material.

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x reader

You die.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

TW: DEATH, heavy angst, gore, blood, kind of disturbing, a bomb explodes, derealisation/disassociation, graphic, I'll be so honest this fic is kind of fucked up

Lmk if I should add any more specific warnings!

If you're sensitive to violence and dark themes, you probably shouldn't read this.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

This mission had gone terribly awry. 

It was only meant to be a routine checkup. The IPC was planning on allocating resources from this planet, something the locals had not been pleased about. Aventurine understood. He would not be particularly happy to have his planet drained of all that made it worthwhile either. (He had not been happy. But all things considered, he thought he was being generous. Nobody was being directly killed, the IPC merely wanted a cut of the many materials the planet offered. The Avgins on Sigonia had all been very intentionally exterminated. He was not doing that to these people.)

Still, he couldn’t afford to take risks, hence the many IPC assigned bodyguards he had brought along. Deals like this, where the clients were undeniably on the losing end, were bound to go wrong in one way or another. Often violently so. 

He just had not expected the bombs. He had not expected the mass amounts of guns. The people were more capable and vengeful than he had assumed, then. Ultimately, it was his own fault.

Most of his goons were dead. Most of the government officials were dead too. It made sense they’d want to go out in such a loud and proud way. A declaration to their people they wouldn’t lay flat before the otherworldly corporation that had come to essentially take away what made their planet their home. Bold to be ready to kill so many of their own, but he could respect it. 

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be very angry. It was fair, all things considered. He’d had this long coming; being killed by the people whose lives he was ruining. In their positions, he’d love to kill him, too. The only issue was that this hadn’t happened under normal circumstances. 

No, you were with him. You’d been just a bit away from him when they opened fire, when they set off the bomb. 

It was so stupid. It was so, so unbelievably stupid that he’d let you come with. It was your job, yes, but he should have reassigned you to some other mission. Something safer. Something that didn’t involve visiting planets to drain them of all their worth. Something that didn’t bring about rage from the clients. 

He could see you. He’d been saved from the brunt of the impact, and his luck had once again protected him from serious harm. He had only been slightly grazed by a bullet, had only been slightly burned by the heat of the explosion. Nothing serious. Nothing he couldn’t walk off within a week or two. You had not been so lucky. 

Your arm was outstretched over your head, body lying limply on the floor. Missing the other arm. There was only a gaping, red hole where it had once been attached to your body, a little bit of bone sticking out of the gory mess. The blown off hand with your engagement ring lay close enough to him that he could touch it. Maybe intertwine his fingers with it for the last time. The pinky was missing.  

He pushed himself onto his feet on unsteady legs. He could barely feel his own body at all. One glance down at it told him he’d been right in his initial assumption, though. No parts of him were missing. He was intact. 

He stumbled over to where you lay, your expression calm, almost peaceful. No pained pinch between your brows, no worried frown on your lips. Were you unconscious, or were you dead? Though he knew it was unlikely you’d leave this place alive either way, he hoped desperately for the former. 

He fell to his knees next to you. Something was buzzing beneath his skin. Something was buzzing in his vision. Had the world always been so blurry? Had there always been such a loud noise ringing in his ears? His hands trembled as he carefully reached out, a hand tenderly cupping your cheek. Your face was red, slightly burnt in places. Your hair was singed. You felt hot to the touch. 

No, not hot. Warm. Warm as in alive. He couldn’t hear you breathing, but warmth meant life. Warmth meant life. You were alive, surely.

He brushed his thumb under your eye. Tried to find something to say, but he found his mouth refused to open. Carefully, so carefully, he shifted you onto his lap. He stared at the dust from all the debris that had settled onto you. He couldn’t breathe. 

(He thought back to a time when the dust had been sand. He thought back to the red that had painted the ground then as it did now. He thought back to another body he had pulled closer, with hands much smaller and weaker than the ones he had now. He thought back to the taste of salt as tears fell in an endless stream from his eyes to cover his face and hers.)

He moved his free hand to your neck, gently pressing a finger to where he knew he was supposed to find your pulse. It wasn’t there, but only because he wasn’t searching hard enough. He carefully felt around, and though he couldn’t find it, he knew it was still there. He just didn’t dare press down hard enough to find it. The same applied when he felt your wrist. He was just bad at finding things today. 

(He stupidly hadn’t found a good enough reason to put you out of this mission. He stupidly hadn’t found anything that happened before the explosion suspicious enough to leave early. He stupidly hadn’t found his way next to you quickly  enough to save your life.)

