#rassemblez

. . VOUS POUVEZ ENTENDRE CE TEXTE EN CLIQUANT SUR LE LIEN CI-DESSUS . Vivre dans votre nouvelle réalité. Vous ne changerez rien si vous ne prenez pas le temps d’écouter vraiment et sincèrement votre intérieur. Comment pouvez-vous expérimenter autre chose que ce que vous avez vous-même imaginé expérimenter si vous n’abandonnez pas ces vieux schémas de pensée que vous utilisez encore…

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not that he has to / wants to try for that. not that it’s a priority.

. . . but it is an economical exchange. it’s the decision not to invest more energy into beginning this conversation than he has to.

badass. bakugo twists the corner of his lip downwards into a sneer ( or a look of concentration ? ) as he studies uraraka —

‘ if you got as many people underestimatin’ you as you do — better take advantage of it. or punch ‘em, in the face.   ‘ he’s not offering advice for the sake of advice — not trying to shed wisdom that is already unknown.

but damn ? that fight they had in the arena was good competition. it was annoying because of it —

but whatever.

     thanks to one of the kids in her class, the kids of class 1-C were being forced to stay in the various other dorm buildings on campus. one of the students with a water quirk was messing around and accidentally flooded the entire building. as it was under repairs, konomaki ended up on the fourth floor of the 1-A  dorm building. quietly she began to unpack some of her things when she heard a knock on her open door. yellow eyes look up to find her neighbor  — uraraka ochako, right?  — standing in the doorway.   “ oh, hi, ”   konomaki greets in a low voice, trying to offer a friendly smile, despite feeling shy.

edits pt. 2 featuring luka and keigo....... what is it w/ fuyumi and smug bastards

birthdays are tricky for shinobi, too often wrought with bad memories and loss and ghosts of the past to be worth much celebrating. iruka knows this all too well himself, remembers bitterly marking each passing year as he grew older without his parents. but he’s fallen back into the habit as new faces enter his life, first for naruto’s sake ( what’s a childhood without birthdays? he wants to give this boy the world, so surely he can manage some cake and a few gifts ) and now, kakashi. iruka finds he wants to extend that same joy to his partner, a man he knows has also felt the sting of a childhood of solitude - though perhaps a fully grown man will be less enthusiastic about the whole ordeal than a plucky twelve year old. 

either way, he’s prepared a nice meal for the two of them, bought the good sake, and has a gift, too. he’s relieved when kakashi makes it to his apartment on time ( and not half-dead from his latest mission ), and he greets him with a small parcel wrapped up in brown paper. it’s nothing extravagant, a framed photograph of the pair, one that iruka loves. in it, he’s smiling and laughing at something kakashi has just whispered in his ear and their arms are around each other’s waists, so deliriously happy they both don’t seem to notice the camera. like the gift, iruka aims for the evening to be nice and simple, nothing too overbearing or too big, but still special. 

oh, so this is how it’s going to be. iruka sighs, a deep and laboured sound. a hand comes up to run along the scar across his nose - a sign of annoyance, and surely one kakashi is painfully familiar with. ever pragmatic, iruka holds onto that annoyance, hopeful it can act as a suitable distraction from the other emotions kakashi’s little display is bringing to the surface. wandering eyes and thoughts and hands certainly won’t help either of them finish their work.

reading surely seems like a stretch of the imagination. it seems kakashi insists on playing innocent, in goading him into an argument of double-entendres. but iruka is not taking the bait, he’s determined not to. for both their sakes someone has to be the responsible one, and once again, the task has fallen to him. he makes a move to close the space between them, intent on removing the hokage from his perch himself.

but - tsk. tsk. make up your mind. he chiding, that lilt of his partner’s voice, it could drive him crazy ( with frustration? with desire? it seems they aren’t all that dissimilar for him ). and the stretch that accompanies it has his eyes roaming over kakashi’s body, well-toned, well-cherished by iruka. gaze lingers on the hemline where his shirt rides up to expose the skin along his waist. and, god damnit, iruka is staring.

                                      OF COURSE he was stuck with his less than stellar teammate while kakashi and sakura split off to do recon for their mission. although, if he had it his way he would have just liked to work alone. not that their sensei would ever let him, always prattling on about teamwork and the importance of relying on others around you. he scoffed, dragging the tip of his kunai through the dirt idly. brows knit in frustration, shooting a glare in the direction of the overly dramatic blonde.