#Multiple people see me as a Steel and I feel wave after wave of pride and gratitude | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jenanigans1207 · 5 years ago

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Touching Hearts [TodoDeku]

I'm still trying to figure out how to write the two of them. But I really enjoyed writing this so I hope it turned out well! I'm about to start an hour and a half drive home so this isn't edited but might be later! I also might rewrite this from Todoroki's POV later, too, as a character study!

Summary: And this time, when Todoroki reaches out to touch Midoriya, to brush his fingers against Midoriya’s cheek with his second hand, Midoriya reaches back. He’s not paralyzed, he’s not burning down into ash, he’s just content. Completely and wholly content.

-- or;

The five times Todoroki touches Midoriya and the one time Midoriya touches Todoroki.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky, beating down on Midoriya’s back as he runs. He used to run around the city, bobbing and weaving through the people out and about on the sidewalk, but after the League of Villains attacked UA, they were prohibited from leaving campus unsupervised. It was fine, in the grand scheme of things. It just meant that Midoriya had to make multiple laps around campus to equal the same distance which, really, was no burden at all.

Except on days like today. Because today, every time Midoriya lapped near the dorms, he was treated with the sight of Todoroki out on the front lawn, a simple t shirt with his dark jeans. Todoroki was training, too, working on more precision control of both his flames and his ice. He’d grown a lot and developed his quirk a lot and it definitely showed. It seemed like he had made progress every time Midoriya passed by and honestly, Midoriya wouldn’t put that past him. He was incredibly talented and highly skilled. If anyone could progress in literal minutes, it was Todoroki.

Midoriya tried his best to convince himself that this was the reason he stared every time he went by. He tried to tell himself it was because he was interested in Todoroki’s quirk, interested in his progression.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t strictly a lie. He was interested in Todoroki’s quirk and he loved watching his progression. It made a bud of pride bloom deep in his chest, petals fanning out and filling all the gaps. But he was also interested in Todoroki.

With the dorms coming into view again, Midoriya forced his eyes forward and steeled his will against what he knew would be waiting for him. He couldn’t keep staring. Todoroki hadn’t noticed— yet— and Midoriya wanted to keep it that way. He’d been doing a relatively good job of keeping his feelings under wraps, but this was like torture. It was like he was being tested and he was pretty certain that up until this point, he’d been failing miserably.

So, he took steady, even breaths. He focused on the feeling of One for All deep in his gut, on the way it threaded through his entire body. That was the real purpose of his running, anyways— to work on maintaining a steady and even percentage of One for All while in action. He stared steadfastly at the sidewalk in front of him as he rounded the corner and came upon the dorms again. Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t look to his right. Don’t look to his right. Don’t look—

A flash of flames drew his attention and Midoriya couldn’t stop himself from turning, looking at Todoroki as he stood in the law, left arm completely aflame. His hair billowed in the slight wind being created by his heat and there was a pleased smile on his face. If Midoriya had been harboring any hope that he’d make it by this lap without staring, it all went out the window right then and there. Because Todoroki was beautiful.

He was standing there in casual clothes, the sun bathing him in saturated rays of light that nearly made him glow like an angel, soft smile on his face. It simply wouldn’t be fair to ask Midoriya not to stare. It wouldn’t be fair to ask anyone not to stare. And so, Midoriya did. He couldn’t take his eyes off Todoroki as he continued to run, committing the sight of him to memory. He wanted to be able to replay this exact moment in his head over and over again. It wasn’t often that Midoriya got to see Todoroki smile so openly like that, especially when he was on his own, And it still wasn’t often that Midoriya got to see him use his flames.

These thoughts were swirling around in Midoriya’s head as he continued to stare. He took a few more steps before Todoroki looked up, his eyes snagging on Midoriya immediately. Their gazes locked and Todoroki’s smile didn’t falter in the slightest. In fact, he held his burning arm up a little higher to show Midoriya, the look of pride melting into every aspect of his face.

Midoriya opened his mouth to say something, to proclaim his own pride at Todoroki. He was just forming the words on the tip of his tongue and then, suddenly, he was tumbling, heading for the ground at an alarming rate.

The ground was hard and unforgiving and Midoriya could feel the wind being knocked right out of him. He slid a few feet before finally stopping, arms splayed out in front of him, cheek flat on the ground and legs in a weird tangle behind him. It took a long moment for him to pull himself back together, blinking against the bright light of the sun and trying to remember how to move his body.

A shadow appeared over him moments later. “Are you alright?”

It didn’t take more than a moment for Midoriya’s mind to come crashing back down as he registered Todoroki crouching down next to him, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “Yeah!” Midoriya rushed to say, trying to figure out his legs and push himself into a sitting position. “I’m totally fine! Just clumsy, that’s all!”

Finally his body cooperated and he was able to shove his legs underneath him, pushing himself into a half crouch so he was even with Todoroki. Todoroki didn’t back away, simply stayed in his spot and watched. And then, when Midoriya was crouching and steady, he reached a hand out to gently cup Midoriya’s chin and every single thought in Midoriya’s head left in one quick rush. He found himself utterly frozen as Todorki moved his face gently, tilting it to the side so he could inspect the cheek Midoriya had fallen onto.

“You’re cut,” He said simply, reaching his other hand out to gently press along Midoriya’s cheek.

Honestly, Midoriya couldn’t feel the cut at all. He couldn’t feel any pain from falling. The only things he could feel were the warmth that was Todoroki’s body so close to his and the absolute electricity where they were touching. Midoriya watched out of the corners of his wide eyes as Todorki leaned even closer, inspecting the cut. His fingers trailed gently down Midoriya’s cheek, along his jawline and then finally settled on his shoulder. Midoriya wasn’t sure when, but at some point he’d definitely forgotten how to breathe.

“It’s really fine!” He finally managed to squeak out when Todoroki let go of his chin. “I’ll just head inside and wash it and I’m sure it’ll be good as new.”

Todoroki seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding his head. He stood up, reaching down and snagging Midoriya’s hand, hauling him to his feet, too. Midoriya felt like his entire arm was on fire, the feeling seeping deep into his bones, settling in the depth of his gut.

“Be more careful next time,” Todoroki said, but there was no real bite to it, just a small undertone of concern.

“Right!” Midoriya agreed immediately, missing the warmth of Todoroki the moment their hands disconnected. “Thank you!”

With a smile, Midoriya headed past Todoroki and into the dorms to wash up, using every ounce of his energy to not jump out of his own skin.

--x--x--x--x

Midoriya’s breathing is labored as he lands on the ground in a crouch. His legs are shaking underneath him and he knows that his body is starting to reach its limit. Starting to reach it, not at it. In the time since he inherited One for All, he’d gotten really good at reading his body and understanding how he was feeling. He was now an expert at what it meant when his legs groaned as he pushed back into standing. He could tell the difference between close, but not quite at his limit, exactly at his limit, and definitely too far past it. He’d spent a lot of time in the latter category and considered himself somewhat of an expert on that.

Currently, though, he was in the ‘close, but not quite’ category.

The rest of the class was slowly filing out of the gym, their lessons done for the day. Of course, that left the remainder of the afternoon up to them to fill how they wanted and Midoriya wanted to fill it doing exactly what he had been doing. He couldn’t push his limit further if he didn’t reach it.

“You coming, Midoriya?” Iida asked from the doorway, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. He walked a little stiffly when he’d used his quirk too much and he was standing just as stiffly now.

“No, you guys go on ahead!” Midoriya called, pushing his hair off his forehead and wiping at his own sweat. “I’m going to stay and keep practicing for a bit longer. I’ll be back by dinner!”

With a wave, Uraraka and Iida departed, too, following the rest of the class. It was just Midoirya in the gym now. At least, that’s what Midoriya had thought.

“I’ll stay, too.” Midoriya nearly jumped as Todoroki approached his side, coming from the far side of the gym. He stopped next to Midoriya, breathing a little heavily himself.

Midoriya turned to look at him, willing his throat not to go dry. He needed to get his words out. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, I’ll be alright.”

Todoroki looked at him for a moment then, his eyes scanning Midoriya. It made Midoriya feel exposed, almost. Scrutinized. He was just about to ask what was on Todoroki’s mind when he said, “Spar with me.”

“What?”

“Spar with me,” Todoroki repeated asi if it were obvious. “It’ll help us both improve our quirks. I’ll put up walls of ice for you to break, shoot fire you have to avoid.”

Midoriya couldn’t deny that it was a good idea— a perfect way for both of them to strengthen their quirks. He also couldn’t deny that he loved the idea of spending time with Todoroki, just the two of them, out of sight of the rest of the class. Not that anything would happen— certainly not. But Midoriya’s heart jumped into his throat just at the thought.

“Okay,” He said after a moment and by god if his heart didn’t stop when Todoroki shot him an answering smile.

“Great,” Todoroki took a step back, turning to survey their surroundings.

Usually at the end of gym, their surroundings were destroyed. As Midoriya understood it, Cementoss stopped by each night to repair everything back to it’s original form, giving them all the chance to destroy it all over again. Rubble littered the ground and some of the pathways through the rock was blocked with larger chunks and boulders. It was already almost an obstacle course in this state.

“I’ll set up some walls of ice in different areas,” Todoroki began to explain, his face focused as he thought. Midoriya stayed quiet, listening to him explain his plan and watching the wheels turn in his head, When they’d first started at UA, Todoroki had been closed off and hard to read. But he’d really opened up as time went on and Midoriya found that he didn’t really struggle at all to decipher Todoroki’s expressions, to guess where his mind was going to go. It felt like an intimate sort of knowledge, though, and Midoriya had to swallow against the feelings clawing their way up his throat. “You have to destroy all of them, but I’m not going to make it easy for you. Fair?”

Todoroki turned to look expectantly at him then and Midoriya was so captured in being this close to him that he almost forgot he was supposed to reply. “R-Right! Sounds awesome!”

“Okay, close your eyes.” Todoroki said and Midoriya felt his heart stop in his chest. He couldn't stutter out a single word, couldn’t ask the question that he was wondering but it must’ve been written all over his face because Todoroki elaborated without being prompted. “You can’t see where I’m putting up the ice! That’s part of the challenge— you have to find them.”

Midoriya did as he was told, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He used the few moments to try and slow his heartbeat, to steady his legs underneath him. If he were going to pull out One for All, he needed to be focused. His body was close enough to his limit that he had to monitor himself carefully. He couldn’t get distracted and become reckless— that was a sure fire way to end up injured. So, as Todoroki worked, Midoriya pulled forth One for All, spreading it out throughout his body at 20%.

His muscles screamed, already tired from what he’d put them through, but he knew he could do more. He waited until Todoroki gave him the okay and then opened his eyes, noting the first wall of ice that was only a few feet away. Todoroki had raised himself up on a platform of ice, too, giving him a better view of the entire gym and making it so he’d be able to attack Midoriya from anywhere.

There was a zing down Midoriya’s spine as he looked up at Todoroki, his fire licking at his fingertips, making his eyes dance in the light. They lock eyes and Midoriya can see the friendly challenge in his gaze. It makes his blood fizzle in his veins and just like a shot, he’s off.

He doesn’t go for the wall of ice right in front of him because that’s too easy of a target. No doubt Todoroki would be able to get him from there if he started off like that. Instead he takes off, dodging fireballs as he makes his way between two of the tallest rocks in the room. It offers him cover from the fireballs but limited view of the gym as a whole. The best way for him to locate the blocks of ice is to get high ground, but he knows he can’t do that. With Todoroki up on his own pillar of ice, Midoriya would just be a sitting duck.

He continues down the aisle between the two rocks until he comes out the other side. He can see two of the ice blocks immediately and he takes off towards one. The fireballs resume almost instantaneously and Midoriya has to use the rocks to help him bound around and dodge. Switching his trajectory midair was something Midoriya had always had a relatively strong grasp on, but it was such an integral part of his fighting style that he was happy to continue practicing it.

A fireball nearly singed off the tips of his hair as he made it to the first block, smashing through it in an instant with his shoot style. He kept going, feet barely hitting the ground before he was jumping again, heading towards the neck block. Midoriya didn’t have to look to know that Todoroki had moved— the fireballs were coming from different angles than before. Midoriya’s feet hit one of the pillars of rock in the middle of the room and he pushed off, suddenly coming face to face with a wall of fire.

Thinking quick, Midoriya kicked midair, the wind from his attack blowing a hole in the flames that he was able to sail straight through, his foot connecting with the second block of ice and shattering it instantly. Still, the wall of fire had done what Todoroki had no doubt been aiming for— it’d thrown him off balance. Midoriya stumbled as his feet hit the ground, running a few uneven steps in an attempt to get his feet back under him properly. It took hardly even a second but it was enough time to switch Todoroki to the offensive.

Suddenly, Midoriya wasn’t even looking for the next block of ice— he was just focused on avoiding attacks. He dodged and weaved, using some of the rubble when he could to throw Todoroki off or force him to pull back, sending his attack in a completely different direction.

They continued like this for some amount of time— Midoriya honestly had no idea how long. Somewhere in the middle, he’d glanced up at Todoroki and saw him grinning as he called forth his flames and the realization had hit Midoriya right then and there— they were having fun. This wasn’t a battle, this wasn’t a real fight. This was two friends training together and they were both enjoying themselves. As much as Midoriya loved the hero course, loved his classes and his classmates, he couldn’t name the last time he’d found their practicing fun.

For the longest time, it had almost been a chore. It was something he had to do, a constant pressure weighing him down and making him question his worth. It was always something he had to think about, constantly in his own head. But this, with Todoroki? He wasn’t even paying that much attention to maintaining an even balance of One for All— though a quick mental check told him that he was actually doing an exceptional job of it. Instead of focusing on any of the normal things Midoriya found himself thinking about, he found it all replaced with a rush of adrenaline through his veins and a seed of happiness planting roots into his heart.

Finally Midoriya found the last block of ice and nearly collapsed on the other side of it once he’d broken through. Todoroki came down from his ice pillar right after, his own feet hitting the ground and nearly giving out on him. Even with the few feet of distance between them, Midoriya could hear his breathing.

“That was—” Todoroki started to say.

Midoriya looked up at him, bright eyes and a wide smile, unable to contain the feelings in his heart. “Fun!” He finished for Todoroki, feeling like he was bursting at the seams with happiness. “That was so much fun.”

Todoroki took a few shaky steps until he was next to Midoriya, dropping down to sit with him on the ground. They both leaned their backs against the chunk of ice behind them, Todoroki drawing his knees up and propping his forearms over them.

“Yeah,” Todoroki agreed after a moment, the smile audible in his voice. “That really was a lot of fun.”

Silence fell around the two of them then, only broken by their ragged breathing, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least. If anything, it was the most comfortable Midoriya had felt in a long time. It was the first time in, maybe, ever that he’d been able to use his quirk and not worry about everyone scrutinizing him, watching and judging his every move. He didn’t feel self conscious, didn’t feel worried. He felt, for once, like he was just Midoriya.

He turned to express some semblance of this to Todoroki, though he wasn’t really sure how he’d word the idea. In the end, it didn’t matter. The moment he turned to Todoroki, only to find out that Todoroki was already looking at him, happiness in his eyes and the corners of his lips still tilted up a little, the words shriveled and died on his tongue.

As if that weren’t enough, Todoroki reached a hand up almost absently, threading it through the hair along the side of Midoriya’s head. If Midoriya didn’t know better, he would think that Todoroki was using his fire quirk because he suddenly felt like he was being burned to the ground, only to rise up from the ashes and live this moment again and again and again. Todoroki’s hand was gentle and swift as it moved through Midoriya’s hair before he pulled it back and held it out open between the two of them.

“You had ice in your hair,” He explained, glancing down to his hand.

Midoriya followed his gaze to find exactly what he’d said— little shards of ice sitting delicately in the palm of his hand. It made sense— Midoriya had crashed through nearly ten walls of ice. He probably had a lot of ice crystals littering his hero costume and tangled in his hair. Still, he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

“Oh,” He said after a moment, “Thanks.”

Todoroki shrugged, his gaze straying back up to Midoriya. “It was my fault they were there,” He said, but there was a look on his face that made Midoriya feel like he wanted to say more. “The least I could do was remove them,”

The silence settled for only a moment again before Todoroki finally stood up, extending a hand down to Midoriay. It reminded him instantly of the other day when Todoroki had hauled him to his feet after his epic face plant. At least today he hadn’t made a total fool of himself. He reached up and grasped the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. His legs took a moment to solidify underneath him and he leaned into Todoroki’s hand in the meantime, noting the way that Todoroki didn’t even try to pull away until he was certain that Midoriya was steady,

Slowly they made their way towards the entrance of the gym, walking close enough that they bumped shoulders occasionally. By the time they exited the building, the sun was setting below the horizon, painting the sky in a beautiful array of yellows and oranges and giving the world a soft, hazy glow.

“We should do that again sometime,” Midoriya said, glancing to his left as they walked. Todoroki had his head tipped back, looking up at the sky above them. His hair fell away from his face and Midoriya was struck once again with the only word he could think of to even come close to accurately describe Todoroki: beautiful.

“Yeah,” Todoroki tipped his head to the side so he could look back at Midoriya and he looked at peace. The sky glowed behind him and Midoiya wanted nothing more than to be close to Todoroki in whatever way he could be. He knew with absolute certainty in that moment— though he’d had other moments of similar clarity— that he would do almost anything for the boy standing next to him. He’d give Todoroki the entire world if he had to because that was the least that he deserved. “I’d really like it if we did.”

They bumped shoulders again and this time it was no accident. Midoriya smiled, leaning back into Todoroki and they finished the rest of their walk to the dorms like that, connected from shoulder to elbow.

--x--x--x--x

The weekend has finally come and everyone is ready for a break. Aizawa has been running them ragged all week— extra assignments, extra time in the gym, just extra everything. Even Midoriya, who was notoriously good at studying, was having a hard time keeping up with it all. Finally, though, Friday had come and Aizawa had granted them a weekend with little assignments to spend their time on.

So, the class had decided that the first thing they were going to do to celebrate their freedom was have a movie night. Midoriya was completely down with the idea. In fact, he was really looking forward to it. His classmates had become like a second family to him— or really even extensions of his first family since all he really had was his mom. He liked spending time with them, liked laughing, joking and teasing each other. It was one of the things that made his experience at UA as amazing as it was. So he was more than happy to pile some pizza on his plate and head into the common area, plopping down on one of the couches.

They had rearranged all of the furniture so two couches and two chairs each faced the tv. From there, they’d all gone to their rooms and dragged down whatever blankets and pillows they could spare, laying them out on the ground in front of the couches for the majority of the class to lay on. Everyone was slowly settling in, Todoroki on Midoriya’s right, Iida on his left. Kirishima, Bakugo and Kaminari took the other couch, leaving Yao-momo and Uraraka to take the chairs. The rest of them were piling in on the pillows and blankets, shifting until they were comfortable.

“We’re not watching The Shining!” Bakugo was yelling from his spot on the couch, swiping for the disk Kirishima was holding in his hands.

Kirishima laughed, dodging his hand easily and leaning forward to pass it over to Jirou. “Come on, Bakugo, it was popular vote!”

Bakugo slumped back into his seat, grumbling something about how the rest of 1A had terrible movie taste and snagging a piece of pizza off of Kirishima’s plate.

“Did you vote for this?” Todoroki asked, setting his own piece of pizza down and reaching for his drink from the table to his right.

“No,” Midoriya answers, turning to smile up at him. Todoroki is warm and solid next to him, a comforting presence. “I didn’t vote at all, I don’t care what we watch.”

There was a small smile on Todoroki’s lips as he raised his glass up, murmuring, “That’s just like you.”

Midoriya was about to ask what he meant when the lights turned off suddenly, Sero shushing everyone. Jirou waited only a moment before hitting the play button and suddenly the movie came to life on the screen before them. Midoriya had seen The Shining before— Bakugo had made him watch it when they were younger in an attempt to scare him. It had worked, mostly, but it didn’t bother Midoriya any longer. He was able to comfortably relax into the couch, eating his pizza and occasionally nudging Todoroki in request of his drink. Todoroki understood every time, diligently handing his cup over and then waiting patiently for him to finish drinking so he could return it to its spot.

Whispers spread around the room and pillows were thrown— mostly by Bakugo telling everyone to shut up— and the evening dissolved into night. They watched a second movie, Jirou putting it into the dvd player before anyone had a chance to protest. Midoriya had no idea what was coming next, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t laughed this much in awhile and it felt good.

“Popcorn, anyone?” Kirishima called as the previews rolled before the second movie. He still had to dodge a pillow thrown by Bakugo.

“Yes, please!” Was the resounding response and Kirishima ducked out of the room, crossing in front of the TV briefly on his way back into the kitchen.

“Well?” Midoriya asked, turning to smile up at Todoroki. “Did you like it?”

“How do you know I’ve never seen it before?” Todoroki countered, but there was a glint in his eye that made Midoriya feel warm all the way to his core.

“We talked about it once,” Midoriya answers easily, hoping it doesn’t seem strange that he paid that close attention to the things Todoroki has told him. In truth, he tucks away everything Todoroki tells him, creating an archive of facts about him. Midoriya enjoys learning more about him and will happily and willingly listen to any story Todoroki ever wants to tell him. “I told you the story about Kacchan and how he tried to scare me with it and you mentioned that you’d never seen it.”

For a moment, Todoroki’s eyes were wide, surprised. And then he ducked his head, turning his face away. It didn’t do anything to hide the blush Midoriya could see blooming across his cheeks now that their eyes were adjusted to the dark. “Yeah,” Todoroki replied after a moment, his voice a little tight. “I did enjoy it.”

“Will you two shut up?” Bakugo leaned forward from his couch, lobbing a pillow across the short distance and pegging Midoriya in the side of the head. Midoriya caught the pillow as it fell, shooting a sheepish look over at Bakugo. If Bakugo had noticed them, surely the others had, too. Midoriay hoped he wasn’t being too obvious.

“Who keeps giving him pillows?” Todoroki mumbled and Midoriya couldn’t stop the laugh that burst forth at the comment. He felt warm all the way down to the tips of his toes. As his laugh died down, he realized— not for the first time lately— how much he simply enjoyed Todoroki’s company and how happy he was whenever they were together.

Midoriya pulled the pillow close to his chest, wrapping his arms around it and settling into the couch a little deeper. And if settling into the couch meant that ne leaned a little bit closer to Todoroki, well, there was no harm in that, right? It took a moment for Bakugo to begrudgingly settle back into his seat, but the weight on Midoriya’s shoulders didn’t lessen much once Bakugo had returned to ignoring him. Midoriya could feel Todoroki’s gaze on him, so he kept his own eyes focused on the TV as the title screen of the new movie finally flashed across. He was worried, briefly, that Todoroki would pull away. He shifted and Midoriya thought that it was happening, readying himself to pull away abruptly if he didn’t need to.