When his hand landed on your chest, absent of a heartbeat, tears started falling from his eyes. But why was that? You weren’t dead. In fact, the longer he looked at you, the more sure he became this couldn’t be you. Your skin wasn’t this hot. Your arms were both still attached. You did not have fresh burns covering your face. Most importantly, you were alive. Alive and well and happy and safe from this little mishap. He had misremembered, you had stayed home during this mission. The hand he’d been so sure belonged to you had been someone else’s, he’d merely mistaken the ring for yours. It was such a bland ring, after all. He’d have to buy you a new, much prettier one once he came home to you, and apologise for his oversight in giving you such a boring design. 

He ignored the repeated whispers of ‘not again, not again’ going through his head. Nothing was happening ‘again’. This was not Sigonia. This was not a person he loved, or even knew. He couldn’t understand why his body curled over the stranger’s, sobs wracking his frame as he pulled them close, soft apologies tumbling from his mouth. He nuzzled his face into your- their hair, hand carefully cradling the back of their head as the other supported their back. 

The body smelled like you. The body felt too similar to yours in his arms. The body had your face, even if your features were a little damaged. The longer he stared, the more he could feel his gut sinking. So he shut his eyes and reminded himself that there was no possible way this was you. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t. The universe would not be that cruel to him, would it?

Then again, maybe he had deserved this. If it was real. He was not a good man. He had not come to this planet with good intentions. Losing the thing most precious to him, the only thing precious to him, after taking away so much from so many others was a befitting punishment. 

But you hadn’t deserved this. Wouldn’t have, if it was real. You were so kind and generous and perfect and lovely, so different from him, so different from the position your job wanted you to be. You didn’t deserve to die. 

Die. Dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. 

You were dead. 

(Aventurine had seen so much death in his life. He should have been used to it by now. He was used to it. He had just forgotten how much it hurt when it is someone he loves.)

He held you tighter. If he held you tightly enough, could it piece you back together? If he held you tightly enough, could he replace the parts of you that were missing with his own? The sobs that escaped his lungs were violent, and quickly, some morphing into gagging. He felt sick. He had to turn himself away from you briefly to throw up, not wanting to soil what was left of you further, before he desperately held you again. Would it be the last time he held you?

Maybe if he took you back to the ship quickly enough, something of you could be salvaged. Maybe he couldn’t piece you back together, but he could find someone who would. There had to be something he could do. This couldn’t be it. He couldn’t lose like this again. 

He could barely stand. His body was already weak and your added dead weight made it even harder to balance. He picked up the parts of you strewn about on the ground he could quickly spot. Your hand, your shoulder, what he thought might be your bicep. He couldn’t find your forearm and he didn’t have time to properly search for it. Maybe someone could put all of you back together? Maybe you’d be whole again. He wanted you to be whole again. 

(He couldn’t save his people. He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t save his sister.)

(But things had to be different now, surely. He was a different person now. He had power, he had wealth, he had everything. What would it all be good for, if he couldn’t save you?)

Other IPC personnel met him outside the building as he stumbled out, and Aventurine’s mind was so hazy he couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening. He was pretty sure his own, now dead, workers had sent a distress signal. People rushed in to find anyone else from the wreckage. After, Aventurine found out he was the sole survivor. (He always was.)

(You had not survived.)

He demanded you be taken into surgery. That the medical staff on board had to get you to breathe again. For some reason, they had been hesitant. He threatened to have them fired or killed if they didn’t get to it. He set you as first priority, putting the best doctors they had on hand to work on you. 

They sewed you back together as best as possible at his insistence. They got your heart pumping blood again, they hooked you up to machines and forced your lungs to breathe. The surgery lasted for four hours.

It did not change the flatline on the screen signalling your brain activity. 

He could find the best doctors in the whole galaxy, but he already knew the line would remain flat. Nothing was bringing that back.

He stared at you for hours after your surgery. Interlaced his fingers with yours, feeling the artificial warmth of your hand. It did not feel like you. The temperature was wrong. The look on your face was wrong. Your body was wrong. Everything about what remained of you was wrong. 

He eventually laid his head on your chest, and then he cried.

He cried until the black spots in his vision grew so numerous he could no longer see, until everything faded and he could no longer hear the beeping and humming of the machines keeping you hollowly alive. 

(Why did he ever let himself love again?)

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Sorry that was messy I wrote everything today because I am con-crunching tomorrow and won't be available for like at least 3 days after this (usually I write over the span of multiple days so I can re-read for grammatical/spelling errors and so my language will be a little more varied + I get fresh ideas). Sorry this fic was ?? kind of messed up ??? I think ??? I think my perception of what's messed up and not is kind of weird (I grew up on warrior cats HELP.) so to me it didn't feel that fucked up to write about Aventurine literally picking up your body parts after you died but I've realised upon mentally summarising that part of the fic that maybe that was kinda horrific. Just a glimpse into my twisted mind heh 😈.... sorry

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[dismas-n-dismay]

Yuurivoice Twt <3