Chapter Text
1:41 AM
“Kaminari nooooo!” Midoriya was not a yeller by any means. In fact, he was far better described as “contemplative”. But not today.
“Deku, it’s two in the morning--” Uraraka sighed, padding down into the commons as she rubbed at her eyes, brandishing her cell phone which had just received many emergency texts from her friend. Against her better judgement, she had hoped it was an actual emergency, but it seemed her hunch had been right all along. It was a fanboy emergency.
“Why is Kaminari short-circuiting the entire building at two in the morning?!” Midoriya asked, eyes frantic as he paced the length of the rug in front of the TV, staring at the static in panic. “The All Might Silver Age documentary reruns are tonight and the TV’s not working and the internet is down and--”
“You see All Might every single day ,” Uraraka sighed, grabbing a blanket off the couch and opting to make herself a snug blanket burrito. “Do you really need to see the doc--”
“The Silver Age documentary is renowned , alright?! The interviews, the bonus footage, the--”
“Oi, De ku!” Uraraka, who had been so close to wrapping herself up in a snug enough cocoon to fall asleep, jumped and dropped half of the blanket at the gruff voice echoing from the elevators.
“Kacchan?” Midoriya looked over to see Bakugo storming across the commons, annoyance palpable in the narrowing of his eyes and the ever-present snarl across his face.
He better stop doing that if he doesn’t want to look gross when he’s a wrinkly old man, Uraraka mused, wondering if it was in her description as “Best Friend #1” to stay behind and back Midoriya up in what was bound to become a screaming match. I need some sleep anyways, maybe I should just go…
Bakugo squared up, as if he was going into battle. To be fair, talking to him always felt like a physical altercation. “What the fuck are you doing, making a goddamn racket at two in the morning you shit-faced--”
“Midoriya, I’m so sorry!” Kaminari was the next new arrival to the commons, hair frizzy with static and eyes looking somewhat dazed.
“What is this?! A fucking party?!?” Bakugo demanded, jaw clenching so hard Uraraka wondered if he would break a tooth. That would be pretty funny though.
“Bakubro!” Kaminari yelled, far too loud for the witching hour this impromptu gathering was taking place in. “Why are you here?”
“Why are any of you here?!” Bakugo seethed. He looks like a constipated volcano, was Uraraka’s genius, sleep-deprived, inner commentary. Wow. Maybe I should do stand-up.
“I short-circuited the entire building,” Kaminari said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“The All Might Silver Age documentary was airing with never before seen footage!” Midoriya mourned.
“You’ve seen the entire thing a goddamn twenty-seven times, De ku!” Bakugo groaned, realizing, just like Uraraka had, that he was going to be losing sleep for nothing more than Midoriya’s obsessive whims.
“But this time they have never-before-seen footage ,” Midoriya said in a tone that made it seem like he was pleading for his life.
Why are you so dramatic, Uraraka thought, beginning the process of cocooning herself in the blanket again. She’d fallen asleep in the same room as Midoriya’s incessant mutterings more times than she could count-- perhaps if she tried hard enough she could just tune out the rabble and pass out on the couch.
“I can get the TV to work again!” Kaminari offered, looking rather guilty. “I promise, I didn’t mean to short-circuit, I was just watching a vine compilation, and I saw the “Hurricane Katrina? More like Hurricane Tortilla !” vine, and you know that one always gets me so--”
“God damnit Pikachu, stop running your mouth and just fix the fucking TV!” Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest as he flopped onto the couch, wearing an expression that made it seem like he was forced to be there.
“Why are you sitting down?” Uraraka asked, dread creeping into her voice.
“Why do you think, pink cheeks?” Bakugo seethed. “It’s never-before-seen.”
It was Uraraka’s turn to groan. Just because he looked like the human equivalent of a murderous pomeranian didn’t mean that Bakugo was any less of a fanboy than Midoriya, the fanboy-lord himself.
“What’s taking so long, dunce-face?” Bakugo yelled, voice rising to a decibel that would have probably blown her eardrums if the combined noise levels of class 1-A hadn’t already made her near deaf. “It can’t be that hard to just boot some goddamn electricity into that stupid thing!”
“Why are you all up right now, and why didn’t you invite me?” Kirishima yelled, running into the commons, looking as though he’d thought he was running late. “I would’ve expected it from you, Bakugo, but Midoriya? Come on!”
“I didn’t invite anyone,” Midoriya protested, “but everyone is welcome! It’s an All Might documentary, after all!”
“Haven’t you already seen every single one of them--”
“Oi, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo snarled. “Shut the hell up and sit down or get out.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Kirishima chirped, plopping down just as Kaminari managed to get the TV to stop showing lines of dancing static.
God, this is going to be a mess, Uraraka thought, and was about to turn to leave when Midoriya grabbed the corner of her blanket cocoon, making it unravel. He didn’t even seem to notice.
“Uraraka-san,” he mumbled, not even taking his eyes off the screen, even if the only things playing were commercials. “Why don’t you stay? You’re going to like it.”
The brunette sighed. Oh well, it wasn’t like she was going to be getting any sleep soon anyways, with the party down here raising hell. “Fine,” she mumbled, mourning the loss of her blanket burrito once again. I need to ask Aizawa-sensei where he gets his sleeping bags, she decided, flopping down on the couch. Unfortunately, in a fit of sleeplessness, she hadn’t looked at the cushions as she sat down, making a whole cloud of Aoyama’s glitter rise from the couch and flutter down.
Uraraka had definitely developed a vendetta against glitter in the past months at UA, but she didn’t even get a chance to bemoan the amount of shampoo it was going to take to get the god-forsaken sparkles out of her hair. Someone got to it before her.
“What the fuck ?!” Bakugo yelled, getting up. “Is that the Glitter Fuck’s goddamn sparkles? ” He seemed to have gotten the worst of it, his hair glistening and catching light from the flickering of the TV.
“Kacchan, it’s starting--” Midoriya cut in, seemingly unconcerned about the glitter that had found a home everywhere on him, even his eyelashes. Bakugo and I probably look like premium glitter slime, but Deku looks unfairly like a forest sprite, Uraraka thought bitterly.
“I’m glittery, do you think I fucking care? ”
Uraraka pulled the blanket over her head, hoping that whoever owned it wouldn’t be bothered by the sparkles. It was about to be a long night.
2:28 AM
They were only a quarter of the way through the documentary when they heard a sudden screech from behind the couch. Iida stood in the shadows, glasses glinting angrily, smoke rising behind him from his legs. Uraraka refused to look, but she could already tell that there was probably going to be marks burned into the floor.
