Ine'j

just a 18 yo girl (somehow still) discovering the app (pfp made by a friend) mainly a fan of spiderverse :D and arcane. and the mcu and dc. and gachiakuta. and-

[inejinn]

Hi there! Tiny post to introduce all the fandoms I've written for already! and highlight my ongoing series (as in series i plan on continuing to write about someday) (that might be in literal months though)

also i believe this is my main masterlist. perhaps. i should probably present myself, maybe i'll do it someday

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on going-series :

tremors

unnamed Cass-centric vampire AU

makeup!reader x kpdh

[inejinn]

and when you think about them, a few light-years away from there, remember:

they still do, too.

the home of your childhood remembers you

[inejinn]

My driving exam is in less than an hour I'm so scared

[inejinn]

Necessary update :

I got my driving license!!!!!!

(I'm still partially convinced it's a glitch from the official platform but still, I'm also so happyyy)

(the gigantic emoji is supposed to be me)

(i was gonna draw a cursed realistic drawing of myself but then I got sleepy so this is it)

(I'm so happy though aaaaa)

[inejinn]

My driving exam is in less than an hour I'm so scared

[inejinn]

What lies within the pit

Tamon's anxiety is only debilitating on some occasions now. The days where it really, really impacts him are spacing out more and more: on most days, he's usually fine now. This isn't one of those days. Oral presentations shouldn't be a thing, because right about now, they're very detrimental to his health.

or : how Tamon experiments a (school) day and how hunger, a school presentation and his own self come to cause his own doom and bite him in the ass.

oror : 7k words of anxiety but also friends stepping up to check up on him raaa

If he hadn't been in the first rows to see Mogari absolutely devouring their latest ghost, Tamon would think he's the one that accidentally swallowed one yesterday. His insides are moving, and moving, and moving, like there's something –not really anymore– living inside them.

It sucks. It really sucks. It's not like he's not used to it, though, so the feeling's inconvenient, but not the catastrophe it could be for someone else.

He’s less used to the facts his eyelids are just this close to developing their own eyelids, though. And he’s also less used to- "Psst, hey? Do you have a pencil? I forgot my spare one and mine just died", Mogari turns towards him, cutting him away from his worries, more than likely just temporarily.

"Yeah, wait, let me just-" The scrambling around his bag doesn't take too long to be successful. "There", he goes.

Mogari pretty much snatches his pencil away. That gets frustration to stab into his heart lightly, for some reason. But it's done with a smile that gets his irritation at the action to whither away instantly, though. "Thanks! You're saving my life," Mogari says, and that’s the end of it.

History classes are more boring than usual, today: usually he'd be captivated, but today the teacher's just retelling a fun fact she's told them before. That could be a nice thing, honestly: an occasion to just do nothing and have fun without feeling guilty at being distracted. For example, Zaki and Mogari are exploiting the occasion to be distracted without Eugene having an excuse to chime in about it. He's letting them drag him into their doodles session, actually.

Watching them draw is pretty distracting but he's still not distracted enough. Or, he's being distracted from his distraction.

The clock's smallest hand hit the twelfth mark. Lunchtime's in 20 minutes. English is in two hours and 20 minutes. His presentation might be in two hours and-

His stomach twists again. He accidentally locks eyes with one student. Fuck. He raises his hand. "Sorry, ma'am, can I...", he manages to squeak out. Somehow. It's a miracle. It's an urgency. It's. He's really, really glad suddenly that he's probably the subject of many discussions in the teachers lounge, because at least Miss Hasebe knows how he gets, and he gets dismissed pretty much immediately.

It's almost not quick enough: the corridor rushes in the corner of his vision as he goes from speed-walking to jogging to running, and he's never been more glad not to see anyone in them. Karma might be real because, for once, there's no one out of classes to take their own impromptu break session, and there's also none of the students council members patrolling them. Thank you, Karma, he has the fleeting thought of.

Karma might also be real and grateful for his politeness because just on time, the familiar sight of porcelain greets him and then he's finally able to safely empty his insides.

Then there's the unwelcome warmth in his throat. He retches once, twice. It's actually over pretty quickly, but the weight in his stomach and chest doesn't go away, so he stays there for who knows how long.

He's not ready to go back out there until he knows he's fully ready. But he doesn't, really doesn't think he'll ever entirely feel ready for facing down a mass of people so soon, though.

The liquid's clear, but he doesn't look at what he just threw up when he flushes the toilet. He closes the door to the stall behind him. There was a time when he used to, in a sort of morbid curiosity that he just had to fulfil. Yeah, that wasn't the smartest. He stopped once he realized it'd make him throw back up a bit too often, though.

He stood up on shaky legs, but he goes through the rest of his routine easily. Spit out the rest of the water he was cleaning his mouth with, wipes off his mouth, goes to take a mint-

Well, he can't do that last part. Because he left his candy container in his bag that's back in the class. Which he only realizes now, obviously. Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumbass. The realization almost has him cursing himself out loud, not just mentally.

The door to the bathroom has him freezing before he can do that. It opens. His gaze snap downward.

The tiles is a familiar sight, too, one that he's also well acquainted with.

"Tamon? Are you alright?"

The interruption has him snapping his head back up. Oh, he thinks, and an audible "oh!" leaves his mouth, too.

"Yeah, I'm done now. I'm better”, he says to the newcomer.

Eugene's face is there, and he's able to face it, which is nice, but it sports concern, which is less nice. "Are you sure ? You looked really green, there", his friend tells him.

"Yeah, I'm sure! Got a bit stressed. It all just kind of went crashing down, and all."

"Oh, sorry about that. It's great it's over now, though." Eugene's smile is sympathetic, so much so that it has Tamon feeling kind of flustered. It's not new of his friend or of the three of them to show they care, but he still gets surprised by the lack of judgement that comes from them.

"Hm hm. Hey, how are you here? Are classes done already?"

Because if so, then he managed to miss the bell ringing, which is a wonder in of itself, because it's a, well.

Pretty loud bell. One that does it's job well.

The thought that this rhymed makes him smile, slightly.

"Oh, no, I just asked Miss Hasebe to go check up on you. It's only been fifty minutes, don't worry. You didn't miss much”, Eugene answers him.

"Oh. Okay. Nice." It isn't that nice, actually. Fifteen minutes is a long time, but it also isn't that long, not really.

Definitely not long enough for it to bring him any peace of mind. And even less long enough for him to make his comeback.

"...Hey, would you mind if we, uh. Stayed a little bit more ? There's only 10 minutes left, right? I wouldn't be missing much", he asks.

"Okay, sure. I'll just tell Miss Hasebe you weren't feeling better, she'll understand." Eugene's answer comes with no hesitation and a whole lot of assurance Tamon can't do anything but be impressed by.

"Perks of being an incredibly good student?"

"…Yes. Perks of being an incredibly good student", his friend confirms with a sober nod. "I'll text Zaki to bring us our bags."

"Think he'll see the message ?" Zaki's more of the type to sneak glimpses at a manga in classes than at his phone. Tamon's seen him do it sometimes, but it was pretty rare, and only in situations that really, really required it (say, literature classes, for example).

" He'll see it. He wanted to go check on you pretty much as soon as you got up, actually."

That's a.. very heartwarming thought. Even though he'll likely be pretending otherwise, Zaki cares about him, and them, a whole lot, and Tamon really loves his friends, has he told them that already?

"You don't need to go to the infirmary or anything, right?", Eugene asks him, like he pretty much always does whenever one of the three of them gets visibly and, more importantly, visually unwell.

"Oh, yeah, no, don't worry." He's fine. He's still feeling nauseous, yeah, but he's sure it'll pass, though. Just... In two hours.

“It'll pass in two hours”, he says. It’s a probable truth, too: he’s been getting way better recently, at keeping his anxiety in check and wrestling it down into leaving him alone at least a little bit. It’s just today is unusual, that his brain and stomach defeated him for so little

. “I just don't really feel like getting back and disturbing everyone just to attend 9 minutes of classes, that'd be dumb", he explains to Eugene at his inquisitive expression.

—————————

Lunchtime comes more quickly than what should be considered fair. The bell ring, and him and Eugene are almost too busy to notice it. Only almost though, because as soon as it rings, they're both startling so sharply they end up bursting into laughter at their own fear.

Tamon's snickers slow to a stop when Eugene speaks up though.

"Okay, I told Zaki and Mogari we'd join them at the cafeteria. Do you need to drop by your... locker..." He stops himself there, looking very, very frazzled, and that's almost enough to get Tamon to drop back into laughter.

"You don't have the keys to them. Right. Sorry", Eugene resumes.

"That's fine, don't worry, I'll just go grab my lunchbox after if I'm still hungry.”

He'll probably be. He's often still hungry after eating the cafeteria's lunch portions. Because they're way, way too small: the aliments and food itself are great , and they taste very good, but he's used to eating for two people , so...

"Okay, perfect!", Eugene's saying, and then they're both off to the cafeteria, just like that, just that easily. Tamon’s not minding leaving the familiarity of the restroom that much, with Eugene’s here leading him out of it.

—————————

It's not too busy, yet, which Tamon really is happy about. It makes finding Zaki and Mogari very easy, since almost nobody else is there yet. The hallway are clear enough that the shadows coming from the windows are left untouched.

The pile of bags is probably what’d makes them easy to spot, if there was a crowd, when you ignore all the other boisterous things about them.

Say, one Mogari Shishikuno.

Tamon answers back the slightly-too-enthusiastic waving with a short nod. Eugene... Well, he doesn't really know what Eugene does, given he's looking strictly forward to avoid any involuntary eye-contact with other students also going towards the cafeteria.

"Guys! Tamon, glad to see you survived ! Hey, think I could be the one accompanying you to the toilets next time?"

" You just wanted a reason to leave class because Miss Hasabe went back talking about the Jōmon period", Zaki notes, tone dry.

He offers a nod to Tamon as he does. The action gets a small smile appearing on his face. Tamon can feel it pulling at his mouth.

"What, no! I'd never." Mogari's protest is immediate, and Tamon doesn't really believe it even before Mogari speaks up again. "Okay I would a little . Or. well, partially. But I was still worried! Me and Zaki both thought you got lost or something."

"I didn't." Zaki keeps talking just as sternly, but that tone does go away a little when he picks up Tamon's bag to give it to him. "You're good now?"

"Yeah" 's all Tamon says. He's busy grabbing his bag and slightly scrambling for his mint candy, so Eugene has all the time he wants to intervene.

"Did you not see my texts ? I sent a lot of updates." His eyebrows raises a little behind his glasses, Tamon can tell by the inflexion of his tone.

"Nope, actually. Mogari was the one answering near the end", Zaki says, going to stares daggers into said-person.

"You stole his phone?", Eugene asks, sounding genuinely baffled as he bends down to take his bag.

Probably because he didn't distinguish the two when he was talking to them? Tamon didn't either, to be fair. He was fully convinced Zaki was the one answering when 'he' was sending screenshots of animes they ‘should imperatively be watching before they die’.

"He's lying, that's- ...Slander. Slandering my name. The only thing I stole was his pencil", Mogari's saying, turning to push the door open dramatically. The action and the drama has Tamon shuddering slightly, but following still comes easily, surprisingly.

Maybe it's because the only one people will be looking at is obviously going to be Mogari, since he's as brazen as usual, if not more, today. "Ohhh, udon today? Neat!", his friend exclaims.

The weathered piece of paper that announce the weekly menus is saying that.

"...Udon today", Zaki's confirming, also changing the subject.

—————————

The udon smells really, really great. He would have added a bit of shichimi, personally, instead of the slightly too sweet abura-age sitting on top of the noodles, but it doesn't seem that bad.

Too bad it seems so unappetizing to him currently, though. He twirls around a noodle while listening to the current conversation.

They're comparing the shark from Jaws and Godzilla, and that sounds like a fun conversation, but Tamon keeps getting distracted.

His mind keeps getting flooded with the reminder that his demise is officially in less than two hours now. Every time he manages to forget it, he's reminded of the fact by random entirely unrelated things.

" Hear me out though: Bruce will literally be able to creep in on Godzilla, Godzilla can't do that, he's way too graceless for it. He'll definitely be caught of guard by it."

"Why's the shark's name Bruce anyway? Is this a reference to Bachmtman, or?" Eh. Zaki's just as graceless as Godzilla, really, speaking with his mouth full of non-swallowed bites. He complains about Mogari’s lack of manners, but his own spit’s also flying a bit currently.

"Oh, no it's actually based on Spielberg's lawyer" Eugene starts to say. Usually, Tamon would be enthralled by the random trivia Eugene always knows. Today, though... Today his gaze keeps moving around their club room they've moved to, focusing on pretty much nothing of what's in it or the view of the school-yard hiding behind the curtains.

Until it does, on the blackboard. That's where he's gonna have to be standing in front of in less than two hours. In front of a whole entire class and a thousands of gazes. Repeating a text he's not even sure he entirely remembers. Ohhhh that's not a nice thought. Really, really not a nice one. If he freezes because he forgot what he has to say, it'll make his temporary hell even longer and even more awful.

Nope. "Eugene?" He goes suddenly, snapping his head back to his friends. A bit too suddenly maybe because it has Eugene startling, but.

"Uh, yeah?", he says, turning away from their ongoing conversation that Tamon's not even sure was still about the Jaw Vs Godzilla debacle.

"Could you help me rehearse? For the English presentation?"

"Oh. Shit. I forgot about that", Zaki chimes in, tranquilly finishing his juice box anyway. "We have to present an english touristic spot, right?" There's not nearly enough panic in his behavior about that than there would have been in Tamon's.

"Yes", Eugene says with a sigh that's more amused than frustrated. "And yes, no problem Tamon, we can do that."

"I also forgot, fuckk." Mogari's eyes are wide open in panic. "Or, well, I was too tired yesterday, I conked out literally immediately after we got back from the train station."

Makes sense. There were a lot of ghosts there, and they had to move around a lot for Mogari to be able to eat them all. Sleep also tempted Tamon by a lot when they finally all got back to their houses, but he chose to resist its appeal to revise.

Maybe he should have gone to sleep early though, he considers when pushing himself and his chair away from his plate.

Because clearly staying up late didn't do much in preparing him for the presentation, the ever-present nausea in his stomach reminds him.

“We were up at it for at least fourty minutes. I wanted to have a little phone break but then boom, it was late and I blacked out”, Mogari says.

“Doomscrolling session, more like”, Zaki goes. “You brought this onto yourself”

“...That's alright, I'll just die.”

"You say that but you should be fine", Zaki tells Mogari. "Didn't your clan teach you English and all?"

"Yeah, true", Mogari shrugs before he's turning towards Tamon with eyes that can only be qualified as voracious. "Are you gonna eat that?" "You can have it", he says with probably the smallest laugh he's ever laughed, standing up towards his bag. When Mogari asks something like that, saying no would basically be punching a puppy in the face.

He doesn’t wanna be adding to the strain of his stress and his guts anyway.

Eugene follows him into standing up too, since he's pretty much already done eating. "You can have my leftovers too if you want", he tells Mogari before he's fully facing Tamon. "So, do you have your notes ? How do you want to go about it?"

