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my tags no like half of my blogs are broken so we just gonna try to unbreak ‘em all
@cursedintent
RICHARD SIKEN SENTENCE STARTERS / ❝You still get to be the hero.❞
like a thousand locust, there’s a low hum in his ears. they devour behind his eyes. eat, eat, eat. and, well, at least his broken flesh is useful for something. ( it wasn’t useful for loving, for tending. ) his cheeks ripening sick redgold, blending with the angry scar across his face. this hero speaks like how his mother pours tea, both comforting and unnerving. shoto thinks he can even hear a kettle whistle. “ what bullshit. “ his voice is like leaves in autumn, crunching under feet. dying for winter. “ there’s nobody for me to save now. “ furled angels beneath his tongue / furious.
“ what goddamned bullshit. “ him a hero! he can let down people just like religion — god — let him down. crunch the bones of those needing saved between his teeth and let them see how redemption looks from the back of his throat.
he hopes it’s pitch - black.
Shinsou hands over a pair of keys, harmless in nature but terrifying in actuality. It opens his apartment complex and flat. " I know it's kinda lame for a birthday gift, but I figured you could stop by whenever and I'd make dinner to compensate. You could meet my cat or whatever. " / that one college au
it’s my birthday | happy birthday, kirishima !!
the keys in his palm are so heavy that he can’t even focus on the rest of what is coming out of shinsou’s mouth. just a key might be a lame birthday gift, but keys to places usually aren’t lame. it’s definitely not a car key, and it doesn’t look like a key to a safe or anything, so logically it has to be an apartment key.
he received an apartment key for his birthday.
he received an apartment key to shinsou’s apartment for his birthday.
even if he wanted to focus on what they were saying he wouldn’t have been able to, because getting an apartment key from someone you’re dating is a BIG deal. not a big enough deal that he’s scared enough to run away, maybe nervous he’s never been in a serious relationship like this. he can come by at any time.
"wow, shit. i love you?” kirishima’s voice is so quiet that he barely even realizes he’s said what he was thinking outloud, but he HAS and he can’t take it back. his cheeks brighten a few shades of pink that shouldn’t be considered natural for anyone. “i mean, what. yes! i would love to meet your cat.” he blurts out, trying to save the moment. even leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.
happy birthday, teammate.
IT’S THE BIRTHDAY BOY 🎉 / AC. | @cursedintent
“ AH! “ it’s just a simple wish, but it means a lot coming from the guy who declared he wasn’t here to make friends. an arm reaches out and slings over shinsou’s shoulders as kirishima laughs. “ thanks man! “
happy birthday, kirishima. i hope it's a good one.
it’s my birthday | happy birthday, kirishima !!
it surprises him just a bit, as he hears the voice of shinsou hitoshi from the general studies department — mostly because: one, he’s mentioned multiple times that he hates their guys, secondly kirishima only seems to annoy him whenever they end up meeting, and three, well three when being friends with bakugou he makes enemies for you. but. BUT.
kirishima’s face lights up, a smile forming regardless of whatever might have happened in the past. “whoa, man! thanks! i’ll definitely make it a good one!” both his hands turn into fists in front of him. he’d heard from mina that they were going to throw him a birthday party, but he wasn’t supposed to know.
“hey!” the red head reaches out and slings an arm over the others shoulder, immediately dragging them in the direction of the class 1-a dorms. “my friends are throwing me a surprise party! you should totally come! let’s go!”
🎎
soft affection meme | accepting
🎎 sit close enough to brush knees/lean against yours
the purple yellow glow from the neon sign above their table casts an interesting glow on their hair, making the purple of theirs darker and the baby blue of hers look almost like his. the few tables are them are crowded with people — her friends.
it was probably unfair to drag him along with her, throwing him into the metaphorical lions den with the voices booming in from all around them. the roller rink was always crowded on a friday night, but with the group of them it seems ever more so. he’s only met a handful of them, and it seems even to her that there are new faces popping up. friends of friends.
nejire’s hands are curled around the cool glass of her milkshake, most of the whipped cream melted into the drink, the cherry stem, tied on a napkin beside it. she’d been in the middle of a conversation with a new face when shinsou’s body heat becomes more apparent to her. without taking her eyes off of the girl she’s speaking with she lets her body tell her all the places that his is touching hers.
knees. thighs. hips. side. biceps. shoulder blade.
the space around them starts to get smaller as the roller rink fills up with more people. being surrounded by unfamiliar people, who are anything but quiet is a lot, she knows. not everyone is loud and boisterous and ready to meet new people as she is. this. her. can be a lot.
the leg that’s closest to him peels away from the plastic of the seat beneath her, immediately she wishes she’d worn pants, or at least tights with her dress, and rests itself on top of shinsou’s leg. a small comfort. i’m here. in a situation where she can’t utter those words. her tennis shoe clad foot knocks gently against his shin. we can leave if you want.
her elbow displaces itself from where it’d wedged between their bodies and instead rests itself over the crease of his, her conversation never breaking with the new face. her skin feels warm, however, tingly in a way she doesn’t think she’d ever felt before.
@cursedintent
dig a grave for himself. claw those demons in the mud. lick the dirt under his nails, he’ll give you the earth. give you an orchid and dig his index finger into the soft curves of those petals and tear them open wide, because he’s rabid, he’s a goddamned poltergeist. got blood dripping out his nose and he licks it up because he likes the taste. there’s a bruise on his cheek and he presses his head harder against the table, rubbing the pain, nursing the hurt, child reared on poison. his blood smears across the table, dries on his cheeks, lips. he wants to gouge his tongue open and spit, something satisfying about fucking up this too white interrogation room, tugging so hard at the handcuffs, his hands turn blue, bulbous vein glands. cut them open.
[ 📲 • sms ] —— sweet dreams….with me in them 😉 jk
text messages // accepting
[ 📲 • sms ] —— !!!![ 📲 • sms ] —— !!!!!!