Chapter Text
Katsuki makes a mental timeline of his entire life to retrace his steps back to the very moment that brought him here: in a bright yellow bean bag chair with a shrink across from him scrutinizing his every move.
“Doesn’t it calm you down?” She motions to the ceramic Katsuki is holding and he resists the urge to hurl it at her, pick up the pieces, fuse it back together with nothing but sheer rage, and bash it over her head again.
“So much.” Katsuki says through grit teeth. He closes his eyes, both to get a better visualization of the series of events that put him here, and also because all the colors in the room were nothing short of nauseating.
Katsuki supposes it all started when he was in middle school. He was eons ahead of the rest of his class (he may have looked like a dickhead, but he was actually very diligent), and with nothing left to do, Katsuki booted up the video game his cronies had been raving about weeks earlier.
He was instantly hooked. He was also quite good. Katsuki is a natural at just about everything— his therapist must have caught him smiling to himself slightly at the memory of his first win, because she asks,
“Something funny?”
Katsuki’s eyes snap open. Right, the reason he was holding a poorly made vase with the vigilance one might handle a newborn baby. “Nope.” He answers robotically.
“You look like you’re thinking quite a bit.”
Stupid dumb fuck thing to say, Katsuki thinks to himself. “Yup,” he says out loud.
He resumes mapping out where it all went wrong. Katsuki can blame this part on his parents, thankfully. When they sent him off for college with nothing but a pat on the back and best wishes (something about building character, Katsuki’s blood was boiling too much to remember), he was left to fend for himself. Katsuki is not used to fending for himself. He is used to the luxuries of his parents owning a fashion label.
With nothing to his name but his very expensive PC, he played an excess of video games while trying to figure out what to do when he ran out of the money Masaru discreetly gave to him as he was leaving. The second he realized his hobby could be something very lucrative, he made the social media accounts he had sworn to stay away from and got to work.
Katsuki became famous practically overnight thanks to his memorable attitude. He remained “niche” for a while after hitting a plateau in his fame at 20k subscribers, but he soon went viral over what was deemed The Biggest Crashout in Modern History (in which he described in loud and graphic detail the things he might do to the person that killed him in the game’s final stretch) and the numbers climbed to over a million.
It snowballed from there. He signed with an agent, established a content house, considered dropping out of college but ultimately decided he’s no quitter, and went the whole nine yards. Katsuki’s mother was surprisingly supportive when he visited home after several months. Her exact words were, “Whatever brings in the cash,” and then she ushered him over to a pile of dishes that needed to be done.
Katsuki blinks and he remembers where he is. He glances down at the vase in his hands. “Do I have to keep holding this?”
His therapist sits back, considering him for a moment. She squints at him. “You don’t have to,” she says finally.
Katsuki sets it down onto the table to the side of them, (“It clogs up the feng shui if there’s one in front of us. It blocks human connection,” his therapist had told him matter-of-factly when he first walked in without any provocation) and sighs heavily.
The clock ticking idly with every passing moment wouldn’t be so intolerable if it wasn’t practically a jingle. Stupid ass happy ass fuck ass clock. What gave it the right to be melodious? Of course the numbnuts who swindled him into this chose a therapist that was Live Laugh Love personified.
“We still haven’t discussed what brings you here.”
“We did. My—“
“Yes, your friends—“
“Not my friends—“
“Your companions.” Katsuki wants to correct her and call them glorified roommates, but he refrains. She eyes him carefully to see if he’ll interrupt her again. At his silence, she goes on. “…Insisted you attend therapy. But I still haven’t heard why they’re so eager.”
Katsuki purses his lips, wrinkles his nose, and manages, “Anger issues.” He realizes he sounds like a caveman, so he adds, “They think I have anger issues.”
“Right.” She picks up her tiny journal and Katsuki suddenly feels very uncomfortable.
