~~~

"hiccup and astrid dating" this "hiccup and astrid dating" that, but lets talk about BEFORE they were together

im currently rewatching rtte and im noticing a bunch of details people DONT TALK ABOUT!!! hiccup and astrid always standing or sitting next to each other, hiccup being the only one to comfort astrid when heather leaves, hiccup and astrid just being the bestest of buds and always hanging out, astrid talking about hiccup when he's not there, even just the smallest of details like just glancing at each other. the twins are doing something stupid? astrid turns to give hiccup a raise of the brow, and hiccup just shrugs.

AND LETS NOT FORGET IN LIKE THE FIRST EPISODE, HICCUP AND ASTRID SIT NEXT TO EACHOTHER ON THE BEACH WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS ASLEEP, JUST TALKING WHILE GAZING AT THE MOON!!!! these are the purest details never mentioned and it makes me sad :(

edit: "i can't imagine a world without you in it" BEING SAID BETWEEN THEM, WITH NO ROMANTIC FEELINGS BEING SAID YET? I ACTUALLY CAN'T THEY'RE EVERYTHING😭❤️

bro can we talk about all the absolutely CRAZY shit that happens in dob and rtte??? like hiccup getting struck by fucking lightning??? snotlout getting struck like 50 billion times??? hiccup getting kidnapped, absolutely beat up by all the villains, almost drowning, astrid going blind, ALSO almost drowning- I could go ON-

and yet its all made light-hearted, turned into a joke or just not taken at its severity cuz its a show for like 8 year olds

like what the FUCK do you MEAN astrid almost DIES FROM POISION and its NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN?!?!?!

THE SHIT (GOLD) YOU FIND IN THE OCEAN (YOUTUBE COMMENT’S SECTION)

hi so i never saw anyone correcting Viggo's age so im sorry if im wrong on him being 30, i was making a guess and also some other people that i saw on reddit and fandom were saying he's around that age (since im pretty sure they never actually mention his age in the show but i could be wrong)

also yes me saying they need therapy was a joke, and it was intended to be, so i apologize if you take that the wrong way. I was never trying to be rude, or ableist, that is legitimately just my humor, and i joke about needing therapy with my friends and some of which actually go to therapy and have never been offended.

my original post was just me stating my opinion while trying to be a little funny, i again, never intended for anyone to take my jokes so seriously and be offended by my opinion on a ship from a kid's show.

my whole reblog saying it was a joke was because i saw your reblog and thought it was really funny, and seeing other people saying the same things as you, so I decided to reblog it stating my whole therapy thing was a joke (even though I thought it was kind of obvious)

i was not and AM not trying to harrass people who ship viggo and hiccup, and don't want to cause problems. again im sorry if that's how you took it, but that was not my intention. i didn't even think anyone would really see the post so i apologize.

have a blessed day.❤️

i actually refuse to believe vigcup shippers are real like wdym you ship the enemies that have nothing in common and are 11 years apart together like that's a fresh adult with a 30 year old how do you find this okay im genuinely concerned

deku vs. kacchan pt.2 is such a good fucking episode oh my gosh; we get to explore their relationship and a more intimate part of bakugo and I think that's just really special. throughout their fight they grow to have a deeper understanding of each other, and in their own special way, respect each other and I think that's super important to the show and how it moves on(from my memory at least lol)

its seen more in the after credit scene where izuku and katsuki are vacuuming the common area and izuku asks bakugo for tips on his fighting. its not much but its a huge step from their prior relationship and I just really love that. you can also tell the way bakugo has slightly changed in his manor towards deku, yeah he still yells at him but like he does that to everyone, he actually communicates with him and respects him which is a huge step seeing as he only seemed to really respect kirishima.

i just love this show

300 IQ

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

Hiccstrid Valentine Event day 12:

Miraculous AU

I use to watch the heck out of this show in middle school. I stopped watching it around season 2 tho but i've seen spoilers for season 5 and i'm obviously confused since i haven't watch Miraculous ladybug since high school 😅 i hope i'll have time to watch it again soon.

Fun fact i started watching MLB because i've seen a lot of crossover edits of adrientte and hiccstrid so i got curious and started watching MLB. I was obsessed with HTTYD and MLB in middle school so today's promt is dedicated to that.

Hiccup and Astrid are 15 here since Adrien and Marinette are also around that age. I had fun designing their costume ❤

Kintsugi

Shoji x reader, meet-cute feat. angst

(warnings: harassment, heteromorph discrimination, past abuse)

The station was nearly empty. It wasn't unusual, out in the boonies of Fukuoka. But after living in the city for so long, the quiet had become unfamiliar.

Anywhere else, Shoji would have found the fresh air and birdsong peaceful. But out here, it just felt like waiting for something bad to happen.

