S T R A Y
shipping meme
Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival.
These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too.
But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it.
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- ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?
- ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.
- ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any
- ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.
- ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.
- ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.
- sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —
- ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.
- sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.
- sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.
- ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.
- ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.
- ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?
- ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.
- ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.
- ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is
- ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?
- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.
- ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.
- ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.
- ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.
- ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.
- ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.
- ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.
- ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.
- ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.
- ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
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sneaks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2017-10-22 07:48 pm
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... If you'd like to touch it.
It's sensitive, but it doesn't hurt if you're not forceful.
[He trusts Aizawa to be capable of great caution, more than brutish force.]
It had been re-opened during the fight with Nomu; just my luck, right?
[He doesn't mind the inspection, if it's something Aizawa's not disturbed by. It's a big part of his body, the root cause of why he is the way he is. It'd be weird to deny that part of him to someone who was now sleeping in his bed -- yeah, he was okay with it. He clears his throat after a hearty pause.]
I can't let you see it, right now.
[His voice lowers, admittance like defeat.]
... I can't really look at it, myself, most of the time.
[He accepts what's happened, accepts that he's quirkless again, but...
It's just different, when someone you love faces a body you greatly dislike.]
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[It gave him time to adjust to it, as well. When he did see it, he'd have to take every care not to flinch or give Toshinori any reason to hate it more. He could get used to it pieces by piece.]
[With Toshinori's approval, he slips his hand other the other's shirt, quickly making contact with the heavily scarred skin. A bit of skin is exposed by the movement but Shouta doesn't look. His eyes are trained on the older man's face, which could be embarrassing in its own way. He starts to trace his hand up, fingers stretching over the expansive scar as if to make a map of it in his mind.]
[There was a lot to map.]
[So he makes sure to brush against every dip, finding ridges in it that seemed to lead up into a crater of a wound. It felt a bit like a shattered window where, if he were cruel enough to put pressure on it, it would creak and fall apart. So every movement is slow, deliberate, and gentle in its own way. It was analytical, but not cold, the way a scholar deals with a well-worn book. He loses track of time, a little, just feeling the other's scarred skin, finding an outline to it, and forming an image in his mind. The extent of it is obvious, when Shouta's arm is almost entirely up the other's shirt, the scar tissue of his elbow brushing against that radiating wound.]
[He glances down, only slightly, to confirm the position of his hand tenting up the other's shirt. Like it or not, that information would come back to him looking at Toshinori in a suit, or a hospital gown, that there it was, carefully hidden. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath.]
... I think I underestimated how lucky you were to be alive. [He mumbles. Shouta traces over the pectoral muscle- or at least where it should be.] And yet you're still sorry for mine... [There's a small, perhaps self-deprecating smile.]
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I can't say I'd disagree... Nobody had thought I'd survive the night, at the time.
[He slides his arms around Shouta, pulling him so close, their bodies are pressed warmly.]
Aaa... but just because I'm hard to kill doesn't mean I want to see anyone else in pain, y'know.
[Especially not you, you fool.]
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I've forgotten most of the pain. [He shakes his head a little, dismissively. Certain things were just too painful for the body to forget. It was locked away in the brain, enough to make little aches and pains seem worth complaining about again. A human wasn't built to process that much pain.]
Although, it was really irritating to go about my business with all those bandages. And Mic forcing me to commentate... [he grumbles, as if it were reasonable to complain about that when he could have died. All the while he traces small circular patterns over the other's scar, mapping and thinking.]
... I do remember parts, though. I remember negotiating with my body, "Just let me move a bit more." "Just let me open my eyes one more time." "Whatever happens after that is fine." [As much as he would criticize Toshinori for how he wore himself down, in that moment he was the exact same. He wasn't afraid of dying then, what he was really scared of was..]
... I never thanked you properly. [his hand stills] For saving the students.
[Or himself.]
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Your thanks is not necessary; I'm a hero, too, after all. But careful -- you'll start to sound like me. [A pause, as he shifts to wrap his leg around Shouta's. They're short compared to his, which is funny, considering the other man's still taller than an average human.] ... It's easy to get lost in the cause, especially when you care with your entire body and soul.
