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» MHA characters & their fits 🌱

✏️ feat.— izuku midoriya, eijirou kirishima, katsuki bakugou, shouto todoroki.

✏️ a/n.— thought i’d try something a bit different this time lol. should i do more? i’m gnna do more lol.

📎 Izuku Midoriya 🌱

— classic soft boy look. likes wearing looser clothing for comfort. soft, neutral, earthy tones are his fav, with the occasional pop of yellow since it works well with his green hair. button down shirts are his fav.

• • •

📎 Katsuki Bakugou 🌱

— retro streetstyle vibes. takes a lot of inspo from artists like tyler the creator and asap rocky. knows how to mix and match patterns, textures and colors and makes them look good. this man knows how to dress and he proves it every time with his fits.

• • •

📎 Shouto Todoroki 🌱

— classy and minimalistic. he’s got money and he’s gonna prove it to you through his fits. only buys items that are neutral colored or black. he swears on turtlenecks. all about that rich boy style.

• • •

📎 Eijirou Kirishima 🌱

— streetstyle meets athleisure. his style is really similar to bakugou’s, the main thing putting them apart being basketball shorts. definitely not afraid to play around with bold colors. really, he loves the ‘i just finished balling but i still look good.’ type of style.

• • •

LEVI 🔈 ACKERMAN🔈 IS🔈 NOT🔈 A🔈SEX🔈OBJECT🔈❗️❗️❗️

HELLO I AM APPLES AND I AM AN ARTIST!!

I've always had this acc for a long time but I have now decided to turn it into an art acc. I make art for fandoms like:

Genshin Impact

Corpse Husband/Amigops

Various animes that I can't name from the top of my head

I also draw my ocs and sonas, which is shown down below.

[Apples, Abby and Andrius]

I hope I can grow and meet more people here. I've always loved tumblr and the communities here. Hope we can all be friends :))

- Apples

One of the few joys left in our current dystopia is watching billionaires ruin their own fucking lives on the internet.

Loki transforms himself into a snake and waits for his next victim to approach. Peter enters the room.

Peter: Awe look at the little snek. So smooth, so wiggly, so good.

Loki/Snake: *sticks out tongue*

Peter: Yep, this is one great snek. 10 out of 10 would boop his snoop. *reaches out and lightly pokes snake on the nose* Boop!

Loki/Snake: *blink*

Peter: Well I gotta go patrol. Bye bye smol snek!

Peter leaves the area. Loki transforms back as Thor enters the room

Thor: What happened to proving you feel no attachment to the Spider child?

Loki: His levels of innocence and purity has cracked my stone cold heart. I cannot explain it any other way.

The ghost I left behind

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Note: I wrote this with Sunshine & Rain.. By Kali Uchis, feel free to enjoy this with that on repeat to really feel it burn. Also please somebody give me HD gifs asap. Also if you hadn't read the preview yet, I recommend it!

Word count: 4,7k

Preview

--

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an ugly green tinge over the already-drab walls of the 23rd Precinct. Y/N pushed the door open with her elbow, hands full—one holding a stack of wrinkled flyers with Bob’s photo on them, the other clutching the hem of her coat closed.

The front desk officer didn’t even look up.

The bell above the door had long since stopped ringing for her.

She shuffled to the counter. She was wearing the same hoodie she always wore—his hoodie, oversized and faintly smelling of old laundry detergent and smoke. Her stomach was just beginning to curve outward, subtle but undeniable beneath the fabric. Four months.

“Hey, Ms. Y/L/N,” the desk sergeant mumbled without meeting her eyes. “You’re back.”

She placed the flyers down with quiet urgency. “I printed new ones. Better quality. I added a note about the reward this time, in case someone’s seen him.”

The sergeant sighed, his pen clinking on the desk as he leaned back.

“I told you last time. No new leads.”

“I’m not asking for a miracle,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just—please check if anything came in since last week. A tip. A sighting. A… a body, no, not that, but anything really.”

A uniformed officer behind the counter—young, smug, cruel in that casual way people are when they forget you’re human—snorted. “Lady, you know the guy was a junkie, right? Odds are he got tired of playing house and ran off when the stick turned pink.”

Y/N’s heart splintered. Her hands clenched the flyers. “Don’t—don’t you dare say that about him.”

