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yaaaass! i'm always up for a thread!

          ❝    hot  weather’s  fucking  great  for  hero  work …    but,    ❞    katsuki snarls as his sweat detonates,  a wild flurry of tiny explosions dancing across palms,  ❝    it’s the fucking worst for everyday shit.    ❞

#                so y’all know the classic “izuku had a birthday party nobody came to” and i quite like that, so in my interpretation he had a birthday party when he was nine and he hand-wrote everyone in his class a personal invitation letter and nobody came besides from the neighbours (who had kids who were like under the age of 7) whom his mom invited and some of his mom’s work friends

#             izuku was suuuper sad about it but i think apart of him sort of knew too because i can imagine he found some of his invitation letter thrown into the trashcan? which rlly broke him apart,  and it rlly stirred him further from wanting any attention to settle on him during his birthday

#             although in all honesty, i do think one of his classmates actually did give him a birthday present the following week because she feels so bad that she didn’t come [due to peer pressure] and when she told her mom, her mom scolded her!  she gave him the birthday present secretly,  but i think it just puts izuku into that perspective that maybe the party wasn’t a good idea because it’d caused his classmate to cry? lmao the kid’s got a weird savior complex leave him alone!!!!!

#              but moving on from that,  inko and izuku actually developed a new routine for them wherein they baked cakes together for birthdays (it was inko’s attempt to try and cheer izuku up and it worked) and i think that was one of his first experiences in baking. he loves it!!!!  it’s personal, intimate, and he is spending it with the person who is most important to him

#             usually they bake the cake on the day or the following weekend, and went to the shrine if they could!  or if inko had more time or were more opportune that year,  she and izuku would catch a hero exhibition of sort and it’s a trip for the both of them!

#             despite that,  izuku isn’t completely ... lonely?  he is quite active on social media and very vocal in like, hero forums and/or quirk discussions blogs, and he does have some online friends whom he casually shared that he had his birthdays on that day,  and they’ll say  happy birthday  back!  izuku’s online friends,  while izuku never personally knew them,  are good friends!

#             which rounds me to the conclusion:  izuku doesn’t hate his birthday.  he doesn’t even dislike it?  he’s a little disheartened by the incident when he was nine, sure, but overtime he’s grown more or less quite indifferent towards it - if someone wishes him, he’ll accept it;  if they don’t, he’s super fine. he still has the tradition with his mom, and, as he grows up, he finds that he much actually prefers the quieter ways he’s been celebrating — a dinner, some time spent together, intimate and close. he’s set.

            ❝  CAN  YOU  .  .  .  not  turn  around  for  a  second  ??  ❞  shouto  hugs  fuyumi  from  behind,  a  bouquet  of  her  favorite  flowers  in  his  hand,  pressed  against  her  chest.  ❝  the  reason  i’m  not  drowning  today  is  because  of  you,  nee-san.  it’s  not  fair  that  you  had  to  raise  to  all  of  us,  that  you  had  to  grow  up  so  fast  when  you  were  still  just  a  kid  too.  &&—-  ❞  shouto  buries  his  face  into  her  shoulder,  struggling  to  keep  his  voice  steady.  ❝  i’m  sorry  i  couldn’t  protect  you,  or  do  more  for  you  back  then.  you  always  deserved  better.  ❞  too  many  times  shouto  imagined  running  away  with  his  siblings.  if  he  had  been  stronger,  braver,  maybe  he  could’ve  done  that.  

