wisteruias
𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥
47 posts
Latest Posts by wisteruias
"Can I have anyone I want? In that case... There's an idiot in Blue Lock I want to team up with".
Ackermans once were created to protect the king and acted as the monarchy's right hand, entrusted with the survival of their people.
Were the ones that saved the rest of humanity in the world
I need to illustrate the ridiculousness of my current situation for everyone: it’s barely ten am. I am wearing a pink dress (it’s actually one of my favourites) and a pink apron and yellow gloves and am currently blaring Lana Del Rey and fisting an ice-cold coke as I reevaluate the life choices that have brought me to this point. I need a hard drink. I need to hire someone else to do this. I need barbiturates. Lana would probably approve of everything that’s happening right now.
☆ Blade: Death Approaches ☆
"nii-chan... is really amazing..."
"i wanna be strong and cool... just like him..."
coloring by me!
icon set by @its-so-lukewarm
✧ Xiao: Endless Suffering ✧
— Sorry, tonight I just want to rest. Hehe, very nice. It's good to take the mask off once in a while... even just for one night.
venti & xiao ♡ short trailer: endless suffering
omg i finally had the opportunity to read this fic and it’s so !!! cute, rewarding, yummy, and fuuuuuuck i love shouta so much. thank you so much for this — i am head over heels for your writing.
Title: The best I Can
Aizawa x General Studies Teacher!Reader
This was written for @wisteruias part of the teahouse servers christmas gift exchange. I hope you enjoy!!!!
Synopsis: You get worried whenever Shouta is away, and he's away often. Luckily he's here to make it up to you.
Warnings/tags: Smut. Fluff. A bit of angst. Reader is described as having a female body, grinding, fingering, vaginal sex. First time writing Aizawa so maybe a little ooc.
Wc: 3.1k
18- reader DNI!!!!!
General education U.A is still so fucking stressful. For both the kids and yourself.
Of course, nowhere near as stressful as the hero course, or support course, but the bags under your eyes are near as dark and heavy as those that work there.
You're still dealing with children high off their own ego, having been accepted into U.A. Super powered children, either bitter with dreams crushed or still hoping. It's not your job to comfort them. You only teach Government and history, things most children are usually not interested in, and telling children stories of old revolutions and government topplings doesn't do much to help them. The opposite really. You exacerbate their fantasy dreams.
You can mull over this at two or three in the morning, when you're still grading tests with your laptop on near full brightness, so you don't fall asleep. You could think that you want the best for these kids while you're on your fourth cup of coffee. You mark a test with its final grade, a 56.
You will look out the window and wonder where your lover is, whether he is still out on the streets or wandering over to his place to grade papers, an hour or two of sleep before he wanders back to the school. Maybe he'd forgo his place and just head back to his classroom, just to do it all again, a perpetual cycle. He doesn't rest often enough, you think. He helps too many people.
You wish you were a hero. You wish you could help him. Your kids. You wished you felt like you were doing something more worthwhile with your time.
You tell yourself you should focus on yourself. Your heart pounds anyway.
—
Shouta has come back home today.
Shouta is in your apartment, your home, and you are so glad he is here. You just wish he could have come a little sooner.
Shouta had left for an undercover mission about ten or so days ago, and today is when he comes home to you. The mission lasted a week. You know because Hizashi texted you.
You know he immediately came back and set to work on too many things. It's why he only comes home to you now.
You wish he could have come here earlier. Maybe you could have drawn him a bath, prepared something good for him to eat.
But he's home. It's fine. It's fine.
You're still fresh from the shower, hair dripping a little. You are watching him as he works in the kitchen, and there is a strange ache sitting in your chest. You want to go over and take the spoon from him, tell him to go rest. You know that he won't let you.
One of your cats, Oreo (naturally black and white), slinks over and butts her head at his leg, pawing at him with a meow. He smiles down at her, sweet, warm, adoring. The ache deepens.
So you just edge closer, into the warm heat of him, slinking your arms around his waist. He rubs an arm up and down your arm, and you sigh into the knobs of his spine. He shivers, just a little.
As he leaves the pot to simmer he turns in your hold, laying a palm large and flat against the dip in your spine.
"Dinner'll be done soon." You nod, burrow into his shoulder. His hand creeps to your nape, and you want to pur, like one of your cats. Oreo winds between your legs.
"You hungry?" His fingers trace shapes into your skin, rough by calluses, and you nod again.
"Yes Shouta."
"Good." The low timber of his voice rumbles through you, but before you can do anything about it, he disentangles himself from you, plants a kiss on your brow. He leaves for the bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water pouring.