“What is the meaning of this?!” he cried, waving his arms haphazardly. Uraraka had to duck her head to avoid being clobbered.
“I-Iida-kun!” Midoriya stammered, eyes lighting up with a mixture of fear and excitement. “The never-before-seen All Might documentary is on and I can’t afford to miss it because it has exclusive footage and rare interviews and—”
“Shut up, you fucking nerd” Bakugo hissed, flicking Midoriya’s head and cutting him off abruptly, acting as if he hadn’t also sacrificed his precious beauty sleep to be watching said documentary. “Do you want to watch it or not?”
Iida looked positively stunned. “Tomorrow’s a school day! We can’t just waste our sleeping time on a movie! Every minute you spend staring at a screen is one you could be using to rest and recover—”
And every second you speak, you look more and more like a drowning robot , Uraraka thought wearily, burying herself deeper into her blanket to avoid Iida’s flailing arms as he continued to scold them. She really needed to get her hands on one of Aizawa-sensei’s sleeping bags.
Eventually, Iida realized that none of his classmates were paying him any attention — no one was making a move to go back to their rooms. If anything, he realized as he saw Ashido and Hagakure tiptoeing down the stairs, his yelling had caused more of a ruckus than the documentary itself.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. What kind of class representative am I? he thought, dropping onto one of the couches and crossing his arms in defeat.
“What’s going on?” Hagakure asked. Midoriya was convinced she was looking his way, but there was no way to tell. It suddenly occurred to him that she could wear contacts that would help everyone see where she was (they’d had far too many tripping accidents), but the thought of floating red pupils was almost enough to distract him from the interview on screen.
“Uh-” he said, rather eloquently.
Before he could form a response, Kirishima turned and grinned. “We’re having a watch party!” Ashido squealed and looped her arm around Hagakure’s. Or at least, it looked like she did. Midoriya found himself half-wishing for the floating contacts as the pair traipsed over to the couch.
“Can we have a spa day?” Ashido asked, pulling at her hair. “I haven’t deep-conditioned my hair in forever and we totally need to re-do our nails!”
Midoriya imagined that Hagakure was nodding furiously as her sleeves trembled in excitement. “I want to do Midoriya’s hair!” she cried. “It’s so pretty and soft!”
“What??” said Midoriya — and Uraraka — as Ashido grabbed a fistful of his hair.
“It is soft!”
Bakugo scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?! He looks like broccoli !”
“Well, good thing that’s my favorite vegetable,” Ashido cackled with a wink. “I’ll be right back. Hagakure?”
“On it!” The invisible girl took the moment to vault over the couch in a show of gymnastics that people would have been more comfortable seeing from her if they had even seen her during training in the first place.
“Hagakure-san!” Midoriya protested, squished under a tangle of limbs but eyes still glued stubbornly to the TV as if his life depended on it. “Hagakure-san, I can’t breathe --”
“Shh!” Hagakure said, pinning Midoriya down. “Or you won’t be able to hear the TV!”
Apparently, that was enough of a threat to shut him up. Uraraka watched, wondering if she had stumbled into the twilight zone when Shoji walked in, bags under his eyes only more frightening when added to the way he was slumping. The weight of those arms is probably enough to give him back problems, she thought, looking at his numerous limbs. Or would it give him shoulder problems? Are multiple arms like having really big boobs?
“I’m back~!” Ashido yelled, making Iida smack his head repeatedly on the back of the couch. “And look who I brought!” She struck a pose reminiscent of Kirishima’s favorite Will Smith meme, gesturing grandly to Yaoyurozu, who looked as bewildered as Uraraka would have been feeling if she hadn’t given up on feeling emotions hours ago.
“What’s going on?” The ravenette asked softly, voice calming even amidst the chaos going down in the commons.
“Midoriya’s having a watch party!” Kaminari said excitedly, looking a bit frazzled and more than a bit ridiculous with various wires sandwiched between his fingers and dangling off the side of his lips. I should be grossed out by the fact that Kaminari’s spit is on every piece of technology in a two mile radius, Uraraka thought distantly. But this is just my life now, I guess. I have accepted the Kaminari spit.
“It’s not a watch party--” Midoriya began again.
“It’s going to be a spa day!” Hagakure interrupted.
“Spa night,” Iida sighed. “It’s not even three AM, unfortunately. And we have class tomorrow.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Todoroki said, stepping into the commons, face as impassive as ever.
Great, Uraraka sighed, snuggling further into her glittery blanket. As if the authors hadn’t shoved enough people in here already. Can the plot start already, or are we still going to be doing a character roll-call? Patience, my dear Uraraka, the authors said from their omnipresence. Patience is, after all, a virtue.
“Todoroki-kun,” Iida said with a curt nod. “Regrettably, I’ve failed to stop this watch party. Naturally, I decided the next best course of action was to control noise levels until the documentary is over.”
“How the great Iida-kun has fallen,” Todoroki mumbled dryly, clambering over the back of the couch and perching on the side precariously.
“If y’all extras are gonna stay, then you better fucking shut up ,” Bakugo growled, failing to hide how his eyes were just as glued to the screen as Midoriya’s.
“Down, boy,” Todoroki said in his monotone, dodging a sparking explosion that came flying out of Bakugo’s palm.
“You wanna fucking go, Katy Perry?!” the blonde yelled, voice as loud and grating as his explosions.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” Todoroki said simply, sitting back down. “I’m fine right here, thank you.”
Ashido cackled, dragging Yaoyorozu over to the still-pinned Midoriya as Kirishima began holding Bakugo back. “We’re doing Midoriya’s hair!!” She said excitedly.
“Oh,” Yaoyorozu said, looking doubtful. “Is he okay with that?”
The three girls looked down at Midoriya, who seemed to have tuned out the entire world. Instead, his eyes were scarily-wide open, rivaling Aizawa’s dry-eye as he blankly mouthed every word in the documentary before it had played.
“It would be creepy if he didn’t look so much like a fairy right now,” Hagakure said, tapping a lock of Midoriya’s hair and causing a small puff of glitter to rise.
“It looks creepy anyways,” Uraraka sighed, wondering if she could make a burrow in the couch. Would anyone even notice if she left?
“This is a mess,” Shoji commented, having found a spot on the couch next to her.
“You can say that again,” she sighed, fighting the urge to ask him if his multiple arms were worse or better for his spine than having big boobs. But he hasn’t ever had boobs, how would he know? She snuck a glance at Shoji, sizing him up. Are his pecs the same weight as boobs? Maybe they are, just less… squishy?
“Uraraka-san, are you alright?”
The brunette blinked, blood flooding her face as she hurriedly looked away. “Amazing, Shoji-kun. I’m doing absolutely amazing.” I’m losing my goddamn mind.
