#izuocha week

[urarakamysocksoff]

izuocha week day 1 prompt: Take Flight

[jellojolteon]

Izuocha week 2024 Day 2: Star-catcher/Oracle

Wizard apprentice Izuku accidentally summons a star spirit and does not know how to put her back.

[ssminosblogs]

[ms-sharazar]

Izuocha date (redrawing)

I redrew their date because they’re so cute to me🤭

[fenixkazeblade]

Day 1: Holding on/Letting go

Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough Just a second we're not broken just bent and we can learn to love again ♫♬...

[syncxma]

I'd Rather Be Me (With You)

Izuocha Week 2023

I'd rather be tall, I'd rather be smart I'd rather be sure you know I care Wherever you go, whatever you start I'd rather be sure you know I'm there I'd rather I always be a part of whatever you do I'd rather be me with you

[kate7h]

IzuOcha Week 2024 - Day 3: Radiant/Mist

So when I saw this prompt I just couldn't resist hehhhhh This is for my fellow cosmere-bnha fans <3

Probably won't be doing anymore prompts this time, but I'm glad I finished this one at least!

[izuochatogashipweek]

Izuochatoga ship week 2024! First time running a ship week so I’m hoping this goes over well? And that there are enough fans on here😓 I think we all know how ship weeks go— write a one shot or make some fanart for each prompt and post on each day with the tag izuochatoga ship week 2024! If anything I’m just hoping to get this polycule I little more content since it’s a favorite of mine

prompts : Day 1 (Nov3) : Crepes /Fireworks / Carnival Day 2 (Nov4) : Flowers / Mourning / Rain Day 3 (Nov5) : Angst / Healing Day 4 (Nov6) : Baking / Domestic / Movie Day 5 (Nov7) : Heroes / Villains Day 6 (Nov8) : Swap / In another life。。。 Day 7 (Nov9) : Free day!

• Any form of media is allowed as long as you use the tag! •I’ll try to reblog every post in it, depending on how big this week gets heheh😅

[dogwaterdish]

Midoriya: I owe you one.

Uraraka: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

[the-cutest-in-the-whole-world]

Happy IzuOchaToga Week! This ship is my most favourite ever, I love it so so much and it needs so much more love

Here’s some art I did for day 1: crepes | fireworks | carnival

And for day 2: flowers | mourning | rain

I’ll probably be late for the rest of the days but I WILL DO THEM!

[dekusleftsock]

Before the leaks tonight, my main notes in the department of “Izuocha not gonna be canon next chapter” is that tsu and Izuku were repeatedly chosen and placed to be in the same, worrying attitude for Ochako’s distance/absence.

Tsu was such a good subtle detail for this chapter as well. That gay ass signaling on Izuocha was so good. Like “this is platonic! Her and Izuku worry over Ochako equally!” And damn Horikoshi you really highlighted, underlined, and bolded in big bright letters Lavender Marriage for these two lmao

My other main detail is the way that Ochako’s/Izuku’s feelings are presented.

Specifically with this last little caption (that isn’t there in the officials for some reason???) on the very last page—

Pika’s translation btw

Maybe y’all don’t get it bc you need it put into perspective: the very idea that there would be a “no ships ending” is… absolutely insane. The fact that it’s the main opinion as well is even crazier.

And to put it into perspective even more, the reason it’s a common belief has to come from the idea that Ochako’s feelings are simply unrequited. A “no ships ending” wouldn’t make sense without it. Do the people saying that realize that it’s what they’re saying? “No time” isn’t a good justification, he had the time, he just used it on… other characters instead. If you believe this, you’re making the argument that Ochako’s story is about unrequited love

This line “The girl’s hidden feeings, and as for deku—..”

I fully understand what the feelings are talking about (Himiko’s death, the respective villains even if they aren’t equatable, etc), but it’s the implications of the way it’s written. It’s presenting it as Ochako’s feelings… for Izuku. It then asks the question, “..DOES Izuku feel the same way?” Because I mean, does he?

Now, I don’t think we’re getting any sort of confession. I could say in detail as to why, but that would be more like repeating the same 5 posts on my feed all week.

Because ultimately, it won’t happen. It’s another bait and switch, like it always is. And Horikoshi knows this.

So that’s why it’s so amazing that this line is here, it’s teasing, almost. Like “Look! The straight relationship is on the horizon! Just follow the cookie! It’s totally where you think it leads..”, and then signaling the warning bells in your head that not everything is as it seems.

Why make Ochako break down crying? Why not confirm Himiko’s death? Why make all of this romantic heartache? Why make straight shippers hold their breath, and then lead them into this supposed security?

Why ask a question on feelings, if it’s supposed to be a given?

[urarakamysocksoff]

izuocha week day 7 prompt: Unfettered/Masterpiece inspired by a panel from Veil

[jellojolteon]

Izuocha week 2024 Day 7: Unfettered/Masterpiece

'til next time!

[ssminosblogs]

here in english version!!!