"Uhm. I was thinking you just stare at me like we did for eye-contact-training and I try to say my speech aloud without forgetting anything?"

—————————

Putting words to his emotions as he waits for the current class to be done and the next one, english, to start is impossible. He’s never really been able to describe the dread he feels well.

It just, is, and it’s both nausea and fear and horror and survival reaction and habit in a way he himself can’t even entirely understand.

His stress is something he holds close to his chest, but it’s also not something he can choose to get out in the way he’d want it to.

This isn’t an exception.

The only real way he can describe it is that he really, really would like it to stop, but that he’s still used to it anyway.

He can daydream about being home listening to his playlist. But that's pretty much all he can do to ignore the pang in his stomach. It grew again since **yesterday **evening. It hasn't left him ever since this morning, actually. And yes he’s used to it: but, still, it’s unusual anyway, today. It’s not usually that bad anymore. It’s not this type of permanent, at least.

This really, really sucks.

—————————

Rehearsing was awful. Rehearsing was awful and hell but at least his only persecutors were Eugene with his strictness and Mogari and Zaki with their occasional interruptions. Waiting for the real deal is the version of hell that's going to be the end of him. Sitting there has his heart clutching itself to his ribs and making them tremble with its jammed beating.

He doesn't know if not knowing the order of who'll speak next is making things better or not. At least if he knew when it'd be his turn he wouldn't be flinching every time the teacher calls out a name, but then he'd know when his demise would come. In every stories, it's not a great thing for people to know the exact date of the day they'll die, right?

Zaki does just well when it's his turn to speak in front of the whole class. He gets there, he talks all dramatically about the Cathedral he picked, and everyone applaud when he's done, since that's what Mr. Wilson wants them to do after a presentation's done. British custom, and all.

His hands gets clammier and clammier every time Tamon’s applauding. They keep sweating bullets when he wait for Mr. Wilson to pick a random name. It's not his that comes up, and he's torn between the immense relief that washes upon him and the churning of his stomach.

The pang doesn't go away while other students presents their buildings and parks and spots. He doesn't exactly know which they're talking about. Too busy staring at the cracks in his table.

Can time move more quickly? Or, actually, no- can it move more slowly? Or stop as a whole, that'd be nice. Would be awesome if it'd freeze.

And freezing he does when his name's finally called. He's stuck to his seat. That's going to be his resting place. He's stuck there for what feels like a hundred of minutes, until Zaki's pushing him out his chair with a whispered “Come on, you've got this.”

His legs have never been shakier as he march to the black board and his demise. His hands, too, and the paper with his notes as well, and it's like a vicious cycle and if he finishes his speech entirely it's going to be a miracle.

Eugene's advice of using his notes to avoid eye-contact, he follows it to a t, his face almost plastered to the letters. He reads them out loud so quickly it's a wonder he doesn't suffocate himself.

“Good, good. You can sit down”, Mr. Wilson announce his deliverance in english.

Tamon waste no time going to sit down even if he hasn't fully deciphered the words yet.

—————————

He made the mistake of lifting his gaze from the floor. It was dumb. Pretty stupid.

It sucks, too, because he was doing so well recently, handling looking at people in the eyes, but here he goes, throwing back up the few of the udon he ate today. At least he didn't have to throw up too much of the undigested food.

Still. It sucks. The bitter tastes linger in his throat, and his mouth, and it's infiltrating in between his dentition and into his teeth, too.

This time he didn't make it to the restroom too, and he's also used to that, but it doesn't make going to the janitors less humiliating.

At least they're nice, he thinks. They keep insisting for him to let them clean up his mess, but Tamon can be insistent, too.

When he’s outside and he throws up he doesn’t really mind since, well, nature and all —it rains or it decay into the dirt or, ew, stray or wild animals eat it— but otherwise he doesn’t like leaving his own mess behind. Guilts him. Makes him feel really really bad.

He'd also really rather use any excuse he can to spend as much time as he wants out the classroom. There's still a few hours left until classes are over, so he knows he'll have to see people sooner than later: at least this way it's a little less sooner than what he's comfortable with.

He's still mopping up what he threw back up when the door to the classroom opens. He goes freezing again. There’s something about other people that’s petrifying him, something in eyes that only he perceives as gorgon’s. Something about perception, something about acknowledgement, something of fear.

It’s awful. It’s terrible.

“Hey”, Zaki says.

Oh. That's fine, then.

“Hi”, he looks up. Out of the tree of them, he excepted Mogari to be the one joining him, honestly. He says so out loud.

“He wanted to but Mr Wilson wouldn't let him until it was his turn ”, Zaki shrugs. There's a frown on his face, one that's a.. bit different from his usual resting face. “Honestly, that dude sucks. He could have let you send him a voice memo or something.”

“Eh. Substitutes usually don't let me do that”, Tampon says, finishing mopping.

“It’s dumb.”

He shrugs. “I'm used to it. Today was actually better than usual.”

It's true, too. He's not saying that just to reassure his friend. All his life, as far as he can remember going to school, he's been overcome with anxiety at the thought of presentations or answering questions out loud. Honestly, what he did today was close to a miracle, so even if it annoys him he still ended up throwing up again, he can only be grateful he managed to speak earlier, as quick and full of mistakes as it probably was.

“You did manage to say all your parts. I forgot some of mine”, Zaki tells him. “Hey, how many do you bet Mogari will forget ?”

“Hm, i don't know. Maybe only one? He was listening when Eugene was helping me rehearse.”

“I'd say two. He was too distracted devouring your leftovers to listen at the beginning”, Zaki tells him. “Where's the janitors room already?”

The question has a smile appearing Tamon's lips. It implies Zaki's coming too, and not leaving him a choice about whether they’re staying together or not, and that's a fact Tamon can only accept is his new normal.

The pang in his stomach’s still there, though. That's definitely not normal. Usually he's fine-ish, when he's surrounded by no strangers, even after crisis, and Zaki definitely doesn't count as a stranger anymore now.

But his guts are still sitting heavily within his body right now, not his usual nausea.

—————————

Classes are going to be over really, really soon- Tamsin can't wait for the bell to ring and for the four of them to be able to go to their club room again.

Mogari's beginning to get stir-crazy, but to be fair, he also is. Those classes are way better than English, and he’s able to focus a little more, but it really isn’t by a lot. For some reason, his attention keeps wandering away from the lesson and exercises he’s meant to be doing. He keeps having to blink his eyes manually for them to feel less dry. It’s not even that he’s dozing off, or anything: the presence of the classmates that aren’t his friends wouldn’t let him fall asleep, even if he wanted to.

He’s… a bit tired, but he doesn’t think he’ll be taking a nap when they’ll get to their club room. Technically, he could, and the couch is nothing but uninviting. But he doesn’t feel up to sleeping anyway. The adrenaline from two hours ago and his english presentation is still buzzing through his veins, and his guts, on top of inside his very brain, it feels like. It probably still will be when they’ll be at the club. But at least there he has more chances at being able to relax.

Even if he's able to talk to other people and hold eye contact better now, their abandoned class is still a haven on days like those, with, say, oral presentations. There’s barely anyone that goes there, except for the occasional student and their ghost-related problems.

Most of the time, they’ll just be chilling in there, playing or talking or asking Eugene for help on insurmountable piles of homework's. Some other times, they’ll just be scrolling on their phone or reading or listening to music. Less often, they’ll be considering the best way to exorcise ghosts or how to travel to the spots they’re haunting, but even then it’s not that stressful.

He really, really can’t wait to be there. The moment the bell will ring, they’ll go: any minute, now.

—————————

When he gets up from his seat, he feels like the classroom is lighter than it’s meant to be for just an instant.

“We have no homeworks due tomorrow, right?”, Zaki's asking him, and he nods while putting his cap on, finally, now that classes are over for the day.

“Yeah”, he says. “That was it for the week.”

“You sure?”, Zaki says, and he’s raising an eyebrow, and that… has Tamon almost snapping, for some reason?

“Yeah. Dude, don’t ask me if you’re gonna be questioning my answer.”

“Yeah, dude”, Mogari echoes, leaving the conversation he was having with Eugene.

“… Do you even have any clue what you were agreeing to?”, Zaki asks Mogari, eyebrow still up but at him this time. Eugene’s are distinctly down. Tamon’s, too. He doesn’t know what’s up with him today, but it really is frustrating Tamon, how all over the place his emotions are being. But, well. At least club time will makes it all better, if they won’t be trying to fulfill Mogari’s quota today.

He hopes they won’t have to. He doesn’t have cramps from all the running and circling and stalking up around they had to do yesterday, but his body sure is feeling the loss of all the energy he had to spend and hasn’t managed to gain back yet. But the club room is getting closer, and they’ll be there soon, and Tamon will finally, finally gets to get his rest, now that all the stakes of school are off his shoulder.

—————————

Someone knocked on the door. Usually, people just get in on their own, but maybe the person waiting behind the door is apprehensive? It can be stressful to have to open a door when you don't know whether you're supposed to get in, or knock again, or wait, or wait to get in, or-

The others aren't getting up: Zaki's still reading his manga and Eugene and Mogari are too busy doing who knows what to react, so.

"You're literally closer to the door than me", he snarks at them.

It comes out more as a mumble than anything sharp, though. He stands up fully from the couch, and he’s turning towards the door,

and then.

Tamon's being asked something like all the possible variations of "Are you okay?", he's pretty sure.

He'll answer soon. At some point.

There’s a warmth on his forehead. There's prodding that's being repeated again and again and that he's, like, 90% sure is Mogari tapping on his cheek. The rhythm's so fucked up. He really needs it to stop. He doesn't want his poor ears ringing any more, please.

"Tamon? Hello? Tamon?"

"Don't pull a Mogari!"

"Hey!!"

"Guys, shut. Tamon? Can you hear me?"

He groans. Five more minutes away from the nausea, please. He's fine down there with his eyes closed for a few more minutes. And- Light forcibly hits his eyeballs. Without his approval. That rhymes- but he's a bit too busy having his eyelids pried opened by a dumbass to marvel at his accidental rhyme.

"Wha- Hey!", it's his turn to protest this time, fighting off the unwelcomed hands. They retreat. Tamon looks up a little, on his own accord this time.

"Dude , Mogari, that's definitely not how you deal with someone that just conked out" Tamon has maybe 3 wholes millisecondes to register it's Zaki that said that before Mogari's onto him and he has to spit black hair out his mouth.

"He's not even sitting up, you need to let him collect himself-" It's Eugene that's saying that. "He scared me!", Mogari's defending himself. Straight into his ear, pretty much. "Dude, you scared me. Your eyes went all white, it was awful"

"Uhm. ...Sorry?", he's saying before he can figure out anything further. Things around him aren't blurry and all wacky like he thought passing out would make them to be : he can see very clearly that's he's still in the middle of the club round. He can also very visibly see –excluding Mogari's since said head is currently right into his shoulder– the concern on his friends' heads.

"Dude. I thought you died. And I am NOT ever eating you, no thanks you.", Mogari's head into his shoulder says. The words are a bit too humid but honestly, Tamon doesn't mind. Tamon's arms are wrapping back around Mogari before he can really think about it. Or before Mogari can be done talking. Because, don't blame him, but that was scary. He's gotten nauseous and dizzy plenty before, but he's never gotten to the whole "dead body on the floor" part.

"How is that the first thing you even think of? Just after you had to see your friend drop dead to the floor?", Zaki asks. "I swear, I'm surrounded by walking and breathing stomachs.” That part he mumbles.

So Tamon really dropped straight to the floor? Not even, like, a little sliding down less dramatically. Apparently. Or is that just Zaki being his usual drama-queen and exaggerating things? But his cap’s not on his head anymore. So. Chances he actually dived to the floor are high.

“Hey, at least I didn’t shriek that loud”, Mogari answers Zaki:

Usually that'd be the part where Eugene would join in on the banter: but when Tamon looks up at him, there's a frown of his face.

"Tamon. Did you eat today?", he asks.

"Oh, no, I was too stressed about the presentation so I..." His voice trails off and. Oh. Ohhhhhh. Oh. The realization smacks him right into the head and leaves him spiritually sprawled out on the ground. Like how he was before and still is. The pit in his stomach is almost never hunger anymore. It's always fear, terror, unnecessary anxiety, that come twirling into his head then resting back down into nausea, until he's throwing it all back up. And there was that today, yes, but.

"You didn't??", Mogari's asking. He didn't. " I didn't", he confirms.

The epiphany is pretty much collective. Judging by the gasps of realization he’s hearing and his own thought process.

All day long, he's been a bit tired, yes, but he's also thrown up more times than his usual. As in: more than he had been doing recently, but pretty much equal than how many time a day he used to throw up before. And the pang in his stomach was hunger, and that much throwing up on an almost empty stomach definitely didn’t help.

"Ohhhh", Mogari's saying now, still clutching onto him. They probably make a ridiculous sight. Tamon pretty much doesn't care at all. "Were you not hungry, or?" "No, I was. I just. Didn’t feel like eating, I guess?”

"That's dumb, though. "

"I didn't mean to. Didn't even notice I was feeling bad."

And he's also been too nauseous with stress to keep his lunch down. He didn’t eat any breakfast, too. So okay, before he knew it, it’s been... what, 18hours? 18 hours since he’s really digesting anything, and, well. Needless to say his body didn't enjoy that, apparently. And. And. His stomach churned. Like, bad, all day long, but he had just assumed it was, well.. his usual anxiety. Except worsened maybe by something adrenaline-related ? Yesterday evening's ghost was a pretty tough one to exorcise.

“Zaki, can you-”, Eugene says.

“Yes, yes. On it”, his friend’s saying, scrambling a little to get away from him. Tamon only realizes now he really had previously been crowded by all his friends. He had thought Zaki was further away, for some reason.

“Can he what?”, he asks, a little dazedly: a little dizzily. Had he been feeling dizzy previously? He doesn’t think he was. Not before he blacked out, at least. He was feeling mostly fine, honestly. He’s not sick, that’s for sure: when he comes down with a cold, he comes down. He’d be shivering and sweating and dying right now if he was sick.

“Bring you some water and at least half a dozen snacks”, Eugene answers, slowly bringing his feet down from the place on the couch they were resting on. Huh.

“Huh. Yeah. That makes sense”, he says, straightening up a little, as much as the arms around him let him. ” Sorry if I scared you. I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s fine, just don’t do it again. Think you can sit?”, Eugene asks. “Mogari, can you-”

“Uhm. Yes, I think so”, Tamon’s saying at the same time Mogari goes “Can I what?”.

“Let him sit up, please. I really don’t think you’re supposed to be plastered to someone that just passed out. Even if it wasn’t for that long.” Eugene seems really serious. Definitely serious compared to his more silly expressions, but even when compared to his usual them-shenanigans-related seriousness. There’s also a whole great deal of lingering worry there, one that has Tamon feeling all warm with embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry!”, Mogari exclaims. Right into his ear. “Sorry”, he says again, this time directly to him, letting go of him.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind”, he says, the honesty leaving his mouth easily while he sits up properly, propping himself up against the side of the couch. He’s able to look up at the door properly too, now, and- “Hey, wait, where did they go?”

