#major injury

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 10 “You said you’d never leave.” | No. 13 “I don’t feel so good.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria (Saviors War)

Warnings: Illness, Descriptions of injury

It had taken you all day to get ready. The war with the Saviors was coming and you, as well as everyone else, were prepared to end it. Rick had a plan, one you knew your partner wasn’t willing to follow. Still, you had tried to reason with him. 

He wasn’t okay after what he had been through. He was lost in his lust for revenge. He wouldn’t let you be there for him, pushed you away harder than you were willing to allow. You were trying to pick up his broken pieces and cradle them until you could help him put them all back together. But he had slapped them from your grasp with venomous outbursts before cold silence. 

He was your everything. He was hurting in a way he hadn’t since he was a child, and no one could reach him. Not even you. You knew you’d be there when he was ready, but you were done begging. If the both of you lived through this, you’d catch him when he fell. There was no sense telling yourself otherwise.

Right now, though, you were angry. You were angry and you were tired. And it was time to end this and give Daryl the peace he needed to heal. You would do this for him. You would single-handedly raze your way through each and every Saviour to get your hands around Negan’s throat and rip it out. For Daryl. 

You threw your pack onto your shoulder, packed full of supplies that you never normally carried but still not as heavy as your heart. With a glance around your home, the one you had hoped to share with your archer when he was back, you were ready and you opened the door. 

Daryl was there. He was standing on the porch with his back against the support post, nervously tapping his fingers against the wood. His head immediately snapped up, your eyes locking. 

“Y/N.” It came out as an almost whimper. There was more on the tip of his tongue, his mouth moving but no sound emerging. You remained stoic as he began to approach you, a slight wobble to his gait. When his arms encircled your shoulders, your anger couldn’t withstand the tremble you felt in his embrace. 

The bag slipped from your shoulder to fall heavily to the floor just inside the doorway, your own arms weaving around his middle. When your small hands splayed open on his back, you could feel the heat radiating beneath his shirt. 

“Daryl?” You tried to pull away, just enough to look at him, but he wouldn’t allow it. If anything, he held tighter. 

“Ya said ya’d never leave.” God, he sounded tired. Resigned, even. Your heart shattered. Had you really given him that impression? With careful steps, you led him over the threshold without separating, grateful that the action hadn’t spurred him into retreating. 

Using your foot, your bag was pushed aside and the door closed. You carefully released him and gripped his forearms to encourage him to do the same for you. He let you without a fight. During the process, his expression was pained, as if you were denying him the comfort he was finally seeking. 

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.” Slender fingers still loosely held his arms and guided him to sit on the couch. The coffee table became your perch. With the looming war all but forgotten, you needed to get a good look at Daryl. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken in days but you’d received reports that your friends had seen him during all hours of the day and night. He wasn’t sleeping. If the intel hadn’t confirmed that, the discolored circles under his eyes would have. There was a sickly pallid to his skin under the thin sheen of sweat. The archer continued to tremble, the damp strands of hair covering his fever-flushed face seemed to vibrate. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Your voice remained steady, though you felt anything but inside. 

“Yer pissed… gon’ leave me.” He was slurring, his gaze almost vacant. “Ya are, aren’tcha?” His brow furrowed, dull blue eyes searching for a moment before finally locating your worried ones. 

“Pissed? Or leaving?” You could answer both with certainty, but keeping him distracted allowed you to brush back his hair and press a palm to his forehead. Definitely feverish. 

“Gon’ kill ‘em. Me an’ Tara, we got us a plan.” The bowman carried on like you hadn’t even spoken. “Gon’ kill ‘em all.”

“We’ve talked about your plan, Daryl.” The attempts to coax his eyes back failed. There was a twisting in your gut that something more was happening. He was sick, that much was obvious, but since when did Daryl get sick. Perhaps the trauma he’d experienced had impacted his immunity? No, that wasn’t it. You could feel that there was more. “Don’t you remember?”

“I kept tha’ picture.” His tone had changed, almost void of emotion. “They made me look. Kept it so I don’ forget.”

“Daryl, baby, you’re not making any sense.” 

His head turned toward you at the pet name, eyes looking clearer than they had even mere seconds prior. You found yourself almost leaning away, lest you drown in the high tide of raw emotion in those azure pools. 

“Daryl?” 

“Y/N, I—” His brow knitted but he didn’t look away. You nodded for him to continue, watched him take a deep shuddering breath. “I don’ feel so good.” There was no time to interrogate him about his symptoms. The words had no more than slid off his tongue when his eyes rolled back and he slumped toward you. 

“Shit!” You caught him under his arms, only remaining off the floor because of the close proximity you had taken in front of him when you had sat down. “Daryl?” Your left hand moved to cradle the side of his head as you stood and guided his descent across the couch. Lifting his legs up was difficult but you managed, caring little for the effort it required. Your hands hovered over him, not sure where to begin, but the symptoms: fever, weakness, sweating, confusion. Had he… was he bit?

You grabbed his arms, lifting each to examine up to the rolled-up sleeves. You couldn’t see his biceps, so you’d have to remove the shirt. Grasping his chin, you turned his head toward you and then away, checking his neck. When you started on the buttons of his top, the corner of the gauze that covered his gunshot wound peeked out from beneath the fabric. What should have been a clean, white dressing was dirty and yellowed. 

“Oh, Daryl.” You knew before you even pulled back the taped edge. While you were relieved it wasn’t the death sentence of a walker bite, infection in these times was nothing to play with. His shirt was wrestled off and pulled  from beneath him, tossed somewhere. You’d find it later. “Jesus.” You whispered, removing the bandage completely and tossing it aside. The skin around the wound was angry, such a deep red that it appeared nearly purple. The poorly sutured wound was leaking puss, both yellow and almost green. Had he been to the infirmary at all since his escape?

“Goddamnit!” If he wasn’t in such a poor state, you would have shaken him awake just to knock him out again. You shoved yourself from the floor and began to pace. What could you do? Nearly everyone had left the walls to go fight. Shit! The war was happening without you. 

Daryl groaned behind you, bringing your steps to a quick halt. The battle was suddenly absent from your thoughts.  He didn’t wake, only turned his head back and forth before settling again. His breathing wasn’t labored. He hadn’t coughed. Maybe if you opened, cleaned and debride, and restitched the wound, you could buy some time to find antibiotics in the infirmary. Luckily, everything you needed for this was in your bathroom upstairs. 

You began the ascent to your room. “Oh my god, Daryl Dixon, I’m going to murder you when you wake up.” Oddly enough, the threat came out in more of a high pitched whimper than an actual promise of bodily harm. Items in your cabinets and drawers were meticulously organized for this very reason. You had all you needed in less than a minute and were back at his side and placing things on the coffee table. 

You could only pray he’d remain unaware. You’d given Daryl stitches before and he’d barely grunted at you. His tolerance for pain was incredible, hence the terrible mess in front of you. You just weren’t sure how a fever-ridden Daryl would handle having his skin cut open and away while it was so terribly inflamed. 

“Okay.” You situated yourself on a chair from the dining room, bringing it with you after washing your hands. Daryl was still fully unconscious but you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek anyway. “Here goes nothing.”

Over an hour later, you had done all you could. You had cut away any tissue that appeared necrotic, cleaning out the yellow with some vodka before suturing the wound. It was significantly larger now but the stubborn asshole would just have to deal with that. At least it looked cleaner than the disaster made of it at Sanctuary. The mess had been cleaned up and the wound wrapped. A pillow had been placed beneath his head, his boots removed, and a blanket spread over him. You sat on the floor now, your back against the couch and your head in your hands. 

The streets outside were so quiet. It was unnerving. The sky was darkening and you found your thoughts wandering to the war you had missed and how many people’s deaths your absence had been responsible for. Would the Saviors come barging through the door to drag you and Daryl to Sanctuary? Maybe they would just shoot you both on the spot. Or would Rick come yell at you for ditching them before telling you of their victory?

Either way, you couldn’t have been there. There was no way you’d leave Daryl like this, even if it was the most cooperative he had been since breaking out of that hell. 

“Y/N?” His gravelly voice rasped out behind you. 

You twisted onto your hip and then onto your knees, one hand wrapping around his that lay on his chest and the other smoothing back his hair. “I’m here.” His eyes were barely open and he was still hot to the touch, but he seemed calm and lucid enough. “Just waiting for everyone to get back and we’ll get some antibiotics for you. Have you back on your bike in no time.”

“Wha’ happened?” He blinked slowly but didn’t appear to be struggling to stay with you. 

“You didn’t take care of yourself, dumbass.” You admonished gently even when you wanted to yell and throttle him for scaring you. “Your wound was infected. Had to do some fancy field surgery.”

“Oh.”

Your eye twitched at his flippant response but you sucked in a deep breath through your nose and got yourself under control. “Think you could drink some water for me?” He gave an almost imperceptible nod. Your water bottle was beside your leg, and you were much too tired to get up so sharing was caring. Cap off quickly, you wiggled a hand behind his head and pulled him up just enough to drink a few swallows. Once he was settled again, you brought his hand to your lips, kissing the too warm skin stretched across his knuckles. “You know I’m not leaving, right? Not now, not ever.”

“I didn’ know.” He admitted, his eyes slipping closed. 

“Well, now you do.” You smiled even though you had forty different emotions warring inside your head. “We have to start working through this, Daryl. Together. You have to let me in.” That pretty blue peeked out from behind his heavy eyelids again. 

“I don’ know how.” 

Your heart twisted inside your chest, an invisible vice squeezing and squeezing until there was no more room to beat. So much progress since the quarry and Negan had taken it all away. 

“You just talk and I’ll listen. I don’t understand how it feels to survive what you have but I can try. I want to try.”

“Then I’ll try too.” He lifted his left hand to your face, fingers tracing down your jaw. “M’tired.” You already knew he was losing the battle to keep his eyes open. The rest would do him a world of good. 