           ❝  … sometimes,  i’d  dream  about  you  walking  out  the  door.  &&  you’d  have  every  right  to  do  that.  ❞  if  fuyumi  chose  to  leave  this  family  behind,  shouto  would  accept  it.  she  shouldn’t  burn  with  the  rest  of  them.  ❝  —-but  you  stayed.  ❞  his  voice  cracks  all  over  the  place,  &&  tears  brim  his  eyes,  but  shouto  gently  turns  his  sister  around,  so  they  can  see  each  other.  he  passes  the  flowers  to  her.  today  isn’t  a  day  to  suffocate  in  anger  over  a  man  who  set  their  family  on  fire.  today  &&  every  day  in  the  year  is   for  shouto  to  be  grateful  for  his  sister.  ❝  i  love  you.  thank  you  for  everything,  nee-san.  ❞

she doesn’t  —   turn around that is.

but that’s more to do with shock at first,  than the fact that fuyumi’s easily complacent.   (   or maybe she is,  fuyumi certainly is in no business to deny the truth.   )   before it morphs into this sense of dread,   a ball of fear and horror weighing like steel at the bottom of her stomach,   because it’s one thing to have been presented these words that she’s sure comes simply from a place of sincerity,  but it’s another when it’s her most dangerous thoughts that had found its way into becoming words.

a line of panic :   how could he have known?    bursts into her,  sharp,  because any thoughts of leaving were something fuyumi keeps tightly locked,  away from consideration,  though it appears once in a blue moon,  like an unrested ghost.   she only has few seconds to fully gather her expressions before shōto spins her around,  and she wonders if her little brother will mistaken her wide-eyed, tear-glistened eyes with her being moved,  not pushed to panic.

@repressedkindness​ asked:  “ Midoriya. ” The door was opened and Shoto was caught standing outside the green-haired's dorm room. “ Good Morning, ” he mumbled. Having woken earlier than usual, he still was feeling a little drowsy. What had he been doing there? This day wasn't like any other for his classmate. It was his birthday. Shoto had found out randomly about it when listening to a conversation their classmates had. Thankfully, because of that, he had enough time to prepare himself for the day. Looking for a gift wasn't the easy task he thought it to be, especially when the receiver was someone very important to him. Gifts and similar gestures had the power to transmit the feelings someone had for another. Not the worth, but the thought was what mattered, and for Midoriya, Shoto wished to find something that'd show him even a tiny bit of what he felt of him.

The one to have saved him. How things would have been if it hadn't been for him ? If they hadn't been FRIENDS? That word that never came to his mind before. A word he believed only foolish people would use. Only those to haven't known what real love was like and the pain of losing it — of losing all feelings to bring warmth to one's heart and not let it freeze and shatter. Easily talking about a bond most couldn’t imagine. Never had he been able to say that word out loud, until now. And he owed that to Midoriya. For reading him, understanding him, and trying to SAVE him. The very first person after his mother to bring some peace to his heart.

Those feelings he couldn't properly describe, he wished to convey in some way, if possible. What he concluded on giving him, wasn't a fancy gift, but something he hoped he was going to appreciate. He had been standing outside his room for some time, ignorant of dozing off when supporting his back against the wall. He wanted to be one of the first to wish him for the day, knowing everyone was going to fall on him the moment he'd leave the elevator and walk to the common room.

When their eyes finally met, he moved closer, extending his hand. He held a wrapped gift, and a small bouquet of white chrysanthemums. The gift was a simple notebook with a hard cover, with carved the word ‘ Deku ’ at the center of it. It was his way of telling him to continue what he did. To continue with the same love and passion for everything he did and write down his thoughts. As for the flowers, they held another meaning. His devotion. Loyalty. With a soft, quiet tone, barely heard,  he whispered ‘ Happy Birthday ’ and offered a small smile at him.