[izupie]

>> Selkie--- (1)An oceanic creature of North Sea folklore, said to seldomly transform from seal to human by shedding their magical seal skin. Selkies never part from their seal skin.** **Except this Selkie. This Selkie gave up her coat to save someone. Which would be fine if he then hadn't taken the seal skin with him, not knowing the true nature of what had saved him, and accidentally left Ochako trapped in human form. Now she has to get her magical coat back without revealing her true identity... but Izuku is making it very hard to leave, and being human has its perks.

Collab fic between @izupie and @encyclopika

---Read on AO3---

Word count: 43,089

Status: Completed

Rated: G

Tags: AU , Selkie!Ochako , Fisherman!Izuku , Secret Idenity , Fish Out Of Water , Mutual Pining.

For Izuocha Week 2023: Prompt: Storm

---------

Cold winds clustered over the ocean to the cusp of the horizon. They pushed and pulled the surface into a mosaic of white-tipped waves over the deep blue-gray depths. As the cold breeze rode the waves up to the shoreline, they made it clear that winter was still clinging to the sea. 

Izuku could taste it - the heavy, dense water saturated with salt. The taste stung his throat harshly. Swallowing did little for his poor throat, the burning climbing up into his sinuses. He could feel winter’s selfish winds, always there to spoil spring when the sun wasn’t looking. He shivered, and tucked himself under something soft and warm and heavy on top of him.

The minute his brain registered that couldn’t be right, he coughed harshly. He found he could taste the ocean mostly because it was in his mouth. 

Literally.

Not only that, but he’d been lying on the sand, face down with his head turned to one side, his cheek now sore from the pebbles mixed in the sand. Putting his hands under himself, he lifted himself up. On his hands and knees, he spit onto the beach, feeling harsh little grains mix with the last bit of moisture he had left in his mouth. He coughed again, the sand and dust having reached his throat at some point while he was unconscious. By the gods, what he wouldn’t do for a whole pitcher of water!

As the coughing subsided, he leaned back on his knees until he was sitting on his legs. Ahead of him were the dunes and rock that separated the beach from the grassy hills upland. Thankfully he knew where he was, but the question that eluded him was how he got there.

The warm cover gave way in this position, and fell from his shoulders onto the sand in a lump. Right. He hadn’t dressed too warmly for his fishing trip - the sun had been bright upon his leave yesterday, beckoning spring. He didn’t have anything that heavy with him - not enough to hit the ground with such a heavy thump like that. Izuku twisted around and grabbed it from behind, catching a handful of soft fur.  

He held it in front of him to get a better look. Deep, cool grays melted into creams and white as a backdrop to a smattering of perfectly circular black dots across the pelt. The fur itself was dense, soft, and just a tinge oily. Really, there was no better pelt to be wrapped up in on a cold night, and Izuku recognized it immediately.

“A…seal skin…” he muttered to himself. “But what…?”

-------

Read the rest on AO3

[its-f4nf4n-again]

Things We Carry

Ochaco and Izuku don't talk about certain things. But just because you ignore something doesn't mean it isn't there.

AO3 Link Here Word Count:  1433 Rated T; written for @izuochaweek Bonus Day Prompts "Locked Away/Skeleton Keys" .

It starts with something small.

Ochaco finds an old photograph from her childhood. It’s nothing special—just her parents with a chubby toddler between them.  Little Ochaco beams, something vaguely jam-like smeared on one cheek and her stubby fingers, across the front of her father’s shirt.

The Urarakas are smiling.  Laughing.

Looking at the photograph, Ochaco recalls the sweet and tangy jelly on her tongue, the saltiness of the stale crackers she ate it with.  The way her mother and father let her take the whole sleeve, eating nothing themselves.

Her parents don’t regret going hungry so their daughter could eat, not that day and not any other when it was necessary, but the picture awakens something nearly forgotten in Ochaco’s memory; bare cupboards and plain rice for dinner.  Her mother smiling as Ochaco ate her breakfast before classes, saying she’d already had her own to drown out the sound of her stomach growling.  Her father cheerfully calling that he’d pick up breakfast on his way to work.

The sting of tears is unexpected, out of place in contrast to the picture as she slides it into a frame and sets it on the shelf where she and Izuku have decided to keep such things.  It’s a little crowded, but they both like the chaos of it—mismatched frames tipped at odd angles in order to fit between the others.  Mostly, they’ve collected pictures of themselves, their friends.  In and out of their Hero costumes, at UA and even a couple of impromptu celebrations when someone was promoted from intern to sidekick after graduation.

A few family photos have slipped in as well and Ochaco adds the jelly picture wherever she can slot it in, which just happens to be right next to a photo of Izuku and his mother together.  Her eyes flick to the out of place hand in the center.  It’s almost floating, not attached to anything but the dated shoulder pad of Inko’s blazer.

Ochaco bites her lip, knowing what she is about to do is probably not warranted.  Still, she’s curious—always has been—and so she carefully picks the frame out of the messy grouping and turns it over in her hands.

The two Midoriyas she knows so well smile widely back at her, Izuku’s chin tipped up in that child-like way so many kids do when they look at a camera.  He can’t be more than three.