“Just rest.” There was cheering outside, but you couldn’t be sure who had come through the gate. Until Carol threw open your door, panting and concerned eyes wide. Her gaze flittered between you and Daryl. You jerked your chin toward the porch, sending her there until you could step out for a moment to give and receive updates as well as tell her what was needed from the infirmary. When the latch clicked, you looked back to Daryl, his eyes slipping shut once more. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[zaanesshaardz]

CW: MAJOR SCAR/INJURY

hi guys i did the trend thingy😊😊😊😊 (sorry for not being active im finally outta school so hopefully i’ll be feeding u guys more + i’ll be answering more asks promise)

heres the og pic + the sketch heheha

[hyuge]

Hospital Blues and Fantasy Hues

The lights are too bright, and the smell of antiseptic constantly tickles his nose as Katsuki lays in the godforsaken hospital bed after the war. Everything aches and it’s hard to breathe most days. The doctors said one of his lungs collapsed when his heart exploded. Turns out threading the muscle fibers of a heart back together in the middle of a war zone is a terrible way to triage a fatal wound but if it hadn’t been done, Katsuki would never have made it to the hospital. He would have died long before the battle ended, and that thought terrifies him. The nurses have to sedate him at night in order for him to get any sleep otherwise the night terrors make him thrash violently, ripping out wires, stitches, and IVs. It's a headache for everyone involved and sometimes Katsuki wishes the pro heroes hadn’t sacrificed so much to save him. Edgeshot is gone, and for what? He’s a mess. He’ll never be able to use his quirk the same way again. He’ll likely never be able to go pro now. His power has been cut in half. A prosthetic can’t sweat, which means he can now only create explosive blasts from his left hand. He won’t be able to fly anymore. God, Katsuki was so elated the first time he successfully flew in the air. There was nothing more freeing than launching himself hundreds of feet above the ground in a matter of seconds. Even Bird Brain can’t go that fast.

It's one of his bad days, where he’s left alone with his thoughts, staring out the window as life goes on, when there’s a knock at the door. It opens without him responding. It still hurts to talk. The nurses and doctors tell him he needs to conserve his energy and rest. He hates laying in a bed unable to move. His gaze drifts slowly toward the door. His vision is blurry, but that bright red hair is distinguishable anywhere. Kirishima moves to sit on the left side of Katsuki’s bed where he can see him best. The doctors said they managed to save his right eye, but he’s going to need one damn strong prescription to see out of it properly again.

“How are you feeling today?” asks Kirishima, smiling softly. He asks the same question every day because he comes to visit Katsuki every day. Even his parents aren’t here that frequently. They make do but their architectural firm is even busier than before. They’re helping with the relief efforts to rebuild the country. They’re true heroes unlike the bedridden shell he has become.

Katsuki reaches for his oxygen mask and lowers it to his chin. “Wish I could leave,” he says, because it’s the truth. Maybe his mood would be better if he weren’t stuck in this bed all the time.

“They’ll let you out soon,” says Kirishima. He sets his hand atop Katsuki’s and lifts the mask back over his mouth. They both know it’s not true. He has months of extensive recovery work in the hospital before he gets out, but the warmth from Kirishima’s hand and the kindness in his voice are comforting enough that he almost believes it.

Katsuki lets his hand fall to his side and turns his head, cheek brushing against the pillow as he squints to see Kirishima better. He closes his bad eye, looking only out of his left and his vision clears. He’s wearing his school uniform. Class has been back in session for a few weeks. Kirishima must have come as soon as school let out. He’s talking about something, but Katsuki misses it. There’s a ringing in his ears that comes and goes—tinnitus, another wonderful side effect of having overworked his quirk the way he did. He tries to focus, and the ringing slowly subsides.

“—sent me flying but I was able to stop him. Man, I don’t want to praise a villain, but Rappa is so strong, and he just wants to fight other strong people. It really made me feel good that he saw me as a rival. Probably the last time I’ll get to fight him though… The government is doing a massive overhaul on all the high security prisons.”

Katsuki blinks, trying to register everything Kirishima was just saying. It’s slow. His mind is sluggish from all the painkillers he’s on. He reaches for the oxygen mask again, lowering it to speak. “You fought that big guy… from the yakuza?”

Kirishima nods. The sunlight filtering in through the hospital room window casts a halo over the crown of his head. It suits him. Kirishima has always been angelic. He shrugs, suddenly looking self-conscious about bragging and says, “Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t be excited. Everyone was risking their lives and I know the battles were hard. There was a lot of emotional damage done on the others: Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki… I guess for once it was just nice to know that a villain thought of me as their equal and wanted to fight me.”

“You’re my equal,” Katsuki says but even as he says the words, he doesn’t believe it. Not because Kirishima isn’t strong enough, no, on the contrary. He’s stronger than Katsuki. Katsuki isn’t Kirishima’s equal.

They fall into silence after that, neither one of them sure how to carry the conversation from there. Katsuki’s mind wanders. He doesn’t like it when his mind wanders. The quiet scares him, so many new fears he didn’t have before. His eyes fall shut. He’s tired, always tired, but he doesn’t want to sleep, not with Kirishima beside him.

Kirishima clears his throat. “I—uh—I’ll go. You should get some rest.”

Katsuki snaps his eyes open to see Kirishima scratching the back of his neck. He moves to stand, and Katsuki reaches for him much too quickly. He winces, feeling his stitches tug on his skin, and grabs Kirishima’s hand. “Don’t go,” he says, beneath his oxygen mask.

Kirishima sits back down slowly and carefully picks up Katsuki’s hand, placing it back on the bed. “Okay, I’ll stay,” he says. “I’m not sure what to talk about.”

Katsuki moves the stupid fucking mask. “Anything,” he croaks. “Anything to fill the silence. Please.” He hates begging. His chest aches and his throat is thick as he fights back tears. He doesn’t want the quiet to come. Mindless rambling was always annoying but not when it’s Kirishima’s. His voice fills Katsuki with immeasurable comfort. He won’t tell him that though, not in the hospital hooked up to tubes and wires. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to Kirishima but not here, not like this. So, he’d rather listen until the day comes when he can be independent again and it doesn’t hurt to breathe, when looking at the void where his arm used to be doesn’t fill him with a sadness as deep as the Mariana Trench.

“Okay,” repeats Kirishima. He sits silently, contemplating, then smiles. The evening’s golden light makes him glow as he parts his lips to speak. “Have you ever heard the story of the barbarian prince and his dragon companion?”

Katsuki knits his brows together, studying Kirishima. “No.”

“Hah. Okay.” Kirishima scratches the back of his neck again like he does when he’s nervous. What does he have to be nervous about? “It would be so cool to live in a fantasy world with magic and stuff.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Our world is fantastical enough as it is.” He puts the mask back on and sucks in a deep breath. His lungs burn but they’re thankful for the added rush of air. “Go on,” he says into the mask. It’s stifled, but Kirishima hears him. Katsuki watches the bob of Kirishima’s Adam’s apple and the way he picks at his nails. He’s stalling.

“So, once upon a time—”

“Once upon a time,” Katsuki barks. It hurts to laugh. He coughs and Kirishima admonishes him for it.

“Be quiet and let me tell the story.”

“Fine,” Katsuki concedes. He relaxes into the pillow and shuts his eyes so that he can listen properly, envisioning the world Kirishima is about to create in his head.

“A long time ago there was this fierce barbarian prince. His family owned the largest kingdom in the entire land. They were well respected; feared by their enemies and loved by their people. The prince was strong and handsome and manly. Everyone wanted to be him or court him. He was very direct about what he wanted and while it rubbed some people the wrong way, others admired him for how straightforward and determined he was. His strength wasn’t just physical either. The prince was super smart and tactical. His magic was unmatched. So, he got bored easily. There wasn’t anyone he considered his equal because of how strong he was. He wanted to fight even stronger people to prove he was worthy of leading someday.”

Katsuki lowers his mask and speaks without opening his eyes. “He sounds cool.”

“Yeah,” says Kirishima fondly. “He really is.”

That makes Katsuki crack his eye open and peer at the soft expression on Kirishima’s face, the way the corners of his mouth are just slightly upturned, and the look in his red eyes is a little distant. Katsuki’s heart aches seeing him like that and not because of his injury. Kirishima clears his throat and continues.

“The prince decided to set out on a journey to find someone he could call his equal. He met and battled all sorts of people and creatures on his journey but none he would call worthy of being his partner. He slayed some ogres, fought some bandits, cleared out a cave of goblins, and while he enjoyed the fights, they never left him feeling satisfied. He had been traveling alone for a while when he heard rumors of a dragon nearby. The prince decided to check out whether or not the rumors were true. He wanted to take on the challenge of fighting a creature as big and strong as a dragon.

“He went to the forest where the dragon’s den was supposed to be and followed a trail that seemed too big to be anything but. The dragon was eating when the prince found him. He made a warning growl, but the prince wasn’t deterred. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the dragon, shouting, ‘Hey, you overgrown lizard! I want you to fight me and if I win, you have to become my partner!’

“The dragon huffed a breath of warm air and said, ‘If I win, you’ll be dead,’ which made the prince grin triumphantly.”

Katsuki snorts. “The prince sounds like an idiot.”

“Yeah,” says Kirishima, “but that didn’t stop him. He fought the dragon with his sword and with his magic, sending waves of fireballs at the beast. It was a heated battle.” Kirishima laughs at his own joke. “The prince used his spells to propel himself into the air to avoid the dragon’s lethal tail swings and the dragon spewed flames from its mouth into the air to keep from burning the forest. The dragon was enjoying the battle almost as much as the prince was. They both found someone worth fighting for once. The sound of sword clashing against scale echoed through the trees, and trenches were dug from the dragon’s massive talons scraping against the ground. The prince was getting tired and knew if he didn’t finish the battle quickly, he would die, so he landed on the dragon’s snout and swung his sword, slashing just above the dragon’s eye where the scales were thinnest.

The dragon shook him off and wrapped its giant hands over its face, covering its eye. Gradually, it’s size began to shrink until it was the size of a human man. The dragon stood in front of the prince with one hand covering his eye and the other held out for the prince to shake. ‘Looks like you win,’ said the dragon. The prince stared at him, surprised to see the dragon look so human. His eyelid was bleeding, but the dragon didn’t seem to care. He smiled at the prince and spread his large red wings wide behind his back.

“‘You can shapeshift!’ said the prince, taking the dragon’s hand. The dragon nodded and pulled his other hand away from his face with blood trickling down his cheek. The prince pulled his hand free and tore a part of his cloak, handing it to the dragon. ‘Here. Use this to help stop the bleeding,’ he said. The dragon took it and pressed it to his eye.”

A knock on the door startles them both and Katsuki looks to see the nurse walk in. “Apologies, but visiting hours are over now.”

Kirishima bows apologetically. “Sorry. I’ll go now.” He turns to Katsuki and smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bakugou.”

Katsuki pulls the mask off his face and takes a slow breath. “You better tell me the rest of the story.”

Kirishima beams at him, thrilled that Katsuki wants him to continue. “Promise.” He holds out his pinky and even though Katsuki rolls his eyes, he happily locks pinkies.

