❛ 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔦 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲, 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲, 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫? 𝔦 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡. ❜
→ * . & ━━ she was born
wild, loving hard, as much as her
heart would allow it. he was made
of fire...
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༉˚*ೃ ¹ᵒ. 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!
˖◛⁺⑅♡ ( tw . descriptions of a meltdown )
𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, lunch in the library with Tsubame's new friends had involved a lot of vigorous working on Maths homework that went entirely over their heads. With five brains combined, though, they seemed to be getting through some of it. It was pretty tough work, considering Tsubame and Kaminari asked what polynomial expressions were about every five minutes. Everything was a jumble of chatter, passing notes, and hands scratching heads. Meanwhile, food was pretty much shared around—Tsubame wasn't even sure if they were allowed to be eating in here—, and the brunette was very much enjoying the onigiri that Kirishima had picked up for her (and his Yaokin puff balls, of course).
"Has anyone worked out the answer for twenty-three yet?" asked Ashido Mina, her voice muffled by the karaage she was chewing on, ink-coloured eyes glaring down at the page like it had personally wronged her.
Kirishima stared at it the same way with a groan. Seriously, the way the entire table was shooting daggers at Ectoplasm's Maths homework problem 'twenty-three' with absolute disdain would make anyone think the equation had murdered their entire family. "No way, I've got no idea," the boy said with a suffering sigh. At some point he'd stolen Tsubame's pencil and tucked it in the fluff of red hair behind his ear. It was pretty much lost amongst the gelled spikes. "We should probably go ask Iida-kun or Midoriya-kun for help."
"That's admitting defeat!" exclaimed Tsubame, slamming her open palm down onto the table. "We will not be defeated!"
Her own notebook had become an endearing mess of different pen colours, pencil weights, and handwriting, as it had been passed around from person to person. Mina's bright pink gel pen stood out on the crisp pages as it had tried to walk Tsubame through several of the questions. Its script wasn't overly neat, but looked angelic amongst the sharp scrawl that was Kirishima's handwriting, the messy, uneven, wobbly lines of Kaminari's working out, and the neater but too-small notes from Sero. All in all, different shades of the rainbow shone back at her. Confused markings as they'd shared the notebook around the desk trying to figure out what the hell some of the questions meant. Kirishima's tirade of functions that had led them down the completely wrong track. Sero's quick polynomial explanation so Tsubame and Kaminari would be able to stop asking. Half of the entire spread was crossed out in fluorescent red and pink pen. Small scribbles of Pikachu and various U.A. teachers stared at her from the margins, courtesy of Kaminari Denki.
