May All The People Who See This Finish Their Current Wip This Year

“But my writing’s not good like-” Comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison is the thief of joy. Comparison is the thief of joy.

Fractal | Shouto & Touya Todoroki | poetry/prose | 580 words

Shouto’s world changed when he woke up in the hospital. 

Touya’s world changed when he woke up in the hospital.

His face had been burned, the doctor told him. 

He had burned his body, a stranger told him.

Shouto remembered the shouting. 

Touya remembered the desperation.

The kind of argument that felt like it shook the walls around him. 

The disappointment in his father’s eyes, twisting up his insides as Endeavor shouted and raged and forced Touya to stop. 

(He was being burnt up)

(He was being replaced)

Long after the echoes of his father’s voice had faded, Shouto remembered walking into the kitchen. 

He remembered watching his mother’s unmoving form while she refused to say anything- anything- and then Touya blazed out the door without looking back to see if her expression had crumpled with regret.

He remembered watching his mother’s face flit from terror to anguish in the span of a breath as he entered, looking like she had been shattered by his soft-footed, pattering approach. 

By then, Touya knew better than to search for regret in his father’s eyes. 

And then the woman before him became unrecognizable.

Endeavor didn’t think Touya was strong enough but he was. He could be. 

Shouto burned with the memory of a pain more intense than any he’d ever felt before. 

Touya remembered the screaming in his veins, remembered the burn- harsher than anything he’d ever felt before. Remembered a startling break in the anguish and thinking, with his last shred of clarity, that this had to be good enough for his father. 

It left Shouto numb and shivering beneath the thin, white hospital sheets. 

It had to be. 

“Mom..?” Shouto croaked and the doctor shook his head no.  

It had to be. 

Shouto didn’t cry when he saw the scar marring his face, but something inside of him felt sick.

Touya didn’t cry when he saw his mottled, purple reflection held together by crude stitches. Or when they told him he had died. 

Shouto let the shock pool over him like ice and held the freezing shards close to his chest, hoping that they might be enough to douse the monstrous pain in his chest. 

The disappointment was his own when he realized that he hadn’t been enough, after all. That he never was and never would be. 

Shouto thought of the heat that always seemed to lick at his father’s eyes and fists when he shouted- warm enough to be felt even when Shouto couldn’t see the flames through his closed eyes or hear the words through his ragged, warbling breaths. 

The bitterness was his own, too, but the expression in the mirror was startlingly familiar. 

Heat thrummed uneasily beneath Shouto’s veins and the second he realized that the fire within himself was nothing more than his father’s furious legacy, pawned off onto Shouto like a lead shackle, was the second that Shouto Todoroki decided to freeze. 

The second that Touya realized he was wearing the face his father had always greeted him with was the second time Touya Todoroki died and left a rotten shell of himself to walk the earth. 

Shouto cast his eyes downward and didn’t respond to the doctor. 

He didn’t notice that his father couldn’t look him in the eye. 

Shouto grew older and decided that he and his mother were both victims of Endeavor. 

Touya grew smarter and decided that the world would soon know who had driven him to an early death.

Short For Grenade update/excerpt !

every time i think im making solid progress with this fic, it keeps getting longer on me lol, so here's the most recent bit ive written:

“My, my, what a passionate statement,” Mitsuki pointed out, poking his knee. Katsuki frowned.   “I hate you,” he hissed.  “You are just chalk full of those feelings today, kid.”   Katsuki groaned loudly and extricated himself from his mother’s gentle grip, stomping up the stairs with a few curses tossed over his shoulder to avoid her less-gentle, bitch-ass cackling at his expense.  “C’mon Nade!” Katsuki called, grinning proudly to himself when he heard the sound of her nails scrabbling up the stairs behind himself. “Good girl,” he praised, waiting for her to trot into his room before he closed his door. 

Still in the living room, Masaru fell into Katsuki’s abandoned space on the couch, intertwining a hand with his wife.  “He didn’t slam it,” Masaru pointed out quietly, a wide, wobbly smile crawling over his face.  MItsuki eyed the staircase for a long moment before raising their clasped hands to place a kiss on her husband’s wedding band.  “Guess we’re not fucking this whole parenting thing up after all.” Masaru’s hair was greasy where it brushed against her neck, his body warm in all the places they were connected, and Mitsuki was…happy. She carefully stroked Masaru’s bangs away from his forehead while he began to sniffle on her shoulder, the sound of Katsuki’s raucous laughter echoing through the house, followed by the gleeful, yipping bark of Grenade the fucking dog.  Maybe…maybe they really weren’t fucking up, she thought to herself- maybe for the first time since they’d brought Katsuki back from the hospital, away from the watchful, knowing gazes of the doctors and nurses, and Mitsuki was left wondering just what the hell she was supposed to do with her baby now.  “You’re such a damn sap,” she murmured, tightening her grip on Masaru’s hand.  Masaru chuckled wetly, lifting his face to press a lingering kiss to Mitsuki’s temple. His eyes shone behind his glasses.  “Grenade,” he said wondrously, because neither of them could recall the last time Katsuki had stormed up to his room, angry, and not slammed the door.  And nothing else really needed to be said.   Mitsuki tipped her forehead against Masaru’s.  “Grenade,” she agreed in a whisper.

The urge to bother my mutuals

currently looking for someone to beta-read some of my i7 stuff, so lmk if you’re interested!

I have a few short fics posted here under the #i7 tag and the #writeblr tag for reference

Tentatively poking my head through the door... what's happening in Tumblr land?

Meow

Original:

reblog if you're completely okay with me asking stuff about your wip in your inbox! <3

Not me making last minute HQ stickers hahahaha

BkDk Inktober Day 1 (2023) - "Boyfriend Material" Nothing screams 'boyfriend material' to me quite like artistic/musical skill 🥁