#mic thoughts....Thunk

[circledotdestroy]

Retrospective - Chapter 4: Professional Conversations

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (the slowest burn) Main summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First Chapter Last Chapter Word Count: 5,708

A/N: So Aizawa decided to comeback finally the other day... How are we feeling? Anyway, I hope this helps the manga readers. (I'm so sorry it's been over a month, life decided to throw me at the wall a few times. Because I've been struggling with posting chapters as often as I want to, I've decided after this one I will be cutting down the size. I hope it works out for the best, but that means there will be a larger number of chapters. I hope those of you that read my story don't care too much) (Also where the hell is Mic???)

For the rest of the meeting you stood breathless. Heart gushing blood through your ears.  The words of your proposal dissolved as everything after cemented arrangements flowed into nothingness. You smiled, nodded, and told your new boss you understood his terms as his words reached your ears. Yet you grasped at nothing.

Nezu left the room satisfied. Said something about signing and a new ID. On his way out he wished you the best working for Eraser’s class. You did well, you think. 

When Nezu was gone, heavy thunking and a giant shadow from the corner of your eye irritated you out of your trance. It was Mic, jiggling the briefcase by the handle. Your laptop was still in there! Slightly annoyed, you swiped at the handle to snatch it back. Mic pulled it away before you could, saying something about how he knows you can grab it, and to “try harder”. 

You rolled your eyes in a huff, though now wasn’t a good time to break character. Right? You looked around the bright room and almost everyone was gone. The clock on the wall ticked away as you tried to place when everyone left on a timeline. Nemuri waved on her way out, All Might gave you a thumbs up. This was maybe five to seven minutes after you volunteered your time thoughtlessly. When the vote was over, the only people who needed to be in the room was you, Nezu, and—

You turned to the right of Mic’s chair. Eraser finished gathering his folders from his table. Nezu left the details of your position to him. There were many questions you had about being an advisor, but the main one was ‘what does Eraser have in mind?’ Eraser went around the table. Before you finished thinking you’d need to stop him to clarify your new temp job, he joined you and Mic in the center of the room. 

In typical fashion, Mic caught on and spoke up before you thought of how to open. “You’re working with Strife then, Eraser? You excited?”

Eraser huffed, ignoring his question. Whether he regretted agreeing to the arrangement already, or he was annoyed Mic brought it up, you weren’t sure. So much for fostering a good professional relationship. You understood though. Just because something is objectively better, like having someone help you prepare twenty kids for a grueling exam, doesn’t mean it’s what you wanted. “I need to talk to Strife. Alone.”

Mic’s grin left his face as he looked at you then back at Eraser then back at you. “Alright,” his smile came back as he shrugged. Mic flipped your briefcase over his shoulder and walked toward the door, leaving you with the friend-of-a-friend. “Try not to keep her too long!” Eraser watched Mic leave the room. In the silence, the conversation you had earlier came to your mind again. Now that you owe him, thinking of how you stormed off earlier made you want to ask Mic to stay. Not out of fear, but because he’d make this interaction less uncomfortable. 

But it was too late when the door shut. 

You and Eraser. Alone. In a bright, empty room. There’s no need for played up charisma—not when he was past it all and knew you were full of it. Eraser, unexpectedly, held out the folders to you. Grabbing the small stack cautiously with both hands, you thought back to your earlier theory about the folders holding information meant to cast you out. If that was the case then he wouldn’t give you these now. Not when he can hold the folders as leverage for later. Eraser didn’t say a word until you flipped open the first folder, on the top there was a school photo of a boy with red hair. “My class starts training today in Gamma at 9:30.” Toward the middle there was another picture of him in the UA gym uniform. One of his arms was rigid like the side of a cliff, while the other looked normal. “Those contain the information of a few students in my class, I’ll give you more later. I want them to work on creating Ultimate Moves for the exams.” 

That’s it?

Eraser could’ve done that without you. Why would he agree to the deal, if the training was independent work?

Your finger traced the paper up to the lines next to the headshot of the boy. The first line should be his name. Squinting  at the page, your eyes bounced across the paper. The page was incomprehensible, a salad of lines and squares. You closed the folder and looked at the gray capture weapon again, it was easier to see what actions he’d take if you looked around his shoulders. “It’d be best if I observe the students before I read the files.” 

Eraser shifted his weight to one leg, causing a shift where his weapon overlapped. “Any reason why?” His weapon was too clean for it to be used frequently. Maybe he got it replaced recently? Yet again, with everything you heard about the school, his students fighting off villains without licenses… it’d make sense if he was sidelined from doing hero work if his teaching his class was a handful.

“I want to judge them myself,” you answered, mirroring his stance. You lowered the folders in front of your body. Eraser made no moves to take them from you. “Judges don’t read about people taking the test before the exam. It’s like how  students don’t meet judges grading the exam. It plays into…” you tried to find the right word. An equivalent to “impressions”, but drawn blank. You raised a gloved hand to pick the word out of the air. Eraser just leaned back with a vacant stare making it harder to concentrate. You closed your eyes and sighed as you settled on “-first sight, if you understand.” 

 When you opened your eyes, Eraser gave no input of his own. He stared blankly, with nothing to suggest he knew what you meant.

 Language switching wouldn’t be acceptable with him like it would be with Hizashi. If you were supposed to give advice to students, then you’d need to communicate clearly. How often would you have to play Word Find in front of teenagers? If you wanted to stay here long enough to locate Akari—hell, if you wanted to investigate in Japan, you needed to get your act together. And quick. “It would also help if they are focused on their training, not a stranger in the room.” While you figure out the mechanics of their quirks, you can have some time to think about and practice what you’ll say. It’ll be just like the first year.

“My students won’t get distracted,” Eraser crossed his arms, with an edge in his voice. Defensive? “But fine. It’s logical enough. We’ll still meet at Gamma and set something up for you to get the information needed, but the class still has to meet you today. There’s only 10 days of training, no time should be wasted.”

Fair enough. If they’re training ultimate moves, you only need a little time to get the gist of their quirks for day one. Details can come later. It should give you enough time for a language refresher. “Anything else?”  

Glancing at the ground, his boots pointed toward the door. Unlike his weapon, those were scuffed and broken in. The man is as ready to leave as you are. “We have everything covered. For now. We can talk more after you observe the class. We’ll discuss more when the time comes. For now, we’re building their strengths and hammering out weak points.”

The conversation ended and he finished, about to walk out the door. Footsteps thudded against the hard floor as he made his exit. You thought you were ready to see him leave, but “Wait—!” 

Eraser paused.

The hand raised toward him recoiled into a loose fist. You put it away before he turned back. When he did, your eyes trailed to his boots again. “The way I walked out…” They were pointed toward you, and not the door. Good to know you had his full attention this time around. He hummed, that type of thing would be hard to forget in less than a few hours. You tried to find the rest of your sentence and got stuck at a fork in the road. 

Were you supposed to say an apology you didn’t mean?

 You weren’t sorry about why you left. In fact, business and gratitude aside, you were still mad at him. Not that it matters. “I didn’t act my best,” you said, looking up from the ground. What you feel now— it means nothing. 

The man blinked slowly then glanced off to the side closest to the door. Bored already… Him listening to what you had to say was only professional courtesy. 

“I didn’t act my best. You’re giving me this opportunity to let me complete my mission faster, and you don’t have to.” You were going to work with him. You’ll help his class. All of them will get their license. In return, you’ll get the answers you need. When all is said and done, Eraser won’t ever see the Pro-Hero Strife again. “Thank you, Eraser.” Words fell out smooth as sand on your tongue, but you can look at his face again.

Eraser rubbed the back of his neck, dodging your gaze by glancing at the ceiling. “If you judged licensing exams before then you’re an asset. Letting you investigate here is a rational trade, I’d be an idiot to vote against it,” he explained listlessly, meeting your eyes toward the end.

You nodded. “Of course…” After a hectic few hours, this was how your conflict ended. All personal grudges all under the bridge… Just like that. 

Because you two are adults. Two adults with jobs to do– professionals.

You walked past the other hero, your short-term coworker, explained how you didn’t want to keep Mic waiting. He understood, told you he’d have more information ready later. Both of you went into the hallway. Mic was trying really hard to make it look like he wasn’t listening in. Mic tried dodging the suspicion by bringing up food. Fortunately for him, with the way you’ve been using your power– on top of the healing quirk, you needed calories. Enough to fill a black hole with the way your stomach squeezed. Eraser didn’t have the same worries as you. In seconds, he was long in the opposite direction and you were fine. 

Mic led you around campus talking about Lunchrush, another member of UA’s immortality club. With your past experience in the kitchen, a new respect toward the man has grown. He was in charge of preparing enough food for hundreds of people. Showing up unannounced for food felt like an invasion. Lunchrush would have little use for American currency. You really should stop at the bank to make an exchange soon. When you arrived at the cafeteria Mic gave your briefcase back, told you to wait while he worked his “magic”. He strolled backward into the kitchen door, finger guns blazing, to the orchestra of scraping metal. Not long after he came out of the kitchen holding two trays. One with a giant bowl and another with four smaller ones on them. You went to help him but he pointed his chin to a nearby table for you to sit. You hurried to the table, pulling one chair out for Mic then going around to the chair closest to the wall for you to sit.

“Lunchrush thought the request was weird for this time of day, but I figured it’d be closer to dinner for you.” Mic put the tray with smaller dishes on his side of the table. Savory steam floated from his food. His tray had savory broth and spring onion with either soft tofu or an onsen egg (it was hard to tell from your angle), plain rice, the fluffiest rolled omelet, and a strip of tender salmon. It was a feast for the eyes and you can almost taste it on your tongue.

You looked at Hizashi before you drooled over the table like a rabid animal. From your angle, it seemed as if there were no side dishes on the tray he was still carrying. His buckling elbow told you the bowl was heavy. “I tried to get your favorite, but you usually brought your own thing when you finally learned to cook for yourself.” He went to place your food on the table. When you reached to grab the tray, Mic pulled it away. You raised your eyebrow at him. The joke would’ve been more funny if your stomach wasn’t clawing inward to digest itself. Hizashi held the tray closer to you, but pulled it away when you tried grabbing it again. 

“Excuse me?”

 You expected him to laugh in your face then give you your meal, but his expression hadn’t changed from the slightly amused smile from earlier. The tray floated further from your reach as the man before you held the tray high like he was the cover model posing for Waiter’s Weekly. Hizashi looked down, his pose statue-esque. “You never said anything about Kaneko visiting you.”

You put your hands under the table. Once shielded under the table, your fingers interlaced firmly. “I didn’t mean to make you look bad, I’m sorry.” You really were, you’d apologize even if the beloved sustenance was in your grasp. Peering up again, the statue pose relaxed, but Hizashi made no moves to hand you the tray. “The case has been a lot, I guess,” you couldn’t truthfully tell him you forgot to say anything.

“Right—it just slipped your mind.” Mic teased with lasers scanning across your body. You stopped leaning over the table and forced yourself to sit straight. The wound became slightly itchy– a small price to pay. Was he going to ask about you calling him? “I’m gonna keep it real, you’ve been forgetting about a lot of things.” 

“I’m not the only one,” you thought, focus gliding to empty tables toward your right until you heard a sigh. 

“You’re talking about Aizawa?” The plastic tray thudded on the table. A treacherous scrap made you wince when Hizashi pulled his chair further out to join you at the table. “I wasn’t trying to blindside you either.” 

Steam curled into the air from the large bowl creating a veil between the two of you. Your fingers laced tighter, expecting Hizashi to say something else. Unless it was your turn to speak. You acknowledge his statement with a small nod. You moved your tray closer to your end of the table, hot vapor hit your face. You looked into the bowl. Hizashi got you a bowl of udon. The noodles were abundant with just enough rich broth, and it was topped with a crazy amount of vegetables and protein—the perfect thing for your current situation. In spite of your hunger, a lump formed in your throat. Most udon wasn’t supposed to include all these toppings, there was only one restaurant you remember including this much food without having to add on. Hizashi wasn’t playing around with what he said earlier. 

“What are we waiting for,” Hizashi asked, breaking the tension. “Let’s eat!” 

The two of you dug into your meals. As experience taught you, eating good food really does help move pain along. When you get the opportunity to combine the nutrients with sleep, you should feel a whole lot better the next time you wake up. 

“How do you feel,” asked Hizashi. 

You hummed with a slight jerk, worried he remembered your end of the call from days ago. When you processed the teasing edge to his voice, you relaxed. 