In the end, he didn’t need to. Todoroki was only shifting so he’d be able to lift his left arm up, draping it along the back of the couch. Once he’d gotten it situated along the cushions, he stopped moving and Midoriya tried to return his attention back to the movie. He couldn’t, of course. Not with Todoroki’s arm right there. Not with the fact that he felt like he was under it, almost wrapped up in it, so close.

And then, when Todoroki did shift his arm off the back of the couch and onto Midoriya’s shoulders directly, it took everything in Midoriya not to combust on the spot. He was certain his face was completely red and the rest of the room could probably hear his heart beating over the audio of the movie. He felt like his heart was running a marathon in his chest, but he loved it. He loved the weight of Todoroki’s arm, loved the way it drew him a little bit closer to Todoroki’s side. He loved every single thing about this moment and wouldn’t change a single aspect.

Not even when Kirishima finally came back, spotting the two of them from across the room. He shot Midoriya a grin and a wink as he doled out the popcorn, laughing a little as Midoriya somehow, impossibly, turned an even darker shade of red.

--x--x--x--x

Somehow, and Midoriya honestly couldn’t remember how, he’d been challenged by Iida to a race. Someone somewhere along the line had raised the question of who would be faster and Iida was confident in his ability. Honestly, as it stood, Midoriya assumed Iida would win, too. But when he eventually gained control over 100% of One for All, he thought he’d at least have a chance. Still, he’d accepted the challenge and the whole class had taken to the front lawn of the school during their lunch break.

Bets were being made and people were dividing up into two groups depending on who they thought would win and Midoriya was surprised to see both Todoroki and Bakugo on his side. Kaminari was explaining the course they had selected and Jirou was waiting at the makeshift finish line, one earphone jack into the ground, ready to call the winner if it were close.

“Go easy on me,” Midoriya teased as Kaminari stepped off to the side finally.

“Hah!” Iida whacked him on the shoulder fondly, “Not a chance.”

Midoriya shook his head, equally fond, and took a few steps away to put some space between them. He swung his arms a few times at his sides to loosen up before calling forth One for All and channeling it down into his legs and feet. The familiar lines snaked their way around Midoriya’s body and a whisper went through the rest of the class at the sight. Iida was watching him, eyes intent but Midoriya just shot him a smile.

“Take your marks!” Kaminari yelled and Midoriya could immediately hear the familiar sound of the engines on Iida’s calves warming up. He dropped low, placing his hands on the ground in front of him and Iida followed suit a moment later. “On your mark, get set, GO!”

Like a shot, they were both off, darting across the line, to the sidewalk and curving around towards the finish line. They followed the path in front of them, arms pumping at their sides. For the majority of the time, they were neck in neck, right by each other’s sides. It wasn’t until Jirou and the finish line came into sight that Midoriya managed to pull slightly ahead. He crossed the finish line less than a second before Iida, but it was enough to claim him the victory.

Jirou yelled to the others about his win and his half of the crowd erupted into cheers, clapping each other on the shoulders and collecting on their bets. Midoriya doubled over, propping his hands on his knees and dropping his head low in an attempt to get his breath back.

“Great race,” Iida congratulated, and he sounded out of breath, too.

Midoriya smiled up at him, happy to see that Iida didn’t look the least bit put out by his loss. If anything, he looked more determined than ever. “Yeah,” Midoriya panted in agreement, “It really was.”

Finally, Midoriya stood back up, his breath still a little short, and fell into step next to Iida as they headed back to the rest of their class. “You really are something,” Iida said fondly. “I never get sick of seeing what you can do with your quirk.”

“Thanks,” Midoriya nudged him, “You were amazing, too. Probably just luck that I won.”

Waving off his comment with a slight roll of the eyes, Iida pressed away from Midoriya and headed back to join up with Uraraka. Todoroki came to meet Midoriya where he was, congratulating him on his win.

“You looked really cool,” Todoroki said, eyes studying Midoriya. His eyes seemed to snag at Midoriya’s neck and he reached up, almost without thinking as he continued to talk. “It was really close, but I knew you’d be able to pull it out.”

While he talked, Todoroki grabbed onto Midoriya’s tie, pulling it a little tighter and straightening it, before smoothing it down the Midoriya’s chest. His touch burned through Midoriya’s shirt but Midoriya found that he wasn’t paralyzed by it like he had been in the past. He almost wanted to say he was getting used to it— his heart giddy at the thought— but the way the butterflies were floating through every vein in his body suggested otherwise. He felt like he was trembling to his very core, but it was a nice sensation. Exhilarating.

It was a fair assumption that Midoriya’s entire outfit had gotten a little wonky when he’d raced Iida. As if reading his thoughts and answering the unspoken question, Todoroki finished settling the tie and tugged on Midoriya’s shirt a little, straightening out the collar, fingers brushing the skin of his neck as he did so. Even when he moves on, shifts his hands down to smoothing out the wrinkles in Midoirya’s shirt, he can feel where Todoroki’s fingers brushed. Every single spot he touched is completely alive, almost like his fingers are still there. Midoriya knows they aren’t, but he’s certain that the feeling of Todoroki’s touch is going to linger well into the rest of the day.

Midoriya swallows around a dry throat, hoping, desperately, that his voice comes out steadier than his heartbeat. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” Is the only response Todoroki gives. As if he doesn’t realize that he has successfully distracted Midoriya for the rest of the day. As if he doesn’t know that Midoriya is going to go back in the classroom, sit in his seat and stare blankly at his notebook, reliving this moment. Like he doesn’t realize that Midoriya is still going to be relishing the gentle touch of his concerned fingers well into the evening. “We’re about to be late for class.”

--x--x--x--x

“How did you know I was out here?”

Midoriya closes the door gently behind him and crosses the roof, standing over Todoroki who is seated on a blanket at the edge, knees pulled up to his chest, arms crossed over top. “I heard you walk by my room.”

The whole truth is that Midoriya has heard him walk by his room every night for months now. He’d followed him, once, just to see where he was going. He’d contemplated joining him a number of times but always chickened out.

“I see,” Todoroki says, and he turns his gaze back towards the front of building. He’s in an oversized shirt that hangs lose on his frame and makes him look small, somehow. Like someone who needs to be protected. Midoriya knows that he doesn’t need that, not at all, he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, Midoriya would like to protect him anyways.

“I can go,” Midoriya hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the door he’d just come out of. “If you want.”

Instead of answering, Todoroki scoots to his left, making room for Midoriya to join him on the blanket. Taking his cue, Midoriya discards his shoes and steps carefully on, sinking down and crossing his legs, hands wrapping around his ankles to make him feel a little steadier, The blanket isn’t big and their legs and arms are both brushing, but Midoriya doesn’t mind. In fact, it’s the comfort he’s gotten with being in contact with Todoroki that spurred him to finally follow him up and onto the rooftop tonight.

They don’t talk, not at first. Instead they sit silently, staring up at the stars. There aren’t too many of them visible because UA has plenty of lights all over campus as part of their security measures and those drown out a lot of the sky. But there are a few stubborn ones, twinkling away despite that, winking down at them from above. The summer air is warm, kissing their cheeks and settling comfortably on their shoulders.

They don’t talk and Midoriya is fine like that. He thinks he could live in this peaceful moment for the rest of his life. He could sit here, pressed against Todoroki’s side and enjoying the beautiful view laid out before them for all of eternity and that would be good enough for him.

Still, he knows that Todoroki must come up here for a reason. “Something on your mind?”

At first, Midoriya thinks Todoroki isn’t going to respond. He has the right not to. There’s no reason he should feel compelled to let Midoriya into the depths of his heart, to share his personal feelings with him like that. But Todoroki does respond after a moment and it occurs to Midoriya that he was just trying to figure out how to say it. “The world,”

“The world?” Midoriya echoes, looking over at him surprised. “That’s a pretty big thing.”

“All my life,” Todoroki answers and there’s a certain heaviness to his voice. Or maybe it’s a wariness, a general wearing down. “I grew up thinking the world was one way. Hard, cold, distant, cruel, expectant. And then,” Todoroki turns, too, meeting Midoriya’s eyes, “I met you. And you showed me that the world isn’t any of those things. And I guess I’m just still trying to piece it all together.”

For nearly a year now, Midoriya had been crushing on Todoroki. So he was familiar with the butterflies, the dry throat, the trembling fingertips. But this wasn’t that. The emotion choking him up, tightening his throat and making it hard to breathe wasn’t just a simple crush. It was an overwhelming fondness for Todoroki. It was pride at the way he’d grown, at the person he was becoming. It was gratitude that Todoroki had let him get this close, had trusted him like this. Midoriya took a shaky breath in, trying to maintain any semblance of composure but he knew it wasn’t going to work.

“Todo—”

“Call me, Shoto, please.” Todoroki cut in and Midoriya was nearly certain that he was going to cry on the spot.

“Shoto,” Midoriya obliged, loving the way it tasted on his tongue. As soon as he’d said it, he wanted to say it again. “You have changed my world in so many ways, too. You’re strong, loyal, kind. I hope to be like you someday.”

There’s an open vulnerability in Todoroki’s eyes and Midoriya thinks that this is it, this is the moment he’s going to lose the battle with himself and kiss Todoroki. The faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, the way the lights from campus make his eyes glow— all of it is too much for Midoirya. Todoroki leans in slightly and Midoriya has the fleeting thought that Todoroki might beat him too it— which is okay, honestly, as long as they’re kissing— and then he drops his head down, settling it onto Midoriya’s shoulder.

It takes Midoriya a moment to recover from his shock and another moment to blink himself back to reality but when he does, he realizes that this is nice, too. Todoroki has shifted his whole body so that he’s leaning into Midoriya, threading one arm through Midoriya’s and nestling his head so that the longer strands of his hair brush just under Midoriya’s jaw line. It’s comfortable and intimate and somehow just as vulnerable as their conversation had been.

Midoriya settles his head on top of Todoroki’s, leaning back into him.

“You’re far better than I could ever be,” Todoroki whispers into the space in front of them, so quiet that the wind could whisk the words away if it wanted to, Midoriya still heard them.

“You are absolutely perfect, Shoto,” Midiroya turns his head and murmurs the words into Todoroki’s hair.

They stay that way for a long moment, Midoriya’s face buried in Todoroki’s hair and Todoroki tracing light patterns against Midoriya’s thigh with his hand. They can faintly hear the sounds of the city in front of them, but they’re faint— like a low hum, lulling them both towards sleep.

“Izuku,” Todoroki says after a moment, pausing to make sure he hasn’t crossed a line. Midoriya hums in response, pressing a little closer. “Thank you.”

There isn’t really anything Midoriya can say back to that, isn’t any way for him to properly articulate what he’s feeling. Instead he simply drops a kiss onto the top of Todoroki’s head, feeling the way his arm tightens in response and nestles back in, content to stay out all night if that’s what Todoroki wants. No punishment Aizawa gave could ever make Midoriya give up this moment.

--x--x--x--x

From the night of their stargazing on, Midoriya’s crush becomes nearly unbearable. He can’t even look at Todoroki without feeling the press of his body, the softness of his hair, the quiet intimacy of his voice. He can’t do anything without wanting to relive that moment, over and over again,

It gets so bad that Midoriya does the only thing he can possibly think of doing— he goes to Kirishima for advice. Kirishima who has been making playfully suggestive faces at him ever since movie night. Kirishima who constantly catches Midoriya’s eye and then subtly nods towards Todoroki. Because Kirishima already knows and he would be more than happy to help, that much Midoriya is sure of.

So Midoriya lays it all out there. He tells him about all of the moments the two fo them have had, all of the brushes of Todoroki’s fingertips that he can still feel burned into his skin. He doesn’t tell Kirishima what Todoroki said on the rooftop, but he tells him everything else. By the time he’s done, Kirishima is grinning from ear to ear.

“Dude, he definitely likes you back!” Kirishima reaches out to grab Midoriya by the shoulders in earnest, his excitement palpable.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Midoriya replies. True, it sometimes does seem like Todoroki feels the same, but Midoriya doesn’t want to assume. And he certainly doesn’t want to do something that would mess up their friendship. It’s one of his most treasured things and he absolutely refuses to do anything that could alter or destroy what they have.

“Midoriya, come on,” Kirishima pleads, giving Midoriya a gentle shake. “He fell asleep on your shoulder! Like, I love you man and you’re a great friend but I’m not about to sleep on you. And I don’t think anyone else in our class is either.”

“It was the middle of the night and—”

“Stop making excuses and just accept what’s right in front of you,” Kirishima urges, his smile dulling down to something more moderate but still full of joy. “I get it, it’s scary to take that step forward. But trust me, he’s going to be down for it,”

Midoriya considers this for a long moment. He’s not convinced, but he’s at least partially convinced and for now that’s enough. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Just tell him,” Kirishima lets go of his shoulders, gesturing with his hands as he talks. “Just lay it all out there on the line. Tell him how you feel. And then, probably, you know, kiss and live happily ever after.”

“Kirishima!” Midoriya cries, his face instantly heating up. He ducks his head, hoping to hide his red cheeks as Kirishima laughs and claps him on the shoulder again with a few more reassuring words. When he finally lifts his gaze again, Kirisihima is looking at him with so much faith and encouragement in his expression that Midoriya knows he can do this, Even if he doesn’t know it, he can feel it in his bones. “Okay, I’m going to do it. Do you know where he is?”

“Where who is?” Todoroki approaches the two of them, eyebrows drawing together when he notices Kirishima’s expression and the way Kirishima looks ready to burst out of his own skin in excitement.

“Bye!” Kirishima cries, all but shoving Midoriya at Todoroki and slinking around the corner.

“Who were you looking for?” Todoroki asks, quizzical gaze still on the corner that Kirishima had just ducked around, clearly trying to piece things together in his mind.

In the past few months, being with and talking to Todoroki had gotten easier. But suddenly, with the knowledge that he was about to confess his feelings weighing on him, Midoriya felt like he’d forgotten every word he’d ever learned in his life. He stared wide-eyed at Todoroki for a long moment, opening his mouth to try and push words out and then getting absolutely nowhere. The seconds seemed to tick on for ages, each one somehow dragging on longer than the last and Midoriya found himself trapped. He needed to do something, that much was certain,

“Izuku?” Todoroki finally turned his attention back to Midoriya, clearly still puzzled by the entire situation. Midoriya’s stone-stiff posture and impossible silence surely aren’t helping.

A moment passes, and then another. Midoriya feels the same panic rise over him that he feels when he’s down in a fight. Move, he commands himself, move! For once, his body listens. Before he can really even think about it, he reaches out and slips a hand around the back of Todoroki’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss before either of them have a chance to do or say anything to stop it.

And then— and then he’s kissing Todoroki. Right there in the common area of the dorms. He’s kissing Todoroki and literally anyone could come around the corner or walk down the stais and see. But none of that matters when suddenly Todoroki is kissing him back, leaning in and gripping Midoriya’s shoulder with his hand. Absolutely nothing on Earth matters other than the feeling of Todoroki. A villain could attack campus right at this moment and Midoriya would die happy because he was kissing Todoroki.

Finally, a whoop that sounds suspiciously like Kirishima draws them out of the moment and they break apart all at once. The fear and panic are back instantly and Midoriya finds that suddenly his words want to work. “I’m so sorry, Shoto. I— “ Todoroki looks back at him while he talks, his lips parted in a wondrous smile and suddenly Midoriya knows that it’s going to be okay. He takes a deep breath, tries again. “I was looking for you,” He finally answers the question Todoroki had asked what feels like ages ago. “Because I wanted to tell you that I—” well, what’s the point in hesitating now? It’s not like he didn’t get the point, “I really like you. Like, a lot. And I just— I wanted you to know.”

“Is that what you were talking to Kirishima about?” Todoroki asks after a moment, his hand still firm on Midoriya’s shoulder, keeping them close.

Midoriya realizes that he hasn’t let go of the back of Todoroki’s neck, either. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to do because I was afraid of ruining everything.”

“Ruining everything?” Todoroki echoes, clearly surprised. “Midoriya, I couldn’t be happier about this!”

“I told you!” That same suspicious voice yells from around the corner. But, when Midoriya turns to glare, there’s nobody there. Still a quiet snickering tells him that Kirishima is listening to the entire conversation. It doesn’t bother him.

“Really?” He asks instead, turning to look back at Todoroki. “You don’t have to just say that.”

“I’m not in the habit of saying things just for the sake of it,” Todoroki murmurs, leaning down towards Midoriya again. Midoriya can’t stop himself from glancing down at his lips. “I’m thrilled because I really like you, too, Izuku. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“You did,” Midoriya breathes, feeling his lips brush Todoroki’s as he speaks. “I was just—”

But the rest of this thought and all of his worries are cut off by Todoroki’s lips on his again. And this time, when Todoroki reaches out to touch Midoriya, to brush his fingers against Midoriya’s cheek with his second hand, Midoriya reaches back. He’s not paralyzed, he’s not burning down into ash, he’s just content. Completely and wholly content.

#tododeku #tododeku fanfic #tododeku fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #mha #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #5 + 1 #soft #fluff #pining

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allisondraste · 6 years ago

Text

Justice

Word Count: 2003

Pairing: Alistair X F!Amell

Other Characters: Loghain and Anora Mac Tir, Eamon Guerrin

Summary: The Landsmeet does not go as Alistair hopes, and a can of worms is opened for all the bannorn to see. Thank goodness there’s no real darkspawn threat right?

AO3 link for peeps who prefer that format.

“You have some of Maric in you after all,” Loghain admitted as he bowed his head, conceding defeat to the furious Alistair who stood before him, sword held high above his head prepared to execute him on the spot.

Alistair closed his eyes and swung down forcefully, startled when he felt his sword strike something hard and metal, a clank and a swish as steel met steel. Had the traitor decided to continue fighting after all? He reared back preparing to strike again, only to open his eyes and see Lucia, of all people, standing between him and his intended target, her own runed sword in her hand, sparks of lightning jumping from it in every direction. For the first time ever, he wished she was just an ordinary, staff-wielding mage.

She glared at him beneath furrowed brows, her eyes saying everything her mouth did not. It was almost as if she expected him to show mercy. After all the suffering they had withstood because of this man, she still did not think he deserved to die. Alistair disagreed.

“Move,” he growled, commanded even, his own voice burning in his throat. This man was responsible for Duncan’s death, for the rest of the Wardens’ deaths! Alistair has every right to kill him. He was right.

“Alistair.” His name was like a question on her lips, as if she did not quite recognize him. Her sad eyes glittered fiercely at him, in what could only be described as disappointment.

“You can’t ask me to spare him.” His voice was calmer now, but cooler than he knew he could be. “You can’t.” His knuckles were white against the hilt of his sword and he was trembling. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his chest tightened like a vice.

“And you can’t ask me to stand by and watch as you bloody your hands for no reason.” Lucia wedged her way further between Alistair and the defeated Teyrn kneeling on the floor, his daughter now at his side. “This is not who you are. This is not how we do things.”

“He would have had us killed were the tables turned,” he said, his words desperate, “He’s already tried to have us killed multiple times, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I just thought we were better than that.” Lucia’s voice and eyes softened. “I thought you were better than that.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not,” he spat. Had he not been so angry, he would have immediately regretted his tone. “Duncan and the others deserve justice. King Cailan deserves justice.”

“Revenge isn’t justice, Alistair, and you know it.” She reached out to touch him and he jerked away, his heart sinking at the hurt look on her face. “Killing Loghain here, in front of the Landsmeet, in front of his daughter, won't bring them back.

“If you really want justice for Duncan and Cailan, then let’s end these petty politics and kill the darkspawn who are actually responsible. Unless, of course, you’d rather continue this tantrum.”

“Tantrum? Tantrum? Is that what you think this is?” There were miles between them now, despite standing close enough that Alistair could feel her breath. “You know what, Luce? Let the Teyrn help you with the Archdemon.” He threw his sword to the ground at their feet and stormed out of the throne room, the eyes of every noble in the bannorn searing into his back.

As Alistair left, the room fell silent, only hushed murmurs from the galleries remained as arls and arlessas watched the theatrics in bewilderment. Heat rushed to Lucia’s face as eyes turned to stare at her. Damn him. Damn herself too, for that matter.

Her words had been unfair. Alistair blamed Loghain because he needed to. He needed to believe that Duncan’s death had not simply been the casualty of a battle that nobody was prepared for. There were so many unexpected obstacles that night at Ostagar, it was difficult to say if Loghain’s men could have made any difference at all. Of course, the Teyrn had taken some reprehensible actions against the Wardens and elves in the Alienage, but the Hero of Riverdane, the late King Maric’s most trusted advisor, could not be completely terrible.

Her stomach lurched as she looked to Anora for a response. Eamon spoke, instead, “Look what you have done, child.” His voice was condescending, and he turned up his nose at her, threading fingers through his coarse beard.

“With all due respect, Arl Eamon,” Anora said with dignity as she stood and straightened out her skirts, “Shut up.” Her icy blue eyes pierced him, so much like her father’s. Loghain beamed slightly, a soft expression Lucia had yet to see from him. “You have done quite enough.”

“Your Majesty.” Lucia bowed her head reverently, fear creeping in the back of her mind. Would Anora take action against the Wardens, or worse, against Alistair for being so insistent that her father die? “I’m sorry for -.”

She stopped as Anora glided more closely to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, her eyes glossed with tears. It was a look of gratitude and understanding that words could not have conveyed. She squeezed Lucia’s shoulder slightly before bringing her hand to her side. Her eyes steeled.

“Guards,” she ordered as she turned her head to one of the captains that stood behind her. Lucia cringed waiting to hear the words she dreaded, waiting for Anora to order Alistair found and brought back to the castle. He was a threat to her rule after all.

“Take my father to the dungeons,” Anora continued, a pained expression crossing her face as she said the words. “I am grateful his life was spared, but his crimes against Ferelden cannot go unpunished.”

Lucia brought her hands to her mouth in shock, watching Loghain kiss his daughter on the cheek as the guards took him away. There was still pride in his eyes. In that moment, she knew her decision to spare the Teyrn had been the right one. Whatever rift she created between Alistair and herself, she had done the right thing.

“You cannot possibly think this is a good decision warden,” Eamon protested, his voice cracking, “Leaving the usurper alive and his daughter on the throne.”

“And it would have been a better decision to let you blackmail and manipulate Alistair so that he would rule when it is the furthest thing from what he wants.” Lucia postured, crossing her arms.

“It doesn’t matter what the boy wants.” Eamon was furious now. “It is what’s best for him, what’s best for Ferelden.

“Do tell me what is best for Alistair,” Lucia retorted dryly, her words like daggers. “I’m so eager to hear about concern from the man who made him sleep in the kennels growing up.” There was a gasp from the galleries. “You’ve never cared about Alistair in any capacity except for his connection to the throne.”

The hall fell silent and Anora looked between Lucia and the arl in dismay. Eamon looked away and scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, and Lucia looked down at the dark, stone floor.