“… Who? Zaki? He’s at the vending machine”, Eugene asks, perplexed, like he’s wondering if Tamon’s fall impacted his intelligence somehow. He didn’t eat his head or anything, though.

“No, I meant the student that knocked on the door.”

The concern on both Mogari and Eugene’s face is not really fun. It makes Tamon thinks he hallucinated, honestly. And.

“Nobody knocked on any door.”, Mogari tells him with his incredible lack of gentleness, just as Eugene’s asking him “Did you hear anything?”.

“Nope”, Mogari answers him immediately.

That’s. Well. Tamon suddenly understand their worries a little more, imagining the scene.

“Oh. So I hallucinated and fainted for no valuable reason? Argh. Not neat.”

“Yeah, ‘not neat’”, Eugene answers with a firm expression and an even firmer nod.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a ghost close in the corridor, actually” Zaki’s informs them, entering the door frame. He’s holding at least three snack bars, and one others snack Tamon can’t identify yet, but also a can of soda.

That’s a bit overboard.

“That’s definitely not enough,” Mogari goes, standing up so suddenly Tamon can’t help but think about his blood sugar level. …Probably because his own likely dropped when he did that earlier.

Before he can protest, Mogari’s already rummaging through his backpack, coming up with a “Haha!” and two others bars.

“No, really, you don’t need to-”

“Can you return to the “there’s a ghost in the corridor” bit?” Eugene interrupts.

“Oh, yeah, I saw someone running away when I got out. They ran into a wall, and all, so they were definitely a ghost,” Zaki answers, wholly uncaring and unbothered about Tamon’s flustered state. Flustration? Is that how that’s said? He basically gets the snacks thrown into his face, though, so he can’t really focus on it for too long.

“You’d be the worst nurse ever,” Zaki snarks at Mogari.

“Hey, I’m feeding the starving patient!”

“That’s literally the bare minimum,” Zaki says, offering Tamon the snacks he brought— and likely bought with his own money— way more carefully than Mogari did, if still a little abruptly.

He takes them, adding them to the two bars already lying on his lap, and that’s when he realizes those ones were Mogari’s. As in Mogari’s, as in the ones he always bring to school to snack on. Oh. He’s going Oh a lot, today.

But once again, he can’t really focus on his revelation, because his stomach rolls so suddenly he’s almost scared he’ll be throwing up for the umpteenth time today.

Right. Approximatively 18 hours since he last ate anything. Right.

Eugene comes back from the window he had gone to. He’s opened it, apparently. That’s… probably something you’re meant to do for someone that passed out? Maybe. That sounds like something he would know to do, so Tamon’s just going to assume that’s why Eugene did it.

His friend sits next to him, a bit ungracefully, joining him in leaning against the couch.

“So.” He’s staring at Tamon’s hands. Tamon looks back down, and he stares at the granola bears. Looks back up. Looks back down, when he sees that Eugene’s still looking down.

He unwraps the bar, and he bites into it, and- Yeah, okay, maybe Mogari was right. Maybe what Zaki brought would have not been enough. And, he’s starving, he really is, and now that the stress and adrenaline is entirely gone, he can really, really feels it.

“Are you sure you haven’t been feeling sort of bad all day long?” Eugene asks, and when Tamon looks back up he can see Zaki and Mogari are sitting close. His gaze drifts behind them.

There's his balloon two-feet away from the corner it’s usually in. Tamon wonders if his body bounced around when he went down.

“I mean, I’ve been stressed, and nauseous, but those are usually very close to each other for me.”

“Okay. And you haven’t been feeling too warm or too cold, or your throat or anything hurting, right?”

“Nope. I think it was all just the presentation and the hunger”, he says, unwrapping his second bar. “…Oh, also, haven’t slept too much b’cause of the exorcism and revising and all of that,” he says between two bites. The bar probably tastes really good. Too bad his stomach begging for more isn’t allowing him to eat more slowly.

… He can see Eugene and his spine visibly unwinding, going all straight all of the sudden.

“I’m fine, really. It happens. Or, well- that doesn’t happen usually, it was actually the first time, but it’s not the first time I got so anxious it kept me from eating or stuff like that ,” he scrambles to explain.

“Okay, nice, because if you were telling me it happened often that'd be scary”, Mogari interrupts.

When Tamon looks at him, his eyebrows are twisted down almost comically. Tamon doesn’t exactly feel like laughing about it, though. He’s not feeling like throwing back up or running away from the interaction, either, and that’s a thought that Tamon’s made even more aware of, with his friends around him like they’re a package deal. He feels like the fragile pottery thing that needs wrapping currently, but it’s not something he especially minds right at the moment.

“No, really, I’m fine.”

“Well. Good thing your anxiety isn’t that bad”, Zaki tells, and it sounds and is snarky, but there’s also a sort of carefulness to his expression that makes it more than just the sarcastic comment it is.

There’s also a bit on Eugene’s and Mogari’s concern, on it.

“You’re eating more than just that, by the way”, the latter announces, features expressively resolute. “And we’re waiting until at least one hour before we’re leaving. Oh, and. In the future-”

Oh. The ever-present pit living in his body isn’t going to be leaving any day soon, but it sure sounds like his friend will be throwing all they can into it to at least appease it.

His friends as a whole, actually- When he looks, there’s definitely resolve in all their expressions, and it looks like it’s going to be pooling out of their bodies and eyes, a bit. That’d be horrifying of a vision, if that happened to any ghosts. The mental image isn’t especially disgusting him, or anything. It’s actually heart-warming, kinda.

Definitely is.

“

… you really pulled a Mogari”, Zaki says, when they're walking him back home, later.

… He did, too, with the hunger and not dealing with it until it was too late. He also randomly dropped down in front of his friends, too. He pulled a Mogari.

“Oh. Oh wait, I did”, he goes, almost dropping his box of take-out at the revelation and the giggle it draws from him “So.. Who do you think is next ? You or Eugene ?”

“Does the beach possession exhaustion not count? Because if so I'm saying Eugene's next”

“… No way. No thanks you”, his friend says, and he's looking very frazzled, and that's enough to put a grin to Tamon's face, the first official one of his no-good-very-bad day.

“Yes way. Sorry, it's officially a rite of passage, apparently.”

“I’m finding a way to get you out of english presentations next time.”

“By being a very much incredible student?”

“Nah, I’m getting either Mr Noir or Mogari to intimidate the teachers.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome”, Eugene says, face drawn into a serious expression. He pushes his glasses a little higher on his face. “Very least I can do to help my friend.

“…Thanks”, Tamon repeats himself, instead of staying wordless. And he is grateful, really.

Hi. Please let it be known this is NOT a guide to how you should react when someone passes out. Eugene was the only smart one amongst their group of dumbass (by raising Tamon's feet above his heart-level and telling Zaki to bring him water) but they still crowded Tamon way too fucking much (according to Google) (I am also not the best guide to helping you deal with someone passing out) also! this was so fun to write omg. this is my first time writing more than two characters interacting at the same time and it was pretty difficult but i handled it pretty well? i think? having this group as my muses really helped haha. i love them sm btw omg

[inejinn]

No more than something small

In which two friends are out walking, one's eating, and the other's reminiscing.

or: 1k words fic in which we get a glimpse of the life of Steph , and a little into what it means for her to have someone so different (a mermaid) as a friend

Takes place in the same universe as this other ficlet.

(@the-nerdy-libra hi hello I don't know if you still want to be tagged but I did just in case, tell me if not !)

Saying the way Cass functions is different is barely scratching the surface. It’s laughably weak of a term. Sometimes, though, she forgets.

Steph has been getting used to it, in the past months she got to spend with the woman. Seeing the glistening of her skin very quickly got far from disturbing. Of her teeth, too. The sharp glint in front of the slanted pupil’s not something she minds either.

The way she absolutely destroy heaps of livings bodies, though? It’s. It’s.

“Cass! That’s ... literally disgusting, aeurgh-”

Crouching in the middle of the sidewalk, Cass barely looks up. Or well, maybe she does. Steph is a bit too busy turning around— in order not to see the slaughter— to notice.

“You do the same. With pizza.” the mermaid says, unimpressed, uncaring, unmoved about Steph’s apparent utter disgust.

“I don’t. Do you see me decapitating my food before I eat it?”

“You can’t. Your food has no head”, Cass says. And then one of the last fishes she had caught earlier is immediately torn between her canines, again.

There’s something a bit captivating, about the way she tears at it seamlessly, leaving not a single bone behind. It’s just Steph’s consciousness 's being glad she doesn’t have to see the water turning red, like it's some sort of horror movie, she tells herself.

“And I eat the head, also”, Cass precises . Because of course she does. "So it's not decapitating."

“Yeah, that doesn’t make it better.”

It doesn't. Simultaneously, though, the random banter does make it more normal.

The first time Steph got to see Cass eating non-human made food was… A bit of a shock. A surprise, definitely. She should have excepted it, really : the wildness of it, the strength held in her jaw, her dentition. But domesticity had a way of making her forget all about their differences, forget some parts of the nature that made her her, up until she was confronted with said differences by an entirely unbothered Cass.

One evening, early enough that Steph could still see entirely fine when outside, Cass had came to her house, like usual. They sat outside, because the sunset was always more than worth it, and it was really nice. Steph thinks she was ranting about the increase of prices of the local market.

She knows for a fact Cass was sitting next to her, listening, until she had suddenly moved, quicker than Steph really processed. Steph knows she had definitely noticed the frog that Cass was holding, because she distinctly remembers thinking that it was adorable. Then Cass had snapped its head without a second thought.

As odd as it was, she had only felt horror for a little while. The big, oblivious eyes turning toward her when Steph's jaw unhinged from her face kind of distracted her from doing anything like screaming her shock out.

Now, well. She’s not shocked anymore whenever that happens. Just slightly jumpscared each time because Cass isn't going to stop jumping on whatever small creature has the stupid idea to pass by her.

At least she warns Steph she’s "going to be destroying her snack" before she does it, now. (Steph’s words, not hers.)

So here is now Steph, judging every single one of the cracks in the fucked up wall, the one not too far off into her vision.

“Are you done soon?”, she asks, tracking the path of a random stray cat that choses this moment to walk on the wall “Because we’re in the middle of the street, there could be people out walking their-”

Dogs.

The thought that maybe she should warn Cass against lunching on just any random creature hits Steph’s brain very suddenly.

Dogs. Stray cats.

Rabid wild animals, too. Maybe. Those would be less of a problem, morally-wise, because rabid animals don't usually have people caring about them. But Steph has no clue how eating one could affect someone.

Can sea creatures become rabid? Do mermaids ever get sick? Steph has no clue and no answers to any of these questions, and she doesn't want to imagine how Cass would look, in the splendor of all of her wildness. Really, she doesn't.

The point is: Steph has always been pretty fond of animals, as long as she remembers. She liked observing them, be it on her Youtube account or through the windows of her house.

She's also always hated seeing them suffering unnecessarily. Once, she saw a bird getting its wings clipped: and it was unnecessary, and it was violence, and it was something Steph never managed to forget. That was one of the first time violence marked her mind, and that was when she told herself she'd remember all those time, would do her best to remember all that was unfair to never one day do the same.

But it's in her nature, in Cass's nature, to eat and catch the ones — birds, toads, lizards, any creatures— she can.

And she's been doing it less than Steph is convinced she usually does, when she's out of her waters.

And maybe she doesn't consider it as a sacrifice, and maybe what Steph has to offer instead is enough.

Still, she feels felonious in a way, when she tells her her request.

"Hey, Cass? Could you try avoiding eating cats and dogs?"

Cass's answers come easily, more easily than any sacrifice ought to be. "Yes." Maybe this is a confirmation it isn't one, then.

She doesn't ask for precisions, doesn't ask for compromises. She just say yes, and she adds "I can", and this is where it stops.

Steph is grateful. She wonders if things were always meant to be as easy as that. If things will always be. If, really, the normal she's feeling has always meant to be with someone so out of the norms.

She doesn't think she cares, entirely.

She looks back, toward the girl and the carcass she's holding within her hands, and she smiles.

Cass smiles back, blood on her teeth, and the blood isn't disturbing her, this once, this time. Steph's glad, really.

"Thanks', she says simply.

[inejinn]

Shadowed Troubles

"Aizawa is also realizing he’s either pretty shity at noticing some other things, or else maybe his students are masterminds at hiding those things. "

Or : basically 9k words of Aizawa investigating whether Tokoyami really is being bullied like he suspects he might be. (CW : implied bullying and discrimination)

part of the same universe as this fic ( and technically a continuation of it? ig?)

There’s nobody more skilled at avoiding eye-contact than a teen trying to hide their feelings. Aizawa isn’t talking about Todoroki, this time. Not that Todoroki has been keen on holding his gaze recently, but he has been slowly going back to his blank stare.

It’s Tokoyami that’s currently avoiding even looking in his direction, and Aizawa is half-tempted to call Hawks to deal with whatever this means. 

Unfortunately, this is part of his job, and unfortunately, he isn’t even sure Hawks would be of any help. He’s pretty sure the man would shrug and offer his apprentice to go out to fly, or something along the lines of. Unfortunately, he also cares too much about his students to just let it go.

Aizawa takes the last sip of his coffee, and he sets down his cup only after he’s enjoyed that last sip. He sits. His shadow follows. Tokoyami’s own stays firmly wrapped around the teen’s shoulders, not talking or even mumbling. Calm, for once.

"Procedure would have me summarize what happened, but I’m pretty sure you know more than I do”, he sits down, pushing papers out of his seat. “I’d also rather have your side of it.”

Tokoyami remains silent, and Aizawa sighs. He’d ask Tokoyami to just text him his explanation when he’ll be ready, but that’d definitely be against procedures then.

It’ll be easier to get through all of this while face to face, too.

Aizawa has the camera-rushes, but most of what he had the ability to see was a blurry, zoomed-in mess: Dark Shadow suddenly snapping at students that were seemingly simply talking to Tokoyami in a way that doesn’t make sense.

Tokoyami isn’t a violent person, or even one of his hot-heated students, like one specific blonde teen. He is strong-willed, yes, but if there’s something Tokoyami lacks, it's violence. He can be resolute, even harsher when needed, especially when it comes to villains and attacks, but never otherwise. Unless Aizawa has been blind to that aspect of him, but he highly doubts that. Tokoyami’s a soft person, he’s gotten to see that more than once.

“You can sit”, he invites the teen when he keeps standing behind the chair. A quick look informs him that there’s not anything he left on the seat, observation that’s confirmed when Tokoyami finally does sit down, still silently.

“You’re not in trouble”, he states. “You didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t insult them, just scared them.” 

He leaves in a blank space there, one that Tokoyami doesn’t fill in. His own fault, probably: he didn’t phrase anything as a question.  

“I just want to understand why exactly you decided to”, he adds when the teenager stays silent.

“…I did not.”, Tokoyami finally speaks. “Dark-Shadow went against my own begrudging will. I have formally apologized to them already.”

Dark Shadow almost makes move to come out of Tokoyami’s drawn back, but Aizawa doesn’t have time to tell her anything before she’s pulled back. Seemingly, Tokoyami doesn’t need his help to 'control her’.