Katsuki doesn’t know what possesses him, maybe it’s the stupid ceramic after all, but he goes on without any prompting. “I threw a controller at someone’s head.” Denki, the bane of his existence. The reason he’s sat here in the first place. Katsuki envisions strangling him and is momentarily relieved by the image.
Her mouth opens to say something, but she shuts it quickly. Her pen hovers over the paper as if she were wondering where to begin.
After that riveting therapy session, Katsuki was banned from playing video games for at least a week. According to his therapist, it would do him some good to step away from it for a while. Katsuki was unhappy, but he’d sooner die than say that to her face in fear of being forced to endure worse punishment. Such as talking about his feelings, which he’s paying her to listen to.
He can’t keep his fans fiddling with their thumbs, though, (he’d prefer those thumbs clicking the tip button) so he announces a “chill” stream.
Katsuki scans the dozens of comments that come pouring in as soon as the stream starts. He ignores all of them.
“Shitty hair thought I should be charitable to atone for my sins.” A pause. “I don’t think any amount of money can begin to cover it, but I’m willing to put some losers up on stream for a shoutout.”
The chat floods with several suggestions. Katsuki pointedly looks past any and all comments on his appearance. He loads up the streams of other creators on his other monitor, deems them interesting enough, and shares it with his audience.
Two bags of Cheetos and a dozen or so shoutouts later, Katsuki’s getting bored. He decides that he’ll take just one more suggestion.
boringkawtz: There’s this one guy who literally hasn’t stopped streaming for over 24 hours and he has had 3 viewers cumulatively
That catches Katsuki’s eye. He gets the username, which is no easy task in the sea of commenters, but he finally finds it.
The stream loads in.
Katsuki can’t pick up his jaw.
Firstly, the camera quality is terrible, so Katsuki can’t tell if the things in the background are thirty empty cans or one really big radioactive rodent. He doesn’t know which he hopes for. Once he gets over the silvery pile on the floor right beside a mattress that is 2 inches thick with a singular sheet haphazardly fit over it, he gets whiplash again at this asshole’s appearance.
He is wearing a ratty hoodie with a superhero logo printed on the chest. The logo is peeling at the sides. The color has gone from what Katsuki can only assume was once a vivid red to a faded, sad beige. Katsuki can’t even begin to cover the stains. He can’t fathom the color or the shape or— don’t get him started on this guy’s hair. What the fuck is up with that? When was the last time this guy showered? More importantly, what the fuck was he yammering on about?
It’s hard to tell. He was mumbling below his breath and stroking a decimated plushy that Katsuki could imagine as a bunny before it went through hell and back. Its battle scars were numerous. The bunny was not covered in stains, though. At least, none were overly visible on its dull, green fur.
“The graphics are insane..” Can this guy even see them on whatever shitty computer he’s streaming this on? “Some of the best they’ve ever put out, honestly..” He drones on and on like that, and Katsuki stares in complete and utter disbelief. He chances a glance at his chat where people are begging him to say something to him. Or laughing. Or both.
Before Katsuki can start to wonder what he could possibly say to this disaster of a human being, he perks up. “Oh my god!” He’s a lot easier to take in when he isn’t hunched over. His eye bags are so grotesque Katsuki actually puts an incredulous hand to his chest. “Someone joined! Hi, viewer. I can’t read your username.” He squints obnoxiously at his screen. “I’ve been streaming for 26 hours now and everything’s a little blurry.”
“Literally what the fuck.” Katsuki whispers, quickly typing something in the chat he hopes this asshole can see.
GEMGDynamight: Go to sleep????
He slams his keyboard and adds another dozen question marks after the first message.
After what looks like a herculean effort (screwing his eyes shut and rubbing them so cartoonishly Katsuki is surprised there aren’t squeaking sounds accompanying the action), the loser manages to read the chat.
“Oh. No.”
Katsuki is halfway through some of the worst profanities he’s ever written in his life before the loser goes on. “I haven’t reached my goal yet. I need to get at least $100 before I can end the stream.”
He rapidly deletes the curses he was about to unleash upon— Deku? His parents must really hate him to name him something like that— Deku’s bloodline in favor of dangling the prize over his head.