“Is this true?” Anora’s words were cold.

“You have to understand, th-,” Eamon attempted to plea in his own defense.

“I believe I understand quite clearly,” She cut him off with a wave of the hand, “You are fortunate that King Maric never learned of your abuse. I want you out. Teagan will take over your estate.”

“Out? Of Ferelden? Anora, you can’t be serious.” The man was reeling, his voice pitched and shaky. “It happened years ago. He’s a man now.”

“You betrayed the trust of the King! Treason, a crime punishable by death. I should think my offer of exile is much more lenient.”

Eamon growled and stormed out, scowling at Lucia as he did so. The crowds in the galleries cheered as Anora made her rallying speech to the Landsmeet. Lucia stayed and mingled for a bit after all of the excitement, but eventually ducked out through one of the doors at the side of the room. As much as she knew she should be there, she was emotionally exhausted and felt her resolve wearing away. She could have broken at any moment.

She hurried out of the palace, toward the Guerrin estate. She slowed as she navigated the hallways as reached her guest quarters, the room she and Alistair had shared just the night before. She entered swiftly, shutting the door behind her and breathing deeply as she pressed her back against the cool, rough wood. She startled when she opened her eyes. She had thought she would be alone.

Alistair leaned against the bedpost, staring into the torch that burned dimly in the sconce on the wall. He turned slightly when he heard her enter, watching her breathe and jump when she noticed his presence. He smiled, half heartedly before he looked back at the torch. It was easier than looking in Lucia’s eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” she muttered with a shaky voice. Her typically stoic face was filled with emotion. She was raw, and it was obvious.

“Neither was I,” he admitted with a sigh. He shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor before looking up at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Normally it would be impossible to resist the urge to take her into his arms to soothe her, but not today. Today, she was his enemy.

“Then why?” She stepped forward, fists clenched at her side. “Did you come to say goodbye? Because that’s really not necessary.”

“About a half hour ago, my answer to that question would have been yes,” he explained with a bitter laugh, “I rushed down here to pack up my things. I was going to leave and you could deal with the Blight yourself.” He shifted uncomfortably and took a deep breath.

“Then why are you still here?” Her question was filled with a hurt so tangible it hung in the room like fog. “What changed your mind?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but... it was Morrigan.” Another bitter laugh. “She told me I was a ‘foolish child’ and that if I let you go over something as ‘idiotic’ as ‘not getting my way,’ I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

“She’s said things like that to you before.” Lucia crossed her arms the way she always did when she was bracing herself for bad news. “Why listen to her now?”

“Because this time, she was right.” He stood up from his casual lean and paced around a bit before approaching Lucia and taking her hands in his. “Luce, we’re going to battle an Archdemon tomorrow. I could die, you could die. We both could. Who knows? In any case, I don’t want to go into that battle with any doubt in the air that I love you.”

“Alistair-.”

“I am furious with you, more furious than I have ever been with you. And, honestly I don’t know how long it will take for me to stop being so angry.” He held back his tears as he spoke, his chest burning from the strain. “But I can’t handle the thought of being without you. Not now. Not ever.”

Lucia released and anguished sob, and he relented, pulling her into him and kissing her hair. She trembled under his touch, her hands clinging tightly to his shirt.

“I thought I lost you,” she cried into his chest, her words muffled.

“As it turns out,” he laughed, tightening the embrace “I don’t think you could.”

They stood holding each other in the dim light, the torch slowly dying. They would discuss the details of the Landsmeet later, and the would work through it. Alistair had no doubt. But for now, it was enough to be angry together. It was enough to share rough, ragged kisses, so unlike their usual tenderness. Still being together, despite it all, was enough.

#Alistair Therin #dragon age #dragon age origins #warden x alistair #Anora Mac Tir #loghain mac tir #eamon guerrin #angst #eamon gettin his ass handed to him #anora being a bamf

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shadows-echoes · 6 years ago

Text

The Logic of Emotion - Pt. 7

(This beautiful gif doesn’t belong to me!! Gif source here!!)

Pairing: Connor RK800 x fem!reader

Summary: Connor’s just trying to complete his mission but he keeps running into the emotional roadblocks of those around him. You’ve been assigned to the deviancy investigation along with Hank and Connor, but you’re starting to ask questions no one seems interested in listening to. The investigation becomes more difficult for everyone involved as it progresses, and for vastly different reasons.

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: *finger guns*

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 8 // Masterlist

The room is three degrees colder than it should be, the air staler, and the lights dimmer.

The muted overhead lights created long, blurred rectangles on the semi-reflective, spotted beige tiles that covered the floor. The rooms had been sterilized since its last user but traces of them still remained: their handprint lingering on the windowsill, a strand of hair in the corner of the room. Even the nurses and doctors, as rigorously clean as they tried to be, had left their mark. Scuff marks and thin, dark streaks from faux non-marking sneakers dotted the ground along with barely-there footprints.

With his elbows braced upon his knees, Connor cataloged them all as he absently tossed a coin between his fingers. He picked out every possible piece of evidence scattered along the floor and followed them, found what they were from and who they belonged to. He hadn’t found anything of interest over the last three hours and fourteen minutes since he and Hank had been allowed entrance into the hospital room, but his mind needed to work.

He needed to process something or he would go insane sitting here. Doing nothing. Waiting.

You had become his mission in an instant, but now there was nothing he could do for you.

Connor had wanted to track down Martha himself; it would be another mission. It would be objectivity. It was what you’d wanted him to do in the first place. But Hank had been… insistent that he stay.

And so he had.

At first, Hank offered some distraction from the misery of the slowly passing time, but he eventually fell into an uneasy sleep in the chair next to Connor’s. Connor contemplated entering stasis mode himself, just to pass the time, but he was worried about what he would find there. He wasn’t sure if he’d come back.

Connor had a vast arsenal of questions pestering his mind and a list of objectives he needed to meet, but the two people he most desired answers from were both asleep and his targets had been as unreachable as they always had been.

Every so often, his gaze would inevitably be drawn back to where you lay and he would quickly resign himself to staring at the floor once again. It was safer that way.

Twenty-seven minutes and ten seconds after he last looked up, the rhythmic beeping emanating from the machine monitoring your heart rate broke its steady pattern.

It was accelerating.

Connor was out of his seat and standing beside your bed before your eyes finished adjusting to the light and your unfamiliar surroundings.

Dark crescents sat beneath your eyes and your skin held a sallow tone to it, but you were out of surgery, beginning the healing process, and unrefutably alive.

Your shifting ceases as your disoriented gaze catches on him. “Connor?”

It was barely a croak, nearly inaudible, but there was a probability of zero that he would miss it. He was too highly attuned to you.

A wave of- of something, of multiple somethings, washed over him. He didn’t particularly care to name whatever it was, he had better things to ponder at the moment, but he felt like he’d been restored. Like his key biocomponents had been switched out and upgraded versions had been installed. A shroud of darkened, heavy thoughts still clung to him, but at least now he felt he could properly function again.

The corners of his lips curl upwards fractionally. “Hello, Y/N,” he greets, the words acquiring an unexpected softness he hadn’t consented to.

Connor watches as you attempt to blink away the daze from your eyes, a squinting grimace crossing your features.

“What happened?” you rasp, eyes sluggishly darting from him, to Hank’s sleeping form in the corner of the room, to your own stomach in confusion. “I… I don’t remember coming here.”

He doesn’t know the correct procedure for this, he’d never done it before, there had never been a need for him to visit someone in the hospital. But a question? A question he could handle.

“We were investigating a deviant named Martha. She was hiding out in a different apartment as we searched through hers and you found her,” Connor informs, an unknown weight forming over his chest at the memory. “She stabbed you twice. You passed out from the blood loss shortly after we reached your car, that’s why you don’t remember arriving. It was difficult getting you here alive but even unconscious you were quite stubborn. Upon arrival, you were rushed into a successful surgery six hours ago. The doctors said the prognosis for your injuries was-”

The back of your hand tiredly brushes against his side and what’s left of the sentence dies on his lips.

You’re shaking your head. “I meant- wait… Were you… rambling?”

“No,” he refutes, the barest hint of defensiveness entering his tone and posture as he straightens his shoulders. “I was just answering the question.”

The fog must be lifting from your mind for the look you give him is more observingly shrewd than should be possible given the quantity of drugs being fed into you through the IV in the crook of your elbow.

Connor waits, unsure, as he watches the result of the synapses firing in your brain. Confusion was etched into the hard, tired lines of your face as you stared at him. He could see the question forming, dawning in your mind, and he had a high suspicion he knew exactly what it was you were trying to work out.

“But you… Didn’t I…”

The full question is left unsaid but he can see it in your eyes, he can hear it in his head. He’d assumed it would take you longer- hoped it would take you longer- to reach, but it seemed even in an incapacitated state you could find a way straight to key turning points. To questioning the foundation of things and the reasoning behind them.

Didn’t I order you?

“It was the only way,” he quietly relents. Closely observing the further furrowing of your brows. He wondered whether his explanation was too vague or if you simply didn’t want to accept it. He grew increasingly uncomfortable with the uncertainty as the seconds ticked on.

It wouldn’t take you long to figure out, he may as well help, but the prompt felt thick leaving his mouth. “You ordered me to leave you behind, Y/N.”

The confusion gradually drained away from your face. As your expression went slack and you paled, Connor realized his mistake. Perhaps uncertainty was preferable.

“Are you… Are you saying-”

You couldn’t finish the breathy question; there was too much dread pooling in your stomach.

Dread and guilt and hope and pride and delight and something that warmed your heart a dangerous amount.

But worry came out of the hailstorm victorious and clear.

Because if Connor was- if he- then Cyberlife would-

Connor says nothing, his gaze holding yours as resignation filled his eyes.

An unspoken confirmation.

As you stare up at him, agape and speechless, some idle, non-spinning part of your brain registers the tightening of his jaw.

Whatever painkillers you were being given were certainly doing their job, there was only a slight soreness radiating around your stomach. Though, your body did feel like it hadn’t moved in days. Every part of your arm felt heavy as you reached out to grab Connor’s hand in a speechless thanks, in acceptance, in a small act of comfort.

But you stopped short, hand hovering centimeters from reaching his, as another realization hit you like a semi-truck.

Your hand falls.

One of the machines beside the bed unhelpfully announces your once again spiking heart rate. It made you more nervous than you already were. “Connor, there’s- there’s something you should know.”

The smallness of your voice isn’t lost on him. The resignation is quick to fall to calculation; a speculating look overtakes his features and you swallow back the lump in your throat.

You were covered in blankets and a stiff blue hospital gown, almost completely covered, but you feel wholly bare before Connor.

Would he hate you after this? For the lies you had been feeding him? For the cases you’d made him fail? For the suspects lost? Or would he begrudgingly accept everything you’d done now that he too was a-

You look to Hank’s form for assistance, unsure whether you're praying for him to awaken of remain asleep, but he remains hunched over the side of his chair. Sleeping.

You force yourself to meet Connor’s now concerned, wary eyes.

If he was- if he was a deviant now, then... Then there were things he needed to know.

You steeled your resolve. “I… I’ve been working with them. With Markus.”

Connor watches from across the hall as a friend of yours climbs onto the foot of your bed, finding a comfortable position there while animatedly speaking about something. The tone was slightly chastising from what he could hear, but he noticed a small smile creeping onto your face regardless.

It had been difficult enough for Hank and Connor to skirt the regulations regarding visiting hours. So, when your wild-eyed friend had practically busted into the room after somehow making it past the now hissing receptionist, they both respectfully excused themselves.

“Have you told her yet?” Hank asks, glancing at you through the room’s open door before turning back to Connor.

“She knows I’m a deviant,” Connor states. The firm words are quiet enough not to be overheard by the few staff members pacing the long hall.

Hank scoffs. “Not that. That you like her.”

Connor turns, his brows furrowing as he looks up at the man beside him in confusion. Hank’s shoulders were pushed against the wall he was leaning into, a cup of cheap, vending machine coffee in hand, exhaustion lining his features.

“Hank-”

“Look, I don’t know jack shit about the technicalities,” Hank interrupts, cutting Connor off before his dismissal is even voiced. “But I do know that androids don’t deviate over nothing -even if it was a stupid fuckin’ order.”

While the last sentence was grumbled with frustration and lingering disbelief, the rest of the statement was spoken with a knowing tone.

Connor pauses.

Before, back at the apartment building, Connor had been startled out of his processing when he first heard the muffled gunshots being fired on the floor above him. He’d been worried for your safety as he charged out of the room and through the building, and he’d been terrified when he saw you slumped against a wall, bloodied and far too still.

Panic had overridden his systems.

Warning signals flared and roared to life before his eyes, but he’d shoved them all aside. He knew he shouldn’t have, he knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway. Without hesitation.

He didn’t care about his system instabilities. He cared about you.

And the one thing he knew with an alarming amount of clarity was that he couldn’t abide by your command, he needed to ensure your survival.

When the wall of coding appeared, listing his instructions, his mission, Connor had taken one look at you -at your bloodied, fragile human body and your eyes that were so desperately clinging to determination and resolve like a lifeline- and tore it down. He had kicked and punched and pulled until the wall between him and you, between his mission and saving your life, fractured into pieces.

Was that what it meant to like someone? To disregard what should be done for what emotion dictates one should do? What a… human notion.

Though he had had his suspicions about your commitment to solving the investigation long before today, he had severely underestimated the scale of it. Of you. Despite what he had erroneously assumed to be poor detective work and interfering, trivial emotions, however, he had still enjoyed your company. To the extent that he could, at least.

You were one of the few who had always treated him as an equal, even- especially through his screw-ups. Only now he knew the lengths you went to for his kind, and the rather stupid risks you took considering who you were partnered with.

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious what you were doing. Your skittish nature, your drained eyes, the oddities in your reports, the number of deviants that had gotten away when he was so close to catching them. It was so obvious, in fact, that it made him wonder...

No matter what he felt about everything else and how much it ate away at him, you seemed to be ground zero. He couldn’t deny the emotions you were able to conjure within him. The relief, the happiness, the affection, the additional guilt, the nervousness, the want to protect… It all swirled around him in a cloud.

But is that what it boiled down to? That he liked you?

Emotions were new, overwhelming, and far more disorganizedly irrational than he’d assumed, but the term didn’t feel particularly accurate.

Not that it mattered.

“I… I might be a deviant, but I am still an android,” Connor reaffirms, a fixed reminder to both himself and Hank. “Even if I completely understood what I feel now, nothing could ever come of it.”

Hank hums, nestling into the wall. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Again, Connor pauses. The words catch him, a small, precise lure. Something in him begs to rise to the bait, to inquire, to learn more-

But it doesn’t matter.

He had fulfilled Hank’s request by staying as long as he had. Now, Connor has places to be. Or rather, one place in particular.

You’d divulged Jericho’s location; it was time he went there.

A/N 2.0: To everyone who was worried: Ily but it had to happen.

But guys. Guys. This is like… the second to last part??? There’ll one more part after this and I’m not entirely sure how to write endings so we’ll see how it goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I hope the POV switches came out alright. I rewrote this scene so many times to try and make it work.

Let me know what you thought!! Hmu with that feedback! I’m not even joking when I say it gives me life. It’s what I most look forward to <3

Tags: @aya-fay @mamamemequeen @layinglonely @robin-rokossovsky @simplysaying @superanonymousreader @aririna1412 @marinettelafayette @purpstraw @tinycyberhacker @lunarlexycon @littlemsrantsalot @bibbo-boggerns @lost-and-found-jc @fuckthatfeeling @avispate @audiblehush @grievance-s @i-resent-this-hellsite @kylobien @fandomfreakgod @colddeadeyes @ctvrty @fineactually @wadeyouwitch @dragonempress123 @queerfandomtrash @mldivers

#connor rk800 x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor dbh x reader #connor rk800 x fem!reader #connor x reader #connor rk800 #connor dbh #dbh connor #detroit: become human #the logic of emotion

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 6 years ago

Text

Their Hero Academia, Chapters 5-8

Presented raw and unedited. Edited versions will eventually be added to Ao3, where chapters 0-4 can be found here

Their Hero Academia – Chapter Five: Toshi Midoriya and the First Heroics Class

The next morning found Toshi rising early, as he usually did. It was a habit he’d picked up from his dad years ago. They’d go for a jog or another workout and then make it back home in time for breakfast. He always looked forward to it and intended to keep up his exercise program while he was at U.A. It was good for the mind and the body.

It was nearly seven by the time he returned to the dorms and most of the Class was already assembled in the common room, eating various combinations of breakfasts. They were still in the process of developing a chore wheel for the dorms, which would end up including some light cooking. Sitting at one of the tables with Asuka and Izumi, Shinso gave him a sleepy wave, then beckoned Haimawari over to join them. Good. That meant his efforts yesterday were being rewarded. Not that he’d have expected anything less of his friends.

He returned the wave and headed to the small kitchen, where Takiyo Aoyama was preparing complicated looking omelet with the help of Akaya Koda. He gave both of them a polite nod, while he searched the cupboard for his power bars. “Smells good, guys,” he told them.

“Of course it does,” Aoyama said. “I’m the one making it.”

The blonde boy’s illumination was barely noticeable, but definitely growing as he spent more time in the light of both the lamps and the sunlight filtering in through the windows. Toshi understood that he kept his room totally blacked out while he slept, so that some of the light he absorbed throughout the day could bleed off. By the end of the day, he’d be nearly too dazzling to look at, unless he burned off some of the power.

He also understood that, like his adopted father, Aoyama’s Quirk was not entirely under his control, requiring multiple support items to use the light he absorbed for much more than glowing brightly. Toshi couldn’t imagine what that was like. Sure, he’d accidentally launched himself into the air when he was surprised, but to have that much trouble with a part of yourself…

Koda gave him a gentle nudge. Despite her size (both the tallest and widest in the class), she was possessed of one of the gentlest demeanors of anyone Toshi had ever met. “Arrogance ill becomes anyone, Aoyama,” she told him. Her voice was especially incongruous with her build and size, soft, like the wind whispering through the grass. “Especially after I convinced these peppers to grow, that they might season our meals. Do not dishonor their sacrifice with your pride.”

The large girl had an… interesting perspective on things sometimes. But to each their own.

The point seemed to be made with Aoyama, though, even if he didn’t seem to completely buy the idea of dishonoring the peppers’ sacrifice. “As you say, Mademoiselle Koda,” he said, reluctantly. “I...appreciate your help in these culinary matters.”

Not exactly a thank you, not exactly an admission of fault. Of all the children of Class 1-A, Toshi knew Aoyama the least well. He hated to think badly of anyone, but he couldn’t exactly say he liked what he had seen. Maybe he’d grow out of it? Especially once they all really started working together? Toshi could only hope.

Koda held Aoyama’s gaze for a moment, then decided that was probably the best she was going to get. She helped him begin to plate the omelets. “Would you care for any, Midoriya?” she asked. There was clearly only enough for two, but he appreciated the gesture all the same, especially since Aoyama was making a rather unpleasant face behind her.

He shook his head, already biting off a piece of one of his power bars. “I’m good,” he said. “You two enjoy.”

Toshi walked out of the kitchen, taking in the rest of the room. The Iida twins were absent, probably at spending their pre-class hours in one of the workshops in the Support building. Sero was busy filming Sato with his phone, no doubt streaming his friend’s eating of a cactus for all the internet to see. Ojiro was pointing out something in a magazine to Shoji, who appeared to be doing his best to feign polite interest in whatever celebrity gossip the invisible girl was sharing and to Mineta, who was mostly drooling over the models on the cover. Chihiro absently munched on a breakfast sandwich, lost in whatever music she had streaming through her phone.

That only left Katsumi unaccounted for and she was likely still up in her room, getting in her morning workout. Where Toshi’s leaned more towards running, Katsumi’s involved more weight lifting and punching. Probably nothing to be worried about.

His phone buzzed, letting him know he had a text.

Dad: Hey, champ! Ready for your first real Heroics Class today?

I sure hope so! I can’t imagine what Grandpa Might has planned!

Dad: Just so long as he doesn’t have you fight Katsumi. I don’t need to hear from Bakugo about that!

He wouldn’t really do that, would he?

Dad: Probably not on purpose. But you know Grandpa Might!

Do I ever! He keeps following me around! They had to kick him out of the classroom four times yesterday!

Dad: I’ll talk to him. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll get Grandma.

***

Their table of four looked like it was going to become a permanent table of five. When they’d gone to the cafeteria, he’d made sure Haimawari knew he was welcome to join them. It was good having someone else around who clearly had the same kind of appreciation for Heroes that he and Shota did. Granted, it made more sense for someone like Haimawari to be into them, since he wasn’t from a heroic family. Katsumi had frequently pointed out that being such fanboys when their families were already Heroes didn’t make that much sense. But neither of them cared.

“Anything interesting in Pro Hero news, Shinso?” Izumi asked. Like Toshi, she had seen that their friend was practically vibrating with something to share. Izumi was polite enough to offer him an avenue to let it out.

“Only the coolest!” Shota bubbled. “Red Riot and Real Steel fought Diamondhead!” He pulled out his phone, showing them video of the two Heroes fighting against a Villain who could turn his skin to diamond in a very similar way to how their Quirks worked. As they watched, they saw the two Heroes land a punch against Diamonhead that caused a shockwave big enough to shatter all the nearby glass and knock loose objects over.

“The news report said you could feel the impact for miles away!” Shota added

“Oh, man,” Haimawari said, “that was one hell of a punch!”

“Yeah,” Shota said. “They’re both so manly!”

“Shinso,” Asuka began, “that was a lot of property damage… Maybe we shouldn’t be cheering that.”

“But it looked so awesome!”

Toshi shook his head. “Red Riot and Real Steel are good at what they do. They wouldn’t have done that if they had another choice. Judging by his Quirk, I don’t think anything else would have knocked Diamondhead out.”

“Think Kirishima-Bakugo’s seen it yet?” Shota asked. “Bet she’d love to see her dad in action! He’s all, like, “Pow! Bam! Take that, evil doer, for my manly heart is pure!’”

Toshi had to laugh at that, catching Izumi politely chuckling and even Asuka trying to hide a laugh behind her hand. “Okay, yeah, Uncle Eijiro does kind of talk like that.”

Haimawari frowned for a moment. “Keep forgetting you guys are all pretty much family. I can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up around that many heroes.”

“They’re just people,” he told him. “If you’re only seeing them when they’re being Heroes, you’re not getting the full picture. That’s part of who they are, sure. Some more than others. But that’s not all of who they are either.”

There were all kinds of things the public didn’t get to see. Like the way Dad could cry at the drop of a hat or the way he still geeked out when he talked about working with other Pro Heroes (not that Toshi didn’t join him in the geeking out, mind you) or the way Mom obsessively checked their bank account or had their shopping cart total figured out to the penny before they got to the check out, even though financial insecurity was a thing she’d long put behind her.