(Sometimes, he wonders whether he should treat both of them as different people, but Tokoyami has shared before that she was 'nothing more than but a reflection of his own soul’. He had been dubious, but it’s true he’s been able to observe how smoothly she interacted with his emotions, answered to his feelings, much like most quirks do. 

Though, he should have known she wasn’t just like “most quirks”, and that on more than just a power-scale level. It was literally in Tokoyami’s words all since he first talked about her: she, not it. 

If Tokoyami considers her part of his soul, he’s not going to say he knows better than his student.)

“Right. Did she ?”

“No, she has not, and for that I have apologized in her stead already. I would have her apologize as well if I only could.”

Aizawa finds himself shrugging, once again. “I couldn’t care less if you did or didn’t. I do care to know why Dark Shadow won’t apologize.Mind sharing?”

“She has been… wary and stressed, and her temper blew too suddenly”, he says. Then he’s adding something else in a way that sounds like an afterthought to Aizawa’s ears. “On the wrong person.”

“Which means?” he asks Tokoyami.

He doesn’t answer immediately, but his hands go to scratch at his feathers again. 

The silence stretches on, and on, up until the teen finally does break it again.

“Nothing much, truthfully. They had been speaking too… loudly, and that was her snapping point. I have spoken to her already. Sensei, I hereby promise, it will not happen again.”

Well. If that was it, Aizawa is just fine keeping it at that. Bad days happen to everyone, he is very well aware of that. The event was harmless, anyway.

“Well“, he shrugs. ”As long as it doesn’t happen again, you’re fine. You can return to your dorm.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are a lot of things Aizawa prides himself in. Noticing is one of those things. Can’t be an underground hero if you don’t take notice of what’s happening around you. There’s a lot of things you need to be careful about, need to be on the lookout for. 

The twitch of a hand on a weapon, concealed in a pocket, for example.

Aizawa is also realizing he’s either pretty shity at noticing some other things, or else maybe his students are masterminds at hiding those things. He’s pretty sure it’s both, unfortunately.

It started with Deku and Bakugou’s situation, and it continued with Todoroki. That one situation isn’t solved, still ongoing, but now, there’s also another situation.

The morning he finally notices something is wrong is a rainy one. It means his joints aren’t happy with him, but it also means Dark Shadow is a much more active presence in class, with the sun hidden behind the clouds.

The sun being absent usually means Dark Shadow is more exuberant, a stark contrast to Tokoyami’s discreet attitude. Tokoyami manages to keep her under control well enough, though, so he lets it fly. When he doesn’t, the chaos is just her flying around and wreaking havoc in a way that doesn’t mean destruction. 

Tokoyami’s slowly been getting better and better at calming her down, too, and Aizawa hasn’t had to erase his quirk and her in a very long time.

So she’s in no way a concern. This morning is no exception, given Dark Shadow is busy enough trying to nibble on Sero’s pencils that he can simply leave her to it. Sero didn’t seem to mind and Tokoyami didn’t either, so that was fine to ignore.

There are gasps when he announces a test for next week, and there’s the usual chattering that calms down whenever he glares in the right direction. The occasional verbal fight almost started between an unwilling Midoriya and Bakugou, but they stopped themselves just in time. A nice peace of change.

The lesson goes as well as it could go.

Dark Shadow was withdrawn today, though. And that was the word he should have been looking for. Withdrawn. Not just calm, or at ease. He hadn’t realized, but it had been quite a while since he had last heard her shrill, or shouts, or even speak up in the middle of his sentence, disturbing classes.

He only realises because Yaoyorozu drags it to his shitty attention after classes, Iida standing straight behind her.

“..and so we were pretty worried, and decided to inform a trusted adult of the fact”, she finishes, something resolute in her gaze.

“Right. Thanks for telling me. Would you mind sharing more?”, he asks, pencil at the ready. Emotional comfort has never been his strong suit, but Aizawa does know how to reassure somebody through actions, if only slightly.

Here the way he starts taking notes is more for his own benefit than the students’ in front of him, but he’ll say it still counts.

“Sure sir!”, Iida goes. “What exactly would you want to know?”

“When you think it started, mostly”, he asks.

“Well, Hagakure was actually the first one who noticed. According to her, he started sitting alone at lunch, maybe around two weeks ago? He used to eat alone sometimes, but not nearly as often. Normally, he’d usually eat with her or Koda and Shoji.. We’ll ask her the exact date if you want it” is Yaoyorozu’s answer.

“That’s fine, thank you”, he says. He doesn’t like it, but his mind’s presenting him a suspicion it has been building ever since his class’s representatives started sharing their worries to him.  

Apparently, Tokyami has been eating as early as possible, when the rest of his class hadn’t even arrived at the cafeteria. Up until he had recently stopped eating there as a whole. And while the fact Tokoyami treasures his solitude doesn’t surprise him, it is odd for him to be refusing the free restoration service Yuei offers. And, most of all, it’s weird how this coincides with his sudden attitude in classes.

“I’ll be looking into it. Don’t hesitate coming back if you ever have more to share”, he says to Yaoyorozu and Iida.

“And thanks for informing me of this”, he adds, after the two of his students have firmly promised him they will.

He should have known something was going on earlier. Tokoyami might have a broody aura sometimes, but it’s always in a theatre-kid, dramatical or gothical way.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He convokes Hagakure to his office as soon as he can, so the following Wednesday. Yaoyorozu and Iida spoke to him only last afternoon, so he did it on a pretty short notice.

It’s all a bit too official, and it’s one of the first times he’s ever convoked anyone other than Midoriya and Todoroki, so he can understand why she would be so freaked out.

That, though, is a little much. He can’t see her twisting her hands anxiously around, quite obviously. But he can hear the way she is shuffling behind her seat, and accurately guess she is hesitant.

“You can sit”, he says. “Or don’t. Do whatever you want. This isn’t anything official, I just had a question to ask you.”

“Oh! Okay, phew. I thought I was in trouble. Not that I did anything that would have me in trouble! It’s just I thought maybe I had because, y'know, you convoked me and that’s not something you usually do, so….”

He blinks at the stream of words. Right. One of his chatty students.

“ Right. Well, consider this like a post-lesson discussion. This just needed a little more privacy”, he says, then cuts right to it. “Have you been noticing anything off about Tokoyami recently?”

There is a slight pause, and Aizawa can only suppose there is a confused expression on the face he can’t see. Wondering why he is asking her and not one of Tokoyami’s close friends instead, most likely. If he's asking her, specifically, it's because he's pretty sure she eats at the same time Tokoyami does.

“Hmm. Not really? I haven’t been talking to him much. Or well, he also hasn’t been talking much at all. Not that I mind! Koda doesn’t talk and it’s alright. It’s just that Tokoyami used to chat with us, so it’s weird he isn’t anymore, you know?”

No, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t tell her that, but he didn’t know, up until now. He was under the impression Tokoyami was quite quiet, outside of fights, as he is in class. Apparently he’s been wrong.

“Tell me more”, he asks Hagakure.

“Right, well, uhm- I don’t actually know that much, I’m not that close to him, even if he’s really nice! It’s just sometimes I don’t know all the books he’s referencing so I feel a little bad about my lack of culture.”, she starts to ramble.

 At his unimpressed stare, she catches herself, air glittering around, probably the movement of her hands. “Anyway, yes, sorry. My point is, usually I’d still sit with him at lunch at least once a week, but recently he hasn’t even been going on lunch breaks anymore? Not since the incident, you know, when Dark Shadow kind of snapped. Kind of everyone was talking about it afterwards even if we weren't a lot of students present to see.”

That he hadn’t known either. Really, he might not give any mind to most gossip, but it is a wonder how he hasn’t heard about any of that so-called “incident”. Gossip and rumors usually proliferate in school like cockroach infestations, which means they get everywhere once they start: it’s a wonder they managed not to reach the teacher’s lounge, then.

He knows it didn’t reach the lounge for a very simple fact: UA’s policies strictly forbid any form of harassment. The only reason he’s somewhat aware of what happened was because Lunch Rush told him about hearing chaos and only ‘seeing’ Tokoyami's quirk wrapped protectively around him afterwards, when he got out of the kitchens.

His eye twitches, he’s pretty sure, judging by the way Hagakure’s nervous rambling trails off. Right. Not intimidating his students start by being less “terryifing-looking”. Right.

“Would you please tell me more about that “incident”?”, he asks, trying and hopefully not failing to sound kinder.

“Oh, sure! Well, so, there was that one group of students. They kept sitting close to his table even though the cafeteria is always almost empty whenever Tokoyami and I get there -I like being able to leave before rush time happens, people pushes me around less, I guess it’s the same for him- and I guess that one time those students were laughing and speaking louder than usual because Dark Shadow just went big. She started screaming but I didn’t hear everything. I think she screamed at them to leave her and Tokoyami alone?”

Throughout the girl’s explanation, Aizawa feels the realization hits him: gradually at first, but now it’s just evident. If Dark Shadow snapped, she had a reason for it, and the reason feels too much like bullying for his peace of mind.

“And he’s been eating out of the cafeteria since then.”

“Yes,” Hagakure confirms. 

There’s an obvious questioning tone to her voice, but Aizawa doesn’t want her to panic just yet. “Did you notice if the group kept their usual habits?”

“As in eating at the same table?”

“Yes.”

“No, I don’t think so! I’m not even sure I saw them again after that, honestly. They probably started to eat later.”

Aizawa nods, then. It’s not enough information to do anything yet, but it is still something. “Any names?”

“Oh, no, I don’t know them, sorry. I’m not even sure if the group Dark Shadow got upset at was the same one as the other group, I didn’t really pay attention to their faces. They looked like higher years though.  …Can I ask why you’re asking all of that? Is there a problem with Tokoyami? ”

“No”, he answers. A bit too stern, too quick. “Well. I’m not sure everything is going well for him. I won't tell you not to talk and support him, but I'll ask of you to please not overwhelm him further if he doesn't want to talk about it. I'm already looking into it., he says, somehow softer, hopefully.

“Oh. Of course! I'll be really discreet about it, I swear. Is there more I could do to help?”, she asks. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Up, for once.

“No. I'll ask you if I ever think so, though.”

“Sure!”, she goes, just as enthusiastic to help as the rest of her class is. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His left eye twitches in its socket.

Denki’s paper is not the reason, though it is going to be a grade that’ll be less good than its predecessor. Aizawa can deal with that. He’ll deal with it later. He can’t deal with the conversation he’s currently overhearing anymore.

“Are you two going to take this away from my desk or do I have to know the rest of that anecdote?”, he finally asks.

Nemuri’s attention turns to him, and he does not like that smile. It reeks of evil, and of a let-me-drag-you-into-this-right-away type of mess. 

“What? I thought you lovedddd hearing about our romantic life?”

Nezu should have instaurated a no-chatting-when-in-the-teacher-lounge policy years before. Aizawa’s been doing this for too long . He considers retirement one more time.

He stares. Surely, it’s enough to get his point across. He’s known them for long enough he’s well aware staring doesn’t intimidate them in the slightest.

It doesn’t there either. If the curtains to the window weren’t closed, he would seriously consider throwing one of them through it, if he wasn’t too well installed to go through the effort.

“I’ve never said that”, he grunts out.

“But you thought so, right?”

“He’d rather pretend he’s not interested in learning allll there is to know about our fantastic life and listen in instead” Hizashi interferes.

“Because he doesn't care enough to learn about your life?” Nemuri fake-gapes.

 Demon on the shoulder of another demon, is what they are. The day they stop influencing each other is the day one of them is dead, or one loses their memory.

“Right, sure”, he deadpans, going back to silently glare at the paper. 

Another red annotation joins the other. 

He tries to remember when Nezu said he’d be available to see him.He hasn’t been paying enough attention to the instructions telling them how to handle bullying. He needs to get on that sooner than later, really. This is already late enough.

“What’s got you so short-tempered today?” Nemuri comes closer to him to dramatically whisper in his ear. "Headache? Bakugo snapped again? Hero-related struggle? Todoroki refusing to get help with his injuries”?

“No. It’s Tokoyami’s problem.”

“Ah. He’s still not speaking to his friends?”, she asks, having the decency to snap back to serious when needed.

“No. I’m pretty sure Midoriya’s this close to pulling an intervention and dragging all the class to my office if this keeps on going. Tokoyami’s still avoiding them all.”

“Is that why you asked Nezu to see the camera recordings? That’s a bit much considering Tokoyami’s not the most social to start with, maybe he’s just been wanting some peace and quiet”, she shrugs. 

“Kind of like baby–teen-you used to.” Hizashi chimes in.

“It’s not just that.”, he says, tone colder than the teasing would usually warrant. “I think he’s been getting bothered by older students. If not bullied. It could look like it on some of the camera rushes.” 

Too regularly, a group comes, sits next to wherever Tokyami is sitting, then inevitably starts laughing. Tokoyami never seems to be laughing back with them.

Aizawa pulls at his eyelid and grabs the vial sitting on his desk. One drop, two drops, three. The saline’s put down with a thump. They're not sufficient because they didn't hear, mostly, so the recordings can’t count as proof, but also because they didn’t pick out their faces and so he can’t identify them and go interrogate them, either.

“Oh.” Nemuri says, straightening up. “And you couldn’t tell which students, I assume.”

He couldn’t. Or else those students would have already been expelled . But of course, they just had to get lucky in their seating choice. Too far away from the camera for it to see details, just shapes. That’s something he can notify the director of, at least, but it’s not something that makes things easier for either him or Tokoyami.

“No. I’m still trying to find a way to identify them.”

“Maybe you should find a moment to talk to him in between two classes, that’s what I’d do”, Nemuri advises him. Aizawa glares a little more at the red traces of pen on Denki’s paper.

“I tried already. He clearly looked uncomfortable each time, but he didn’t share anything.” Every time he asked to talk to him after classes, Tokoyami was always quick to flee.

( “My apologies, Sensei, but I must go. We have a test in mathematics and Mr. Ectoplasm does not like us being late for them.”

“Hmm. I can write you an excuse slip.”

“I truly would rather not miss time to prepare my copy. It pains me to admit it, but mathematics is not a course I excel at.

“... Fine. Later, then”, he had said. 

There had been no laters yet.)

“Ever thought about having him come to your office after classes?” Hizashi intervenes. “And just ask, directly.”

 Aizawa blinks, considering, two long seconds. That could work.

Maybe. Maybe just asking would be enough for Tokoyami to confide in him. He has his doubts, though. He’ll be trying sooner than later, though. Not this evening since he needs to go patrolling, but soon.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Usually, Aizawa would not be working on a Sunday, except to go patrolling. He touches very exactly zero sheets of paper that’s accidentally been brought back to his dorm suite.

This is very likely why Hizachi and Nemuri keep dragging him out to “enjoy his weekend and live a little”. His own fault, then. 

( “Come on, you haven’t stopped complaining all week long”

“ Only a week? You’re being generous! Pretty sure it’s been a full month.”

“Sure, sure. He’s been way more upset in the past week though”

“I don’t see the point in us going to the bar if I don’t plan on getting drunk”

“Why not? It can’t be worse than last time”

“He’s going patrolling after.”

“Hah, right. Don’t worry, we’ll be drunk enough for you then!”, Nemuri had said, and then he had gotten dragged along. Quite literally.) 

He brought his own demise onto himself, really. 