He didn't even tell his closest friends the real reason for this trip home. If he did, they'd insist on supporting him. They would mean well, but it was easier this way, not having to look out for anyone else. Who knows how the villagers would react if he came back with more freaks.

And, it's not like Mezo really needed his friends there to share in his grief. This was more for closure. When he cried at his grandfather's funeral, the tears were borne of relief, much to his shame.

The wounds on Mezo's face still ached when he moved his mouth to talk or chew. So, he learned how to make more parts with his quirk. Instead of just making mouths for fun or company as he had when he was very little, he added vocal cords, then a rudimentary esophagus. It was difficult, a lot of trial and error. But the payoff proved it had been a worthwhile use of his time.

Mezo sat at the dinner table with his family. The mask his parents had given him covered the more substantial bandages. He resented knowing that it was there so no one had to look at those reminders of his torn visage. At the same time, there was an undeniable comfort to wearing the thing. A shield between himself and the hateful world.

The stitches pulled when he smiled under the mask, but he couldn't help the feeling of elation at eating solid food without pain for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately, the sight of his new, unorthodox method of mastication had mixed reactions.

Mom pointedly ignored it, ever reluctant to disturb the peace. Grandpa was quietly side-eyeing the display, giving a difficult to read scoff and turning back to his plate with a smirk when Mezo nervously glanced over. Dad took the longest to notice, pinching the bridge of his nose when he did. "Geez, Mezo."

"Sorry. Hurts less," he explained, hoping that would be the end of it.

Surprisingly, it was Grandpa who jumped to his defense. "Let him eat that way son, I think it's great!"

Mezo looked at his grandfather with utter shock. That cheerful statement was easily the kindest thing he had ever said about his grandson, whose birth had been a curse upon the family. Mezo had half a mind to thank him for standing up for him, until the old man spoke again.

"I can almost look at him while eating, now that the face is covered up. Can't you get the lil monster to wear sleeves, too?"

"...M'not a monster, o-jiisan."

It was the first time he'd spoken up like that. The adults all looked shocked by Mezo's soft utterance of self defense. Until shock twisted into anger on the old man's face, and then-

Shoji's hand subconsciously went to his side, remembering the welt from the cane, the scolding from his mom not to backtalk grandpa. She always did that, always tried to appease him, to make him forget his suspicion that the dirty blood came from his daughter in law straying, even though his own quirk was extending arms.

Trapped deep in thought, Mezo didn't notice anyone sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Two boys, mid teens by the look of it, ran past suddenly, bumping into him on both sides, whooping excitedly. There was a tearing sound as Shoji's mask was suddenly ripped down. "OOPS!"

His heart was racing instantly, the pounding of blood in his ears making the laughter and comments sound eerily distant. "Ho-o-oly shit what's wrong with your face?!"

He froze. Shoji's legs felt glued in place, and for a moment he suspected the use of a quirk. Until he realized, it was just his own mind forcing a panic response.

Any other day, any other place, Mezo was sure he could have reacted more heroically. Calm, cool, collected. Perhaps spoken to them, or at the very least, gathered himself and remained dignified. But all of his emotions were already so raw, a feeling like rope burn from old memories binding in this place. This was just salt in the wound.

Finally, he forced an arm to move, shoving the mask back up. The second he let go, it started slipping again. His fingers brushed a huge tear in the fabric. Did he have a spare? He had to have a spare, it was probably in his bag, was he going to tear through his luggage right here and now, they were still talking, why couldn't he move?

Then a new voice chimed in, one that held no laughter as it barked, "HEY!" Still giggling, the pranksters skittered off before the risk of consequence could catch up. Firm footsteps drew closer, before finally stopping beside Shoji. "Little jackasses...hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He barely glanced at the woman who had jogged over to check on him, too embarrassed by the need for a rescue. Taking a deep breath to ground himself, he tried to put on a stoic mask. "Sorry for troubling you."

You scoffed. "You didn't do anything." His eyes finally found yours. Anticipation roiled in his belly as you curiously looked at his face, at his hand pulling the blue fabric tight over his skin to keep the halves together. "Did they do that?"

You thought a moment, then hesitantly spoke. "...I've got a sewing kit in my bag. You can sit with me during the ride."

"The mask, yeah. It's fine, it's just a thing. I have another." Yet, when he took his bag over to a bench to dig through its contents, the spare was nowhere to be found. It was probably sitting somewhere in his parents' house. Well, might as well consider that one lost forever. "Damnit... Nevermind, this is my only one."

It took a moment for Shoji to recognize the offer for what it was. "...oh! I don't want to impose."

You shrugged. "It's kind of a long trip, this'll give me something to do."

