#2024 my year of Never finish any drawing ever apparently

[thirdtimed]

even more lifer doodles

[libraryofolive]

stab it harder!

featuring: toji fushiguro x reader

genre: fluff, drabble

word count: 900

synopsis: As an assassin, Toji's skills with a knife are off the charts - until it comes to carving pumpkins, apparently.

part six of spooky section, my 2024 Halloween event!

Toji sliced into the body, taking the top off it in one swoop, He reached inside, pulling stringy guts out with his bare fist, his victim joining their friends that had already been massacred. Their innards were all over the kitchen, some even splashed onto the ceiling. His face was sour in concentration, hints of sweat beading on his face. You and his young son stood watching, horrified.

“Christ, Ji, what did that pumpkin ever do to you?” You broke the tense silence, eyes wide.

“Fuckin’ things won’t carve properly.” He spat, glaring at the orange vegetable on the table in front of him.

“We can’t carve pumpkins?” You looked down at little Megumi, a sad expression on his face after his father’s words.

“Don’t be silly,” You reassured the boy, picking him up and resting him on your hip as you walked towards your partner. “Your Dad’s just annoyed because he’s bad at it.” Megumi let out a laugh at that, and you set him down on one of the few spots on the counter that wasn’t covered in pumpkin guts.

“Why don’t we all do this one together, eh?” You asked. Megumi nodded enthusiastically, an his Dad just sighed, still seething at the pumpkin in front of him.

“Megs, do you want to draw the face on it? Then your Dad and I will cut it out for you.”

“I want to cut it out!”

“Absolutely not-”

“It’s a little dangerous for you, big guy.” You interrupted Toji, sending him a glare that screamed be nice, or else. He put his hands up in surrender at that look, knowing when to back down when it comes to you.

“Aw.” Megumi looked down, slightly defeated.

“Don’t worry Megs,” Toji ruffled his hair, “you can do it next year, I promise.”

“And,” you added, “if you think about it, drawing the design means that you’re in charge of the pumpkin.”

“What do you mean?” He asked you, eyes full of curiosity.

“Well, we have to cut out whatever you draw, right? So it’s kind of like you’re telling me and your Dad what to do.” Megumi’s grin shifted into what could only be described as a shit-eating one, eerily similar to his father’s. The resemblance between he two never ceased to amaze you, Megumi really being the spitting image of Toji.

“Please can you get me a pen?” He asked you sweetly, but the mischievous glint in his eye had you wondering what you had gotten yourself into when you handed him a sharpie.

15 minutes later, and Toji was struggling. Megumi had decided on designs for two pumpkins, and was very specific in his instructions on who should be carving each one. He had gifted you a somewhat traditional design - two triangles for eyes, another smaller triangle for a nose, and a toothy grin. Easy enough.

On the other hand, he had decided to give Toji a design that resembled one of his demon dogs, and because of it was infinitely more detailed and intricate. For an outline of a dog, drawn by a four year old, Megumi really hadn’t done bad - whether or not that translated into its carved version was entirely down to Toji. Yeah, he felt the pressure.

You had finished your pumpkin about 20 minutes ago, Megumi elated at your work and even happier that you entrusted him with lighting the tealight inside it (under heavy supervision, of course). Now, the two of you were sat watching his father closely. It was endearing, watching your partner (try to) do this for his son, concentrating so hard his tongue was poking out of his mouth. He was careful in the way he inserted the knife into the vegetable, each slice and stab careful and intentional.

“Is this how slow you work, babe?” You teased, careful to leave out any hints of what his job really was in front of the young child.

“Yeah, Dad, it’s been aaages.” Megumi joined in, a cheesy smile on his face.

“Should’ve thought about that before giving me such a difficult design, eh?” He gave his son a pointed look, but made sure to smile so Megumi knew he was just kidding.

“But it’s gonna be so cool. If you do it right.”

“Yeah, ‘Ji, it’s all on you now.”

“Never in my life did I think I’d have my girl and son bullying me in my own kitchen.”

“Did you think you’d be bullying us?” Megumi asked a little too earnestly, making you crack up. You high-fived the boy, who laughed along with you.

“You guys are gonna be eating your words in a second.” Toji too a step back, admiring his work. He grinned - a smug one, full of pride, before turning the pumpkin around in a dramatic reveal to the two of you.