She chuckles, running the pads of her fingers over the glass lovingly before she turns it over and unclasps the paperboard backing so she can pull it free.

She doesn’t even have to take the picture out of the frame to find what she’s looking for.  Because Hisashi Midoriya stares at Ochaco from the interior of the frame.  She isn’t sure exactly what she expected—Izuku looks so much like his mother already, it’s not as if she wondered where his green hair or eyes or easily reddened expression came from.

She is surprised to find that Izuku inherited his freckles from his father, though.  She’s even more surprised that Hisashi looks so happy.  Content, even.  She always expected him to be frowning.

Izuku never talks about his father.  His absence is a hole in his chest he will never quite fill.  One he knows Inko carries with her, too, though hers is wider, deeper than his could ever be.

So he tries to be the best son he can, though he knows he’s fallen woefully short on several occasions.  He bent the photograph back years ago, before he moved into his first real apartment on his own.  There was no reason for it, really.  Doing so, in fact, made it that much harder to find a frame to fit what remained visible of the original picture.

Inko noticed.  Of course she did.  The first time she visited that cramped little efficiency, her eyes wet with happy tears, Izuku heard the faint, “Oh,” of surprise when she found it.  Picked it up carefully, much as Ochaco does now, ran her fingers over the glass in precisely the same way.

It’s funny how some things are instinctual.

“I don’t remember much about him.”

Ochaco jumps when Izuku appears suddenly behind her and she fumbles the picture, only managing to save it from a terrible, shattered-glass fate by slapping her fingers to the frame so it spins harmlessly through the air.

Izuku catches it, pulls the photo free of the frame as Ochaco releases her Quirk.

“S-sorry!” she says, eyes squeezing closed in shame, fists curled against her chest.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Izuku says softly, “I would be curious, too.”

He doesn’t see much of himself in his father, but he thinks that’s probably because he doesn’t want to.  Doesn’t want to admit he carries the traits of a man who so easily left his family behind.  His analytical mind, though, can trace the lineage easily—the cut of the jaw, the sharp slope of the shoulders, the freckles dusted everywhere.  Even the shape of his uncrooked fingers mirror the man he tries to pretend does not exist.

Inko is his mother.  The person who raised him, championed him.  The one who protected him to the best of her ability.

The rest is irrelevant.

“You never talk about it.”

Izuku flicks his gaze up to meet Ochaco’s.  Her cheeks are still flushed in embarrassment, bottom lip trapped tightly between her teeth.

He shrugs, replacing the picture and the paperboard over his father’s smiling face.  “There isn’t much to say,” he says, “He left to make money for us.  He never came back.”

There’s much more to say, of course, but opening wounds means you must be prepared to live with the scars.  And Izuku is not sure he is ready, yet, to tear those sutures away, poke around at the gooey insides until he finds the part that hurts most so he can press against it like the exposed nerve of a rotting tooth.

His eyes stray to the new addition to the picture shelf—the smiling Urarakas.  A similar expression tugs at the corners of his mouth—unbidden, automatic.  Ochaco’s parents embraced him immediately when she introduced them, their warmth a balm against all his anxious uncertainty.

“They look really happy, right?”

The question surprises him.  Of course they look happy, they always do.  But when Izuku turns, Ochaco’s brow is pinched strangely together, her eyes as wet at his mother’s when he told her they were moving in together six months ago.

“They were always so good at hiding it,” she whispers.

“Hiding what?” he asks, though he thinks he already knows the answer; it’s written in the way Ochaco still sometimes hoards non-perishables, the militance of her monthly budget.  He remembers her simple room at UA, her outdated cellphone.

Ochaco doesn’t answer his question, knowing he won’t push her if she makes it clear she no longer wants to pursue the top.  Instead, she wipes her palms against the corners of her eyes and says, “I’m really glad I can help them so much, now.”

Izuku swallows down what he wants to say—the impulse to offer reassurances that she will never have to worry about money again.  Not with her job.  Not with him.

It sounds too much like the last letter his father sent before he stopped writing at all.

Instead, Izuku thinks of his mother.  Of the Urarakas.  Their similarities—the warmth and love that flows so easily from them.  Ochaco thinks of it, too, the tight hug Inko dragged her into when Izuku introduced her as his girlfriend—the tears that soaked her hair.

Izuku opens his arms and Ochaco dives in, tucking her face against his neck.  She feels the soft thrum of his pulse against her cheek and he smells the honey almond scent of the shampoo she keeps at the Agency so she can shower before she comes home.

“What should we do for dinner?” he asks, “Anything you want.”

Ochaco pulls only far enough away so she can kiss his chin, smiling when his face stains crimson all the way to his hairline.  A hairline she now knows he inherited from a man she will probably never meet.

“I don’t care,” she says, “as long as I don’t have to cook it.”

Izuku laughs.  “Katsudon it is, then.”

Ochaco laughs, too, the sound bright and hopeful as they make their way toward the kitchen, knowing they will both go to bed with full bellies, wrapped in arms loving arms that will always be there when they need them.