After all, you love your class.
[He has such an impish little smile.]
You're the one who saved them, in the end. I wouldn't have been able to do anything if you didn't defend them first.
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Just shut up and accept it. [He half-kicks at the other under the sheets, which is rather useless when they're so entangled. Done tracing the front of the scar, he drags his hand over the other's side to rest on the back.]
If I get credit for saving them, you undeniably saved me. [There was no one reasonable in that bunch of villains. Once his strength gave out and he was no longer fun to play with he would have been unceremoniously ground into the dirt, face first. He was another person that was alive thanks to the Symbol of Peace. He won't risk sounding even more like Toshinori by saying something corny like "my hero." He wasn't some lovestruck fan, he was a lovestruck equal.]
... I'm trying to praise you, idiot... [And he buries his face in the space between Toshinori's chest, now just a petulant mess of bedhead.]
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Your praise is with a whole decades worth, with how hard it is to get! I'm rejuvenated! I already feel All Might's powers returning to me from the sheer strength behind your words...!!
[He holds up his hand and makes a huah! noise, an All Might-sized arm pointed up proudly at the ceiling, straining to keep appearance.]
I'm reborn!!
[oh my god he's mocking himself, lookit that]
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[There's a quick movement of his fingertips and he searches for the edge of scarred skin, finally dips onto the normal smooth, skin and jabs his finger there as a punishment. It's the equivalent of a forehead flick, like something to say "cut it out," the instinctive way he reacts to it. It's not like he hates it, though. That sort of over-dramatic flair was a part of the package.]
[Although... He can match the comically exaggerated response. That unruly mess of hair flares up, floating a bit in the air, and even though his face is hidden one can tell his eyes are red. After a second, though, it abruptly stops and Shouta pulls back from their one-genre-change-away-from-a-fusion cuddle. There's a pause.]
... eye drops. [That's why. He'll finally slip his arm back out from under the other's shirt, pulling it back to rub his eyes irritably. He'd sort of forgotten what a pain it was to use his quirk so soon after waking up. He doesn't seem to be moving, though. Maybe the comment was less of an explanation and more of an order.]
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He sits up quickly, looking around for Shouta's uniform while his body screams its mild protest; his joints are always stiff as hell in the morning, a cough bubbling up as he stands up like an old man, hand on the dresser and motions looking particularly routine. It's a little cold, and he's already decided he's going to need to find his heating pad -- something he usually does behind closed doors, though he figures if Shouta knew about his fanmail, he'd have snooped enough to find the equipment he's build up an arsenal for by now.]
... Eye drops, eye drops...
[He mumbles it mostly to himself, a determined furrow to his brow as he seeks out the man's supplies. Because Toshinori can't do anything half-heartedly.]
Ah, got it! Over here...
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[Within reason. Maybe. If he couldn't look, he at least wanted to touch.]
[Impure thoughts aside, it was probably a bit mean to make Toshi go get them. Still, the way he just does it, treating it as importantly as anything else, makes a small smile form on Shouta's lips. And he said he felt fulfilled helping others, right? He could give minor, easy-to-satisfy orders like that while taking care of the important things himself. Not that getting his eyedrops right this minute wasn't world-endingly important. He blinks and it goes so slowly, please help him, All Might, he needs you.]
My hero. [he says, flatly, holding his hand out expectantly.]
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I don't know, Shouta-kun... I might become a villain!
Then who'll give you the eye drops?
[He's in a particularly good mood; usually not the case for him, in the morning. If he's honest. Usually it's just aches and pangs and him being lost in his own thoughts until he can meet Shouta in the living room and kitchen. Now, he's aches and pangs and Shouta in his bed. Big difference. He can't help but be a little happy, even if his joints complain.]
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[Still, it would be nicer if he didn't joke about highly serious matters like eye drops.]
I'd get them from you one way or another. [He doesn't move, though, not even making a token grab for the out-of-reach salvation.]
