Todoroki thinks he and Izuku have been dating since the sports festival. He knows that they are not very demonstrative and there were no specific big declarations of love or official 'asking eachother out', but they didn't need that. It was obvious. There is no reason to question it and so he doesn't. He's very happy and secure in this relationship and feels very fulfilled
During 2nd year someone is talking in front of him about 'We all know Deku is in love with Bakugou. Its so obvious.'
Todoroki thinks about this for a little bit before announcing to Izuku (very casually, while they are doing homework) That its okay with him if Izuku wants to date Bakugou
Izuku: (is very moved by his best friends support and uses his encouragement to finally confess his feelings to Bakugou)
Todoroki: (now thinks he is in a poly thrupple with Izuku and Bakugou)
"but wouldnt he be able to tell once they leave school?"
NO because they are all roommates
"But wouldnt he notice Izuku doesnt kiss or have sex with todoroki but he does it with bakugou?"
NO because todoroki believes that the relationship is asexual on their side (but highly romantic and passionate) and hes cool with that.
"Wouldnt izuku notice?"
izuku has never known how normal people interact a single day in his life
"wouldnt bakugou get jealous?"
Bakugou ALSO thinks they are all poly
"why would he think that???"
because he ALSO thought todoroki and deku started dating during the sports festival
"oh so todoroki and bakugou have talked about it, thats why they are both so convinced!"
no. never. not once
"But wouldnt he notice that he sleeps alone?"
NO because todoroki is the perfect sleeping partner and he sleeps in the middle
"does Izuku ever find out?"
Yes, when hes like 25. A stranger mentions that hes well known for being in a poly thrupple and Izuku thinks they are insane. He goes home and realizes that apparently HE is the insane one and vows to never let on that he didn't know. 10 years after he started dating todoroki they finally have their first kiss. Todoroki is completely chill about it.
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*Deidara in Sasori’s room after returning from a mission with Hidan*
Deidara: … and then he said I was being a dumbass but HE was being a dumbass, Danna! I only blew the bodies up I didn’t go back and do that super-long sacrifice thing to them! Oh and THEN Hidan said that I —
Sasori: Deidara. Please. You’ve been going on about this for an hour, now. How about you focus that energy of yours on something else, mm?
Deidara, pouting: Like what?
Sasori: *holds out a puppets head to him* This one is about ready for painting. Would you like to do the honors?
Deidara: *sighs as he takes the head* Okay …
*the two work quietly side by side for awhile, Sasori fitting together parts and Deidara painting*
Sasori: *glancing at Deidara* You know, you do some beautifully detailed work, when you want to. Have you ever thought about painting any of your sculptures?
Deidara, blushing slightly: N-no. It would be kinda a waste since I’m just gonna explode them anyway, hm.
Sasori: Perhaps you have a point. Well, regardless, I appreciate your help now. *looks at the clock* It’s almost midnight.
Deidara: So?
Sasori: Did you know that it’s New Year’s Eve tonight?
Deidara: It is?? Wow; I completely forgot, hm.
Sasori: *sets down his puppet* Dei. Is there anything that you’d like from me in the new year? Any expectations you might have for me, or our relationship?
Deidara: Why are you asking?
Sasori: Sometimes I feel like I ask too much from you, without offering you anything of value in return.
Deidara: Sasori, you give me yourself in return. That’s enough for me. I don’t have any “expectations” for us. Well, except for one.
Sasori: Which is?
Deidara: I’d like to be kissed more often. And kissed like you mean it; not a kiss when you’re trying to get me out of your hair or when something else is on your mind and you’re distracted. I want —
*the clock strikes midnight and Sasori takes Deidara’s face between his hands and gives him a soft, tender kiss*
Sasori: Like that?
Deidara, blushing hard, teasing: T-that was terrible. Something else is on your mind, isn’t it?!
Sasori: Ah, you caught me. I was thinking … about you in my bed. My apologies that my kiss reflected my distraction. *gestures to the bed* Perhaps you’d allow me to make it up to you? I promise I’ll give your entire body my full, undivided attention. *stares at him intently*
Deidara:
Deidara: … only you could make something romantic sound so scary, hm.
