Xerantic

There was a whistle of amusement as he popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, holding it in his cheek as he spoke. “Someone’s getting daring — you really mean these weren’t just for me? I’m hurt.” If they were going to play this game, he could play all day. “How long did it take you to make all of these? You really went all out, didn’t you?” For the whole class? Shimura had a fragile heart and he was flashing it on his sleeve.

“It was my sister’s idea; I made them with her.” In honesty, he would have been lost without her instruction. Who knew making chocolate fudge was so complicated? At least her extracurricular culinary classes that Father insisted on were paying off in some way.

“I guess we got a little carried away...” he eyed the differing experimental designs on each piece, for each classmate. “But it’s not like it was a chore or anything. We just got creative.”

TAGGED BY: Yoinked from @hobakusho​ !​​​

bold the aesthetic that applies to your muse. repost. don’t reblog.

                             𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋.

tired eyes.  coffee stains on the table.  listening to the bustle of the city.  unmade beds. ponytails.  sunlight seeping through the curtains.  chapped lips.  walking barefoot across the floorboards.  dusty dictionaries.  black and white reruns.  huge sweaters.   the ticking of the clock.  hearing birds in the morning.  fireplaces.  falling asleep during class.

                            𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

freckles.  the sun rising.  watching the sea.  taking shots of the city.  historical museums.  bright eyes.  looking up at the clouds.  walls covered in artworks.  drawing in the middle of lessons.  tracing your fingers on the sand.  painting for hours.  staying in uncrowded coffee-shops.  worn paperbacks.  messy braids.   going to bed with your kneesocks on.

                             𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.

dark hair.  a little sophisticated.  always observing the world around you.   intricate designs.  high ceilings.  extravagant musical pieces.  dim lights.  colorless photographs.  fancy furniture.  pale skin.  hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room.  mischievous looks.  bitten nails.  candlelight dinners.  dark shades of lipstick.

                             𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.

chandeliers.  the clinking of a teacup mug.  laced clothing.  modern architecture.  light hair. watching the view from the terrace.  hidden birthmarks.  drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens.  old films.  ancient marble sculptures.  expensive perfume.  breakfasts in bed.  reading stories about mythology.

                             𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.

“I got hungry, and it gave me an idea.” Shimura cast the other a sheepish grin. He had to admit, though, he thought they turned out well. Missing limbs, plus green skin outline, ragged clothing, and a little bit of guts as icing details... Maybe it wasn’t as traditionally festive, but he had fun along the way. Got to snack and test out the taste before decorating them, two birds with one stone.

“Not going to deny the rest?” That was enough to satisfy him. He was kind of surprised he was really going to let all of that slide so easily — not even a little bite? “To some extent I guess realism is kind of joyless. Are you really going to try and tell me it isn’t?” Todoroki wasn’t going to argue that he preferred living in fairytales or whatnot with his head in the clouds but the faces of reality were often not very pretty. Did Shimura have a different view?

“The rest are subjective, and denying them would probably just make you more convinced.” It was like accusing him of being contrary; there’d be no way to protest without losing credibility. Todoroki probably just wanted him to get defensive anyway.

Shimura gave a snort at the other’s reply, teasing wryly. “Well, that says a lot about your life, doesn’t it. Now who’s being emo?” Still...it was actually a legitimate question, and Tenko gave it a moment of serious thought. Realism wasn’t the opposite of optimism; that was his stance from the start. But could he really deny real life gets pretty bleak...?

“Realism...is what it is. It’s the baseline. Everything else is measured by its difference from reality, and it can go both ways. Optimism is seeing things as better than they are, and pessimism is seeing them worse. So doesn’t that mean realism has some of everything? How would we even know what joy felt like if it wasn’t a part of reality?”

He understood fantasy and its diversion from the mundane as a purpose of escape, of course. He couldn’t deny indulging in that pastime himself; he enjoyed it quite a lot. So what was the difference? It wasn’t like he hated happy endings altogether, but why did the saccharine sappy epilogues in particular tend to bother him at times?

Tomura deliberately takes the string with all two working fingers of his left hand, sending the balloon, untethered, up to who-knows-where. Opens the tacky card with his other hand.

“What, no money?” Jokes.

It’s Tomura’s birthday today. ...Is he wearing a tiara?

If you don’t think a villain who has been exposed to the seedy underbelly of society since childhood, who is also an avid internet-goer, doesn’t know the ins and outs of sex, you’d be wrong.

Faintly I'll go To take this Head-on

Soon I'll come around Lost and never found Waiting for my words Seen but never heard Buried underground But I'll keep coming

Wipe those Tears off And make your ‘Pa proud

Soon I'll come around Lost and never found Waiting for my words Seen but never heard Buried underground But I'll keep coming

I'll keep coming I'll keep coming I'll keep coming