#when all ive ever asked

[aaaaaaaaraaaaaraaa]

Another day foaming at the mouth thinking about richard siken's Wishbone poem

[xiewho]

could i get a fabian pretty pls… possessed would be cool but anything with him is fine

based on that one fake bad kids twt thread that i Cannot find for the life of me

[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."

[shanklin]

Just saw the post about stan raising shermie in selfish shellfish and the addition of protective shermie and it made me think:

By the time the two are reunited with the other Pines shermie is likely around the age to have started school or close to. What about that thing kids do when they learn something new, be it a new fact or rule, they have to share and make sure everyone knows. I imagine that stan managed to get a motel for them at least a couple of times. You know what motels have? Public access tv -> little kid shows that teach little lessons and morals.

Little Shermie watching an episode of something on people pleasing and how that's not always a good thing. Looks at stan and the others goes "huh..." Shermie having a tantrum at these adults and stranger who looks like his big brother for how they're treating Stan. And shouting Sesame street like teaching at them. About how stan never puts himself first and always takes care of him.

I just had to share the mental image of a toddler quoting something like elmo and having a better understanding in that kid logic way

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Related to this post

Oh. That would be the CUTEST!

And what is Stan supposed to do against this? Argue back? He tries, but the toddler refuses to listen to reason.

“Nuh uh, Wrong wrong wrong! Elmo said so!”

“Look, Shermie. That’s only true for good little kids like you. I’m all grown up and you’re my responsibility so I have to think about you first, got it?”

“NO! Wrong!” Shermie throws his toast at Stan and refuses to eat unless Stan eats first.

If Stan wasn’t so frustrated with this whole development, he’d be proud of Shermies manipulation tactics.

Stan tries to ban Sesame Street after that but Shermie cries so much that he has to compromise. Shermie is only allowed to watch it together with Stan. 

And so they keep watching it all cuddled up under a blanket. And maybe there is a special episode dealing with child abuse/neglect in very simple terms and Stan just starts crying. It's hitting too close to home. 

The stupid muppets tell him that it’s not his fault and that he has to reach out to someone he trusts even if it's scary.

Stan hugs Shermie tightly from behind, who is too enraptured with the show to notice his quiet sob.

“Hey Sherm, did you know we have another brother?”

[puppppppppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[anotherpapercut]

does anyone else regret every single thing they've ever said or done or am I just cooked

[givemedamage]

ultimately!

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i have to say i love cherik canonical love/hate mpreg brain baby child... it's just so funny that chatles got angry and made A NEW PERSON OUT OF HIS AND ERIK'S POWERS JUST WTF MAN

btw is there a possiblity you will draw them...

big

bonus:

[lemongogo]

viktor prev 🤖

[solisitude]

guys. guys i just recreated the art heist, baby painting. wtf

[qoldenskies]

#sometimes i think about how small he must have looked by the end of CL and want to cry a little bit

Aren't their frames in no more birthdays that show this? /genq

DONT REMIND ME

[dailytraingirl]

when you cycled by

here began all my dreams

the saddest thing i’ve ever seen.

[al-luviec]

Morro design + a ton of notes.

[oifaaa]

PLASEEE OPEN COMMS PLEAASEE OPEN A KOFI OR SONWTHING LET ME GIVE U MY MONEY 😭😭😭

my friend I have a kofi it's linked below but I will also be opening up commissions later today once I build up the nerves I need to do it

[faaun]

said goodbye to him feeling weird!