He shrugged. “C’mon. You don’t have to be a detective to figure it out. He got high and vanished. People like that don’t come back. Especially not to play Daddy.”

“He’s not like that!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

The room went quiet.

A throat cleared gently behind her.

“Y/N?” came the familiar rasp of Officer Cooper, stepping out from a side hallway. Silver-haired and weathered, he’d been on the force longer than most of the others had been alive. He always spoke softly, like he didn’t want to scare away whatever kindness he still believed in.

Y/N blinked back tears and turned.

“Let’s take a walk,” Cooper said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”

--

Outside, the sky was overcast. Cold. Cooper lit a cigarette but didn’t offer her one.

They stood in silence next to the station’s rusted bench. She stared down at the pavement, at her frayed shoelaces, at the grey world around her.

Then she broke.

“I can’t sleep, Mr. Cooper,” she whispered, voice small. “I dream about him every night. I wake up thinking maybe he’s home, maybe I missed a call. But then it’s just me. Just me and this baby. I don’t know what I’m doing—I don’t have money, I don’t have family. He was my family.”

Cooper nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

“I know you’ve been kind,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve listened. But I need more. I need you to put more people on this. I need you to look for him like he’s not just some addict you all gave up on.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve. Her tears soaked through it instantly.

“Please. Just… just try. For me. For him. For our child. Bobby wouldn’t leave me. Not like this. Not without a word. Not him.”

Cooper took a long drag from his cigarette. Then sighed.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She froze.

His eyes softened, like he wished he could lie. Like he hated what he was about to do.

“We finally traced a lead. Someone matching Bob’s description was seen boarding a flight out of the country.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“Where?”

“Malaysia,” he said quietly.

The word hit her like a sledgehammer.

“No,” she whispered. “That’s… no, he wouldn’t… He didn’t have money. He didn’t have a passport.”

“He did,” Cooper said, sadly. “We checked. It was valid. Bought the ticket in cash. No forwarding contact. No signs of foul play.”

She staggered back, her body suddenly too heavy. Her hand flew to her belly as if to anchor herself.

“So… you’re saying he left me.”

“I’m saying,” Cooper murmured, “that we don’t believe he vanished. We believe he made a choice.”

“No,” she choked. “No, he didn’t. He loved me. We were building a life. He called me his miracle. We were deciding on a name. He cried when I told him. He held me all night and said he’d never leave.”

Cooper looked down at his shoes.

“I know, kid.”

Tears streamed down her face now, silent and relentless.

“I waited. Every day, I waited,” she sobbed. “I believed in him. I still do. He’s sick, not a monster. You’re telling me he abandoned his child before the baby was even born?”

Cooper said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Finally, she whispered, “Is he coming back ? Did he buy two tickets? He did, right, to come back to me, to us?”

Cooper crushed the cigarette beneath his boot.

“One way ticket. Maybe it's better if u go home, take a breath, and just... you can call me, ok ? I have a daughter just like you and she's an amzing mother, you will be too. You have to go to work, just rest.”

She just looked at the flyers in her hand. For months he just disappear, all her money spent in paper, organizing searches, paying potential dealers for a tip of his whereabouts.

"So this is it?"

--

2 years ago

The Cluckin’ Bucket wasn’t exactly a place dreams were made of.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a swarm of angry flies, flickering over cracked linoleum tiles and chipped yellow walls. The scent of fried oil hung in the air like a second skin, clinging to every surface. It was 11:43 PM, just seventeen minutes before closing, and the only two souls left inside were Y/N, wiping down tables, and Bob, in the back room, peeling off the heavy, foam-rubber chicken costume that had been slowly cooking him alive for eight hours.

He winced as he pulled the beak off his head, his sweat-damp hair sticking up in odd places. His T-shirt clung to his back, his jeans sagged slightly on his hips, and his bones ached in that weird, chemically induced way that only came from a cocktail of meth and shame.

He hadn’t wanted this job.

He sure as hell hadn’t wanted the chicken suit.

But here he was—twenty-something, barely scraping by, dancing on a street corner in 95-degree heat to try and convince people to buy discount wings.

He tucked the suit away in its plastic bag, sighing, and padded into the dining area, rubbing the back of his neck.

And then he saw her.

Y/N.

The new waitress.

She was crouched in front of the soda machine, elbow-deep in the syrup line, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, earbuds dangling from her neck. She was humming something—Fleetwood Mac, he thought—but he couldn’t be sure.

