“It can’t be that difficult,” Shōta snorts. “You have clearly never tried to apply nail polish before,” Hizashi says flatly, giving Shōta an unimpressed look.

It's been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn't Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

Sharing an apartment with Todoroki was great 99% of the time, but the other 1% was Midoriya getting walked in on jerking off before he'd even managed to get his hero costume off after work.

“I already told you, I’m not gonna break, you don’t have to go slow.” “What if I want to, though?” Kirishima murmurs quietly. “What if I wanna take my time with you?” Bakugou shivers.

“It’s just not manly to leave your bro like this, after knowing he can’t do anything about it, you know?” Kirishima blabbers some kind of bullshit excuse, and the worst part is that it looks like he’s totally convinced of it. “It’s just a— handjob,” he stumbles over the word, the weight of what he’s proposing hitting him all at once, but he doesn’t stop. “—but if you're not into it we can pretend I didn't just say that.” Bakugou has to restrain himself from saying that he’s very much into it. Like, a lot, really. a.k.a Kirishima learns the reason behind Bakugou's grumpiest days, and he offers to help because that's what best bros do.

Mirio's always been enchanted by the luminescent displays of firefly squid coming to the surface of the water to spawn this time of year—who wouldn’t be? But last week was when he’d realized they’re edible, and he’d begged Tamaki to try. Tamaki had refused. Hero training is bad enough, with such a monstrous, inhuman quirk, he’d said. Let’s not go out of our way to make it worse. Mirio had dropped the subject and assumed that was the end of that. But it’s definitely a tiny, pickled squid that Tamaki pulls from the box, his throat bobbing as he swallows it whole.

“You scored very highly—” “As fuckin’ usual.” “—but your interpersonal skills are still unbelievably low. If you are going to be a pro hero you need to be capable of working on a team—sometimes even one composed of people you don’t like.” Aizawa seemed to have roused himself from the edge of sleep long enough to impart this wisdom to Blasty. “Whatever. Just tell me what I’m doing.” Bakugou didn’t seem very moved. Mina thought one might need a backhoe to achieve such a thing. Aizawa zipped himself up in his sleeping bag. “Go around the classroom and give everyone an honest compliment.”

Midoriya jokingly says, "Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just want to go apeshit?" Everyone's too focused on Iida telling him off for swearing to notice Shouto in his corner of the lunch table, mulling over his words. He is tired of being nice. He does want to go apeshit. Or: the one where Todoroki Shouto finds his personality, bit by bit, through the power of memes and friendship. (background momojirou; tsuchako, shinkami, kiribaku if you squint)

Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has: A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

Kaminari walks up to Todoroki in the hallway after class and says, “Dude, I need your help.” Todoroki checks over his shoulder, twice, to verify that Kaminari is indeed talking to him. “Why?” “Yesterday you asked Shinsou-kun if he was Aizawa-sensei’s son,” Kaminari says, as though that explains anything at all. “...yes?” “Make a hero conspiracy YouTube channel with me.”

“Bakugou?” Bakugou shuffled on his feet, hovering over Kirishima and looking at the ground with stormy eyes. He glanced up to glare at Kirishima, a silent dare to call him out on his odd behavior no doubt. Kirishima forced himself not to tense. Whatever Bakugou wanted, he was about to show him and Kirishima had to get this right. Bakugou was all about showing and not telling. Kirishima nearly bit his tongue to keep in a squawk of surprise when Bakugou suddenly dropped to his knees next to him, shuffling forward until he could press his forehead to his thigh and hide his face against Kirishima's leg. Kirishima opened his mouth, questions on the tip of his tongue, and he barely managed to catch them before they could be given voice. Bakugou was trembling minutely, his entire frame so tense his muscles were twitching under Kirishima's gaze. “Just. Don't say anything,” Bakugou muttered, hands clenching in his lap tightly. “Please,” he whispered, a short choked sound.

“No.” It’s a fair response. “And you found him because…?” An even better response. Hawks isn’t in the mood to answer it though. “I heard a cry; I was first on scene.” Naomasa nods and everyone else buys the tale. They’re all looking at one thing only. Specifically, the A-Rank villain known as Dabi who is, for all intents and purposes, currently five years old. aka, Dabi is turned into a child and suddenly turns a lot more talkative, leading to some (possibly unwanted) revelations.