3:01 AM
After finally growing tired of Kirishima’s continuous complaints of being hungry, Bakugo caved and decided to cook something. It may have been three in the goddamn morning, but after staying awake for long, he had gotten hungry as well. Besides, the never-before-seen footage had already aired and he didn’t want to risk looking too much like a fanboy.
Midoriya, on the other hand, had no such qualms. He went ahead staring at the TV like a starving man stares at food, acting as though he didn’t see All Might every single day (and ignoring the fact that the prohero had practically adopted him at this point). Unfortunately for him, Ashido and the other girls (even Uraraka, who had finally given in) took advantage of his devotion to All Might to unleash their makeover skills on him.
“Does he even notice?” Kirishima asked, draping himself over the kitchen counter as he watched what he assumed were Hagakure’s invisible hands (if they weren’t, they might have a poltergeist problem) make tiny, glittery braids in Midoriya’s curly hair. “Or is he really that absorbed?”
“Deku would’ve been dead years ago if there weren’t people to pull him out of those fucking nerdy rabbit holes he goes down,” Bakugo grumbled, pulling marinated chicken out of the fridge. “He has no goddamn self-preservation.”
“Is it just me, or do you sound worried , Bakubro?” Kirishima teased, smirking over pointy teeth.
“Watch it, shitty hair.”
Kirishima raised his hands up in surrender, looking over at Midoriya and the girls again with muted interest. “They’re painting his nails.”
“So fucking what?” Bakugo pulled a bottle of some obscure spice from the cabinet, one that had been marked with a scarily neon skull and crossbones. “They can put him in a dress for all I care.”
Kirishima ignored Bakugo’s ranting. After all, if anyone listened to all the bullshit that he spewed, they would surely lose their minds. “Maybe I should ask them to do mine,” he mused out loud. “Do you think I should do red? Or black? Which one would go with my hero outfit?”
“You’re going to look stupid ,” Bakugo said simply, as if stating simple fact. “Especially when you get all fucking pointy.”
“I shouldn’t have asked the fashion icon,” Kirishima sighed, pushing himself up off of the counter and making his way back to the commons. Shoji had fallen asleep with his eyes open (and was scaring everyone in the vicinity) while Kaminari, still plugged into the TV and now various phones and other outlets, was staring at the ceiling blankly.
“I think he’s about to short-circuit,” Jirou sighed, leaning over him and nudging him with her foot. “Hey, idiot, don’t go all stupid on us.”
“What’s the other 98% of 2% milk?” Kaminari asked, blinking slowly.
“And… we’ve lost him.”
3:36 AM
“What are they doing ?” Ojiro asked, watching Kirishima and Ashido stare deep into each other’s eyes on the other end of the room.
Shoji shrugged. “Staring contest?” he suggested.
“With their tongues?” Sero wondered. Ojiro quickly looked away, blushing, and Shoji chuckled.
Bakugo scowled, brandishing a spatula threateningly. “Get a fucking room, if you’re gonna suck face, losers. Ain’t nobody wanna see that shit.”
To everyone’s dismay, the two barely noticed, although Todoroki did catch Tokoyami glancing quickly at Asui. He frowned and stroked his chin, searching the recesses of his mind for any evidence of future love children.
For now, he turned his attention to Midoriya, who’d finally finished the documentary and realized he’d undergone an unexpected makeover. “What happened to me??” he cried, examining his newly painted nails and hair.
“I think you look really pretty,” Todoroki noted.
Asui nodded, as serious as he’d ever seen her. “Ribbit. Those braids are a good look for your hair color, ribbit. What do you think, Ochako-chan?”
Uraraka shrugged, still upset she hadn’t been the one braiding his hair. “I think they look fine.” When Todoroki narrowed his eyes (probably forming another theory in his head), she waved her arms, flustered. “They look great!! Right, Iida-kun?”
The class representative nodded furiously, mirroring her arm movements — was she really picking up on his habits? Sheesh.
“Despite the irrationality of this watch party, your hair has undergone some major improvements,” Iida said, smiling. Midoriya frowned, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult, while Uraraka giggled on the couch.
“Oi, enough about his stupid hair,” Bakugo yelled, storming in from the kitchen.
“I thought you couldn’t care less,” Kirishima called out from where he was still pinned against the wall by an overzealous Ashido.
“Shut the hell up and keep it in your pants, Shark Week!” Bakugo yelled back, storming over to the couch with a pan that was sizzling too audibly for anyone to be entirely comfortable. “Hey, nerd,” he said, shoving the pan in Midoriya’s general direction. Everyone else flinched back minutely.
“What,” Uraraka said blankly, looking between the two boys, confused. Midoriya didn’t say a word, just poked at the spatula sticking out of the pan, taste-testing a bite.
“Your communication is phenomenal,” Todoroki said, looking at them, unimpressed.
“You could have asked him nicely,” Iida scolded with crossed arms.
“Why the fuck does it matter to you?!” Bakugo yelled, the spatula threatening to fall out of the pan. “He did it and that’s all that matters!”
“Needs some salt, Kacchan,” Midoriya said as he finally got up from the couch, twisting out of the maze of limbs and blankets. He stopped and stared at his feet.
“You did my toes too?” he asked, half-impressed. “When??”
Hagakure (presumably) smiled, raising a finger to her lips. “It’s a secret!” she said.
4:11 AM
Bakugo stomped back into the kitchen, snatched a salt shaker and seasoned his breakfast with such ferocity that Dark Shadow crept to Bakugo’s side, and whispered, “That’s about as salty as your soul,” before sneaking back to Tokoyami.
Bakugo scowled and flung the shaker at him, screaming, “control your emo bird, idiot!” He spooned the contents of the pan into a large serving bowl and set it down on the counter, stalking off as if he hadn’t been the most domestic housewife of them all, making breakfast for a whole twenty people.
Kaminari, Jirou, Sero, and even Kirishima and Ashido scrambled to the table, loading their plates with the food. “I’m starved!” Kaminari complained, stuffing his face full of eggs. Sero nodded, about to follow suit, when he saw Kirishima and Ashido’s faces reddening.
“Are you guys okay?” he asked, tasting his own plate, before his eyes began to water. “It’s s-s—” he stuttered, trying and failing to blow on his own tongue.
“--salty, Kacchan. It’s just a little too salty now,” Midoriya noted, failing to notice the incredulous looks his friends were giving him.
“SPICY!” Kaminari burst out, furiously waving his hands in front of his tongue, before letting out a sudden discharge of electricity. The room went dark.
“Great, you idiot,” Jirou said. “First you fried your brain, now you’ve fried the lights!”