***

Kirishima returns the next day as soon as school lets out. He’s red in the face from running the whole way from the bus stop. Katsuki’s brows arch as he watches Kirishima stumble to take his seat next to the bed. “H-hey,” he greets, breathless.

Katsuki lowers his mask. “Why the rush?” His voice is raspy. He had physical therapy earlier in the day which resulted in an abundance of shouting and cursing from the pain.

Kirishima drops his bag on the floor and slides the chair up against Katsuki’s bed, placing himself inches away. “Just wanted to get here as quickly as possible. I know how lonely you get.”

“M’not lonely.”

They both know it’s a lie, but Kirishima doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he smiles and says, “Where did we leave off yesterday?”

Katsuki buries himself in the pillows and holds his oxygen mask in his hand. “Shitty dragon lost to the prince.” The elastic on the mask snaps and smacks against his face. Katsuki scowls.

“You deserved that,” teases Kirishima. “The dragon isn’t shitty. He’s manly.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. Kirishima starts to talk again, recounting the story as if he had been there in that fantasy land. The dragon and the barbarian prince travel together. They make the perfect pair and even though the prince beats him in battle, he doesn’t look down on the dragon. They’re a partner duo, not master/servant. They spend all their time together visiting new lands, fighting monsters, defeating bad guys, taking on odd jobs when one is posted. They don’t need the money, the prince brought a hefty amount of coin with him on his journey and the dragon has a lofty sum accumulated in his horde, but they take the pay. They donate it whenever possible. The prince never tells anyone who he is. He wants to see the kingdoms as a traveler, not as royalty, and he doesn’t fear death by anonymity. They’re too strong to be killed.

“—the dragon admired the barbarian prince. Everyone admired him. The people they helped showered him with praise, but they were wary of the dragon. Whenever they turned in a job, the dragon would stay back so that the villagers wouldn’t be afraid. The prince would collect their reward and head back to him. He always smiled after hearing how good of a job he did. When the dragon would tell him the same, he’d just shrug it off and say it wasn’t a big deal.

“The dragon would brush it off. He was happy enough just getting to adventure with the prince, so they’d head to the next town and take another job. They’d camp in the woods or find an inn to stay at. It was the two of them against the world.”

Everyday after school Kirishima would rush to Katsuki’s bedside. Work studies are canceled for the near future, so he has time to kill. The HPSC and the Japanese government are both in the middle of rebuilding. Because of that, they decided that student hero work would be put on pause indefinitely. That was one less thing for Katsuki to worry about falling behind at, not that he has any shot of going pro anymore.

He listens as Kirishima continues to tell stories about the dragon with his impenetrable scales and the barbarian prince with his explosive fire magic. With each visit, Kirishima becomes livelier with his storytelling. Katsuki watches as he jumps around the room, pretending to be the characters fighting. He watches the way Kirishima stands on the chair as if they’ve just conquered a battle. He laughs when the nurses chide him for his outlandish behavior, and Kirishima’s forced to apologize and sit down. It brightens Katsuki’s days, and he feels less like he wishes he had died.

They meet other people on their adventures, but in the end, it’s always the barbarian prince and the dragon. The two of them are inseparable and they don’t feel the need to have others around for exceedingly long. They explore caves, they slay monsters, and when one is injured, the other does everything in their power to tend to the wounds. When they camp, the dragon varies between sleeping in his full form or as a human. On cold nights, he takes his true form, allowing the barbarian prince to curl up next to him and leach off his body heat. When it’s warm, they sleep in bedrolls beside one another, the campfire crackling a few feet away. They never pitch tents—they block the view of the stars above.

It's romantic, though Katsuki won’t admit that thought aloud.

After two weeks of Kirishima’s storytelling, he gets to a part he has difficulty with. Katsuki watches him struggle to tell the story the same way he did when he first started telling it. He assumes Kirishima is likely running out of ideas for it, until he finally speaks.

“One night, the barbarian prince and the dragon got separated. They agreed to meet up later in the evening after completing a lengthy list of errands they needed to run. While they were a part, an evil warlock that specialized in torture and death magic captured the prince. He had apparently been watching them for some time. The dragon was devastated when he found out. If he hadn’t left the prince’s side, then maybe he never would have been captured.”

“There’s no way to know that for sure,” says Katsuki.

Kirishima gives him a sad smile. His lips are turned up, but his forehead is scrunched, and he shakes his head. “He should have been there. The dragon will never forgive himself for not being there.”

“It’s just a story,” says Katsuki, studying Kirishima carefully.

“Yeah,” says Kirishima. He sighs. “The dragon sent an urgent message to some of the people they met while traveling. They were able to help him find the warlock’s location and cause a distraction for him. When the warlock and his allies were distracted, the dragon swooped in from above and called out to the prince. He used his fire magic to launch himself into the air and land right on the dragon’s back. The rest of their friends withdrew, and the dragon scooped them up as well. They made a hasty retreat. When they were far enough from the warlock, the dragon set their friends on the ground, thanked them, and flew off into the night with the prince.

“They found an inn to stay at. The dragon didn’t want to risk being out in the forest, so they paid for a single room. It took a lot of reassuring from the prince that he was okay for the dragon to calm down. He kept getting worked up and starting to transform and the prince had to remind him that the fees would come out of his horde if they destroyed the inn because he went ‘full dragon’ while they were inside. The dragon didn’t sleep that night. He laid awake until the sun came up, watching the prince as he slept. Whenever his eyes shut for even a few seconds, he would fear the prince was gone again or that he failed to rescue him in the first place.”

Katsuki’s chest ached and not because of the open-heart surgery. Kirishima wipes away a few stray tears with the back of his hand and turns to look out the window, trying to hide his breakdown. Katsuki knows he can be dense at times but he’s not clueless. He sees the lines in the sand for what they are. He wishes he could reach out and properly comfort Kirishima, but Katsuki is limited to the small range of motion he has on his shitty hospital bed. So, he quietly waits for Kirishima to compose himself and carry on with the story.

***

Kirishima keeps telling tales of the prince and dragon each day he comes to the hospital. Katsuki doesn’t have any more bad days. There were tough days, but no longer did he wish he were dead. Instead, he stares at the clock, waiting impatiently for the redhead to arrive. His stomach flutters every time Kirishima walks through the door. It’s annoying as fuck because Katsuki still doesn’t have a deadline on when he can leave the fucking hospital. And it’s getting harder to stay quiet about it. He knows the implications buried in the stories Kirishima tells. The dragon and the prince are more than friends, even if Kirishima doesn’t outright say it. It’s also blatantly obvious that they’re a metaphor but he’ll play along for now. It’s all he really can do.

“They helped a pair of knights from the neighboring kingdom search for the lost prince of that kingdom. While they searched, the prince ran into someone he knew from his childhood. They hadn’t been on the best of terms growing up, but as they worked together to search for the prince who had apparently run away from home after a fight with the king, they had finally managed to work together and grow a true bond of friendship. The dragon was proud to see how much he had changed in such a brief period of time, and the barbarian prince’s friend knew all sorts of facts about dragons that even the dragon himself didn’t know. The dragon couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about that.

“They escorted the prince back to his palace. He thanked them. Even though he ran away, he was glad to be home. The neighboring prince had gotten into a lot of trouble on his own. He said people kept getting mad at him for no reason and he was covered in scratches and bruises from wandering in the forest. The barbarian prince said it was pretty obvious why people hated him. He was scolded for that, but the neighboring prince didn’t seem to get what he meant. That was probably for the best.”

Katsuki snorts. That idiot has to be Kirishima’s personification of Todoroki. It makes sense. The fucker is as dense as a board of plywood. Kirishima will never admit it, but he obviously thinks so too. Katsuki’s gonna pocket that one for later. He knows it’ll come in handy eventually.

Kirishima stays until Katsuki finishes his dinner, then he leaves so that the nurses don’t yell at him. They like to hover outside the door, lacking confidence in a teenage boy doing anything on time. They’re not wrong. Given the chance, Katsuki is certain Kirishima would stay long after visiting hours end. He’d spend the night if he could. Katsuki sort of wishes he could. His days might be better, but his nights are still rough. He could use a familiar face at his bedside as he tries to sleep. He lacks the comfort of friends and family at night. He’ll take that admission to the grave. They’ll all get too full of themselves if he ever says it aloud.

The better days bleed into better nights. He wakes up with less panic attacks, which means the nurses sedate him less often. That leads to mornings that are less groggy and quicker to start. The doctors say the ophthalmologist will be able to visit him soon and get him fitted for a pair of glasses. Katsuki is thankful. The blurry vision makes him dizzy and gives him headaches which require more medication. The ouroboros that is his life. He briefly wonders how stupid he’ll look in glasses and then remembers he looks good in everything he wears.

***

One afternoon, Kirishima comes in with a story of even greater magnitude than the rescue mission the dragon had gone on to save the prince. He talks about how the evil sorcerer has mounted a retaliation, pissed off with the way things went previously. The sorcerer knows who the prince is, and he declares war on the kingdom. The prince and the dragon have to call on all their allies to help them fight the sorcerer. The prince reaches out to the king and queen who mount their army and request aid from the neighboring kingdoms.

Katsuki sits up in his bed on his own. He’s finally able to do so without it hurting. He’s got a wicked grin on his face as he smiles at Kirishima. He lifts his mask and says, “I bet the prince kicked his ass good.”

Kirishima laughs solemnly and nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah, he did, but it takes everyone to defeat the sorcerer and not without casualty. They lose important allies. They mourn the loss of their friends and comrades, and the prince… The prince is severely injured. He’s on bedrest in the palace. Servants come and go tending to his wounds and bringing him meals. They wash him and bathe him because he’s too weak to get out of bed. The prince is alive, but at a great cost. All the while he’s in his bed, the dragon is at his side. He’s there from sunup to sundown, only leaving to stretch his wings in the sky and bathe. Then he returns to the prince’s side once more.

“The barbarian prince heals quickly. The royal healers use strong magic on him, and in no time, he’s back on his feet. He’s offered the crown, but he turns it down. He says he’s not ready to take over yet. He wants to keep on adventuring. So, he does, and his dragon is right by his side. The dragon is in awe of him. He doesn’t feel admiration for the prince anymore. It’s grown into something more, something deeper. The dragon likes the prince more than any treasure in his horde. It’s been that way since before the battle with the sorcerer, but he’s been too afraid to say anything.”

“Why?” asks Katsuki. His words are muffled behind the mask.

Kirishima stops talking and looks at him confused. He quirks a brow as he says, “Huh?”