GEMGDynamight: If I give you a $100 tip will you go to sleep
Deku hums. Katsuki’s eye twitches. He has yet to interact with his chat this entire time.
“Yeah, okay.”
Without further ado, the tip goes through. Deku instantly brightens. “Thank you, Dynamight!” Looks like he finally squinted hard enough to see his username. Katsuki’s ego is a little wounded that Deku didn’t recognize him, but he doesn’t have the time to do anything about his fragile self-importance because the stream abruptly cuts.
A few seconds of silence goes by before he turns in his offensively expensive spinny chair to his other monitor. He says nothing to the camera or to his viewers before slowly outstretching his hand to shut off his PC.
Unfortunately for Katsuki, his worst and least formidable enemy, Denki, corners him at the kitchen counter where he’s making a protein shake. Katsuki glances up at the clock and confirms that yes, it is in fact too early for this.
“Don’t fucking come near me.” Denki stops in his tracks, but he does not back away, either.
”How’s therapy treating you?”
“Fucking awesome.” Katsuki senses that Denki might start speaking again, so he slams his fist down onto the blender’s button. The whirring is too loud to hear him, so Denki evidently gives up.
Katsuki assumes he’s safe. The whirring ceases.
”I saw—“
He slams his fist back down onto the button.
There’s a brief, tense pause.
“Your stream—“
Katsuki turns to look at Denki this time, and he prays that looks really will start to kill.
Another pause. Katsuki hopes it’s the last. Unfortunately for him, it isn’t. “I thought it was—“ Denki doesn’t stop this time, shouting louder over the blender, “REALLY FUNNY! THAT DEKU GUY HAS A LOT MORE VIEWERS!”
The stream had occurred, what, only sixteen hours ago? When did he start streaming again? As if reading Katsuki’s mind, Denki’s phone materializes in front of him and he’s forced to watch Deku fiddle with a controller and curse over stick drift. The viewer count, much to Katsuki’s dismay, had indeed climbed up to 300.
He’s playing some story game. Horribly. Katsuki might have felt bad for Deku if Denki didn't distract him with news far worse than being ass at video games. “Have you checked Twitter today?”
“It’s 8am.” Denki waits for the punchline, so Katsuki snarls, “No, I did not check Twitter.”
Denki backs away slowly. He disappears into the hallway without breaking eye contact. Thoroughly disturbed, Katsuki begrudgingly takes his phone out and is assaulted by the number of tweets he’s been tagged in.
[killswitchrevolver]: look at @TheREALDynamights face 😭
[A png of Katsuki, hand to his chest, jaw on the floor, eyes wide and looking appalled.]
﹂[BubbleGutsTruther]: There’s hunters, there’s gatherers, and whatever the fuck this guy is
﹂[sznrazz] he’s a scavenger for sure. i watched his stream for thirty minutes and 90% of it was spent searching for a half-eaten granola bar
[honeysuckl3]: The guy on @TheREALDynamights stream yesterday literally does not stop streaming. Ever.
﹂[deadmittens]: I logged on expecting to get bored in five minutes but I just can’t click away
﹂[pinkytoez]: It’s like a train wreck
﹂[detourhub]: he’s just misunderstood 🥀
[oriameg]: @TheREALDynamight we demand the hobo as a guest tonight.
﹂[h1tm3ncl0wn]: Hobo is a little insensitive.
﹂[oriameg]: CAN I LIVE
﹂[hardasrocks]: I second this
﹂[acidgxrl]: we’ll force him
﹂[tape]: It’s for the fans
Katsuki recalls his therapist’s advice on counting backwards. “When you feel angry, or violent, start from ten and count down. Think of it like defusing a bomb,” she said. Katsuki wanted to tell her he can think of a lot of things to do with a bomb, none of which involved defusing it. He did not.
He does not calm down after ten counts, so he attempts one hundred.
Still nothing. Accepting his fate is all he can do.
