Semi-closed to whoever opens the door Midoriya, known to some as the hero Deku, doesn't come over to people's homes uninvited. He is expected. A young man, high school age, short but solidly built, arrives at the door wearing a faded blue jacket hoodie and his backpack. He has the hood up over his dark green hair, which bears signs of damage and is in need of a trim. He wears a simple black cloth mask stretched over his lower face and neck. Facial coverings are sometimes a fashion statement among Trenchies, but it's unusual on Midoriya.
It's just a precaution. He remembers, a lifetime ago, when he and his friends snuck off to Kamino at night, and he crossed his arms in front of his face, comically trying and failing to be covert. He wishes he could ask his homeroom teacher for real tips now.
He's probably overthinking it. Just in case, he needs to ask a small favor of anyone he has met or will meet.
Sitting (OTA) If the curtains are open, he sits out of view of the windows, politely occupying his square of space. The residents keep their shoes on in this nightmarish dystopia of a house, but he removes his red sneakers unless told not to. He's pocketed his mask and unzipped the jacket worn over a plain black shirt.
His thick curls are scraggly and uncharacteristically coarse. There is still a sleepless roughness around his eyes. Despite receiving magical healing, a few scrapes mar his skin near the back of his jaw. His face is not twisted in Corrupted sadness like it was when the month changed over, but it is restful, serious, and worn. On the face of a person who lived his life looking at the world wide-eyed in wonder, surprise, and earnestness, it is a drastic change.
"I'd like to ask you a favor if that's all right," he says in a quieter version of his usual politeness. "It's a small one, but it can be easy to forget."
It's 3 AM, where are you? (OTA) cw: scars Midoriya is standing silently in the dimly lit kitchen, a victim of a sleep schedule he ruined over multiple weeks. He's wearing his pajamas (T-shirt and basketball shorts) and a voluminous bedhead. The large, blotchy scar on his well-muscled upper arm and the ones on his hand are old ones from home. Since November, he's been covered in even more scars, but they pale next to his new ones, ragged slashes still redly fading.
He hopes to find a midnight snack without disturbing anyone. In his hand he examines a box labeled Cap'n Trench.
OTA. Early March, but not too early
Midoriya, known to some as the hero Deku, doesn't come over to people's homes uninvited. He is expected. A young man, high school age, short but solidly built, arrives at the door wearing a faded blue jacket hoodie and his backpack. He has the hood up over his dark green hair, which bears signs of damage and is in need of a trim. He wears a simple black cloth mask stretched over his lower face and neck. Facial coverings are sometimes a fashion statement among Trenchies, but it's unusual on Midoriya.
It's just a precaution. He remembers, a lifetime ago, when he and his friends snuck off to Kamino at night, and he crossed his arms in front of his face, comically trying and failing to be covert. He wishes he could ask his homeroom teacher for real tips now.
He's probably overthinking it. Just in case, he needs to ask a small favor of anyone he has met or will meet.
Sitting (OTA)
If the curtains are open, he sits out of view of the windows, politely occupying his square of space. The residents keep their shoes on
in this nightmarish dystopia of a house, but he removes his red sneakers unless told not to. He's pocketed his mask and unzipped the jacket worn over a plain black shirt.His thick curls are scraggly and uncharacteristically coarse. There is still a sleepless roughness around his eyes. Despite receiving magical healing, a few scrapes mar his skin near the back of his jaw. His face is not twisted in Corrupted sadness like it was when the month changed over, but it is restful, serious, and worn. On the face of a person who lived his life looking at the world wide-eyed in wonder, surprise, and earnestness, it is a drastic change.
"I'd like to ask you a favor if that's all right," he says in a quieter version of his usual politeness. "It's a small one, but it can be easy to forget."
It's 3 AM, where are you? (OTA) cw: scars
Midoriya is standing silently in the dimly lit kitchen, a victim of a sleep schedule he ruined over multiple weeks. He's wearing his pajamas (T-shirt and basketball shorts) and a voluminous bedhead. The large, blotchy scar on his well-muscled upper arm and the ones on his hand are old ones from home. Since November, he's been covered in even more scars, but they pale next to his new ones, ragged slashes still redly fading.
He hopes to find a midnight snack without disturbing anyone. In his hand he examines a box labeled Cap'n Trench.