#pls if u knew

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

Yall: being famous and rich is amazing

These bitches:

[inchidentalmeowmeow]

Babies 🥹

Max and Charles knowing each other since they were literal tater tots (5 according to Max) is blowing up on twitter again, so friendly reminder that these two both had a spiderman phase growing up as well ❤️💙

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[zarnzarn]

y'all think Penelope pulled a "if it weren't for the baby" peeta mallark style on everyone present there to marry odysseus or

[rebouks]

The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.

Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.

Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.

As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own. Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.

Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!

Previous // Next

[thatdeadaquarius]

Your writing is so amazing! 😲

You mentioned that you like people sharing blurbs so I thought I’d share one!

In Sagau I imagined the statues of the creator to have an aura around it. Like it changes depending on their mood. so sometimes people will visit the statues to feel closer to the creator or to talk to the statue. It would be customary to visit the statues when one is really happy to share their happiness with the creator. Which would cause little bursts of happiness within the creators everyday life.

I just thought it was a sweet headcanon to share! I hope you have a good day!

AHH this got buried in my asks :'(

GOD UR SO SWEET IM SO SORRY I DIDNT SEE THIS FUCK ME-

This gif is what it feels like when ppl send me little snippets or blurbs fr:

Just 😭😭😫😫😫🤲💌💌💝❤️‍🔥💖💔💕💗💝💘💓💞💗✨️

Thank you so saying that about my writing 🥺<333

this is actualy the best headcanon, i love worldbuilding stuff like this, like reader having statues/how ppl treat them/emotive statues like?? genius??

idk if yall are into the ship, but the worldbuilding in this zhongli/childe fic goes so hard, and this kinda reminded me of how the author descibed genuine/"filling" offerings to the gods being like, less of a business transaction and more of a, "i got so happy seeing all the flowers i handmade a flower crown just to share it with you!" and THATS what you give a god to give them a satisfying meal

EDIT 4/10/24: SORRY I FORGOT TO PUT FIC NAME AND LINK HERE YA GO <3

anyone that being all said i like to take ur headcanon in that way, where ppl make a song or something w/lots of emotion (usually positive) and send it ur way as an offering <3

THANK U AND SORRY AGAIN FOR NEVER REPLYING,

Safe Travels Pebbles,

💀♒

TINY POST BUT PLS FEAST UR EYES UPON THEIR CUTE HEADCANON BELOVEDS <33

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

[flowerquib]

GUYS MY ART WAS FEATURED IN THE QSMP MUSEUM OH MY GOD????

I- 🥹🥹🥹🥹

POMME AND RICHARLYSON <333

[lilacjunimo]

saw someone on twitter imply that one king of queens promo photo would be tech and phee and so now we have this

[pup-pee]

harpoon shipping doodle :3

w/some hcs! cause UH ofc there r!!!! uhhhh also theyre supposed 2 b like tweens in this dont ask how or where theyre hanging out ok? yay <3

IF U DONT LIKE THE SHIP PLS JUST DONT INTERACT LIKE PLS JUST DONT B WEIRD ok love u

[makedonsgriva]

THESE FUCKING WONTONS ARE GOING TO KILL ME

[the-witch-of-woods-beyond]

actually kills me every time i start losing my mind over a ship only to find out they have no fans and i can’t binge read incredible fan fictions or metas on them for days on end.

[yutamayo]

Is what it says on the label.

[adriancatrin]

i don’t remember which but there’s some iconic fic in our fandom that used the word ‘auspicious’ in a double-speak kinda way and now no one here knows what that word means IM SORRY i just have to say it. if something is auspicious it means it’s GOOD. an auspicious thing is the opposite of suspicious. it gives a POSITIVE outlook

[tuituipupu]

respectfully, i am not doing that traffic tiktok dance but damn do they look fine, styling on point, this is camp.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Oscar: He’ll open up eventually. Ivan: I wouldn’t bet on it, he’s worse than you. Oscar: He’s okay though, right? Ivan: It’s hard t’tell, it kinda seems like he’s just goin’ through the motions sometimes-.. he’s been workin’ a lot. I dunno what t’say anymore, it’s like pullin’ fuckin’ teeth. [Byrd’s gaze immediately snapped to Oscar, making a prolonged “ffff” sound with a wicked grin] Oscar: Do not. Byrd: Fuck. Oscar: Hey! What’d I say? Byrd: Fuuu-.. Wren: I’ll tell him off! [Wren swiftly yanked Byrd off his feet and body slammed him onto the slippery tiles, laughing hysterically] Oscar: WREN! [Wren faltered upon hearing the voice-.. and judging by Byrd’s pained squeal, tiles weren’t as soft as carpet, whoops] Ivan: My bad, dude… Oscar: Nah, they’ll use any excuse to swear-.. which is naughty. Ivan: Inevitable. [Oscar grumbled.. probably, but there was a limit, and the twins had been obsessed with profanity recently] Oscar: Well.. that wasn’t very nice, was it? Wren: Sorry, Birdie. Oscar: You better be-.. and quit it with the swearing, mister.

[darlingod]

With the least amount of respect possible, Locke was so funny sometimes. He was so shameless and it was so entertaining. He will not be missed but his lines (and character) will for sure be laughed at by me