“Mentor Strife coming out of retirement, didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Mic had a cocky smile. “And after you told me you couldn’t multitask—”

  “Not multitasking.” While you didn’t plan for this to be the mission, the mission is what the mission becomes. In this case the mission is finding Akari and helping Eraser’s students pass their test. The latter is secondary, but you know better than to walk around owing people. “I’m not mentoring students.” The students don’t need one–they already have teachers. “I’m helping them pass a test. That’s it.”  

Mic pouted mockingly toward you and you mirrored him briefly before drinking some broth. “Not gonna stay to celebrate after? That’s cold,” Mic shook his head, pointing his chopsticks at you lightheartedly.

“By the time of the exam, there shouldn’t be a reason why I’m still  at school. I need to finish work here before the hotel bill gets expensive. I want to go back to work soon.”

“Stay at the dorms then! We have all the room in the world. Unless…” Mic trails off, and you already know where this is going. “Personal feelings getting in the way of your job?” 

You drop your spoon into the bowl tight-lipped. “I like my space,” you smiled. 

“Space from who exactly?”

“Children,” you showed your teeth, hoping he’d get the hint. 

 Mic put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You don’t know who’s working at a hotel. Plus there’s more guests day in and day out than a rock festival. If someone knows what they’re doing, they can find what room you’re in. Swipe a keycard and mess with your stuff.”

“You think Akari would do that,” you asked.

“Were we looking at the right scene earlier?” You leaned back and clutched your nonexistent pearls at his sudden outburst. Mic shook his head, “what i’m trying to say is: If Kaneko finds out where you are, it’d be a huge blow to your plan. If you don’t want to stay at the dorms because of your gross personal feelings–” Mic gagged, rolling his eyes back dramatically. Which, admittedly, got a smile out of you. “Then you could stay at my place– it’s not like I’m using it.”

“No way.” You shook your head. “I don’t know what you have there!”

“My apartment’s clean! Cleaner than yours ever was– I remember your–” Mic said a term you didn’t know the meaning of followed by “Disgusting!”

“I wasn’t talking about those.”

“Because you can’t,” Mic interrupted.

You put a finger in the air, “I’m staying at the hotel. The hotel is close to the train station and I’ll have to travel around for the case anyway. If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave my research here.”

“And if Kaneko finds you?”

You leaned back from Hizashi, you grabbed your chopsticks and chose a random topping floating in the broth. Tilting your head, you pondered his question and thought about what the right answer should be. If Akari were standing in front of you, in your hotel room, after everything she did. Looking back up at Mic, you shrugged. “Let her.”

When the meal was done, you and Mic had to go your separate ways for the morning. He had no problem giving you a refresher on gamma’s location, despite your constant reassurances for him not to. As predicted, the directions confused you into taking longer to leave the building. A good general idea based on your memory, turned into a jumble of lefts and rights. Spotting for “this” symbol over “that” one. Somehow to the gym before Eraser and his class. No one was heading out of the school from where you can, either. Trying your luck you pushed the door open, leading to a hallway that seemed to be in an ‘L’ shape. Exploring further, you spotted the double doors leading inside the gym. These doors were locked, however. 

You leaned on the door, not understanding why the class wouldn’t arrive earlier. Didn’t the staff want the first years to get their license as soon as possible? When the time came around for you, you’d rush to one of the training areas whenever you could. The ticking clock on the wall counted the seconds of your growing impatience. It made it hard to focus on your own thoughts. The off white tiles on the floor stretched out into a blurred vision of mind numbing boredom, then there was an aggressive prodding. 

You slid to the floor– no one was near the building. The small hide away surrounding the entrance would be fantastic for cover if villains ever got into the school. The hall was nice and flat too. You could throw a baseball at a good angle, have it bounce off the wall and knock someone out like that one ti— you needed something productive. Taking your phone out of your case, you checked the notifications. Nothing. Then you looked at your laptop. No one was coming yet, you had another twenty minutes, why not check that too? 

Pulling out the laptop, muscle memory took over. It came to a halt when the page wouldn’t load, no connection to the wifi it said. Checking the schools network, you were surprised to know Nezu never changed the password. Refreshing the page, you finally got into your account. The usual night crew should start their shift now. You moved the cursor to your workload and smiled seeing a red circle on your inbox link. When you clicked it you were happy to see you got a message from Gold Rush, the coworker who volunteered to work on the home-side of the case while you were away. Clicking on the message icon, you hoped he could tell you about what he found while you were in the infirmary.

Unfortunately, he just messaged you to say he just clocked in and wanted to see if you landed ok. It wasn’t what you wanted to read, you sighed, but replied about your progress. He put a thumbs up on the message. From there you had to strain your eyes to read the next block of text. Gold planned to take another look around your neighborhood, ask around to see if anyone saw Akari going into the building before your apartment was demolished— check out the damage again, if you were “okay” with it. When it’s over, he’ll send his notes on the last few days before his shift ends. 

Pressing your lips together, you typed “thank you” then stuffed the laptop in your briefcase. Everything should be fine. Gold was the one who found the postcard Akari left when you were out. You worked with him at the agency for years at this point. He pulled his weight and kept up with you fine. He can hold down what little fort is left, while you’re here. Helping hero trainees. 

You closed your eyes, already exhausted at the prospect of standing up again, but you pushed against the floor. Hold onto the wall. Seethe at some sharp pain in your side for a half-second.

See. Everything will be fine. 

How could it not be? 

You stretched your arms out and then walked in circles.  After a minute or two, the pain didn’t hurt as bad. Maybe calories were all you needed. 

Then there was a faint buzzing down your spine. No echoes in the halls. Just a ticking clock and your beating heart.

A jolt.

 It must be a group outside. Eraserhead and his class finally showed– no doubt about it. You went for your briefcase, not taking your eyes off the hallway. When muffled voices reached your ears, you were perfectly in the center holding the case at your side.  There was another jolt, then a surge hit you full swing. The pain was gone and you felt alive. 

What a lively—and/or terrified— group! You forgot how strong teenagers felt about things. Yet again, the last you were around this many of them was when you were a teenager who felt just as strong. If they were told about the exam prior, they’re either rushing to get the ball rolling or having their heart explode over the deadline. 

Turning the corner, the sea of students was technicolor. And louder than you prepped for. You took it all in. First impressions are integral to how citizens, and therefore judges, view a hero. What were you working with?

The boy with glasses looked like a knight with tubes coming out of his legs– a speed quirk probably? You could see civilians going to him to get them somewhere safe. If he was as strong as he looked, he could pack a punch on larger villains on the way out.

Two students reminded you of Present Mic when he was a teenager. Both of them, a boy and a girl wearing jackets that made them look like little rockstars! The boy had an electricity motif going on, so anybody can roughly guess what his power is—and the girl was wearing boots! And they had speakers? She must have a sound quirk like Mic, fantastic! If they play their cards right, they’ll never go broke.

While you can guess the quirk of those three, many students’ quirks were up in the air. One boy, with a nasty scar over his eye, wore a plain, navy blue jumpsuit. Another boy wore one with black, white, and a bit of yellow–who also had a mutation affecting his elbows, but you couldn’t guess what his quirk would be. At least he was stylish.

When it came to the girls' uniforms you were disappointed. The designers were STILL giving trainees heels! How are they supposed to run top speed in busted terrain? Unbelievable! 

Noticing the girls’ inadequate footwear opened the floodgates on the design flaws on the others. Lack of armor and padding on the boy with a giant tail and the girl with pink skin. Lack of support for the tallest girl wearing a unitard exposing her vital organs. She could be like Midnight and need skin exposure, but you doubt the support company has never seen a sports bra before. The worst sin you bore witness to is a short, purple kid wearing a diaper—a self-respecting hero wouldn’t design that!

The students in front of the line stopped chatting among themselves. Some jumped at the sight of you. The rest of the class went quiet as they assessed you, this stranger, standing in the middle of their hallway where you don’t belong.

“I’m not a villain.” 

No one laughed. The students’ expressions were vacant, they probably thought you were a dork. Your finger twitched as you thought of throwing your hand up and peacing out of there. Why did you volunteer for this position? You stood your ground and stared ahead. Judgemental teenagers won’t be the end of your resolve.

Eraser turned the corner, walking ahead of the silent crowd. “You showed up early.”

“I don’t show up late.” 

Toward the end of the line of students Midnight waved at you as she stood with two other men. One looked like a cinder block-snowman, the other had a swanky trenchcoat and bared his teeth. You waved back at your friend, and a few students turned toward the back of the line. Eraser gestured to everyone, Midnight and the other two teachers included, to go inside the Gym. There’s something he had to take care of and he’ll be back in a minute, he said before giving the key to the boy with the knight outfit. The boy took the key with extreme duty, saying he was honored for the responsibility. Nice to know who the energetic one is.

Eraser handed you blue file folders, similar to the ones you put in your briefcase earlier then started walking ahead of you. He explained the folders had the quirks of the students you’re working with. He took you to another door he had to unlock. It was a sharp contrast to the bright hallways from before. Some cobwebs hung from the dim ceiling and the stair railing. This was the type of place a killer would drag a victim to hold them for a few days. When he turned the light switch on, it was still darker than the outside, but not the worst place you’ve been too. 

Eraser approached the table against the wall holding a couple of computer monitors. He set up the tablet he tucked under his arm to the primary computer, explaining how to flip through the cameras. He said you can take notes on the tablet or in folders, but no matter what he’d need the tablet back. If you wanted anything to think over then you’d need to take notes manually, or bust out your own laptop. 

“I know for the best results, you need time to study the students, but try to wrap it up in around the twenty minute mark,” he explained as he finished setting up. He rolled a chair from the right of the table for you to sit. After everything from earlier, it was hard to believe you both were being professional about this. He must really want his class to pass. “Time is short, and there’s a lot to see in-person too.”

You sat, swiveling the chair. “Got it. No loitering,” you tapped the screen experimentally and the camera shifted. Eraser didn’t react to the statement, but you knew better than to expect him too. You were just here for the job.

Eraser asked if you had anything you needed to know anything else. Scanning the room again, you settled on asking where the stairs led. Apparently, it was an observation room. He said you could watch the class up there with you and leave the equipment alone; but he knew for a fact why you wouldn’t. 

You minded your manners and thanked him for setting up for you before he left for his class. You shook your head as the door shut, his class. Just as you said before, he may have been good with children, but Eraser being a teacher voluntarily was weird. Weirder being alone in a secret backroom.

The air brushed against your neck giving you chills. Where you sit, anyone can come behind you from either the stairs or the door if you weren’t mindful. You shifted the position of the chair’s seat toward the blank wall. With the stairwell’s rotation starting on your right and the table being under the “left” portion of the room, you should have better access to see everything that way. 

Soon, Eraser entered Gamma. He talked to his class for a while. Safe to say, it was about the exam. Midnight stepped beside him, her finger pointing in the air, then Cinderblock did the same thing. It was a cult practice. After he spoke, he turned around and walked away from the group. The boy in the knight outfit was giving a reaction to the Smile Man. The man wasn’t opening his mouth though— were they having a psychic conversation? The knight was pleased by what the Smile Man told him. Other students were giving him weird looks, further proving the psychic theory. 

Eraser spoke again and then the towers of rocks grew to the ceiling. Wait… You switch the camera view on one of the monitors and the structures reached 90% of the way to the ceiling. Back on the ground Smile Man threw up and more of himself formed, gross, but whatever gets the job done? The students were used to it at this point, because they were obviously hyped.

Starting now, you have twenty minutes to gather as much intel as possible. You clicked the screen to change the camera as fast as possible. The pink, moth girl worked with a substance oozing from her skin. A shorter boy, with a mutant quirk and a cloak, walked with Smile Man toward a farther corner of the gym to a cave structure. The boy with the tail started battling with a Smile Man and he was doing rather well. His combat skills were up-to-par, something undervalued considering not ALL villains are interested in leveling a city.

You switched the camera and nausea hit the back of your throat. The students were walking up the structures and there were no railings. OSHA would have a field day over these violations. Nausea hit you again when you remembered you’d have to join on said OSHA violations. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Eraser agreed to let you tutor his class to torment you. Like in the second you brought up the quid pro quo, he thought of the best way to make you quit and violate the agreement. Pushing the dread aside, you wrote as many notes on the students as you could before twenty minutes were over.

Fun fact: systems change all the time during American Licensing Exams. It’s part of the reason why first impressions matter so much. A good impression can add points, or prevent you from losing points in deduction-based systems. A bad impression will have the reverse effect, and frame everything someone does negatively. It’s easy to say only technical skills should matter, but you need to expect the people to have poor judgment if you want the students to succeed. 