She wore her name tag crooked on her chest, and there was a smudge of sauce on her cheek.

But to him? She looked like she belonged in a painting.

He froze for a second too long, just staring.

God, she was pretty. And he was in a chicken suit just minutes ago. And probably still smelled like sweat and fryer grease. Cool. Real smooth.

She glanced up—and caught him.

Her eyebrows rose a little. Her mouth quirked.

“Robert, right?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was warm, amused, like she already knew the answer.

His throat caught. “Uh. Yeah. Bob, actually.”

“Bob,” she repeated, like she was trying it on. “Can you help me with something?”

“Sure,” he said too quickly.

She straightened, gesturing toward a box at her feet. “I’m trying to get this up to the top shelf, but it’s heavier than it looks and my arms are, like, noodles right now.”

He nodded and stepped forward, kneeling to lift the box without much effort. He was wiry, but stronger than he looked. She watched him, subtly biting the corner of her lip.

“Thanks,” she said as he set the box down on the shelf. “You’re stronger than you look.”

He gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, well… spinning a giant arrow for eight hours a day builds muscles, I guess.”

She smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short. That costume? Kinda iconic.”

He turned bright red. “Oh, God.”

“What?” she teased. “I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag. “I mean, it takes a certain kind of confidence to dance in a chicken suit and not die of embarrassment.”

He snorted. “More like a lack of options.”

There was a pause—just a second too long.

“Still,” she said, voice softer now, “You’ve got a good smile, Bob.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I said, you’ve got a good smile.”

He swallowed, heart hammering for no reason he could explain. She was looking at him. Not through him. Not with pity. Just… seeing him. And it had been a long time since someone had done that.

They started talking more after that.

Little things. Jokes during their shifts. Late-night scraps of conversation while wiping down counters or restocking sauces. She’d bring him a free soda when she noticed him flagging. He’d sweep her section when her feet were too tired to move. Neither of them said it out loud, but it became something—a rhythm, a comfort.

He never told her about the drugs.

But she saw the shadows under his eyes. The way his hands shook sometimes. The way he chewed his inner cheek when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t ask, and he was grateful.

Until that one night.

They were walking out together. The parking lot was empty, bathed in yellow streetlight. The air was thick with humidity. Bob carried his bag over his shoulder, still fidgeting with the zipper.

Y/N was quiet beside him, arms crossed over her chest.

They reached the edge of the lot. Her car was parked beneath the flickering sign.

He stopped. She didn’t.

Then, she turned back.

“Hey,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He blinked. “Uh. No. Why?”

She smiled—and it knocked the air out of him.

“Just wondering,” she said, stepping a little closer. “Because if you don’t… I was wondering when you were going to ask me out.”

He stared at her, stunned.

“I—I mean—I didn’t think you’d—why would you—” he stammered.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Bob. I like you.”

He swallowed. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Even with the chicken suit.”

And then, because his body moved before his fear could stop him, he smiled—wide and real.

“I… would really like that.”

“Good,” she said, walking backwards toward her car, grinning. “Then don’t keep me waiting.”

He stood in the parking lot long after she drove away, heart pounding, a dumb grin on his face.

For the first time in years, the night didn’t feel so heavy.

--

Central Park in the early evening was dipped in gold.

The last fingers of sunlight threaded through the leaves like warm lace, casting dappled shadows on the grass. It was one of those rare New York days—cool but not cold, the air kissed with early autumn, the sky a watercolor blend of lavender and peach.

Bob stood awkwardly near a bench beneath a sycamore tree, tugging at the hem of his second-best flannel. His fingers twitched in his jacket pocket, where he kept the meth pipe he hadn’t touched in two days.

He was sweating.

Not from the weather.

From her.

Because Y/N was there, spreading out a gingham blanket on the grass near the edge of a pond, her hair tucked behind her ears, a small cooler bag next to her feet.

She looked like someone who belonged in the light.

He still wasn’t convinced he deserved to be sitting beside her in it.

“Okay,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from the blanket. “Don’t laugh. I made too much.”

Bob walked over slowly, hands in his pockets, watching as she pulled out a series of plastic containers and neatly wrapped foil packets. Sandwiches. Potato salad. Tiny cupcakes with blue frosting that had clearly been made with care. Even folded napkins.