Katsuki clears his throat. “What was the dragon so fucking afraid of?” he asks, callus as ever. “Did he think the barbarian wouldn’t want him? After everything we—they’ve been through?”

Kirishima splutters. “Well, maybe the dragon was afraid they wouldn’t last. Maybe he was afraid that once their time adventuring ended, that would be it. Maybe the barbarian would realize just how strong he is and that he doesn’t need the dragon’s help anymore. Maybe he’d decided to finally move on and find a stronger partner once he realized just how weak the dragon really was. They made a lot of friends on their journeys and the prince even reconciled with an old friend from his childhood. He might think one of them was a better option. Anyone was better than the dragon.”

Katsuki wrenches the mask from his face and tosses the stupid thing down on the bed so that it’s not in his way. He can breathe fine on his own now, but the doctors insist he keep using the mask for a while longer.

Kirishima lunges forward to reach for the mask. “Bakugou wh—”

“That’s fucking dumb,” snaps Katsuki. “If I had a kickass dragon as a partner, I think I’d wanna adventure with him forever.” Kirishima puts the mask back on his face and Katsuki huffs. He folds his arm across his chest and glowers at Kirishima. Kirishima’s cheeks flame red and Katsuki breaks eye contact, directing his focus on the wall across the room. His face is warm but he’s not fucking blushing because Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t blush like a bashful little girl. If his face is pink, it’s because the hospital room is unusually warm.

Kirishima smiles beside him and continues the story. “Well, maybe the dragon finally gets enough courage to confess once the barbarian prince is healed after the big battle. They set off on their adventure together again and the dragon searches for the perfect spot to tell the prince how he feels. There’s a clearing near where they first did battle. It seems like as good a spot as any. It’s the place they first met and where they first fought. It’s important to them, so he takes the prince there, and he finally tells him how he feels. It’s terrifying.”

Katsuki lifts the mask again, determined to speak without it hindering his voice. “The dragon better be ready for the barbarian to one-up him before that. He’s not clueless. He would take them somewhere they would both enjoy, maybe with some nice dumbass sunset or some shit. The prince already made the dragon his once. He’s gotta do it again, but official.”

Kirishima tears up. Fat, wet tears track down his face as he smiles. He chokes back a sob and nods his head. “I think the dragon would like that a whole lot.”

Good, Katsuki thinks. Now, he just needs to get out of this damn hospital bed so he can prove to the ‘dragon’ just how much the ‘barbarian prince’ cares about him.

Link to fic on AO3

[citrine-elephant]

from this and inspired by this

thinking of leon being used as a meat shield. and a sort of hostage situation towards chris.

already suffering a pretty hefty amount of blood loss, leon's barely able to stand on his own. he's taken a shot to the chest, and while it seems to not be lethal, it will be if he survives long enough without the second baddie threating to gut him for chris' displeasure.

chris knows leon's likely on borrowed time right now.

when the baddie tugging leon's hair back pulls even harder, leon gasps in pain, which turns into him choking, wheezing, and spitting a thin trail of blood down his chin. punctured lung, but so far not drowning in his own blood. still, borrowed fucking time.

it's either taking his chances now by taking the shot. he fucks up, and leon's dead. he waits too long, and leon's dead.

(insert more dramatic situation for chris, where it's harder for him to make a move)

[mercurydancer]

Burning Matches Pt. 3

CONTACT

_

            It took Peni a long time before the collective Spiders could finally make actual physical contact with each other, and somehow longer to finally gain contact with Pete. As their monochromatic friend had never had any real experience with cellphones or any other object that Peni could think to make to allow them to talk to each other, Peni had decided to wait until she had a working method of jumping to alternate universes before attempting to reach him. It was a hard decision to make, Pete had been the one to spend the most time with her, and she missed him dearly, but it made sense.

            It was likely that the sight of the group of them would be a lot easier to take, and likely easier to trust, than some random device that called his name, or otherwise tried to contact him in that way. The fact that he wouldn’t know how to actually use the device helped solidify the decision, and so Peni focused on calling up the others, helping them contact each other, and then buckled down to open up their dimensions without destroying the universe, or their cells.

            It was a good thing that Peni thrived under pressure. Adapt or force the world to bend, and Peni in this instance, had decided to use force.

            Communication came first, and it started with Gwen. While it would have been easier to start with Miles as she had a baseline for what his universe felt like…a part of her had been scared to try it. They had taken out everyone aside from the Kingpin.

            They had taken out everyone aside from the one who had killed Spider-Man, and while a part of Peni really believed that Miles had adapted and knew what he was doing, another part of her was terrified. She contacted Gwen.

            Peni hadn’t spent a lot of time with Gwen, but in that time, she had discovered that Gwen was cool. Gwen was a drummer in a band, had an amazing haircut that Peni would get Grounded-For-Life for if she tried, and her poise and dexterity had been amazing. If that wasn’t a person to emulate Peni didn’t know what was. It also turned out that Gwen’s universe was also very close in structure to Miles’.

            When she finally gained contact with the other girl it was to drop a communicator in the vague shape of a watch into her lap. Naturally it was able to be charged with a USB, which had not been a small feat. Figuring out the proper current as well as the pin size and length had been a chore, but the result was something that Gwen could wear without issue and use to both text and call with. The holographic keyboard was a touch of Peni’s own universe, but also one that she thought would be appreciated.  

            Gwen was the one who pushed for Miles’ universe to be the second, and Peni accepted without any pushback. When Gwen was finally able to open the small portal and drop his own watch onto Miles’ it was a moment of celebration. It had also been a true breakthrough. Passing the watch to Gwen to run some tests, who was then able to rip her own portal through to Miles’ and give him his watch and not having any lasting consequence to either wearer or watch?

            Brilliant.

            Peni had trouble finding Peter B. More trouble than she really expected. It wasn’t because his universe was that different to theirs, but more…his universe seemed to be the norm. There tended to be a lot of Peter Parkers that acted as Spider-Man, and finding the right one was a bit like finding a needle in a haystack. Made of Peter Parkers. Which was weird. When she finally found him, it was to stumble upon the sight of Peter B kissing a very familiar red-head.

            Peni had been unable to contain her squee at the sight, Peter pulling back in shock at the sound, and then reeling at the sight of a portal hovering behind MJ. MJ, for her part, took the rip in space like a champ, and aside from stepping behind Peter as he was the most prepared to deal with the strange and unusual, she stood her ground.

            “You got back with MJ, oh, Peter, that’s so good! I’m so happy for you!” Peni cried out, her hands under her chin, and hearts in her eyes. Literally.

            “Peni!” Peter exclaimed, shock, embarrassment and awe on his face in equal measures. “How…?” he started.

            “Can’t explain, not enough time, take this! There’re instructions on the back! Miles and Gwen are connected, too!” She threw the watch at him with a slip of paper taped to the back, something he caught without trouble due to his literally sticky fingers, and the portal closed on a pair of baffled expressions.

            Peni wasn’t surprised when she gained a frenzied series of texts from Peter B, but she was too busy laughing to care that much. She texted Gwen and Miles and alerted them to the fact that Peter B was with MJ and they had contact. The texts slowed to a halt when the other two immediately started texting Peter B their own congratulations, and it didn’t take long for a very simple, but very heartfelt: “Thank you” to appear on her screen, followed by “MJ says hello, and thanks you, too.”

            Peni felt a warmth spread from the bottom of her toes to the top of her head, and a grin spread as wide as possible on her face as she gave another ferocious squee. She was rocking this.

            Peni immediately set to work contacting Peter Porker, fueled by the success and the thanks she had been given. While it was true that Porker was a bit like Pete in the way that he didn’t have access to a lot of their technology, Porker also operated by this… Porker had called it ‘cartoon-logic,’ and Peni hated it, but that didn’t change the fact that he was absurdly good at making anything given to him work. She didn’t think he would have any trouble getting the device to work, nor did she think he wouldn’t be able to make it adapt to him in the same way he forced everything else around him to change.

            She was right.

            Porker took the watch when she gave it to him and sealed the portal again, and within moments had managed to not only get it to send pictures of his own world, something that Peni hadn’t originally given it the ability to do, but also sent her flowers through it. Two of them were a bright pink, and while one she recognized as a rose, the other took her a bit to learn the name of. It was a geranium she eventually discovered, and came with a beautiful white flower that she also learned was a lily of the valley. In combination, these three flowers turned out to be, not only an expression of friendship, but a return to happiness when she looked up old flower meanings later.

          Peni put them in water and had to fight back tears.

           She finally took a moment to relax and just texted and talked to the others for what seemed like hours, listening to their voices, memorizing the sounds of their laughter and the quips that seem to never stop from everyone, herself included. It just seemed to be a Spider thing.

            MJ talked, too, and it was so nice to hear her voice, and Peter B’s voice responding to her, and to them. He sounded so much happier, and that made Peni happy, too.

            Spiders Adapt or they Force the world around them to Bend, and Peter B had managed to force his, if only with a good deal of groveling and reevaluation, and promises, promises, promises.

            The only one left was Pete.

            It was time to work on actual prolonged physical contact, because she owed everybody one hell of a hug.

            It was difficult, first because she had to isolate what made them corrode, and then because she had to find out how to fix it all. There was also the danger inherent with that stability being connected to a watch that could either be destroyed or malfunction. If she was going to make this work, she had to make sure that either that watch was going to be near-indestructible, or she had to make them adapt.

            What to do, what to do.

            Eventually, Peni decided that she was going to have to make some serious tweaks to the watches themselves. While it would probably be safer to make either a nanotech injection or something else that would make their cells physically adjust to the other universes, a field wouldn’t have as much physical adjustments, and there was no telling how everyone else would react to the nanotech. That was one thing in particular that would have to be studied later as soon as she had access to the others and they could really dive into it. As it was, a protective field would make it so their own bodies wouldn’t corrode, but would also be a hell of a lot less invasive.

            Peni worked and she worked, her Spider a constant presence handing her tools and whispering encouragement into her brain, until finally…finally.

            Peni took her first step into Gwen’s world, Spider on her shoulder, and the older girl greeted her with a loud cry of happiness, and arms that wrapped around her and spun her around. Peni had brought her tools with her, and she worked on fixing Gwen’s watch while Gwen brought them pizza, the two girls laughing and talking as they ate and Peni modified Gwen’s watch. The entire time Peni never glitched once, nor did she feel the slight wrongness that had always been at the back of her mind when inside of Miles’ universe. When they were finished, Gwen followed Peni back into her universe, so she could properly examine Gwen and see to it that the field worked the same on her, and Peni had access to better tools if it didn’t. 