“Trust me,” Asuka said, “my father’s “Darkness” speeches don’t work nearly as well when he’s telling you to pick up your room.”

Toshi knew from experience that Asuka’s mother could be far scarier with as single look of disappointment than her father could in full “warrior of the night” mode.

“What do your parents do, Haimawari?” Izumi asked.

Toshi could swear there’s the tiniest moment of hesitation before Haimawari answers, but he has to be imagining it.

“Nothing as cool as yours,” he says. “Dad owns a convenience store in Naruhata. Mom’s a writer for a Pop!-Weekly.”

“The music magazine?” Toshi asked. He’d seen Chihiro reading it from time to time. When Haimawari nodded, he added, “That’s pretty cool!”

That got the skinny boy laughing a little. “Guess it all depends on your perspective. They’re just my parents to me.”

“Seriously though,” Toshi said. “It is pretty cool. You should tell Chihiro. She’d big into music.”

“Sorry,” Haimawari replied, “still learning everybody’s names. Chihiro is…?”

“The blonde girl with the ear-Quirk,” Izumi told him. “Chihiro Kaminari.”

“Mineta’s friend,” Asuka elaborated.

“Ooooh,” Haimawari said. “Her. She’s got, ah, interesting taste in friends.”

“She’s not as bad as Mineta,” Toshi assured him. “Try and talk to her. Couldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

***

For their Heroics Class, Mr. Aizawa and his grandfather had taken them to Training Ground Epsilon. Unlike most of the Training Grounds, which were designed to replicate specific kinds of environments, Epsilon was essentially a long open field, with an observation bunker at one end. It was a warm day, the sun shining, and the sky clear, though their gym uniforms were comfortable enough in it (apparently, the costume department was significantly behind this year). Toshi was a little bit surprised that Mr. Aizawa could stand that much direct sunlight.

“Normally,” Grandpa Might said, “we’d start Heroics off with the Battle Trials, pitting Hero against Villain in a death-defying race for control of a bomb which might very well destroy the entire world!”

He waited a moment for a reaction from the class. When no one other than Shinso (who cheered, of course) responded, he looked a little deflated, but he went on. “Unfortunately, due to a… ah, Quirk misfire with Class 1-B, the Training Grounds for that is currently unavailable and undergoing repairs. So we have prepared an alternative exercise.”

Okay, Toshi was definitely going to have to pay more attention the other Hero Classes. If someone in 1-B had a Quirk powerful enough to do that kind of damage…!

Grandpa Might went on, “We’ll be splitting you into teams of four. Your job will be to defend the Observation Bunker, where the rest of us will be. Your job will be to defend the bunker from waves of robots that will be attacking!”

“However,” Mr. Aizawa said, “if even one robot makes it to the Bunker, then your team loses, no questions asked. Because it means everyone inside is dead.”

Ojiro shot her hand up. “Do we get to pick teams?”

“No.”

“As Heroes,” Grandpa Might explained, “you’ll often find yourself working with other Heroes you’ve never met before. You’ll need to improvise working with a wide variety of Quirks on the fly. This will help with that and help you get acquainted with your classmates’ Quirks!”

“And,” Aizawa added, “I don’t trust any of you to make good decisions about teams. The teams will be as follows. Team One: Midoriya, Aoyama, Sero, and Tensei Iida. Team Two: Kirishima-Bakugo, Shinso, Ojiro, and Mineta. Team Three: Todoroki, Haimawari, Sato, and Sora Iida. And Team Four: Tokoami, Koda, Shoji, and Kaminari.”

Okay, he could work with that… Pretty good Quirk spread on his team. Pretty good spread on all four teams, actually. At least Aizawa and Grandpa Might were giving them a fighting chance.

“The hell? You losers better not make me lose!”

…He honestly hadn’t expected anything else from Katsumi.

***

In general, Toshi thought he was pretty good with his Quirk. He could lower his personal gravity until he could bounce off the walls. And with split second timing, he could increase it until he turned into a cannon ball and then bounce back away. He’d sparred with his dad and trained more than a lot of people his age probably had. Being all second generation heroes, they definitely had some advantages going in, though they hadn’t all worked together much. This would still be a real test.

He slowly adjusted his gravity, bringing himself back down to the ground.

“What did you see, Toshi?” Tensei asked. While he could actually fly rather than float like Toshi, he was more like a rocket, needing to keep moving, which was not always as ideal for observation.

“Three one-pointers and two two-pointers,” he said. “About 50 meters out, coming quick.”

Aoyama was glowing in the afternoon son, difficult to even look at directly. Reflective wristbands likewise glittered in the sun. “Should go out after them? Show them what we’re made of?”

“No,” Toshi said. “Our mission is to protect the Bunker. We need to stay close to it, but not let them get too close. You and Sero need to hang back. You’ve both got long range Quirks.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Midoriya!” Sero said, tossing off a little salute.

“Are you sure you and Iida don’t just want to grab all the glory for yourselves?” Aoyama sneered. “Keeping me on the bench while you get to be the heroes?”

“I don’t like your tone, Aoyama,” Tensei said. “Toshi is no glory hog!”

“And perhaps I don’t like yours!”

Toshi’s bad feelings about Aoyama returned. But now was not the place to get into it. “Uh, maybe we should just…”

“They’re here!” Sero shouted, interrupting any further argument.

And indeed they were, three one-pointers rolling along on their treads, and a pair of floating two-pointers. According to the further explanation Grandpa Might and Mr. Aizawa had provided, the waves would only get stronger. They ten minutes. Either they held the line that long, or one of the ‘bots got through and they lost.

He didn’t want to lose. Especially not with his grandfather watching. He didn’t want it to be this haphazard, he’d wanted some kind of plan. Dad had drilled into him how important having a plan was. Now…

“Let’s get ‘em, guys!”

Toshi concentrated, bringing his gravity to near zero and took a jump, bouncing up like he had springs under his shoes. It carried him up and over and then at the right moment he increased it three fold. He immediately fell like a stone, crashing into one of the one-pointers, smashing in its head. Quickly, he switched back to low gravity again, bouncing off and landing on the sand.

Already, the blood was rushing in his head. He couldn’t do that kind of rapid switching for too long, not without getting a killer headache. Not to mention the effects of all that gravity on him. He was tougher when he amped his gravity up, but it put its strains on him.

Around him, the others were tearing into the rest. Tensei had flown through one of the other one pointers like a battering ram, propelled by his jet engines. “As suspected! They still have not fixed the structural flaw! Quite disappointing, but good for our Team!”

Sero was quickly wrapping up the remaining one-pointer in his Acid Tape, this time making it as acidic as possible. It was a good combination of his parents’ Quirks, really, the ability to create tape like his dad, but with all the different and variable properties of his mom’s acid. “Die, evil robot, die! Hey, with a dry, cool wit like that, I could be an action hero!”

And Aoyama… was staring down both two-pointers. His glow intensified until it was blinding. “Let’s see how these ruffians fair against my Dazzling Beam Blaster!” Both of his arms snapped up and his wrist bands flared, each unleashing a powerful golden beam of light that punched holes right through the two-pointers. His overall glow was diminished after that, still lending him a bit of a sparkle and getting brighter by the moment, but it was clear he had spent a lot of energy.

He gave himself a small clap. “That’s how you do it, boys.”

Okay, so Aoyama was powerful. But that didn’t mean Toshi had to like working with him.

And then, just like that, a buzzer split the air, signaling failure.

“What? How? We got all of them!” Sero said.

“Probably something you lot did,” Aoyama snapped.

“An unseen variable, perhaps?” Tensei mused. “Some x factor I did not anticipate?”

“Uh, guys?” Toshi said, pointing behind them. A one-pointer was already at the bunker, and others were moving in from the sides.

Mr. Aizawa’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Perhaps next time you’ll know to watch for all directions. I expect all the rest of you to have learned something from their failure.”

“DO NOT WORRY, YOUNG GRANDSON! FAILURE IS BUT THE FIRST STEP TOWARDS VICTORY! I MEAN, AH, DO NOT WORRY, YOUNG HEROES! YES, I WAS TALKING TO ALL OF YOU!”

…Maybe he’d be better off just floating away. He could get a job as a parade balloon. Anything sounded better than being here right now.

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 6: Isamu Haimawari and the First Big Mistake

He wasn’t hurting. In fact, he felt like he was past the point of pain. But he could hear people yelling, screaming. Strange, he could swear he smelled something burning…

“Go!” he heard Aizawa yelling. “Get them to Doc Clock!”

And it had been going so well…

***

Well, if the son of the Number One Hero could mess up on their very first real Heroics exercise, maybe Isamu didn’t have to feel so bad about how he was probably going to fail too. All four of the first team had had impressive powers, but they hadn’t been watching their backs. Plus there was the whole thing where they’d been too busy arguing to pay attention to anything. Still, he’d done his best to congratulate Midoriya on at least getting to smash one of them. The green haired boy looked pretty down from his failure. He would be too.

After the first group had returned, the second group had set out. The absolutely terrifying Kirishima-Bakugo took the lead, with the other three following her.

She looked around. “Loud Kid,” she told Shinso, “you’re on lookout. You two, you’re with me. And for fuck’s sake, look around you!”

There wasn’t any arguing this time like there had been with Midoriya’s group. Kirishima-Bakugo was simply too frightening for the rest. Ojiro looked the most like she was going to say something (Maybe. You could only read so much body language on a floating gym uniform), but chose otherwise.

The robots were quickly upon them. Kirishima-Bakugo raced out to meet the first one, letting out a scream of “DIE!” as she did so. When she got close enough, she gave it an open-palmed slap on the two-pointer’s side and seconds later, a massive explosion rocked the robot, destroying it.

“That’s how you do it!” she screamed.

“Whoa!” Isamu yelled. He remembered how she’d made the spoons explode like firecrackers in the cafeteria yesterday, but he hadn’t know she could do anything like that.

“Yeah,” Midoriya agreed. “her Quirk is pretty powerful. She can release this liquid from her hands that does… something to whatever it touches and makes it explode. The more she lets out, the bigger the boom.”

“…Remind me never to make her angry.”

“Trust me, Haimawari, when I say ‘good luck with that.’”

Kirishima-Bakugo had already destroyed another two-pointer, while the rest of her team were making short work of the rest. Ojiro stopped in front of the one of the one-pointers and then simply… disappeared.

“Wait,” Isamu asked. “She can get more invisible?”

“Uh-huh,” Midoriya explained. “What she’s really doing is bending light. Her skin’s always doing it, but she can extend it to anything she’s touching, like her clothes.”

The one-pointer suddenly jerked and bucked, like something was trying to climb it, and then its head suddenly disappeared! It stopped completely, staying still on the sand. With the one-pointer distracted, Mineta gave it a powerful kick with one of her hooves, knocking it down. The robot’s head reappeared as Ojiro returned to view, jumping off of it.

“Oh, that’s good,” Midoriya said. “She made its head invisible so its camera couldn’t detect anything!”

Mineta was doing a decent job of her own as well, even without team work. She lowered her head, aiming her horns at one of the remaining one-pointers. From the tip of teach horn, a stream of purple spheres fired forth, starting the size of a pea, but rapidly growing to the size of a baseball. They stuck wherever they hit the robot, jamming its joints and obscuring its vision until it could neither move nor see, at which point she rammed it, knocking out its control panel.

“Hey!” she called out, “if I do well enough, do I get a kiss?”

“I thought I told you to stop hitting on me, horse-legs!”

“Sheesh! You’ve really got no sense of humor! Besides, maybe I was talking to Ojiro!”

“In your dreams, Mineta!”

The remaining one-pointer was demolished by a shrieking Kirishima-Bakugo, blowing its treads off with a pair of powerful explosions. “More! Bring ‘em on!” she yelled. “Keep fighting, all of you!”

And the second wave was on them. More two-pointers this time, but still a few one-pointers. Like last time, some of these started coming in from the sides.

“From the left!” Shinso called out. As one drew close, he took in a deep breath and then let out a long, low tone. Isamu could see the air between him and the robot ripple and the ripple slammed into the robot, knocking it over as though it had been punched. Shinso kept up the tone until the rippling wave punched a hole in the robot’s chest.

That was… that had definitely been a thing. Isamu remembered how Shinso’d made the ground flow like a wave yesterday.

“What,” he asked, “what exactly is his Quirk?”

“Beats me,” Midoriya said. “They call it Vocal Harmonics. He does a sustained pitch and stuff happens. Different things for different pitches. Nobody’s really figured out any logic behind it. Trust me, they’ve tried.”

The others leapt into action too. Kirishima-Bakugo exploding them, with Mineta and Ojiro slowing them down for her and Shinso.

It was in the fourth wave that things started to go south for them. The one-pointers were gone, two-pointers making up the majority of the wave, along with a single giant three-pointer.

It started when the two-pointer had Ojiro down, one of its massive arms pinning her to the ground. Her clothes flickered in and out of visibility as she tried to squirm away, but to no avail. “Argh! No fair!”

“I’m coming, Ojiro!” Shinso called out. He took in a breath again and started coughing. All the explosions Kirishima-Bakugo had been setting off had stirred up a massive amount of smoke, smoke he sucked into his lungs. Another two-pointer pinned him, face down on the ground.

Kirishima-Bakugo lashed out, heading for the three-pointer, causing explosions along every two-pointer between her and it. Mineta fired off more sticky balls from her horns, but panic was throwing her air off, not to mention that the smoke was also interfering with her ability to aim.

Kirishima-Bakugo reached the three-pointer, sliding under its reach and tapping its arm. But she was also clearly running out of whatever liquid she generated to make things explode, because the explosion she created was clearly much less powerful than she had expected. She stared at her hands like they had betrayed her.

And then the failure buzzer sounded, as the three-pointer had reached the bunker.

“Well, you lasted longer than the first team,” Aizawa said, his voice ringing from the loudspeakers. “We’ll review everything tomorrow. For now, get back to the Bunker. We’ll let the smoke clear out before Team Three goes.”

“Good job, Team!” All Might said. “Though you might want to learn to take it easy, Young Kirishima-Bakugo! There’s a time for going all out and a time for caution!”

The robots released Shinso and Ojiro, the former of whom offered Kirishima-Bakugo a hand up, but she batted it away, getting up on her own and stomping towards the Bunker, her face set in a deep scowl.

Isamu finally remembered to close his jaw. If his team lasted any time at all… it was going to get intense out there. He was pretty sure his Quirk wasn’t going to be any good for smashing robots, but maybe he could be a distraction for some of the others? Or get a couple of the robots to smash each other?

Midoriya gave him an encouraging grin. “Hey, you’re up next! You’re gonna do great, I know it.”

He returned the grin, maybe a little sheepishly. “Maybe. Gotta try, anyway.”

Okay, deep breaths. He could do this.

***

When the smoke had cleared, Team Three was finally able to step outside the Bunker. “So,” Isamu said, “how do we want to do this?”

They’d already seen the first two teams. They definitely wouldn’t devolve into in-fighting like the first group, but hopefully they wouldn’t mess up the battlefield like the second either.

“I’ll guard the rear,” Sato volunteered. “My Quirk’s no good unless they get real close.” Isamu remembered catching sight of him a few times during the Entrance Exam, tearing into a robot with his teeth. It wasn’t something he was going to forget anytime soon.

“Good,” Todoroki said. “Sora, Haimawari, you both have mobility-based Quirks. Do you think you can control the left and right edges?”

“I’ll give it my best,” he assured her. Hopefully that would be enough.

“Just leave the driving to me!” Iida said.

Todoroki nodded. “Then I will do my best to hold the middle. Remember to support each other when you can, and try not to make too much of a mess.” Her lips twitched slightly when she said the last part. A smile, maybe? Isamu didn’t know her well enough to know.

Really, Todoroki was quite the puzzle. There was the strange power she seemed to have over the ginormously scary Kirishima-Bakugo. And Torodoki herself was so reserved, quiet, but firm. It was hard to know what to think of her.

And then the first wave of robots was upon them, the same mix as the other two times. Two two-pointers, three one-pointers. Iida went right, so he dropped to the ground and went left, his Quirk pushing him along like a bullet shot from a gun. Maybe a little too fast, as he was coming up on the one-pointer faster than he expected.

He didn’t have nearly the power to go with his speed to ram his way through it like he’d seen Tensei Iida do in the first round… but maybe he had some skills they didn’t! Instead of trying to dodge, he kept going and when he got close to the one-pointer jumped on the robot and kept going, sliding over it as easily as he had over the ground. The nearest other one-pointer took a swing at him and he added an extra burst of speed, carrying him over the robot’s shoulder and down his back. The second one-pointer’s blow hammered home on the first, smashing a hole in it and bring it down, giving him just enough time to hit the dirt and slide away.

He skidded to a stop. “I… I did it!” He’d managed it a couple times during the Entrance Exam, but he really hadn’t been sure he could do it again.

“Good job, Haimawari!” Todoroki cheered. “But keep alert!’

A two-pointer was nearly upon her, but she pointed a pale hand at it and frost began to appear along its surface, until its skin was frozen solid and it started to crack under its own weight. Todoroki grimaced with the exertion of it, her pale features flushing. She pointed at one of the one-pointers, this time unleashing a blast of flames that quickly took it down. As she stopped the flames, her condition improved.

Weird, actually. Every time he’d seen her make ice, she made fire right after. He didn’t know what that meant.

But he needed his head back in the game. He saw Iida taking down the last one pointer, her jet engines giving her more than enough power to knock its head clean off.

“One more two-pointer,” he said. “Heading towards Sato!” The thick-lipped boy took up a defensive stance, but he wouldn’t last long against that.

Isamu threw himself forward and saw Iida keeping pace with him. “There’s a design flaw,” she told him. “Lots of them, actually. But the leg joints are especially weak. If we both hit it at the same time in a different leg, we should be able to take it down.”

“Got it!” he said, squinting against the dust their speed was kicking up. He was definitely going to need goggles and a mask if he was going to keep doing this kind of thing.

He concentrated, pouring on the speed, kicking himself into a higher gear. Iida kept pace, both of them racing to towards the robot. Sato, to his credit, held his ground, bearing his teeth at the machine. He and Iida reached the robot at the same time, both of them striking a leg joint. The joints buckled and the robot toppled over. Sato pounced on it, opening his jaw wider than Isamu would have thought possible, taking a huge bite out of its head.

“Blegh,” Sato said. “It’s stale!”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to ask any follow up question about that.

And there wasn’t any time. The next wave was already starting.

***

By the fourth wave, they were running out of steam. Iida was down, having run out of fuel from overusing her Jetpack. Sato was curled up on a ball, his belly bloated, moaning.

Todoroki looked dead on her feet, and even Isamu was exhausted. This was the longest and hardest he’d ever pushed his Quirk continuously. At least during the Entrance Exam, he’d had spurts where he could rest, catch his breath for a moment.

“You… okay?” he asked Todoroki, as the next wave came towards them.

“No,” she said. “I do not think I can keep fighting much longer.” A hard, determined look set itself on her face. “But I will go down fighting.”

She brought up both hands and Isamu could feel the temperature dropping. A massive block of ice incased every last robot in the fourth wave, two and three-pointers both.

“Whoa,” he breathed.

Quickly, however, he noticed that Todoroki had gone even paler. Her knees buckled and she began to fall.

He found himself moving before he could even think. Even as he heard someone yelling, telling him no…

Too late, he remembered about the flames. As he caught Todoroki before she could fall, her body erupted in flames and his world turned to pain.

***

He sprung up with a gasp, only to find he was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, he seemed to be in… a hospital bed? He had to be in the medical building. How was that possible? He’d taken a blast of fire that could melt steel to the face. Isamu was pretty sure that he should be dead, or at the very least, severely burned. But his hands were unblemished and as he felt his face, he realized that was too.

“What?”

“You’re awake,” a voice said, as he heard the curtain around the bed part. “Good. You gave us all quite a fright when you were brought in.”

At the foot of the bed, he saw a woman in thirties, wearing a white doctor’s coat over a black and purple costume with a clock insignia on her chest. She had blue-white hair down to her shoulders, but what was most noticeable was the horn growing from her head.

“How…?” he began.

“Are you not dead? Or at least not more severely injured? That would be my doing.”

“I thought I heard someone say something about a… Doc Clock? Is that you?”

The woman smiled. “I never did like that name very much. A friend of mine called me that when I was a student here and it stuck. I am Doctor Eri Izumi.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, Doc. So do you have a healing Quirk or… Because I didn’t think there were any like that that were that strong.”

She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I can rewind living matter back in time. It’s best if I have an idea of exactly how long. But on the plus side, you’re now about twenty minutes younger than you used to be.”

Well, that was a new one.

“Are you feeling up to visitors? A few of your friends are waiting on you.”

He nodded and she turned to a very elderly woman that he now noticed was napping in an electronic wheelchair at a nearby desk. “Recovery Girl!”

The old woman’s eyes snapped open. “Just resting my eyes!”

“Of course you were,” Doctor Izumi assured her. “Do you think you could go get Haimawari’s friends?”

The old woman smiled. “Of course, dearie. Just leave it to me!” She threw the wheelchair into motion, nearly clipping a wall on her way.

Realization hit him. “Todoroki! Is she okay?!”

Doctor Izumi nodded. “She’s fine, just resting like you. It was a brave thing you did. Or as my father called it, “A damn fool heroic stunt.” That’s practically high praise from him. I’ve told him to have you take it easy for a few days though. Rewinding can be stressful on the body.”

Wait. What? She couldn’t have been talking about All Might, so she had to mean…

He was going to file that under things he wasn’t going to think about.

“What do you mean I can’t see Izzy, you shriveled old crone!”

“Who’re you calling shriveled, you whipper-snapper! Why, when I was your age, I knew how to talk to my elders!”

“That was my foot you just ran over, you senile old fool!”

“Young Kirishima-Bakugo…!”

“Katsumi, please…!”

Eventually, the noise died down and Recovery Girl brought Midoriya, Shinso, and Tokoyami, along with All Might. The former Number One Hero, here to see him. His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest.

“Young Haimawari!” All Might beamed. “Quite the display of heroics out there! Though I really would ask that you not do anything like that again! This old heart of mine isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“Oh, really?” Doctor Izumi asked him. “Did I not do a good enough job the first time?”

“What? I, Eri! You see…”

“Relax,” she told him. “I’m just teasing you.”

“Oh, of course…”

Doctor Izumi chuckled and shook her head. “Just a few minutes, now, all of you. Haimawari needs his rest.”

As his new friends gathered around his bed, Isamu thought he might actually be doing all right after all.

Their Hero Academia -- Chapter Seven: Izumi Todoroki and Trying to Make Amends

“Mama! Daddy! Look! Ice! Ice!” She had been so happy the day her Quirk had come in, showing off her power to her parents by making ice cubes.

“Oh, wonderful, darling,” her mother had said.

“That’s good,” her father had said, smiling. He smiled so rarely, always seemed so lost in thought, but he always smiled for her and her mother.

