#dualborn

          Ochaco had noticeably become rather relaxed. Quieter compared to her bubbly and chatty persona that they all knew well. She stared at her open palms, clenching them shut and opening them in tandem. Tsuyu - her best friend - knew how troubled she was, but the kindred girl figured it just took time to adjust. Someone practically died in the teen’s arms. Maybe it was preventable; if only she could... “Uraraka.”

          Her eyes shot up from her hands, up to the boy who stood a pace or so from where she rested her body. Her vision adjusted to the twilight that filtered through the trees, the soft laughter and chatter of their classmates retreating to the dorms for the evening. The line of his form facing her; his face as stoic as ever - but it felt like he was seeing through her. She squeezed her hands shut and grinned, weakly. Her heart twisted, knowing she couldn’t keep it up forever, but like hell wasn’t she going to try. Her voice wavered, but she tried to keep her cheerful mask on.

                    “Todoroki-kun! Hey! What’s up?”

so he microwaved an egg for a minute.

and ... nothing happened. wait -- nothing happened? izuku crept a little closer, eyes squinting and brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to peer inside the microwave. huh. he waited a couple seconds longer and, when the egg didn’t explode still, he grabbed the handle of the microwave and popped it open, taking the bowl that held the egg inside out carefully with a towel to protect his hand, and set it down on the counter.  ❝ that’s weird ... why didn’t it -- ? ❞  he began to mumble to himself, picking up a fork as he did and poking the egg --

-- and getting bits of egg all over him as it suddenly and violently exploded.

 ❝ AH! ❞  he jumped back, losing his footing in the process of his wild scramble to get away, and ended up falling backwards onto the floor that was covered in pieces of egg, covered in pieces of egg himself. it exploded way quicker than he thought it would...! and at a totally different time! he nearly had a heart attack ... there was the sound of footsteps approaching, and izuku’s eyes widened (amazingly enough, more wide than they already were) before he saw todoroki standing at the entrance of the kitchen.  ❝ um ... ❞  he tried to look nonchalant and casual, but with the way his heart was racing and how his hand was clutching at his shirt right above his chest, eyes like a deer in headlights, izuku knew he looked anything but calm. or innocent.  ❝ i ... can explain. ❞ 

Well, Todoroki wasn’t the most talkative of people, plus Kaminari couldn’t help but feel a little stupid sometimes when the other acted as if something was just so simple it could be done by the flick of a finger. Nonetheless, he was a classmate and he was chill, no pun intended. So why not try and hang out with him a bit more often? Right?

//but what if he really gets just as cold as the rest of us during winter.

@dualborn -- Summoned some angst.

Amaria felt that at the respectable age of seventeen, she’s grown to love and hate plenty of things in equal measure. She loved storms, the freedom of the falling rain and watching lightning streak across dark clouds followed by the loud clap of thunder. It always changed the world to make it appear different from its sunny days, and she loved that. Loved it when the world looked different from her world, a world where she’s always on the run and watching over her shoulder. Always fearing the day her past would catch up with her.        She hated memories. Hated when her brain would play tricks, make her see things she didn’t want to see again. She had thought she’d grown used to seeing images dance before her eyes from time to time--given it was how she unlocked safes and whisked whatever item in question she was stealing. But such gifts are like a double-edged sword, and her mind kept replaying the same thing over and over like a broken record. The day she fled.

      She saw a blonde figure clutching her hand. ‘Almost there! We break from here and--’ Guilt riddled her as she raced beside the woman, uncertainty and fear filling her with each step forward. ‘B-But I killed--!’ The woman shook her head, ‘It was an accident! You didn’t mean to!’ The faith in her voice unwavering. Amaria stared with wide eyes, recalling blood and a slouched figure with metal jabbed through their chest, its ends scorched from her quirk. Just she saw light nearing the corner, the blonde woman smiled ‘We’re almost free-!’ but oh, there was an unforgiving sound. Gunshots. A crimson line pierced her forehead and a grief-stricken scream left the younger girls lips at the sight.

                    “You can see Mount Fuji from up here.”

          In her excitement, she exchanged a delighted laugh in response to his tiny smile. The pink coloring in her chubby cheeks became somewhat darker in color as her fingers pressed against the window, leaving ten little prints in their wake. Beneath her bubbly smile, her heart seemed to flutter but she paid no heed to the sudden bubble feelings... Until her eyes slipped a glance towards him from the edge of her vision. He wasn’t looking at her, but at the mountain she pointed out a moment before.

          The way the light reflected on his skin, making the argent of his hair twinkle lightly like sunlight filtering through an ice cube. How his eyes drank in the view of both her and the cityscape; how they bore not the age of a man who had his demons looming over his shoulder, but a mystified young man - appropriate for his age. She hadn’t noticed much of it before; but he was handsome. Almost like a fairy-tale prince that she heard of in every story. He was just missing a white horse.

          These thoughts left her lost, bewildering her as to what Shoto meant to her. Friends? ... Something more? Ochaco couldn’t find her answer quickly enough as the Ferris wheel decided that their few minutes of the closest thing to magic was up, beginning the slow descent back to their lives. Her heartbeat banged in her ears, her fingers fidgeting with the ends of her clothing. Not looking at him to ease this confusion.

           Ochaco hears him say something, some conglomeration of words that formed a sentence -- something she didn’t hear. She turns her attention up from her clothes to him, putting on a facade of a light-hearted smile.

                    “H..Huh? Sorry! A-ah, I didn’t hear you.”