So Aizawa gets back later than he usually does, which does allow him to get to see which of his students are still awake at this hour. And- Shinsho’s here, which comes as a surprise.

The part where he’s out of his dorm and in the common room is not what’s surprising- that’s the norm. 

It’s the other part of the situation that comes as a surprise. 

Shinsho’s asleep, in a way that seems deep.

Aizawa doesn’t stare for too long before he’s switching off the light. Shinsho seems to have picked a comfortable enough position for once.

None of the other usuals insomniacs of the class are there. Not too surprising. They don’t tend to see each other that often. Their nightly schedules don’t usually correlate too often. It’s actually been a while since Aizawa caught any of them spending their night in the common kitchen or living room. Still, there’s something about that that doesn’t sit too right with him.

He shrugs it off, though. It’s late. Classes start again in less than 6hours. Sleep is awaiting him.

(Instead of getting as much sleep as he’d like, Aizawa spends a good chunk of his night comparing pictures of students IDs to blurs on a screen.)

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He should have known something was going on earlier. Tokoyami might have a broody aura sometimes, but it’s always in a theatre-kid, dramatical or gothical way. 

Now that he’s paying attention, really paying attention, the way Tokoyami’s retreat seems far different than his usual isolation. Isolation that he had stepped out of since the beginning of the school year, too.

He leaves early, not waiting for Shouji like he had been doing up until three weeks ago. 

This is just one of the examples Aizawa gets to see, as the bell rings to announce the five minutes intermission necessary to travel between classrooms.  

There’s more than that, and probably some others he can’t see. He doesn’t like what Tokoyami’s isolation can imply.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, in the span of a single week, Iida and Yaoyorozu are standing in front of him after classes. Just like that last Thursday, and just like always, their stance is straight. Resolute. This time though, they weren’t the ones initiating the conversations, and so there’s also a bit of confusion alongside their apparent fervorness to be of help.

Though said confusion is quick to fade when he speaks out.  “I assume you want to know why you’re here. I need you to keep an eye out for Tokoyami.”

Realization twists Yaoyozoru’s features in a single second. “Oh! This is about what Hagakure saw, isn’t it?”

Aizawa raises a single eyebrow. Asks, “You know about this?”.

“She shared her worries to us like we did to you, yes. We didn’t tell anyone else, however”, Iida speaks up.  Aizawa’s pretty sure he’s this close to bowing out an unnecessary apology, but he doesn’t, ultimately. Good. Aizawa’s glad that his students are looking out for each other that way.

“Right. Great. That makes it easier, then. I’ll be straightforward: I’m pretty sure Tokoyami has been getting bullied, but I haven’t been able to tell by who yet. If you could, make sure no one is bothering him and tell me who, if anyone does.” 

“Sure, sir!”, Iida says at the same time that Yaoyozuru affirms “We definitely can and will be doing that.”

Hmm. They reacted so quickly Aizawa is pretty sure there is more to that than just a fast  reaction time. 

“No pulling any tricks or any spying”, he has to clarify, just in case. As much as he wants to get to the bottom of this, he can’t really have his students get into trouble trying to pull their own justice. Again. God forbid they have a repeat of the incident. “Keep your costumes and fake mustaches to your closet, please.”

Immediately, Iida goes to scramble an explanation and a categorical refusal. “Obviously! We would never, it is something that must be entrusted to teachers and adults. We didn’t even consider-”

Aizawa wishes he was oblivious enough not to realise the lie that is. Unfortunately, he remembers well enough the two of them were part of the team that went to save Bakugo, and so he can only sigh and pretend like they won’t do as they find fair anyway.

“Tells Hagakure that as well. And avoid telling more of your classmates about this. The only reason I’ve told you is because you’re the class representatives and I trust you not to make Tokoyami feel put on the spot.”

“We won’t. You have our promise. We’ve been doing our best to include and cheer him up, too.”

Yaoyozoru’s affirmation is followed by the firm nod of Iida. That’s at least something Aizawa doesn’t have to worry about.

Tokoyami hasn’t agreed to a meeting yet, claiming he had tests to be revising for. It’s a problem, but at least that way he’ll hopefully not be getting bothered in the meantime. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He should have drank less caffeine this afternoon.

Right now his hands are as jumbled as his thoughts are, which isn’t too practical when keeping a villain in the clutches of his capture weapon. Luckily he’s used to acting on few hours of sleep and many of sleep-deprivation, and so doing so single-handed while calling the police isn’t too hard of a thing to do. 

The guy he’s holding groan something to him, dramatic.

“Hey! Don’t slam me down again!”

Aizawa hushing him comes too naturally. “I didn’t. Don’t try getting into people’s houses again”, he says, and then he’s back to giving their location to the agent on the line. The man’s whiskers fluffs out in irritation, exactly like his expression does, but Aizawa ignores it.

“We’ll be there at 2:10”, the officer answers him. He grunts out something that’s meant to be an agreement. 

A full twenty one minutes later and the police car finally arrives. There’s two officers: Aizawa acknowledges them with a curt nod, ignoring their greetings in order to transfer the man he had been monitoring into their custody.

“Hah. That’s one weird mutt of a criminal. Should have expected it when we got the call.”, he thinks he hears one of the cops say when they look at the criminal. 

His head snaps to the man in a way that he knows is seen as unnerving. “What did you say”, he lets out. His voice’s usually cold: it’s even colder this time.

“Uh, uhm, nothing! Nothing!”, the officer cowers. 

“I’d hope so. Especially with what your duties and line of field imply.”

There’s a grumbled sort of what Aizawa’s pretty sure is meant to be an half-assed attempt at an explanation, but no excuse.

Aizawa keeps glaring as they keep working.

Then the car’s leaving, and Aizawa lets his gaze follow it for a full five seconds before his mind starts drifting back to his other concerns. 

He almost misses the shadow creeping onto him. When he notices it, it’s too late, and the figure standing behind him is much too close when he immediately turns around when he does.

The cat sitting there mewls. It’s a singular, judgmental noise.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Afternoon classes are usually the pinnacle of noises, to the deepest regret of his eardrums. Aizawa can think of a few different reasons : the students are more energetic than at eight in the morning, they’ve just gotten out of a lunch break that’s a bit too short for teenagers to get out all of their energy, and the following hours will be physical and quirk training ones. Cue the commotion. That doesn’t prevent him from taking a nap while they work on their projects, though. 

At least, usually. His gaze focuses on Ashido’s group, composed of her, Koda and Jiro. Mina is unsurprisingly being louder than the researches asked of them warrant, but it’s Koda and Jiro he’s looking at. Jiro’s talking back, and smiling, apparently not too bothered by the ambient noise around her. Koda’s silent, but he seems comfortable, and he does intervene from time to time.

Behind them, Tokoyami is as silent as Koda, but without the small smile Koda sports when looking at his teammate. On previous group works, Tokoyami had been more active than the current only occasional comments. Aizawa gets the sense Midoriya’s frown is not because he’s struggling on the work they’re meant to be. 

Aizawa’s gaze lingers. Until he pulls it back toward his laptop, that is. The document on his screen has been sent by Nezu to him on his demand, and it’s one he needs to focus on. The procedure’s fairly simple, he’s learning, as long as there are either proofs or testimonies. 

Unfortunately, he has none for now, and suspicions are not enough to get bullying students excluded or even punished.  

For now, he has the worries of three of Tokoyami’s classmates, but no recordings proving anything, or no witnesses. Hagakure doesn’t count, unfortunately, because the only thing she witnessed was Dark Shadow and Tokoyami snapping, and not who exactly they had snapped at. He has no other options than get him to talk to him this evening, really.

He’s asked staff members to keep an eye out for anything out of the norm, but he’s not going to just keep it at that when he could be doing more.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hopefully having to convoke his students won’t become something he’ll have to get used to. He doesn’t mind the idea of private meetings to help them with their individual problems, but he does, really, mind those problems.

“So. I’ll be direct. I’ve been hearing and seeing things that have been concerning me.”

Tokoyami, in front of him, is sitting, and he is busy pretending everything is fine, which does not make sense to Aizawa. 

He gets not wanting to worry others and keeping troubles quiet, but others are already worrying, here.

“... I do not see what you’re talking about, sir. I haven’t heard of any rumors”, the teen says.

He ignores that. Tokoyami’s not a fool, and he’s not going to pretend he is just because the boy wants to act oblivious. 

“Tokoyami. If students bother any students, tell any teacher and they’ll react accordingly.” 

“... What would said reactions be, sir? Consequences for the perpetrators, I assume, but which? Exclusion? ”

“It depends. That can be the case, yes. Exclusion can happen. Depending on the proportions of the "perpetrator" ‘s actions. It can also be a note in the academic record, or hours of detention. My point is whatever is happening, if you tell us, we’ll make sure to take care of it.”

“Hm. May I ask one more question?”, Tokoyami asks, still looking at Aizawa right into his eyes. He stares back.

“Yes.” Obviously. He doesn’t know what the teen is getting at, though. He’s not sure he should have started the conversation the way he did, but it’s too late to regret the way he did now.

“What do you imply, by bothering?”

“Calling names, insulting, making fun of. Or anything physical. On a singular time, or repeatedly”, he says, echo of the official documents he’s been reading.

“Bullying, then? “

“Well. Yes. And I need the names of the bullies in order to be able to do anything about them, Tokoyami.”

“Oh. I’ll reassure you, then. I’m not being bullied. I”, Tokoyami starts to say, and then Aizawa’s office is erupting into an explosion of noise.

Dark Shadow’s suddenly bursting from Tokoyami, and Aizawa suddenly gets why villains and students alike flee when she does. His hand, almost, flies to his scarf. The only reason Aizawa doesn’t startle is because he’s used to boisterous, sudden reactions due to his friends and years of teaching. 

“No ! No! No! No” Dark Shadow screams.

“Dark Shadow, be quiet”, Tokoyami hisses at her. 

Aizawa feels his spine straightening. Tokoyami’s suddenly more expressive than he’s been since he first convoked him, which is at least a start. He doesn’t like the fact that’s over trying to snuff down Dark Shadow when she seems to be wanting to tell what he’s really feeling.

“No! I will not! They are not deserving of our silence! Not longer! They-”

The legs of the chair screech. Tokoyami stands up very abruptly.

“I don’t want to talk about it further”, he says, and Aizawa’s not sure who he’s speaking to.

“My apologies.” he says, now standing up and turning towards him, and that’s definitely addressed toward Aizawa. “Thanks for your worries, but I assure you, they are excessive. I am fine. "

And then he’s leaving, not without a respectful bow, but gone anyway before Aizawa can say more. He likely wouldn’t have forced him to stay. But his lack of a reaction leaves a sour taste in his mouth anyway. Aizawa’s hand drops from his scarf to tighten into it instead.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The song gets louder, the pitch even higher. Aizawa considers putting earbuds he doesn’t own in. He also considers telling Hizashi to shut up: he doesn’t. He just lays on the floor, and waits for him to stop, eventually.

Waking up is as quick as it always has been, unfortunately. Aizawa emerges from his sleeping bag to see Hizashi standing some feet away from the table, now done singing. The papers on it might be English tests, apparently forgotten ones.

Hizashi opens his mouth. Aizawa groans.

“Have you solved Tokoyami’s problem yet?” Hizashi still asks.

“No.” He states. If he could just go back to sleep, he would. Hizashi reminded him he can’t just do that, unfortunately.

Said man cocks an eyebrow at him. Inquisition.

“He hasn’t come back, and nothing yet officially happened. Those students aren’t doing anything concrete on the cameras recording, just, glaring at him. I can’t ask Nezu to punish them, yet, there’s no official proof.” If he were a different man, Aizawa would just go punching. His morals prevent him from punching any kids, as much as he’d currently like to for those. Instead his hands close more tightly around his grip on his sleeping bag.

The frown Hizashi makes is the empathy he and Nemuri so rarely show him when they’re together, probably.

 

"Maybe Jiro could have heard anything. It would count as a proof, right?”, Hizashi offers, earnest as can be.

“Yes”, he says. It’s a good idea, really. He could ask Jiro, too. His frown’s back in an instant, though, because he’s not sure involving yet another student in Tokoyami’s private matters would be a good idea when he so expressively showed him he didn’t want him getting involved. But then again, he can’t let this go on just because of that when Tokoyami has so clearly been affected by the situation. 

He’s contacted his parents, already, but they’ve told him their child hasn’t shared anything to them, either. And they’re worried now, obviously.

Aizawa forgoes a frustrated sigh. He is going to find a solution, eventually, it just needs to be done more quickly than it currently is.

( “No, he hasn’t told anything to me or his mom. He was a bit stressed about upcoming tests at some point, but after that he’s only been telling us positive things about his days. Why? Is he really that low-spirited?”

“ Yes. Unfortunately.  But I’m not calling just to tell you that. He-”

“What? What’s wrong? He didn’t get injured, right?”

“No. But I’m heavily suspecting he’s been getting bothered by some students, if not bullied. I’m currently looking into who they are, but I can’t actually do anything until I know who they are.”

A sigh. “He hasn’t told you or anyone?”  

Aizawa’s eyebrows had furrowed, at that. 

“No.”

 “He gets it from his mom, I fear. He’s always been too stubborn for his own good. He did the same as a kid when that happened.”

“ ‘When that happened’ meaning?”)

He folds his sleeping bag up with none of his usual care, accidentally creasing the yellow fabric. Aizawa’s face twists even further down.

“I fucked up when trying to get him to talk to me”, he blurts out. “ I don’t know how I should have done it, but it wasn’t this way.” He messed up. Bad. Instead of reassuring Tokoyami, he likely convinced him he’d cause students to get expelled, when UA is so prestigious to get into. This is not how to get someone possibly being bullied to admit it. Aizawa fucked up.

“... Shota. You tried your best, right?”

“That’s not enough.” Not when there is one of his students that hasn’t been his usual self for more than a month now. Not when it’s one of his duties to make sure all of his students are alright. Definitely not when Tokoyami so clearly hasn’t been, and doesn’t trust him enough to be telling him why.

“I’m not saying the opposite, but I don’t think I would have done any better. I think we all need to take a training course. Hell, even multiple ones! The only ones we had were at the beginning of our formation and that was decades ago,” Hizachi tells him, taking his bag and unfolding it to roll it correctly. 

Aizawa has to prevent himself from glaring at him. He doesn’t end up doing so.

“I’m being serious! You showed him you were worried for him. You’ve also been doing all you can to figure out the identity of the bullies. It’s not enough, but it’s a start, and that’s better than doing nothing and leaving him to handle it alone. And it’s not like you’re planning to give up on him too, ay?” Hizashi’s waiting for an answer, Aizawa’s known him long enough to be aware of that. The man’s known him for long enough not to expect one, though, so he ends up settling on a singular grunt.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The worst is that for a moment there, Aizawa doubted himself, during that conversation. Tokoyami seemed conflicted, but maybe he was just anxious, worried, upset. 

Aizawa was sure the cause of his problems was the teens of the camera recording and bullying, but maybe something vastly different was actually weighing on Tokoyami’s mind. According to his parents, nothing was worrying him, but children don’t always share everything with their parents, that’s at least something Aizawa’s sure about. 

