Those were the words his husband had said to him, all those years ago. Shoto stood stiffly beside the fresh laid grave, wondering whether it was anger, sadness, or simply acceptance that he was feeling.
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All those years. Joys that would never be shared. Laughter that would never be had. The bouquet of flowers rustled with the wind, under the tight grip of Shoto's left hand.
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All those years, with Midoriya at his side, working through the struggles they both faced. One last time. One last challenge.
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Tears starting to trickle down Shoto's face. He thought of his mother, the purity of feeling that it was to reconnect with her. Why did his past have to be the one that he had? But he knew why.
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All those years. The pain. The anguish. The stories people would tell about him, without knowing the truth.
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A hand reached out to his right shoulder, giving a light, gentle squeeze. "Shoto..."
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All those years. Shoto began heating his left hand. The flowers first wilting, then igniting. Burning slowly, the ash swirled around the headstone, until nothing was left. What would have once been a closed fist, now an open hand.
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"It's my quirk, not yours," said the last remaining Todoroki. Walking away, hand in hand with Izuku Midoriya, the one who saved him. All those years ago, finally over. The Flame Hero had finally grew cold.
My brother was diagnosed with depression years before I was, and because of that he started therapy years before I did.
I still remember when I was a young teen and he was playing a Nirvana song and he stopped it at this one line: “I miss the comfort of being sad”
He told me that when you start to get better, there’s a part of you that misses being sad and that if you start feeling that way you have to be extra extra aware and careful because if you indulge the feeling you’ll go down a self-destructive spiral
And even though that was years and years ago, I think about it all the time. Especially when I’m reading discourse on the idea of getting so attached to mental illness as an identity that you don’t want to improve things because you feel safe in it and don’t know who you are without it
I always think of that line “I miss the comfort of being sad” and my brother’s warning
My brother was diagnosed with depression years before I was, and because of that he started therapy years before I did.
I still remember when I was a young teen and he was playing a Nirvana song and he stopped it at this one line: “I miss the comfort of being sad”
He told me that when you start to get better, there’s a part of you that misses being sad and that if you start feeling that way you have to be extra extra aware and careful because if you indulge the feeling you’ll go down a self-destructive spiral
And even though that was years and years ago, I think about it all the time. Especially when I’m reading discourse on the idea of getting so attached to mental illness as an identity that you don’t want to improve things because you feel safe in it and don’t know who you are without it
I always think of that line “I miss the comfort of being sad” and my brother’s warning
i wonder how many “hey guys are super hot no homo tho hahaha” type guys would identify as bisexual if male bisexuality was talked about more often and not like… ignored and forgotten about