You take a breath in the sudden aching.
He doesn't come to bed with you later, not at the same time at least. He opens up his laptop, and starts grading tests, from what you can see.
He did the dishes, made sure you brushed your teeth, rubbed lotion into your skin and tucked you into bed. He takes such good care of you. You sigh into the sheets and watch him as he works at your desk. It is late by the time you've had enough.
You stand, and move behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
"It's late, you know."
"Yeah. We should be sleeping."
"You should be sleeping. I have work to finish."
"You always have work to do. Come to bed with me. I miss you." He lets you lean your weight into him, buoys it all.
"Can't. Drank too much coffee. Won't be able to sleep."
"Then we won't sleep." He smiles, a step in the right direction.
"Did you miss me?"
"Yes, I did. Make it up to me. Now." You pout, and you yelp when he suddenly pulls you, and you're in his arms.
He presses a wet smack of a kiss to your cheek, then the other, then your forehead, and you giggle and snort, half heartedly mushing him away. You don't really want him away from you.
His stubble tickles as he kisses, and he moves lower, down to your lips, your jaw, that one spot in your neck that always makes you kick your feet. His hands tickle your sides, and you laugh harder.
You grin while he takes his time, more nibbling now than anything, and you creep your hands into his hair. You grab, and tug him closer, and his teeth bite down a little hard, a warning. You jolt. You feel it in your throat when he groans.
He maneuvers you, hands under your ass so you're in his lap, work forgotten. You feel him bloom against you like a bud in spring and rock your hips against him. He groans again.
You keep doing that, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that rhythm that'll get you both off. He encourages it, pushes you back and forth and you shiver when he leans in, grazes his teeth against your neck.
It really has been long. Before long you're soaked through your little panties, and if you keep going you're going to leave a wet stain on Shouta's sweats. He doesn't seem to mind though, he just moves with you, pulling you in when your hips stutter.
You come, with a whimper, arching your back into Shouta's hold, knowing he'd hold you steady. When you've climbed down from your peak, he's grinning at you.
"That was fast." Your flush deepens, and you mush his shoulder.
"Shut up. It's been a while."
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to neglect you kitten." His stomach pats over your lower tummy, still quivering. You clench on nothing.
"Just make it up to me then" He picks you up, moves to the bed. You bury your face in his neck and breathe, wrap your arms around him.
Like this, there's not much room to get rid of your clothing. You only separate long enough to get them off and out of the way, and his lips are on yours and you could feel his fingers at your entrance.
He slips in slow, his fingers thick and already setting a steady pace. You're still not over your last orgasm, so you whimper his name between kisses, gasp when he hits that one spot.
"It's okay baby, I know. I got you." He stretches you open, gathers your slick and presses quick little circles to your clit. He does this few more times, feeling you twitch, before his fingers leave you, shushing you when you whine. The hot, heavy weight of him prods at you, and you lift your hips, eager, slipping the first few inches inside. He moves with you, bottoms out with a couple strokes.
Neither of you move. You close your eyes and try not to writhe, savoring the feel of him, the heat, the way he's twitching inside. His hands find your waist, your hips, smoothing over the soft parts of you, possessive and adoring all at once. You love the rough feel of his hands, large and warm, all over you. His hands move to your breasts, and when he squeezes them you moan, press up into him.
You missed this.
You grin, and open your eyes, hazy with lust and affection. His throat bobs. He's looking at you like you're all he's ever wanted.
"You can move now, Shouta." His eyes, you'd never get tired of looking at them. Shouta slips out and pushes in in one slow, fluid movement. You nod.
And he moves. Again, and again and again. The thick curve of him filling you and pressing into every spot that has you shuddering and clenching. All the while he's staring at you, not bothering to hide his groans or the gasps of your name.
It's not long before he's pounding against that spot, that has your toes curling and legs shaking. When he sees you having trouble with keeping your legs on his hips, he grabs your thighs and pulls them higher, angles his hips in a way that has you mewling.
"You're gonna cum again?" You nod frantically, grab his shoulders. You know you're going to leave marks.
"That's my girl." He purrs, and you melt.
He snakes a hand between your bodies, finds your puffy clit and pinches it. He grins when you bite your lip and pinches again, rubbing it tortuously. You're so wet by now that you hear the sound of Shouta pounding into you, the wet clicks of his fingers against you.
"You can come now. Cum on my cock baby."