“Yay… spicy…” was his only response.
“I need milk!” Ashido screeched. There was the sound of scrambling feet, and a sudden squeal as Ashido tripped over something — or someone?
“Oh, shoot,” she said, the realization dawning on her, just as Hagakure let out an undignified screech.
“What the hell Mina--”
“What are you yelling at me for?? Why are you on the floor anyways!?” Ashido demanded between pants.
“Sato’s on the floor!” Hagakura protested, presumably getting up.
“Well Sato isn’t freaking invisible --”
“I didn’t ask to be invisible--”
Aoyama sighed. “It looks like it’s truly up to moi to take care of things,” he exclaimed, proceeding to shoot a hole in the wall with his navel laser.
The room erupted into chaos.
4:59 AM
Sato had somehow been coerced into making overly-sugary cupcakes for everyone to help them with their burning tongues. Seeing as all the milk that was in the entire dorm was currently painting the floor of the kitchen, it made sense.
Nobody had had the energy to clean the mess up (for the mad struggle to the fridge afterwards had overturned many a box of cereal and a lot of the breakfast Bakugo had cooked up). Koda had graciously offered to talk the bugs into staying away, and since Iida had passed out cold on the armchair near the TV a whole hour ago, there was nobody responsible enough to make any progress on making the kitchen walkable. Even Midoriya had just smiled awkwardly and shuffled away, mumbling something about nail polish remover.
Despite all this, Sato was hungry as well and he simply couldn’t go long without baking. So he sucked it up, asked Yaoyorozu for a pair of rainboots, and stomped his way into the disgustingly soaked kitchen, baking as though the mess under his feet didn’t even exist.
Meanwhile, Todoroki sat on the arm of the couch in the commons, arms crossed as he gave everyone bits of ice to numb their tongues with. He was trying his best not to sulk but God. It was just so weird to see his ice in everyone’s mouth.
“Itsh sthuck,” Kaminari said around the ice now somehow attached to his tongue, making Jirou facepalm.
“Can I have more,” Sero asked, panting. “I think I swallowed it.”
“How do you swallow a chunk that big!?” Uraraka asked, utterly flabbergasted.
“With that bigass mouth of his, duh,” Bakugo called from his spot where he was happily eating all the breakfast that everyone had abandoned (whatever hadn’t ended up on the kitchen floor, anyways).
“Kacchan,” Midoriya sighed, putting his hands on his hips and making another cloud of Aoyama’s glitter rise up. He sounded like a disappointed mother, his braided curls and decorated nails only adding to the image. “They’re dying.”
“Shut up, fairy boy,” Bakugo growled back, shoving a bowl at him. “Are you going to fucking eat it or not?”
Uraraka turned away, bemoaning whatever misguided soul taught Bakugo the art of communication and making a note to shame them for the terrible job they’d done as soon as she got a chance.
5:15 AM
The students sat in a squashed circle in the middle of the commons, somewhat calmer now, thanks to the ice. Suddenly, Shinso sauntered in, looking for all the world like he’d just woken up (on the other hand, he’d pulled an all-nighter watching The Bee Movie and couldn’t be bothered to join everyone else).
“This looks like a cult,” he said, flashing a grin. 19 pairs of eyes blinked back at him as he settled onto the floor. “Who are we going to sacrifice today?”
“W-what?” Uraraka stammered, just as Dark Shadow whispered (loudly), “Bakugo.”
“Say it to my fucking face, Big Bird!” Bakugo yelled, still having enough energy to get up and punch the air as Dark Shadow lazily darted out of his reach.
Shinso ignored their arguments and took out a pack of cards. “Any of you know how to play?” he asked, starting to shuffle the deck.
“Poker??” Kirishima leapt to his feet in childish excitement. “Are we going to gamble? That’s so manly !”
“Is risking your life savings manly, Kirishima-kun?” Todoroki asked, serious and deadpan. “Think about your wife and children.”
Kirishima gasped, just as Asui piped up. “How can you protect your family if you don’t have any money?”
The redhead was now pale, worried about a family that he didn’t even have. “You’re all right,” he said suddenly, with a fist-pump that was far too energetic for the almost-all-nighter they had pulled. “I’ll never gamble! It’s not manly at all!”
Shinso ignored him, already passing out the cards. Todoroki unabashedly reached forward to take a deck, shuffling through them with muted interest as Kirishima gaped. “Why are you playing, Todoroki! You can’t be a deadbeat either! Like I just said, it isn’t manly!”
Todoroki looked him in the eye with a level, cold stare. “Even a deadbeat dad is better than mine.”
5:32 AM
Bakugo threw down his deck, and Shinso had to duck to avoid the explosion that was aimed his way.
“Stop winning ,” Bakugo seethed, fingertips crackling threateningly with explosive sweat. “You’re not any better than me just cause you won a few games, stupid Eyebags! Let’s see you in a real fight - can you take me?”
“I can,” Shinso smirked. “Can you?”
“I-” Bakugo’s face went slack and everyone groaned. It was the third time this had happened.
“Your turn, Kaminari,” Jiro said, gesturing towards Bakugo. Kaminari sighed and crawled over to slap him out of the trance.
“Oi, Kacchan,” he said, crawling quickly out of Bakugo’s reach as he swiped at him in anger, conscience returned. “Calm down! It’s only Go Fish!”
5:46 AM
CRACK!
Ojiro hid his face as everyone screamed. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to use his tail to pick up his cards. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to take into consideration the fact that
1) Kaminari had been holding on to his tail, and he’d gone flying from the room as soon as Ojiro picked up the card.
2) He hadn’t done his morning stretches, causing every single one of his joints to pop. Loudly.
“Sorry,” he muttered, quickly getting up to retrieve Kaminari.
5:53 AM
“If you +4 me, IcyHot, I’m going to rip your fucking face off!” Bakugo screamed. Shinso winced, still unused to his volume, and Uraraka wondered how his vocal cords weren’t destroyed yet.
Todoroki gave a rare smile, though inwardly he was wondering if Bakugo was the unfortunate result of a quirk marriage that involved someone with an explosive quirk and… Present Mic?
“Give it your best shot,” he said instead. “I’m ready for death.”
Shinso shook his head. “No, me first.”
6:02 AM
Uraraka, despite her best efforts to stay awake and enjoy the rest of the apocalyptic chaos, was passed out on one end of the insanely long couch, the other end newly home to Ashido and Kirishima, who had slumped over on top of her as he snored.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” Ojiro sighed sadly, “I want them back.”
Shoji looked over at the kitchen, quickly looking away again as he caught a glimpse of Tokoyami and Asui (who were currently playing the “will-they-won’t-they game” in terms of dating) sharing a plate of still-alive-and-wriggling worms.