The thought that Tokoyami could be downcast because of reasons only personal to him had come through his mind. 

But then. Dark Shadow had intervened. “They don’t deserve our silence”, she had said. Something like that: so that’s a confirmation to Aizawa’s suspicions. But now he doesn’t know what to do, because Tokoyami very clearly doesn’t want him insisting. 

He can try redirecting him to other teachers, still. To Hound Dog or any other of the counselors. He’ll likely do that. He’d start drafting an email, but he’d rather speak to Hound Dog while face to face. Gets his advice, too, which he really should have done days ago, actually.

The sighs escaping his lungs finally finish doing so.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning. First hour of the day: the class’s bursting with noise. He’s used to it, though. 

That doesn’t keep him from scowling, obviously. 

It’s not like he can say much, though, because this session is the last one he gave his class in order to complete their project, so the noise’s only expected. Between the adrenaline rush and the panicking and the usual loudness, the chaos’ pretty much expected. 

Aizawa, for once, is doing what’s expected of him and skimming through his emails, occasionally reading the important ones. Skipping the ones where the subjects already are explicit enough. 

Students are apparently asking for a supervisor that’d agree to look over a gardening club. Cameras around the school are going to be replaced soon. Schedules might have to be scrambled around in order to prepare for the coming up exams. 

“Sorry, Sensei? Our group had a question” ‘s asked. 

Aizawa looks up, stopping his lazy scrolling. He’ll read those last emails later. 

“Yeah?”, he answers Midoriya, his gaze slipping to the rest of his group.

“So, we were wondering-” 

And there he goes into a ramble. Aizawa brings his attention back to the teen standing in front of him. He might not reexplain everything, but he can clarify if needed. 

It’s ironic, how he’s the one that ends up needing for Midoriya to re-explain the start of his question, given he had missed it.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somebody knocks on his door. Hizashi doesn’t come in immediately, probably expecting him to be sleeping his lunch break away. Aizawa wishes he was.

Unfortunately, he isn’t, and he wouldn’t mind Hizashi bothering his attention away from his copies for once. Aizawa waits for him to barge in. The letters keep flying by under his eyes as he reads, and the door to his office stays closed. Hah. 

He sits up straighter, as hurried as he should probably be.

“You can come in”, he tells the student waiting behind the door.

Said student does, and Aizawa raises an eyebrow when he sees which one of his it is.

“Sensei, hello. My apologies for disturbing your break, but I have.. I must share something I believe to be important.”, Tokoyami says.

Wrapped in his cape, Tokoyami just stands there after he’s done speaking. Aizawa hurries a little more quickly to the door than his usual to acknowledge him.

“No problem.”

The clock and its hands keep moving forward. 

Aizawa considers using the break to pull out his eye drops.

 He considers asking Tokoyami if he’s eaten yet, too, but he’s not certain that’d be the right path to take. 

Considers a lot of things and prefer waiting for Tokoyami to be ready, in the end. 

The usual brand of tea he’s found Todoroki to like is almost pushed away to a corner of his desk before he suddenly realises that this might help Tokoyami, too. It might have helped last time. It might have helped Hagakure be less stressed, too. The epiphany as small as it is, stings a bit.

“Tea?”, he goes, pushing it towards the boy this time. The leaves sloshes around in their can, the only thing breaking through the silence until Tokoyami finally speaks up. After no more than a few seconds, but it’s still noticeable enough considering the previous lapse of silence.

Dark Shadow finally comes out, wrapping herself protectively around Tokoyami’s hand. It twitches. Aizawa drags his gaze to his cup of tea.

The leaves he didn’t take out yet swirls around, unbothered.

“Yes, thank you.”

Aizawa doesn’t blink, but it’s a very near thing. If after all of this, it’s tea that finally gets Tokoyami speaking, he won’t complain or say a thing, but he is surprised.

He stands up. Hopefully Tokoyami doesn’t mind his tea micro-waved, he realizes when he’s standing in front of the appliance. 

He asks.

“I don’t” ‘s the teen answers, one that’s immediately interrupted by his quirk’s appearance. 

“Go on! Just tell him!”, she says.

“Dark Shadow, we’ve talked about this”, Tokoyami whispers in a way that Aizawa can’t fairly qualify as furiously. Strained, maybe. He stays cautiously turned towards the microwave: stares at the spiraling movement of the cup of tea instead of the reflection in the plastic.

“Yes! You said you’d tell him!”

“And you said you’d let me handle it”

“you don’t handle things well”, she whispers back before, supposedly , retreating back. 

The microwave emits a beep just as the cup stops spinning.

Aizawa turns toward the two, and, indeed, Dark Shadow retreated. She’s behind Tokoyami, turning her back to him. Essentially sulking, then.

Wordlessly, Aizawa offers the cup to Tokoyami. The teen accepts it with a thanks, and then back to the silence they go again. 

It’s broken more quickly this time, though. 

“Sensei.”, Tokoyami suddenly steel himself, settling the cup down. “I must confess: I haven’t been quite honest with you, and a sudden epiphany has brought me to see the errors of my ways.”

Aizawa’s heart does a sort of somersault, one that he’s careful not to let appear on his emotion. Tokoyami might just be getting ready to finally be telling him about what’s been bothering him the past weeks. Whether that’s the case or not, Aizawa doesn’t want to scare him away. He keeps quiet, given Tokoyami doesn’t seem to plan on slowing down on his so-called confession.

“ I fear my silence has brought more harm than good, and for that I apologize”, he’s saying, and Aizawa feels his eyebrows fighting him to visibly furrow. He doesn’t know why Tokoyami would be apologizing. Bullies victims do apparently often feel at fault, but it’s still odd- and Aizawa needs to remind himself this might not be what’s going on.

Reminder that is quite immediately rendered useless.

“There are students that have started saying invidious things about some of my fellow classmates and friends, and I am quite sure they would not have been able to if I had acted when I first had the chance to.”

Aizawa straightens up. He doesn’t get to say anything though, because Tokoyami is immediately going back to his declaration. 

“Although they have been lucky enough not to hear those insults, I can’t let that be a possibility. You said last week teachers would react accordingly to hearing about such behaviour, so-”

“So we’re snitching! It’s necessary!”, Dark Shadow screams out.

“Don’t call it snitching.”, Aizawa finally interrupts. “You’re actually doing what’s right, calling out offensive behaviour. Dark Shadow is right.” With those words he gestures to her, small acknowledgement. “ Yes, teachers are definitely going to be taking action. I do need to hear more though.”

His gaze’s resolute, he’s sure : just as much as the emotions he’s currently feeling.

“As much as you’re comfortable retelling”, he does have the presence of mind to add. Even if only as an after-thought. 

“Yes. Obviously. They have been mocking Koda’s unusual appearance, as well as calling him and Asui derogatory terms, and I-”

Dark Shadow makes a sharp appearance, one that almost has Aizawa activating his quirk out of instinct, before she settles around Tokoyami’s frame again. 

Tokyami takes a breath in, one that’s deep enough to make the feathers of his wrists move. “Sorry.”

Aizawa doesn’t blame him. If the quirk he had gotten at birth had been similar to Dark Shadow, he’s really not sure how much he would have been able to rein her in right about now, or even if he would have been able to. There’s a touch of admiration he’s aware of amongst the many other emotions storming around his brain, right now, for the way Tokoyami manages his calm.

“No need to apologize”, he says. “Are those “they” specific people?” He’s asking, but he’s entirely convinced they are, and he’s even more convinced he knows which group of people Tokoyami is currently talking about.

“Oh. Yes.”

Tokoyami seems frazzled, maybe. Aizawa can’t really tell why. He can only hope it isn’t because Tokoyami still isn’t planning on telling him their identities.

His grasp gets tighter on the handle of his own cup. He gets a breath out. One that’s smaller than Tokoyami’s own, but still a deep one. “How long has this been going on for?”

“They’ve only started being offensive towards Tsuyu and Koda today. I decided to come as soon as I could.”

Deep breath, Aizawa’s subconscious is actively reminding him. “And how long have they been acting offensively towards you, Tokoyami?”

“Oh”, the boy says. Genuinely caught off guard by the question, if Aizawa is believing the lack of dramatic flair to it. “Uhm. About around three weeks, I believe.”

“Four and a half”, Dark Shadow chimes in.

“...Yes. Quite about that long.”

That’s long. That’s really long, considering what Tokoyami’s saying imply they’ve kept doing it after he stopped going to the cafeteria.

“Okay.”, Aizawa settles on. “And what have they been saying?”

“Using, bird names to refer to me, and things amongst the line of, mostly. I didn’t really remember them all, truly. Following me around to do that, as well, but that was merely it.”

This time, Aizawa can’t prevent the inclination of his eyebrows. He does try to lower the edge to his voice, however. 

“Those “things”. Would you be okay with anyone telling them to your friends?”

“I believe most of them would not have been deemed derogatory to them, nor truly impacted them.”

“What about the others? “

“No! I would definitely not be okay with that. That’s why I immediately went to you when these people started to”, Tokoyami answers, feathers puffing up in offense. 

“Right. Were any of those words derogatory to you?”, he asks Tokoyami, trying to show him his point.

“Well. I…”

( “He’d only tell his teachers or us when the kids were mean to other kids. He’d say he didn’t mind about the rest, when we asked.“

“And what was “the rest”? You never said”, Aizawa asks. He thinks he knows, has a guess. It’s necessary of him to ask.

“Oh. Kids making fun of him for his appearance. Insulting him.”, Tokoyami’s father says, with a voice ringing of a type of grief Aizawa’s never had to know. 

“Calling him a monster. Or a freak.”)

“I guess so, yes, some might be deemed so. I’d rather we focus on today’s event, though, if possible.”

Aizawa’s eyelid is twitching, something he notices when taking another subtle deep breath in. “We will have to talk about that at some point. Be it with me or any other teacher you’d be more comfortable with. But that’s not something I can just pretend is fine and alright.”

“... Yes. Right.” 

Tokoyami visibly grows uncomfortable, for one of the first times since he first came into the room. Visibly uncomfortable, but not hiding it, with the exception of looking down at the desk instead of straight into Aizawa’s eyes like previously. It’s an improvement from before, at least. 

Saying it’s a show of trust might be a stretch, so Aizawa abstains from it.

“Right. Can you identify them?” 

There’s something that goes steely in Tokoyami’s eyes at that: Aizawa’s glad for it, in a way. But he has the sense this resolution is meant more for Koda and Tsuyu than for Tokoyami himself. Which. He’s appreciative of his students’ protective tendencies amongst each other. But sometimes, he really, truly wishes -he would possibly be praying for it if he was religious- that they’d turn all the energy they put into helping their classmates and friends (and strangers alike) more towards themselves. 

“Yes.” Tokoyami’s nod is firm. 

A selfish and unbothered part of Aizawa’s brain is glad the boy’s not so emotive, because Aizawa as a whole doesn’t know how to comfort people well, but there’s also the other parts: The ones that are upset that Tokoyami is not getting upset over people that have been giving him hell. Or not letting himself getting upset about it.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tokoyami. Also.” Aizawa asks, later, when the tea has gone fully cold and he’s had to reheat it twice already. The boy was just about to leave, but there’s one more thing Aizawa hasn’t mentioned.

“Yes?”, the boy asks. Dark Shadows behind him, still, but she’s unwrapped herself from his frame. She’s just hovering around, but Aizawa’s realizing it’s a familiar sight he had come to miss seeing.

“Your classmates have been worried about you”, he says. There’s a whole lot more he wants to say, wants to ask. He settles on that though. For now, at least. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On his phone, there’s a pending email that he answers pretty much as early as he can. 

There’s another one, too, one that does alleviate a bit of his frustration at the previous' content, the slowness of the proof-collecting processus.

Ground Dog's telling him Tokoyami agreed to more sessions with him. The first one –a trial session Tokoyami has been willing to try– went well, apparently. That’s all he can disclose, but the information’s enough to put contentment to Aizawa’s mind. 

There’s a link to a video too, –at the bottom of the email– that Aizawa clicks on. Testimonies, it seems, compiled into one long video that makes up a documentary. It’s not one of the many he’s already watched. He starts playing the video pretty much right away, even if he’s not sure he’ll be able to watch it fully today

.

And yes, it isn’t enough, it still isn’t, but being aware starts with being informed, he’s aware of that. So videos start piling up in his history, and he starts to watch more and more, as many as he can, really. It doesn’t make him qualified, not yet, but at least he’s starting to be less blind to the discrimination people with mutant quirks have to deal with on a daily basis. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tokoyami’s also starting to be more of an active presence amongst his classmates again. Dark Shadow, too. Aizawa’s not sure if the two of them have talked to their classmates about what happened this last month, but at least they’ve been going back to the cafeteria with some of them, now that the bullies, higher years –like Hagakure had suspected– from the general course, have been banned from using it. 

Hi! i have no clue if the timeline makes sense, i've been working on this fic for the past three months from times to times so pretty much everything is jumbled, sorry! I would have imploded if I kept working on it though, so here it is as is. I hope it's not too confusing, but if it is, don't hesitate asking questions, i'll be glad to answer them!! off to bed i go now (it's 2am and i need to wake up early to go to my internship)

[inejinn]

Shadowed Troubles

"Aizawa is also realizing he’s either pretty shitty at noticing some other things, or else maybe his students are masterminds at hiding those things. "

Or : basically 9k words of Aizawa investigating whether Tokoyami really is being bullied like he suspects he might be. (CW : implied bullying and discrimination)

part of the same universe as this fic ( and technically a continuation of it? ig?)

There’s nobody more skilled at avoiding eye-contact than a teen trying to hide their feelings. Aizawa isn’t talking about Todoroki, this time. Not that Todoroki has been keen on holding his gaze recently, but he has been slowly going back to his blank stare.

It’s Tokoyami that’s currently avoiding even looking in his direction, and Aizawa is half-tempted to call Hawks to deal with whatever this means. 

Unfortunately, this is part of his job, and unfortunately, he isn’t even sure Hawks would be of any help. He’s pretty sure the man would shrug and offer his apprentice to go out to fly, or something along the lines of. Unfortunately, he also cares too much about his students to just let it go.

Aizawa takes the last sip of his coffee, and he sets down his cup only after he’s enjoyed that last sip. He sits. His shadow follows. Tokoyami’s own stays firmly wrapped around the teen’s shoulders, not talking or even mumbling. Calm, for once.

"Procedure would have me summarize what happened, but I’m pretty sure you know more than I do”, he sits down, pushing papers out of his seat. “I’d also rather have your side of it.”

Tokoyami remains silent, and Aizawa sighs. He’d ask Tokoyami to just text him his explanation when he’ll be ready, but that’d definitely be against procedures then.

It’ll be easier to get through all of this while face to face, too.

Aizawa has the camera-rushes, but most of what he had the ability to see was a blurry, zoomed-in mess: Dark Shadow suddenly snapping at students that were seemingly simply talking to Tokoyami in a way that doesn’t make sense.

Tokoyami isn’t a violent person, or even one of his hot-heated students, like one specific blonde teen. He is strong-willed, yes, but if there’s something Tokoyami lacks, it's violence. He can be resolute, even harsher when needed, especially when it comes to villains and attacks, but never otherwise. Unless Aizawa has been blind to that aspect of him, but he highly doubts that. Tokoyami’s a soft person, he’s gotten to see that more than once.