“You should totally collab with Deku,” Mina says, slinking up behind Katsuki from where he’s sitting on the couch. Katsuki doesn’t spend a lot of his downtime watching TV anymore, all things considered, so having uninterrupted shitty reality TV to get upset at is crucial to his health.
“Fuck off,” Katsuki answers without missing a beat. He goes to grab the remote to turn the volume up but Denki’s slimy ass is picking it right up and keeping it out of reach. Katsuki tears his eyes off the TV and finds that the Bakusquad is surrounding him like this is a goddamn intervention or something.
He remembers now why he doesn’t leave his room.
Eijiro gingerly takes the furthest seat from Katsuki. Eijiro is Katsuki’s favorite and he feels no qualms in making the others aware of this. Katsuki likes Eijiro simply because he doesn’t test the boundaries of Katsuki’s already thin patience.
“It’d be good content!” Eijiro reasons.
“You could invite him to the squad,” Hanta tries.
Katsuki laughs in his face, threatens the whole lot of them, and climbs the stairs up to his room. Whatever, he’ll download Hulu on his phone for his quality reality television.
When Katsuki begins today’s stream and does his usual greeting (where he insults his regulars for being chronically online), the chat is as follows:
giftedglazer: PLEASE join deku’s stream again
giftedglazer: dekudekudeku
Lesbian69Heals: We told him who you are and he flipped
dynafan: pls watch deku’s stream he’s doing horrible things for donations
Katsuki sighs. “Really? You join my stream so you can advertise someone else’s?” The chat floods with a slew of varying affirmatives, so with another heavy sigh, Katsuki begrudgingly opens the tab on his other monitor.
“Fakes. All of you. Don’t bother showing up anymore,” he says to the people who pay his bills without looking at the camera in favor of watching the screen load.
Katsuki shares his screen with his viewers when it loads and he watches in abject terror as many of his own viewers tip Deku chump change to do awful things.
”Thank you for the tip!”
“It’s five cents.” Katsuki whispers, horrified, to his viewers, unable to tear his eyes away. It’s like watching a collision in slow motion. The tip was attached to a message demanding that Deku do a handstand for as long as he can.
Deku does the handstand, because of course he does. It is humiliating watching Deku sell himself out for as little as a nickel, and Katsuki would have less sympathy if he wasn’t so genuinely grateful for it. His face gradually becomes redder, and then purple, and several good samaritans in the chat beg him to stop while other sadists tell him to keep going.
He handstands until he’s blue in the face and gasping for breath. He collapses backwards onto the floor. Katsuki doesn’t know when he put a hand over his mouth, but he suddenly gains consciousness over himself and looks back at his chat. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks them in disbelief, shooting the camera a dirty look and refusing to spare the chat nary a glance.
herobrineapologist:
Tip- 0.69
drink a shit ton of sprite and eat a banana right after
Deku simply cannot be that stupid. There’s no way he doesn’t know the repercussions of such a thing. A second after Katsuki has the thought, the bipedal asswipe goes sprinting off screen for what Katsuki can only assume are the two ingredients to a concoction Deku will be wiping up off his grimy floors later.
“There’s no way. He’s actually that dumb. Oh my God.”
AsToldByAsh: SAVE HIM
dinosaurs1954: tip him a 20 not to
shelovesdynamight: LMFAO
P0rter: ts cannot be real bru 🥀
Just as Katsuki finishes catching up with the chat, Deku reappears. Dr. Pepper and unripe banana in hand.
”I don’t like Sprite so I don’t buy it. Um, does Dr Pepper work?” Says Deku, and his chat is a menagerie of decrepits giving him advice that reserved a special place in hell just for them, so Katsuki sends in a pity tip.
GEMGDynamight:
Tip- 20.00
Don’t do that.
Deku squints at the screen with what looks like a herculean effort. “Woah, twenty!” He chirps like a baby bird whose mother just threw dinner up into its mouth, and his smile is sickening. “Thank you so much! So… I guess I won't do it. Sorry, ummm… herobrine apologist!”