Sir Nighteye's quirk was a deeply useful one, with a rich history of helping solve cases, assist investigations and offer support to friends and acquaintances. It was, absolutely, not intended to be misused and abused for something like this. "Can you explain why you’ve seen fit to consort with villains?” “Consorting? I’m not-” “Okay, fine.” Mirai huffed, impatient. “Why are you fucking villains-” Hawks made a noise like a car trying to restart. This was going well. (In which Nighteye survives, inadvertently discovers a conspiracy, emotionally adopts a small child and an utter dipshit, and fights the Hero Commission in hand to hand combat...completely by accident)

“What’s got you so jumpy, hero?” Dabi sneers, and Hawks answers him. “I got hit with a truth Quirk.” Hawks swiftly contemplates every decision that has gotten him to this moment, starting with his own birth, and regrets all of them. Dabi’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Day and Hawks is the present he’s been waiting all year to unwrap. “Really?” He purrs, “Well, isn’t that incredible.” ~~~ Hawks gets hit with a truth quirk right before a meeting with Dabi. Dabi thinks it'll be fun. It isn't.

“Give me an update, Nedzu,” Aizawa spits into his phone as he yanks the car door open, “What do we know?” “At around four o’clock today, the pro hero Hawks was doing an impromptu signing for fans when a member of the hate-group known as the Creature Rejection Clan pulled out a gun and shot into the crowd. Like any hero, Hawks took the bullet himself, rather than risk civilian injury.” “And how exactly did that lead him to kidnapping Tokoyami?” Or Hawks gets hit with Trigger and it brings out his bird instincts. Tokoyami is there for all of it.

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.

In which Aizawa brings an extra kid to mountain training camp, leaves his sleeping bag at school, and ends up sharing a futon with Yagi Toshinori for three agonizing nights before everything folds.

This is so not Hawks's day. Rumi is getting antsy with his stalling, frowning as the faint light that filters up to them puts a gleam in her eye. Hawks needs a plan fast, and one that will convince the League he's at least tried to play their side when they inevitably show up to see him and Rumi wrecking the absolute shit out of their pet monster. "Okay," Hawks says, "This is gonna sound real weird, but I need you to punch me in the face. It's for - " CRACK!

Izuku is de-aged and Dadzawa acts as if it's perfectly normal.

Dabi narrows his eyes. "Alright. Let's say you don't die. You still have a limited amount of blood, and a lack of blood flow or oxygen to your brain could probably cause permanent damage that even your immortality can't repair." "I'll stop you before that happens," Hawks says, with way more confidence than he has any right to have. "You have zero self-preservation instincts," Dabi has to point out. Hawks grins at him, shooting him finger guns. "So we doing this, or what?" ~ Dabi is a vampire who's never had human blood straight from the tap before. Hawks is a dumbass college student cursed with immortality. What could go wrong?

The window is open - Hawks can hear the sounds of the busy city thrumming below his penthouse apartment and the cool breeze fluttering the curtains. It feels almost magical to be here, bathed in warmth in the bedroom, only the moon and the low lights either side of the bed illuminating Dabi, staples glinting gold where they catch the light. He’s so very beautiful when he’s like this, breathing a little harder than usual, sweat making the high points of his cheeks glow. Hawks catches Dabi’s gaze as his fingers brush against his spot and he lets out a breathy moan. Dabi makes the same ‘come hither’ gesture, smirking - Hawks wants to drag him so close that their skin melts together and they become one person. He thinks he’d finally be content, then. Dabi pulls his fingers out with a sordid, wet squelch and Hawks wants to punch him instead.

This is so not Hawks's day. Rumi is getting antsy with his stalling, frowning as the faint light that filters up to them puts a gleam in her eye. Hawks needs a plan fast, and one that will convince the League he's at least tried to play their side when they inevitably show up to see him and Rumi wrecking the absolute shit out of their pet monster. "Okay," Hawks says, "This is gonna sound real weird, but I need you to punch me in the face. It's for - " CRACK!

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.