You looked at the time and saw you had four minutes before close. You rushed to finish your last thoughts on the student– the boy from the file earlier, so you can join everyone at the gym. You thought about what advice you should give to him. It was clear from how he hit he put a lot of thought into strength, but if he could work on his speed— You wrote it all down, but then you heard the most GRATING ring you can imagine coming from your side. You recoiled at the sound and saw the monitors were frozen. The tablet on your side blinded you with harsh, white light. 

You squinted at the tablet, your head starting to hurt from the obnoxious, high pitch. You wanted it to stop. You shot from the chair, yanking the cords out of the device as it beeped at you for a password. On the screen, there was a crude image of two stick figures– an adult and a child. 

Eraser put a parental lock on the tablet.  

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Taglist:

@lonelyghosts-stuff

[mrs-monaghan]

https://twitter.com/Dalto5813/status/1672909844343582720?cxt=HHwWgMDT1fqor7cuAAAA

Shaz, look at their size difference!!

Look i don't like to concentrate too much on how small Jimin's hands are.

I look at JK and how he grabs Jimin's hand like that, and thoughts start getting thunked, okay? (Where's that anon who says what I'm thinking? 😂😂😂) it's kinda hard not to, I'm sorry.

Then I look at Jimin's hand, like, bro that's not even halfway 🤭🤭🤭

Like, Gosh, have u seen Mimi holding a microphone?

His fingers don't meet on the damn mic and u wanna tell me he doesn't use both hands to hold the Jungkonda?? To hold the Jimcock??

I'm sorry guys. Forgive me. I apologise

[sebbiesolace]

*The Walkie Talkie turns on, the sound of something dripping can be heard on the other end.*

“Hello!”

*Oh dear, it’s Parker.*

“I haven’t heard much in the way of anythin’ from the MTFs, so I figured I’d check in.”

*Something or someone makes a gurgling noise.*

“Well, I haven’t exactly left them in much of a condition to say much of anythin’, so I suppose that’s my fault.”

*He sounds like he’s just talking about his music tastes, or a new recipe he’s tried, rather than brutalizing a new victim.*

“Oh- Speaking of, I remember I promised you some toys of your own! I uh- I don’t think these ones ‘re fresh enough, but lets see…”

*The sound of a thump can be heard.*

“Hey, are you dead yet? If not, how do you feel about a trip?”

*More gurgling can be heard, before a choked out response sounds out.*

“Pleashe… Pleashh hllp….”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Didn’t even answer my question! No, no. You deserve better than that.”

“Gak…”

*The sound of shuffling and fingernails struggling to find purchase on the slick floors can be heard…*

*CRACK!*

*… Before a gunshot rings out, silencing the movement.*

“Sorry about that! I must remember to cover up the mic next time, I’m sure the sound’s plain awful. I’ll be sure to find you something nicer, no sense in giving you used merchandise. Ciao!”

*The audio cuts out.*

(OOC: Hello again! I figured I’d just set the stage for another meeting in the future, practice Parker’s voice a bit more, etc.)

[Sebastian was watching the walkie at all times, to the point he literally had it clipped to his scarf. It had been quiet for so long.... He thought that maybe Parker had died. That maybe, he could have peace, he could hide away...]

-KZZT-

[Dripping. Blood. He wasn't dead. He was ALIVE. Saliva welled up in Sebbis mouth. Was he hungry, or was he sickened by what Parker had to say? A claw wrapped around his muzzle, holding it shut. It was his own.]

"Parker- Parker please stop- please-"

[Sharp edges dug into his gums. He tasted blood. His own. It burned. He hadn't pressed the button. Parker hadn't heard him. His stomach hurt. The acrid taste of bile rose in his throat. He picked up the walkie, turning it on on his end.]

"Please- I- I don't want their death to be-"

[A thunk noise rang out as he dropped the walkie. At least the poor MTF was dead.. A cruel end, even for down here. Sebastian darted to the moonpool, crouching over it.]

ooc: HAIIIHIHIHI parker is so silly!!!!

[broughtbackright]

[Video recording begin.]

[The walls of an old, run down shack blur together as someone fumbles with the camera. After a few seconds, they finally turn it towards their face, revealing Ophelia, smiling, her cheeks hole-filled and rotted. Some parts of her jaw and teeth are visible through a few. The visible bones are yellow, and her eyes don’t look quite right, but it’s Ophelia all the same.]

O: Okay, I think I have this set up correctly? Maybe? In all honesty I just wanted to play with the camera.

[A laugh can be heard off to the side, Ophelia’s head snaps in its direction.]

O: What? Can’t a girl take a video without being ridiculed? Shame on you, Cassius.

[Whatever Cassius says in reply is drowned out by Ophelia nearly dropping the phone. Another laugh from Cassius, which earns a playful scowl from Ophelia.] 

O: Jerk.

Cassius: Dork.

O: I’M NOT A– ugh. That’s it, I’m not letting you have the phone today.

C: Aw, come on, Ophelia! How could you do this to your absolute best friend?

O: You’re my only friend.

C: So? Does that mean we can’t still be besties?

O: You got me there. 

[Just then, a loud thunk is heard outside followed by a shout. It's muffled but still loud enough to be picked up by the mic.]

O: HELLO?

[Ophelia rushes over to open the door, the camera switching from her face to the ground, her footsteps sound oddly heavy. The door swings open, and she scans the area.]

O: Is someone there?

?: [Muffled under fabric.] Hi!!!!!

[A hand pops up from the ground, the hand is wearing a glove attached with duct tape, a black jacket covered in dried blood and mud. The person waves.]

O: [Quietly.] No way.

?: [Still muffled.] Ha, that fucking hurt.

[The person sits up, wearing a dark red beanie, a black mask, sunglasses, and a blood stained bandage around the person's throat. The person coughs and grabs at their ribs.]

[Ophelia shrieks and drops the phone, which is seemingly caught by someone else. The taller woman wraps the other in a hug, and picks them up in the process, twirling in a circle.]

O: IT’S YOU! 

?: Um… Wait a second… I know that voice..? Do I?  

O: Don’t you remember me? It’s Ophelia! I’ve missed you so fucking much HOLY SHIT.

?: I… You… I thought you were…

[The person hugs Ophelia, sobbing.]

?: [Between crying.] I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!

O: SAME HERE! Hana, it’s been so long since we’ve seen anyone we know, you have NO idea!

H: 15 years… That’s the last time I saw anyone… um… yeah… haha… Anyway, you uh, you look great! Genuinely!

[Ophelia places Hanako down gently, making sure she can stand on her own before backing up. She giggles.]

O: Hana, I know I look like shit, you don’t have to be polite. 

H: I'm being honest! All things considered, you look great. Um… I'm realizing something. 

[Hanako stands there for a moment, grabbing at the mask on her face and removing it. Dark red blood leaking from part of her mouth, a part of her chin rotted revealing bone and more blood, green skin stitched back on with black thread. Her jaw is slanted to one side, obvious by the holes in her cheek.]

H: Is my jaw fucked up?

O: A little. Come inside, we have room for one more. I’ll help you with your jaw.

H: O- WAIT A GODDAMN MINUTE.

[Hanako removes her glasses, red eyes looking at Ophelia. More bone peeking through at the top of the beanie.]

H: We!? What do you mean we?

O: Oops, erm… hold on. 

[Ophelia turns back towards the camera, mouth open to call for someone, but she notices the phone.]

O: Cass, if you’re trying to be subtle, it’s not working.

C: [Behind the phone.] I’m not trying to be subtle.

H: Oh hey Cassius! Didn't see you ther- WAIT A MINUTE CASSIUS?

O: Yeah, he’s here, its just been the two of us for… how long… Cass, how long?

C: 35 years? We’ve been hermits for a long time. You kept talking about going out, but never followed through. Until like, a few weeks ago or whatever. But yeah, 35 years.

H: Yeah kinda same… I uh until recently I've just been hiding in a wall with Edgar Will and Willy since Melody died.

[Hanako stands there, seemingly after a few seconds something clicks.]

H: I'm talking about mice by the way. Not the… People.

[Ophelia’s shoulders fall, she glances off to the side.]

O: Ah, got a little excited for a second. I guess… 4 out of 5 of us is… good enough?

H: 4 out of 6 if we count Melody? They uh as far as I know hasn't come back.

O: Mm. Yeah. I… hm. Let’s go inside. We can be sad in the comfort of the run-down shack.

[The phone reenters the shack, Ophelia audibly follows.]

H: Ooooooo nice shack! Sorry for. Ok hold on.

[There is a loud crack behind Ophelia, and Hanako laughs.]

H: There we go! Anyway back to what I was saying, sorry for running face first into this place. Kinda uh was being chased.

O: It’s fine. It was a nice surprise. 

[A sudden movement of the phone causes a blur of the wooden walls and the outlines of Hanako and Ophelia to be all the camera picks up for a second. Before it finally rests propped up on a cardboard box.]

H: So um… How have y'all been?

C: Dead tired, but fine.

O: [A groan, before she slumps over in the arm chair she has sat down in.] Cass, you need to stop with that stupid joke.

[Hanako laughs, it lasts a few seconds before coughing loudly.]

O: DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM.

H: I haven't heard a joke in person in 15 years. I've earned that laugh. 

O: [Her tone is playful, showing no sign of genuine annoyance.] Now he’s going to tell more! What have you done, Hana! 

H: Damn.

[Ophelia doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, instead fiddling with a locket around her neck. Opening and closing it very quickly, it appears to be a practiced motion. Something she likely does a lot.]

H: Hm? What's with the locket?

C: [Clearing his throat, an action likely unnecessary, but he does it anyway.] It’s mine, but… I can’t wear it. So she wears it for me. 

H: Oh, that's nice!

O: Yeah, I uh… hm. Sorry for being a bit of a debbie downer right now. Just… 

H: Yeah? What's up?

[Instead of responding, which seems to be something Ophelia would be unable to do anyway, she takes the locket off and opens it, holding it out to Hanako.]

H: Oh… Um…

[Hanako looks at the locket. Getting teary eyed.]

H: Sorry for getting teary eyed, I just… 

O: It’s fine. I think we all just… hm. I don’t know. I just let my heart take over my thoughts for a second. I need to stop letting that happen.

H: No no it's ok! Um… you're fine…

[Hanako sits down, sighing.]

O: I’m just happy we didn’t lose everyone. You’re here, which is… absolutely insane. If I didn’t know better, I’d even say this was a miracle. 

H: Meh… I guess? Sometimes it feels like a curse… Glad to see you though!

O: Yeah, it does feel like a bit of a curse, doesn’t it? The amount of times my legs have given me trouble this week alone is astounding.

H: Hm? What do you mean? Maybe I can help?

O: Doubtful, ha. 

[She pulls up her pant leg, revealing a hunk of scrap metal and wiring. As she does so, it sparks, and she yelps.]

H: Hm. That's uh. Huh.

[Hanako looks intriguing, but also a little annoyed. Looking back at the gloved hand.]

O: They got fucked up in the crash, I had to do something, or else I’d never be able to actually get around. 

H: … crash?

C: That’s how we uh. Died. 

H: … Hm.

[Hanako fiddles with her hair, looking upset.]

O: It was rough, yeah. Sorry if that wasn’t something you wanted to hear.

H: A crash is also how Mel died… Tough subject. Y'know? Crashes?

O: … people need to stop dying in car accidents. Or… bus accidents, in our case.

H: Oh… A bus? Hm… I'm really sorry but the image of a bus doing a backflip entered my mind… Fucking christ…

C: Pfft. With how fucked up my body was, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what fuckin’ happened.

H: Damn… I um… Ok… Can I ask you two something? Off topic… kinda… Just… I can ask you guys about this so…

C: Mhm? What’s up?

H: Do you guys have nightmares about him? About Edgar?

O: Oh, god. Hana… I… 

H: Everytime I try to sleep, I see his face… He keeps screaming for me to help…

[Hanako begins laughing, but also seemingly crying, looking at Ophelia and probably Cassius.]

H: [Between laughing and crying.] I haven't slept in 36 years! I keep seeing him when I try! WHY COULDN’T I FUCKING HELP! IT WASN'T FAIR! I WANT TO SLEEP.

O: [Standing up, moving over to Hanako.] Can I hug you again? I– I think you need it. 

H: [Sobbing.] P- Please?

[Ophelia wraps her arms around Hanako again.]

H: [Muffled sobbing.] Thank you.

C: [Muttered.] Fuck, I should probably turn this off.

H: [Still muffled.] Huh?

C: Ophelia was uh, making a video, god knows why, maybe to upload somewhere…? And we accidentally left it on.

H: [Muffled.] Oh.

C: Yeahhhh, lemme just…

[Recording end.]