Katsuki sighs a breath of relief, and then the evil tipper sends in another.
herobrineapologist:
Tip- 20.01
do it
Katsuki’s eye twitches. “This bitch,” says Katsuki to his chat. He is not about to get in a fucking bidding war with some lame freak who enjoys the pain and misery of poor losers like Deku.
GEMGDynamight:
Tip- 30.00
Cheap ass. DON'T DO IT DEKU.
The two of them go back and forth this way until Izuku’s tip count stacks up to 200. The numbers are climbing quickly, and if the stars in Deku’s eyes are anything to go by, he must be pretty pleased with himself. But, like always, Katsuki wins. Deku doesn’t do the dumb shit.
Katsuki keeps Deku’s stream on in the background while he plays Hero Control both for the white noise and for his fans with their dopamine receptors shot. And maybe to make sure Deku doesn’t try killing himself again for a nickel.
There is nothing in this world Katsuki loathes more than his biweekly phone call to the hag he reluctantly calls mother.
”Brat,” Mitsuki says as soon as the call connects, and Katsuki grunts something akin to acknowledgement as he wedges his phone between his shoulder and his ear. “I have a shoot for you next month.”
Right to the chase. Katsuki appreciates that much about his mother. He dices onions with the focus and precision of a brain surgeon and he does not tear up thanks to many years exposure. And also because of a hack Eijiro shared with him on Instagram reels, but that’s beside the point.
”How much does it pay?” Mitsuki predictably answers Nothing, and Katsuki gripes under his breath. He’s been modeling for his mother’s fashion line since he was old enough to make a mean pout at the camera (“You’re a natural!” a photographer shouted at him during his first shoot when all he’d done was walk out onto set). The pay used to be enough to buy him whatever merch he wanted, but Katsuki outgrew his need for comic books against his will. Unfortunately, he was already the poster child of Mitsuki’s fashion line and couldn’t just quit. Besides, it’s not like he minded. It’s just some light cataloguing. No billboards or runways.
Maybe part of the reason he blew up over night was due in part to the fact that he was a part-time model. Or maybe the reason Mitsuki was so successful is all thanks to Katsuki and his addiction to winning. Maybe he should pay attention to what he’s doing, because he’s been dicing this onion for far too long now.
”Don’t forget to shower,” Mitsuki says while Katsuki scrapes the onions off the cutting board and into a sizzling hot pan.
Katsuki scoffs. He rinses off his hands and Katsuki is grateful he doesn’t have to crane his neck anymore to hold up his phone. “How’s dad?”
“Just peachy.” Mitsuki sighs wistfully. “I watched your last stream.”
“Ew,” Katsuki says on instinct. “Don’t do that.” He grabs a wooden spoon and spots Hanta and Denki peering through the kitchen entrance. Greedy, fatass bastards.
“I have to. Your image is my image.” Katsuki does not care about the semantics. He does not want his mother watching his streams where he tells people to fuck themselves sideways. “Anyway, your fans like this Deku character.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. She can apparently hear the air molecules wave around his eyelashes, so she adds, “They pay your bills. Give them what they want.”
Over my dead body, Katsuki thinks. He hates giving people what they want. Especially Denki and Hanta, who still watch him with the intensity of starving hyenas. “Get the fuck outta here!” Katsuki whirls around and points the wooden spoon at them like it’s a goddamn sword. They scurry like the cowards they are.
Katsuki turns back to the stove and turns the heat down. “Literally why would I do that.”
Mitsuki makes an exasperated sound. “In case you missed it, Katsuki, they pay your bills. Get on that grind, or whatever they say. I don’t care.”
Katsuki doesn’t like the idea of listening to his mother, or his fans, or the Bakusquad, but he does thoroughly enjoy the idea of money. Maybe he will get on that grind.
He wraps up the call and finishes dinner. If he made enough for his stupid ass friends, that’s his business. It is just as much his business if he doesn’t snap at them for stalking into the kitchen and squirreling away their share like scared rabbits.
