`eeeeeeeeeeh? what do you mean you don't have time to play smash?? come on come on!! tomura won't be back for another hour so i'm gonna be bored alone!' she tugs on his shirt sleeve, whining like a child, practically pulling him back to the couch as she uses her other hand to pick up the controller. she shoves it into his gut, happily bouncing up and down, switching on the console once again.
what the fuck is smash. izuku sneers that previous sentence internally; it was a truthful question, so he damns his lack of knowledge upon these things. save his childhood for a handful of scattered dreams all over the floor, coming in the form of ripped hero magazines and torn up drawings of all might. maybe if he dedicated himself to a normal upbringing he wouldn’t have to question these mundane activities. maybe.
❛ toga, you do realize i have the deadline of our next attack’s layout is tomorrow, and if i don’t get this finalized then shigaraki would most definitely be pissed and— ❜ no, no, no, this didn’t come with binary choices : when toga wants it, she gets it, that’s how it mostly worked. and izuku was no rule breaker. her vivacious attitude about the entire thing though did seem worthwhile in the midst of his un-mundane life. it wouldn’t be bad to do shit like this, right? you know. kid things. things i’m supposed to at least enjoy rather than focusing on destroying something that destroyed me.
oh well. he sighs, defeated. an i guess it can’t be helped smile on his lips.
❛ alright, fine. just one game and i’ll go, okay? ❜ even if i still don’t know how this works.