Ojiro risked a glance out of morbid curiosity, instantly regretting it when he witnessed the two of them pull a Lady-and-Tramp spaghetti scene but with a slimy worm. “I’m never going to get that cursed image out of my head,” he moaned, trying to keep from throwing up his whole stomach (a thought that instantly reminded him of Asui’s ability to do that exact thing, only serving to further nauseate him).
“Come on,” Shoji sighed. “Let’s go ask Shinso.”
6:17 AM
Midoriya was excitedly (and somewhat deliriously) showing off his favorite All Might onesie (yes, he had an adult sized All Might onesie, despite the prohero being pretty much his father at this point) to a seemingly-disinterested Bakugo (read: Bakugo was very interested and very tempted to ask where he could buy one) as Iida paced the length of the rug, engines in his legs smoking as he mumbled, almost sounding like Midoriya himself.
“I’ve been so irresponsible,” Iida mumbled, running a hand through his hair in what sounded like the midst of a mental breakdown. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“Hey,” Midoriya said, leaving Bakugo to go up to their class representative. “It’s not your fault, it’s kind of everyone’s fault.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bakugo yelled from where he’d draped himself across the armrest in a position that was strangely reminiscent of a cat. “You’re the one who started this whole mess!”
“ Me?!” Midoriya said, looking taken aback. “What did I do?! All I wanted was to watch the never-before-seen footage of the Silver Age documentary--”
“And you woke the whole goddamn dorm up!”
“Don’t act like you didn’t want to see it too, Kacchan!!” Midoriya shot back, turning to grab the TV remote as Uraraka accidentally made it float in the midst of her sleep.
“That’s beside the point!” Bakugo fired back, crossing his arms.
“That’s literally the point--” Midoriya lunged, grabbing a blanket and a pillow that had been about to float away to the ceiling.
“I’m going to resign as Class Representative,” Iida said suddenly, blood draining from his face. “I’m a disgrace.”
“Iida-kun what?!” Midoriya whorled around, staring at his friend with wide eyes before grabbing a floating bottle of nail polish.
“I have to do it, it’s not right for me to continue after failing all of you like this,” Iida said, looking far too resolute.
“Oi, Deku, look at me when I’m yelling at you!” Bakugo screamed from Midoriya’s right as he reached out and snapped up a hairbrush that had been about to take flight.
“Kacchan, Iida’s having a mental breakdown, okay?! We can argue about this late--”
Midoriya never got to finish his sentence, for the next thing Uraraka sent floating was not something he could grab with his bare hands. Even Bakugo fell silent as the massive couch in the middle of the room upended and floated clear off of the ground, knocking Uraraka, Ashido, and Kirishima clear off of it.
Ashido let out a yelp, black eyes snapping open as a stream of acid shot out from her hands. “Uraraka-san!” Midoriya yelled, running forwards and trying in vain to catch the couch as if it wasn’t floating above them like a particularly nefarious balloon at the moment.
Uraraka took that moment to blink herself awake as if she had been jostled gently and not thrown off of a couch in midair, mumbling “Release,” before anyone could protest.
There was another scream as the couch came crashing down. Nobody could tell who it was, especially with the lights still not back on after what Sero called “Kaminari’s little accident” (to which Kaminari protested, “Stop making it sounds like I pissed myself!”).
“Ashido-san! Kirishima-kun!” Midoriya ran across the room, vaulting over the coffee table and pushing up the couch with a level of ease that was truly unfair. Todoroki stalked over, flames cupped in the palm of his left hand, casting long shadows across the dark room.
Under the couch was Ashido on her back, hands melting through a whole layer of the precious wooden flooring in a way that would undoubtedly make Present Mic wail in despair. The acid sizzled even as Kirishima’s hardened hands were planted in it, not breaking through his skin. He had jumped over his girlfriend, the couch breaking in half over the rock spikes in his back. The concerned look in his eyes didn’t match his hardened state. “Mina,” he breathed as the others began to come over, looking concerned. “Are you alright?”
Midoriya pushed the couch away, making it fall on its side next to the TV.
“Yeah,” Ashido mumbled. “I’m good.”
“I’m so sorry!” Uraraka said, blood rising to her face. “I usually wear gloves when I sleep, but I just passed out and I forgot! I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Her words went completely unnoticed by the two that were currently cuddling in a puddle of acid. “You’re my prince charming, aren’t you Red Riot, ” Ashido said coyly.
“You’re a hero too, Pinky, ” Kirishima said back, face unhardening.
“But you’re my hero,” the pink girl laughed, wrapping her arms around Kirishima’s neck and accidentally melting away a whole patch of his shirt. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.
Ojiro groaned, burying his face in his hands as the two of them went back to making out. “I can’t believe I ever said that I missed them.”
6:38 AM
“Hey!” Kaminari yelled as Bakugo shoved him aside to sit on the couch. “I was sitting there!”
Whatever Bakugo’s response was, it was never heard as Todoroki startled awake from his fitful sleep, accidentally freezing half a couch cushion.
“What the hell, Ice Pack?!” Bakugo yelled, launching himself off the room to keep from getting frostbite at the buttcrack of dawn. “Control yourself, goddamnit! Are you a child ?”
Todoroki ignored Bakugo in favor of quietly catching on fire, watching the ice melt off the couch with an odd sense of calm that was frightening even months after the class had become accustomed to it.
“That’s the third time!” Hagakure moaned, groaning as she stomped back up to her room. Sleep-deprived Todoroki did terrible things to the temperature, and having changed into shorts and a tank to beat the heat of Todoroki’s left side, Hagakure was quite disheartened she would have to go back up and grab a sweater again to beat the chill that had suddenly taken over the room.
Meanwhile, Yaoyurozu had fallen asleep on Jirou’s shoulder, Uraraka and Asui at their feet, off to the side of the only couch that was still somewhat intact (even the armchair had been taken out when Bakugo leaped across the room after getting kicked out of a game of spoons). Meanwhile, Sato was still at work in the kitchen, creating rows of little cupcakes decorated to look like the hero costumes of Class 1-A (though the need for cupcakes had died hours ago on account of everyone munching ice, much to Todoroki’s dismay). Shoji, Koda, and Ojiro were lingering by the cupcakes, helping Sato out and walking in rain boots (courtesy of Yaoyorozu) over the still-milky floor of the kitchen.
Aoyama lay across the coffee table, a fluffy pillow under his head and a mask over his eyes in a desperate attempt to “catch his beauty sleep”, as he put it. Everyone left him unbothered for the fear of putting another hole through the wall.