“Holy crap,” he said, blinking. “Did you raid a deli or something?”

She grinned. “No, I made it. I… I like cooking.”

“For me?”

She looked at him like it was obvious. “Yeah. Who else would I be trying to impress, Bob?”

He knelt on the blanket, legs crossed, still a little stiff, watching her with barely restrained disbelief. “I just… I’ve never had anyone… you know. Do something like this. For me.”

She shrugged, setting a container between them. “Well, now you have.”

He picked up a sandwich, still stunned. “You made all this… for a guy who dresses like a poultry mascot?”

She chuckled. “I happen to like that guy.”

Bob opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He just smiled—a shy, crooked thing—and took a bite.

Bob sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, chewing slowly, trying not to look too shocked by how good the sandwich in his hand was. “Okay,” he said between bites, “you’re going to have to explain to me how you made this taste like something from an actual restaurant. What’s in this?”

Y/N grinned, tucking a napkin under her leg to keep it from blowing away. “Nothing fancy. Chicken, basil, a little Dijon, homemade aioli—”

“H-homemade? Who even makes aioli? That’s, like, elite-level cooking.”

“I like cooking,” she said simply, with a shrug. “It calms me down. Helps me feel like I’ve got control over something, you know?”

He nodded slowly, finishing the last of the sandwich. “Yeah, I get that. It’s like spinning that dumb arrow—kinda zen, if you ignore the back pain.”

She laughed. “That’s tragic. I cook to relax, and you give yourself arthritis.”

“Hey, I’m not proud.”

She passed him a small container of fruit salad, their knees brushing slightly under the blanket. There was a breeze picking up, threading through the grass, fluttering the corners of the gingham cloth. In the distance, a dog barked, and somewhere near the pond a violinist had started playing faintly.

“You live with roommates? Alone?” Bob asked suddenly, trying to picture what her place might look like. “Your kitchen’s probably better than mine. Mine’s got, like, one working burner and a fridge that sounds like it’s dying.”

She hesitated, then looked down at her hands. “Actually… I live alone now.”

His brows lifted slightly, sensing the shift in her voice.

“I didn’t always,” she continued. “My ex boyfriend and I used to live together, in this little apartment off Bedford. It was cramped, noisy, walls were paper-thin… but it was kind of cozy. It felt like ours.”

Bob stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“He left about nine months ago,” she said. “For someone else. Someone with shinier hair and a ‘real’ job, probably. I don’t know. One day he said he didn’t love me anymore, and that was that.”

Bob’s chest tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She waved a hand, but her smile was tinged with something older than the moment. “It sucked. But if he hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have taken the job at Cluckin’ Bucket. Wouldn’t have ended up on night shifts. Wouldn’t have met you.”

He blinked, thrown. “That’s… wow. You really think that’s a good trade?”

She shrugged again, but this time with a little smile. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Bob looked down at the cupcakes, the homemade food, the folded napkins. All for him.

He cleared his throat. “I just don’t get it. How someone could be with you and let you slip through their fingers. That guy had the f—freaking lottery ticket and he just… walked away?”

She glanced at him, visibly surprised by the fire in his voice.

“I mean it,” Bob said, quieter now. “If it were me… I’d never let you go.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and tender.

She looked at him for a long time, something soft and wounded behind her eyes.

“You’re sweet, Bob,” she said quietly.

“I’m not,” he replied without thinking. “Not really. But I want to be.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else, but instead she reached for another sandwich.

They sat in silence again, this time heavier.

Then Bob spoke, his voice rough.

“I don’t have anyone either,” he said. “No family. No ties. Just a bunch of mistakes and a backpack that smells like old socks.”

She looked at him. “No one at all?”

He shrugged. “Not since my mom passed. My dad was… not really in the picture. I’ve kinda just been floating since then.”

“Me too,” she said. “It’s like… we’re both ghosts in a city full of people who have somewhere to be.”

That hit him harder than he expected.

He nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I always thought,” he murmured, “that maybe I was just built to be alone. Like I was meant to burn out early. Some people are just… too messed up to fit.”

She leaned toward him, brushing a thumb gently against his hand.

“You’re not messed up,” she whispered. “You’re just… lost. And that’s not the same thing.”

His heart nearly stopped.

“You’re the first person who’s ever said that,” he admitted.

“Then everyone else was wrong.”

