#v; Those without potential will be deemed unfit. [Main verse]

[erasureeyes-blog]

         starter for @jealousyridden

   It’s been... interesting circumstances having someone quite like Yukako around the school. An odd decision, maybe, and he’s been keeping an eye on her as she’s settled into this life rather than her last. She doesn’t strike him as having the same kind of fire that some of the others do about becoming a hero, but there is definitely fire there. 

   There is much to be gleaned from observation, but there is also something to be said about simply asking someone something - which is how he finds himself stopping in the hallway to speak with her. Not hard to manage, she’s on her own here more often than most. “How has adjusting been going?” 

[erasureeyes-blog]

      starter for @14hnds

   Oddly enough, despite the fact that it’s around two in the morning, he isn’t quite as tired as he normally is. Generally, he chalks that up to essentially functioning semi-nocturnally and also maybe the nap he had earlier today. Now, he finds himself perched up on the corner of a decently tall building’s roof, overseeing the street corner below. 

   There isn’t too much activity at this time, but every populated area has some kind of nightlife, and cities most of all. There isn’t much to see in terms of what he’s looking for ( namely, trouble ), but it’s about time for him to go take his patrol route, so he stands.

   Half-turning, he puts one foot up on the raised edge of the roof, only to stop upon noticing something else on a different building further down the street ( something he might’ve missed just based on angle alone if he’d not been up here ). A person. Dark clothes, blue hair. Is that? No Kurogiri or Noumu with them. Strange, but Tomura has been known to go off on his own before. 

[erasureeyes-blog]

@presentcockatoomic moved from here

   Aizawa probably should have guessed that something like this would happen after a few drinks with Hizashi, considering he knows that the blonde can’t hold their liquor all that well. All told, he probably should have gotten the bartender to cut him off a drink or so ago. 

   Even so, he hadn’t expected the other to be so suddenly affectionate while drunk, and he certainly wouldn’t have expected them to just plop into his lap like so. The combination of Hizashi’s incapacity to keep himself to a normal volume combined with the undoubtedly interesting sight they made would be enough to turn one or two heads ( though, somehow, he came to the conclusion that Hizashi either didn’t notice or care very much right then ). Add that on top of the position he now found himself in with his friend’s words, and it was enough to make his cheeks start to burn under Mic’s semi-gloved touch.     “--Zashi.” At that point, Aizawa’s hand left his glass on the table and came up to take the other’s hands to pull them away. His voice, in stark contrast to the other’s, was lowered and somewhat urgent. “Stop it, you’re going to cause a scene.” 

[erasureeyes-blog]