[lethxia]

mic with a tongue tattoo. preferably done by aizawa. thoughts are being thunk

[daechwitatamic]

attention 🐱☝️ just wanna say that you're probably my fave author on tumblr rn and if you ever feel like writing a love triangle story it'd be a dream come true thank you very mic for your attention

🫣🫣🫣🫣 omgggggg stooooop I’m blushing 🫣🫣🫣 thank you so much 😭😭😭

A love triangle? The “people in love with the same person” brand, or the “person a loves person b but person b loves person c” brand? Thoughts are being thunk 🤔

[megglepie]

Character ask meme: Mic! specifically, question 4! motifs and symbols

oop iz ALSO asked for mic so i’ll split the questions lolol

2) Widely-held headcanon about them that I reject. 

cis mic? fucking rejected. nonbinary legend only kjhgfdsgh but actually hmm you know that idea that crops up sometimes where aizawa thinks mic is annoying/loud? yeah fuck that, he loves mic just the way he is. i don't see it too often in actual erasermic circles but often enough in other areas of the fandom that it irritates me LOL

3) What were they like as a kid? What was their early life like? 

ok tbh i flip flop a lot

either i hc that mic was in foster care until the year before starting at UA! then he was adopted by his mama and mom 💖 and his experience in foster care wasn’t great (not abusive necessarily, but he had 3 different families before he was adopted and that lack of stability isn’t great for a kid) and he kinda repressed/hid parts of himself (quirk, adhd, queerness, interests) to fit in the way he was expected to. after he was adopted he was able to explore himself more but the insecurities stick anyway

OR his birth parents kept him but didn’t ever bond with him? like, they just weren’t nurturing and kind of kept him at a distance, partially because of resentment reasons (him causing his parents to go deaf) and partially because of work reasons. in this scenario, i hc that he has a relative that he doesn’t see particularly often but is really close to! like an aunt or grandmother 

in either scenario mic grew up without a lot of money and developed his class clown/announcer personas as a coping mechanism for his insecurities surrounding his self-esteem 😔

im just realizing how many baby mic thoughts i actually have khjgfdghj

4) Symbols/motifs that I associate with them–colors, animals, zodiac signs, mythic themes, imagery, objects, etc. 

yellow, birds, bananas, punk fashion, microphones, uhhh again hjgfdsghj not good at associating lol idek whyy 

5) Other characters or types of people I have in mind when I draw and/or write them. 

i’ll be real my art style can be so fucking inconsistent so when i draw characters, they kind of end up looking the way they do as a product of whatever mood i’m in when i start the piece?? like fuck you im queer mic is the product of a sexy gender euphoria meg mood whereas the whataburger erasermic family picture is the product of a wonky restless meg mood. mic’s especially prone to this because i rly rly love him and project on him and just aaaaaaa i just imbue every mic i draw with parts of myself

6) What I project onto them when I draw and/or write them. 

i have adhd, mic has adhd. i’m nonbinary, mic is nonbinary. i want tattoos, i give mic tattoos. i feel sad? i draw sad mic. i’m a simp for aizawa? so is mic. khjgfdsadfghjk

[tr4ggot]

anyways here’s a video i took of theo at the end of my shift

[zeldaseyebrows]

Sacrilege and Sororities „FINAL“? Do you mean you are almost done? 😱

Aaanyway, I want snippets for everything but lets start with Bodyguard ~shot through the heart~ (I just heard that in my head).

🤗🤗

It is getting close... I'm over 100k in and mostly editing now. 😬 I'm super excited to start posting it and am trying to hold off just so that I can have more regular updates for you all. But I might give in and just start posting, we’ll see...

The ~Bodyguard ~shot through the heart~ one I started for whumptober but didn't finish on time, which I think says everything you need to know about that. Technically, it's shot through the lung though. Oof. And I will say that even when writing whump, I’m a sucker for a happy ending so take that as you will.

The premise is a simple modern AU where Zelda is the Queen and Link's been her bodyguard for 10ish years and her best friend for nine- so like an extended version of botw. One night at a gala, there’s an attack and that’s when things get real.

Snippet:

“That sounds great to me.” Link bows his head and extends his hand for Zelda so that he can lead her across the orchard and back into the gala. “And speaking of scandal, we should probably go inside before everyone starts getting frustrated that you’re ditching another gala to talk to your glorified bodyguard.”  

“You’re more than that.” Zelda swallows and takes his hand. “You know, I would always rather talk to you.”

A soft smile lifts his lips at the confession. Then Link’s thumb rubs over her knuckles in a way far too purposeful to be accidental. Something in Zelda’s stomach rises like the bubbles in the champagne she’d been drinking to get through the event. In response, she squeezes his hand.

Link’s dark eyes shine black in the night and he responds in a voice low enough so that his mic won’t pick it up, “I would always rather talk to you, too.”

Leaves crunch under their feet and a gentle sea breeze wafts through the air, but there’s something heavy between each breath. And not because of Link’s hand in hers. It’s something else, something darker. 

Zelda shivers and a sharp thought pierces her mind, Are we alone? 

At something in the shadows, Link’s eyes widen then his face turns to stone.

“Zelda!”

Before she can blink, the world tilts and she hits the damp grass with a familiar body over hers.

“Cover your ears,” Link barks out.

As soon as Zelda does, shots ring out, so close to her that she can feel the vibration and kickback through Link’s body. If Zelda had enough wits about her in the moment, she’d be impressed at how fast Link moved, how he covered her and shot at whatever threat hid in the night before she could even tell what was going on. And at how good his aim is.

But the pressure and the sound and the fear blot out all thoughts in her head just like the stars and moon are snuffed out.

A dull thunk sounds from the copse of apple trees. Another closely follows. Then another.

“Are you okay? Zelda, are you okay?”

[mssjynx]

Mic: ON

dreamnap oneshot 3687 words warnings: steamy!!  ao3 link

-

“Sapnap. Don’t send it.”

Dream’s warning voice held a lot more threat than usual coming through Nick’s headset, and he suspected it was because the two now shared a house. He was all too aware of his friend’s presence only two doors down, and had it just been the two of them, Nick probably would have already given in and saved himself an ass kicking. Dream was a noticeable few inches taller than him, and definitely stronger though Nick would never admit it outloud. 

Nick was good at picking his fights.

Or he was, usually. 

But with Dream in one ear, and Quackity, George and Karl in the other, he was tiptoeing the line of a very pissed off Dream. The three idiots had been egging him on for the past half hour, begging him to send the video since the moment he’d mentioned having it. And he wasn’t actually going to send it, he just really enjoyed stirring Dream up and he knew the other three found it just as funny. 

“Sapnap! Sapnap! Sapnap!” Karl’s chanting overlapped the other two voices, Alex making odd monkey sounds as George laughed himself into hysterics. 

“Send it, Sap! You have to show us, you have to.” George’s words were gasped out between wheezes in his comically high-pitched voice that appeared whenever he was losing his mind laughing at something. 

Nick knew that if any of them laid their eyes on the video, they would never ever get over it. 

He’d captured the valuable video the night prior when Dream had overslept an alarm that he’d set for a recording session with the Among Us crowd. When Nick had crept in there to wake him up, a task he dreaded after the first time he’d done it and successfully pissed Dream off for two full days, he had been met with a sight he never thought he’d see. It was too good to resist flicking out his phone and capturing the moment. 

Dream had been splayed out across the bed, three pillows tucked under his back and his head tipped back off the mattress entirely. A trail of dried drool stained his cheek and his slack mouth was releasing a mix of whistling snores and little snuffling sounds as he slept. His fourth pillow was clutched to his chest in a grip that made Nick feel bad for it, white knuckles making Nick gulp as he crept back out of the room and returned to his Discord call to pass on the disappointing news. 

He had intended to keep the video to himself, locked away in his phone for a later day of humiliation. He hadn’t intended that later day to be the day following but he made the mistake of mentioning the beautiful video and it had all gone downhill from there. 

Karl, George and Alex were relentless when they wanted something, and to say they wanted to see this video was a huge understatement. 

“We need to see it, Sapnap, it’s worth the risk! It’s worth it!” Alex pleaded. 

“The risk!?” Nick snorted, offended by the lack of care. “I’m gonna get my teeth kicked in, Quackity! The risk is my impending death.” 

“It’s worth it, it’s worth it!” 

“Vouch!” 

Karl and Alex were a terrible influence on each other. 

“Guys, Dream’s scawy,” Sapnap said, hoping his baby “uwu” voice would soften Dream’s heart. He knew that whether he sent it or not, Dream was going to kill him for taking it in the first place. 

“You haven’t seen ‘scary’,” Dream muttered and Nick shot a weary glance to the door of his office. There wasn’t even a lock. 

George whined, adding his own baby voice to the mix, and Sapnap could practically see the stupid pout he was wearing when he begged, “Please, Sap. He won’t actually kill you!” 

Dream’s scoff was dry and humourless, “Oh, I will,” and Nick could hear the exhaustion that layered his irritation. He’d been up for over twenty hours editing his upcoming video and keeping the guys company in their streams. He knew that Dream was ready to collapse into bed the second he could, but the risk of his pride held enough weight to keep him upright for the time being. 

Nick almost felt bad for him, except he remembered the horrific photo that Dream had shared with their chat less than a month earlier. 

This was only payback; well, it would be if Nick was actually going to send it. But he was better than that, he was the bigger man and he also valued having all of his teeth and an unbroken nose. 

With a sigh, he reached to click delete on the keyboard to remove the video from the textbox. The ominous ‘Sapnap is typing…’ that sat at the bottom of all of their screens had only added to the excitement (and anger), but he knew that they’d had their fun and it was over. When he tried to snatch up his water bottle at the same time, his device unbalanced in his fingers and the thunk of it hitting the carpet was accompanied by the little “shwoop” sound of a message sending. 

Every voice except Dream’s exploded in the call and Nick froze in his chair.

“Oh god,” he whispered, dropping his bottle and scrambling for his phone. “Oh, no, no, no- I didn’t- It was an accident, I dropped my-” His voice was drowned out by Karl and Alex’s cheering, hysterical laughter pouring from George’s end. Dream’s icon vanished from the call and the slam of a door opening reached Nick’s ears.

Dream’s footsteps were loud and angry.  

“Guys, guys, GUYS!” His bedroom door burst open and Nick threw off his headphones, ripping the cord from his PC as he stumbled out of his chair. The look on Dream’s face made Nick genuinely fear for his life as he backed up away from Dream. 

“Oh my God, he’s so cuuuute!” Karl cooed. George howled with laughter. 

Nick had messed up. He had royally screwed himself, and today was the day he was going to die. “Dream, Clay. It was an accident, I was going to delete it and I dropped my phone and- I wasn’t actually going to send it, I swear. I promise. Pinky promise? What if we hug and make up?” Words tumbled off his tongue with panicked desperation but Nick knew a losing fight when he saw it. “Dream?” he tried weakly when Dream stepped forward, but the stoic glare didn’t shift. 

He could hear Alex calling Dream’s name, futile attempts at rescuing Nick from certain death. But the laughter that drowned him out only sealed his fate.

He was completely and totally done. 

Dream lunged for him and an embarrassingly high-pitched scream ripped from Nick’s throat. He bolted to the bed, clambering over the mattress with his eyes on the open door. But his chances were shot when a rough hand grabbed his ankle, yanking him backwards and off balance. His face slammed into the mattress, cutting off his yelp, and he barely managed to squirm over onto his back before Dream pounced. 

“You’re done, Nick,” Dream snarled, and Nick knew that it was his turn to be mortified. He caught Dream by the upper arms, straining as he kept Dream’s hands just inches away from his own shoulders and face. “You’re such an asshole, I told you not to send it!” 

“I told you,” Nick gasped, his arms aching as he turned his face away from Dream’s clawing fingers, “I didn’t mean to!” 

Dream growled, glaring down at Nick for a second before spitting: “Liar.” and throwing his weight to the side. Nick lost his grip and within seconds Dream had hooked an arm around his back, pinning Nick’s head between his arm and his ribs. The wrestling training Sapnap did back in middle school leapt to the front of his mind as he got his arms around Dream’s middle and tried to push him back. They both grunted and yelped, jabbing fingers into sensitive spots and cursing as they wrestled and fought. 

From the computer, the other three were cheering them on, placing bets back and forth. Except they were all betting on Dream and Nick couldn’t even blame them as he scrambled on top of Dream’s back for half a second before he was thrown off.

A jab to his stomach knocked all the air out of him and in seconds he was flat on his back with his arms pinned either side of his head. He gasped for air, face hot and red from exertion as he blinked his dizzy eyes up at Dream. 

He made a weak attempt at getting one leg between him and Dream, hoping to plant a foot to his chest and shove him back, but Dream shoved his knee down into the muscle of Nick’s thigh and a shot of pain at the pressure cut his escape attempt off.