And then she had started feeling warm. Too warm. “Ow! Hot! Hot!” And little flames danced from her hand…

***

Under normal circumstances, Izumu would have been glad to see her parents. But these were hardly normal circumstances. Not when she was lying in a bed in U.A.’s medical building. Not after what had happened on the Training Ground. She had pushed herself too hard and had collapsed during training. That too, would be cause for concern, but not as much as she was facing now. If she’d had more endurance… maybe she wouldn’t have collapsed.

Maybe she wouldn’t have injured Haimawari. Her memory of the event was fuzzy, but she knew she had seen him racing towards her as she had collapsed. He would have been at ground zero when she had ignited.

Mr. Aizawa had been direct, but not unkind, when he had told her what had happened. She had badly injured the young man, burns over most of his body. If it had not been for Doctor Izumi (He was injured by one Izumi, saved by another. The irony was not lost on her), he very likely would have died. And only the doctor’s unique Quirk had saved him from a lifetime of permanent injuries.

He had told her, had not tried to tell her that she should not feel guilty. Instead, he had told her to use that guilt to motivate herself, to make sure it never happened again. She would.

She should never have tried to absorb that much heat at once. Unlike her father, she couldn’t just lower the temperature to make ice. She absorbed the heat into herself. And that had to go somewhere, manifesting as flames. She could hold it in for a little while, but the amount of heat she’d absorbed, coupled with having already reached the limits of her endurance during the training exercise, had overwhelmed her. And when she had passed out, all of it had come racing out at once.

“We’ll just bring you home for a few days,” her mother said, “so you can recuperate properly. You’ll be feeling fine in no time.”

She hadn’t wanted her parents called in at all. Students got hurt all the time during training at U.A. It was to be expected. They had a fine medical staff, even beyond Doctor Izumi. And students pushing themselves too hard were nothing new either.

But it had been a fight to even allow her parents to let her attend. Her mother in particular had been extremely against it, worried over her health. They had settled on a compromise, one suggested by her father. She would be allowed to attend, but they were to be called if anything disastrous went wrong with her health. And pushing herself to exhaustion definitely counted for that.

“I do not wish to return home,” she said, looking to her father for support.

“You collapsed, Izumi,” he said. He looked over to her mother, then back to her. “We need to look out for your health. If you push yourself too hard…”

She could make her already fragile state even worse. “But if I do not push myself,” she said, “I will not improve. The only way to surpass my limitations is to push them.”

“We’re not asking you to drop out,” her mother said. “Just to take a few days off from more intensive training. You can keep up on your regular studies still.”

It sounded perfectly reasonable. But she understood her parents, understood their caution and worry. It would be a very short journey from coming home for a few days to staying longer to not returning to U.A. at all. The arguments would be logical and well-reasoned. And if she was forced to endure them, she could see her resistance wearing down.

Which was why it could not be allowed to happen.

“Doctor Izumi already recommended the same to Mr. Aizawa,” Izumi said firmly. “So I am already excused from active Heroics training for the next week. Here or home changes nothing about it. So I would prefer to stay here.”

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, her father let out a small laugh. “Such a stubborn girl,” he said.

Her parents exchanged a glance and as one, both said to the other, “She gets that from you.” This, in turn, prompted them both to laugh. Her father’s short and sharp, her mother’s longer, fuller.

“My health is always my concern,” Izumi went on. “I am aware I cannot last as long, run as fast, or work as hard as some of the others. But I am where I want to be. I want to be as good a hero as either of you. And I cannot do that if you treat me like a fragile flower.”

Her life had revolved around her health for as long as she could remember. Long doctor visits, the best specialists an absurdly considerable fortune could buy, enough medications to fill a large truck. Constant reminders that she just couldn’t keep up with her friends. And even the bullying that Katsumi had protected her from. But she truly was getting better. Getting stronger. Even months ago, she wouldn’t have been able to absorb that much heat fully rested, let alone exhausted. That had to be proof of something.

She took in a breath. “Please.”

Her mother looked like she was going to disagree, but finally managed a nod. “All right,” she said. “But I want you to have a visit with your regular doctor. Doctor Izumi has my utmost respect, but her primary training is emergency medicine.”

“Probably as good a deal as you’re going to get, Izumi,” her father said.

That was… better than she could have hoped. She unclenched a hand she didn’t realize she’d been clenching.

“I can agree to that,” she said finally. “Thank you.”

“Get back here, you hooligan!”

“Screw you, old woman!”

There was the sound of running in the hallway, until Katsumi appeared where the curtains parted, frantically looking behind her. “Crazy old lady didn’t think I could jump over her, but I showed her. Got halfway down the hall before she could even get turned around!”

She seemed to realize that it wasn’t just Izumi in the room and had the self-awareness to look slightly sheepish.

“Ah, hello, Mr. Todoroki. Mrs. Yaoyorozu.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed with anger as she drew her own conclusions. She dropped into a fighting stance. “You’re not taking Izzy! You can’t! I’ll… I’ll fight you! You’ll have to go through me first!”

She really didn’t mean to—Katsumi looked so serious—but Izumi actually burst out laughing. Her parents just looked confused, looking back and forth between the two girls.

“Katsumi,” she said. “That was never an option under serious consideration.” Not the whole truth, but it would prevent Katsumi from getting angrier. “And we have reached a further agreement to allow me to stay.

“But thank you for your support.”

“Oh,” Katsumi said, deflating slightly. “Well… good.”

A shriveled hand suddenly gripped Katsumi’s wrist. “Got you!” Recovery Girl said. “And I told you, no more visitors!”

The ancient Hero used her free hand to put her wheelchair into reverse, dragging Katsumi with her.

“Hey! Let go of me, you crone! You can’t do this! I’ve got rights!”

When they were both gone, her parents both looked over to her, incredulous. Izumi just shrugged. “Katsumi is always watching out for me,” she explained.

There was another shared glance between the two of them, the meaning of which she did not fully grasp. In point of fact, her father’s expression was quite confused, while her mother seemed to be trying to communicate something she couldn’t even guess at.

“I see Bakugo and Kirishima’s daughter is the same as ever,” her father said.

“Your… friend is quite devoted,” her mother observed.

“She is,” Izumi agreed. “I am quite lucky.”

***

Once she was back at the dorms, Izumi sought out Asuka Tokoyami. She could have gone to any of her closest circle of friends about this, but what she needed right now was the kind of bluntness only the bird-headed girl could provide. Toshi would try to soften the blow and Shota would inevitably get derailed into telling her how awesome she’d been prior to that fateful moment. So she needed someone who would tell her like it was. She just counted herself fortunate enough to have made her way back without having run into Haimawari. That was another good reason to avoid Toshi or Shota as sources of advice. They shared a floor with Haimawari.

She found Asuka in her room, the door open. Her friend’s room was tastefully decorated, with bright, floral prints on the walls. Asuka was at her desk, where she was typing on a green computer, the monitor of which was shaped like a frog’s head. “Asuka?” she asked. “May I come in? I need to talk to you.”

Her friend stopped typing and looked to the doorway. “Sure,” she said. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” Izumi said as she stepped inside. Asuka gave a slight nod to the spare chair in the room and she took a seat.

“How’re you feeling?” Asuka asked.

“Well enough,” she replied. “I am on several restrictions as far as Heroics go for a time, and I must see my doctor, but I am being allowed to stay. How is Haimawari?”

“Physically fine. Doc Clock fixed him up. We brought him back as soon as she cleared him to leave. Toshi and Shota got him to bed.”

“And mentally?”

“Harder to say. He was more concerned about how you were. But he did almost die. Who knows how he’ll handle it when he gets time to process it.”

Not exactly what she had wanted to hear, but also exactly why she had come to Asuka in the first place. Bad enough that she had potentially damaged her own career, but if she had waylaid someone else’s as well…

“I would not know how to begin to apologize to him,” Izumi said. “A simple “I’m sorry” does not seem sufficient for setting someone on fire.”

“Probably not,” Asuka agreed. She placed a finger on her face, near her beak. “But you should still try. I’m sure he knows you didn’t mean to do it.”

“Would… would some kind of apology gift be appropriate?” Perhaps that was it? Certainly, money was no object in that regard.

Asuka shook her head. “Definitely not. Don’t make it look like you’re trying to buy his forgiveness.”

There was a brief flash as Frog Shadow appeared, manifesting over Asuka’s shoulder. “But if you’re throwing money around, we could use a new phone.”

“Really?” Asuka asked her familiar.

Frog-Shadow just shrugged. “Your phone’s boring. No games!”

Green-feathers ruffled with irritation. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You never go anywhere fun, anyway!”

Izumi got the feeling she was now intruding on something rather personal. “I, ah, I shall leave you to your discussion, Asuka. Thank you for your honesty.”

***

Izumi stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her to give Asuka and Frog Shadow their privacy. She had known the bird-headed girl nearly all her life and considered her one of her closest friends, but she still could not even begin to understand the relationship between the girl and her Quirk. Granted, there was much about most of her classmates and friends she did not understand.

Kaminari was outside her dorm room, sitting on the floor, occasionally looking down at a text book or scribbling something on a piece of paper. She looked up. “Get the advice you’re looking for?” she asked.

Izumi raised an eyebrow at that. “How did you…?”

“I’m not that dumb, Todoroki. I was there and I saw what happened to Haimawari. And you’re probably one of the kindest people any of us knows. So yeah, you’re probably worried about what to do next. And everybody knows Tokoyami won’t sugarcoat anything.”

“I hurt him, Kaminari. I am not sure how you walk back from that.”

Kaminari shrugged, but it wasn’t a dismissive one, as far as Izumi could determine. She brought up both of her Extension Cords, sparks dancing from the tips, then pressed the double-prongs of each together, setting off a spark that set her twitching for a moment, before she pulled them apart.

“You and me, we’re not that different,” Kaminari said. “Your flames got out of hand, I can electrocute somebody or fry my own brain if I’m not paying attention. See, I did that on purpose just now, but it doesn’t take much to set off a spark if I’m not careful. All our Quirks can be dangerous if we’re not careful. Yours, mine, even Shoji’s.”

Her right Cord pointed at Izumi. “The real important thing is learning and not letting it happen again. We all came here knowing it was going to be a rough road and we might get hurt. Just gotta make sure it’s never the same way twice.”

Izumi nodded. “I… Thank you, Kaminari. I shall keep that in mind.”

The sound of hooves cut off any further discussion, as Mineta ran down the hall and into her room. The door reopened for a moment and she stuck her head out. “If anyone asked, I was here all night!” The door closed again.

Yes, she was never going to completely understand all of her classmates. But she especially was never going to understand Mineta.

***

It was not until the next morning that she was able to speak to Haimawari. Though exhausted by the day, she had slept poorly, replaying the events of the previous day over and over in her mind, trying to figure out what she should have done differently and what she could say now.

She let him eat breakfast with Shota and Asuka, eating hers instead with the Iida twins. They were too distracted with sketching something to bring up the events of yesterday. It brought her a little respite, at least.

Finally, though, she had to approach Haimawari and the others. “May I,” she began, finding her voice faltering. He did not flinch from her, but seemed slightly uneasy in her presence. That… that had to be something. Something she could hold onto, build up from. “May I speak to you, Haimawari, privately?”

“Come on, Shota,” Asuka said, rising. “I’ll help you with that homework problem before class.”

“What homework….” Shota began, until comprehension dawned on his face. “Right. Homework. Gotta go. See you in class!”

It left the two of the alone. Everyone else in the Common Room was busy enough. Everyone had seen what had happened. They would likely not be disturbed. Even if Haimawari looked like he would rather be anywhere else. “Ah… sure,” he said. “We can talk.”

She took the seat opposite him and took a deep breath. “I’m told you tried to save me yesterday. Thank you.”

At this, he did smile. “Just doing what heroes do. Felt like I was moving before I could think.”

Izumi nodded. “I’m told many of us have had a moment like that.”

The silence hung before them like an uncomfortable cloud.

“I hurt you,” she said when she could bear the silence no more. “Badly. You could have died because I pushed myself beyond my limits. Because I was not strong enough to control or contain my Quirk.”

He looked down at the table and folded his hands in front of him. “I definitely didn’t think I’d come that close to dying on my second day,” Haimawari said after a moment. “But I’d do it again. Even when I caught on fire, all I could think was “at least I went out doing the right thing.’”

“I am sorry,” Izumi said. “You should never have been put in that position. Never should have had to face that.”

“Isn’t that why we’re all here?” he asked. “Because we can’t help racing into danger? You don’t have to apologize to me, Todoroki.”

“I must,” she said, now looking down herself. She realized she was crying. “If anything more sever had happened… If Doctor Izumi had not been able to… I do not know what I could have done.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “P—p—please,” he said. “Don’t cry. I said you don’t have to apologize to me, and I meant it. But if it means that much to you, I accept your apology. And I forgive you.”

She looked up. He was smiling and there was not a hint of malice or fear in his eyes. “I was afraid you would hate me,” she said. “Or fear that I might hurt you again.”

“Don’t really have it in me to hate people,” he said. “Got plenty of room for friends, more than I’d like for fear, but no fear for my friends. I’ve got plenty of doubts all on my own. Like what I’ll do when my back’s to the wall.”

“I would guess you’ll probably rush in and try to do the right thing again.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“So,” she ventured. “We are… all right? Things are “good” between us?” Why did people have to be so complicated?

“We’re good, Todoroki,” he said.

“After everything,” she said, “I must insist that you call me Izumi. It only seems right.”

“Only if you call me Isamu.”

“It is a deal.”

***

“See, Izumi?” her father said. “You just have to make sure you let the fire out. Careful where you put it though.”

“I know, Daddy! I know!”

“Just keep it balanced,” her mother had told her. “And you’ll do just fine.”

“We know you’ll make us proud.”

Their Hero Academia – Chapter Eight: Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo and the Need To Woman Up

Katsumi’s fists pounded into the heavy bag hanging from her ceiling, letting her vent her anger and frustration. At least, that was the theory. As of right now, it didn’t seem to be doing her much good. The events of the previous day kept playing over in her mind.

It had been one shit show after another. First, her team had fallen in the fourth round. She’d exhausted her reserves and run out of explosive power and the rest of her team had let her down to boot. Some people might have said that lasting four rounds was good. But not her. She was aiming for the finish line.

And then Izzy… She’d always known Izzy was powerful. But she hadn’t realized just how powerful she was. That girl truly was silk hiding steel. Even if she’d pushed herself too far. But Katsumi did the same thing. She could hardly blame Izzy for that. Even if her heart had seized up in her chest when Izzy went down.

In some dumb way, she was grateful to the Newb. If he hadn’t caught Izzy… Dumb Newb had damn near gotten himself killed for it though. Maybe she really could ease up on him. A little. She had a reputation to uphold.

But her thoughts lingered longest on what she’d said in front of Izzy’s parents. She’d threatened to fight two Pro Heroes, one of them the Number Three Hero. She’d threatened to fight them for Izzy, to keep them from taking her away. Who knows what she would have done if that withered old crone hadn’t dragged her off?

Well, Dad probably would have laughed and encouraged her. So that was something. Papa on the other hand…

“You are a mess, girl,” she told herself, pausing to catch her breath. “And you’ve got it bad.”

There was a series of knocks at her door. Three short taps, one hard tap, a pause, then two more hard taps. Go Beyond! Plus…ULTRA!

Katsumi shook her head. “What do you want, Toshi?”

“Can I come in?”

“Before I answer that, do you have Loud Kid with you? Because I cannot deal with him before I’ve had coffee.”

“Shota’s having breakfast with Asuka and Haimawari.”

“Then you can come in.”

Toshi slid the door open awkwardly, as he was carrying a pair of coffees and a pair of those Pro Hero branded power bars he liked so much. “Thought you might like some breakfast,” he said, offering her one of each.

She eyed the coffee mug suspiciously. “What kind of coffee is that?”

“It’s coffee-flavored coffee. Black, no sugar.” Toshi made what she was guessing he thought was an imitation of her scowl. “Like my heart.”

She gave him a blank look. “Was that supposed to be me?”

His eyes went wide. “Ah… that depends on whether or not you liked it?”

Toshi could be annoying sometimes, but he did know how to make her laugh. And whether she liked it or not, he was always looking out for her. For all of them. Even if they didn’t want or need it. She took the coffee mug and gave him an affectionate punch in the arm, nearly causing him to spill his own coffee. “You’re all right, Toshi,” she said. “Thanks.”

She accepted the offered power bar and took a bite out of it. “So what’re you really doing here?”

“Why do you assume I have an ulterior motive?”

“Because you only bring me food and coffee when you wanna talk.”

“Well, you do get kind of hangry…”

She rolled her eyes. “Out with it, Toshi.”

“Just checking up on you,” he said. “After everything that happened yesterday, I was worried about you.”

Her pride flared. Who did he think she was? Some kid who needed a babysitter? She wasn’t somebody who needed looking out for, like Loud Kid. “I’m a big girl,” she said.

“I know that,” he said. “But yesterday… yesterday as rough.”

Sometimes, Toshi had a real talent for understatement.

“I mean, you and me, we know the risks. Our parents are Pro Heroes. We’ve seen them get hurt sometimes. Sometimes badly.”

That was true. Dad got hurt all the time, mostly minor scrapes, cuts, and bruises. But she was still haunted sometimes by a memory from years ago, when Papa had been badly beaten by a Villain named Strongarm. She remembered seeing him broken and bandaged in that hospital bed, she remembered hanging onto Dad. It was one of the only times she could remember seeing him cry…

“You don’t have to remind me,” she said. “I know getting hurt’s a possibility.”

“You know you getting hurt is a possibility.”

She paused, coffee cup halfway to her mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw you, when we were watching Izumi’s group…” He trailed off, as she began to glare at him. “I didn’t mean to! But you were getting kind of loud and everything! But, every time Izumi nearly got hit or had to dodge or when she collapsed… I saw your face.”

“Probably the same kind of face you were making,” she snapped. “It’s Izzy. We all care about her.”

“Yeah, we do,” Toshi agreed. “And maybe I’m not a really great judge about this… but maybe you care about her as more than just a friend.”

She had him pressed up against the wall, one hand on his neck, before she knew what she was doing. Both coffee cups had clattered to the floor, spilling their contents on the carpet. “The hell did you just say, Toshi?!”

His eyes were widening as he struggled against her grip. “Can’t… can’t… breathe… Katsumi…”

With a growl, she let him go. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said…”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked. Did the whole freaking school know? How the hell was she supposed to make people quake in fear of her if everyone knew she was soft over somebody? …Did Izzy know?

Toshi shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t talked to everybody about it, but Asuka noticed it even earlier than I did. But I don’t think most of them know. Shota definitely doesn’t. And we’re not going to tell him.”

Okay, that all added up. And she could definitely cross Ojiro off the list of people who maybe knew. If the invisible teen knew, the entire school would have known. People in America would have known. Theoretical evil twins from an alternate universe would have known. No gossip was safe from invisible lips.

She jabbed a finger in Toshi’s direction. “You tell no one about this.”

Toshi backed away from her finger, up against the wall. “Is this… is this because you like girls?” he asked. “Because we’re all okay with that. Sero’s gay too, you know…”

“It’s not that, you idiot!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “First off, I like guys and I like girls! And that’s still not the point! It’s… it’s an Izzy thing. I don’t know if she’d feel that way about me. I don’t know what a girl like her would even want with a girl like me.”

Toshi held up his hands. “I don’t know what to tell you, Katsumi. I really don’t. But I think you’re going to have to do something. You can’t just keep circling like that.”

He offered her a smile. “What I do know is you’re a pretty amazing person. And you and Izumi have been friends a long time. That’s not going to change, no matter what else happens. And I’m your friend too.”

“…I really hate it when you make sense.”

The silence hung over the room for a moment. “This isn’t the part where we hug, Toshi. Get outta here.”

He laughed as he exited her room. “Okay, Katsumi. I’m… I’m rooting for you.”

***

When she stepped into the Common Room, Katsumi was a woman on a mission. She was going to find Izzy and she was going to talk to her. An actual talk, with words and everything. The kind of mushy, touch-feely talk Dad derided and tried to substitute grunts for and the kind that Papa was so good at.

Step One: locate Izzy.

Actually, Step One turned about to be: Dodge the Chaos.

“You take that back, Frenchie!” Mineta snapped at Aoyama.

“I just call them like I see them, Chéri.”the blonde snapped back. “You prance around here, trying to seduce everything with a pulse. You know what that makes you.”

“Okay, that’s it!”

“Bring it!”

What happened next… couldn’t exactly be called a fight. Not with both of them just standing at arms’ length, flailing their arms and slapping them hands against each other.

And then some of the others started cheering them on. Sero was recording the whole thing on his phone, Ojiro was cheering on Aoyama, Kaminari was cheering on Mineta, and the Iida Twins were yelling at everyone that fighting would not be tolerated…

Yep, she just sidestepped that whole thing, passing by Koda, who was watching the whole thing rather helplessly.

There. Izzy was at one of the tables… with the Newb.

Great. Just great.

Maybe she could try the whole “being nicer” thing?

Yep. She was going to walk over there and ask to talk to Izzy. She wasn’t even going to threaten the Newb into moving. She was going to put on her friendliest face, go over there, and talk to Izzy.

So why weren’t her legs working?

She was Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo, the wo-manliest Hero-in-Training in the whole school, daughter of two of manliest and most awesome heroes on the planet. She didn’t back down from anything. Not from a fight, not from a challenge, and definitely not from a girl she’d had a crush on since she was eight.

One foot in front of the other. She could do this.

So why… was the Newb… holding her hand? And grinning like an idiot? And Izzy was smiling too…

She ran.

***

Izzy was back in school finally, having been gone for a long time because she’d been so sick. She’d ended up in the same class as Katsumi.

There’d been three of them. She didn’t remember their names. She just remembered what they’d done.

She’d fallen on the playground, while they were running, playing tag. She wasn’t as fast as anyone else, panting and out of breath.

“Why don’t you just stay down?” one girl had sneered, all three of her eyes cold and cruel.

“Nobody wants to play with a sick kid like you!” another had taunted, her spiked tail swinging behind her.

“Can’t believe somebody like her has Hero parents!” a third had said. “They must be so embarrassed!”

“All of you, shut up! Leave her alone!” She’d picked up a handful of rocks, letting her explosive power seep into them. She wasn’t supposed to use her Quirk while at school or on the playground, but they just made her so mad…! She threw the rocks, where they exploded at the mean girls’ feet, all bang and no flame, but more than enough to scare them off.

“Fine!” the three-eyed girl had snapped. “You want her, you can have her!”

She offered Izzy a hand-up. “It’s okay,” Katsumi had said. “I’m here.

Slowly, Izzy’s sobs stopped. “Thank you,” she’d said. “I didn’t… I didn’t know they’d be so mean.”

“Don’t worry, Izzy,” she’d said. “Anything happens, I’ll exploderize them!”