A discord-inspired starter for @watashi-ga-kita

         Four hours.    Surprisingly enough, there isn’t much to do--- aside from checking on some of those dastardly children at this point. They’re all fine, or will be soon enough.     He finds himself left with his thoughts... and there are many pieces of information to sift through in his mind, little pieces of a puzzle that had been missing for some time now, fitting perfectly in the gaps and better revealing a bigger picture. Secrets are prevalent in his thoughts, festering there as he turned facts over in his mind, this way and that, deciphering precisely what they mean or lead to. The facts are simple, the implications are not.    Eventually, he finds his way home, where the activity buzzing in his head doesn’t stop still, but he finds solace in two smaller presences. Their quiet, rumbling purrs do well to serve as a white noise background.          Three hours.       The shift in his thoughts is triggered by a nearly quiet thrum and an address.     Glancing at it, he sets his phone off to the side to remain mostly unacknowledged for the time being, abandoned and to be mostly ignored. He doesn’t really need to look at it again to remember, though he does spare a moment to think out a potential route. Hm.    Beyond that, his thoughts become preoccupied with a little, siren-like voice. Dinner date. Repeated, over and over, like a serpent’s whisper in his ear - only worse, because sound could be blocked out whereas the mind itself cannot. Was it ambiguous wording? Technically, yes, but- well. Hm. He’d been a little bit distracted at the time of the call, but the second one worked in tandem as a reference with his memory, the latter of which is generally pretty reliable about... most things.              The voice on the other end of the line has been pretty nervous.                   Or ‘bashful,’ as the black-haired woman ( ‘Nana,’ he reminds himself ) had put it.                          He can be rather blind on this subject, but suddenly it seems painfully obvious.          What, then, did he make of it?    Truthfully, he wasn’t very sure. He would probably be one of the first to say that he doesn’t exactly go looking for that kind of thing. He might also admit that he wouldn’t know romantic intent or what it felt like if it literally bit him. Right now he kind of just feels like he has a stomachache, just the kind that’s settled more in the gut, like an annoying lump.    What the hell does that mean?                   Idly, he reminds himself of the other intent behind the... date.    Thinking about it makes him wince a little, and hindsight tells him that he’d acted exceptionally rashly on numerous counts - and it also tells him now that perhaps the snapshots had happened because of... well.       He doesn’t know how he feels about that either--.                       Enough.          He starts grading papers - to stop sitting here wasting time and to give himself something else to think about and do.          Two hours.    Grading papers proves to be more challenging than it has any right to be. Part of that is because the little black kitten he’s currently taking care of keeps trying to bite the papers and every time he scoots them gently away, they think it’s a game. At some point, he simply picks up the kitten and tucks them into his scarf to sit there because that usually calms them down, oddly enough. It works.    Getting rid of the feline distraction speeds up the process, but not entirely. His mind won’t fucking shut up. He’s starting to think he has a problem. He can’t go on with this kind of hindrance to his work for very long, he’ll have to confront the issue at some point.    Eventually, he asks Skimble for their point of view, as they are a wise and impartial judge. He receives a meow in answer and what he’s pretty sure passes for what would be a shrewd look from a feline. He nods and accepts this, even though it really doesn’t help. Petting the cat is at least calming, though, so he settles for that for a while.          One hour.    All at once, his sensibility is confronted by what he might be doing in preparation. What... should he be doing, anyway?     Setting the little kitten down somewhere on the floor to let it waddle off, Shouta leaves it in the care of the older feline and sets himself to figuring out this conundrum, whilst also being aware that he needs to allot time towards actually getting to his destination when he doesn’t have anything but his own feet to get him where he needs to go. He’s sure this is fine, however, because getting ready for anything never takes him long.     He deliberates his choices for only but so long before settling on wearing something simple. And comfortable. And warm. Simple dark pants and a grey loose-fitting sweater that he’s pretty sure will be fine. In addition, he trades out his typical capture weapon scarf for a more proper scarf, which just happens to harbor a galaxy resemblance and is perhaps the only source of actual color on him.    Leaving his apartment behind, he makes sure that the cats within will be fine on their own and that they have ample food of their own before heading out. He’s pretty sure he has plenty of time left after finally scooping his phone off it’s abandoned corner of a table.    He finally gets around to checking but not replying to any messages as he walks.          Three minutes.    Well. He made it with a little bit of time to spare, which is mostly a testament to his knowledge of the layout of the city and thus knowing better routes to take.     Thus, he is confronted with a door.       Should he wait? He is early.          ...that seems a little stupid.             He only waits as long as it takes for his breathing to steady, which is perhaps a minute, before simply knocking and then promptly shoving his hands in his pockets.

[erasureeyes-blog]

 @presentcockatoomic​ moved from here

   Shouta knew Hizashi more than well enough to know that they were given to random fanciful and harmless whims, such as blasting some music and dancing around the room to their heart’s content. Previously leaning back against the other’s couch he was lounging on, his head lifted to follow their movements with mild, languid amusement. Only, the other did not proceed quite as expected, but approached him instead to take a knee lifting his hand to their lips.    The unexpected gesture and subsequent request was met with a couple quick blinks before his gaze slid sideways, just bashful enough to look away. Whether it was because of the kiss or the question and the response he had before it was even given, one couldn’t be sure.     “I don’t know how to dance.” It could pass for an easy excuse for most people, or simply an insecure statement about one’s own abilities, but it was the blatant truth in this case. Why would Shouta have ever wanted or needed to learn? When would he have ever learned, for that matter? A school dance? No. He’d never had the inclination, much less the time, for such frivolities, not even when he was younger.

[erasureeyes-blog]