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各位蓮絡人們,新年快樂! it's been a slower winter holiday for me, but to start off the continued MLC brainrot in 2024, have a draft snippet with di feisheng's thoughts from a fic i'm chipping away at (inspired by @redemption-revenge's ideas on difang and archivist!fang duobing).
the first thing one might note if they were to enter the imperial archives of the great xi, housed in an unassuming wing of the palace grounds, is that they are far too dark. the windows, grand and admirable as they are in an effort to capture the sun, are not enough to illuminate the rows upon rows of shelves taller than any man. fit to be a forest they are, books, scrolls, coiled slips of bamboo lay stacked upon each. some neatly, others in haphazard formations to the side of an aisle or path, no resting place designated for them yet. the records all fall in as one, draped in shadow save for those in reach of the carefully set lanterns and candles.
these lights— poor but determined substitutes for that of the day— flicker disturbed by one's passing in otherwise still air, and perhaps that is the second thing to notice: that any breeze serves only to push around dust and the scent of old paper. other open, towering libraries and halls of learning are far more renowned, where one may enter and seek out like minds, or some to hear new theories from. archives such as this, important though they are for the dynasty's repository of knowledge, are to too many considered tedious. they house no great collections of classics or poetry, in lieu of concerning themselves with careful records and documentation. the average scholar would consider this building unworthy of visit, unless someone required a history on some person, or village, or particular official collation of such and such event. it is evidenced in the isolated sound of creaking shelves, the steps of only a few individuals in the entirety of the complex. this deserted quiet would be the third thing.
all that di feisheng's attention rests on, however, is the form of fang duobing.
he darts between cramped bookcases with ease, strides down aisles guided by instinct over senses. there is none of the carefree, ceaseless monologue to his presence, only his footfalls on stone, and so di feisheng is left with nothing but to trace his steps through this labyrinth in matched silence. for all that he'd met di feisheng for the first time in years with words chosen by purpose, not impulse, fang duobing had never struck him as one to keep his thoughts tucked away inside his head.
what happened to the young master with a voice of unwary privilege, making himself known to anyone who could listen? it took him too long to recognize fang duobing by the river's edge the day before, silent and solitary, the two of them studying one another for a frozen moment like any two strangers on the roads of the jianghu.
somewhere in the time gone by, cut by two paths of grief diverging, di feisheng missed the time that wore away fang duobing's rougher edges. not only with the learned hold to his tongue; the man before him stands taller, more confidence sketched in the fall of his walk and the grip of erya in one hand. if i gave you ten years, di feisheng told him once, you would be able to parallel me. in some ways, measured in more than their weapons, perhaps fang duobing has already risen to his level.
the same constant of a ponytail springs with each step, though. something still boyish hangs about him, as fang duobing's silhouette disappears around corners of this endless hall.
something once-familiar on a different figure, and so all too abruptly, between one instant and the next does the image of fang duobing blur into another.
this reunion between two of them should have a third, yet like the portrait that still hangs in baichuanyuan, an image unchanging, all they have is the recollection of how he walked away. seven years, and still unfound. seven years gone, left for somewhere no one could follow, and di feisheng tried to anyway but all he achieved is that now even fang duobing walks ahead (too far; when did di feisheng's footsteps falter?) and once is a joke, twice is shame, third is—
"老笛,你還在嗎?" fang duobing's boots scuff to a stop, and di feisheng blinks, illusion shattered. "we're almost there."
no, he isn't li xiangyi. it would be unjust of di feisheng to think otherwise.
back then, he never believed fang duobing could stand where li xiangyi once did, either. how time wears down the blade of a remark once-sharp, turned to something that could be almost merciful in how fang duobing looks back at him. equal parts concern, and curiosity.
"我在," di feisheng says, returned to the present, and fang duobing carries on.
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I woke up super early this morning to take my cat to the vet before work because she has been sick with a kitty cold these last few days. She had been getting better the last few days but I still wanted to take her a precaution, you know? She wasn't 100%.
I get up today her little ass is fine. She's vocal, chomped down treats, played with me, rubbed against me, etc. So I was like well damn OK I will cancel the appt.
But now I am wired before work and I am convinced she did this all as a ploy to get me to write more because I have been burnt out these last few days asdfghjkl thank her for my next fic.
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