And you do. When you come again he stills, squeezing his eyes shut as you squeeze and flutter around him. He throws his head back, hands squeezing your hips, and it just makes you squeeze tighter.
You've hardly gotten over your high when he's moving again, deep and rough, hips slapping against yours and echoing in the room.
"Good girl. You can give me another, can't you? Just one more princess, one more, give it to me." He's close, you can feel the way he throbs inside, the way his chest stutters above you. You give it to him.
Just as you open your mouth to cry out he slants his mouth over yours, swallowing your cries. He licks the inside of your mouth as his hips lose rhythm, fucking into you until he finally stills. You feel his sticky warmth spill inside you, and you moan, rubbing your leg against his inner thigh, cupping his shoulders, his arms, wherever you could reach.
The drop is soon, but the mood is still mellow when he pulls away, kisses your neck, your jaw, your cheek. You giggle when his stubble rubs against you. He smiles against your skin.
There are wipes in the dresser by your bed, and he wipes himself off, picks his sweats off the floor and puts them back on. Then he picks you up and takes you to the bathroom, draws a bath for you while you pee. You are limp and soft as he dips you inside the water. The temperature is just right and you look up to him in delight, tug his arms to join you.
But he shakes his head, grabs your luffa and lathers it in your body wash, takes your hand and starts washing you. His fingers massage your sore limbs, and you move where he guides you, just glad to have his hands on you, in this way too. His hands were made to hold things, you think. How lucky you are to be one of them.
He sits you on the edge of the tub, dries you off with one of your big fluffy towels, and carries you off to bed. He picks out one of his shirts to slip on you, and you burrow into the collar, the sheets when he tugs you in. You're tired enough to sleep now.
But not yet. Again, you tug his arm, try to pull him closer.
"Go to sleep with me."
"I can't, too much coffee, remember?" You crack an eye open, unimpressed, and the half smile fades from his face. He sighs.
"I really do have a lot of work love. I have to finish it, as soon as possible."
"Right now? But it's so late."
"I know, I know. I'll be here soon, but I have to finish this." You don't remember what he was doing, schoolwork or hero work or perhaps something to do with the police, but you know it's important. So you nod, let him go.
"Okay Shouta." He must see the look on your face or something, because he kisses your forehead hard, smooths back your hair.
"I'll make it up to you."
"It's okay, Shouta."
"I'm sorry princess. "
"Don't be Shouta," you murmur, "Don't be."
______
Morning comes, honeyed and slow. You bless every God there is that it's a weekend, a freeday-and that Shouta is next to you.
Oreo and Muffin (orange tabby) and Calico (calico) are snuggled by your sides, warming your feet. But you're looking at Shouta, who is still here.
The scar under his eye. His eye bags. Messy stubble. His creases, born from stress. If you move a few key locks of hair you'll find greys. He looks so worn. Like everything that he's done and everything that has been done to him is carved.
His fingers usually have pen ink, from notes and tests. He always carries apples. He always wears whatever perfume midnight spritzs on him. He has a tiny scar from a pin Hizashi gave him that jabbed him once.
You wonder if there's any of you there.
And there is. His crows feet, from that crescent smile he gives you. Your hairtie in his hair. Your marks in the open valley of his chest. Even the sunlight glinting through the peaks of your blinds; the moment is colored golden and it is yours and yours alone.
"Go back to sleep." He mumbles. He doesn't open his eyes but you smile.
"I will. Just enjoying the moment." He grumbles, wraps an arm around your middle and drags you into his warmth, and you don't fight.
"I'll get up and make somethin' to eat in a minute."
"Dont worry about it. We can sleep in."
"You need to eat."
"Then you can't have coffee. You're going to drink yourself into a caffeine overdose."
"Nah." He nuzzles closer.
"We can sleep in, and then you can finish work."
"Fuck work."
"Oh?" Your eyebrows raise.
"It's just a report. You said we can sleep in. So I'll submit it when we get up. The work is already done."
"What about the kids?"
"I'm not their dad." he shuffles, nearly squishing calico, and sighs. You're grinning.
"You say that, but we both know you're running whenever something goes wrong."
"And you don't? Don't think I didn't hear about how your whole class got spooked over a spider, and made you kill it. Yueii students, right?"
"They're still kids." Your kids. "They're allowed to be scared."
"Are you scared?" You open your eyes fully. You're fully awake now, and you're close enough to breathe Shouta in.
"Sometimes."
"Of what?"
"...Of lots of things."
"Tell me." It's not a demand. He's just asking you, just wants to know. That's what makes you open your mouth.