( from Shoto ) (sorry this is late! it's a little crappy but i wanted it not to be too late! sorry if it's random too! )

izuku isn’t in a rush.

he never is  —   not even on his birthday.  after all,  if it hadn’t been for the phone call he had spent an hour talking with his mom yesterday and the hasty messages sent by all might right when the clock stroke midnight about the date and the detail surrounding it,  izuku would’ve probably forgotten all about it altogether.  not out of some dramatic reason,  though.

so maybe his failed ninth birthday party was kinda ... sad  —   considering no one but the neighbours had showed up,  and even then,  it was out of some obligatory reasons because they were kind to his mom  —  but,  really,   izuku just stops putting much value on it,  you know?   and quiet birthdays were something that suited him and his mom more,  that’s all.

being in a closely-knitted classroom changed that,  though.

he still remembers the awkwardness that he exhibited when yaoyorozu-san was collecting everybody’s birthday informations early during their first few months of schooling.  it was to keep track,  she’d said,  with that diplomatic smile,  while kaminari-kun had waved his hands,  pumping it in the air alongside ashido-san,  who seems to look pinker than usual.  it’s so we can prepare something on everyone’s birthdays!   which was   ...    well.   it was a nice thought,  izuku had thought then.   to be included.

to be remembered.

he just didn’t think much about it after,  you know?   and then he’d woken up today with a flurry of messages by iida-kun and uraraka-kun.  izuku hadn’t checked it yet,  shuffling around the room in an attempt to locate his morning kit before he walks himself to the common bathroom.  it’s when he stumbles out of the room that he’s startled  —  thank god for quick reflexes  —  and notices todoroki-kun.

the gift is  ...   unexpected.  because   -    well,  it’s one thing to be wished,  you know?  izuku couldn’t remember the last time he was gifted anything.   maybe from the old man at his neighborhood working at the convenience store who gave izuku a free ice cream once when he found out it was izuku’s birthday.  that was nice of the old man,  even if he smelled too much like cigarette.  he’d known him since kacchan and him were kids.  but this—

the high of izuku’s freckled cheeks blotch with red patches.  aahh,  he really hadn’t expect this!

‘  todoroki-kun,  thank you!   ’    it’s such a simple gift,  but izuku can’t help from being moved;  even going as far as bowing down in his effort to thank.  he cradles the flowers carefully,  amazed.  already,  he’s anxious with how he’s planning to preserve this.  he’s never been given flowers before!   ‘   i   ...   wow.   you really didn’t have to,  but  —   i’ll use this!   i won’t let it go to waste.  i promise.   ah   ...   i’m so happy.   ’

@ofdetonation​ asked:  he is still recovering. still… disconnected. katsuki stares at the midoriya household door with a tense frown on his face, mitsuki standing by him with a wary hand on his shoulder, crimson meeting matching crimson, which carries an uneasy smile. it’s izuku’s birthday, but things weren’t the same — and that set the young blond on edge.

he had asked inko prior, asked if izuku would be up for a visit with his mother tagging along, just for a quick happy birthday and a gift. she had reluctantly agreed. if anything, for the blond to offer a way to bring izuku back to reality a little, with trivial shit that they hadn’t even done for years — at fault, once again.

but today is izuku’s day, and katsuki had even gone through the effort to make him something for the occasion; baking wasn’t his strength, though the cake he created is still nicely iced, and the decorations just enough to not be childish or too adult-like. the gift he brought on behalf of the rest of the class is something he considers stupid, however. mitsuki holds the gift in her hands, neatly wrapped in brown paper, decorated with green and blue and white. she insisted on the presentation with the hope that izuku would appreciate it. katsuki doubts it.

by the time mitsuki knocks and they’re both let in, katsuki’s brows are furrowed, and his jaw tense. he switches the cake with the gift, his mother ushering him to find izuku to give it to him, acting as though he were three again — with the never-ending excitement that came with giving the best of the best, hoping to win over izuku’s friendship, even if he didn’t have to try.

they weren’t the same anymore.

“oi, nerd,” comes katsuki’s stoic tone, the blond having opened the door to izuku’s room slightly — enough for privacy, but also enough for him to annoy the other into a response. “auntie inko said you might be in here. you better be fucking awake.”

katsuki welcomes himself into the other’s room, shutting the door behind him and throwing the gift over to the bed. crimson hones in on the freckled boy with a less-than-impressed look on his face, arms crossed, body leaning against the door to block out the potential escape route… if the other didn’t feel like talking. katsuki has a suspicion it might be that way.