“You can sit”, he invites the teen when he keeps standing behind the chair. A quick look informs him that there’s not anything he left on the seat, observation that’s confirmed when Tokoyami finally does sit down, still silently.

“You’re not in trouble”, he states. “You didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t insult them, just scared them.” 

He leaves in a blank space there, one that Tokoyami doesn’t fill in. His own fault, probably: he didn’t phrase anything as a question.  

“I just want to understand why exactly you decided to”, he adds when the teenager stays silent.

“…I did not.”, Tokoyami finally speaks. “Dark-Shadow went against my own begrudging will. I have formally apologized to them already.”

Dark Shadow almost makes move to come out of Tokoyami’s drawn back, but Aizawa doesn’t have time to tell her anything before she’s pulled back. Seemingly, Tokoyami doesn’t need his help to 'control her’.

(Sometimes, he wonders whether he should treat both of them as different people, but Tokoyami has shared before that she was 'nothing more than but a reflection of his own soul’. He had been dubious, but it’s true he’s been able to observe how smoothly she interacted with his emotions, answered to his feelings, much like most quirks do. 

Though, he should have known she wasn’t just like “most quirks”, and that on more than just a power-scale level. It was literally in Tokoyami’s words all since he first talked about her: she, not it. 

If Tokoyami considers her part of his soul, he’s not going to say he knows better than his student.)

“Right. Did she ?”

“No, she has not, and for that I have apologized in her stead already. I would have her apologize as well if I only could.”

Aizawa finds himself shrugging, once again. “I couldn’t care less if you did or didn’t. I do care to know why Dark Shadow won’t apologize.Mind sharing?”

“She has been… wary and stressed, and her temper blew too suddenly”, he says. Then he’s adding something else in a way that sounds like an afterthought to Aizawa’s ears. “On the wrong person.”

“Which means?” he asks Tokoyami.

He doesn’t answer immediately, but his hands go to scratch at his feathers again. 

The silence stretches on, and on, up until the teen finally does break it again.

“Nothing much, truthfully. They had been speaking too… loudly, and that was her snapping point. I have spoken to her already. Sensei, I hereby promise, it will not happen again.”

Well. If that was it, Aizawa is just fine keeping it at that. Bad days happen to everyone, he is very well aware of that. The event was harmless, anyway.

“Well“, he shrugs. ”As long as it doesn’t happen again, you’re fine. You can return to your dorm.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are a lot of things Aizawa prides himself in. Noticing is one of those things. Can’t be an underground hero if you don’t take notice of what’s happening around you. There’s a lot of things you need to be careful about, need to be on the lookout for. 

The twitch of a hand on a weapon, concealed in a pocket, for example.

Aizawa is also realizing he’s either pretty shity at noticing some other things, or else maybe his students are masterminds at hiding those things. He’s pretty sure it’s both, unfortunately.

It started with Deku and Bakugou’s situation, and it continued with Todoroki. That one situation isn’t solved, still ongoing, but now, there’s also another situation.

The morning he finally notices something is wrong is a rainy one. It means his joints aren’t happy with him, but it also means Dark Shadow is a much more active presence in class, with the sun hidden behind the clouds.

The sun being absent usually means Dark Shadow is more exuberant, a stark contrast to Tokoyami’s discreet attitude. Tokoyami manages to keep her under control well enough, though, so he lets it fly. When he doesn’t, the chaos is just her flying around and wreaking havoc in a way that doesn’t mean destruction. 

Tokoyami’s slowly been getting better and better at calming her down, too, and Aizawa hasn’t had to erase his quirk and her in a very long time.

So she’s in no way a concern. This morning is no exception, given Dark Shadow is busy enough trying to nibble on Sero’s pencils that he can simply leave her to it. Sero didn’t seem to mind and Tokoyami didn’t either, so that was fine to ignore.

There are gasps when he announces a test for next week, and there’s the usual chattering that calms down whenever he glares in the right direction. The occasional verbal fight almost started between an unwilling Midoriya and Bakugou, but they stopped themselves just in time. A nice peace of change.

The lesson goes as well as it could go.

Dark Shadow was withdrawn today, though. And that was the word he should have been looking for. Withdrawn. Not just calm, or at ease. He hadn’t realized, but it had been quite a while since he had last heard her shrill, or shouts, or even speak up in the middle of his sentence, disturbing classes.

He only realises because Yaoyorozu drags it to his shitty attention after classes, Iida standing straight behind her.

“..and so we were pretty worried, and decided to inform a trusted adult of the fact”, she finishes, something resolute in her gaze.

“Right. Thanks for telling me. Would you mind sharing more?”, he asks, pencil at the ready. Emotional comfort has never been his strong suit, but Aizawa does know how to reassure somebody through actions, if only slightly.

Here the way he starts taking notes is more for his own benefit than the students’ in front of him, but he’ll say it still counts.

“Sure sir!”, Iida goes. “What exactly would you want to know?”

“When you think it started, mostly”, he asks.

“Well, Hagakure was actually the first one who noticed. According to her, he started sitting alone at lunch, maybe around two weeks ago? He used to eat alone sometimes, but not nearly as often. Normally, he’d usually eat with her or Koda and Shoji.. We’ll ask her the exact date if you want it” is Yaoyorozu’s answer.

“That’s fine, thank you”, he says. He doesn’t like it, but his mind’s presenting him a suspicion it has been building ever since his class’s representatives started sharing their worries to him.  

Apparently, Tokyami has been eating as early as possible, when the rest of his class hadn’t even arrived at the cafeteria. Up until he had recently stopped eating there as a whole. And while the fact Tokoyami treasures his solitude doesn’t surprise him, it is odd for him to be refusing the free restoration service Yuei offers. And, most of all, it’s weird how this coincides with his sudden attitude in classes.

“I’ll be looking into it. Don’t hesitate coming back if you ever have more to share”, he says to Yaoyorozu and Iida.

“And thanks for informing me of this”, he adds, after the two of his students have firmly promised him they will.

He should have known something was going on earlier. Tokoyami might have a broody aura sometimes, but it’s always in a theatre-kid, dramatical or gothical way.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He convokes Hagakure to his office as soon as he can, so the following Wednesday. Yaoyorozu and Iida spoke to him only last afternoon, so he did it on a pretty short notice.

It’s all a bit too official, and it’s one of the first times he’s ever convoked anyone other than Midoriya and Todoroki, so he can understand why she would be so freaked out.

That, though, is a little much. He can’t see her twisting her hands anxiously around, quite obviously. But he can hear the way she is shuffling behind her seat, and accurately guess she is hesitant.

“You can sit”, he says. “Or don’t. Do whatever you want. This isn’t anything official, I just had a question to ask you.”

“Oh! Okay, phew. I thought I was in trouble. Not that I did anything that would have me in trouble! It’s just I thought maybe I had because, y'know, you convoked me and that’s not something you usually do, so….”

He blinks at the stream of words. Right. One of his chatty students.

“ Right. Well, consider this like a post-lesson discussion. This just needed a little more privacy”, he says, then cuts right to it. “Have you been noticing anything off about Tokoyami recently?”

There is a slight pause, and Aizawa can only suppose there is a confused expression on the face he can’t see. Wondering why he is asking her and not one of Tokoyami’s close friends instead, most likely. If he's asking her, specifically, it's because he's pretty sure she eats at the same time Tokoyami does.

“Hmm. Not really? I haven’t been talking to him much. Or well, he also hasn’t been talking much at all. Not that I mind! Koda doesn’t talk and it’s alright. It’s just that Tokoyami used to chat with us, so it’s weird he isn’t anymore, you know?”

No, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t tell her that, but he didn’t know, up until now. He was under the impression Tokoyami was quite quiet, outside of fights, as he is in class. Apparently he’s been wrong.

“Tell me more”, he asks Hagakure.

“Right, well, uhm- I don’t actually know that much, I’m not that close to him, even if he’s really nice! It’s just sometimes I don’t know all the books he’s referencing so I feel a little bad about my lack of culture.”, she starts to ramble.

 At his unimpressed stare, she catches herself, air glittering around, probably the movement of her hands. “Anyway, yes, sorry. My point is, usually I’d still sit with him at lunch at least once a week, but recently he hasn’t even been going on lunch breaks anymore? Not since the incident, you know, when Dark Shadow kind of snapped. Kind of everyone was talking about it afterwards even if we weren't a lot of students present to see.”

That he hadn’t known either. Really, he might not give any mind to most gossip, but it is a wonder how he hasn’t heard about any of that so-called “incident”. Gossip and rumors usually proliferate in school like cockroach infestations, which means they get everywhere once they start: it’s a wonder they managed not to reach the teacher’s lounge, then.

He knows it didn’t reach the lounge for a very simple fact: UA’s policies strictly forbid any form of harassment. The only reason he’s somewhat aware of what happened was because Lunch Rush told him about hearing chaos and only ‘seeing’ Tokoyami's quirk wrapped protectively around him afterwards, when he got out of the kitchens.

His eye twitches, he’s pretty sure, judging by the way Hagakure’s nervous rambling trails off. Right. Not intimidating his students start by being less “terryifing-looking”. Right.

“Would you please tell me more about that “incident”?”, he asks, trying and hopefully not failing to sound kinder.

“Oh, sure! Well, so, there was that one group of students. They kept sitting close to his table even though the cafeteria is always almost empty whenever Tokoyami and I get there -I like being able to leave before rush time happens, people pushes me around less, I guess it’s the same for him- and I guess that one time those students were laughing and speaking louder than usual because Dark Shadow just went big. She started screaming but I didn’t hear everything. I think she screamed at them to leave her and Tokoyami alone?”

Throughout the girl’s explanation, Aizawa feels the realization hits him: gradually at first, but now it’s just evident. If Dark Shadow snapped, she had a reason for it, and the reason feels too much like bullying for his peace of mind.

“And he’s been eating out of the cafeteria since then.”

“Yes,” Hagakure confirms. 

There’s an obvious questioning tone to her voice, but Aizawa doesn’t want her to panic just yet. “Did you notice if the group kept their usual habits?”

“As in eating at the same table?”

“Yes.”

“No, I don’t think so! I’m not even sure I saw them again after that, honestly. They probably started to eat later.”

Aizawa nods, then. It’s not enough information to do anything yet, but it is still something. “Any names?”

“Oh, no, I don’t know them, sorry. I’m not even sure if the group Dark Shadow got upset at was the same one as the other group, I didn’t really pay attention to their faces. They looked like higher years though.  …Can I ask why you’re asking all of that? Is there a problem with Tokoyami? ”

“No”, he answers. A bit too stern, too quick. “Well. I’m not sure everything is going well for him. I won't tell you not to talk and support him, but I'll ask of you to please not overwhelm him further if he doesn't want to talk about it. I'm already looking into it., he says, somehow softer, hopefully.

“Oh. Of course! I'll be really discreet about it, I swear. Is there more I could do to help?”, she asks. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Up, for once.

“No. I'll ask you if I ever think so, though.”

“Sure!”, she goes, just as enthusiastic to help as the rest of her class is. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His left eye twitches in its socket.

Denki’s paper is not the reason, though it is going to be a grade that’ll be less good than its predecessor. Aizawa can deal with that. He’ll deal with it later. He can’t deal with the conversation he’s currently overhearing anymore.

“Are you two going to take this away from my desk or do I have to know the rest of that anecdote?”, he finally asks.

Nemuri’s attention turns to him, and he does not like that smile. It reeks of evil, and of a let-me-drag-you-into-this-right-away type of mess. 

“What? I thought you lovedddd hearing about our romantic life?”

Nezu should have instaurated a no-chatting-when-in-the-teacher-lounge policy years before. Aizawa’s been doing this for too long . He considers retirement one more time.

He stares. Surely, it’s enough to get his point across. He’s known them for long enough he’s well aware staring doesn’t intimidate them in the slightest.

It doesn’t there either. If the curtains to the window weren’t closed, he would seriously consider throwing one of them through it, if he wasn’t too well installed to go through the effort.

“I’ve never said that”, he grunts out.

“But you thought so, right?”

“He’d rather pretend he’s not interested in learning allll there is to know about our fantastic life and listen in instead” Hizashi interferes.

“Because he doesn't care enough to learn about your life?” Nemuri fake-gapes.

 Demon on the shoulder of another demon, is what they are. The day they stop influencing each other is the day one of them is dead, or one loses their memory.

“Right, sure”, he deadpans, going back to silently glare at the paper. 

Another red annotation joins the other. 

He tries to remember when Nezu said he’d be available to see him.He hasn’t been paying enough attention to the instructions telling them how to handle bullying. He needs to get on that sooner than later, really. This is already late enough.

“What’s got you so short-tempered today?” Nemuri comes closer to him to dramatically whisper in his ear. "Headache? Bakugo snapped again? Hero-related struggle? Todoroki refusing to get help with his injuries”?

“No. It’s Tokoyami’s problem.”

“Ah. He’s still not speaking to his friends?”, she asks, having the decency to snap back to serious when needed.

“No. I’m pretty sure Midoriya’s this close to pulling an intervention and dragging all the class to my office if this keeps on going. Tokoyami’s still avoiding them all.”

“Is that why you asked Nezu to see the camera recordings? That’s a bit much considering Tokoyami’s not the most social to start with, maybe he’s just been wanting some peace and quiet”, she shrugs. 

“Kind of like baby–teen-you used to.” Hizashi chimes in.

“It’s not just that.”, he says, tone colder than the teasing would usually warrant. “I think he’s been getting bothered by older students. If not bullied. It could look like it on some of the camera rushes.” 

Too regularly, a group comes, sits next to wherever Tokyami is sitting, then inevitably starts laughing. Tokoyami never seems to be laughing back with them.

Aizawa pulls at his eyelid and grabs the vial sitting on his desk. One drop, two drops, three. The saline’s put down with a thump. They're not sufficient because they didn't hear, mostly, so the recordings can’t count as proof, but also because they didn’t pick out their faces and so he can’t identify them and go interrogate them, either.

“Oh.” Nemuri says, straightening up. “And you couldn’t tell which students, I assume.”

He couldn’t. Or else those students would have already been expelled . But of course, they just had to get lucky in their seating choice. Too far away from the camera for it to see details, just shapes. That’s something he can notify the director of, at least, but it’s not something that makes things easier for either him or Tokoyami.

“No. I’m still trying to find a way to identify them.”

“Maybe you should find a moment to talk to him in between two classes, that’s what I’d do”, Nemuri advises him. Aizawa glares a little more at the red traces of pen on Denki’s paper.

“I tried already. He clearly looked uncomfortable each time, but he didn’t share anything.” Every time he asked to talk to him after classes, Tokoyami was always quick to flee.

( “My apologies, Sensei, but I must go. We have a test in mathematics and Mr. Ectoplasm does not like us being late for them.”

“Hmm. I can write you an excuse slip.”

“I truly would rather not miss time to prepare my copy. It pains me to admit it, but mathematics is not a course I excel at.

“... Fine. Later, then”, he had said. 

There had been no laters yet.)