"...That you're not always going to be here. That even when you're with me you're not all here and I can't make you. I'm scared for the kids. Because if we're fucking up this badly how can we make sure they do better?" You laugh, but your eyes sting.
"We'll teach them not to make the same mistakes we do. We teach them the best we can, and let them figure out the rest. We all just do the best we can."
"What if our best isn't enough? You're always giving your best, two hundred ten percent. Plus ultra. You give so much of yourself and you're still ragged. There's still so much to do. My kids…My class, they're still so young. I don't want them to end up…."
"Like me."
"No. Like me. Always wishing and wanting to help but hardly contributing. Hardy able to hold onto anything. I don't want that for them, Shouta. I don't want them to be like me."
Shouta shoots up, and suddenly he's over you. His hair creates a curtain and all you can see is him.
"I love you." He says. Rightfully. Truthfully.
"I love that I can always come back home to you. I love that you want to take care of me but let me take care of you instead because you know that's what makes me feel good. It takes some time but I always come back, don't I?" He presses closer. You nod.
"Then I'll keep coming back, so that you don't have to worry. We keep teaching these kids. We guide them. We figure shit out. When my best is not enough I have you. Who gets me decaf because you're worried for my caffeine levels?"
"Me."
"Who brings the papers the few times I forget them at the printer?"
"Me."
"Who refills my jelly packs and cleans my sleeping bag and helps grades tests, including their own, when I'm practically dropping dead from exhaustion?"
"Me."
"So don't downplay yourself. When our best isn't enough we have each other. When that's not enough we got Kayama and Hizashi. And when the time's right we got the kids."
"Not now though."
"Not now though. They're allowed to be scared. We're allowed to be scared."
"Are you scared of anything?" He sighs, and flops back down next to you.
"Of course I am. I'm scared these kids will turn my hair fully gray before I'm forty. I'm scared on every mission something might go wrong. I'm scared here kids are gonna get themselves hurt or killed. I'm scared that one day, you might decide to leave."
Now it's your turn to sit up.
"I would never. I love you too, you know."
"I know. I still worry though. I'm still scared. I try to fight it."
"How?" Shouta just looks at you. Like this the light is a little bright now, but you're shielding it from him. Your cats are still purring peacefully, and the sheets are warm. You think you should get started on some coffee. You think you still have coffee creamer.
Shouta sighs, rolls onto his back and smiles. It's ineof those soft, wide ones that pull on the scar under his eye, rare and infinitely precious.
"Take care of you. Love you. The best I can."
there’s something precious upon stumbling upon different interpretations of your favorite character.
the way each individual writer weaves their own flair and quirks into the way they portray them? it becomes an endless cycle of falling in love with that character all over again—because thats what it is fundamentally.
you learn to love them all over again through the lens of different perspectives, and maybe you even discover new dimensions to them that you never considered—or even imagined—how it could blossom into.
wisteruias 9:17 AM ❱
rules / byf — masterlist — taglist
| twenty-two ; she/her pronouns |
minors do not interact
k. bakugou 4:08 AM ❱
ever since then — i know what i need
pairing: k. bakugou x f!ab reader
release date: early december 2022
my parents would be very disappointed on me if they knew that my mental stability depends on a fictional character...
As much as I love parental Aizawa I want reluctant Dadzawa. I want Aizawa to be perfectly convinced that he would do the same for any other students and that he’s not attached at all. When he takes Midoriya aside during class because he’s on the verge of a panic attack? Just being a good teacher. When he slips Todoroki his address and number incase he ever needs a place to say? Just being a good teacher. When he moves his grading into the common area because Bakugo couldn’t sleep and the shadows in his room began to look more and more like members of the LOA and Aizawa doesn’t want to leave him alone? Just being a good teacher.
And no matter what the other teachers say about how this class is different he simply refuses to believe that
Yuuji after Shibuya.
red - rage
green - guilt
sometimes i really say to myself, i could post my vision, and let the world run with it. let it flourish— or crash and burn…whichever way fate took it, but i always seem to circle back to simply wanting to perfect it.
but alas, here i am throwing a snippet of my metaphorical baby out of the nest:
Dread.
There’s nothing like the suffocating sensation of utter terror that occupies all available space in the body. It morphs into indiscernible shapes like a ghost, almost as if to perfectly mold into her shape—depriving it of the very oxygen it needs to function. A heavy coldness claws through the center of the chest and up through the throat with a vengeance. The crippling temperature sends rattles to her bones and casts ice to melt into the fire of her blood. It renders her skin trembling to the touch, where fields of goosebumps cover her as a last line of defense against the invisible force.