He didn’t know what came over him then—maybe it was the sunset or the food or the warmth of her fingers against his—but he turned toward her, and for once, he didn’t feel ashamed.

“Can I… see you again?” he asked.

Her eyes crinkled with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

--

present day

The apartment was still.

Still in the way a place only gets after someone is gone—not just physically, but really gone. Like the soul of the place had followed them out the door and taken all the warmth with it.

The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds, casting long stripes across the bed where Y/N lay curled on her side. Their bed. His side still had the indent of his body, even after months. She hadn’t brought herself to sleep on it, like maybe the dip in the mattress could hold his shape long enough for him to come back and fill it.

Her hand cradled the curve of her growing belly. Just past four months. She was showing now. Her body knew, even if the world didn’t care.

Across from her on the nightstand were the pictures—cheap Polaroids and one dog-eared photo booth strip from Coney Island, taped crookedly to the wall. Bob’s stupid half-smile grinned back at her in every frame. The one where he was pretending to flex with a corndog in hand. The one where he looked away, caught off-guard, cheeks red from laughing at something she said.

Her thumb brushed the edge of the picture. Her throat burned.

“God, Bobby…” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

A fresh wave of tears pressed from behind her eyes and spilled freely down her cheek, soaking into the pillow. She clutched the blanket tighter with one hand and her belly with the other.

“You left,” she murmured. “You really left.”

She bit her lip so hard it nearly split, the ache in her chest unbearable.

“I defended you. I told them you’d never run. I called every hospital, every shelter. Put up posters with your face in every goddamn corner of this city. I begged the police to keep looking because I knew something was wrong. I thought maybe you were in trouble, or hurt… or…”

Her voice broke, raw and low.

“Turns out you were just gone. Just—just done.”

She sat up slowly, wiping her face with the sleeve of Bob’s old hoodie—still too big on her, still faintly smelling like him, like cologne and smoke and something warmer.

“You saved up that money. You actually planned this,” she whispered, hollow. “You looked me in the eye… kissed me goodnight, touched our baby, and you already knew you weren’t coming back.”

Her breath hitched as her hand moved over the swell of her belly, as if trying to protect the child from the truth pressing in.

“You knew I was pregnant. And you still left. That’s what makes it worse. Not the addiction. Not the lies. That. You knew, and it didn’t stop you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I gave up everything trying to find you, Bobby,” she said, louder now, choking on the grief. “I drained what little savings I had. Every cent I scraped together went to flyers, gas, private search sites. I even hired some guy off Craigslist who said he could ‘track people down for a price.’ That was three hundred dollars I’ll never get back.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears.

“I work double shifts now just to stay afloat. Still serving greasy food to assholes who think I’m invisible—coming home to this empty fucking apartment, sleeping in a bed that feels like a coffin.”

She fell back onto the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths.

“I really thought you were different,” she whispered. “I did. I thought… maybe this time, it wouldn’t end with someone leaving. I really get left for everything else at this point, not good enough, prettier women, drugs. And maybe that’s worse. Because at least he looked me in the eye and said goodbye. Or maybe…did you find a better woman Bobby?”

Her lips trembled as another sob escaped.

“You said you loved me. You said we were in this together. We made something together, Bobby. We made a life. And you just… vanished.”

She reached for the ultrasound photo tucked into the drawer and held it to her chest.

“I swear he moves and grows everytime I cry,” she whispered. “Like he knows I need a distraction.”

She ran her hand down her belly again, slower this time.

“But I won’t let them grow up thinking he or she was a mistake. Or unworth staying for.”

The room felt unbearably quiet now. Still, again. But this time, colder.

She closed her eyes and curled tighter around herself, the photos, the baby. Everything she had left.

“I’ll do this without you,” she said softly. “Even if it breaks me.”

And in the stillness, in the tiny home they had built, she stares at the ceiling. Thinking. Doubting. Is this all that life can be ? How would she be able to take care of a little human? Maybe this baby wasn't meant for her. Maybe it was someone else's place to be their mom.

Maybe that's it.

Then I will wait. Just until the baby comes.

Just shoot me if you're gonna attack me like this

a selection of artist memes hand-picked and curated by me based on my own experiences

YES PLEASE. HES SO INCONSIDERATE TO Y/N'S FEELINGS OR WHY THEY DIDNT WANNA SIT WITH MANY PEOPLE THEYRE NOT COMFY WITH. MAKE. HIM. S U F F E R.