“Dad, it’s shit!” Megumi exclaimed. You gasped, letting out a loud cackle of laughter, as Toji gaped at his son.

“Megumi, what did we say about those words-”

“No, I agree with him Toji. There is no other word to describe that pumpkin. It really is shit.”

Toji let out a deep, deep sigh. There was a pregnant pause, but eventually he nodded his head. “Yeah.” He agreed dejectedly, “it really is shit.”

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of MHA 2024 Day 3 - Another cup

Shouta watches how Shinsou's eyes lose focus again. It's only for a split moment but it happens every other minute and Shouta suppresses a sigh. It's more than apparent that Shinsou is beyond tired and Shouta doesn't even need the eyebags to know that, even though they are more pronounced than usual.

He has half a mind to call training off, if only to make sure that Shinsou doesn't make mistakes that will only frustrate him, but Shouta has been training with Shinsou for long enough to know that calling an end to training early will only stress the kid out.

So something else needs to be done.

With Shinsou, it's always best to not beat around the bush, even if the topic of choice will make him clam up on Shouta, but at least he won't throw the kid into a worry spiral if he acts unusually, so Shouta fixes him with a look.

"What's wrong with you today?" he bluntly asks and watches how Shinsou stumbles in his surprise.

It's just another testament to how tired he must be because they are long past that stage normally.

"Nothing is wrong," Shinsou says, just a beat too slow and Shouta glares some more. "I'm just tired."

Shinsou always claims he's tired, but it seems worse today.

"Did you not get enough sleep?" Shouta asks even though he knows the answer. The eyebags Shinsou sports are not a fashion choice after all.

"I never do. Insomnia, you know," Shinsou shrugs and Shouta takes the tiny opening.

"Are your parents doing anything about that? Have you seen some doctors? Is there medication you can take?" Shouta wants to know and he sees the moment Shinsou shuts down on him.

It's always dangerous to ask after his parents, Shouta has come to learn, but he never gives up. Shouta doesn't think that Shinsou is being physically abused at home, because he never spots any injuries on him and so far Shinsou hasn't hit him with the "I bumped into the doorway" excuse but something isn't right in the kid's home regardless.

Shouta just can't put his finger to it and as long as Shinsou doesn't talk to him there's little he can do.

"It's fine," Shinsou mutters, angling himself away from Shouta. "I'm handling it."

'I'm handling it'. Not 'My parents are handling it' or even 'we'.

Shouta lets out a long sigh, which makes Shinsou draw his shoulders up as if he's bracing for something but Shouta only holds out his hand.

"Give me your phone," he says and then patiently waits until Shinsou gets moving.

Shouta carefully keeps his face blank when Shinsou puts a cracked phone into his hand and he makes quick work of putting his number and address in.

"That's my number and my home address. I want you to call or write whenever you want, but especially when you think you're in danger. And the address is there for you to use it. You can come by whenever, the time of day or night doesn't matter. If we're not here at school at least one of us is at home, so we'll be able to let you in."

Shinsou's eyes have gone bigger the longer Shouta talks and the naked hope in Shinsou's eyes makes his chest hurt.

"We?" Shinsou asks after a long moment and Shouta hands the phone back.

"Hizashi and me. You know I'm married to Present Mic, right?"

It's something of an open secret, at least here at the school, and his hellion class had them figured out mere days into the school year, which earned them extra points. Shouta's last class didn't know about their marriage until graduation and that was just unacceptable.

"I—did not," Shinsou admits and Shouta wonders if he ever talks to anyone else at the school, if he even has friends. He's never asked but given how Shinsou acts with him he doubts it.

"Is that a problem?" Shouta raises an eyebrow at Shinsou, genuinely curious because the kid seems shocked but Shinsou must misinterpret his expression because he goes pale before he falls all over himself, trying to reassure Shouta.

"No! Of course not, no that's fine, it's just—"

"It's just what?" Shouta prompts him when he takes too long to finish his sentence.

"Surprising, is all. I didn't peg you for a guy to marry and not someone like Present Mic."

"What is that supposed to mean. Someone like Present Mic?"

Shouta can't help the sharp tone to his voice; he always gets defensive when someone insinuates that his husband isn't a good hero, is a bit stupid, and airheaded and even with Shinsou, he gets protective.