~~~

Mezo waited until the two of you were situated on the train to give up on the vain effort to hold his mask together. Pulling the torn garment over his head, he meekly passed it to you.

Your eyes briefly lingered on the scars, but Shoji was grateful when no questions followed the look. Instead, you focused on looking the fabric over to determine what exactly needed to be done. "...It looks worse that it is, I'll be able to tack it no problem. It's a clean tear, just in a bad spot. Want me to try and match the color and hide it, or you want it to pop?"

"Pop?"

"Yeah, like, make it a decoration, like a kintsugi thing. Use a bright color to make a line of stitches. It's gonna be a few hours, I could even try a little embroidery."

"You don't have to go through all that trouble, really, as long as I can wear it again that's enough." He felt bad enough, that you were fixing the consequence of him not paying attention. He felt strangely worse when he noticed the slightly disappointed look in your eyes as you selected a matching thread to hide the wound in his mask.

Silence found the two of you as you began the delicate operation. Uncomfortable silence, from Shoji's perspective.

"...what's kintsugi?"

"Hm?" You acknowledged without pausing your work.

"Kintsugi. You said it before."

"Oh! It's a ceramic technique where you use a gold paste to repair broken pieces. Instead of trying to hide the cracks, it draws attention to them, emphasizing them as something beautiful."

Shoji felt himself smile as he half joked, "if only that worked with real scars." His own words instantly made his stomach sour. Why would he say something like that to a near stranger? It was unbecoming to act so vulnerable. Couldn't he just keep that self pity inside, where it belongs.

Only, you didn't seem bothered by his spontaneous vulnerability. "I dunno. It's like body hair and birthmarks and cellulite, if you forget what you've been told about what's supposed to be attractive, then they're objectively very beautiful." As he considered the implications of your words, you went on. "Scars are really wonderful if you think about it. They're how your body shows its love for you, building you back stronger if you get hurt. Like, 'hey we're not done, let's get back out there!' I think that's lovely."

"It is, isn't it?" His eyes fell to the hidden repair on his mask. "...think you could do an octopus?"

You looked up at him then, excitement quickly overtaking your features. "I can try. And if it turns out looking godawful you only have to deal with it for a little while."

It didn't matter if it turned out poorly, he thought, nodding. He had already decided two things. One was that he'd wear it anyway, and keep it like a scar. So that when his friends asked how his trip went, he could show it to them and tell them about how he met someone so kind on the ride home.

The second was, when the time came to disembark, he would ask for your number.

~~~

Ultimate fantasy of being emotionally supportive to the blorbo go!

that feeling when you have a fire idea for a fanfiction but don't have enough motivation or writing skill to make it more than just your imaginary story you think about at night