Izzy had pressed her hands to her face. “I… I wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt…”

“Aaaw, maybe I can just exploderize them a little?”

“Maybe just a little, Katsumi.”

“Don’t worry,” she told Izzy again. “I’ll take care of you.”

And Izzy was hugging her and she had never felt more like a Hero than she had right then.

***

Katsumi hadn’t gotten far, just under one of the trees in the courtyard. She wasn’t going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo, and she definitely did not just go crying over anything.

She was… she was happy for Izzy. Yes. Izzy absolutely deserved all the happiness in the world. She couldn’t be mad at her for finding happiness…

“ARGH!” She let out a scream, releasing some of the rage she felt burning up inside her. Katsumi was well aware that she had what some might call “anger issues.” And sometimes, yeah, she let it out at the wrong times. Usually when someone pissed her off or did something stupid. But she had rarely been as angry as she was right now. Angry at the unfairness of it all, angry at missed chances, angry at herself for waiting so long.

She needed something to punch, something to explode. But no targets presented themselves. And she was smart enough not to just unleash random property damage. She didn’t need the headache or the detention that would come with that.

Problems she could punch were so much easier to solve.

“Katsumi.”

She looked up and blinked rapidly, because she had to be dreaming. It was Izzy. But why would Izzy be out here?

“Katsumi,” Izzy repeated. “In all the time I have known you, I have never seen you run like that. What’s wrong?”

Words left her mouth before she had the chance to stop them. “You came running after me? You break up with your new boyfriend already?”

Confusion worked its way across Izzy’s face. “My… what?”

She struggled to remember the Newb’s actual name. “Haimawari. I saw the two of you. I’m… I’m happy for you. Much as I hate to admit it… he seems like the Hero-type. And you deserve the best, Izzy.”

“Katsumi,” Izzy said, still looking very confused, “Haimawari is my friend. That is all. I don’t know what would lead you to believe otherwise.”

“I saw the two of you! Smiling, holding hands…”

“Ah.” Izumi nodded. “We were just speaking to each other. I apologized for setting him on fire.”

Only Izzy could have delivered a statement like that.

“He forgave me,” she went on. “I was… grateful for that. I was so ashamed of what I had done to him… I feared he might hate me.”

No one could hate Izzy, that much, Katsumi was certain of.

“So you don’t… like him, like that?” Katsumi prompted. “You’re just friends?’

“Just friends,” Izzy assured her.

Relief washed over Katsumi like a wave, quieting some of the flames of rage within her. Those flames were quickly replaced by icy, cold dread gripping its way around her heart. Izzy might not have been involved with the Newb… but she still seemed blind to how she felt about her.

“I am sorry if I upset you somehow,” Izzy told her. “I know… I am not always good at knowing how other people will react. But I truly do not understand why it would upset you so.”

Katsumi looked away, the words dying in her throat for once, instead of escaping before she could consider them. How could she tell Izzy how she felt? What if she didn’t feel the same way?

“Katsumi. Please. Talk to me.”

It was now or never. Time to Woman Up.

“I’m in love with you, Izzy. Been in love with you for a long time.”

And then the dormitory exploded.

#my hero academia #my hero academia: vigilantes #their hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic #My writing

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seungcheolsbodyharness · 6 years ago

Text

warnings: hateful behavior, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (nothing is described, mentions are only in passing of prolonged use), death

wc: 3.8k

a/n: bonus points if you can guess where i got the idea for this one 👀👀👀

“excuse me, i - not to bother you, but i feel like i’ve seen you somewhere before.”

you look up from your coffee, and smile gently. this isn’t the first time you’ve heard this, and it probably won’t be the last. the woman standing in front of you is, as you suspected, a stranger.

“i’m sorry, i’m afraid we haven’t met before.” you say, shrugging.

“no, no, it -” the woman laughs. “it wasn’t that. weren’t you a model for that new makeup campaign? i saw it in a magazine somewhere.”

you laugh goodnaturedly back. “no, that wasn’t me. i’ve never modeled before. it’s very kind of you to say, though.”

“oh, well, you definitely could! forgive me for bothering you.”

you wave her off. “oh please, not a bother at all. i mean, not to brag, but i kind of get that a lot.”

the woman laughs and moves towards the counter of the cafe. “i’m sure you do, sweetheart.”

you turn your attention back to your coffee and the reports on your computer screen, pushing down on the unsettled feeling beginning to gather in your gut. you look around quickly, but no one is staring at you.

no one you can see.

you make your way out of the shop, bags of new clothes hanging from your wrist. there are cabs speeding up and down the road as you start the short walk back to your apartment.

you have headphones in, sunglasses on as you keep your eyes forward to avoid talking to anyone. the shops you adore so much are less than ten blocks, and even despite the cold demeanor you put forth, you can hear numerous shouts and leers as you cross the street.

you roll your eyes as you keep moving, and that’s when you see it.

you stop dead in your tracks and turn to look into the window of a shop you don’t remember having been there before, face to face with a painting of a girl that looks spectacularly like you. you’re not sure if you’re feeling worried, or scared, or impressed - after all, the painting just looks like you. there’s no proof to say that it is.

but you have a desperate need to find out.

you step inside the shop and it’s dark, the only light coming in from the sun outside. you quickly decide there is no one else inside this shop, a feeling of being utterly alone flowing through you.

“may i help you, miss?”

you shriek and jolt at the sound of a man’s voice behind you, old and raspy and deep. you turn to him, chest heaving, and nod slowly. “the - the painting in the window. i’d like to see it, please.”

the man - nearly decrepit for how old he must be - nods slowly, and leads you back towards the front of the shop where the painting is displayed. he gently takes the painting from its stand and holds it up in front of you. glancing slowly between you and the painting, he remarks on the resemblance.

“yes, yes, i - how long have you had this?” you ask, standing closer to the painting to inspect it heavily. it had dust on its frame, and the brushstrokes and use of color gave it an air of easy mastery. you laugh nervously. “i can’t even remember ever having seen this store.”

“a young man brought it to me recently. quite a handsome fellow himself, i must say. told me he’d found it among his father’s things.” the shopkeeper tells you, brushing some dust from the frame. at your comment about having never seen his store, he shrugs. “we do seem to pass through the public’s eye quite a bit. would you happen to be interested in buying the painting, miss?”

something in the pit of your gut tells you not to do it. you feel a strange sort of dread come over you at the idea of leaving it here though, and you find yourself nodding. “yeah, yeah i am interested. how much is it?”

you leave the shop now carrying not only multiple bags of clothes, but a painting of a girl who wasn’t you tucked under your arm as well. you’d asked the shopkeeper if he’d had any details on the man who’d brought the painting in, but he’d been unable to give you anything other than a short description and a reiteration that the man had really, truly been beautiful.

you’ve heard good things about the new art gallery that has just opened in downtown. showcasing young, talented artists desperate to make their breakthrough, students from the local art schools, students from local grade schools for fundraisers.

the first bad thing you hear comes the monday after you hang the painting in your apartment.

there are whispers in the halls as you make your way to your desk, and it’s not long before a coworker approaches you, voice a hushed whisper.

“there’s a showing at that new gallery,” she says. “i think you should be concerned.”

your face paints in confusion and you ask her why.

“the paintings are all of someone who looks just like you.”

perhaps, you thought, the painting in your apartment hadn’t come from someone’s attic at all.

you go to the gallery after work, steeling yourself before heading through the door. the title of the exhibition, a display tells you, is “a lesson in pride”.

you walk farther in and are greeted by a man sitting behind a reception desk. when he looks up at you, his face is frozen in shock. “it’s you.” he says, “you’re the muse.”

“excuse me,” you seethe, walking past him and into the exhibition hall. before you can even think about it, you’re surrounded by frame after frame, paintings all of a girl who look just like you. you hear footsteps coming down the hall after you, and you round quickly to see not only the receptionist, but a tall man you can only describe as ethereal.

“are you the artist?” you ask, not even trying to hide the anger in your tone. when the man nods, you step closer to him and get into his face, barely restraining the urge to punch him. “how long have you been watching me?”

“i don’t watch you, please. your instagram was in my suggested accounts feed a few months ago. i’m sure with all those followers you have you must barely notice new ones.” the man smirks down at you and you’re not sure if you believe him.

“what’s your account name?” you ask, opening the app on your phone.

“it’s prideofjunhui, miss. while you spend the next few minutes searching, would you like to see more of the exhibition?”

“i most certainly would not.” you bite, still scrolling through your list of followers. it wasn’t your fault that you’d somehow amassed a following. you find his account and there it is, full of aesthetic photos from familiar parts of the city and his paintings. you turn to him, still confused on the origins of the painting in your apartment. “i need you to come with me.”

“with how angry you seem to be, i’m not sure that’s a good idea.” he teases, and you’re angrier at yourself because the longer you look at him the less angry you are. his bone structure and proportions are flawless, and he’s dressed in a way that makes it clear he knows how attractive he is.

“i - i bought one of these paintings last weekend in a dingy old shop near my apartment. i want to know if it’s yours.”

the man - junhui, you assume - smiles wide and nods. “of course i’ll come take a look.”

junhui follows you back to your apartment and marvels at the painting where it hangs in your living room.

“it’s not mine.” he says. he’s smiling still as he says it, filling you with unease.

“it looks just like yours.” you press.

he only shrugs, before turning to you. “will you model for me?”

“will i - no, i’m not a model, i don’t model, i work in accounting.”

“you should be more proud of how beautiful you are.” he says softly, smiling at you warmly.

“who’s to say i’m not?” you ask, eyebrows raised. “after all, you’ve seen my instagram. i have hundreds of thousands of followers. everyone there tells me how beautiful i am.”

junhui hums. “i’m not sure i believe you. you have a face made to be painted, you know. painting really captures the true soul of a person, i think.”

“that’s not always a good thing.” you mumble, thinking about the paintings you’d learned about in your one art history class in college.

“no, no, it’s always a good thing.” junhui presses. “take me, for example. i’m absolutely certain that my paintings are the best. whether anyone else believes or supports that is irrelevant. that’s how you should feel about yourself. if i may be so bold,” he turns to you and takes your jaw in his hands, lifting it towards the ceiling. “you’re too beautiful to deal with anyone lesser.”

“what the fuck does that mean?” you jerk your head from his hands, and he’s smiling at you again, bright and wide.

“pretty people shouldn’t have to deal with the ugly ones.”

you thank junhui for his time and ask him to leave. he agrees only after giving you his number and making you promise to think about modelling for him.

you have always considered yourself to be a humble person. you’ve been society’s view of beautiful since childhood, but your parents had raised you to know that beauty comes from within.

you know, deep in your heart, that a person’s physical appearance has no bearing on who they truly are.

and yet, somehow, after your visit with junhui, that view begins to change.

your coworker, the same one who’d told you about the gallery exhibition, comes up to you the next day at work to ask if you’d gone to see it.

last week, if asked to describe her, you’d have listed all of her kindnesses, would have said that she was pretty and meant it. but as she stands in front of you now, all you can notice are her physical imperfections.

“it was fine.” you snip, “it turns out he follows my instagram, apparently i’m his muse now.” you find that you feel more pride saying that then you’d thought you would.

“oh, well, i’m so glad it turned out to be nothing to worry about!” she smiles warmly and all you can see is the crookedness of her teeth.

you grimace back, saying, “well i really should focus on this report.”

“oh! yes, of course.” she smiles again before returning to her own desk and you find yourself rolling your eyes.

as soon as she’s gone, panic rips through you - you’ve never been such a haughty person before.

you take a deep breath and focus on the numbers in front of you.

it happens again and again throughout the day - you catch yourself committing snippy little microaggressions to different coworkers, even the poor interns you’ve made a point to be nothing but kind to. you chalk it up to the lack of sleep you’d gotten the night before and do your best to make it through the rest of the day.

you make it home and you’re surprised to find junhui waiting for you. he smiles at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“hello, beautiful.” he says and you roll your eyes. “aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“i don’t remember inviting you over.” you reply, sticking your keys into the lock and turning, opening the door and moving through.

junhui sticks his head through the doorway and sees you standing stock-still in your living room, mouth agape and eyes wide. you turn to him and lift a finger to point in the direction of the painting hanging on your wall.

“the - the painting.” you whisper.

junhui joins you in the living room and follows your gaze. the painting has changed - the mouth is curled into a hideous grin, teeth crooked and stained, the face covered in small boils, the hair dry and unkempt.

“how - how did this happen?” you can’t bring your voice above a hushed, fearful whisper.

“well, can i ask - have you looked in a mirror lately?”

your wide eyes turn to him before you slowly make your way into the nearby bathroom, and you scream at the sight you find there. your hands come up to cover your mouth before slowly lowering.

your reflection is familiar but somehow changed - your cheekbones more pronounced, lips softer and fuller, your eyelashes long and your nose less pronounced.

junhui joins you in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on one arm. “i must say you look beautiful.”

“but - but how? why have i changed?” you push past him and out of the bathroom, refusing to look at the painting where it hangs.

“does it really matter?” junhui asks. “you’ve gotten more beautiful. what could possibly matter more than that?”

you ignore him, desperately going over what had been different about that day.

“of course there are things that matter more than that, junhui.” you shrill, eyes panicked.

he shrugs. “i’m not so sure that’s true. i mean, if you look like this, you really could be a model. steal men’s hearts, their wallets, anything you want, probably.” the look on his face is full of something dangerous. he steps closer to you and takes your face into his hands, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks.

“all i’m saying is whatever you’re doing differently, maybe you should keep doing it. being beautiful has so many advantages. you should be proud of yourself.”

you close your eyes and sigh, but make no move to remove yourself from his hold. you don’t really want to. “why do you keep saying that?”

“what? you should be proud. you’re more beautiful than so many of the hideous things i see on a day to day basis.” junhui presses forward and places his lips on yours. you feel something warm in the pit of your stomach as his mouth moves over your lips.

“you -” you pull away, panting, “you shouldn’t call people things.”

junhui laughs, “i think you’ll come around.”

junhui stays the night, and in the morning, both he and the painting are gone.

you feel a huge weight lifted from your shoulders, but in retrospect, perhaps you wish the painting would have stayed. served as a reminder.

your new attitude, you see, only grows worse.

each day, you find yourself upping the ante. your face is constantly twisted in disdain by the fact that you, someone so ethereal, should have to be surrounded by others who are clearly below you.

you put on your prettiest pout when you ask your boss for your own office and a raise. enthralled, he’s unable to deny your request - even when your request includes firing the man whose position you’ll be taking.

“i don’t like looking at him.” you tell your supervisor. “he makes me so uncomfortable.” it doesn’t matter that your discomfort comes from the poor man’s appearance. what matters is your discomfort.

the supervisor nods, eyes practically glazed over. you smile at him sweetly despite your inner disgust - really, he needed to learn how to shave and get his skin taken care of.

the day after you get the raise, you quit.

you’re finally going to be a model. agencies have been falling over their feet to hire you, and you feel like finally you’ll be able to show the world what real beauty looks like.

this is where things really begin to go wrong.

your face and your body stay as beautiful as ever, even as years full of drugs and partying and cheating and lying fly by - you never seem to age a day.

you become caught in scandal after scandal; you’re caught with that man’s wife, that man’s husband, caught stumbling drunk into photoshoots that have to be rescheduled, caught high behind the stage of your most recent paris fashion week.

and yet you are kept around, too beautiful and entrancing to say no to.

you often wonder if, as well as the enhanced beauty gifted to you by the painting, you’ve also gained the ability to bend others to your will. make them soft for your suggestions. not quite mind control, of course, more like...more like a siren’s song.

eventually, people start to become suspicious of the fact that you don’t seem to be aging. your competitors begin to wonder just how many surgeries you’ve had, which you always laugh heartily at when their claims are brought to your attention.

“really,” they posit, “someone with her drug and alcohol history should look far, far worse. if anything, she looks younger than when she started out.”

but through it all, there remains one constant aside from your petty, destructive behavior. your dreams about junhui.

every night since he left and took the painting with him, you’ve dreamed of him. some nights it’s of him holding the painting and watching it wither into an unrecognizable, black charred mess within its frame. other nights you dream of him morphing into the old man from the shop, over and over until you wake up near tears.

but the nightmares are bearable. you wake up in tears with a dull ache in your chest, but it passes - you remind yourself that you are the most beautiful woman in existence, that dreams and nightmares are merely made up by your brain, and nothing to worry about.

nothing at all, until you return to your home in paris and find junhui waiting outside your door, looking like he too hasn’t aged a day since you last saw him.

“well isn’t this a surprise.” you say flatly, and then you notice what’s leaning against the wall next to his legs.

he smiles, big and wide, and chuckles. “oh, i think you’ll be surprised all right. why don’t we go inside.”

you nod, hands shaking as you unlock the door and lead him inside. “i don’t - i don’t want to look at that.”

“oh, so you already know what it is, then?” junhui leans the painting against the wall.

“i haven’t seen in you in years and this - this is what you bring me? i don’t want it.”

junhui laughs, a dark hollow sound. “oh, but i’ve never left you! i see you every night, don’t i? and there have been a few men, and some women, in the last few years. i enjoyed keeping an eye on you.”

fear spikes cold through your chest and you begin to struggle breathing. “what are you saying, exactly, junhui?”

“oh, my dear, you have no idea what you’ve been apart of. who you’re dealing with. the things me and my kind are capable of.” junhui’s grin is venomous, teeth sharp and jagged in his mouth.

“you - your kind?” your entire body is trembling. the only thing you can think of is how you wished you’d never bought that fucking painting, never gone to that gallery.

“you’re smart, you must see what they say about you in the news. what those silly priests think about you over in the vatican. think about it, my dear.” junhui’s features are growing sharper and more ethereal the longer he stands in your presence. he nearly seems to glow.

“i’m not a witch, and i’m not possessed, and you’re not - demons aren’t - they’re not real.” you can’t fight the realization as it floods your thoughts, and junhui laughs as you fall to your knees.

“oh please. you thought you’d gone ten years without aging all by luck? i know you’re not that stupid. but i guess drugs can do that to even the smartest, prettiest girls.” junhui pats your head and you jerk away from his touch. he moves away from you and towards the wall where the painting leans, covered by a sheet.

“there’s something i want you to see.” his voice is full of mirth in a way that sends chills up your spine. you can feel the tears streaming down your face. he removes the sheet and turns the frame towards you, setting it down just in front of you.

when you refuse to look up at it, junhui grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head up. “look.” your eyes open despite your wishes for them not to, and you sob at what you see.

there, in a pristine golden frame, the painting once of a beautiful girl is now warped. it looks almost as if it has been dunked in acid and repainted, the beautiful girl replaced by a haggard, older woman surrounded by rotted flowers and dark, murky waters. “i don’t understand.” you whisper, voice thick with tears.

“this, my dear, is what you look like on the inside! and oh, how the humble do fall.” junhui shifts his grip in your hair and forces you to look up at him. “and it wasn’t even hard for you, was it? you fell from grace so quickly. it was beautiful to watch, really.”

“get out.” you whisper, jerking away from his hold to no avail. he grips harder and you shout, “get out!”

junhui’s laugh is maniacal, insane this time. he releases you and you fall forward, pushing yourself up and onto shaking legs.

“how do i undo it?” you demand, although through tears and a shaky voice it sounds more like a beg.

“you can’t just undo that many years of hateful pride, my dear. there’s really only one answer.” junhui chuckles again. “mortals are all really so, so foolish.”

you turn away from him to rub your eyes and when you turn back, more demands on your tongue, he’s gone. the door is still closed, the windows all locked, but you’re alone with the painting.

you take the painting into the kitchen and set it onto your counter. you grab a butcher’s knife from the block next to your fridge, and holding it in both shaking hands, lift it high above your head.

you hold for a few moments, and then with a scream, you plunge the knife into the painting, right into the woman’s chest.

they don’t find your body for a few days. when they do, you’re lying on the floor of your kitchen, body aged ten years and nearly unrecognizable.

cause of death: a stab wound to the chest.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #wen junhui #seventeen jun #junhui imagines #junhui scenarios #forgive me father

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thelastspeecher · 6 years ago

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Angiewolf AU - It Hits the Fan

Day 01 Day 02 Day 03 Day 04 Day 05 Day 06 Day 07 Day 08 Day 09 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15 Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20 Day 21 Day 22 Day 23 Day 24 Day 25 Day 26 Day 27 Day 28 Day 29 Day 30

Today, I decided to write a new ficlet for my NaNoWriMo write, instead of using a prompt like I’ve been doing. I got randomly inspired to write the pivotal NWHS-equivalent scene for the Angiewolf AU. So that’s what I did. And honestly, this was a long time coming.

Word count: 1980

Stan took the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit and began to swab it over Dipper’s cuts.

“What exactly happened out there?” he asked. Molly and Emily, standing nearby, exchanged a look. They knew what had happened: a rogue werewolf had crossed into the pack’s territory and gone after the first vulnerable relatives it could find. But what Dipper and Mabel had seen…that was another story.

“Well,” Mabel started, “first, there was this huge gray wolf that showed up. It looked sick and hungry, with, like fur falling out and everything. I was a bit sad about that, but then it attacked me and Dipper.”

“You two didn’t get bitten, did you?” Emily asked. Dipper and Mabel shook their heads.

“Before we could even get a scratch from that wolf, another one showed up,” Dipper said. “It tackled the first wolf, and they got into a fight.”

“That one wasn’t gray,” Mabel said. “It looked more like…ooh! Like a kinda old golden retriever.” Molly snorted quietly. “And almost right after the yellow wolf showed up, two more came, and they picked us up and dropped us off in front of the door. Then they ran away. So today’s been a four wolf day.” Mabel winked. “Not too shabby.”

“You didn’t get bitten,” Stan insisted. Dipper and Mabel shook their heads again.

“We got a bit dinged up when we were being carried to the front door by the third and fourth wolves,” Dipper said. “But it wasn’t from being bitten.” Stan nodded, relieved.

“Good.” Someone walked through the front door. By the floral scent that accompanied the person, Stan knew it was Angie. “Ang, how was your walk?” Stan asked without looking up. Mabel let out a small gasp. Stan turned around. “Holy-”

“Mom, are you okay?” Molly asked. Angie waved a hand airily. She was covered in large scratches, some actively bleeding. Her skin had started to turn purple from bruises in multiple locations.

“I’m fine,” Angie said. She took a twig out of her hair, grimacing slightly. “I’m a fairly resilient person.”

“Did you get mugged or something?” Mabel asked.

“No, sweetie. Just had a nasty fall while I was on my walk.”

“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?” Dipper said.

“Yeah, when old people fall, it can be really bad,” Mabel added. Angie raised an eyebrow.

“I ain’t quite that old yet. And like I said, I’m fine. I just need to take a nap, and I’ll be back to normal in no time.” Angie took a seat at the kitchen table. “The two of you look like ya fell in a thornbush. What happened?”