Kaminari was plugged into pretty much every single person’s phone, bundled up in a blanket up against the side of the coffee table, mumbling under his breath as he tried to stay awake with Shinso, Sero, Midoriya, Bakugo, Ashido, Kirishima, all of whom seemed to have some vendetta against sleep. Or rather, Shinso was the King Insomniac, Sero and Midoriya were seasoned experts, Bakugo would rather jump straight off a skyscraper than lose to anyone (though the fact that he thought falling asleep earlier was “losing” was quite concerning) and Ashido and Kirishima were having too much fun watching the four of them (and being a little too lovey-dovey) that they refused to sleep as well.
So hell if Kaminari was going to be the only one passing out in the Bakusquad. What if he missed something fun?! As a result, despite his better judgment (assuming he had any), he stayed stubbornly awake, slamming his head on the table now and then (and dislodging wires from his mouth in the process) to keep himself from drifting asleep.
“You okay?” Kirishima asked, voice husky.
“Tot--totally,” Kaminari slurred, giving a weak smile.
“Is there a synonym for synonym?” Sero asked, head lolling back as he stared at the ceiling.
“Why the fuck does it matter?!” Bakugo yelled, startling Todoroki awake again, and this time, starting a fire.
Kaminari sighed and flopped over onto his side on the floor. Maybe running out of charge and passing out before everyone else wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.
7:00 AM
Aizawa squinted as the morning rays of sunlight hit his eyes, wishing he hadn’t left his eyedrops in his apartment. Oh well, too late to walk back now. Sighing, he shaded his face and trudged down the path leading to the student dorms.
He paused behind the door, eyes widening in surprise when he heard laughing, chattering, and one of Jiro’s ungodly rock songs playing on full volume. He thought it might be Chasing Cars , then twitched in embarrassment as he wondered why that piece of knowledge was in his brain. What had his life come to?
Carefully, he pushed open the door and peeked into the commons room. Aizawa gazed slowly around the room, taking in the mess of cards strewn across the floor, the spilled milk in the kitchen, the dirty dishes, and — was that a hole in the wall? Why was their couch upside down?
Slamming the door shut, Aizawa turned on his heel and (speed) walked away. Nope, not today, he thought to himself.
Halfway across the pathway, he forced himself to stop and turn back. It’s your class , a little voice inside him scolded. “I should have expelled this entire class on day one,” Aizawa muttered to himself, turning the doorknob and stepping inside.
The entire class froze and carefully swiveled their heads to look up at him. They look like bobbleheads, Aizawa thought. Had it been any other day, he would have chuckled, but the disaster that lay before him quickly stemmed his amusement.
“Do I even want to know?” he asked. The fragile calm in the room suddenly burst, and students began throwing explanations at him, left and right.
“You see, Bakugo’s food was too spicy—”
“--It’s not my fault you don’t have any tolerance for heat!”
“--And we wanted to do Midoriya’s hair and nails because he looks like a forest fairy—”
“Hagakure has to be dumb and invisible, cause she was laying on the floor for some reason—”
“You should watch where you’re going!”
“How can I, when our residential idiot killed the lights?--”
“Yay…?”
“--And then Bakugo and Midoriya—”
“Be quiet!” Aizawa yelled, eyes blazing red and hands grasping his capture weapon. He swore under his breath. “If I have to hear another excuse out of anyone, you’re all getting detention.” His hair flopped back into its normal position and he rubbed his irritated eyes. “Just… clean up. I don’t even want to know what happened. Class begins at 8. Everything better be the way it was before I left last night.”
He turned and began to walk towards the door, when Iida skidded to stop in front of his teacher, bowing emphatically. Uraraka winced as fresh burn marks appeared on the carpet, or what was left of it.
“This is my fault, Sensei,” he cried. “As class representative, I take full responsibility for everything that has happened. I-”
“No,” his teacher said, fixing him with a weary stare. “You’re not going to resign. Just clean up, for heaven’s sake.”
Iida shot up in relief and excitement. “Thank you, Aizawa-sensei. I will never ever let you down, run around, or desert you!” He paused. “Actually, I will run around…”
Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Is that… are you reciting the lyrics to Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up ?”
Iida nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Sensei! It’s a very admirable and respectable song.”
“Very manly!” Kirishima called from the background.
Asui tilted her head. “Ribbit. Aizawa-sensei, why do you know that song?” Shinso grinned. He already knew the answer.
Aizawa was already halfway out the door when he responded with one word — “Mic.”
7:23 AM
Uraraka barely managed to calm Iida down from his terrible meltdown (“I’m a disgrace,” he kept saying, to which she had to sigh and say “No, no you’re not,” until he ran out of energy) as the others began the terrible job of cleaning up. Todoroki, in some sleep deprived fit of momentary genius (or so he thought) decided it would be a sound idea to freeze all the milk that was spread across the kitchen floor, only succeeding in making a massive, clumpy (somewhat curdled) chunk of a makeshift-ice-skating rink that Ashido and Kirishima were enjoying a little too much.
“Guys,” Midoriya sighed, slumping on the mess of a counter and staring longingly at the cupcakes that Sato insisted weren’t finished yet. “We’re all going to get expelled.”
“If we’re going to get expelled anyways, might as well live it up while we can,” Sero said, tone such that one could’ve almost believed he was spouting some wise proverb. Kaminari nodded along sagely as Sero shot his tape at him, dragging him across the ice and sending him careening into the wall.
“Fucking idiots,” Bakugo grumbled under his breath, scrubbing a pan like his life depended on it (and in a way, it did), looking too much like an underappreciated housewife for anyone to take him seriously. “Go play your stupid games somewhere else, Discount Spidey, or I’m gonna strangle you with your own off-brand scotch tape.”
“Hey,” Sero said, looking somewhat insulted. “My tape’s better than Scotch!”
“We don’t have long,” Yaoyorozu pointed out, lips pursed and looking quite concerned under her fatigue. “We’re in trouble as it is.”
“Let’s go fix up the living room, Yaomomo,” Jirou said, grabbing her friend’s hand and dragging her away. Koda had already been hard at work there, doing his best to make the room somewhat presentable (read: unfortunately, no amount of effort could ever quite return the room to the way it used to be). Shoji and Dark Shadow worked at picking up the now-shattered milk-ice as Tokoyami continued to make puppy eyes (bird eyes?) at Asui, who obliviously picked things up with her tongue (“Does she not taste it?” Kaminari asked, looking a little afraid at the answer. “Better not to ask,” Shinso responded, looking as though he knew far too much).
