time Nishinoya asked him out, Asahi’s insecurity made him question why somebody so optimistic would want somebody like him. Nishinoya decided to take this opportunity
to help Asahi understand his reasons before he made his second attempt.
finding new notes long after they started dating and kept every single one as a
Warnings: Potential to pull at your heart strings, but that’s about it really.
“God I miss you,” you sigh, letting your hand take Peter’s, desperately wishing he would just squeeze yours, show you that he could hear you, that he was still there… anything.
You didn’t get to see him as much as you would have liked, but every chance you got to visit Beacon Hills, to visit your best friend, you took. And every time you left you regretted going there in the first place. Seeing him like that, not a shed of an emotion on his face, non of his old wit, or his infectious laughter… he was but a shell of the man you had once known, and it killed you to see him like that. But never the less, you would always return.
It didn’t matter that it had been years since the fire, years since you had been able to actually hold a conversation with him. He was your best friend, and he always had been.
Of course, now the conversations were far more one-sided than they used to be, you would tell him about your life, from terrible dates to brilliant movies you promised you would re-watch with him when he was better. But with no response, it lost an awful lot of it’s meaning. But that didn’t stop you from going, from talking to him just as you would were he able to respond.
With a heavy smile, you nod your head, readying yourself to leave when you remember the one piece of information you had been debating over telling him, not wanting to cause him any anguish on the off chance he were able to hear you.
“Look,” you start, moving to kneel in front of his wheel chair, taking both of his hands in yours this time, your eyes staring uncertainly into the blank gaze of his. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t really know if I should, but I need to be honest with you. Someone has come to town, and I just… I know you can’t answer me, but you better me silently promising me you’ll stay safe. The Argent’s are back,” you sigh, your head falling in dismay.
Perhaps you had imagined it, knowing all too well what his usual reaction to that news would have been, but you could have sworn his hand twitched ever so slightly at your words. But as you look to his still motionless body, you convince yourself it was merely your mind playing tricks on you.
“They won’t hurt you, I promise,” you smile somewhat sadly, running your thumb over the back of his hand as you swear it to yourself as much to him. “And I’ll keep an eye on Derek, as always,” you add with a customary chuckle, making the same promise you always did.
“Just look after yourself, ok?” you all but whisper it, unable to look at him as you stand up, that usual feeling of betrayal kicking in as you move to leave, feeling as if you were abandoning him to the four white walls of his hospital bed once more. “I’ll see you soon,” you say in farewell, kissing the top of his head gently before gathering your bag, refusing to turn back to face him on the off chance that he might see the tears brimming in the corner of your eyes.
Sext: I want to bury my face into your chest and fill up every space in my lungs with you. I want you to hold me so tight that the sadness seeps out of me and evaporates into the air. I want to know what it feels like to be whole and I want to be whole with you.
“Average overly-excited Disney XD protagonist has two rational friends” actually just statistical error. Average overly-excited Disney XD protagonist has only one rational friend. Milo Murphy, who suffers from Extreme Hereditary Murphy’s Law condition and needs a SWAT team just to keep him from burning down Danville, is an outlier and should not have been counted.
This tiny thing sleeps on my chest,
his mewlings birthed by
what dreams I cannot imagine.
The curving sole of his foot,
pressed against my hand,
lacks the callous of tomorrow,
lacks the cracked abrasions
we older souls
borrow from the ground.
His mother tends his sister upstairs,
and I am left with this
clinging to me,
left grasping for lullabies
I don’t remember how to sing,
and I fear the gallop
of my unsettled heart
beneath his head will wake him.
His fist encircles my broad finger–
and my finger has never before seemed broad–
with the surprising strength of infancy.
His head settles
into the cradle curve of my throat,
and he is quiet,
he is quiet,
a tiny thing asleep on my chest.
My fellow artist friends who do commissions - do you set yourself a limit for adjustments for the initial sketch and finished picture or do you adjust the picture as long as the customer tells you to change it?