Sorry went too hard there, but yes please, make the man feel pain

"go sit with your friends" Haikyuu Angst

"go sit with your friends , i will be fine"

you always tell him you'll be fine, that he can go. you just don't wanna come off as the obsessive, clingy partner who needs their boyfriend to be with them 24/7. its just lunch and plus you were never as social as him anyways, you wouldn't fit in no matter how hard you tried so why bother right? he always looked so carefree with his friend group at the tables, their laughter radiated throughout the lunch room. the jokes they tell to each other being unnecessarily loud so everyone can hear them. all of them being with each other, everyone having a place at that table. all of them equal, if you were there you wouldn't blend in. you would be the one awkwardly sitting there, trying to fit in and tell a joke but end up making the table go silent, you would be the one that wouldn't know how to answer questions directed to them so you would just ignore them and end up offending the person that asked you. at least thats what you thought although your boyfriend would constantly tell you that those thoughts that you were having are ridiculous and his friends aren't like that and that you'll be "fine" you weren't going to take that chance. so you sit by yourself at the side while he sits off in the middle of the room, the centre of attention and the quiet observer

"go sit with your friends, i'll sit here and die"

as you know you were never as popular as him, never as social as him, never as loud and open as him. god knows why he chose to date you. the quiet, shy student, the one that people picked on for fun, the one that got rubbish thrown at them, the one who got humiliated in front of their peers on a daily basis. the one who could never stand up for their self . but it all changed when he started going out with you, those stares of disgust turned into stares of envy, now when people came up to you it was to say good morning or ask how you were, dare say you started to make friends. i guess that was only temporary, that kindness only showed when your boyfriend was around and that you soon began to notice when you started to sit by yourself at lunch. getting awful notes, empty milk cartons thrown in your direction, people even came up to you just to curse at you. high school kids could be so cruel sometimes. even though all that happens to you, you would rather suck it up and sit by yourself then sit with your boyfriend and show everyone just how wrong and incompatible you guys are for each other

"go sit with your friends it isn't that hard"

you've begun to notice him give up trying to ask you to sit with him, he doesn't ask anymore, he just leaves the classroom and waits for his other friend in your class, a girl named Aiko, and they walk to lunch together being obnoxiously loud and once they sit down with their other friends he seems to forgets about your existence. before he used to glance in your direction and smile, maybe even give you a wink before getting slapped on the back of the head by his volleyball friends and rejoining the conversation. he doesn't do that anymore, he just gets so absorbed with his conversation that he doesn't pay attention to you anymore. one day you decide to go sit with them, gathering your courage to go walk over to their table. you stand in front of it for a second, aiko is first to notice you clearing her throat to get everyone else's attention. he turns to look at you and the only thing he says is "oh hey y/n what're you doing here? you never sit with me, you bored or something?" before turning back to his food not sparing you a second glance. "don't be an asshole" aiko says whilst chuckling at him, he throws a vegetable at her, aiko's face contorts into somewhat of an offended face and throws another vegetable back, they then laugh and something else across the room catches aiko's attention thats when you notice your boyfriends gaze linger on her face, eyes darting from her hair to her eyes then to her nose and finally settling on her lips. you can't help but feel unequal to her, she's perfect and she's unknowingly captured your boyfriends attention and maybe heart. one of his friends invite you to sit with them and makes room next to him for you to sit. then they continue the conversation like you aren't even there and in a way you aren't there because right now the only thing you can pay attention to is the enamoured look on your boyfriends face whenever he looks at aiko.

"go sit with your friends and leave me here scarred"