            It also brought her back to the actual SP//dr mech, the one that she had been recreating at the same time as connecting to the rest of the Spiders, and also the one that had been left behind to finish its own field. The plan with the SP//dr mech was to provide another safe-zone should anyone else’s watches bust. The trickiness of making sure that it could create any field in an isolated manner had left it behind the first time, but now that she had Gwen to help test with it was done faster. 

            When it was discovered that Gwen was able to not only stay in her universe and her own feeling of wrongness wasn’t present, Gwen and Peni both made the leap to Miles’ universe, this time with the entire mech.

            Miles greeted them with all the grateful enthusiasm a new Spider that had been missing his friends could. He also formally introduced them to his roommate, Ganke Lee, who seemed a lot more accepting of them when they didn’t have a talking pig, and also when he knew what was happening. Ganke had talked to them a few times through text and over a…technically seven-way group-chat when MJ had joined the five of them, and Ganke had gotten involved. It was good to see him properly, and…not give him a mini heart-attack.

            When Peni finally managed to properly adjust Miles’ own watch, they said a very sorry goodbye to Ganke, who was not only very understanding, he was also very supportive. They were going to Peter B next, and Ganke knew not just how much Peter B meant to Miles, he knew how much Miles and the others meant to Peter B. They didn’t have enough watches to bring him, regardless, and Ganke honestly wasn’t that sure how sold he was on hopping dimensions anyway.

            Peter B greeted them with a large hug and laughter, holding them all on the side of the building they had leapt out onto as their dimension hopper locked onto him perching there. Peni had leapt out of her mech at the sight of him, Peter B instinctively catching her much like he had the watch, and then simply gathered the other two teens up in his arms and held them. They held him back, laughing, and very much near tears. He was so much happier, so much more whole. He’d even managed to lose some weight, something he was endlessly ribbed for. When Peter B invited them back to meet MJ they accepted without hesitation, and a procession of spiders swung through his New York.

            MJ, who was used to being able to get into places she otherwise wouldn’t have, was waiting on another rooftop after Peter called her to let her know what to expect.

            MJ was sweetness and warmth in equal measures, combined with an unrelenting strength that made them instantly understand why losing her had caused such a strain on Peter. It also made them understand why he loved her so much in the first place. There was a moment when the urge to tease Peter for managing to gain someone so far out of his league rose, but then they saw the way they stood together. That familiarity and closeness that only came from knowing each other, and understanding each other, and above-all struggling together.

            Peni made more heart-eyes and clasped her hands under her chin, sighing deeply.

            “I’m so glad I get to meet you all,” MJ said, and she hugged them, too, and it was… Peni didn’t have the words, but she felt like she didn’t need to. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you so much for…everything you did for Peter. For each other,” the smile she gave them was soft and they couldn’t help but beam back.

            “Thank you for taking him back, he was an absolute wreck!” Miles finally said with a pair of finger guns and a wink, and the moment was broken with a great deal of laughter and teasing. MJ had a wicked smirk and quipped with the best of the Spiders, and Peni idly hoped that she’d have someone like an MJ one day. That would be nice.

            Peter B’s watch was taken and fixed, and with one last kiss, Peter B joined them on their second-to-last dimension jump.

            Peter Porker’s universe was loud and chaotic, and felt a bit like they had stepped into a Looney Tunes episode, not just because of the way everything looked, but because of the context. Peter Porker’s position was slightly different. While Gwen had been on the side of a building, Miles in his dorm, and Peter on another building, Porker was in the middle of something else.

         ��  Peter Porker was in the middle of a shower.

            The screaming that exploded from everyone was a mixture of truly horrified and embarrassed. The door slammed behind them as they all dove out of the room, and a moment later a (decent) pig stormed out of the bathroom with his face blushing a very bright red, but he recovered quicker than they did.

             “Ah, relax, that gag’s a staple in my universe, you wouldn’t be the first, and I doubt you’re the last.”

            The hopeless giggling that finally escaped Peni’s mouth was echoed by Gwen, and then finally the rest had fallen into a mixture of hysterical laughter. Porker made them tea, which was…an odd experience to drink. It felt there, but it didn’t feel…real, somehow. It was so surreal, but it also left them with the one watch that Peni had left. Porker finished bringing out chairs from a supply closet that looked like it couldn’t hold as much as it did, and they all gathered around the table in the kitchen as they drank their tea.

            Peni worked on this last watch that hadn’t been given to an owner yet, as well as Porker’s, tongue poking out as she fought to work out the kinks. Finally, it was finished, and the rest looked to her in anticipation as Porker put his watch on his wrist with a smile.  

            “Alright, guys,” Peni said, anticipation building up inside of her like a balloon, a smile on her face as she walked back to her robot. “Last one, are you all ready?”

            “Let’s find Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gloomy!” Porker called out with a fist-pump, and Peni sent them one last series of coordinates.

            The dimension hop was accompanied by the familiar lurch in the bottom of their stomachs as they tumbled end over end through a webbed-void, and then they lurched to a stop as they finally hit smog, black, and gloom.

            They huddled together on the roof of the building they had found themselves on, rain pouring down around them and almost immediately drenching them before Peni’s robot spun into position to protect them from the rain.

            “…Hello, Tall, Dark, and Gloomy!” Ham called out, patting the concrete of the building beneath him. There was a brief snort from Gwen, who immediately put her hand over her mouth.

            “What, it was funny?” she snipped at the rest of the Spider’s combined disbelieving looks. Porker crossed his arms, nodding proudly.

            It was then that the sound of machine-gun fire broke the silence. They immediately went into battle-stances, ready, senses straining as they fought to figure out where it came from.

            Flashes of light from a nearby building that resembled an old-timey speakeasy drew their attention in this world of gloom, and they soon realized that that was where the bullets were coming from. The flock of screaming men and women was another tip-off. They immediately leapt off the building, falling in a formation that they gravitated to without thinking. Peter B was the first to break through the door, flipping to stick to the ceiling above as Spider-Gwen landed on the railing overlooking a much bigger establishment than had been originally anticipated. Spider-Ham was on a table, Miles standing next to him with his hands ready to shoot webs at anyone who came near, while Peni rose behind them in her mech.

            They weren’t expecting the sight that they came to

            Pete was behind a kicked-over table, a tommygun and his usual pistol both held out before him, both aimed at something that a few of them instinctively recognized.

            Larger and more horrifying than they had ever seen or expected, teeth twice the length of Peter’s hand held in a mouth that couldn’t properly hold them, tongue lolling out between the gums and all held in a scaled and familiar head whose large black eyes focused and reflecting no light. Its hunched-over body loomed over the much smaller man with his weapons, tail whipcord thin and lashing behind it as its claws were bared and ready.

            At the sudden banging of the door and the leap of everyone into position paused, Pete paused in his firing to see who had appeared.

            “You guys-“

            In an idle sort of way, none of them had expected for Pete’s blood to be black. None of them had expected that their sudden appearance would be just the distraction that the Lizard had needed. None of them had expected for that very black and very unexpected blood to be painting the wall behind him as Lizard’s claws dug into his flesh, and sent his body flying limply to hit the wall with a wet-sounding smack.

            In the end, no one knew who screamed, but it was Gwen who attacked first.

[blinded-and-bloody]

That trope of amazing sharpshooters and precision fighters losing their sight and ability to defend themselves is,, amazing. Like, yess, you can hold the gun, you can hear the villain — but you’re basically completely defenseless ohmygod

[tsarisfanfiction]

Carnage

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Lee Fletcher, Lizzy White (OC), Kim Ha-Yoon (OC) "Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," or the immediate aftermath of the chariot race from hell, as experienced by one of the youngest kids in camp. Whumptober day 3, “Make it stop". Pre-canon this time; that throwaway line in Sea of Monsters about why the chariot races were discontinued has always intrigued me, so I figured why not try and explore it in a fic?

Lee was shaking.  There were screams in his ears, some echoes from earlier that wouldn’t go away, the terror as everything went horrifically wrong, and some still shrieking now.  Pain, grief, horror.

There was blood on his hands, splattered across his face and his mouth tasted of metal and it was disgusting but worse was the knowledge that it wasn’t his.  It was someone else’s, and no amount of spitting could get rid of the taste.

Chiron was shouting orders, and Ha-Yoon, too.  Lee tried to listen, but there was so much noise and his spine kept tingling because people kept promising that things were going to be okay, that things would be alright, but no-one was believing them.

Even without the tingle of a lie, Lee wouldn’t believe them.  How could he, when there was so much blood, so much pain?

He could see the crushed head of Berta, the head counsellor of cabin six, long blond hair matted with blood and skull completely caved in.  The one grey eye visible was glassy and sightless.  She hadn’t even been in a chariot, but she’d been in the wrong place when the Ares chariot had careened into the stands and something had gone boom.

Lee was pretty certain Ramona and Xander were dead, too.  The Ares chariot had been red already, but now it was liquid-red, and there was a single limp hand visible from the wreckage.  It wasn’t attached to a wrist.

“Lee!”  Hands grabbed him and spun him around so fast he almost lost his balance.  “Lee, are you hurt?”  It was Lizzy’s voice, and Lizzy’s tell-tale splash of dark pink bangs, but all Lee could focus on were the rest of the campers moving around, and the ones that weren’t, covered in blood and too still.

Ha-Yoon was shouting in English, he realised numbly.  That felt wrong.  His head counsellor never spoke in English.

“Lee,” Lizzy said again, and her hands cupped his face, forcing her to look at him.  Her hands cupped his ears, muffling the screaming.

There was so much screaming.

He blinked up at his sister as her thumb started wiping at his face.  “Are you hurt?” she repeated.  Lee shook his head.  No, he wasn’t hurt, just his ears ringing from all the screaming.

Lizzy’s orange camp t-shirt had red on the shoulder.

“Okay, good,” she said.  “Let’s get away from here.”

She didn’t give Lee a choice, tugging on his arm until he followed her, stumbling across the wreckage of the stands.

There was so much blood.  Lee saw Gabriel kneeling down next to Marisa from cabin five, his hand faintly glowing as he sang a hymn.  The words were drowned out by her screaming, her one remaining hand struggling to free itself from Gabriel’s firm hold while the mangled remains of her right arm slowly knitted up.

Lizzy pulled him past.  “Don’t look,” she ordered.  “Look at me, Lee.  Just me.”

That was easier said than done.  Everything was carnage and Lee tripped over one of the new Aphrodite kids where she was cowering behind her head counsellor as the pink-haired girl called out to the rest of her cabin.  It sounded like a roll call.

