Thirtine

a stylized black cat with a bright red bandana for a collar



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    In a universe where you're born with your soulmates first words written on your wrist, there are complications for interdimensional travelers.

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    12 Sep 2019

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    Some people choose to tread carefully and partake in honest discussion to get their friends to accept help. Other people choose to secretly engage in a two-year war of attrition against the very concept of an ascetic lifestyle.

    Or, The Gang Redecorates Yusuke's Dorm Room.

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    03 Sep 2019

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    //

    Makoto wasn’t watching them, though. She was watching Ren, and she pressed her lips together thinly, all the sensors on her internal dashboard alerting. He turned in response to her stare, raising his eyebrows at her in a wordless question.

    “You have that look in your eyes,” she said flatly.

    “What look?”

    “That look that says you’re planning something. Possibly something illegal. Almost definitely something audacious.”

    “Absolutely I am,” Ren replied easily, leaning in. Ann and Ryuji followed suit, grinning; Makoto found herself swept along in the current, trying to hide a reluctant smile.

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    Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him.

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    17 Aug 2019

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    large, sprawling, and aching
    (Mal, Arthur, and everything that came after)

    //
    Arthur knows, and it hurts like a fist to the gut, that if he met Mal now, he wouldn't tell her she had beautiful shoes, and he'd never let her touch his pocket square. They wouldn't have gone to New York or gotten drunk off of shitty champagne and kissed, sat up late into the night with each other. They're such different people now, and Arthur spares a moment to be grateful that as they have changed, they've left room for each other; he doesn't know what he'd do otherwise.

    "Are you unhappy now?" Mal asks.

    Arthur smiles for her. "No, Mal," he promises. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

    She looks unconvinced, but Arthur is telling the truth.

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    This is not a #bakudeku story, but if Izuku hadn't wanted Todoroki to give him shit about it, he probably should have thrown away that doujinshi Jirou had bought him.

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    11 Aug 2019

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    //

    Todoroki cracks a smile. "Your taste is bad, but not that bad," he says softly.

    Izuku's traitorous heart still flutters when Todoroki does that, but he tries to school himself into a serious expression to ask, "Then why are you doing this?"

    "You have to understand," Todoroki tells him, easy and honest and without even a microgram of guilt in his tone, "it is really, really funny — "

    Izuku hollers and smashes a couch cushion into his face.

    " — and I think if I keep it up Bakugou's heart might explode," Todoroki finishes, muffled in the upholstery, and Izuku wishes he could run away and live in the woods.

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    The man stares at him, and then shakes his head, messy hair shaking with it. “Car trouble, Detective?” The way his lips curl around the word ‘detective’ strikes Shinichi as strange, eerily familiar, and Shinichi almost has to physically shake the feeling away before he can reply.

    “Engine’s making a weird noise,” Shinichi says, and then his thoughts catch up with alacrity, his muscles tensing all at once. “What makes you think I’m a detective?”

    “Police tags on your car,” the man replies, grin growing wider. “Plus this is a Camry from the nineties. No one drives those but police, these days, and regular officers drive patrol cars.” He leans forward a little, gloved hands circling his helmet and lowering it slightly to his handlebars for extra balance. “Far from undercover, if you know what you’re looking for.”

    The cloud cover shifts, revealing the gorgeous full moon, and the light catches the man just right, surrounding him in a pearly glow and putting his face in shadow. “And you know what you’re looking for?”

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    10 Aug 2019

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    //