“not even gonna bother celebrating your damn birthday, huh? it’s a damn miracle you’re alive, don’tcha think you should fucking celebrate a little? it sure ain’t gonna kill you.” a huff. “gift’s from the damned class, by the way. i made you cake. now get your ass up and live a fucking little, deku, you’ve made it around the sun another fucking year.” /  hmm slightly angstier approach 🤔

kacchan lacks tact.

it’s not something that’s new,  though izuku supposes it loses a bit of its charms when it’s coming from a very well-developed teenager than it was when it was coming from a clumsy but loud four-year-old.   for a moment,  that was all izuku had allowed himself to indulge in:  this small fantasy of an excited spiky blonde-haired child,  who would run right up to izuku’s room,  babbling over the day ahead of them.

izuku doesn’t often reminisce  —  there would be no point beyond pointing out times in his life when all might’s fight was incredible,  or kacchan’s determination was astounding   —  but he thinks about the reaction he would’ve given had he been the simple kid that he was.   how infectious  bakugou katsuki  is with his spirits:  if kacchan is excited,  then of course izuku would be too.  if kacchan had been eager and insistent in wanting izuku to hurry up so they could start their day,  then izuku would’ve rushed.

things were easy then,  wasn’t it?

the kacchan now is ...   glaring,  izuku thinks   -   though then again kacchan’s face had been more or less constructed into a permanent frown ever since they were ...  nine?  ten years old?   a shame,  was what the girls in middle school used to say,  and some he’s sure had been traded in whispers among their high school hallways.  a strikingly handsome face,  and bakugou katsuki insists on delivering nothing but scowls and irritated emotions.

still,  izuku couldn’t quite imagine anything else.  besides from kacchan glaring,  or irreversibly angry,  or quietly fuming,  or  -   in the rare occassion that kacchan’s happy enough  -  victoriously smirking,   izuku couldn’t  ...   really imagine any other expressions from his childhood friend towards him.  he used to be so envious of kirishima-kun,  kaminari-kun,  sero-kun,  and  ashido-san for having the privilege of being close to kacchan the way they are.

where izuku could never enter,  they’ve obliterated the blonde’s walls like it’s nothing.

maybe izuku should be happy instead  —  and he is  —  but there is still that drop of disappointment that ripples throughout.  the child in him who had thought his childhood friend hung the stars,  twisting and kneading his shirts in obvious anxiousness over the helpnessness in knowing he will lose this friendship no matter how much he pleads or insists.

it’s an odd state to be in,  izuku could admit to that at least:   for him to view kacchan so preciously,  knowing that they’re as distant as any two people could be.

so this is a surprise.  really,   it is.   kacchan walks into his room like the four-year-old him had never left,  and it   ...    it doesn’t really bring anything much out of him,  if izuku’s honest.  a strange sense of nostalgia maybe;  the faint feeling of wanting to appreciate,  but ultimately he’s guarded.   so he merely says,   ‘   ah    -    thank you.   you shouldn’t have—   ’     izuku tries smiling,  hand on the wrapped gift.    ‘   you could’ve just mailed it.   ’

birthdays stopped being a big deal,  anyways.

ever since that ninth birthday party that nobody — sans izuku’s unknowing and maybe slightly pitying neighbours — showed up to.    ‘   kacchan baked ?  ’   that,  at least,  got his eyes widen.   the high of his cheeks turn pink:   another thing he can’t imagine,  kacchan with any baking tools,  doing something specifically for him.   but again,  the blonde’s a master at surprising:  the fight at ground beta,  the trainings after,  kacchan taking the attack from shigaraki for him.   ahh as usual,  izuku can’t help thinking,  you’re amazing. 

‘   usually mom and i would.   bake,  that is.  then we’d go to the shrine,  say our thanks.  would you ...  —  i mean.  if auntie mitsuki and you are free,  maybe we could,  uh   ...    you could come.   ’