starter for @warptouch​

   Oddly enough, Eraser was released from the hospital to roam around before Thirteen had, though perhaps that was in part due to his irritable nature and his lack of wanting to lay around in a hospital bed all day when he could still at least be getting some things done.           That - and Thirteen’s injuries at USJ had been of a... different nature.                                There are quirks that can easily kill.    Thirteen themself had said as much and has always been conscious of that fact, Eraser knew that very well. They had been lucky that Thirteen hadn’t accidentally been completely taken out by their own ability. They would recover... in due time.    Aizawa himself had been worried more for the other than about himself when he’d learned of Thirteen’s injuries after USJ, but he hadn’t had much of a chance to go and visit them due to his own state and recent events and all the reactions to them  ( like the school’s upped security ) until now. He’d only had the news of their current state from other people to go off of and it was eating him up inside. If he’d only been able to stop the warp-user from being able to get to them and the kids, perhaps things would have gone very differently for all of them.    Luckily, he’d heard from one of the nurses at the hospital that Thirteen was on the mend and awake and that he’d be able to visit now while he has the time. They’d also given him a very worried look at his own bandaged state, which Eraser promptly ignored in favor of going off to find the right room in which Thirteen lies.    When he found it, he used his good hand to knock lightly on the door before opening it to step inside, closing it quietly behind himself. “Thirteen?” It wouldn’t take long for his solemn gaze to fall on the other hero. It felt so odd nowadays to see them without their costume on, or even their helmet. “I brought you something.” As they spoke, they held up a bag, probably recognizable to Thirteen as their own case for a small laptop they usually used for work. “I hope you don’t mind that I maybe broke into your apartment, but I figured you could use some entertainment while you’re stuck here, so I brought some of your DVDs with the kind of nature documentaries you like so much... and I also fed your demon cat while I was there.”

[erasureeyes-blog]

@presentcockatoomic​ moved from here 

   Perhaps, if he’d been thinking more when the words had left his mouth, the cold coiling of sudden and very immediate regret that he felt in his gut wouldn’t be there. The moment would have passed in silence and his ( intrusive ) thoughts would have remained inside his own head. God, I’m an idiot. Instinctively, he had gone to try and divert the sudden topic that he’d brought about with the wave of his hand and a few rushed words, already in the process of rapidly re-building the unexpectedly shattered wall with firm resolution. I shouldn’t have said that.    Hizashi caught his hand, though, stalling the re-building of the wall in the same instant and bringing diverted eyes back to meet unerring, ringed green ones. Conflicting thoughts come to battle in his head as he freezes completely, somewhat akin to a deer in rapidly approaching headlights.    On some level, he knows his trepidation is somewhat unfounded - this is Hizashi. They’re a loud-mouthed goof half the time, but they’re also the same Hizashi who would have physically fought someone in their younger years for trying to even so much as insult him for one reason or another. He could recall at least one instance in which he’d had to hold them back from doing just that. He knew they cared. It was silly of him to think that talking to them about pretty much anything would be out of the question at this point, after how long he’d known them. The truly sad thing is that this isn’t even the first time he’s had that same, more logical, thought - and yet here he is confronted with it again.    On that same note, however, maybe that was precisely the reason why he’d never really brought up most of this kind of thing with them. The blonde across from him now, without a doubt, knew some things about Aizawa’s previous homelife, but there were many things he kept to himself - and some that he himself didn’t even remember properly until years and years later. Memories, over time, resurfaced when he thought he’d gotten past everything, like dark stains showing up only when cast under a certain light.    Slowly, he comes to the realization that he’s been staring at Mic for far longer than necessary, mouth hinged open slightly, and he collects himself somewhat, swallowing the lump in his throat.              A wall half-built is hardly a functioning wall at all.    “I-” He starts off oddly louder than normal, though his voice trails off in an instant. A million thoughts run through his mind at once, but none of them seem sufficient enough to actually say, particularly with his uncertainly about the whole topic being broached at all. The writhing, uncomfortable feeling of doubt clenched tighter.    Eventually, his gaze falls to the link between them where Hizashi still holds his wrist, the connected hand having gone mostly limp aside from holding itself aloft. His voice lowers to a something akin to a quiet murmur. “You know... I don’t think he even watched the Sports Festival that first year.” It’s easier this way, to leave things to what his words implied rather than say it outright. It’s irrational too, but he can’t help it.    He’d thought, he’d thought, he’d thought-- that the person he’d sought acceptance and approval from would have finally been proud, finally been happy, finally been.... something after that day. He’d been exhausted, both physically and mentally, but his hopes had been raised so high. Everyone, everyone, everyone-- had been so encouraging and congratulating, his teenage mind had been unabashed for one moment, enough to initiate a brief conversation with a relative that hadn’t. even. been. watching. Hadn’t cared at all. After everything, all the hard work and the blood, sweat, and tears, his brief but potent hopes had crumbled to dust under careless words. A memory that seemed so strong to him now hadn’t even come to him - been available to him - for years, only to resurface now. Why?    Shouta knew in his more logical thoughts that this didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered. He hadn’t even seen the man in... a decade or so. He had been thoroughly detached from them, even. So why did it bug him so much, despite that? He wished he could answer that question.