"He's just so—loud," Shinsou mutters, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground. "And in the spotlight."

"Hero lesson 101," Shouta says, making a conscious effort to gentle his voice. "Some heroes adopt a persona and then embody that persona until they clock off, so to speak. I know your only real contact with a hero is me, so far, and I'm on the opposite spectrum of that, but don't always take everything at face value. Present Mic is the hero. Yamada Hizashi is the man. Once you're in the business for longer you'll know how to spot the signs and it's an important skill to learn."

"I'm sorry," Shinsou mutters and Shouta puts a reassuring hand to his shoulder.

"Don't be. Like I said, it's a skill you've yet to learn. Just employ some critical thinking when you encounter any heroes." He waits for Shinsou to nod before he takes his hand back. "Now, my offer still stands. No matter what time of day, you're always allowed to text, call or drop by. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Shinsou whispers, clutching his phone tight as if it could slip through his fingers at any moment.

Shouta doubts Shinsou is going to pick him up on the offer any time soon, but at least it's out there now. Shouta breathes a little bit easier, knowing that Shinsou has a way to contact him now, should anything at home be wrong.

And for now, it'll have to be enough.

~*~*~

It starts slow.

Shinsou messages him when he can't make it to school or training, when the trains are delayed due to a villain attack. When Shouta drops that he adores cats almost more than he does his husband, Shinsou starts sending him pictures of stray cats he apparently feeds and it's something they talk about a lot.

Shouta makes sure to always answer the kid, even if it's just a simple 'Okay' but he never lets a message go unanswered, not if he can help it.

Once, he couldn't answer because he was in the middle of a fight during patrol and the next day Shinsou was all withdrawn and twitchy around him again, much like he used to be at the very beginning of this all and Shouta cannot have that.

So a solution is needed.

"I can't always answer you when I'm on patrol," Shouta says, two days after the unanswered text, without any preamble.

"I understand," Shinsou gives back, not meeting his eyes and Shouta fears that he very much does not understand.

"I also can't give you my patrol schedule, for security reasons," Shouta goes on. "What I can do, is create a chat with you, me and Hizashi, so that one of us can always answer."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother," Shinsou mutters out and Shouta suppresses a sigh.

"If you were a bother, I wouldn't offer it. If you're worried about bothering Hizashi, don't be, you know he likes you. It was actually his idea."

It wasn't, because Hizashi doesn't even know about this yet, but Shouta doubts he's going to mind, seeing as he was the one who insisted on cleaning out the spare room in case Shinsou ever wants or needs to stay the night.

Shinsou looks decidedly unconvinced and Shouta gets out his phone.

"Want me to prove it?"

Shinsou presses his lips together but Shouta sees the minute jerk of his head, so he dials Hizashi and puts him on speaker.

He's not worried about it, because after being married for so long, he knows how to convey to Hizashi to play along.

"Shou, what's up? Aren't you still training with the kiddo? Everything alright?"

"I am, he's here. Remember that talk we had about that unanswered text and what you proposed?" Shouta asks and at least that's not a lie, because they did talk about it.

Shouta was too frustrated by the setback to not talk about it to Hizashi.

"I do. Does he not like my idea?" Hizashi asks, playing along flawlessly and Shinsou's eyes go wide.

"You truly don't mind?" he asks, shuffling closer and it pains Shouta to hear the surprise in his voice.

"I do not mind it at all, otherwise I wouldn't have brought it up. We just want you to know that we care, alright, kiddo? We're here for you."

Hizashi is really good at rolling with the punches, Shouta will have to thank him for it later, and Shinsou's face lights up before he schools it back into his usual disinterested mask.

"Thank you," he mutters and steps back again, giving Shouta some space.

"Alright, thanks for clearing that up, I'll go ahead and create that group then," Shouta says and after an enthusiastic 'Hell yeah' from Hizashi he hangs up, only to immediately make a group with Hizashi and Shinsou. "There. If you message us here and one of us is on patrol or can't reply otherwise, the other one will answer, promise. And don't ever think you'll be a bother, Hizashi loves cats too, even though he tries to hide it. Keep sending pics of those strays and he'll want to adopt all of them."

"Would you let him?" Shinsou asks and Shouta gives him a look.