The grin on his face made Nick’s head spin faster, though he didn’t know whether it was fear or adrenaline that flipped his stomach like a pancake.  

“Dead,” Clay declared, proud and smug as if it was at all a fair fight. He was six foot two for Heaven’s sake. 

“Shut up, you’re such a dick,” Nick spat, craning his head off the mattress. The grip on his wrists tightened and Dream pressed them harder into the mattress, leaning his weight into his knee. Nick yelped in pain, wriggling in a weak attempt of dislodging his roommate. 

Dream scoffed. “Shouldn’t have sent the video, should you?” His sneer was twisted with a satisfied grin and Nick would have been relieved to see that he was more smug than angry if that smile didn’t trigger every fear sensor in Nick’s body. 

“Well, look- Ow- You got me now, so… you don’t have to, uh, kill me or anything! Wouldn’t want you to go to prison now,” he says, awkward chuckle leaving his lips. He hears Karl and George lose it from the computer speakers, quiet but distinct enough to heighten Nick’s irritation. They weren’t helping him at all.  

“No chance.” Dream narrowed his eyes. “I want some sort of compensation. You have to let me post whatever I want from your twitter,” and the crooked grin he wore told Nick that his revenge would be far worse than the five second video of Dream snoring. 

“No way,” he said, shaking his head and yanking on his arms. The taller man leaned his weight onto his wrists and Nick gave up on fighting. “Get off me, Dream.” 

They both ignored the three amigos cheering in the background, this time for Nick’s demise.

Two-faced assholes...

“What’s your password, Nick,” Dream asked, cocking his head to the side with his sly grin. He was, humiliatingly, completely at Dream’s mercy and his stomach twisted at the thought.

It was definitely the first time that they’d been so close to each other; Nick had never been able to see this much detail in Dream’s face. For a moment, he got distracted by the little scar that marred the right side of Clay’s top lip, wondering when and how he’d gotten it. When his lips twitched down into a confused frown, Nick snapped back into the moment with the realisation that he’d been staring at Dream’s mouth. 

He snapped his focus back up to Dream’s eyes, unable to miss the way his brows were creased with thought, and pushed a defensive snarl onto his own mouth as he glared up at Dream. “It’s not happening,” he said bluntly, hoping the embarrassed red of his cheeks could be passed off from their wrestling. 

Dream’s frown deepened with annoyance. “What’s your password, Nick?” he repeated, pressing his thumb hard into the inside of Nick’s wrist. He watched Nick’s face with an intensity that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago, murky green eyes flickering over Nick’s features as searching for something specific. 

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” 

“George, you dick!”

“He’s from Florida, man! He’ll do it!” 

The pressure on Nick’s inner wrist made him grimace and when Nick forced out a rough: “No, Clay,” he squeezed the other wrist harder, pinching the skin. The jolt of pain mixed with the tingle in his fingertips; Nick sucked in a deep breath and bit down hard on his bottom lip as he desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation. 

His train of thought was slammed to a stop when Dream’s eyes snapped down to Nick’s mouth like a magnet, time screeching to a neck-breaking halt. For a moment, neither of them moved. Dream’s grip loosened on Nick’s wrist but he didn’t even consider moving away, unable to focus on anything other than Dream’s gaze locked on his mouth and his own heartbeat slamming in his chest, in his throat, in his head. 

His lip slipped out from between his teeth, and out of reflex, he flicked his tongue to soothe the sting, and he could not ignore the way Dream sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. Nick watched his pupils swell and he couldn’t say anything about Dream’s pink cheeks because he knew his own were just as warm. 

And then it was like a flip was switched. Dream clenched his jaw, eyes flicking back up to Nick’s with a clarity that caught him off guard. “Fine,” Dream said, voice low and even. He stuck his tongue in his cheek for a moment of thought, and Nick tried desperately to keep up with the hidden thoughts behind Dream’s eyes. “Have it your way.” 

Those words ran through Nick’s mind just once, before one wrist was released. Before he could even think to make his escape, rough fingers caught him by the jaw, tipping Nick’s head back as a grin flashed over Dream’s lips. 

Then those lips were on Nick’s. 

Dream kissed him and he kissed him hard, sinking his teeth into Nick’s bottom lip without waiting for a response. The jolt of pain dragged a grunt from Nick’s mouth, and he pressed it up against Dream’s, allowing the thumb on his chin to drag his lips apart. Clay kissed him hard and deep and hot and Nick gave it back just as rough and unforgiving. 

His free hand jumped to the back of Dream’s head, threading fingers through loose blonde hair as he tilted his head up into the kiss. He craned his head up off the mattress, nipping at Dream’s tongue when it flicked his top lip. With a fistful of hair in his hand, he smirked into the kiss and yanked hard, dragging Clay’s mouth off him so he could gasp in a breath of air. 

It was only a moment before Dream caught Nick by the wrist, shoving his hand back down into the mattress. Except this time, he slipped his fingers up, interlocking them with Nick’s as he kissed him. He pressed his tongue past Nick’s lips, growling at the sharp bites Nick delivered in return. 

He’d forgotten about Clay’s knee on his thigh until the pressure vanished, Dream instead using his knee to push Nick’s leg to the side. It only felt natural to drag his knee up, dragging his ankle along the backside of Dream’s legs and pulling on the back of his thigh.

Even when they were kissing, they were fighting. Nick tried to press up against Dream, squirming and yanking on his wrists all the while trying to chase Dream’s tongue back into his own mouth. “Dream,” he growled when the Clay once again blocked Nick’s tongue, shoving his head back down against the mattress.

“Shut up,” Dream snarled, shifting his knee up the mattress between Nick’s legs. It wasn’t close enough and Nick’s underwear was too tight and too hot for him to handle. He bit back an irritated whine, and blushed at the smirk on Dream’s face. 

“You’re such a dick,” Nick bit, squirming when Dream put both of his wrists together and with one hand, held them both down. His other hand caught Nick by the jaw as he scanned the Texan boy’s flushed face and kiss-worried lips, holding him still despite how Nick shifted and fought, wanting to get his hands on Dream’s shoulders, in his shirt, in his hair. 

He was frustratingly intoxicating and Nick could not get enough. Dream who smelt like heat, like sweat and aftershave. Dream who dug his fingertips into Nick’s jaw and chin, grinning while he tilted Nick’s head back so he could kiss him deeper. 

The tongue that pressed into Nick’s mouth was hot and greedy as it teased his own, and Nick could feel the smug glee that oozed from the man above him. “Takes one to know one,” he whispered against Nick’s cheek, before pushing Nick’s head all the way back and dropping his mouth to the curve of his throat. 

Somewhere in the back of Sapnap’s head, he registered that he could still hear the other boys. Their conversation, the video, the fight; it felt so much further away with Dream’s tongue abseiling down his neck, and numbly he wondered if the boys had forgotten they were there. 

The sweet trail of kisses that crept up the side of his neck were followed by a sharp bite to the skin just below Nick’s ear, and he couldn’t stop the cry from spilling from his mouth. Grinning lips and a cruel tongue smothered the stinging pain as Nick groaned; words of: “Fuck you, that hurt,” being followed by a moan he couldn’t bite back when Clay’s hand disappeared from his jaw and reappeared between his legs, pressing flat to Nick’s straining arousal. The flush of pleasure that wasn’t quite enough dragged a helpless whimper from his tongue as Nick tried to grind up into the touch only to have it vanish altogether. “Clay-” he moaned at the greedy sucking on his neck, loud and desperate and without a touch of shame. “Fuck, touch me- Please,” he gasped.

And that right there was his second screw up of the night. 

“Woah, WHAT!?” 

“FUCK, no, my ears!”

“Oh God, oh no, that’s- they’re not fighting anymore, that’s not fighting!” 

The clamour of voices exploded from Nick’s computer, their previous quiet conversation completely forgotten as all three men’s heads were undoubtedly flooded with scenes they didn’t want to imagine, ever. 

Dream vanished from on top of Nick within seconds, bolting to the computer as Nick scrambled to sit upright. His face was burning hot and he could barely catch his breath as he watched Dream smack a few buttons on the computer before rounding on him. 

His own cheeks were flushed bright red and the look of alarm would have made Nick laugh had their situation not been as embarrassing as it was for the both of them. “You didn’t mute your mic!?” Dream demanded and Nick stared back at him in disbelief. 

“What, was I supposed to anticipate that!?” he snapped back, squirming under Dream’s dirty look. He was still embarrassingly turned on from their… activities, and he had no idea what was even going to happen now. 

They were best friends who lived together, not horny teenagers who jumped each other when they got a little bit worked up! 

Dream rubbed his face with his hands, taking a deep breath and holding it. After a second of silence, he let it out with an exhausted laugh, shaking his head as he lifted it to look back over at Nick. “Well, that’s going to be an uncomfortable conversation,” he said simply, and Nick couldn’t help but laugh as well. What else was there to do?

“At least they weren’t streaming,” he offered and Dream snickered at the thought, tapping a few more buttons until the screen went black. Nick dropped back onto the mattress, hands on his face as he took a few breaths. His heart was still racing like crazy, and the pressure between his legs was starting to ache. 

When he pushed back up onto his forearms, dropping a hand to readjust himself as he lifted his gaze to Dream. Sharp, green eyes were locked on him, more specifically his hand, which paused in its movements under the intense stare. 

Nick watched with bated breath as a small smile twisted Dream’s lips, eyes dragging up over Nick as if considering all the things he could do to him. Wondering what was going through Clay’s head made Nick’s stomach drop and head spin. Dream slowly returned to the edge of the bed and Nick sat up further, unsure if he felt more scared of excited by the look in Clay’s eyes. He moved to drag his legs back towards him, but before he could get very far, Dream’s hands were locking onto his ankles, one hard pull dragging Nick to the edge of the mattress. 

He tipped his head back to look up at Dream, biting his tongue when Dream cupped his cheek, running his thumb along his bottom lip. 

“That’s an issue for another day,” Dream said, wetting his lip with his tongue as he tipped Nick’s head back further. He shifted back, arms barely holding him up as he tilted his head away from Dream’s hand. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a nervous laugh dropping from his mouth as he scooted back further. 

Dream nodded, grin unfazed as he crawled onto the mattress. A hand to Nick’s chest pushed him back onto the mattress, another hand sliding up the inside of Nick’s leg. “Yeah,” Dream said, ghosting his fingers over the front of his sweats and watching Nick bite back a whimper. “Kinda busy right now.” He dipped down, capturing Nick’s mouth in another kiss; this one sweeter and softer than any of their others. He coaxed a soft sound from Nick’s throat, sucking his bottom lip and drawing his tongue out to flick against his own. 

“Busy?” Nick gasped when Dream pulled back for a breath, both hands falling to the waistband on Nick’s sweatpants. 

“Yeah,” he said with a sly grin, “Really busy.” 

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

The final match and the wrap-up of the festival. Surely this will be an epic match for the ages, right?

[No. 43 - Todoroki vs. Bakugou]

And we are ready to start the final match-

Alright, so it’s been a hot minute since I bothered with translation stuff, but here I am once again curious enough to spend an hour on this. I’ll keep the summarization short for reading convenience:

All Might poster: 

信用 (shinyou) [confidence, trust, faith, reputation] [credit (finance] 

策 (saku) [scheme, plan, policy, step, means]

In-setting, this is probably some kind of credit plan advertisement. Narratively speaking, however, this could very well be a reference to All Might’s long-term plan to inspire trust and faith in the population by posing as a natural hero, and doing everything he’s been doing. 

I don’t really want to try and tackle anything else here, but I am glad I at least tackled that All Might ad. Anywho, on with the actual plot.

The final match is being televised across the country, with everyone’s eyes on the two as they stare each other down. Katsuki is fired up to win this, while Shouto is much more calm and focused. 

The moment the match starts, Shouto throws out a huge glacier of ice, pretty much as large as the one he engulfed Sero with. Present Mic comments on the gauntlet being thrown down, and how Shouto wants to avoid close combat. Do they have their winner already? Izuku realizes how Shouto had carefully aimed that attack while staying on guard - it’s totally different than when he fought Sero.

And it’s a good thing Shouto stayed on guard, as can be heard in the thunking inside the ice in before Katsuki literally blasts his way out, sending ice shards flying into Shouto’s face. 

Katsuki blocked the ice with an explosions and started digging his way through like a mole. As Katsuki prepares himself for Shouto’s next attack, he thinks on how a strong quirk like Shouto’s means his attacks aren’t that precise. He demonstrates this when he throws himself over Shouto’s head and ice with a well-timed explosion, grabbing Shouto’s hair and shoulder as he flies past him. Izuku is impressed with the move, as is Ochako. 

