#vocalcontrol

             And it’s not the most elaborate scheme, he must admit.  But taking into consideration his face was a mystery to a good portion of the students and many others, he supposes it isn’t terrible.

                            ”Hey --- You’re that kid from U.A, right?” hands absent from his body, visage shadowed by the hooded coat he wore; a bit oversized, and hanging loosely from his thin physique. 

je crois en toi.                                                                                   君を信じてる.

            THE DIFFUSED GREY LIGHT of the darkened sky pushes just enough light through a tiny slit of the dark curtains to make out the words on the page. there’s no air conditioning hum, no chatter of students outside your door, no godforsaken christmas carols floating in from the campus grounds. it’s just you, shinsou, & the dystopian world that lies within the volume cradled in your painted talons. 

               you had started reading the book reluctantly ( gothic literature is more your style ), but as each chapter passed, you found yourself more engrossed in the universe between the pages. a world divided by eternal conquest, upheld by an invisible authority that efficiently eliminated those who dared to defy them... certainly, there is horror in political conflict, which you could definitely appreciate. the faults of humanity & the fate of such a world never fail to fascinate you. 

               the faint sound of rustling breaks the silence, & your gaze flickers over to the source of the noise. it’s only shinsou, readjusting himself on the couch. ( you could have sworn his shoulders grazed by yours. ) his gaze, though still directed at the book, had begun to fade behind heavy eyelids. ( & then how lavender flickers up at you, so readily, as if jolted from a dream. ) 

            it takes you a minute to catch your breath ( hold it there, swallow your emotions into the depths of hell whence they came ) before you turn your gaze to shinsou in earnest. 

              ❛          WELL.     .     .     it     was     about     my     father.     my     first     one,     the     one     that     i     killed.          ❜     she     was     tired     and     a     sobbing     mess,     she     didn’t     realise     what     she     was     sharing     out     loud.     but     she     wanted     to     talk     about     what     her     dream     was,     since     it’s     been     a     recurring     one.     ❛          MY     MOTHER     gave     me     my     first     scar     after     that,     and     just     the     screaming     and     the     pain.     .     .     it     felt   all     too     real.          ❜

           ; IT REALLY MUST BE DESTINY that he keeps running into UA brats. ( ah, but wait, this one isn’t in the hero course. a brainwashing quirk, huh? that had potential... Tomura should introduce himself...! ) Out of his usual villain attire, instead wearing a hoodie and a face mask, he shoves his hands in his pockets and casually approaches.  ( Kurogiri would scold him for this, but Kurogiri’s not here right now, so whatever. )

This kid had a face. Like, a weird face. He was giving off an evil-not-evil vibe. Gently used evil, if you will. The ‘I’ve jaywalked in front of police’, ‘I eat Kit-Kats from the side instead of breaking the pieces off’ brand of evil. Huh. Must be the eye-bags.. 

“We gonna try this again or you just gonna stare at me?     C’mon kid, I don’t have all day. What do you want?”

He rested his hands on his leather-clad hips and purposefully spread out his legs so he had to lean over to meet Shinsou eye to eye. The way his eyebrow was perked meant he wasn’t playing around, but there was a certain air around the villain that always seemed less than serious. 

❝ a lot of people curse, everyone does it, an example would be katsuki, but . . ❞―inko would cross her arms, brow furrowing as she glanced to the side. she didn’t look angry, but she didn’t look happy.