"We have three cats at home and I didn't get to pick any of them," he simply says and watches a smile slowly bloom up on Shinsou's face.

"Okay," he then softly agrees and Shouta calls it a win.

~*~*~

Around a week or so after creating the group chat, Shinsou comes by their apartment for the first time. He asked if he could see their cats and while Shouta would have only sent him some pics—which he still does—Hizashi immediately invites him over, because 'Cuddling them is better than just seeing pics' and Shouta commends him for his quick thinking.

After that, Shinsou does drop by every now and then. They get him to stay for an hour or two, a cup of coffee or tea sometimes but it's as if the kid has an internal alarm. After two and a half hours tops he'll slink out the door as if Shouta and Hizashi would kick him out if he stays even a second longer.

Very rarely they get him to stay for even past that; it involves Shouta distracting the hell out of the kid while Hizashi cooks something and then puts it down in front of Shinsou before the kid can protest.

He's too polite to decline then, so he stays until the food is gone.

Once they got him by making his favourite which he offhandedly mentioned a while ago but when Shinsou realised that he got real quiet around them, not letting slip any personal information anymore, and so Shouta and Hizashi haven't tried that again.

Shouta just hopes that whatever Shinsou is looking for when he comes to them is something they actually give him because Shouta has no idea how they are going to make the kid stay otherwise.

~*~*~

Shouta has his mind made up. He will go and pay a visit to the kid and Shouta refuses to be called a worry-wart over it. Shinsou hasn't been to school or training. He hasn't contacted Shouta, or Hizashi, or the group chat, or the school, Shinsou's phone is off and his parents can't be reached.

There is cause to worry and Shouta will figure out where his student vanished to.

Except when he comes home, Shinsou is slumped against the front door.

Shouta's gut lurches with worry and he hurries to Shinsou's side, crouching down and carefully touching a hand to his knee, cautious of possibly aggravating any possible injuries he might have.

"Shinsou? Kid, can you hear me?" he gently asks and forces himself to be calm and composed and not panic.

He doesn't yet know if there is cause to panic.

"Aizawa?" Shinsou mumbles, lifting his head and the rush of relief almost makes Shouta dizzy.

Shinsou's eyes are glassy, there's a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin and his breath rattles in his chest.

Shinsou is most definitely sick. Which isn't great but it's leagues better than critically injured, so Shouta will take what he can get.

"It's alright, kid, I've got you," Shouta promises him and lifts him up, his grip tight on Shinsou when he starts to sway on the spot.

Shouta gets the door open and they are not even halfway inside when Hizashi calls out to him.

"Did you reach the kiddo?" he asks, moments before he rounds the corner and his eyes go wide with worry.

"He's sick," Shouta reassures him immediately. "He was slumped against the front door."

"I knew I should have checked out that noise, goddamit," Hizashi mutters and comes closer to take Shinsou off Shouta. "Hey, kiddo, how are you doing?" he softly asks and Shinsou groans, which probably sums up his general state pretty well. "Alright, off to bed you go. Shou, we should still have some of that cold medicine laying around and bring the thermometer as well," Hizashi instructs him as he hauls Shinsou off to the guest room.

Shouta does as told and soon enough Shinsou is tucked in, medicated and fast asleep in bed.

"His parents?" Hizashi asks as they look at the sleeping boy but Shouta shakes his head.

"Can't be reached. We'll just—have to wait and see."

"Shou, that's just not right," Hizashi hisses out and Shouta nods.

"I know. But this is something. It finally gives us something to work with. And he came here, Hizashi, he came to us. That's all we wanted. He trusts us."

"I just hope it's enough," Hizashi mutters and then walks away, probably to stress-cook a hearty soup.

It'll do the kid some good once he wakes up.

~*~*~

It takes two days for Shinsou's fever to go down. Two days he spends in the guest bedroom, with Shouta and Hizashi fretting over him.

It seems he's not quite lucid enough to know where he is, not always at least, but one of them is always there, always ready to reassure the kid when he has one of his moments.

During all of that, Shinsou's parents can't be reached and they don't contact the school either, to ask about the whereabouts of their son. On day two Shouta contacts Tsukauchi, to ask if anyone has reported Shinsou as missing, but even that comes up empty and Shouta and Hizashi burn with incandescent rage at the fact that apparently Shinsou's parents care so little about their son that even a two day absence from his home goes by unnoticed.