As Katsuki hits the ground feet-first, he uses his momentum to fling Shouto out towards the edge of the ring while demanding to know if Shouto is looking down on him. Shouto just manages to keep himself in by throwing a ring of ice behind himself to catch him at the edge. However, Katsuki is already rushing in with a wide right hook as he comes in on Shouto’s left side. Shouto responds by just barely dodging the blast, grabbing Katsuki’s arm. Endeavor wants Shouto to use his fire, and I just.

Give me a moment, I want to emphasise how stupid it would have been for Shouto to use his fire in this exact moment, and not even narratively speaking. Like yeah, let’s totally a) give Katsuki x degree burns while also b) setting off all the sweat on his hand/possibly body and c) likely blowing away all of Shouto's defensive ice keeping him from ringing out and d) probably knocking shouto out anyways, since Katsuki has concussion resistance (i'm thinking) and shouto very clearly Does Not.

(facepalms) 

Endeavor, please, you’re a pro hero. You’ve seen Katsuki’s quirk. Please take five seconds and think of how bad that plan would have gone. Please, sir. 

Back to the story. There’s a beat where Katsuki and Shouto both realize the opportunity is there - but then it passes as Katsuki throws himself backwards and out of Shouto’s grip. Katsuki is annoyed he’s apparently not good enough for Shouto’s fire, which, AGAIN, I would like to reference my above rant. Even if on second thought, Katsuki might be heat-resistant enough to take those flames (or at least think he can). 

Aizawa pieces together that Katsuki had timed all his explosions just so he could get caught by Shouto’s left hand. He’s feeling him out. Katsuki’s honing his battle instinct with every fight. Shouto is moving pretty well, too, but his attacks are lacking. He’s lost his drive ever since his match against Izuku. 

Katsuki states that Shouto will regret making a fool of him. He’ll kill him - he’s taking the first to end all firsts! There’s no point in winning against some half-assed punk. No point if he can’t do batter than Deku. So if he’s not trying to win, get the hell out of his face. Why is he even here?

Shouto’s mind is fuzzy static - or at least, the way it panel is formatted makes it seem like it. Which makes sense, considering he’s just had all his personal trauma dredged back up and bouncing around in his head. He mentally apologizes to Katsuki, and that since he fought Izuku, he just doesn’t know what he should do, whether or not what he’s doing is right. He’s not sure about anything anymore. 

As Katsuki throws himself up into the air for another attack, Izuku shouts at Shouto from the stands to not lose. Shouto jolts, teeth grit, and for a moment it seems like he’s found a second wind. Katsuki’s annoyed for just a moment, but then is elated; if Shouto’s gonna fight, fight to win. Katsuki starts spinning himself in a tight circle in the air while Shouto braces himself. Katsuki spins in with the force of a hurricane, while Shouto’s flames start to pick up.

Katsuki’s ultimate attack hits, meeting no resistance. Present Mic notes how Katsuki’s taken that massive firepower he showed in the fight against Ochako and added some spin and oomph to become a human artillery shell. But Shouto doesn’t seem to have fired off that heat blast he showed when fighting Izuku. In the end…

Katsuki’s lying flat on the floor, eyes wide in disbelief as he catches up on what just happened - Shouto snuffed out his flames. And now, he’s well outside the ring, unconscious on top of a pile of ice boulders. 

Honestly, I love how Hori handled this bit right here. The two panels I picked are beautiful bits of storytelling and characterization, and honestly a welcome change from other manga where the character just gets over their trauma all at once. Like you can tell that Shouto is in no place to be using his fire - or even fighting at all. And Shouto, in that instant, recognizes that and accepts that he can’t win here, that he doesn’t even want to win. He just wants the match to be over so he can sit down somewhere and think without being interrupted by everyone and everything. 

Katsuki, however, can’t accept that so easily. He shoves himself onto his feet, stumbling his way over to where Shouto is lying unconscious. He grabs Shouto by the front of his shirt and yanks him up, demanding he stop messing around. He doesn’t want this win, not like this… 

and he passes out from Midnight using her quirk, thumping to the ground next to Shouto.

Honestly, that look in his eyes wasn’t anger, that was distress. Probably distress for once again falling short of his own expectations, for a fight that feels unfinished. I doubt he was actually going to hurt Shouto - at most, he probably would have dropped him back to the ice and tossed a few explosions out at nothing to vent. Which probably would have looked bad, but not NEARLY as bad as what UA is about to pull in the next chapter. 

Izuku looks put out himself, with no idea what to think or feel about this outcome. Midnight confirms that with Shouto out of bounds, Katsuki is the winner. And with that, the competition is concluded. The first-year winner of UA’s sports festival is Bakugou Katsuki of class A.

Even in his sleep, he looks distressed. 

Man, this chapter. Can’t believe we’re only one away from wrapping up the arc. I’ll see y’all tomorrow for the finale. 

[victorian-miner]

Part 2 of things you said with too many miles between us

[Part 1]

“Hi.” From the moment John speaks, the last frantic piece left unanchored inside Paul settles. He’s never really been able to feel entirely at ease onstage without John next to him, something left over from the years they spent singing into the same mic. Now, though the show ended hours ago, the high-energy anxiety finally dissipates.

“Hey, love. Sleep well?” Paul can still hear the echoes of sleepiness in John’s voice; he hopes it’s just because it’s early for John, but he’s not too sure.

John’s hesitance only confirms his fear. “Not too well. It was a late night.”

“Was it?” Paul prompts, adjusting the phone against his ear as he watches Linda leave the room. Most likely to say her own goodnight to Heather and Mary.

“It...well y’see...”

Paul waits. John will tell him, in his own time.

John lets out a long breath, more forceful than a sigh. “I’m stuck on this one song. Or, not just one. It’s the whole fucking thing, really.”

Paul winces. He’s heard that tone of self-deprecation before, in their darkest periods. “John...”

There’s a hitch in John’s breath before he starts speaking that causes something cold and fearful to knot at the base of Paul’s spine. “And if I can’t even write anything then why did I stay? I thought it would be good for me to have some time to myself, but nothing is...I’ve been playing the same chord progression for hours. Hours, Paul.”

“John,” Paul tries again. Normally it’s him who spirals out; of course the first time John’s done so in months is when they have the Atlantic between them.

“And Stel’s lovely but maybe...I mean I think she’d be better off with her parents. I can put her on a plane and she can be in Chicago in a few hours. She misses Heather and Mary too, of course, and it’s not right for-”

“John!”

The other man falls silent, the only indication of his presence the continued crackle of the line. Paul thunks his head softly against the wall. “Breathe for me, love.”

He hears a shuddering whoosh as John lets out the breath he’s been holding, and then waits for the sound to stabilize. “There you go, Johnny. You’re okay. I’m here.” The words seem hollow, the thousands of miles between them suddenly rising up between them. He can picture the way John’s chest is heaving, the flutter of his eyelids, how his fingers are clenched around the receiver. He knows exactly what John looks like now, could draw him as he is now from memory, but he can’t touch him. Paul burns with it.

“Thanks,” John murmurs.

Paul shakes his head. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“Don’t be,” John says, even though they both know he doesn’t mean it. “You’ve put too much into this tour to get out now.”

He’s right. Paul knows he’s right. But John’s all alone in their bed and Paul can hear it, hear how their absence is weighing him down. “We’ve got a three day break after Kansas City. I could-”

“Don’t, Paul.” John sounds exhausted, not in the cozy, sleepy way that Paul longs to hear, but wrung-out, empty. “You won’t leave the kids. You shouldn’t, anyway.”

“They can come!”

“What, you want to fly them to England and then back to the States? They’ll have one night at home and then they’ll have to leave and they’ll be sick with it.” And then, quieter, softer: “Don’t tease me like that. Don’t say you can come when you know you can’t. Even if you did, Lin would have to stay with the kids and it’s not...” He trails off.

It’s not fair. “I know. I know, John.” Paul closes his eyes. “We won’t tour in America anymore.”

John’s silent for a long moment. “What?” The word comes out a little like a croak.

“It’s too far away. The time differences are too much for the kids. It’s not worth it.” This isn’t even the first time he’s thought about it. He knows Linda’s not as big of a fan of touring as he is; it’s not fair to any of them.

John swallows audibly, voice just barely wavering. “Paul, if you’re doing this just for me...”

“So what if I am? Would that be so bad? Would it be the worst thing if someone put John Lennon first?”

John doesn’t say anything. Paul wasn’t really expecting him to. He sighs. “Go on. Play me one of those songs of yours. See if I can help any.”

“It’s not...it’s late for you.”

“Well it’s early for you. We’re even.”

Silence for a long moment, in which he can almost feel the sigh John is holding in, and then Paul hears rustling. “Gotta get the acoustic.”

As he waits, Paul unconsciously starts to bite his nails. He stops with a shake of his head. John’s fine. They’ll work on a song and John will get past this block and they’ll call tomorrow and they’ll be home in a month and they won’t tour outside of Europe anymore and John will be fine.

“‘m back,” John murmurs into the phone. “I can’t be too loud, though, cause Stella’s still asleep. You know how she gets.”

He does, and he smiles involuntarily at the memory of his youngest daughter running around the house at six in the morning. “That’s alright. Just play me what you have.”

John strums once. Paul doesn’t think he’s using a pick, and he mutes the strings before it has a chance to ring out for two long. “Can you hear that?”

“Yessir, loud and clear.” He’s careful to draw a barrier of humor up around them. When he was younger, it was instinctual, subconscious and thoughtless, a natural response to uncomfortable situations. But he’s gotten better at using it to put people at ease.

John snorts. “Okay then.”

The first few bars flow like water kept underground for years, flowing out with a force that Paul lets himself bask in, just for a moment. This is the part he loves, listening to the raw, unshapen creativity that John’s always been so good at. But then John starts to slow, picking uneasily through half a verse until Paul stops him before he can falter entirely.

They push ideas back and forth at each other for awhile, Paul humming what he can’t play and trusting John to remember the bits he takes a liking to. Paul’s listening intently to what might become a countermelody in order to maintain momentum, when a hand brushes his elbow and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Linda stares at him, shocked at his reaction and slightly sheepish. Paul blushes; music and John are not the best recipe for his situational awareness. He reaches out for her hand and draws her close while he holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

After a few more minutes, which Paul spends absent-mindedly twirling Linda’s hair around his fingers, John stops playing. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?” It’s getting later, but Paul’s no stranger to sleepless nights. He’ll stay up as long as John needs him to.

“I know how to write a song, Paul. Did it just fine without you.”

Linda shouldn’t be able to make out John’s words, but she stiffens at the sharpness of his tone all the same. She presses a little closer to hear, and Paul welcomes the contact, grounds himself with the weight of her against him. “I know you can, love,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“No. I know. I’m just...” John pushes air out through his nose. “Tired,” he finishes.

Paul looks at the clock, tilting his head back as he figures out what time it is in England. “You could probably catch another hour, before Stel gets up.”

“Mmm. Might do that.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you, Paul. For...”

“Always, Johnny. You know that?”

“Yeah.” And neither of them bring up how choked he sounds. “Love you.”

Paul smiles, softer than he means to. They’ve been together for a year and a half, but those words from John still manage to make something flutter inside. “You too, love. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Paul waits til John hangs up the phone, then turns his body towards Linda, tucking his head into her shoulder with a sharp exhale. She brings her arms up around him. And then, just as the silence is closing in tight around him, she breaks it. “It’s not right. We should be with him.”

He’s nodding before she even finishes, tightening his grip around her. “I think so too. I was...maybe this should be our last world tour. You know?”

Linda draws back in shock, meeting his eyes. She doesn’t try to disguise the hope that flits across her face. “What?”

“I mean, y’know. We’ll be closer to home, tours will be shorter. It’ll be easier on the kids, if we stay within Europe. Maybe even the UK.”

“I...really?” Linda asks.

Paul winces internally. He should’ve brought this up a long time ago. “Really. What do you think?”

Linda smiles, sunny and mega-watt, and closes the space between them. “I think it’s about time.”

A laugh is startled out of him. “You’ll have to forgive me, love. I’m a bit slow.”

Linda kisses him. “I know, baby. You’re lucky I love you anyway.”

“And thank god for that.”

'things you said' asks

[tonightthestarsalign]

Idk if you're still doing the prompt list but if you are, #12 💗

Okay, you didn’t specify which #12 from the list you wanted. I’ve already done the angst one for Willex and didn’t really know what else to write for that prompt. I decided to combine the other three #12s into a single ficlet. 