It burns.
The panic only grows when every inhale is faltered by the crushing pressure against her ribcage, like a snake curling around her frame, squeezing her chest with an indescribable tightness. Every breath, whether delivered in a greedy heave or pathetic and shallow gasp, intensifies the feeling of hollowness within her. The chilling oxygen is not comparable with the sensation of the heart itself throbbing unnaturally against her ribcage. Ghost-like fingers pierce into the muscle, and send constricted pumps of blood to race fervently from it. The blood flows in her veins with heat only known to hell itself, a black—unfathomable degree of flame that feels almost freezing to the touch.
It burns.
There’s nothing like the unshakable tremble that accompanies it. Muscles and nerves twitching almost against her will, as they shift constantly between the desire to fight or flight. The movement isn’t nearly as bad as the shame that fills her mind. It easily drowns out any other emotion, and for a brief moment—
Hitomi wishes she could forget it—forget the way the dread pours into her. The way the dread causes everything else to dull into meaningless static.
If only the dread came with a warning or a precursor of sorts. Maybe, just maybe then, would she be more prepared to face it.
Until then, she would allow it to consume her—praying that one day it would just take her out of her misery instead.
he is so pretty !! :(
Hitoshi Shinso ✨🔮
So you’re telling me i can’t spend my life holed up in my room watching my comfort shows, reading on ao3 and sleeping ??
the most fun thing about being a fic author is when you know what’s supposed to happen but when you go to write it you realise that, for the event to be plausible, you need to add another 2k of development and establish like six extra things before you can even get to the scene you need to write, and by ‘most fun’ I mean fuck everything someone take this fucking story away from me I’m on strike
— THEME 066 : LILAC.
♡ features:
uncontained, personal theme. 3 sidebar options: ( sidebar, icon, png ) optional sidebar symbol ( +18 icon options ) different font + font size options. visible source link. best viewed on chrome.
♡ info:
by clicking the source link u’ll find the theme’s preview, sizes & links to get the code. if there’s any issue with the code please send me an im to help u with it. this is a FREE THEME.
♡ terms of use:
please don’t remove the credit. this is not a base code. do not take parts of the code without my permission. do not buy / use if i have u blocked. do not repost.
♡ credits:
awesome icons. honeybee icons. google fonts.
completed colored panel: hitoshi shinso !
this was my first ever full out coloring of a bnha panel and honestly to this day i’m still obsessed with it 🥺
i can’t wait to share the rest of my coloring adventures one day
this !!! because why does making something that makes you happy or fills you with a sense of serenity have to be monetized :(( it takes away from the joy in my opinion
“you should do something with your art 🥺” “do you sell your writing?” NO,,, u don’t understand, i dont do this for money i do this because it makes me happy. why is that not enough?? i do other things i hate for money—i do things i like and want to improve at for happy!!!!!!!!!!!!
katsuki bakugo ✧ 勝己 爆豪
happy birthday Nethmi! @mizurei
thumbs up!
My new and previous arts of Hawks in fashion
https://kadeart.bigcartel.com/product/bnha-hawks-fashion-zine
xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao xiao
he’s so fine for what
pls come home.
shall all xiao wanters be xiao havers.
amen.
Yknow, when you keep insisting that adults can’t enjoy fandom or play video games or what cartoons or whatever, it’s other young people that you’re hurting the most. Because the most you’ll do to adults is offend or annoy them with that nonsense, but when you plant that idea in a kid’s head, they grow older with the horrible dread looming over them that the things that bring them happiness and comfort have an expiration date. When I was a young adult, I was genuinely depressed about the thought of getting older because I thought I couldn’t keep enjoying all my hobbies, like I had to give up everything I enjoy once I reach [x] age.
And that is simply not true. It’s bullshit. But the harm is does to people is very real. Kids are so afraid of getting older, and one of the big fears is that their life will become painfully bland and boring once they hit adulthood, as if all adults do is work and pay taxes, possibly raise kids. No more fun, no whimsy, no playfulness, no joy.
Anyway, I’m 33 and I love video games and fanfiction and cartoons. If you tell me I’m too old for that stuff, I’ll roll my eyes and block you and go on with my day. But I will worry about the 17 year old who saw your post too and feels a sinking in their chest at the thought that they have to give up the stuff that makes them happy. THAT’S what bothers me.
Im obsessed w/ this image
Sakusa
Hes so pretty help.
Commissions open
I be like "omg, i have so much to do" and then go lay down