... and considering you know what I do to villains, [he's still covering one eye petulantly, he'll still smile a bit, half-concealed by his arm.] I'd call you a masochist, again. [He curls the fingers of his extended hand a little in a small, twitchy gesture that either says "Give them now, please," or "I could get up and pin you at any second."]
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I guess if I'd want anyone to tie me up...
[God, don't finish that, he thinks. He sits down on the edge of the bed fully and carefully gives the eye drops to Aizawa, turning is back for just a moment to him to knead his low back with his thumbs -- trying and failing not to groan a little. Schedule, schedule... Hot shower, medication, dressing, breakfast. It suddenly seems far less enjoyable compared to laying around in bed with Shouta. Aaa, he can't go turning into some lazybones teacher now.]
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Masochist. [said harmlessly, as if it were just another observation like Toshinori's hair color or eye color. He shifts up to sitting so he can safely tilt his head up for one drop, two drops... the world gets a little less painful to look at. slowly, other thoughts about the day pile in, like what time it was or what he should be doing. He blinks a few times, letting the relief set in. Much better. As much as the morning and their time together was special...]
You should shower. [He presses a hand, softly, against the other's back.] If you look disheveled at work today, Hizashi's going to assume all sorts of things, you know. []
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I think he'll probably assume plenty anyway, but... good plan.
[He almost invites Shouta to join him. Almost.
But then he remembers what he looks like under the sweats and shirt, and his confidence flounders.]
I'll be back. Try not to end up sleeping somewhere else in the house while I'm gone.
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I'll try. [Sharing a shower wasn't a good plan for work days anyways. The hours for teaching were less flexible than hero work. It doesn't stop him from idly following Toshinori with his eyes as he goes, thinking about it. Some other time, maybe.]
[The idea of just staying in bed is far less appealing with the blond man out of it, though. Shouta will pull himself out after a few more sluggish minutes. He'll busy himself with some early-morning stretches. It's nothing new for their shared time at the apartment. Some mornings, if he wasn't sitting on the couch as if he'd never settled down to sleep, Toshinori would exit the bedroom to find him in the middle of some absurd set of push-ups. It's nothing so intense this morning, just something to pass the time and work any lingering stiffness out of his own limbs.]
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He comes out with his suit pants and undershirt already on (dressing in front of Shouta is too much, too much already, okay -- he can't), and stops for a moment to stare at the exercising man. It's a, um, a uh -- a good look. A really good look. He's also kind of jealous he has the capacity to do any of those push-ups, because he used to do those. Maaan.
... It's... nice... to watch... Shouta... though...
Sorry, he's staring a little. A lot. Now that he's allowed, instead of averting his gaze carefully.]
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[He's not surprised when he turns and see Toshinori staring, of course. He heard the door. He's just wondering if it was really so interesting to watch. In certain ways, he could be very predictable. In moments like that, though, he wouldn't have a clue if he was just admiring it or actually having any impulses. There was that aspect of puppy love to it, yet... they were two grown men. Ah, well, communication. Communication about that could wait, considering they had work.]
Ah, there. You look presentable. [It's technically a compliment. He'd always enjoy tired, casual Toshinori more for being something that's for his eyes only. This had its own charms, though, as he gently pats a hand against that shirt that actually fits right. He'll close the space between them and, there it is again, that quick and casual "down here" gesture. Talking about scars had stopped them from having a proper "good morning" kiss before.]
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When the kiss is broken, he smiles a little.]
I hope so... I spent way too much on clothes that actually fit now.
[It's weird to know he'll never really be what he was.
Or rather, even if he wanted to indulge in that split second of All Might form, he'll just ruin all his clothes.
So... best to just not.]
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[He'd never say anything like he missed this feeling, but... maybe his heart was a bit needier than he acknowledged.]
It was worth every penny. [Not only were the clothes nice, they were a part of that mourning process. The idea that, even if he could snap back to that form, it didn't exactly match where his life was now.]
Well, [pulling his hand back,] I'll shower now. [And, since he doesn't have nearly Toshinori's level of body complex, he'll be pulling off his shirt as he goes. He doesn't pause or linger so his back isn't visible long but there are the mess of small, pale scars that could be felt earlier.]