So, this is “Give me attention” & “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that” & Against a wall kiss

“Julie.” Luke whines from where he is sitting on her bed. “Pay attention to me.” 

Julie resolutely keeps looking at her chemistry homework, because she can picture the stupidly cute pout on his face and she knows that if she looks she’ll cave. She really, really wants to spend time with Luke, but the homework is due tomorrow and she’d rather not pull an all-nighter once Luke goes home. 

“Jules, come on.” Luke starts throwing pillows and stuffed animals her way. Sometimes he really is like a needy toddler. Julie rolls her eyes.

“You know I have to finish this.” She tells him, her brain half on figuring out the molar mass of orthophosphoric acid. 

“But Jules…” She whirls around and chucks her phone in his direction. It hits his shoulder with a satisfying thunk. 

“Just give me ten minutes to finish this for god’s sake.”

He is quiet for roughly ten seconds. “Am I your lockscreen?” 

“You weren’t ever supposed to see that.” Julie mutters. Because the thing is, her lockscreen is a picture Flynn took at their last gig. It’s Luke, very close to the mic, eyes closed, nose scrunched and brows furrowed and- She is aware that it’s probably not very platonic to have a picture of your best friend as a lockscreen, but she’d seen the picture and just- It’s a gorgeous picture of the guy she’s in love with and- 

“Jules-” He starts quietly, voice all soft and Julie is not willing to listen to him let her down kindly. Because that’s what he will do, he will be all nice and kind and it will break her heart. She bolts from her seat.

“I’m going to get myself something to drink.” She mumbles as she hurries out into the hallway. 

She makes it almost to the staircase when his hand wraps around her wrist. 

“Julie, please. I need you to look at me.” He tells her all soft and Julie backs away towards the wall. She can feel the tears building up and tries to swallow them down. She will not cry in front of him. Her back hits the wall. She refuses to look at him. 

He drops her wrist and his hand is suddenly on her jaw, carefully he lifts her head until their eyes meet. 

“There you are.” He whispers. He leans closer, bracing his free hand against the wall. And Julie knows that technically Luke isn’t all that tall, but right now he is towering over her. She is pretty sure he must hear her heart thundering against her rips. “Julie, I need to know if the reason I am your lockscreen, is the same you’ve been mine for like the past year.” 

“I- Are you-” Julie feels like she’s lost the ground under her feet. Is it possible

“Because we never have to talk about this again if not, but just in case, I think you should know that I am in love with you.” He whispers and Julie is sure, that if it wasn’t for his hand on her, she would just float off.

“Yeah.” She whispers. “I’m in love with you too.” 

The smile she receives at her words is brighter than the sun. 

“I am going to kiss you now, okay?” Luke asks and leans even closer. 

“I’d like that.” Julie whispers and then Luke closes the distance. 

Julie is glad for the wall behind her, because her knees are weak as it is. And Luke, Luke kisses like he makes music. With a single-minded focus that makes electricity shoot through her veins. She slides her hands into the hair at the back of his neck and proceeds to forget the universe.

When they pull back, maybe a minute, maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour later (who can tell? Julie surely can’t), Luke doesn’t go far, instead he keeps their foreheads pressed together. It takes him a moment to open his eyes again. This up close they’re even more green than Julie thought. 

“Fuck, Julie.” His voice is wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

[slightlycrunchy]

For the prompt game! 18 (I'm bad at counting, I hope that's the right one 😆) for BNHA?

Well, if I can count that's “are you equipped to deal with this?” “most likely not.” And if it's not the one you liked, pls send another! No harm done 😛

WC 1200~, rated G, pre-slash young Erasermic, minor descriptions of injury

If anyone had asked Hizashi how he was feeling on this night, he would have said absolutely thrilled.

They’re two years out of UA, Shouta and himself, and not once have they shared a single patrol, their schedules and visibility as heroes branching off down two different paths. It doesn’t hurt Hizashi anymore, not when he sees how fulfilled Shouta’s shadowed and secretive workload makes him feel. He doesn’t talk about it much, but Hizashi knows. Even with the silence Hizashi can see it in the soft set of his mouth, the lines of his posture; Shouta is happy. Hizashi couldn’t want for anything more.

Except to share a damn patrol for once in their lives.

Was he really asking much of the universe? He doesn’t think so, and he knows he’s right when it finally happens, said two years after they’ve graduated. He’s aware it takes a lot for underground agencies to work alongside anyone in the public eye, taking a chance they usually deem unnecessary, but this mission had turned out bigger than they all first thought, a drug bust with multiple circles and drop times all apparently happening at once.

They needed manpower. And Hizashi had never been happier to deliver.

So, if anyone had asked him what he was feeling at the beginning of the night, hopped up on adrenaline and the warmth of the man he absolutely knows he’s in love with beside him, he would have said absolutely thrilled.

He can’t say he would feel the same now.

“Ah-!” Shouta’s cry echoes, ragged and cut off prematurely as Hizashi sees his body disappear behind the roof of a building he isn’t reaching fast enough.

“Sho-- Eraser!”

Hizashi is running, in pursuit of one of the men who had been at the scene when the heroes descended on the old, decrepit house, the fighting breaking out almost immediately. Shouta had seen the guy first, but the weather eye Hizashi kept on his best friend alerted him when the man had fled and Shouta had given chase without a word to the other heroes. Deciding immediately that they would be having words about such an action, Hizashi had followed, feeling that his own backup was better than none.

He watched as Shouta leapt over buildings and swung from gutters, trying to keep up on his own toothpick legs. His lungs had just started burning unbearably when he saw Shouta disappear. He doesn’t even think twice of abandoning the chase to turn to where he saw Shouta disappear, and that might be a problem he’s going to have to deal with later--definitely going to be a problem once his boss hears about it--but he really just doesn’t care about all that.

Not when Shouta needs him.

“Eraser, where are you,” Hizashi calls into the darkness of the alley he decides must be where he lost Shouta, puddles of white reflecting back at him from the overhead street lights hitting leftover puddles from an earlier rainstorm. He doesn’t hear an answer.

His movements become more frantic, eyes squinting to see clearly, coming up on a commercial dumpster that, now looking closer, has a sizeable dent in the plastic lid--

A small moan sounds out from just beyond the receptacle.

“Sho!” he says breathlessly as he rounds the corner in haste, uncaring of his unprofessionalism; Shouta would have his head for it, but that can wait for another time. Assuming there will be another time-- No Hizashi, stop it!

He doesn’t know what to expect when he finally lays eyes on a dark lump, a body, with grey material pooled softly in erratic loops around it. Shouta is on all fours with forehead to the ground, hands fisted on the cracked concrete while his back heaves in controlled breaths, up and down with rhythmic pulls. As Hizashi draws closer, taking a knee to be at the same level as Shouta, he notices he was slightly wrong, however.

One arm alone takes Shouta’s weight, while the other lies limp, sagging slightly at the shoulder as Shouta clearly tries to continue to get up to his feet. As soon as he puts pressure on it, however, a sharp gasp escapes him and his face pinches in pain.

“Don’t move Sho, don’t-- Help is coming.” He’s making that up. Help isn’t coming, the others don’t even know they left!

“It’s just--” Shouta pants, tilting his head up to look into Hizashi’s eyes for the first time, and Hizashi can see the sweat on his skin. Whether it be from pain or exertion though, he isn’t sure. “My shoulder...wrenched it out of place somehow. That’s never happened before…” Shouta trails off, sounding as much aggravated as hurt. Hizashi eyes the capture weapon, left to its own devices on the wet ground. Shouta must feel like he’s been betrayed by the one thing that is meant to assist him in his near-quirkless fighting style. It feels heavy on Hizashi’s chest to think about it.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Do you think it’s just dislocated, Sho? They taught us how to fix that, remember, you just need two people for it!” He says excitedly. He can help! And Shouta won’t have to wait around in tremendous amounts of pain for other ‘help’ that isn’t coming. Hizashi’s eyes are wide with a silent plea, let me do this, come on--

“Yea...yea alright,” Shouta answers, accepting Hizashi’s hand to help him sit against the brick wall behind them, knees tucked to his chest, one falling to the side in his exhaustion. His head thunks back loudly against the brick, and Hizashi winces at the sound. Shouta is done with all of this, he can tell; Hizashi will try to be fast.

“Alright so...I think...elbow at ninety degrees, right?” Hizashi questions, drawing a look of put-upon ire from Shouta. He raises a dark eyebrow.

“Are you equipped to deal with this or not, Mic?” Hizashi smiles at the use of his hero name. He follows it up with a wink.

“Probably not.”

He remembers it all, mostly. Elbow at ninety degrees, very little pressure needed, a slow twist with wrist guided towards the back of the patient--

And with an unsettling crack and one final grunt from Shouta, the joint slides back into place. Hizashi’s face alights with uncontained surprise. “I can’t believe that worked!”

For all that Shouta looks unamused, the stark lack of pain relaxes his features as he looks up at Hizashi who has spread his arms akimbo in his elation. “So happy to have put my shoulder in your capable hands, Mic. Your confidence in yourself is staggering.” A wry grin tugs at one side of his face. It does something weird to Hizashi’s stomach to see.

“Yea, well, I paid attention to some things in class. Give me a little credit, Sho.” He offers his hand for Shouta to grab onto as he pulls him up from the ground. Shouta stumbles a little before steadying himself. He looks at Hizashi from underneath sweat matted bangs.

“I guess it wouldn’t really be our MO if everything went perfect on our first patrol, would it? Good first time, huh?” he says sarcastically in his signature dry tone.

Hizashi’s answering grin stretches across his face. “Wouldn’t trade it for the world, Eraser.”

Send prompts ❤️

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 10

First   Previous   Next: Nonexistent   Ao3

Walking down the hallway, Jason felt his suspicion grow as he recalled the conversation he just had with Marinette. She had been fidgeting while answering his questions, repeated ‘homework’ several times, and given him way too much information when he had asked. All trademark signs of a liar. But why would she lie about having homework? As he mulled over the possibilities, he made his way down to the kitchen where Damian and Tim were (unsurprisingly) arguing. Alfred (surprisingly) was absent, probably doing something in another room. 

Jason thanked whatever power was up there for the small mercy. He didn’t think he could deal with the Alfred Disappointed Stare No. 5 (Trademark and Patent pending) today.

“Hey Demon Brat, Timbers, how’d ya like to do some recon on Pixie?” He called out, enjoying how they both immediately stopped arguing to turn and fix him with incredulous (Tim) and disgusted (Damian) looks. “Have you finally lost your mind, Todd?” Damian asked, fixing him with a derisive stare. 

“Yeah, why would we spy on Mari?” Tim agreed, a puzzled frown on his face. 

“Because she lied to me about doing her homework so that she wouldn’t have to play video games with us.” He responded, regretting it immediately. Only after saying it out loud, did he realize exactly how immature and stupid that sounded.

“Aw, is poor little Jason sad because someone didn’t want to hang out with him?” Tim laughed, tilting his head to the side as if talking to a small child. Next to him, Damian snorted into his cereal, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

“I didn’t mean it like that you little shit, it’s just...suspicious.” He finished lamely, trying to justify his reasoning.

“Besides,” he continued, “if you don’t, I’ll tell Alfred about that time you mixed Mountain Dew and two energy drinks into a large coffee with five shots of espresso just so that you could stay awake long enough to spite B.” 

“Drake you imbecile!” Damian shouted, turning to glare at Tim. “How could you be so vulnerable as to allow him to discover your secrets?!” 

Tim just looked at him in horror, eyes wide in shock. “You wouldn’t.” He gasped.

“Try me fucker!” Jason shot back triumphantly, knowing he’d won.

“Fine.” He groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a thunk. 

“As for you, Gremlin, if you don’t help I’ll show everyone the picture of you wearing your Nightwing pajamas and sleeping with that Batman plushie from three years ago.”

Damian turned his glare from Tim to Jason, the heat of a thousand hells burning in his furious gaze. “How dare you bring that up, Todd!” He snarled, seething with rage. “I will break your shins and use them to cut out your lying tongue!”

Jason simply rolled his eyes, too used to the threats to be bothered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, brat. Can you just hurry the fuck up?” 

Damian’s glare somehow managed to intensify, but he still got up off his stool and stomped reluctantly over to him. Tim took his time finishing the rest of his coffee before flipping him off out of spite, and then walking over to them as well.

“Alright, so how are we doing this?” He questioned, looking expectantly at Jason.

“I don’t know, Timbers, you’re the genius. You tell us what you think you should do.” He drawled.

Tim glared at him, but refused to respond, brain already whirring as it came up with solutions. “Well vents are definitely out of the question, but I think there might be some secret passages in the manor we can use. We’ll have to look at the blueprints.” He sighed. “Remind me why I'm doing this again?”