It's something they need to bring up with Shinsou but they wait until his fever has broken and his breath comes easy again.

"I'm sorry," is the first coherent sentence that leaves his mouth and of course Shouta and Hizashi are not having it.

"Don't be," Hizashi says as he pushes Shinsou's hair out of face, in a subtle attempt to take his temperature. "We're just thankful you came to us."

"I didn't mean to be a bother, I just—didn't know where else to go," Shinsou mumbles and Hizashi and Shouta share a look.

"Good, because you haven't been a bother and we truly are thankful you came to us. That's why Shouta gave you our address in the first place. We're always here for you, kiddo."

Shinsou seems as if he's about to argue with them so Hizashi hands him a mug of tea and cuts any protest off in the process, too. Shinsou sips the tea and then eats some of the soup Shouta is so sick of by now and when he hands over the empty bowl and swings his legs out of bed Shouta and Hizashi share an alarmed look.

It seems as if Shinsou is about ready to leave and they absolutely cannot have that. They don't yet know what's going on with Shinsou's family and he's only on the mend, not completely healed by any means, so they are not going to let him leave into an unknown situation.

Hizashi takes the bowl from Shinsou, just as Shouta takes Shinsou's arm.

"You missed three days of school, kid, and I have everything here. You wanna go review it?" he asks in a desperate attempt to keep Shinsou with them for a little longer and even though Shinsou hesitates, he nods in the end.

They relocate to the living-room, where Shouta does in fact keep all the worksheets he got for Shinsou from the other teachers and Hizashi vanishes into the kitchen to make more tea as Shouta goes over some of the things Shinsou's missed.

"Have another cup," Hizashi says when he comes back and immediately shoves a mug into Shinsou's hands, not giving him time to protest.

Shinsou looks down at the mug, back up at Shouta, down at the mug again and then at Hizashi before he speaks.

"How many more cups are you going to make me drink to stop me from leaving?" he then asks and Hizashi flushes bright red, while Shouta lets out an amused huff.

"As many as it takes for you to finally accept that you're more than welcome to stay," he tells him and now it's Shinsou's turn to go red in the face, though he tries to hide it behind the steam rising from the mug, his eyes fixed on the worksheet in front of him.

"Kid, we have some questions," Shouta eventually carefully says when Shinsou stays quiet, but keeps the mug clutched in his hands and doesn't make an attempt to bolt.

"Please don't," he whispers and Shouta has half a mind to just drop it, but then they can't help him.

They need to know.

"Sorry, kiddo, but we really can't just ignore that. Don't get us wrong, we're happy you're here, we're glad and thankful you came to us and you can absolutely stay for however long you want to but. It's going on three days now and your parents haven't contacted the school, or you or the police even once and we can't contact them either. For all they know you're missing and they are not acting accordingly."

"But I'm safe here with you, why does it matter?"

"Kid, you'll always be safe with us, but you should also be safe at home. You should be able to stay at home when you're sick and have someone take care of you. But you came to us, so we have to assume that's not something that's true for you."

Shinsou closes his eyes at that and Hizashi pushes his fingers through his hair.

"Kiddo, talk to us. We can't help you if you don't talk to us."

Shinsou is completely still for a terrifying moment and then he drags in a shuddering breath as he slumps on the couch.

"I need you to not be pro heroes right now. You can't be pro heroes if I tell you this," Shinsou finally says and Shouta and Hizashi share a worried look but nod.

"Sure," Hizashi says and Aizawa adds a "Whatever you need," for good measure, too.

If this is what the kid needs from them to be able to tell them anything, then Hizashi and Shouta will be whatever he wants them to be. Even if that makes things more difficult down the road, depending on what he's about to tell them.

"My parents are—minor villains," Shinsou says, his voice barely audible in the room and Shouta works hard to hide his initial reaction. "Or maybe involved with the Yakuza at this point, I don't know. They are not—good people. My dad has a quirk that lets him influence emotions and my mom's is a suggestive quirk. She can tell you what you want to do and for a short time you're convinced you really want to do it. When—when I got my quirk they were excited, because—"

Shinsou's voice breaks but Shouta can fill in the blanks for him, at least for this.

"They thought it'd be perfect for whatever it is they do."