“There was this huge wolf that attacked us,” Mabel said. “But then we got rescued by another wolf. And then two more wolves grabbed us and brought us to the house.”

“Sounds like quite the experience,” Angie said with a small smile. “I take it ya got scratched up from the wolves carryin’ ya?”

“Yeah. But it’s not that bad. Just a few bumps.”

“Ya didn’t get bitten, did ya?” Angie pried. Mabel and Dipper shared a look.

“No, we didn’t,” Dipper said. “Why are you guys so worried about whether we got bitten?” His eyes widened. “Those weren’t normal wolves, were they?”

“Whattaya mean, not normal wolves?” Emily jumped in.

“Werewolves!” Mabel gasped. “Those were werewolves! Right?”

“They were way bigger than normal wolves,” Dipper said. “And they acted smarter than normal wolves.”

“Geez, kid,” Stan sighed. He struggled to keep his composure. “Werewolves aren’t real. Relax. Wolves are just bigger than you expect them to be. Got it?”

“But being nervous about us getting bitten-” Dipper started.

“Hon, you can catch all sorts of nasty germs from wild animal bites,” Angie interrupted. “That’s why we’re worried.”

“…Oh.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. His hand came away bloody.

“Dipper!” Mabel gasped. Dipper stared at his hand. “Did you actually get bitten?”

“I don’t think so,” Dipper said. Emily peered at the back of Dipper’s neck. She paled.

“No, Dipper, you did. It’s- it’s not a big bite, but it did draw some blood,” Emily said. Stan looked at Angie. He could hear her heartrate skyrocketing. She managed to keep her cool, though.

“Okay, well, let’s just clean it up fer now,” Angie said calmly. “Stan, can I talk to ya?”

“Yep.” Stan handed the rubbing alcohol to Molly and followed Angie out of the kitchen. Angie leaned against the wall in the hallway. She let out a small hiss of pain. “Babe, how beat up did you get fighting off that stranger?” Stan whispered.

“Bit more ‘n I expected,” Angie said quietly. “He was a toughie.” She shook her head. “That’s not what’s important. Dipper got bitten.”

“Yeah. He did.” Stan dragged his hands down his face. “Holy Moses, what are we gonna do?”

“Only thing we can.” Angie took a breath. “Explain everything to Dipper and Mabel, help Dipper through the initial transformation, and then work on the cure so that we don’t send him home a werewolf.”

“Yeah.” Stan chewed on his lip. “Will he transform tonight? It’s a full moon.”

“Uh, no. The ‘virus’ or whatever has to have time to spread through the body,” Angie said. “He won’t have his first shift until next month.”

“Good. We can hold off on telling him about the whole werewolf thing, then,” Stan said. Angie frowned at him.

“Stanley.”

“Ford’s gonna come back tonight,” Stan said. “I can’t handle him coming back and Dipper finding out.” Angie sighed. “Angie, please.”

“Fine,” Angie muttered. “Only because ya asked nicely. And…I agree. We should take things one at a time.” She smiled hesitantly at Stan. “It’ll be nice to have Ford around again. I won’t be there when he comes back; I’m gonna take the night to recuperate.” Stan nodded. “I’ll ask Soos to take Dipper and Mabel fer the night. And tomorrow morning, first thing…” Angie met Stan’s eyes. “We tell the kids the truth.”

-----

Stan paced anxiously in front of the portal.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. The moon rose while I was waiting for the portal to turn on. I can’t be a wolf right now! Emily, who was curled up in a corner, looked up at him. Molly had opted to stay home with Angie, but Emily wanted to come and meet Ford for the first time.

“Dad?” Emily barked. Stan stopped pacing.

“Yeah?”

“Why are ya so nervous?”

“I haven’t seen your uncle in a while, squirt. It’s- it’s gonna be a big moment.”

“Makes sense.” Emily rested her head between her paws. “I’m excited to meet him.” She froze. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Stan asked. Emily looked in the direction of the door.

“Someone’s comin’.”

“Damn old age,” Stan muttered. “I’m losin’ my edge.” He sniffed the air. “Son of a- Emily, block the elevator!”

“On it!” Emily bounded for the small room that led into the main area with the portal, but before she could reach it, the elevator door opened, revealing Dipper, Mabel, and Soos. Emily whined and stumbled back. “Shoot!”

“This is going from bad to worse,” Stan growled. Soos’ eyes widened at the sight of Emily and Stan. Soos was one of the few people outside the family who knew they were werewolves, and one of the fewer who regularly interacted with them in wolf form.

“It’s- it’s wolves,” Dipper stammered, pointing at Emily and Stan. “That- that one, that’s- that’s one of the ones from earlier.”

“The one that carried me,” Mabel said, looking directly at Emily. “You protected me!” Emily sat down, a prideful air about her.

“Why are the wolves here?” Dipper demanded. He flipped through Ford’s journal. “There’s- there’s nothing about wolves in here, just the machine! Why- why would they-” Dipper closed the journal. “No. Focus. We need to turn off the machine before the world gets destroyed.” Dipper took a step into the area with the portal. Stan growled loudly. Emily looked at him, surprised.

I don’t wanna scare the kid. God knows he’s gonna need a lot of support once he finds out he did get bitten by a werewolf. But I can’t let him screw up everything I’ve worked for. Soos put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“Maybe- maybe we shouldn’t mess with the wolves,” Soos suggested. “They seem pretty scary to me.”

“Why are they guarding this machine, though?” Dipper insisted. He took another step forward. Stan bared his teeth, his growl increasing in volume.

Back off, Dipper. You don’t understand what’s happening. Emily let out a small bark of warning. Stan looked over. She nodded at the countdown clock. Stan’s heart stopped. It was almost time.

3…2…1.

Everything went white and silent.

Stan felt himself rise up from the ground, only to slam back against it forcefully. He got to his feet wearily.

Everything hurts. The sound of a gun cocking broke the quiet. Stan froze. He could feel cold steel pressed against his forehead.

“Who- who is that?” Dipper asked in astonishment. Stan looked at the person holding a gun to his head, dreading who he would see.

Of course.

“Ford,” Stan started. Ford scowled more deeply.

“Don’t bother trying to threaten me, wolf. I’ve taken down monsters twice your size.”

What? Stan’s blood ran cold. Oh, fuck. I didn’t get turned until after Ford went through the portal. He doesn’t know I’m a werewolf. Still in a corner, but now standing in a defensive posture, Emily began to growl. Ford looked over at the noise.

“Angie?” Ford said quietly. “Did I- did I come back on a full moon?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mabel said, holding up her hands. “That wolf is Grauntie Angie?” Ford stared at Mabel, just noticing her.

“I- what?”

“How do you know Grauntie Angie?” Mabel demanded. Ford blinked.

“I don’t- who- who are you?” Ford stammered.

This is getting painful. But I can’t speak English right now. I can’t explain anything. Everyone’s gonna be confused until I can turn human again. Unless… Stan met Soos’ eyes. Soos nodded silently. He stepped forward.

“Actually, uh, Mr. Stranger, that’s not Angie. That’s Emily. Angie’s daughter,” Soos said. Dipper and Mabel stared at Soos in shock. Ford frowned.

“Who are you? Some kind of strange, hairless gopher?”

“Heh, I get that a lot. But nope. Normal human. I work for Mr. Pines, so I know his kids and his wife and stuff.” Soos rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “And you’re kinda shoving a gun in Mr. Pines’ face right now, just so you know.”

“I’m-” Ford stared at Stan. He gaped. “Stanley?” Stan grumbled softly. “Oh. I didn’t- I-” Ford’s face hardened. “No, I’ll leave my gun there.”

“Real mature, Sixer,” Stan growled.

“Wait, wait,” Mabel said, interrupting again. She looked at Stan. “That’s- that’s Grunkle Stan? And Emily? How?”

“They’re werewolves,” Ford said flatly. He frowned at Stan again. “Werewolves who should have thought better than to let children in here.”

“Werewolves?” Dipper whispered. Stan groaned.

Great. There goes the plan to break the news to him over breakfast.

“What the heck is going on?” Mabel shouted.

“That’s a question I’d like an answer to as well,” Ford said.

“I can’t really answer any of your questions right now, jackass,” Stan barked. Ford put away his gun, still scowling.

“We’ll need a translator. Do any of you know where Fiddleford McGucket is?”

“Right upstairs,” Dipper said. “This is his house.”

“No, it’s not. The deed is in my name, not his. Not that I have anything against Fiddleford living here, but-” Ford cut himself off. “That’s not relevant. He’s upstairs, we’ll head upstairs.” Ford began to walk toward the exit. Dipper stood in his path.

“Before we let you upstairs, tell us. Who are you?” Dipper asked. Ford straightened his back.

“My name is Stanford Pines. I’m Stan’s twin brother.”

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celxstialisms · 6 years ago

Text

Wrote a little drabble for Kyron. Putting it under the cut cause it’s a bit long

There were times when hiding his true nature was more of a hindrance than a good idea. Kyron kept himself detached from the world for the most part and was content to live his life, or rather unlife, protecting the living from foul necromancy and enjoying the company of his beloved and the small town that his tower was near. He had no wish to get involved in anything else and certainly not anything that involved Order knights and paladins. Kyron was a necromancer, what the texts of the Order and other such groups called a Grand Lich, not a selfless hero. Even his acts of fighting foul necromancy were done partly out of feeling insulted and offended that anyone would use arts he helped craft to harm the living. However, involved with the Order was just what he had gotten himself into.

Cornered was one way of putting Kyron's predicament. Protected by his powerful barrier, he watched the spellbound blades of the Order knight's bounce off yet again while he formulated a strategy. The necromancer would rather get away without killing any of the Order members if he could manage it. He could see the clerics that were standing away from the knights and the paladins leading the group while they prepared their spellwork. The kind of solar and celestial spells the Order favored were a bane to the undead as Kyron was aware and he could only assume they thought his barrier would crumble under their power.

“You're wasting your time,” Kyron said in an almost sing-song voice as another sword blow bounced off his barrier.

“Silence, monster!” the paladin with a winged crest on his helm barked in reply. “The blades of the knights are chipping away at your damned barrier as you waste what breath you have left. The purifying spells of the clerics will be more than enough to shatter it and destroy you.”

“Bold words for a man facing the King of the Dead.” They had not believed him the first time he used that title and Kyron doubted they would again. But getting a rise out of them was rather amusing.

“Your bluff won't work,” the paladin snapped, pointing his holy sword at the necromancer. “The King of the Dead is a myth. A boogieman your kind throw around to scare people. Well it won't work on me! I will see you destroyed and then use your remains to hunt down your followers!”

Kyron's violet eyes narrowed at the paladin's proclamation. “Is that so?” He knew the Order knew such tracking spells as to use his ashes to find where his home was. They would be able to find the small village that lived in the shadow of his great tower. Kyron also knew how ruthless the Order was. “...So you would slaughter a village of innocents just because I lived there?”

“There's no telling who else you've tainted with your foul practices!” The paladin raised a clenched fist as eyes hidden beneath his visor bored into Kyron. “For the sake of the purity of their spirits, I would gladly condemn their flesh to sacred destruction!”

The audacity of such a declaration almost took the wind out of Kyron's lungs. To think the Order's soldiers would so easily decide upon the destruction of innocent lives! More than that, Kyron had a vested interest in the people in that village, his village, that he had kept safe and secure for thousands of years. Any threat to them was something he took as possible the gravest insult and offense imaginable. He would visit his true wrath upon these men and women of the Order and they would know despair before they died.

“All right then, you overgrown worms.” Kyron's voice held a sudden venom as he snarled out the words. He dispelled his barrier and the force of the magic wall bursting sent the attacking knights tumbling head over heels across the dirt. “Give it your best.”

“Bring the celestials!” The paladin's order was prompt as was the sharp gesture given to the clerics. He had been waiting for his words to bite deep enough to make Kyron drop his powerful barrier. In his experience all necromancers eventually gave in to wounded pride and one so boastful making the same error made the paladin grin broadly.

The clerics raise their hands and released the glittering golden orbs they held into the sky, five in total. Each one swirled and turned on and around itself, moving faster and faster with each swirl. The movements created gilded patterns in the air that soon took proper shape as odd silhouettes. In a flash of golden light that momentarily blinded Kyron as he looked on, floating figures appeared. Each had multiple pairs of wings and four heads that each depicted a different animal. Their bodies were clad in shimmering robes that reflected the light of stars and their hands held glittering, gilded weapons.

“Oh...what?” Kyron's brow furrowed as he scrutinized the summoned beings momentarily. His eyes widened as each of the five celestials raised their weapons to simultaneously cast a powerful spell.

Five beams of sunlight lanced forth and converged to a single point before launching a single blast that enveloped Kyron in a conflagration of solar energy. The resulting flash of radiant light was all but blinding and kicked up a cloud of dust from the sandy ground. The Order knights all tensed, however, at the sight their quarry still standing and unharmed save for a few superficial burns.

“You know,” Kyron said as he patted dust from his clothes, “contrary to popular belief, combining a series of mid-tier spells does not actually create a higher-tier one. So when I said 'give it your best' I meant give it your damn best!”

A wave of Kyron's hand, glittering blades of green and black slashed through the summoned celestials. Two were slain outright and crashed down in pieces before dissolving into motes of golden light. The other three charged through the air, weapons at the ready and intent on dismembering the necromancer. Kyron was finally forced to move from his spot to evade the soaring blows of the gleaming maces the celestials wielded with inhuman might.

The celestials were faster than Kyron had anticipated and it was only just barely that he managed to dance out of the way of the deadly blows. But it was not something he could keep up forever, that was certain. It was nailed home in a very direct way when he moved away from one mace swing only to be faced with another celestial suddenly armed with a long, gleaming blade instead that the summoned being shoved through Kyron's chest. His eyes went wide and he froze in place, mouth opening slightly as he looked down to where the sword was buried in his chest to the hilt.

The paladin smirked beneath his helmet and turned to speak to one of the clerics. “To think this fool actually made me worry for a moment.”

“Paladin Brandt! Look!” There was a shocked tone in the knight's voice that made Brandt turn his gaze back to where Kyron was and he felt his mouth go dry.

The celestial that had stabbed Kyron was dissolving into a mess of decaying pseudo-flesh and necrotic ooze that dissolved the moment it touched the ground. Kyron stood tall still, the hole in his chest knitting itself together, and had a steel in his gaze that had been absent before. The knights, brave men each of them, were starting to falter. One took a step back only to have Kyron standing right before him in the wake of the sharp sound of air tearing. His hand came to rest on the man's breastplate as his violet eyes regarded the man with a gaze suddenly devoid of any warmth or mercy. “Now I wonder,” Kyron said, eyes flitting to Brandt, “how does this story end for you?”

But there were still two other celestials in play and refused to be idle now that Kyron was still moving. The pair rushed through the air, weapons ready to swing, but only made a few feet before crashing down to the ground after lances of green light punched through them. The whining of a spell reached him and the necromancer grabbed the knight before him and spun him into the path of the solar ray unleashed by the blessed sword Brandt wielded. The knight screamed in agony as he was cooked inside his armor, the steel growing white hot and searing the flesh of Kyron's hands until it began to melt from the very bone.

The roasted corpse ended up tossed at one of the other knights as they charged in with panicked shouts. One cleaved through Kyron's chest at the shoulder only to have the necromancer's bony hand tear the helmet from his head and rip the lower jaw from his face in a shower of blood and teeth. Kyron would ensure that these fanatics understood true fear before they all died, the kind of fear he saw in the knight's eyes as he passed from the living world. He spun toward the next man and from Kyron's form was released a terrible shriek like that of a banshee. The knight froze as all life was stolen from him in an instant, giving Kyron a moment to pierce his skeletal hand through the breastplate of another foe and crush his heart within his chest.

“The wrath of the Sun be upon you! Burn in his righteous light! To ashes, you monster!”

The clerics spoke as one and called down a pillar of light upon Kyron's bloodied form. The flesh burned from his body and the sensation of it all, the odd tingling he felt, was distantly familiar. Yes it was the half-forgotten sensation of pain! The heat he was feeling from the blast was enough to make him chuckle darkly and decide then and there to show Brandt and his fanatics the folly of pursuing an unknown target.

Brandt's satisfied grin faltered as a sickly green light glowed from within the pillar of solar energy. The clerics began murmuring and several screamed as the necrotic energy consumed the solar spell in a blast that knocked several men off their feet. The trees in the immediate area withered away to husks as the life was drained from them along with all the other plants in the clearing. A skeletal form, tall and encased in archaic armor, stood at the epicenter of the green blast. Death lights burned in his empty eye sockets and a spiky crown rested atop his head. The sight of it made Brandt's blood run cold as what he took to be a silly myth stood before him plain as day.

“I had made an agreement with Lord Paladin Alexander,” the King of the Dead spoke as he raised a hand full of pulsing green energy, “that while our goals coincided, I and the Order would avoid each other. But it seems fanatics like you, Brandt, will always be there to disregard sensible choices like leaving a lone mage traveling on the road alone. At the very least the deaths of your men will be painless. And instantaneous.”

Kyron crushed the pulsing orb held in his hand, releasing a series of wisps that flowed through each of the clerics and caused them to drop dead on the spot. Brandt, all color drained from his face beneath his helmet, looked around at the sudden collection of corpses and jumped back a few paces when the shadow of the man now revealed as a Lich loomed over him. “This is ridiculous!” he said, voice quivering in desperate fear as he tried to hold his blade steady before him. “It's an illusion! The Grand Liches are just stories! Fables to tell recruits about the dangers of arrogantly playing with life and death!”

“Well good to know my story is being put to some practical use. I'll have to thank Alexander the next time I see him.” Kyron's cold gaze regarded the paladin before him with a kind of disgusted rage. He knocked the man's sword from his grasp and grabbed by the neck to lift him off his feet. “But you, Brandt, are truly worthless. Little better than a small, opportunistic predator preying upon the weak to bolster your position. A mongrel of a lesser being that I am going to enjoy pulling apart thread by precious thread of life. And that will be the greatest thing to accomplish in your life.”

Brandt's armored hands scrabbled at Kyron's skeletal wrist, the lich's grip tight enough to keep the words from coming from his throat as he tried to break the inhuman strength holding him. He writhed desperately as Kyron snatched the helmet from the man's head to see his sweat covered face and the true fear in his eyes. Kyron took no relish in the suffering of his enemies but for Brandt he was willing to make an exception rarely given. The man had threatened people truly precious to the King of the Dead and the price of such an offense was high.

“I'm going to kill you now,” Kyron said, “slowly. Then again. And again. And again. Over and over until I grow bored. And there will be no sweet final release for you. Once your body is useless even as a shell for your spirit I will rip your soul asunder and consign you to oblivion. The King of the Dead denies you your right for Final Rest. Let's begin.”

His grip tightened until the wet snapping crunch of bone resounded and Brandt's body went limp for the first time.

#;Lumeria Tales [Drabbles]#Kyron.Drabble

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ofnarcissablack · 6 years ago

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family portrait.

Narcissa’s steps were near-silent as they turned down a street that she hadn’t seen since she was seventeen years old. Back then, she had stood indecisively on the corner of it and wondered whether she could conceivably betray her family to see her older sister just one more time, the address memorised from the letter that she had immediately burned in the fireplace before anyone could see it. At the time, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Now, though, there was no hesitation in the way that she moved. There was a significant difference between the girl who had stood there years ago, torn by indecision, and the woman who walked directly towards the deep blue of the front door bearing the number 76 in polished brass letters. It was so very ordinary from the outside that it gave Narcissa a few seconds’ pause. It was mid-evening, and the last remnants of grey light were fading fast from the sky, a chilly tinge to April as the daylight disappeared. It meant that the cloak and hood drawn up against the threat of rain were nothing out of the ordinary to anyone passing by and hid the telling shade of Narcissa’s hair from sight.

There was no question of whether Andromeda Tonks would be home or not. Her days, unlike Narcissa’s, had a comfortable routine where she was able to come home to her husband, speak to her child whenever she wished. Raising her hand, Narcissa knocked softly on the door before she could rethink what she was about to do. If she had been someone else, there might have been a pang of guilt, but if this was what it took to keep Edward and Rodolphus safe? She would do it. She would betray everything that she had been taught if she had to, because all of it was meaningless without them.

When the door opened inward, Narcissa took a breath, because the last willing contact that she’d had with Andromeda had been an ordinary night in the Black household, where she’d had no idea that everything was about to change for good. For a few long seconds, the two sisters regarded each other warily. “Cissa?”

There could not have been a more painful way that her sister could have addressed her. Instinctively, part of her wanted to lash out with you don’t get to call me that any more, but she stopped herself. “It’s me,” she confirmed softly. “If you want proof, you hid your letters under a loose floorboard by the fireplace in our room so that Bella wouldn’t find them if she got curious.” Because concealment charms would have been no problem for Bella to solve if she really felt like it, but something as commonplace as hiding letters under a loose floorboard wouldn’t even have occurred to her, because it didn’t involve magic. That Narcissa had been aware of the secret was something that she hadn’t revealed until now, but the way that Andromeda’s eyebrows lifted told her immediately that she was convinced. The part that came next was the hard part. “I know that I don’t have any right to ask this, but can we talk?”

For a moment, the question hung there between them, and Andromeda looked at her and sighed. It was a sigh that Narcissa knew all too well, a trait that both Andromeda and Bella shared when they looked at her and were about to cave in to what she was asking. It told her a great deal in just a few seconds. Though years had separated them, the use of her old nickname and the letters that Andromeda had sent in between told Narcissa that her older sister hadn’t been capable of fully letting go. It was something that she could use if she needed to. “Come in.” As her sister stood to one side, Narcissa stepped through the door and waited until she was led through to the kitchen, seemingly where Andromeda had been beforehand. The cup of tea on the table spoke to as much, and without a word her sister went to acquire a second cup and poured another from the teapot, setting it in front of Narcissa once she sat at the kitchen table. It caused another wave of nostalgia, a painful one, because she didn’t want to admit that the habit had been acquired from their conversations together in the past, quieter than when Bella was there too. “How have you been?” The question felt inane for Narcissa to ask, and it was there in Andromeda’s lifted eyebrow in response. “Did you really come all this way to make small talk, Cissa?”

Blue eyes narrowed a little. “I don’t know where to begin, so it’s as good a place as any. It’s been…”

“A long time.” Andromeda finished the sentence for her when she hesitated; neither of them, it seemed, wanted to count the precise number of years that had divided them. A moment later, there was another question, but this time it came from Andromeda. “You had a son.” From anyone else, it would have been a neutral observation. Narcissa after a moment let the warmth she felt whenever Edward was mentioned show in her gaze. “I did. You had a daughter.” It was strange, seeing the same pride and warmth reflected in her sister’s face. “I did.” For a moment, the silence stretched out between them, and Narcissa exhaled slowly. “I owe you an apology.” It might have been the most difficult five words she’d ever uttered, swallowing her pride back where it belonged, because she still hadn’t fully forgiven Andromeda. But for this, she had to. Judging by how floored Andromeda looked, she hadn’t been expecting anything close to this. “I didn’t understand how you could leave. I didn’t understand what it meant to have people that you would give up everything that you are for.” Pressing her lips together, she looked down at her hands for a few seconds. “I understand it now.” It had taken years for her to comprehend it, years in which her husband had been sent to Azkaban, years of raising Edward alone and realising that she would destroy anyone who tried to take him from her too.