“Because, Drake, he has blackmail.” Damian scoffed, still scowling at Jason.

“Yeah well in case you haven’t noticed, I have dirt on you too, kid.” Jason responded, rolling his eyes. 

“And anyway, Drake.” Damian continued, steadfastly ignoring his words. “Your idea is unreasonably complicated. We are dealing with a civilian, and she is incapacitated, so there is no need for you to devise such an intricate plan.” 

“Damn, Demon, you’re making it sound like we’re planning on murdering her after we already tortured her and cut off a limb or some shit. She just has an ankle boot, calm the fuck down.”

“Damian, you do have a point. Her room has a balcony, so if one of us can distract her long enough the other can climb up there and plant a bug in her room. But we’ll have to take it out after we make sure she’s not doing anything suspicious. We can’t just invade her privacy like that.” Tim conceded, contemplating the merit of the younger’s suggestion.

“You say that like we haven’t already hacked her fucking phone and listened to her calls.” Jason snarked back. “But yeah, we should take it back after we check.”

“Alright let us begin, you fools. I have no desire to be under your power any longer than I have to, Todd.”

Tim went to his room to grab one of the listening devices he had stashed there, while Damian and Jason fought over who was going to be the bait. 

“I can’t do it, I already fucking talked to her today, so it’d be suspicious!”

“Well me and Dupain-Cheng are merely acquaintances at best, and besides, I clearly have the more superior skill when it comes to stealth.”

“You little shit! I can totally be stealthy!” 

“The volume at which you are shouting begs to differ.”

“Oh shut the fuck u-”

“Enough!” Tim shouted, having heard their raised voices even before he had rounded the corner. “I’ll be the distraction, Damian’s the ninja, Jason you just listen to the feed since you’re so suspicious of Marinette.” 

“Fine.” Jason grumbled.

“That is an adequate arrangement, Drake.” Damian aquesied, looking as though it physically pained him to make such a statement.

“Whatever.” Tim rolled his eyes, already heading up to Marinette’s room. Damian slipped off in another direction, presumably to make the two-story climb to her balcony, and Jason sat down and opened up the laptop to connect to the live feed from Tim’s listening device. 

---

Tim knocked on Marinette’s door and waited. He heard what sounded like a crash, a thud, and a muffled curse. “You can come in!” She called out, sounded flustered and out of breath.

He opened the door cautiously and stepped in. Her desk chair was lying on the floor and some notebooks were spread out on the ground nearby. It looked as though she had fallen out of her chair when she heard his knock. But why would she be so startled? 

She was looking at him expectantly, and he remembered he was supposed to be distracting her. 

“Oh hey Marinette, I remember you saying last month that you liked to design,” he began, flashing her a faux-hesitant smile. 

“Um yeah, I do like designing. Why?” She questioned, looking at him strangely.

Time to tone up the acting.

“Well, I know it’s already the beginning of October, but I was wondering if you could help me make a couples Halloween costume?” He asked, giving her a sheepish look, and infusing the barest undertone of hope into his voice.

At the mention of costumes, she immediately perked up, looking a bit more invested in what he was saying. 

“Sure! Who’s it for, though?” 

Tim facepalmed mentally, forgetting that she had only been with them for two months, and hadn’t met Kon yet. 

“Oh, it’s for me and my boyfriend, Conner.” He laughed, “I guess it never really came up, but yeah, I’m bisexual and cassgender.”

Marinette smiled blindingly up at him. “So what did you have in mind for your costume?” 

At that, Tim stalled. It wouldn’t exactly hurt to have matching costumes for Halloween, would it? He did have a few ideas, but he didn’t know if Kon would like them. 

He must’ve voiced his thoughts out loud, because Marinette just grinned and said “How about you talk to your boyfriend and see what he has to say about matching costumes, and then I can design something for you?”

Internally, Tim began panicking. Why was he becoming so invested in this bullshit excuse? It’s not like he was actually going to dress up for Halloween. His plans were to eat chocolate covered espresso beans, watch shitty movies with Kon, and then go on patrol until 3 AM and write reports until he passed out from eventual sleep deprivation. Fuck Jason and his stupid suspicions. Now I have to actually put effort into my appearance. Isn’t putting on a suit for meetings at WE enough in the dress up department? Ugh.

But all he said was a quick “Sure! I’ll ask him what he thinks, and let you know.” Before turning and walking back down the hallway. I hope Damian had enough time to put the bug in there. He thought as he plopped down next to Jason on the couch. 

Less than a minute later, Damian was there, a triumphant smirk on his face as he settled in next to them to listen. There was a quiet crackle of static as the mic synched up, and then they were able to hear everything that was going on.

---

After Tim left, Marinette closed the door with a sigh. “Why me?” She sighed, looking over at her fallen desk chair and the scattered notes spread out across her floor. With a grunt, she picked it up and pushed it back over to her desk before bending down and collecting the scattered papers. Walk/hobbling back to her seat, she collapsed into her chair with a groan before turning back to the evil worksheet sitting innocently on her desk. “Fuck math. Who in the world decided we needed to study freaking triangles to pass highschool?!” 

With another sigh, she picked up her pencil and went back to working. 

Not even five minutes later, she slammed her palm down on the table and stood up, cursing creatively in Mandarin. 

“Stupid fucking bitch ass piece of shit! Does it look like I care if sine squared plus cosine squared equals one?! Does it look like I need to leard this stupid shit to become a fashion designer?! Newsflash I don’t, so why the hell do I have to study this absolutely confusing stuff!”

She shouted, glaring furiously at the question she had just come across. “I really, really, really hate math sometimes.” She said, switching back to English. 

Pulling out her phone, she clicked on something before raising it to her ear with an exhausted sob/groan. 

“Hey Buginette, how’s Gotham?” The familiar voice of her best friend/brother greeted her.

“Adrieeeen.” She whined in French. “Help meeeee.”

“Is it Math again?” He laughed, sensing her problem.

“Stop laughing!” She pouted. “It's really hard and I can’t call Max because Max hates me, actually everyone hates me, and now I want to cry, but I don’t have time to cry properly, so can you please just help?” Her eyes began to burn, and she swallowed around the tightness in her chest. “Ignore that. Just...remind me how to do this again?”

“We are coming back to this,” Adrien informed her sternly, “But I’ll let it go for now. So what you want to do is…”

---

Tim shut the laptop lid and glared at Jason reproachfully. “You happy now, Jay? She wasn’t being suspicious, she was actually doing her homework. And now we heard her have a small breakdown over math, and then another one over how her friends hate her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take that bug back, and go do my work.” And with that he stalked off.

“Tt. Your concerns were unfounded, Todd.” Damian scowled, also getting up. “I am going to feed BatCow.”

Before Jason could reply, he had left, disappearing to go play with his pets. 

Slumping back on the couch cushions, Jason let out an aggravated sigh and ran a rough hand through his hair. There was something strange about Marinette, and whatever it was, he was going to figure it out.

---

@laurcad123, @liquid-luck-00, @toodaloo-kangaroo

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

P S Y C H (ch.2)

Notice: A lot of these chapters will pretty much be the plot of the manga just adjusted to be part of [Name]’s POV.

Warnings: Swearing, religious themes, violence, mediocre writing. references to other anime

Previous // Next

“This is hideous” [Name] thought aloud as he put on a cheap track suit his mother packed for him that morning. She said it was warm and stretchy and since he just needed something comfortable and convenient to wear he went along with it. For like the 15th time in one day he was honestly regretting the decision to become a hero. [Name] wasn’t exactly one to put tremendous efforts towards something if moderate effort would do. After all he was only becoming a hero for fun.

“And Begin”

[Name] didn’t move a muscle. Everyone around him stood still as well looking confused but [Name] knew what present mic expected of them, he just didn’t really run all that much. There were two parts to his plan of attack. First he’d let everyone in to do some minor damage. That would prevent them from trampling over him in a rush to get into the training grounds AND he wouldn’t have to run. Bonus is that they would make a mess destroying their surroundings and leaving scraps of robots around. That’s the essential part.

“What’s wrong? The test has started. Run! Run! The die has been cast”

The telekinetic gave everyone a two minute head start as he wrapped up his wrist just in case. When the two minutes ran out he raised his arms almost like he was about to do jumping jacks or flap his arms and take flight but kept his palms facing the ground. He then pushed downward and activated his telekinesis, hands and eyes glowing golden as he was launched in the air. Shooting over most of the kids near the entrance [Name] spotted three 2 pointers heading towards one area of the training grounds.

‘This is it’ he thought and let himself freefall landing in a superhero pose he’d been practicing. His landing was so strong he accidentally destroyed one of the robots upon impact.

“Aww man” [Name] whined. The other two pointers turned their attention onto what they thought was their new prey but [Name] just flicked his left wrist in a weird scooping motion that launched the remains of the destroyed robot at the remaining two. One of the 2 pointers had a robotic arm sticking out of its chest where its heart should be and the other got its head taken off from the force of the scraps that [Name] had launched through the air. [Name] levitated himself back into the air and started the search and destroy process over again.

Eventually he had gotten 50 points which he guessed was enough to get into 1A and spent the rest of his time telekinetically juggling rubble he’d lifted off of people before they were crushed to death. Some people thought he was just showing off and in a way he was, but others sincerely thanked him to which he just responded “What kind of a hero would I be if I didn’t help those in need”. It was a cliche statement but one he actually believed.

Apparently he was in the same training grounds as the blonde bombshell from earlier which was kind of a disappointment considering [Name] wanted to see All Might’s successor in action, but not too much because he liked how the blonde moved throughout the air. [Name] was definitely gonna copy some of those moves and make them his own.

There was no action until the zero pointer came. Blondie surprised [Name] when he retreated but it turns out Bakugou had only cared about destroying robots worth points. It honestly made sense to [Name] but he stayed nearby the zero pointer making sure to stay out of its eyesight. As the zero pointer stomped through the training grounds [name] would make snatching motions in the air as he dragged people out of its path. Saving dumbasses who were frozen in shock was a lot easier than expending the energy needed to take down the massive robot.

“IT’S ALL OVER!!!” Present Mic resounded. [Name] was gonna send that man to see god one day. He walked off the field unsure where he was in terms of ranking but he knew he’d hear back from UA soon. In the meantime he was gonna go get a matcha latte and some aspirin. Quirk drawbacks fucking suck.

“[Name] how do you think you did on the entrance exams” There was a loud thunk coming from his room as [Name] dropped some dumbbells. The ones in his hands and the ones he was lifting with his quirk

“That was like two weeks ago. Why ask now?” he called back to his mom

“Can you just answer the question”

“I mean- fine I guess. I’m sure I got in”

“That’s good because the letter is here. It’s kind of light so I was a little scared”

“Are you saying you don’t believe in me?”

“That’s not what I said but if the shoe fits, be back by midnight cinderella”

“Can you just bring me the envelope?”

[Mo.Name] giggled at their banter before walking to [Name]’s door which was actually opened for once. He must be a little more curious than he’s pretending to be.

“Here’s you letter young master”

“Whatever” [Name] snorted as he sat down on his bed to open up the letter. When he saw his mom lingering in the hallway he got up and closed his door, sticking his tongue out at his mother as she vanished behind the closing door. He could hear her thoughts as clear as day. Apparently it had something to do with their emotional connection but whenever they were thinking of each other fondly there was a two way link connecting their minds. It got annoying because she’d tease him about how much he loved her though he pretended not to like a teenage tsundere. Or honestly a normal teenager at that.

Though nervous, [Name] opened the letter with no hesitation and saw that it was some projector thing. He couldn’t figure out how to work the thing so he lifted it telekinetically and still couldn’t figure anything out. In a moment of frustration he grabbed it out of the air and threw it on his bed(so it wouldn’t break) while shouting at the thing to turn on and was shocked to see Present Mic cheerfully greeting him as he went through the results of [Name]’s test. He’d passed the written test with pretty good scores and apparently ranked number one with 50 villain points and 30 rescue points.

“Great now I’m the one to beat”

[Name] who knew just how excitable his mom could get had his hardest challenge yet. Avoiding her hugs after sharing the results. She wasn’t always as accepting and welcoming of his choices but she loved him enough to make an effort. She was proud of him for walking the path to become a hero but years earlier she would’ve scolded him for choosing to enroll so late and not trying for something practical like pursuing some career that would require further schooling past high school graduation. Now? He’d have to barricade his door with furniture and psychic energy. She was a powerful empath and if he’d let her get close enough to touch they would both burst into tears.

When his room was fully fortified [Name] picked up his phone and dialed his mother.

“I got in”