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He focuses on a less grave loss. That is, the loss of a shirt, and he can't help but stare at that also. He's almost envious... no, he's definitely envious, that someone could wear scars so handsomely. That they could be a sign of strength and — and look cool. Shiny, soft, but just a little jagged across well-shaped muscle. Scars can be attractive, one of the first-year girls had told him back when he was starting at the academy. Scars can be pretty — 'hot'. Must be why he can't stop looking at Shouta's back as he leaves.]
I'll — um. I'll make dinner. I mean breakfast! I'll make breakfast. Yeah.
[He walks oh-so-gracefully out the bedroom door.
Stupid bone-deep crushes. Stupid feeling like a teenager again.]
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[Still, he's pleased. He's pleased for his body to not get that sad, remorseful reaction when it came to scars and injuries. That's another change that's not so easily driven home by a change of clothes or something. Sometime, he thinks, idly rubbing the scar over his elbow, he wants them to be even on the idea of who is protecting who.]
[For someone who takes naps all over, Shouta doesn't take too long in the shower. Maybe it's that weird edge of frugality he showed here and there. Maybe it was just illogical to waste water. Maybe he was part cat and only barely tolerated getting wet.]
[So, with less time to get stuck in thoughts about hot scars and new, young boyfriends, Shouta will be back, once again concealed by drab, black, slightly loose clothes. There are still a few things he needs to attach to make his hero outfit complete, including the capture cloth that still lay abandoned. That could be done after some important boyfriend-watching. Or breakfast, whatever.]
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A box of All Might cereal brand cereal, sitting on the counter.
Okay, okay, Toshinori also made toast and egg and soup for Mr. Eraserhead (the simplest, quickest, 'most logical'), but he'd gotten a damn near lifetime supply of the stuff from the company who'd made it — so he tends to snack on them when he thinks he can handle that kind of sugar, no milk, casual as he reads the paper. It's not particularly convenient or healthy-looking, but you gotta live a little, right? Instead of oogling Shouta, he's staring with a furrowed, pensive brow at what he's reading.
He's apparently deeply interested in it, and it's clear to see why — CRIME ON THE RISE, 3% INCREASE SINCE ALL MIGHT'S RETIREMENT: WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?? Among other little headliners and opinion pieces. It's been an ongoing torture game, with Toshi: read the paper, see everything he could have helped to prevent, see what he's failing to fix, failing to support, and recycle. He tries not to... actually vocalize any of this, but the proof's in the pudding.]
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[He's distracted with pointless things again. Although, really, Shouta knew it wasn't pointless. He felt his own tinges of guilt, especially to be relaxing and enjoying himself so much. Still, whatever he felt was probably on a far less grand scale. His back-alley patrols weren't going to bring down that 3%. That was something outside his reach and now it was outside of Toshinori's, as well. He just didn't have the baggage of once being able to.]
[Well, that furrowed brow was going to ruin his appetite. That had to be fixed first. Really, any way of making his presence known should work, either through Toshi actually being pleased to see him or realizing he needed to cover up with a smile. He didn't need to do something excessive.]
[He'd maybe do something a bit excessive. Sort of like how a cat interrupts its owner by getting in front of the offending paper, there's the sudden weight of a pair of arms on Toshinori's shoulders. The one good thing about the other's ridiculous height is how, with him sitting, Shouta didn't have to lean down too far to hug him. It's a bit stiff, for a moment, before he's able to relax into it with a clear intention:]
I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I. ["Hey, pay attention to me. Me."]
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It makes him want to change form and leap into action.
Only, the embers are all but extinguished. There's not much left within him, and it makes him feel weak. Stupidly. He knows it's a foolish thing, to see it as weakness when all things must plateau, and when strength comes in so many colors... but his were so specific... Aaah, midlife crisis, how he didn't want you.]
Sorry, Shouta-kun....!!
[He shuffles the paper quickly, trying to find a better article that isn't just him mourning the loss of his power.]
But look here! There's a train station nearby with a cat for a station master.
It's pretty cute, isn't it?
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