Katsuki is getting on that grind, so to speak. He finds Deku’s Twitter the next day, which Deku had apparently only just made after getting encouraged to do so by Katsuki’s fans, and messages him.
TheREALDynamight - 2:34pm
You have a really shitty cam
Deku doesn’t take longer than four seconds to respond.
DekuBallz - 2:34pm
I am chipping away slowly at my goal
DekuBallz - 2:34pm
of THIS
DekuBallz - 2:34pm
[see attachment of grotesquely expensive gaming setup]
TheREALDynamight - 2:36pm
Invest in a bed frame first maybe
DekuBallz - 2:36pm
💡
DekuBallz - 2:36pm
You gotta spend money to make money
DekuBallz - 2:36pm
Ergo, PC first
Katsuki sighs at his phone.
TheREALDynamight - 2:37pm
Well if you have a prayer for either you should probably join me on stream sometime
TheREALDynamight - 2:37pm
My fans like you unfortunately so they’d probably shill out money
DekuBallz - 2:43pm
Hi sorry my tabletop stove like literally blew up
DekuBallz - 2:43pm
I’m fine tho dw
DekuBallz - 2:44pm
And yes I’d love to stream with you 🙂
TheREALDynamight - 2:45pm
What the fuck
TheREALDynamight - 2:46pm
Ok??
TheREALDynamight - 2:48pm
I’m assuming you’re free whenever
DekuBallz - 2:48pm
Yes!
DekuBallz - 2:49pm
Are you making fun of me right now
TheREALDynamight - 2:51pm
No???
DekuBallz - 2:51pm
Okay! 🙂
Creepy ass emoji. Katsuki scoffs and shuts his phone off because he isn't decrepit and has a life outside the internet.
Anyway, he boots his PC up to see how long he can play Hero Control without one of the idiots walking in to bother him.
It’s been a few days and Katsuki never did grow the balls to actually schedule a time to join up on stream together. After being harangued by his incredibly stubborn audience, Katsuki begrudgingly opens Deku’s stream to see what he’s getting up to today. Apparently, Katsuki conveniently only joins when Deku is getting up to some bullshit.
”Is there a shadow in the corner, be honest.” Deku pleads with his chat, who reply in a myriad of affirmatives. Some tell him to go to sleep. One suggests drinking a Redbull and testing whether or not it really gives you wings by flinging himself off a roof.
“I should tell him there is and it has teeth,” Katsuki comments off-handedly, making no move to do anything of the sort.
”I’m literally about to call the cops.” Deku timidly starts to turn his musty, battered office chair around to come face to face with the shadow, but stops short, swiveling right back around to face chat yet again.
runningrampant: Try distracting yourself
At least there’s one good person looking out for Deku when Katsuki refuses to.
dinosaurs1954: omg have u seen the edits
Deku reads out loud.
Katsuki sits up and he eyes his monitor suspiciously. “Fuck do they mean edits.” He fixes his camera with a glare.
”I have not!” Cries the idiot, excited now. Katsuki resumes scowling at his viewers. The chat spams eggplant emojis. The user guides Deku over to their Twitter account, where they have reposted several edits. All of them are low quality and comprised of exactly three clips, because Deku must be recording on what they filmed the Blair Witch tapes on.
’I’m so flattered,” Deku says, putting a hand to his chest after watching a dozen of them. If Katsuki squints, he can spot a couple red pixels on the apples of his freckled cheeks. Fascinating. He has freckles. Katsuki has only just put that together— he was always under the impression they were mold spores clinging to any moisture possible in the desolate filth of Deku’s room.
Katsuki likes freckles. On anyone else who isn’t Deku, anyway, but the thought is so sudden and jarring he closes the window of Deku’s stream and picks up a bottle of Gatorade from their sponsorship a month ago so he has something to do with his hands.
”That’s enough Deku for one day.” He unscrews the cap and ignores the chat’s protests.