Midoriya joined Bakugo at the dishes, scarred skin catching suds in strange patterns as he scrubbed mindlessly, fighting the urge to close his eyes and face plant into the sink. “Oi, nerd,” Bakugo muttered. “Don’t die on me, alright?! It’ll be a pain to explain that on top of the broken couch.”
Laughing, Midoriya stood upright, trying not to fall back at what was surely a sudden increase in the weight of his head. “I think the milk-ice is a bigger issue, Kacchan.”
In lieu of a response, Bakugo just snorted, scrubbing faster in some attempt at competition. Even though he hadn’t slept a wink all night, Midoriya was not one to back down, lightning crackling on the surface of his skin as he practically vibrated in an attempt to go faster.
“You’re going to erode all the dishes,” Sato cried out in dismay, but neither of them paid any mind to their classmate’s concern.
“They’re not going to listen to anyone else as soon as they start one of their dick-measuring contests,” Kaminari sighed, shaking his head and spazzing a little, making a flicker of electricity flicker across whatever had begun melting the milk-ice again.
“Goddamnit, Kami!” Ashido groaned, acting as if she was actually contributing to the clean-up instead of climbing her boyfriend like a tree in what was now broad daylight.
“The commons is as good as it’s gonna get,” Shinso called out from the other room. Uraraka left Iida sitting on a barstool to peek into the room, wincing at the state it was in. The couch had been repositioned with Sero’s tape wrapped around it haphazardly in an attempt to make it look whole again.
Unfortunately, it was not working. The cards and food had all been gathered and thrown away (whatever remained of the cards, anyways-- much of them had been lost in explosions) and Hagakure’s perfume had been sprayed around the room to hide the smell of smoke from Todoroki’s flames and the lingering scent of Bakugo’s spices and nitroglycerin in the air. All the wires Kaminari had pulled out from the wall were stuffed back into the gap behind the TV, because apparently nobody knew enough about TVs to figure out how to put them back.
I guess we’re gonna have to plug Kaminari in every time now, Uraraka thought, turning to see the hole that Ashido had made in the flooring with her acid and Aoyama’s matching counterpart in the wall.
Both were now covered by pretentious, glossy headshots of the sparkling blonde.
“What do you think?” Aoyama yelled, startling Uraraka as he popped over her shoulder with a ridiculous pose. “I think they quite liven up the room!”
“Haha, yeah….” Uraraka trailed off, holding her hands up in surrender and high-tailing it out of there as quickly as she could. She cast a glance over at the clock (though she could barely see it, with how her eyes simply refused to focus) and then over at Bakugo and Midoriya, who seemed to be on the verge of another one of their challenges. “We’re going to be late,” Uraraka said loudly, grabbing Midoriya by the sleeve. “You take forever, Deku. Come on.” She gestured to Iida as well, pretending not to notice Midoriya’s sputtering.
“It’s not my fault my hair looks like this ,” He grumbled, stumbling as he tried to walk on his own.
7:50 AM
“It’s not getting any better than this,” Sero sighed, looking around the kitchen and wincing as his feet stuck to the floor.
“I can finish the cupcakes after class,” Sato offered, voice betraying the fear that none of them may be around by then.
“God bless cupcakes,” Kaminari said simply, earning a slap on the head from Jirou as she walked past, a granola bar stuffed in her mouth.
“It’s 7:50 AM !!” Iida yelled, engines smoking again as he raced across the commons, hands and back board-stiff and sounding way too much like an overgrown alarm clock. “We’re going to be late! Everyone, we must leave now !”
“We get it, Glasses,” Bakugo grumbled, hands stuffed in his oversized pockets as he slumped down the stairs, looking as nonchalant as humanly possible. One by one, everyone started gathering, intent to head to their imminent death together, as a class. As a family.
“It’s already 7:55,” Asui commented a little while later. “We need to get going.”
Iida nodded his agreement, hoisting open the doors of their dorm with newfound determination. “Let us go forth!”
They’d already made it halfway down the sidewalk when Midoriya burst through the door, green flashes of lightning snaking across his legs as he pulled his tie over his head with one hand, holding a piece of toast in the other. “Don’t forget me!” He nearly stumbled onto his face, catching himself with his quirk and jolting ahead of the Class on accident.
“Oi, you trying to race or somethin’?” Bakugo growled, hands sparking before he even finished his sentence. Before poor Kirishima could pin down his friend, he was in the air, explosions echoing across the grounds, almost as loud as his curses.
“Bakugo-kun! Midoriya-kun! Please!” Iida yelled after them, voice loud enough that Todoroki started wondering how many of the people in his class were truly Present Mic’s secret love children.
Jirou sighed and looked over at Yaoyorozu, who wore a similar look of impending doom. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”
“Should anyone tell Midoriya he’s still all done up?” Uraraka wondered out loud, as if she wasn’t the boy’s best friend and it wasn’t her responsibility.
“Nah,” Kaminari said, and for some reason, everyone went along with it.
8:05 AM
All Might took one look at Midoriya and covered his mouth with his hand, struggling to hold back his laughter. “You look, uh, very pretty, young Midoriya,” he managed to say.
Mirio nodded earnestly beside him. “It’s nice to see you coming out of your shell!” he said, grinning widely. “Right, Tamaki?”
His friend was facing the wall on the opposite end of the gym, sighing sadly to himself and muttering something that sounded vaguely like “I wish I had that kind of confidence.” To Tamaki’s dismay, Ashido leapt up and danced over to where he was hiding. “I’d love to do your hair!” she exclaimed.
Kirishima pouted. “I thought you were gonna do my hair,” he protested.
”Nobody’s doing anyone’s hair,” Aizawa said, glaring. All Might pouted, looking crestfallen as he tugged at his own golden locks. Cementoss laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying his best to look reassuring (or whatever reassuring looked like on a slab of concrete).
“But Aizawa-kun,” All Might pleaded, clasping his hands together. Ectoplasm exchanged a look with Aizawa, trying to form a response to the number one hero’s unusual request. Fortunately, they were saved by the sound of the doors of the gym slamming open.
“Did you miss me~?” Midnight yelled, walking into the gym, her heels clicking on the floor.
“No,” Ectoplasm deadpanned. Midnight pouted, but seemed to get over it quickly as she turned back towards the gaping doors.
“I brought our little guest with us,” she said, wearing a suggestive smile.
“How does she make everything sound like innuendo?” Aizawa wondered, folding his arms as Midnight strolled into the room.
“Talent,” she replied, but nobody thought so.
“Ooh, a guest?!” Ashido sounded far too awake for not having slept at all in the past thirty-six hours.
“Don’t sound so excited,” Sero mumbled, voice still gravelly. “It’s probably a guest who’s gonna hand us our asses on a platter.”