[erasureeyes-blog]

[ @ Anyone from Class 1-A who’s been involved in Mineta’s Wild Adventure over the past couple hours. ]

   Since Mineta ( @pervertedmidget​ ) had been taken into his custody now - courtesy of the vine-haired girl from class 1-B ( @vinehair ) - he returned to where the bulk of the rest of his students ought to be with the faux-villain in tow and a rather annoyed look on his face. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased with any of their performances.     When he did arrive at his destination, he lowered Mineta to where he would be standing once more before closing his eyes momentarily, only to open them to look directly at the small grape gremlin boy. He wouldn’t have really bothered if not to make sure that @froppyhopper​ & @girlunseen​ get the chance to free themselves of the pop-off balls they’d been stuck with. 

   “Alright class, I have to say, this is one of the most disappointing results I’ve seen in a while. You had one job - and that was to capture Mineta without incident as a test. You know who actually managed to do what none of you could? One of the students from class 1-B, Ibara. Perhaps you should, if you see her in the future, thank and apologize to her for her trouble. I’d give her an A if she were my student.”     He swept an arm out over Mineta, as if to indicate the boy. “Instead, the only one of you who’s getting an A today is Mineta, because he’s the only one who actually succeeded in doing what he was supposed to do, much as I am loathe to admit it.”

   “Since you all failed today’s assignment, the only way for you to make up your grade will be to write a paper explaining to me why you think you did not succeed and what you can try to do better in the future. Hopefully, it will help some of you in the long run.” His arm lowered, but his gaze returned to Mineta for the time being, eyes closing only briefly - everyone in a sticky situation ought to be freed by then, as it were. “As for you, you may have gotten an A today, but there were still several things wrong with your performance, even if you were pretending to be a villain for a little while. You’ll be writing something for me too, but instead of a paper, I’m going to have you write a note for each person you vandalized to apologize and promise that it will not happen again.”

      His gaze goes back to the bulk of the class. “Am I understood?”

[erasureeyes-blog]

@highspeccs​ moved from here

“Ah, Aizawa-san!” He chirped, smiling widely up at the (tired af) teacher with a very low hint of scrutinization in his polite looks. There was a brief moment of silence taken to examine him and his physical state, before the judgemental looks faded away and he opened the way for him to approach inwards.

“Please, take a seat!

                 I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

   The greeting was the same as usual, just generally as chipper as he would expect of the principal. The look he received, however, was one that he knew well enough that it made him straighten his posture a bit and lower his arm - though he did not move much beyond that until they seemed... done.

   He let the silence be for the time being, but soon he stepped forward into the office and closed the door quietly behind himself. Stepping forward towards a seat, he - despite his tired state - sat without slumping as he normally might have done.             He’s definitely conscious of the fact that he’s... in trouble one way or another.                   Nedzu knows him well by now. Aizawa knows them... well enough.       “Yes?” 

[erasureeyes-blog]

@tamakipse moved from here

    Slumped against a wall, Tamaki grimaced — he ached all over and he was pretty sure he could taste blood… Well, it looked quiet enough that he’d be able to catch his breath here before heading out to seek medical attention. Something shifted at the corner of his eye, drawing his gaze. The movement roused alarm in him, and, drawing a breath, Tamaki attempted to brace himself in some sort of ready stance, just in case he’d been found by someone hostile… Hold on.

Peering through blurry vision, Tamaki finally recognized the approacher. “ … Eraserhead? ”

   Catching sight of movement before really seeing the figure in its entirety, of course he went to investigate - whether it was an ally or a villain, he’d probably need to deal with it one way or another.     Spotting Tamaki as he came a little closer, the hero paused only long enough to take stock of the situation - as well as do a quick scan of their surroundings. If something had beaten the student up that badly, after all, there’s a chance it could still be around. As soon as he was relatively sure there was no immediate danger, however, he moved over to where the teen was slumped against the wall, making quick work of checking their vitals and taking stock of what kind of condition they were in. They didn’t look good, but they should live. 

   “Yes, it’s me.” Bracing himself so as to have a good enough center of balance, he started to carefully move to where he might be able to lift them, or at least help them rise if they seemed well enough to stand to some degree. “Is there anyone hostile in the area? Are Fatgum or Red Riot around? I’m going to try and move you.”

[erasureeyes-blog]

@goninhero

   “Then I guess that’s what you’ll be writing your paper on.”