"i don't wanna do this to you anymore" are the first words that come out of your boyfriends mouth when you first see him the next day. Aiko is right next him, wearing his volleyball jumper, "i'll go" she says before leaving. your boyfriend watches her walk away then sighs and looks at you, your face downcast after crying last night realising you might have lost your boyfriend, the only good thing you had at this stupid school. "what do you mean" you answer him although knowing full well what he's talking about, you just want confirmation before you go crying your eyes out. "i need someone who can be here with me, like actually be there and willing to put in an effort to be in a relationship, because a relationship needs to be 50/50 and you aren't willing to put in a effort or make the sacrifices that are needed to make this" he gestured between himself and you "work" he finished. you were confused, what sacrifices was he expecting you to make? "what do you mean sacrifices?" you ask him mildly hurt and confused. he sighed again but this time it was a more annoyed sigh "a sacrifice as simple as um i don't know maybe sitting with me at lunch" you could've slapped him, is that what this whole thing was about "you're breaking up with me because i won't sit with you at lunch?" you asked again, something inside you was telling you that what he said wasn't the only problem but another part of you was abandoning all rational thought, you started to blink back tears " you know damn well thats not what i meant, i see what people do to you when i'm not there, thats why i wanted you to sit with my friends and i, but you were just so caught up in yourself and your own little world to notice. i've tried multiple times to tell you that my friends are not like that and you'll be fine but you never wanted to get out of your own comfort zone, i've begged you multiple times to sit with me but you never did. thats what i mean by sacrifices, try to do something someone else wants to do for once" you're crying now, hearing his words is like a sharp slap to the face. is it true? are you really that self absorbed? "you wanna talk about sacrifices? how come you never sat with me then, if you're so concerned about what other people are doing?" he inhales then exhales sharply, clearly fed up and yells at you in front of everyone making even more of a scene "I HAVE TRIED TO SIT WITH YOU BUT YOU ALWAYS SAY "no go sit with your friends i'm fine" OR "no go sit with your friends i'm alright i promise" UNTIL I FINALLY LEAVE YOU ALONE, I'VE TRIED Y/N, MULTIPLE TIMES. YOU'RE JUST TOO SELFISH TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP" now that one hit you straight in your heart. all those moments you spent together, when he told you he loved you, when you guys sat next to each other in class passing notes. did that mean nothing? he peers down at your tear stricken face and watches you with a look of pure disgust "anyways like i said i'm done, have a good like y'n" that was the last thing he said to you before going off to sit at his table next to Aiko and leaving you there. all alone.

So my last post was about a Mushroom Village so I decided to post this drawing of Mushrooms cuz...why not. #art #traditionalart #mushrooms #fanartdom https://www.instagram.com/p/ByK_Z6fnGeS/?igshid=1ko6nmm701fof

Oh My God, They Were Roommates

corpse husband x fem! reader 

summary: and they were roommates! oh my god, they were roommates 

request: hi i really like your writing and was wondering if u could write for me :) if possible can u do one were u (fem) and corpse are roommates and u accidentally come into his room while streaming and everyone hear u so you stay and watch. people that he’s playing with and the stream see corpse act very sweet and soft to u. so know everyone is teasing him and he finally admits he has feelings for u on his stream. just a lot of fluff pls and thank u :))

warnings: cursing 

word count: 812

Notes: This is proof read but I could have missed some stuff. I can’t believe I posted twice in a day. Although since its past midnight its techincally the next day, but I haven’t slept. Thank you for the request nonnie and I hope you all enjoy :) 

Living with Corpse was fun. You guys were close friends when you were younger; you moved away but managed to stay friends. You spoke almost every day, and when he started his youtube channel you were one of the first people he told. You had been starting your first year as a middle school literature teacher and wanted to move back home. You didn’t think you’d get the job so you never made any living arrangements. Then the school hired you on short notice and you needed a place to live stat. Corpse was gracious enough and offered to be your roommate. It was supposed to be temporary but here you were almost a year later still living with him.

You didn’t want to move out anyway. You liked living with Corpse; there was never a dull moment with him. You would sit in on his streams and laugh along with him. You got to hear pre-release demos of his songs. You told him the latest insults your students would say to you because middle schoolers are brutal.  You even loved more chill moments of editing and grading next to each other while eating takeout.

You were getting home late from a faculty meeting and walked into Corpse’s office. “Hey Corpse, you wanna order food tonight– aw shit,” you said. You didn’t know Corpse was streaming. He turned around to look at you; you looked like a deer in the headlights. You tried to back out slowly but he stopped you, “No Y/N come in it’s fine,” he said and laughed at your awkward demeanor. “Everyone, say hi to my roommate Y/N,” he said and disconnected his headphones. A series of hellos erupted from his computer’s speakers as the streamers on the other end greeted you excitedly. You walked up to his computer and noticed the chat speed past with a plethora of heys. “Y/N wanna say hi to the stream?” You nodded and got closer to the mic so it could properly pick up your voice.

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