Narcissa could feel the depth of Andromeda’s scrutiny, raised her eyes to regard her. She’d aged incredibly gracefully, a blessing that seemed afforded to the Black family regardless of their circumstances. She and Bella had always been similar in colouring, enough that they could be mistaken for one another at a distance, but Andromeda’s features were gentler, softer in ways that their elder sister lacked, hair not quite as dark. Her words, however, were perceptive. “I didn’t think you would ever speak to me again. What made you change your mind?”

Narcissa didn’t flinch. “Because family should always have been my priority. You know what has been happening. Don’t pretend that you don’t.” One thing that had changed in the years since Andromeda left was that she’d learned to detect when she was being lied to far better, because she’d learned to expect it even from some of those she cherished most. Andromeda had been responsible for that particularly painful lesson all by herself, and she rather thought her sister knew it. “You know the signs. Suspicious silences from the Ministry. Rumours making the rounds. People disappearing.” Reaching out for the cup, Narcissa took a sip of tea, as though it could alter what she was about to say next. “It’s exactly like it was before, and there’s a piece of news that I’m aware of that you may not be.” Pausing, she took a moment to consider her approach before she made it. “There has been a break-out from Azkaban. Multiple prisoners have escaped.” Without waiting for Andromeda’s reaction, she continued, deliberately relentless, “Rodolphus was one of them.” Holding her sister’s gaze, Narcissa’s words were soft, but the intent behind them held steel. “I am not going to lose my husband again. I am not going to risk my son.”

It took Andromeda no time at all to grasp the situation. “You want my help. That’s why you’re here.” She shook her head. “It’s not about you and me at all, is it?”

Narcissa once again didn’t hesitate. “Isn’t it?” She folded her hands in front of her. “Didn’t I lose you too because you chose to be on the other side of what our family believed in? Do you really think I wanted that?” For a few moments, there was a glimpse of a much younger Narcissa and a much younger Andromeda, facing each other across a table as though nothing had changed, when everything had. It took Andromeda a moment to answer. “I chose Ted, not a cause.”

She had her reply ready. “I’m choosing Rodolphus and Edward. You of all people should understand that.” She’d barely touched her tea. “What I want, and what Rodolphus wants, is to keep Edward safe. Whatever we have to do to ensure that, we will do.” It went against every principle that she had been raised with, every reason that Rodolphus had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, every structure of pureblood society.

But if they had to play both sides in order to survive? They’d do it.

“We want a meeting with the Order.” She could almost see the denial forming on Andromeda’s lips, stopped it before it came. “Think very carefully before you lie to me.” The warning was apparently well-placed. “Your daughter, she’s with the Order, even if you insist on appearing neutral. Ask her to get a message through. We’d like to negotiate terms.” Not terms of surrender, but terms of survival.

The rest of the conversation was a quiet thing, details being passed back and forth, but Narcissa left with what she came for.

#( family portrait ).#( self para ).

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[FN] The Fury Boy

Crashing down, came the young boy, his face pressed into the bright green grass, from the hand clasped firmly on back of his neck. The hand of the biggest and of the most esteemed hunters in the entire village, his shoulders and biceps were well defined in the hot yellow glow of the sun, exposed by his raggedy grey singlet. The heel of his boot was pressed firmly into the grass, leaving his print where dirt was exposed. His face, unlike the boy's was covered by white, dirty bandages, that were tightened in a knot, by the base of his neck, the excess just dangling loosely over his shoulders. They covered his face and mouth, exposing only some of his long brown hair and shallow hazel eyes. “You need more practice boy” said the man, as he released the boy's neck, and pulled him to his feet.

“Master, it isn't fair, I didn't last a second” said the boy, brushing down his black trainee jumpsuit, and rolling his neck around to ease the pain.

“Next time you might even make that” said the man, turning away from him. “Next!” he called out. Just outside the small circle they were stood in was a line of boys, each waiting their turn to battle the giant. As the first boy stepped over the rope, outlining the arena, so the next boy may step in.

“I've gotten better since last time master!” the next boy exclaimed.

“If you are as good as an elite I will let you know” he responded plainly. “How long did it take for you to become an elite?” the boy asked.

“I wouldn't worry about it, come now” he waved the boy over with one hand, ordering him to attack.

Just behind them a slender figure approached, he crossed his arms, and smiled under his mask as he watched their fight begin. The boy wasted no time running in, raising his left hand to swing it hard, but before he was even close to landing a strike, the trainer slapped the fist away and then pushed the boy over with just one shove. “I definitely wouldn't worry about that right now” he huffed.

“Sàid, I might say you're being a little too rough with the trainees?” called the onlooker. Sàid quickly turned around “My Prince” he said with a bow. The only son of King Aldra hadn't grown much taller in the last ten years, nor did his muscle mass expand a great deal. Sàid still towered over him as he always had. He still retained the old hunters jump suit, its tight fitting fabric detailing every edge of his body, as well as his sweaty patches around his neck and arm pits. His hands were small, soft and slightly pink. At this time the Prince carried no weapons, nor did he even have a belt on to hold any. The only thing he wore besides his jumpsuit, mask and boots was the Clayton steel chain he carried across his body that rattled with every step he took towards Sàid.

“It is my belief that students need a hard lesson in their training” Sàid explained.

“Surely at some point you're being unfair?” asked Prince.

“Not if they strive to be half as strong as you Prince” said Sàid. Prince laughed silently to himself. “Why not strive to be half as strong as you? Some might say you don't give yourself enough credit old friend”

“You give me too much”

“Perhaps a quick spar will liven this lot up?” Sàid's eyes lit up, the only person he was ever nervous to fight was a member of royalty. Sàid was of course a bound servant of the King. It was his duty to protect and serve the bloodline, tradition forbid harming one you serve.

“If that is what you think is best” said Sàid as he prepared his fighting position, kicking one leg back and rooting himself in a solid and steady position. As his back foot crashed down dust gathered around his feet and the earth broke under him. Unlike when the kids had a shot at him, Sàid was well prepared, and he knew he needed to be. The prince raised both hands and separated his legs, his stance was well balanced, and light on his feet. He couldn't match the strength of the Blackhahl's elite, so he had to beat him with a style that was far more technical and agile.

Sàid's shoulder rolled back slightly, before he launched himself forward, turning his body into a strike so colossal the air left a steamy trail behind. Non of the boys saw how quickly he moved, it was as if Sàid just teleported forward with his fist extended. An attack like this was not too fast for the keen eye of Prince Jackal, who had stepped aside and was already moving in for multiple counter attacks. The students all sighed a collective gasp as Sàid recovered, planting his foot in front of him to steady his stride. Prince was quick to land three body shots into Sàid's gut, before he had a chance to respond with a big sweep of his arm and a pivot on his back foot. The pressure from the swing was so great it picked up a gust of air throwing dust into the faces of the onlookers. However big the attack was, Prince was still to fast to be hit, managing to step out of the way, but he was now on the edge of the circle. Sàid ran in now, reaching for his old friend, but it was very hesitant, and so Prince was able to jump up, planting his left foot on Sàid's arm and pushing off of it to kick him in the chin with such tremendous force as to knock the giant back a couple steps. “Get serious!” Prince screamed, frustrated. Sàid grit his teeth under the bandages that covered his mouth, he was indeed holding back, deliberately attacking in ways that would be easy for Prince to respond. Prince charged in for another attack while his opponent was staggered, quickly Sàid, lowered his shoulder and bounced off the ground ramming Prince with all his body weight, he then grabbed him by the ankle, which crumbled under his fist into a pile of hot ashes, as did the rest of his body, down to even the Clayton steel chain. At first he was startled, until Prince reappeared beside Sàid punching him in the face, causing a bandage to slip out of the way slightly, revealing his teeth. Sàid tried to bounce back, but again Prince's body had disappeared leaving behind another cracked husk. Again, the Prince came down on Sàid, striking him, and heat blinking into another angle of attack. It happened repeatedly, and each hit would make Sàid that little bit angrier, his veins started to bulge and something began to radiate out of him, gusts of wind began to pick up outward from him and all the boys had to take a step back to balance themselves. Sàid frantically attempted to swipe Prince away, but each time he would just appear in a different angle. Now fed up with this embarrassing assault in front of all his students, he screamed angrily, and as he done so a ripple of energy burst from his body, picking up dirt and grass around him and launching the boys back a few feet. The people at the other fighting circles all were affected by the same ripple, and the ground cracked for many meters out of Sàid's arena. Prince fell out of the ring, onto his butt, dirt particles raining down around him. All eyes were on Sàid, everyone who was nearby had stopped what they were doing. Fellow elite Markus who was nearby began to approach, the metal plates strapped to his arms and shoulders clanking together the whole way over. The field became quiet, everyone was aware of Sàid's power, it made them shudder, and whisper to one another, saying how he had no control, and that his power was too dangerous to allow him to retain his position. Sàid huffed, he didn't have the patience to think about what everyone was saying about him. He didn't respond to these claims made against him, he just turned around and walked away from the circle. His hammer was on the ground next to where the fighting circle once was as he walked past he launched another burst of powerful energy which made everyone jump in their skin on impact, like they were woken up from a deep sleep by a nearby bolt of lightning. The wave came from the palm of his hand which struck the weapon and bounced it up which he caught in the same hand. Suw came up behind the Prince, helping him to his feet.

“Still with the temper” she scolded. She was a little taller than Prince, a former leader of the Fury pride, now a devout follower of the Blackhahl King. All Furies were expected to wear a mask as the rest of the tribe did, but they did not do away with their white headbands, Suw loosely wore hers around her neck in a messy knot.

“I'm just trying to get him passionate about something” said Prince.

“Best just to let him do his job in peace if you ask me” said Suw.

“You don't understand how he feels, the poor guy feels very lost at the moment”

“I'm sure a man with that status feels so much worse than us who don't” Suw insisted, with very obvious sarcasm. The rattle of Markus' armour began to get louder.

“Did you guys feel that?” said Markus flabbergasted.

“Sàid's still not mastered his powers” said Prince “He isn't even really making an attempt to”

“Yeah, but did you feel that crazy gust of wind before?” said Markus wide eyed. Suw and Prince looked at Markus blankly.

“The King has called for you by the way” said Suw “I think he want's to talk about the Rebels, I can take over the training for now” Prince didn't like the emphasis she placed on the word 'king' when addressing his father, it seemed like Furies on mass even after a whole cycle were still uneasy about following a Hahl. They were all Blackhahls now though, the combined strength of all the tribes, they were suppose to be a united force now.

“I'll go see him, thanks” said Prince who smiled with his eyes. Suw smiled back, she like everyone was always very friendly towards the Prince. Prince patted Markus on the shoulder, before they left together. Suw looked at all the boys who were still startled by their trainers immense power. “Alright line up!” she shouted

The elites all gathered in the Halls of the King's throne room. It was a long wooden room in the heart of the village. One had to climb a set of stone stairs to reach the structure. The front was heavily guarded all hours of the day and night. It took a long time to build all this, when it was an unfinished building, and may never be, Aldra spend many man hours and a great deal of fortune finding the best wood often scavenged from the riverlands and the best craftsman to build a structure that continued to get bigger. Despite its current state It was the most immaculate building In the village and became the main base of operations for the King and his elite Hunters. Within the halls of the throne room sacred Clayton weapons without owners were also held here displayed on the walls. On your way in you would find Torb's Axe hanging off the wall to your left, and opposite to it was the two halves of the Sky Cleaver, formerly carried by the Chief of the Furies, a little further down was a large piece of armour, intended to be mounted on the shoulder. It's was made up of several steel plates riveted together that curved around the arm and shoulder, and Across from this were the Darhk and Lightning blade, mounted together. It was said that every now and then voices could be heard coming from the Darhk blade, and the static from the Lightning blade would quickly hush it. Above the throne was the most valuable weapon of the entire bunch, The Preating Scythe. The very weapon that was used to defeat Preature by the King, a great hard fought battle that ruined his very body. King Aldra was an old man, long since past his days of wearing a mast, with long silver hair, grey eyes and black hands. One of his legs was crippled beyond repair, and so he needed assistance from one of his servants Durmit, who was stood beside the King at all times. When Prince and Markus entered the building, Felix was already present standing before the throne. He was still the flag bearer, carrying the white flag bearing the image of a single chain loop attached to four others. He quickly turned to meet with his friends, he waved his hands quickly to tell them both they were late. Markus began to sign back, but Prince placed his palm on Markus' hands, for the King didn't understand signs, nor was he able to perform them with those hands.

“Father” Prince started “I don't think Sàid will be joining us”

“No real loss there” King Aldra shrugged “We will wait for Ilana however, if he shows up fine, if he doesn't, he doesn't” Prince hesitated for a moment, thinking of the best thing to say next. “Father I wish to confide in my fellow elites for a moment” he said finally.

“Be quick” said King Aldra, waving his black hand gently. Prince bowed, before walking to the far side of the room by the entrance, Markus and Felix quickly followed.

“He wants to talk about the Rebel's doesn't he?” asked Markus Felix quickly weaved a few hand signs, explaining the recent reports have been more frequent.

“Right now it's just vandalism of Dahrk and Hahl artefacts and memorabilia” said Prince “It could just be some kids” “I'm great with kids!” said Markus

“Not kids” Felix signed “Adult men and women, Furies” *Felix is a mute, so he signs. Read book one nerds*

“Last thing we need right now is to tell the mass populous that Furies are causing these problems, do you have any idea the effect that would have on our culture?” Prince argued “And after it took this long for them to be as accepted as they are”

“We have a Fury elite!” said Markus “That should tell the whole village that Furies are equal”

“One Fury, Two Dahrk, Three Hahl.” Felix signed “Not enough.”

“It's hardly the fault of the royals that the best warriors of the tribe right now aren't Furies, and I can't just name two more for the sake of it!” Prince explained. “We don't even know how serious the vandals are yet”

“Rebels” Felix corrected.

“I sure don't want a Rebellion” said Markus saddened. “We worked so hard to build this village, I'd hate to lose it” “Solution- resources” Felix began.

“I don't control where we build markets, education or medical centres” said Prince “and it takes a long time to transform an area like theirs into sometime much nicer, they need something more immediate right now” At that very moment, the latch on the front entrance popped, and the big ebony doors swung open. The light entered the room quickly, where the front door of the building was positioned, the sun set perfectly in line with the throne and the entrance. Inside came a masked man of average height. He wore a short sleeved V-neck shirt, his pants were long, black and tucked into his tall black boots. His hands were bandaged up to his elbows and on his lower back he carried a mass of weapons. Two short swords, and thirteen throwing knives to be exact. All contained within a weighted training belt his grandfather had made him wear when he was first training. The six metal clamps on the front required a key to unlock, a key he would leave at home when he put it on every day. All his weapons well managed, sharp and clean. Tied to his exposed bicep was the white headband of a Fury. Beside him was a woman, the only female elite in all history. She was slightly shorter than him, yet she was still powerfully athletic. She like every other hunters wore the mask of the Hahl, her pants were straight cut, ash black, made from a soft material, tucked into her boots. Down her leg were two leather straps holding knives. Her shirt was loose fitted green top and over it she wore a leather vest, which clasped together across her front, and a little shoulder guard attached to it. Strapped just behind her left shoulder was a leather scabbard, signed by the lady Nataya who worked leathers on the outskirts of town. The scabbard perfectly fit the fabled Leaf Blade, former weapon of the king. Off its handle, dangled the white headband of a Fury. The King's expression lit up, overjoyed to see his apprentice again.

“Ilana! We waited for you” King Aldra called out. Prince and Shakko linked hands to greet as Ilana quickly walked up to the throne, pulling her mask above her lips so she may lean in to kiss the King on his cheek. Both his hands shook as he raised them to her. Nobody else, but Prince and Durmit could touch the King, and they still required permission first. Felix and Shakko nodded to one another, but Markus hugged him firmly, laughing. Shakko also giggled.

“Gather round, the king will speak now!” Durmit shouted to the far end of the room. The group gathered around him in a straight line, the order from left to right being Ilana, Shakko, Prince, Markus, Felix and then Durmit. They all waited patiently for him to begin talking.

“Well give me an update, how are things around town?” King Aldra asked. The elites all looked at one another confused. “Were we not talking about the Vandals father?” Prince asked. Felix Signed to correct. “Pfft, just some kids. I'm sure they just need a firm talking to and they will stop” said Aldra. Felix looked at Prince, he was expecting him to press harder after the conversation they just had. Prince swallowed hard. “Reports say the vandalism is only occurring to Hahl and Dahrk memorabilia...” he began, but was quickly cut off.

“Just an attempt to throw Furies under again, they could be targeted attacks, but there are people in the village, of all tribes who don't care for tradition. Just look to the calls to abolish the mask” Shakko interrupted “If I'm not mistaken in his early days the King himself didn't like wearing it”

“Watch it Fury” said Durmit “The King has been very clear on how he feels about the mask since taking the throne, an opinion he wouldn't hold lightly had it not been made mandatory even for Fury hunters” Felix tried again to sign, but was not noticed.

“Oh please, the rules are as they have been for a long time that the mask is never to be removed at anytime unless in the company of relatives and even then must be in ones own home” said Felix. “Even the most devout of followers going as far back as the Dahrk Village broke this rule regularly”

“Would Furies commit crimes for something this trival?” asked the King.

“It would seem so” said Durmit.

“A mask is merely one thing among so many other issues that have arisen in our community, this is not what a chief of our once free people would want” Felix stepped forward, frustrated he wouldn't be heard, Markus stepped beside him quickly to translate.

“Felix says there have been numerous sighting of adult Furies breaking Hahl dedicated statues, masks have been stolen and later found destroyed leaving specifically Hahl and Dahrk hunters from being able to leave their homes until another one is made for them, or they find an alternative to covering their face” said Markus “Wow they did all that?” he asked shocked.

“Have they killed anyone?” asked Shakko.

“Felix says no” said Markus.

“Have they attempted to kill anyone?” asked Shakko

“Felix says no”

“My people have problems, my people want change, my people are not rebelling” said Shakko, dismissing the mute. Ilana placed her hand on Shakko's shoulder, insisting he let her speak for him “What Shakko is trying to say is that these crimes are petty and no reason to persecute all Furies” Ilana explained. “I request we not make public enemies out of Furies, or even mention any Fury involvement at all” Suddenly the door creaked once more, and Sàid entered the building, his footsteps echoing throughout the halls, leaving the door open behind him. King Aldra scowled.

“Durmit get the door” the King ordered. Durmit nodded and quickly ran over, brushing past Sàid on his way. Sàid took his place on the right side of the line, beside Felix. Prince had hoped he wouldn't show up, he was a close friend, but he would only make things more tense. Shakko blew hot air from his nostrils seeing his fellow elite arrive, but Sàid only stood tall facing his king.

“Do we think this will negatively impact how Furies are seen if word gets out?” asked King Aldra.

“If you're worried, then I have a potential short term solution that could help both our image in the eyes of all Blackhahls, but also inspire more Furies” Shakko started.

“And what would that be?” Aldra asked.

“Again, this is a short term solution, but it will help my people more than you think, I have two names of Furies who will be good candidates to become Elites, they are both sufficiently skilled” said Shakko. “Who?” asked the king. “Suw, and Vektor” said Shakko.

“Hardly Elite material” Sàid huffed.

“Compared to you they do fine” said Shakko, looking down on the giant.

“Come on Sàid it's not like we couldn't use the extra hand” Ilana pressed.

“It's not an elite team if we let the whole tribe join, in your attempt to make your people feel better, you will piss off mine” Sàid argued.

“Guys please” said Prince, trying his best to suppress the argument.

“My Prince and King, with all due respect we shouldn't put second rate hunters into our advanced team simply because a small group of people complain that they are unfairly represented when they quite frankly have all the same opportunity as the rest of us!” Sàid began to raise his voice, without even looking vaguely in Shakko's direction.

“If the Furies need help to fix their problems then they are simply not motivated enough to do it on their own, and therefore do not deserve the privilage granted to the rest of us, who work hard every day, and reach a position as prestigious as ours” Shakko scrunched his face, becoming more and more frustrated “My people are not second rate, don't you dare suggest they are, my people were on Preature's back all the same as yours!”

“Don't you talk to me about the Preature, the one's who had the right to climb that beast were the strongest, and only a Hahl leader returned, that's why we made him king” said Sàid plainly.

“Wow-” said Shakko, grinning in disbelief “Disrespecting the sacrifice of my grandfather aside, I never thought I would see you come to terms with not being one of these selected strong people, you think so highly of” said Shakko.

Sàid shook his head “You're deflecting now, what happened in the past happened”

Ilana grabbed Shakko's hand to restrain him a moment longer “Sàid consider this, you of all people should understand the value of hard work” she said “Suw and Vektor have worked very hard, and Suw was even temporary leader, she's older than all of us, Chief Butch loved her like a daughter, and was a gigantic help in building the village to what it is now!”

“If she's so special she would have been named Elite a long time ago” said Sàid, his tone was cold, and expressed no feeling. Shakko couldn't hold back a moment longer, he broke from the line and approached Sàid with both fists clenched. Sàid didn't react, but Felix did, stepping in Shakko's way.

“How ironic that the peace preaching Fury is the one to rush to violence first” Sàid laughed.

“Don't act so smug” Shakko started.

Ilana quickly grabbed Shakko's and pulled him back “Don't” she said firmly. Markus pulled Felix back as well, “Things are getting a little tense guys!” said Markus with restrained fear. Everyone returned to their place in line.

“This has been constructive for me” said King Aldra, scratching his chin. “Begone” he ordered.

“What?” asked Shakko, baffled.

“I am weary” said King Aldra.

“This is a serious problem!” Shakko shouted. “My people can't even get a loaf of bread without having to travel to the far sides of the village, and that's without mentioning that the markets that sell supplies furies need are charged at higher prices for less!”

“Oh blasphemy” the king shouted back. “Furies, kids or whoever breaking things is no reason for me to do anything, just find who is doing it and punish them accordingly” Shakko threw his arms up, shaking his head. He turned and left the building as quickly as he could, a moment later Ilana followed him. Durmit then helped King Aldra to stand, and escorted him into the back room. Prince turned to Felix “Sorry...” he started, but Felix just signed quickly and halfhearted before leaving himself.

“Felix says you didn't say anything...” said Markus.

“I know what he said...” Markus quickly left, his armour and weapons rattling the whole way through the front door. “Prince, would you like me to walk you home?” asked Sàid.

“Sure, lets do that” said Prince.

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