The Aphrodite chariot had been one of the first to flip, careening into the Hephaestus chariot which had then tangled with the Hermes chariot.  Lee didn’t know what had happened to the kids in it.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The Hephaestus and Hermes chariots had exploded.

He didn’t know what had happened to those kids, either.

Under his feet, blood-splattered stone turned to red stained grass instead, and he felt Lizzy pull him against her side, burying his face in her dark pink-purple dungarees.  “Don’t look,” she repeated, but not looking meant he could just hear more.

Ha-Yoon was still yelling, sending runners to fetch ambrosia and nectar and anything else they could carry from the infirmary.  Hooves squelched into the ground, and Lee know if that was the horses or Chiron kicking and tugging at the wreckage of the chariots.

The screaming still hadn’t stopped, even though the voices were turning hoarse.

Make it stop, he begged, but he couldn’t find his voice and Lizzy was still pulling him away.  Please, someone, make it stop.

“Lizzy!” Lee heard Ha-Yoon shout.  “I need Lee over here!”  She was still speaking in English, and it sounded wrong.

Lizzy muttered something that didn’t sound happy, but Lee felt her change direction, tugging them towards their head counsellor.

“Lee’s too young for this!” she argued back as they stumbled forwards, and part of Lee wanted to rebel at that – he was nine, now! – but the world was still screaming and he just wanted it all to stop.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Ha-Yoon snapped back.  “Give him to me.  I’ve sent Lauren and Michelle to the infirmary and I need you to go after them and make sure everything’s prepped.”

“Why don’t I take Lee-”

“I need Lee here,” Ha-Yoon cut Lizzy off.  “Lee, come here.”  Her words were short and abrupt, but she’d just switched back to Ancient Greek, and Ha-Yoon always spoke in Ancient Greek rather than English and that comforted Lee enough to peel away from Lizzy’s side and stumble across the short distance to his Korean sister.

She let him burrow against her jacket, even though the fabric was damp in places.  It wasn’t as comfortable as Lizzy.  Ha-Yoon was shorter than their sister, and Lee’s head was pressed against her shoulder rather than under her arm.  “Lee, I know this is loud and scary, but I need your help,” she said, and he tilted his chin up until he could see her face.

“Mine?” he asked, wondering what he could possibly do in the face of so much blood.  He wasn’t a healer like Mitch or Gil or Gabriel.

Ha-Yoon nodded.  “We’ve got a triage system set up and I need someone to look after the people that are hurt but not badly,” she said.  “You’re good at healing, so I need that to be you, okay?”

Lee swallowed but nodded his head.  “Okay,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” Ha-Yoon replied, her voice softening a bit.  “Wait here, okay?  I’ll send the patients over to you.”

He whimpered as she pulled away, and felt her hand squeeze his shoulder lightly.  He didn’t want to be left alone, but he knew Ha-Yoon wouldn’t leave him alone if she had a choice.

He also knew that Mitch and Gil had been in their chariot, caught in the backlash of the explosion, and that they hadn’t got up from where they’d crumpled.

Mitch and Gil were the best healers in camp.

His first patient was the new Aphrodite kid, barely injured but shaking just as much as Lee had been.  Still was.  He was pretty sure her name was Silena, and that the two of them were the youngest kids in camp.  Her head counsellor, Belinda, was with her, and had a nasty cut on her arm that Lee hadn’t seen earlier.

It was something Lee knew how to treat – kids came into the infirmary with cuts all the time, usually after sparring with Ares kids – and Belinda obediently stayed still while he dabbed at it and wrapped it up with supplies Lauren had appeared with just after Ha-Yoon left him.  Other campers came up to him, white-faced and red-stained but never with anything worse than deep cuts, and every so often Ha-Yoon came by to make sure his patients were listening to him.

Anyone who didn’t listen to Lee definitely listened to Ha-Yoon.

Eventually, the screaming died down.  There was shouting, instead, and sobbing, but it was easier to listen, and to look, when he didn’t have patients to treat.

Looking was a mistake, but Lee couldn’t help it.  Marisa’s mangled arm looked horrible even after Gabriel’s healing, and at one point he saw Gil being run up the hill towards the big house on a stretcher, leg twisted the wrong way around and white poking up out of all the red.  Mitch had stayed where he’d fallen for some time, even after Gabriel ran to him after finishing with Marisa.  When he’d finally been stretchered away, Lee had seen something dark sticking out of his chest.

Slowly, things turned less chaotic.  Most of Lee’s patients left him once he’d bandaged them up, heading for where most of the head counsellors were starting to organise clean-up.  The ones that stayed tried to help him, or comforted each other.

But things were still bad.  The lack of screaming didn’t stop the blood from being everywhere.  The less injured campers moving around while the worse patients were transported to the infirmary didn’t stop others being dead.

Lizzy didn’t come back from the infirmary, but Ha-Yoon’s brief stops got longer and longer, until he had no patients left and just her for company, wrapping an arm around his shoulders lightly.

“Time to get cleaned up,” she told him.  “And to get away from here.”  She shooed him on ahead of her, towards their cabin, and didn’t let him stop until he was in the shower, a pile of clean clothes folded outside and waiting for him.

At the sight of the faint red swirling down the drain with the water and soap bubbles, Lee sat down heavily, wrapping his arms around his knees and cried, because there had been so much noise, so much blood, and he was only nine and people were dead.

He didn’t know how long he spent in the shower when there was a knock on the door, only that at some point the hot water had turned freezing.  “Lee?”

He’d used up all the hot water.  Lee sniffled.  “Coming.”

Lizzy was waiting for him when he stumbled out, dressed in fresh clothes but unable to stop himself from snivelling.  Her top was still stained red, but her hands were so clean they almost shone.

She was holding his headphones, the ones his dad had given him in a dream a few months ago and had been on his head when he woke up.  “Do you need these?” she asked him.  Lee snivelled again and reached for them, letting them close over his ears with a satisfying snap.

The bubble of silence they wrapped him in made him wish he’d had them earlier, when everyone had been screaming and everything had been too loud.

Lizzy tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to look at her.  She pointed at herself, and then the bathroom, then at him and his bunk, ending her pantomime with a shrug.

Lee curled in on himself a little more and nodded.  “I used up all the hot water,” he admitted, his voice the only sound that ever got past his headphones and sounding a little tinny in the silence.  “Sorry.”

Her laugh was silent, but the way she waved her hand told him she was telling him not to worry about it.  She pointed at his bunk again, and Lee did as he was told, slinking over to it and curling up under the covers, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and he knew he wouldn’t sleep.

It was quiet, and there was no blood here.

In the safe cocoon of silence and blankets, Lee could almost pretend the chariot race hadn’t happened.

Almost.

[idrinkpasta]

Fire Inside (Mario Brothers)

Warning: this contains somewhat graphic violence and temporary death. Be warned.

Bowser let out an animalistic roar, filled with rage at Mario's attack. He breaths out scorching blue flames in a violent gust. He does this repeatedly, Mario dodging each time. Until he doesn't.

It's a direct hit. Mario let out a gutteral scream as his flesh burned from the ferocious heat. His conscientious fades fast.

It is silent. Luigi hesitantly walked towards his brother's corpse within this horrific quiet, breaking the ever fragile silence. "Mario... Mario... Oh, God." A sob rips its way from Luigi's mouth and he drops on his knees.

Bowser had stopped fighting, his anger quelled by a deep regret. His eyes were wide and he stepped closer.

"Go away. Look at what you did, Bowser. This is unforgivable. You killed him..." Luigi sobbed.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Bowser replied, eyes telling his regret.

"Apologies don't undo what you did. Nothing will. My brothers life was ended by your selfishness. It's all your fault," Luigi said, a harsh glare on his face.

Kamek flies into the room. "Your ugline--"

"Not now, Kamek!"

Kamek took a look at what was happening, and his eyes widen. "Your viciousness... You killed him..." Kamek took a deep breath. "Alright, we can fix this."

"How?! You can't bring back the dead!" Luigi yelled, cradling his brothers ever quiet corpse. "N...Nothing will ever bring him back... He's gone... Not even a one up could bring him back. Not from this."

"Bowser, I'm releasing Peach. She knows what to do," Kamek limply stated, then doing so without hesitation. Bowser lifelessly nodded in response.

Peach daintily walked over to Mario's corpse and sat beside him. She brings out a One-Up and holds his hand while placing it on his chest. She hums a rejuvenating tune, pink magic flowing in her hands from the One-Up. The One-Up shrivels up, and Mario's chest began to rise and fall.

"He's breathing. He's going to have to fight if he wants to make it," Peach murmurs. "But I know he will. He always does. And he always will until he cannot."

Meanwhile, Mario felt himself jolt within his consciousness. He looked around the lifeless area, pain within his soul. He was alive, he knew that, but how long could it last. It hurt. It hurt so bad. Did he even want to continue.

"Maaaaaario!"

Mario looked around, having heard his brothers voice. "Luigi... Luigi, I'm here. I promise."

"Maaaaaaaaaario!"

Mario wanders towards the light in his soul, but something stops him. He looked and Eldstar was floating in front of him. "Eldstar?"

"Do you wish to continue, or do you wish to extinguish your flame?" Eldstar asks, "Or do you wish to fight?"

"I... I want to fight. I need too," Mario answers.

"There's a flame inside of you. Embrace it with love," Eldstar murmurs and Mario felt a warm sensation.

Mario opens his eyes. He was now in his house, Luigi awake by his bed. "Lui...gi?"

Luigi hugged Mario gently. "You... You made it. You're alive."

"I'm... I'm alive." Mario nodded. "And I'm so so glad."

"I'm glad too, Mar... I'm glad." Luigi smiled, tears falling from the relief. "Now rest some more."

Mario was about to object but curled. "M'kay... Goodnight, fratellino."

"Goodnight, fratellone," Luigi smiled and watched as his brother falls asleep in his embrace.

Eldstar watched, smiling as he faded back to Star Haven. "Embrace your fire young one. It will keep you warm, even when you become a Star."

[macey-kasey-nope]

His hair was soposed to be waaaaaay darker ;-;

Also my camera quality is ass.

Zei gets his ass beat 👍🏽 babys first concussion

[aspenforest732]

Bello Licentiae Chapter 11: Death Wish (Coffee)

Summary:

tw: major injury, kidnapping, torture mention, brainwashing, mental anguish/grief, drugs and distribution, gang activity Identities revealed and hopes made real 'text' JSL Text thoughts

Unable to sleep, Akira spent the night looking into the Shie Hassaiki, one of the remaining yakuza groups that mostly stayed in the shadows. They messaged Boss asking for any information the gang and Haruki could quietly get on the group with a brief overview of what they knew so far. Around three, Akira was taking a screen break to rub their eyes and look out the window when their phone pinged again. They let out a shaky breath as Dabi confirmed that they were all alive, although Mr. Compress lost an arm. The League was with Giran's cheapest medic Tinker connection to get a prosthetic fitted, but it would still put them in a hefty amount of debt. Maybe I can talk with Giran, see about doing a favor or two to lessen it.