"Yeah," Shinsou breathes out. "They had me training it all the time, because it could be so useful to them. When I turned six, I first told them I want to be a hero and when I turned ten I refused to train with them because by then I realised that something was going on and ever since then they've been—absent." Shinsou takes a shuddering breath. "They are never home and they don't talk to me and now that I don't want to be whatever the hell it is they are, I'm just a waste of space to them. They keep the apartment, and they pay for electricity and stuff like that, but—" Shinsou trails off with a shaky shrug.

"When was the last time you saw them? Or spoke to them?" Hizashi carefully asks.

"They told me I'm no son of theirs when I got into U.A."

"That was half a year ago!"

Shinsou presses his lips together at that and Hizashi pulls him into a sideway hug.

"Kid, we can't let this slide," Shouta says as gently as he knows how to, but predictably Shinsou tenses up. "And I'm not talking about your parents' villainy. But they are your parents and while that gives them parental rights, it also means they have parental obligations and they are clearly not fulfilling them. They are supposed to care for you."

"Please, I don't want them to be arrested," Shinsou chokes out. "They might not be around but they are still my parents."

"We understand that," Hizashi reassures him, "but we also need you to be safe and cared for. So here's what we can do. Their continued absence and the fact that we couldn't reach them and they haven't reached out even though you haven't been home in three days is enough for us to take action."

"We don't have to mention what they do, we'll just stick to the neglect," Shouta says because he thinks it's important that Shinsou knows exactly what it is they are talking about. "We'll get a detective involved that we trust and Hizashi has connections with CPS. There is legitimate cause to act, which will allow the school to seize emergency custody for now."

"What does that mean?" Shinsou's voice shakes, and Shouta wishes there was a simple way to wipe all of his worries away.

"It means you're going to stay with us. As teachers at U.A. we're required to have a foster license in case anything like that ever happens."

"Does it—happen a lot?"

"Not a lot, but more often than we'd like. There's abuse and neglect, dangerous living situations and sometimes the school takes custody because the parents have to travel or are too ill to care properly for their children. You're not the first one and you won't be the last."

"Has someone stayed with you before?"

Shouta and Hizashi share a look before they answer.

"No. Shou usually expels all his students before matters like this can arise and I teach all the courses, which means I don't have a close enough bond with any of the students to warrant them to stay with us when their homeroom teachers are just as qualified."

"But—you'd—with me?"

"We want you to stay with us, yes. Of course we do, Shinsou," Hizashi immediately says and Shouta nods.

"We would be happy to have you here, more regularly and even permanently, too," he adds and while he hoped it would clear things up for Shinsou, the frown on his face only deepens.

"What do you really want?"

"Kiddo, we just—"

Hizashi suddenly falls silent, his eyes milky and unseeing and Shouta has trained long enough with Shinsou to know that he's used his quirk on Hizashi.

Shinsou's eyes dart over to him, his shoulders hunched up as if he's ready for Shouta to get mad at any moment now but Shouta knows Shinsou. He knows that Shinsou would never hurt Hizashi and chances are, the kid really needs to do whatever it is he's about to do, so for now, Shouta is more than happy to simply sit back and watch this play out.

He trusts Shinsou.

"Only tell the truth," Shinsou says, his voice coming out weak and shaky and Shouta bites back the little 'Ah' that wants to slip out.

Of course he'd need to make sure they are telling the truth. That's even less reason for him to interfere.

"Why do you want me to stay with you?" Shinsou asks and Shouta wishes this wasn't necessary, that the kid could just believe them but short of getting Tsukauchi in here, this is possibly the fastest and easiest way to convince Shinsou that they just want to help him.

"We like you. We adore you. We want to give you a safe and happy and stable home," Hizashi gives back and it sounds so wrong to hear him be this monotone.

"But—no one cares about me," Shinsou gasps out and it's not a question, so Hizashi is not going to answer, which means it's on Shouta to speak.

"We do, kid, we care so much. Just—let us, alright?"

"Will you tell the police about my parents?" he asks instead of acknowledging Shouta's words and his face falls when Hizashi answers with a "Yes."

"Kid, remember to clarify. We have to tell them because of the neglect. You need to be more specific in cases like this," Shouta reminds him, because this is still something they are working on.

Getting someone to speak while under brainwashing was already difficult enough and sometimes Shinsou forgets to pick his words carefully.