“I’d like to see ‘em try,” Bakugo growled, putting on his best impression of a feral animal (not that he wasn’t always doing that).
“Midnight-sensei, as class representative, I will do my best to make our guest feel welcome!” Iida announced, waving his arms frantically.
“Oh, I hope you will,” Aizawa said, smiling. Smiling.
The class collectively shivered (even if Bakugo wouldn’t admit it, even over his own dead body). None of them had been this scared stiff since Dark Shadow had first taken to jumpscares after they’d all watched The Shining together.
Even his colleagues seemed taken aback. “You good?” Present Mic whispered (rather loudly), poking his friend as though worried he was a prop and not the real thing at all. “You look manic.”
“I’m fine,” Aizawa replied, smile unnervingly still on his face.
“I think he’s broken ,” Kaminari whispered urgently to Kirishima, only getting a hardened elbow to the ribs and at least five other people shushing him in response.
Aizawa turned on him, grin still stuck to his face. “You’re one to talk,” he noted.
“Go off, king,” Todoroki said, nodding solemnly. Everyone was too dead inside (and too afraid of being dead on the outside) to even react to Todoroki at all.
“Well, you’re not going to keep us waiting, are you?” Mirio asked, hands on his hips as he struck a classic hero pose. “Who’s our guest?”
Midnight, still seeming mildly disturbed by Aizawa’s antics, turned back to her guest. Behind her was a man that nobody had been paying attention to until moments before (and in the students’ defense, they were very much scared for their lives and sleep-deprived, so it wasn’t like they didn’t have other pressing issues). One my one, their eyes drifted to him, watching as he stepped out from behind Midnight, posing in a way that seemed reminiscent of an All Might dollar-store rip-off.
“I am here!” He yelled, voice booming and echoing against the gym walls. All Might coughed very surreptitiously into his hand. Midnight stepped away, looking as though she wanted to run to the other side of the gym.
“Yes, we can see that,” she said, sounding irritated. “Do you want to introduce yourself?”
“I’ve never heard her sound that snappy,” Kaminari mumbled, this time getting abused at the hands of Jirou as she smacked him across the back of his head. Thankfully, this mysterious visitor continued speaking, drawing attention away from “bully Kaminari day”.
“I assume you’ve heard of me, but it is I, Switchblade! ” His voice echoed again, this time going tinny and even making Present Mic cringe.
The confusion on the students’ faces was almost enough to break Aizawa out of his smiling stupor, and the rest of the teachers choked back their laughter. Many pairs of eyes turned to Midoriya, expecting him to start an excited rant about Switchblade and his quirk and every fight he had even been in, but to their surprise, even he looked bewildered.
“So… you’re good with knives, I presume?” Iida asked, looking impressed.
“Knives are for fucking losers,” Bakugo grumbled, crossing his arms.
“No, no, no, I don’t use knives!” Switchblade exclaimed, grinning. He gestured towards the blades hanging off his belt. “These are just for decoration!”
The students looked stunned, but the teachers sighed, as if they’d heard the hero’s spiel before.
“Your name is Switchblade ,” Kirishima said disbelievingly.
“Ah, well,” Switchblade looked nervous, fiddling with the ends of his cape (which, if Ashido was asked her opinion, looked like something straight out of Party City). “ Switch wasn’t really a cool name, y’know? And a bit on the nose too. I thought Switchblade sounded cool, and that I’d pick up knives at some point, but it just never happened.” The class stared back at him incredulously, not reacting in the slightest as Midoriya began his mumbling again.
“Enough with the introductions,” Aizawa sighed, his gloomy expression back. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Get on with what , exactly?” Kaminari whispered, feeling awfully like a lamb led to slaughter. This time, Ashido just slapped a hand over his mouth.
Switchblade smiled, face lighting up to a degree that made his light blue hair look icy. “I shall now dazzle you with a demonstration of my magnificent quirk!”
Aoyama frowned. “That’s my job, monsieur !” he protested, flinging a handful of glitter in the hero’s direction. Switchblade seemed to pay the glitter no mind, instead flourishing his cape as though beginning a bullfight.
“How long is he going to take?” Midnight grumbled, slumped against the wall in a way that was quite uncharacteristic of her.
“I wonder what he’s going to do,” Mirio said under his breath, standing up on his toes like a child trying to get a glimpse of whatever the strange hero was doing behind his cape.
Tamaki shrugged sadly. “It’s probably cooler than my quirk,” he sighed, still leaning against the wall as Switchblade continued to wiggle flamboyantly.
“The fuck is that maggot doing?” Bakugo grumbled, looking like he was one second away from blasting the hero into a space orbit.
For once, everyone agreed, and Aizawa’s incredulous smile returned to his face. Present Mic looked worriedly at him. “Help,” he whispered, looking pleadingly at his fellow teachers. They all backed away, unsure of whether to deal with the wriggling Switchblade or the grinning Aizawa.
“Sorry Mic,” Ectoplasm said, stepping away from both of them. “This seems like a personal problem.”
Bakugo seemed to be on the verge of spontaneous combustion (or a little bit more so than he usually was), turning red all the way up to his ears. “What the fuck is this? Is this supposed to be funny or some shit because it--”
Switchblade interrupted him, throwing aside his cape with a flourish and the smile of a man that had things to be proud of (it didn’t suit him at all). “VOILA~!”
There was a moment of absolute and utter silence. Nobody even breathed - Uraraka looked like she was about to pass out from the suspense. Nothing happened.
“Well that was an utter and complete waste of time,” Shinso said, picking at his nails nonchalantly. “Got any other party tricks for us? Gotta say, I was loving this one.”
Aizawa turned his grin towards Shinso (it was supposed to be proud and fatherly but even Shinso seemed slightly unnerved, and he was used to his teacher’s otherworldly expressions).
All Might, bless him, looked embarrassed on Switchblade’s behalf. “Switchblade-kun,” he began. “Maybe we could try this another day?”
“Oh no,” Aizawa said, grin stretched so wide that Present Mic wondered if he was going to pop his jaw. “He’s done plenty. Switchblade, why don’t you go ahead and tell us what you did?”
Switchblade puffed up his chest (it looked very strange, given his baby fat and thin neck on a buff body). Midoriya briefly wondered if he was wearing a muscle suit. “I,” he began, pausing for suspense. “Have…”
“Oh, spit it out already, you fucking dweeb!” Bakugo yelled, held back only by Kirishima’s rocky hands.
As if enjoying Bakugo’s frustration, Switchblade pulled another pose, eyes twinkling. “I have switched all of your quirks!”
There was another long, pregnant moment of silence.
“You fucking did WHAT?”