As light started to filter in through the windows, Akira sluggishly pulled out their ASL textbook to review before class and paused for the first time in a while over the title page. Oboro Shirakumo... A quick HeroTube search turned up a few videos of his two sports festivals as well as a news report on his death alongside Eraser Head and Present Mic's debuts. Akira vaguely remembered going over the sports festivals, as the former resulted in one of the few documented instances of a Gen Ed – in this case, Aizawa – getting into the hero course. They stared at the screen at the near-perfect match between Shirakumo's quirk and appearance and their now open nomu notebook.

Why would All for One go for a cloud quirk? He already had the quirks lined up for a long-range warp. The cloud component isn't strictly necessary, although it does provide a nice aesthetic and... possibly stabilizer? If he broke Kurogiri to be a caretaker for Shigaraki, a cloud quirk wouldn't be very helpful... Akira clicked back to the news report and grabbed a few more for that week, jotting down the possible targets. The only other one whose quirk compatibility and usefulness lined up was Eraser Head. Temporarily disabling a quirk instead of redirecting it made much more sense, and he would still have had some warping abilities if the intended combination was the same.

Akira slowly spun in their desk chair, celebrating the small victory while they could. They winced at the reaction Aizawa would have to the news, his self-sacrificing nature most likely winning out over his usual logic and reason. Yamada would be the obvious choice, but they hadn't brought him into the larger investigation, which would cause further confusion and theatrics before they could get to the point. Akira winced as their knees protested and popped while standing to get ready.

Fuck it. They made their way downstairs in their wheelchair, not trusting their body after an all-nighter. They robotically went through the motions of making a larger breakfast than normal since they couldn't sleep, surprising Kirishima and Katsuki as they came back from their morning run. Akira tiredly waved while stirring the rice.

"Hey Mori, you're doing the work study with Fat Gum, right?" Kirishima grinned brightly. At their nod, he hurriedly asked, "Can you get me in? Fourth Kind isn't taking work studies right now, and Fat Gum's so manly."

Akira leaned back slightly, a little taken aback at his enthusiasm, but quickly smiled, ' Of course! I'll see if he's open to a third. He usually prioritizes Brutes and Changers, so you'd be a good fit quirk-wise. How well do you know his outreach programs and philosophy? '

As they talked, Akira quickly realized Kirishima had done very little research aside from knowing Fat Gum's past on the police force. They gave an overview of what was commonly known as well as some of what they'd observed to establish expectations. It let them forget, even for a short time, the conversation they'd be having later.

Akira stared at their empty bowl as the conversation and their breakfast wound down. Fuuuck . Akira sighed and grabbed Aizawa's blend from the cabinet. After a quick calculation, they filled the pot higher than they normally would for Hitoshi's mug with Aizawa's death wish blend and turned their focus back to Kirishima and Katsuki chatting about their upcoming work studies. Well, mostly Kirishima. Katsuki's excitement bled through cracks in his annoyance at the remediation course through the little twitches and microexpressions they caught. As the pot finally dinged, Akira filled first Hitoshi's usual black with cinnamon and poured the rest into their own tumbler. About three-fourths coffee topped with creap almost to capacity and a tablespoon of sugar.

Kirishima stared between them and the coffee for a solid minute, opening and closing his mouth a few times. "Uh, Mori? I don't think I've ever seen you drink coffee."

Akira nodded and sipped the still-bitter abomination. ' It makes my passive quirk drawback worse. I need the energy more today. '

As the Mad Banquet trickled down, Akira told them they couldn't sleep but not why. Fumikage and Hitoshi were the most perturbed, sticking close to them. Koji quietly reminded them to grab extra snacks from the pantry for the caffeine in their system while Shoto and Aoyama looked on in confusion. Aoyama slid a few blocks of cheese their way, which they added to their bag without much thought.

In class, they caught Aizawa's eyes and signed ' lunch meeting. ' He raised an eyebrow but acknowledged it with a nearly imperceptible nod without pausing the morning's announcements. The morning dragged on, English with Yamada and Anii only reminding Akira of the signs they'd missed and the fresh wave of grief the couple would feel. Finally, the lunch bell rang, and they quickly signed to Mad Banquet, ' I need to meet with Eraser. '

"You've been doing that a lot lately," Hitoshi accused, eyes searching. "Is something going on?"

' There's a lot going on, ' Akira admitted. ' It's not something you need to worry about this time, but you might hear about some of it later, Blank. I need to take his lead on what information to share. '

Akira slipped through the quieter, roundabout hallways towards Aizawa's office. With only a few precious extra minutes, they could compose their thoughts without getting overwhelmed by the lunch crowds. They passed a few third years taking similar routes, always diverging after a few turns but acknowledging the need for quiet with a silent nod. As they slipped in, they noticed Yamada and Nezu were also there and raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, Mori," Nezu chirped with his trademark off-putting grin. "I hope you don't mind me inviting myself and Yamada to this meeting. I'm most eager to see what you uncovered, and I take it Yamada would be quite interested as well."

Akira sighed and asked, ' Search history? ' Their teachers looked confused, Aizawa's eyebrows pulling together slightly, but Nezu's grin widened as he nodded. ' How much is Mic-sensei aware of my current situation? ' they turned to Aizawa.

"Only as much as you and the media have told him," Aizawa clarified. "It's up to you whether additional information is required for this meeting."

Akira hesitated. They had already considered bringing the voice hero into the investigation, but it would just overcomplicate things in the moment. ' Perhaps later, but not to start with. ' Aizawa's eyebrows raised minutely as Yamada offered a soft smile, eyes shining brightly at the idea. ' There are multiple parts to this. Would you like an update on League activities first or Kurogiri's identity? '

Yamada's expression immediately fell into concern and confusion as he gaped between Akira and Aizawa. Nezu's whiskers twitched as he leaned forward slightly, and Aizawa carefully searched their body language. After a moment, he said, "Kurogiri."

Akira pulled out their nomu notebook and flipped to Kurogiri's page before passing it to Aizawa. ' From our previous discussion, I established Kurogiri is one of a few advanced nomu with a mental stabilization quirk to retain some of the host's personality. Whether the impassivity and other changes are due to the trauma from multiple quirks, the effects of a long-term brainwashing quirk or conditioning is unclear. ' Aizawa froze, gaze locked onto the names. ' Warp Gate is the interaction between three or more quirks, and last night, I uncovered that his host is very likely Oboro Shirakumo. '

A choked sound escaped from Yamada, and Akira forced themself to focus on Aizawa's desk. They might not be able to continue if they looked over to the voice hero. ' Between All for One's files, the League, and my research, I've concluded with high confidence that Kurogiri was broken to be Shigaraki's caretaker. Following that line of reasoning - outlined on the next page - I do not believe Loud Cloud was the original target. The ability to temporarily disable a dehydration quirk would be far more logical than redirecting it, and the other quirks in play would still have provided long-range warping if that was the original intention. '

"Shou?" Yamada's voice wavered as he went to stand by his husband. Aizawa stared at the notebook, eyes glazed over and body coiled tightly. Yamada gently grasped his husband's shoulders, kneading them as he read the notebook over his shoulder.

' There is a possibility he can be reached, ' Akira said once Aizawa was a little more present. All eyes snapped back to them. ' His mist distorted and pulled, revealing parts of his face when asked about his past. I don't know what's going on mentally, but I think Loud Cloud is still in there. Or at least part of him is. If we can get him out like we did with Toga, he might be able to fully resurface with time. '

After what felt like an eternity, Aizawa breathed again and closed the notebook, setting it aside. "We can revisit that. What about the League?"

Akira nodded, grateful the hard part was over. ' They met with the Shie Hassaiki last night. Mr. Compress lost an arm, and at this time, it's unclear whether they will continue pursuing an alliance. If they do, revenge will likely be on the table given Shigaraki's disposition. They're interested in any ongoing investigations regarding the yakuza group and analysis on the members. '

Yamada's expression twisted in confusion as Akira explained, and he looked between the three. "Why would your contact mention analysis? I thought this was a one-sided operation." He straightened, still resting a grounding hand on Aizawa's shoulder.

' Due to extenuating circumstances, I replaced the U.A. traitor in the League, ' Akira explained, watching Yamada's body language carefully as he startled. He mostly seemed deeply worried with an undercurrent of anger they couldn't quite place the direction of. They hurried on, nervously glancing to Aizawa. ' Right now, only the people in this room and a select few know about this. Due to the circumstances, they receive less information on U.A., instead getting my analysis of them and apparently other groups now. I will not be providing such analysis on any of the faculty or students. '

"It's not ideal," Aizawa interjected as Yamada started to protest, "but there is good reason for their placement. Sir Nighteye's main focus has been on the Shie Hassaiki lately, so I'll keep you appraised. I suspect he'll be requesting more heroes soon, so you'll likely be pulled in under Fat Gum's agency."

As they headed to Mad Banquet's tree, Akira pulled out their phone to check with Taishiro.

reaper : one of my classmates (he/him) is interested in a work study with you

He has a Brute type quirk that hardens his skin to varying degrees of protection

and coverage. Would you be open to taking on another student?

sunnyd : of course! Is he Eiji Kirishima?

He was the other kid I had an eye on during the sports festival

Akira smiled and confirmed before rounding the building. They sent off a quick text to Kirishima letting him know, and headed for their group. Aoyama wasn't with them, but Shoto was.

"How'd your meeting go?" Shoto asked, eyes sparking with curiosity.

' Good given the subject, ' Akira said, smile falling slightly. As they took in the group's guarded curiosity and Fumikage's expectant look, they sighed. ' Is it time for that conversation? '

"Aoyama claimed he was already aware," Fumikage confirmed.

Akira winced, ' Yeah, that's a whole other story that is not my business to share. ' After double-checking for prying eyes and ears, Akira continued, ' I'm spying on the League. There was an opportunity when I was brought to All for One, and I took it. '

"What?" Hitoshi hissed as Koji blanched. "Why the hell didn't they get a hero to do that? You're a kid!"