"Will you tell the police that my parents are villains?" Shinsou corrects and Hizashi's answer is immediate.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You asked us not to."

Shouta is surprised to see that this is what finally brings some tears to Shinsou's eyes and his connection to Hizashi breaks.

Shinsou shrinks in on himself again, but Hizashi only blinks and then pulls the kid into his arms.

"Thank you," Shinsou sobs out after a moment and Hizashi only hums as he holds him.

Shouta shuffles closer to put his hand to Shinsou's back and then they just hold him for a moment.

"Will you allow us to help you?" Shouta whispers and Shinsou immediately nods his head.

"Please," he gets out. "I'm so tired, tired of being all alone and coming home to an empty house and doing everything by myself."

Shouta's heart breaks for him, because no kid should have to deal with any of that but he and Hizashi will make sure that from now on Shinsou doesn't have to deal with anything on his own anymore.

If Shinsou's parents aren't going to be there for him then Hizashi and Shouta will gladly step up and give Shinsou a warm and happy home full of love.

[goodluckclove]

In Defense of Self-Inserts

This is written in response to an ask sent from the Always Delightful @fukurouonthesea, who asked for my thoughts on creating unique characters in regards to a tabletop game character they're building. My first thought on getting this question is that Fukuro likely assumes unique characters are a subject I know things about - good to hear! Good that people assume I know things! That works out well for me.

So I can speak more on the perspective of writing characters for prose and scripts rather than TTRPGs. I recently finished my first campaign, but I was sort of tricked into playing by my wife who was DM-ing and ended up going the whole time with a joke character I really couldn't find any actual dramatic pathos in*. My next attempt will hopefully be more intentionally-crafted. But also still probably chaotic. I tend to lean that way, apparently.

But characters! How do you do them? Or, more accurately, how do I do them? There's a ton of paths to get to the same goal of Cool Guy That's Fun To Read About, but I'd love to take this opportunity to put off actually working on Migration Patterns for a while longer and instead ramble about something I've been wanting to dive into for a while.

Self-inserts are actually super useful! They're great! All of my characters are self-inserts and virtually no one has ever commented on that! I genuinely don't think they've noticed!

(this is a long one)

What is a self-insert, really? The definition I'm the most familiar with in writing is a character drawing (maybe even heavily drawing) from yourself as the author. I saw people back in the day get very mean about self-inserts, considering them an overlap with the Original Sin of Mary Sue-dom. It's 2024, though, and these days Mary Sue is primarily a term used to describe female characters that a critic personally doesn't like. Still, I've had a TON of writers come to me worrying about writing self-inserts, and I'm consistently confused.

Maybe it's because I've been doing this for long enough that I've built up an immunity to the dumb nonsense people say online posing as "Objective Writing Advice". Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of Kurt Vonnegut, a man who straight up wrote himself as a side character in a few of his most notable books. I've never gone that far, but I absolutely pull from my own life and identity for all of my characters and it consistently works.

I think when a reader points out a character as a self-insert, it's a reflex of seeing someone with notably less nuance than the rest of the cast. This character - let's name them Goobis - is written with the near-explicit intent to be just super cool. It's an instant turn-off for me in a written work if there's one person I can just look at and immediately know they're crafted to be the fandom darling. Goobis might have faults, but if they do, they're pretty cool faults. They're things that could definitely be bad if pushed to a thematic height (Caring too much, over-protective, self-sacrificing, a level of snark that's guaranteed to make impressionable fans slightly insufferable for a few years), but they aren't.

Goobis, typically, gets kid gloves in terms of the treatment of the story. Plot Armor, maybe. Or they might be a Plot Martyr that has every bad thing ever happen to them and everyone around them is either an old-timey villain or a kind cardboard cutout that weeps oh no poor Goobis!! Both are fine. There's an audience for both, clearly. But from what I've seen those are the types of characters that typically get readers - myself included - to think they're a form of wish-fulfillment.

You can do wish-fulfillment in writing. You should do that at least one, it's nice and good for bone health. But man, there are a lot of writers (Including adult ones that I've known in my real life) who can benefit from - like - distance, man. Draw from yourself and your life, but unless you're ready for a conversation maybe don't be one-to-one accurate.

I have a relative who got a masters in creative writing. I found his novella online and aimed to read it and send him my thoughts as a show of support, only to find that it was actually unbelievably pretentious and I honestly couldn't get through it. What drew my attention, though, was that the main character was dealing with the grief of his father, who died literally the exact same way my relative's actual father died.

I caught it immediately and I think I whispered "oh no" out loud. Like, what are you doing dude? Your mom read that shit, and she had to see you describe an entirely accurate depiction of how her fucking husband died that is such a weird move. Processing grief through writing is great - but change some fucking specifics, you weirdo. Make it a mom instead of a dad, or maybe an uncle or grandpa if you're keeping the patriarch thing. Change the reason why he needed surgery, or the medical complication that caused his death. Maybe don't name the exact hospital where your Dad died in this non-autobiographical work. Fucking hell.

Shifting some surface-level details from events in your life is, often times, enough to make it so people directly involved in these events can read them and not even realize what you're referencing. You can also tweak a certain event slightly to fictionalize it even further, while still having the honesty of your real life experience. I dropped out of school while starting the same creative writing program my relative graduated from. What if I stayed? What would my life look like? What would my writing look like? Would I still even enjoy writing? The concept of sliding door moments is a fascinating one to me and it's something I think about a lot.

On a more internal level in terms of character, you know more of yourself than anyone else in your life. You know your fears and your faults. You know what makes you lovable - or what people say they love you for, or what you'd like them to love about you. You probably know things about yourself that are so painful and trembling that you assume that if anyone else finds out about them they'd immediately realize you're worthless as a human being. If you don't know any of that, maybe you should. Internal contemplation - or external though something like therapy - is absolutely beneficial in a ton of ways, including for your art.

People are complicated. Everyone is complicated, and the average person as the most experience with their own network of identity. And in my own work (The only craft I can really speak for), putting at least a touch of myself in the characters I create has really caused people to engage and relate to them.

And it's weird, because I can't really think of any major faults that any of my characters have. At least, not in the way a lot of newer writers describe character faults - like some rubber stamp easily marked in the center of a person's forehead. There are things about the cast of my series Songbird Elegies that I see as struggles that either have to be processed or managed. Someone might be self-loathing, or struggle with emotional intimacy, or have a temper that will absolutely steer them wrong. They might be impulsive to a degree that is no longer Quirky Cute. That's not great.

But growing writers will sometimes make a fault out to be a thing that you can see very clearly in a person above anything else. As if you can point at a guy on the street and say BAM - SEXIST! Which - yeah, you can do that. I can have brief interactions with people I don't actually know and come away thinking that someone is stupid or lazy or irresponsible or any number of bad qualities. It's only if I got to actually know them - either though a relationship or just somehow following their lives as an outside observer - that I'd learn they slipped through the cracks in school so deeply that they just stopped caring, or they went through a loss that resulted in them choosing to survive instead of actually live.

Your worst qualities weren't predestined from birth. The Meyers-Brigg is absolute nonsense mainly utilized by the military and most major corporations. There are things you might hate about yourself that once served to protect you. This is true for everyone you see, but when you're just starting out in art it might be hard to see that. That's why it's so helpful to first draw from yourself.

So draw from yourself to whatever degree you want. Give Goobis your sense of humor, but maybe use it as an opportunity to explore why you're so quick to joke and what doing that might be avoiding. Have Goobis experience the same childhood birthday that irrevocably changed the course of your life, but maybe change what year it happened and make it a close-up magician you found instead of a Spiderman Impersonator. In fact, consider seeing what would change if it was Goobis' innocent little brother who stumbled across Spiderman's dead body instead of Goobis themself. If you're willing to be honest - not excessively self-deprecating or praising, just honest - you'll probably be surprised how many people see themselves in the people you write.

God that was long. I hope that helped maybe? Helped someone?

*It was an eldritch horror wearing a cowboy Hat of Disguise to look like a bulldog. His name was Socks. He ended the campaign traveling to early 2000s Philadelphia and kidnapping an NPC with him. This was after Socks paid for the NPCs Wizard school education, then paid for the NPC to become a potter after crossing paths again, and then sacrificed the NPC to be an immortal slave to a Time Spider. In the climax of this campaign Socks used the Teleport cantrip from Wizards101 to banish the final enemy to the Tomb of the Beguiler. Things went off the rails real quick.