Akira leveled them with a tired look. ' There was someone, but they're automatically going to underestimate a child. I saw the opportunity and took it. ' At Fumikage's knowing warble, they added, ' There's a bit more to it than that, but it's not something you need to know. '

"They're not going to leave you for the other part," Fumikage hummed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hitoshi asked, frustration darkening in his gaze as he looked back and forth between the two.

Akira pressed their mouth into a thin line and pinned Fumikage with a hard look. Fingers drumming against their wheelchair arms, Akira took a moment to consider. ' It's not just about that. Like I told Raven that night, the other part is on a much larger scale than any of us should have to worry about. I brought my adult network into this, but I'm not going to bring other children in unless I have no other choice. '

"Your family?" Shoto breathed. Not able to think of a reasonable excuse, Akira nodded. "Then do what you need to do. If that means you can't talk about it, then don't."

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Koji broke the tension. "Mirio said he'll introduce Midoriya and me to Sir Nighteye tomorrow, so we won't be in class."

"Hawks is moving my hours to from day to evening shift, and I will also not be in class," Fumikage added. "Will anyone be there?"

' I'm taking a half day tomorrow . It only takes a few hours to get to Esuha, but school would make me late to evening shift. '

"Dad still has to teach, so I'll be there," Hitoshi added. "Let's post our schedules in the group chat once we get them so it'll be easier to coordinate. I'll cover notes for tomorrow."

' Mine will probably be a bit more variable, but I will keep everyone posted, ' Akira said sheepishly.

The next morning, Akira sent their preliminary findings on Shie Hassaiki to Dabi and confirmed Kirishima would be starting the following Monday because of paperwork. They'd also need to establish with Taishiro how much the kid would know about the Wren investigation. As Akira was heading towards the train station with Amajiki, they frowned at an incoming call from Koji. Odd, he and Midoriya should still be at the agency .

"Hey Akira, are you already on your way to Esuha?" Koji asked, face tight with an anger Akira rarely saw.

' Yeah, but I can head back if something's wrong. Are you three okay? ' Akira asked, stepping to the side so they could turn back if needed. Amajiki quietly followed, watching curiously.

"We're fine, really, it's not that big of a deal," Midoriya protested in the background, hands waving frantically.

"I don't think belittling you and calling you worthless is what the work studies are for," Koji shot back as a few birds took off at his tone. "You don't have to stay with someone who doesn't even think you're worthy of your own quirk!"

Akira jolted in shock. They'd only heard Koji raise his voice outside training once before, and that was to defend someone else. If he knows about One for All, All Might probably told him, but why would he be treating the successor with such disdain unless... Akira swore sharply, startling Amajiki. ' You're right, Animal Whisper. At the very least, Broccoli should head back to U.A. It sounds like a weird grudge unless you also had a bad interview. The last thing either of you need is another person working against you. '

As Midoriya protested, Akira shot off a message to Aizawa letting him know the situation. ' I'm about to get on the train, so reception will be spotty for a while. Stay safe. ' They got a few odd looks on the train, but Akira pointedly ignored the whispers of the new Wren. They shot a grateful half-smile to Amajiki as he not so subtly kept people from approaching with phones out.

When they arrived, Akira grinned at the sight of Taishiro waiting for them. ' Good to see you again. How have you been? '

"Good, and you?" Taishiro swept them up to his side as the trio made their way to the agency. "Have you tried any new recipes? Tamaki told me the school funds the groceries and such now that you're living there."

Akira nodded, warmth swelling in their chest at him checking in. ' Sugar Man is a baker, and Dynamight loves to cook. It's been nice, although a bit weird, to not need to worry about food costs. Sugar Man showed me how to make pound cake, which was interesting. ' They chuckled as Aoyama's antics came to mind. ' I also think Sparkles uses cheese to express affection? '

"That sounds great, kid!" Taishiro beamed. A few people on the streets noticed Akira tucked into the group, but the whispers that reached them were at least not deadnaming them. Most seemed more interested in Amajiki, fortunately, although he pretended not to notice even as his ears flattened.

As Taishiro talked about the new additions to his agency, Akira gradually felt more watchful eyes on them. They warped onto a nearby rooftop, directing their clone getting a lot closer to second nature as they watched the crowd. A couple minutes later, they saw Mouse briefly shift back into human form in an alleyway before turning back into a mouse. Shaking their head, Akira warped back to Taishiro and stepped into their clone.

' Was Mouse your idea or did fae want to try and get me this time? ' Akira asked with an amused smile. ' Oh, do you want me not to say anything if I spot faer before Red Riot does on Monday? '

Taishiro laughed, and Amajiki even cracked a small smile. Akira just made out soft swearing from Mouse as fae made faer way back to the agency. "Mouse wanted to see if you wouldn't expect faer a second time. And yes, it's a little game we like to use for new hires. It's better to see where his instincts are early."

As they entered the agency, Akira noticed the desks in the main area had been moved farther enough apart to accommodate their wheelchair. The walkways, which had been mostly clear before, were also completely free of clutter.

"Let us know if anything needs to be adjusted or added," Taishiro offered as they entered his office. "Support tech advancements have enabled more physically disabled people to become or continue to be heroes, but there isn't a standard yet for accessibility in agencies."

Akira nodded gratefully, ' I'll keep that in mind, thank you. I saw some reports that drugs were being circulated again here. Is that one of the cases I'll be working on? '

"Yes," Taishiro turned grim as he handed them a folder. "There's a new group in the city, and their main goal seems to be distributing Trigger. It's an illegal quirk-enhancing drug that we largely took out of circulation five years ago. Everyone's on alert for sightings, and we've made a few arrests, but no one's talking."

Akira nodded slowly, scanning the documents and handful of photos before cocking their head. There was a strange scarring in almost a straight line across the member's arms. Akira unclipped the photo and set it on the desk. ' Is this person in custody? Their scar is unusual, and I'd like to get a closer look. '

"No, they can thin their body similarly in practice to Edgeshot, which has made capture difficult," Taishiro explained. Amajiki stood to take a closer look as Taishiro looked over the photo curiously. "It looks like a slashing wound. Did something catch your eye?"

' It could be the wound's interaction with their quirk, but I'd expect more shape distortion in that case, ' Akira signed distractedly as they thought through the possibilities. ' It's too grainy to tell for certain, but the texture of the scar is what seems off. A serrated blade would leave more variation in the sides of the scar, which a distortion-based Changer quirk should have exaggerated if it was affected at all. A serrated blade also would be difficult to use for that type of wound in battle, and the wound should be at an angle if it were a surprise attack. '

They looked up from the photo to see sad anger in Taishiro's eyes and sad understanding in Amajiki. ' Experience and observations of other kids in the family, ' Akira explained. As the two looked at what little skin was exposed in their uniform, Akira clarified, ' Most have faded by now, and they make sure no unexplainable scars are visible on their heroes. On the bright side, I can identify the differences between a number of physical and mental scars from a variety of quirks. '

Taishiro hummed and looked to Amajiki, who had subtly shifted in his seat. After a long moment, the younger spoke up, "What do you mean by mental scars?"

Is that not the phrase? Akira mulled over the possibilities before remembering what Inui had used in a couple sessions. ' Trauma responses might be a better phrase? Shifts in thought patterns and behavior like flinching and positioning in a room. '

Notes:

I was going to establish the year in this chapter, then I realized that would create problems of dating the piece and the size of their family would be impractical for the year I gave. Sooo I mean dates repeat every 28 years, so I just have specific years where the timeline matches up. I have been using the 2148 calendar for my timelines, but if I remember correctly, quirks need to be around for at least two centuries by the time of MHA canon. So do with that what you will. This is the only death I set out to fix. No one gets fridged this time around :) the reasoning is basically Dabi is there because Toga's captured, so they have a strong mid- to long-range fighter.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[concernedgravy]

MCD!!!

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.

His wish did come true after all ✨

Wish upon a star ✨⭐️💫

[sonicexelle-junkary]

Another character idea that came to me recently. Surprisingly not tied to any au or existing story. He’s his own dude.

Wound (you choose the pronunciation) is a wolverine with an incredible fixation on hedgehogs (mobian or not) to the point where he wants to literally look inside and see how they tick. His strange interest has garnered the attention of Sonic and his friends, but he has yet to be able to do anything to them, unfortunately.

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 2

Back in camp, the warm weather gives the healers a chance to relax, and puts Wildfirecry in a particularly good mood, reminding him of his former home in Forestclan, far to the south.

Wildfirecry takes Songpaw out to look for Fiercestripe's patrol. Along the way they discuss what's really been on Songpaw's mind.

The scent of blood sits heavy in the still air. With Songpaw sent back to camp for help, Wildfirecry steels his nerves and rushes ahead, prepared to join the battle against whomever had made the mistake of tresspassing onto Loudclan's territory. As he neared the Loudclan border, though, it became clear that the battle was long finished.

Fiercestripe, Chumtail, Dogwoodmoth, and Dashpaw were killed in the rogue attack, taking 4 of their attackers with them. Rosehiptree managed to survive by staying hidden in the bushes, but she is by no means unscathed. Loudclan is devastated by this event, and will need time to mourn, but on the other side of the valley, three trespassers thank the stars for whatever might have delayed their pursuers.

[...so ... how are we feeling about this one, folks? bad? yeah, I feel bad. full disclosure, if Eklutna dying was the moon that I decided I wanted to keep playing Loudclan, this was the moon that almost made me quit. I was and continue to be DEVASTATED by losing these guys, Fierce, Dogwood, and Chum were some of my all time favorites as I played and I fell in love all over again writing their stories here. (Sorry Dash, you just weren't around long enough for me to get attached.) In game technically Fiercestripe died of heatstroke, but since it was the same moon as the rogue attack this felt like a much more fitting way for her to go. Anyway, I think one more part should wrap up this moon, and my deepest apologies to you all.]

First Moon

Next Moon

[hyperions-light]

Wow, thanks for sharing this! Your poor Rook that’s so awful ;-;

Hope ppl will check out this fic! Mind the warnings !

Heyo, it’s Friday again!

It’s the Rook Introduction Hour! ✨🎉🎊🥳

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): What is the worst thing that’s ever happened to your Rook? Was it during the course of DATV, or before that? What impact did it have on their life? How did it change them as a person? If their decisions had a part in creating the situation, do they regret it?

Thanks for sharing !

[quiescentdestiny]

thank you so much to the fics that pointed out explicitly that all of Neil's scars that he mentions are on his front, which implies very few of them were received while running and instead imply that he got them while fighting back.

I hate it here.

[akemisalem]

every time i look at this picture i start crying laughing. why in the world did they make oboro so fucking big LMFAO, he should be playing basketball instead of being a hero