“Ever thought about having him come to your office after classes?” Hizashi intervenes. “And just ask, directly.”

 Aizawa blinks, considering, two long seconds. That could work.

Maybe. Maybe just asking would be enough for Tokoyami to confide in him. He has his doubts, though. He’ll be trying sooner than later, though. Not this evening since he needs to go patrolling, but soon.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Usually, Aizawa would not be working on a Sunday, except to go patrolling. He touches very exactly zero sheets of paper that’s accidentally been brought back to his dorm suite.

This is very likely why Hizachi and Nemuri keep dragging him out to “enjoy his weekend and live a little”. His own fault, then. 

( “Come on, you haven’t stopped complaining all week long”

“ Only a week? You’re being generous! Pretty sure it’s been a full month.”

“Sure, sure. He’s been way more upset in the past week though”

“I don’t see the point in us going to the bar if I don’t plan on getting drunk”

“Why not? It can’t be worse than last time”

“He’s going patrolling after.”

“Hah, right. Don’t worry, we’ll be drunk enough for you then!”, Nemuri had said, and then he had gotten dragged along. Quite literally.) 

He brought his own demise onto himself, really. 

So Aizawa gets back later than he usually does, which does allow him to get to see which of his students are still awake at this hour. And- Shinsho’s here, which comes as a surprise.

The part where he’s out of his dorm and in the common room is not what’s surprising- that’s the norm. 

It’s the other part of the situation that comes as a surprise. 

Shinsho’s asleep, in a way that seems deep.

Aizawa doesn’t stare for too long before he’s switching off the light. Shinsho seems to have picked a comfortable enough position for once.

None of the other usuals insomniacs of the class are there. Not too surprising. They don’t tend to see each other that often. Their nightly schedules don’t usually correlate too often. It’s actually been a while since Aizawa caught any of them spending their night in the common kitchen or living room. Still, there’s something about that that doesn’t sit too right with him.

He shrugs it off, though. It’s late. Classes start again in less than 6hours. Sleep is awaiting him.

(Instead of getting as much sleep as he’d like, Aizawa spends a good chunk of his night comparing pictures of students IDs to blurs on a screen.)

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He should have known something was going on earlier. Tokoyami might have a broody aura sometimes, but it’s always in a theatre-kid, dramatical or gothical way. 

Now that he’s paying attention, really paying attention, the way Tokoyami’s retreat seems far different than his usual isolation. Isolation that he had stepped out of since the beginning of the school year, too.

He leaves early, not waiting for Shouji like he had been doing up until three weeks ago. 

This is just one of the examples Aizawa gets to see, as the bell rings to announce the five minutes intermission necessary to travel between classrooms.  

There’s more than that, and probably some others he can’t see. He doesn’t like what Tokoyami’s isolation can imply.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, in the span of a single week, Iida and Yaoyorozu are standing in front of him after classes. Just like that last Thursday, and just like always, their stance is straight. Resolute. This time though, they weren’t the ones initiating the conversations, and so there’s also a bit of confusion alongside their apparent fervorness to be of help.

Though said confusion is quick to fade when he speaks out.  “I assume you want to know why you’re here. I need you to keep an eye out for Tokoyami.”

Realization twists Yaoyozoru’s features in a single second. “Oh! This is about what Hagakure saw, isn’t it?”

Aizawa raises a single eyebrow. Asks, “You know about this?”.

“She shared her worries to us like we did to you, yes. We didn’t tell anyone else, however”, Iida speaks up.  Aizawa’s pretty sure he’s this close to bowing out an unnecessary apology, but he doesn’t, ultimately. Good. Aizawa’s glad that his students are looking out for each other that way.

“Right. Great. That makes it easier, then. I’ll be straightforward: I’m pretty sure Tokoyami has been getting bullied, but I haven’t been able to tell by who yet. If you could, make sure no one is bothering him and tell me who, if anyone does.” 

“Sure, sir!”, Iida says at the same time that Yaoyozuru affirms “We definitely can and will be doing that.”

Hmm. They reacted so quickly Aizawa is pretty sure there is more to that than just a fast  reaction time. 

“No pulling any tricks or any spying”, he has to clarify, just in case. As much as he wants to get to the bottom of this, he can’t really have his students get into trouble trying to pull their own justice. Again. God forbid they have a repeat of the incident. “Keep your costumes and fake mustaches to your closet, please.”

Immediately, Iida goes to scramble an explanation and a categorical refusal. “Obviously! We would never, it is something that must be entrusted to teachers and adults. We didn’t even consider-”

Aizawa wishes he was oblivious enough not to realise the lie that is. Unfortunately, he remembers well enough the two of them were part of the team that went to save Bakugo, and so he can only sigh and pretend like they won’t do as they find fair anyway.

“Tells Hagakure that as well. And avoid telling more of your classmates about this. The only reason I’ve told you is because you’re the class representatives and I trust you not to make Tokoyami feel put on the spot.”

“We won’t. You have our promise. We’ve been doing our best to include and cheer him up, too.”

Yaoyozoru’s affirmation is followed by the firm nod of Iida. That’s at least something Aizawa doesn’t have to worry about.

Tokoyami hasn’t agreed to a meeting yet, claiming he had tests to be revising for. It’s a problem, but at least that way he’ll hopefully not be getting bothered in the meantime. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He should have drank less caffeine this afternoon.

Right now his hands are as jumbled as his thoughts are, which isn’t too practical when keeping a villain in the clutches of his capture weapon. Luckily he’s used to acting on few hours of sleep and many of sleep-deprivation, and so doing so single-handed while calling the police isn’t too hard of a thing to do. 

The guy he’s holding groan something to him, dramatic.

“Hey! Don’t slam me down again!”

Aizawa hushing him comes too naturally. “I didn’t. Don’t try getting into people’s houses again”, he says, and then he’s back to giving their location to the agent on the line. The man’s whiskers fluffs out in irritation, exactly like his expression does, but Aizawa ignores it.

“We’ll be there at 2:10”, the officer answers him. He grunts out something that’s meant to be an agreement. 

A full twenty one minutes later and the police car finally arrives. There’s two officers: Aizawa acknowledges them with a curt nod, ignoring their greetings in order to transfer the man he had been monitoring into their custody.

“Hah. That’s one weird mutt of a criminal. Should have expected it when we got the call.”, he thinks he hears one of the cops say when they look at the criminal. 

His head snaps to the man in a way that he knows is seen as unnerving. “What did you say”, he lets out. His voice’s usually cold: it’s even colder this time.

“Uh, uhm, nothing! Nothing!”, the officer cowers. 

“I’d hope so. Especially with what your duties and line of field imply.”

There’s a grumbled sort of what Aizawa’s pretty sure is meant to be an half-assed attempt at an explanation, but no excuse.

Aizawa keeps glaring as they keep working.

Then the car’s leaving, and Aizawa lets his gaze follow it for a full five seconds before his mind starts drifting back to his other concerns. 

He almost misses the shadow creeping onto him. When he notices it, it’s too late, and the figure standing behind him is much too close when he immediately turns around when he does.

The cat sitting there mewls. It’s a singular, judgmental noise.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Afternoon classes are usually the pinnacle of noises, to the deepest regret of his eardrums. Aizawa can think of a few different reasons : the students are more energetic than at eight in the morning, they’ve just gotten out of a lunch break that’s a bit too short for teenagers to get out all of their energy, and the following hours will be physical and quirk training ones. Cue the commotion. That doesn’t prevent him from taking a nap while they work on their projects, though. 

At least, usually. His gaze focuses on Ashido’s group, composed of her, Koda and Jiro. Mina is unsurprisingly being louder than the researches asked of them warrant, but it’s Koda and Jiro he’s looking at. Jiro’s talking back, and smiling, apparently not too bothered by the ambient noise around her. Koda’s silent, but he seems comfortable, and he does intervene from time to time.

Behind them, Tokoyami is as silent as Koda, but without the small smile Koda sports when looking at his teammate. On previous group works, Tokoyami had been more active than the current only occasional comments. Aizawa gets the sense Midoriya’s frown is not because he’s struggling on the work they’re meant to be. 

Aizawa’s gaze lingers. Until he pulls it back toward his laptop, that is. The document on his screen has been sent by Nezu to him on his demand, and it’s one he needs to focus on. The procedure’s fairly simple, he’s learning, as long as there are either proofs or testimonies. 

Unfortunately, he has none for now, and suspicions are not enough to get bullying students excluded or even punished.  

For now, he has the worries of three of Tokoyami’s classmates, but no recordings proving anything, or no witnesses. Hagakure doesn’t count, unfortunately, because the only thing she witnessed was Dark Shadow and Tokoyami snapping, and not who exactly they had snapped at. He has no other options than get him to talk to him this evening, really.

He’s asked staff members to keep an eye out for anything out of the norm, but he’s not going to just keep it at that when he could be doing more.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hopefully having to convoke his students won’t become something he’ll have to get used to. He doesn’t mind the idea of private meetings to help them with their individual problems, but he does, really, mind those problems.

“So. I’ll be direct. I’ve been hearing and seeing things that have been concerning me.”

Tokoyami, in front of him, is sitting, and he is busy pretending everything is fine, which does not make sense to Aizawa. 

He gets not wanting to worry others and keeping troubles quiet, but others are already worrying, here.

“... I do not see what you’re talking about, sir. I haven’t heard of any rumors”, the teen says.

He ignores that. Tokoyami’s not a fool, and he’s not going to pretend he is just because the boy wants to act oblivious. 

“Tokoyami. If students bother any students, tell any teacher and they’ll react accordingly.” 

“... What would said reactions be, sir? Consequences for the perpetrators, I assume, but which? Exclusion? ”

“It depends. That can be the case, yes. Exclusion can happen. Depending on the proportions of the "perpetrator" ‘s actions. It can also be a note in the academic record, or hours of detention. My point is whatever is happening, if you tell us, we’ll make sure to take care of it.”

“Hm. May I ask one more question?”, Tokoyami asks, still looking at Aizawa right into his eyes. He stares back.

“Yes.” Obviously. He doesn’t know what the teen is getting at, though. He’s not sure he should have started the conversation the way he did, but it’s too late to regret the way he did now.

“What do you imply, by bothering?”

“Calling names, insulting, making fun of. Or anything physical. On a singular time, or repeatedly”, he says, echo of the official documents he’s been reading.

“Bullying, then? “

“Well. Yes. And I need the names of the bullies in order to be able to do anything about them, Tokoyami.”

“Oh. I’ll reassure you, then. I’m not being bullied. I”, Tokoyami starts to say, and then Aizawa’s office is erupting into an explosion of noise.

Dark Shadow’s suddenly bursting from Tokoyami, and Aizawa suddenly gets why villains and students alike flee when she does. His hand, almost, flies to his scarf. The only reason Aizawa doesn’t startle is because he’s used to boisterous, sudden reactions due to his friends and years of teaching. 

“No ! No! No! No” Dark Shadow screams.

“Dark Shadow, be quiet”, Tokoyami hisses at her. 

Aizawa feels his spine straightening. Tokoyami’s suddenly more expressive than he’s been since he first convoked him, which is at least a start. He doesn’t like the fact that’s over trying to snuff down Dark Shadow when she seems to be wanting to tell what he’s really feeling.

“No! I will not! They are not deserving of our silence! Not longer! They-”

The legs of the chair screech. Tokoyami stands up very abruptly.

“I don’t want to talk about it further”, he says, and Aizawa’s not sure who he’s speaking to.

“My apologies.” he says, now standing up and turning towards him, and that’s definitely addressed toward Aizawa. “Thanks for your worries, but I assure you, they are excessive. I am fine. "

And then he’s leaving, not without a respectful bow, but gone anyway before Aizawa can say more. He likely wouldn’t have forced him to stay. But his lack of a reaction leaves a sour taste in his mouth anyway. Aizawa’s hand drops from his scarf to tighten into it instead.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The song gets louder, the pitch even higher. Aizawa considers putting earbuds he doesn’t own in. He also considers telling Hizashi to shut up: he doesn’t. He just lays on the floor, and waits for him to stop, eventually.

Waking up is as quick as it always has been, unfortunately. Aizawa emerges from his sleeping bag to see Hizashi standing some feet away from the table, now done singing. The papers on it might be English tests, apparently forgotten ones.

Hizashi opens his mouth. Aizawa groans.

“Have you solved Tokoyami’s problem yet?” Hizashi still asks.

“No.” He states. If he could just go back to sleep, he would. Hizashi reminded him he can’t just do that, unfortunately.

Said man cocks an eyebrow at him. Inquisition.

“He hasn’t come back, and nothing yet officially happened. Those students aren’t doing anything concrete on the cameras recording, just, glaring at him. I can’t ask Nezu to punish them, yet, there’s no official proof.” If he were a different man, Aizawa would just go punching. His morals prevent him from punching any kids, as much as he’d currently like to for those. Instead his hands close more tightly around his grip on his sleeping bag.

The frown Hizashi makes is the empathy he and Nemuri so rarely show him when they’re together, probably.

 

"Maybe Jiro could have heard anything. It would count as a proof, right?”, Hizashi offers, earnest as can be.

“Yes”, he says. It’s a good idea, really. He could ask Jiro, too. His frown’s back in an instant, though, because he’s not sure involving yet another student in Tokoyami’s private matters would be a good idea when he so expressively showed him he didn’t want him getting involved. But then again, he can’t let this go on just because of that when Tokoyami has so clearly been affected by the situation. 

He’s contacted his parents, already, but they’ve told him their child hasn’t shared anything to them, either. And they’re worried now, obviously.

Aizawa forgoes a frustrated sigh. He is going to find a solution, eventually, it just needs to be done more quickly than it currently is.

( “No, he hasn’t told anything to me or his mom. He was a bit stressed about upcoming tests at some point, but after that he’s only been telling us positive things about his days. Why? Is he really that low-spirited?”

“ Yes. Unfortunately.  But I’m not calling just to tell you that. He-”

“What? What’s wrong? He didn’t get injured, right?”

“No. But I’m heavily suspecting he’s been getting bothered by some students, if not bullied. I’m currently looking into who they are, but I can’t actually do anything until I know who they are.”

A sigh. “He hasn’t told you or anyone?”  

Aizawa’s eyebrows had furrowed, at that. 

“No.”

 “He gets it from his mom, I fear. He’s always been too stubborn for his own good. He did the same as a kid when that happened.”

“ ‘When that happened’ meaning?”)

He folds his sleeping bag up with none of his usual care, accidentally creasing the yellow fabric. Aizawa’s face twists even further down.

“I fucked up when trying to get him to talk to me”, he blurts out. “ I don’t know how I should have done it, but it wasn’t this way.” He messed up. Bad. Instead of reassuring Tokoyami, he likely convinced him he’d cause students to get expelled, when UA is so prestigious to get into. This is not how to get someone possibly being bullied to admit it. Aizawa fucked up.

“... Shota. You tried your best, right?”

“That’s not enough.” Not when there is one of his students that hasn’t been his usual self for more than a month now. Not when it’s one of his duties to make sure all of his students are alright. Definitely not when Tokoyami so clearly hasn’t been, and doesn’t trust him enough to be telling him why.

“I’m not saying the opposite, but I don’t think I would have done any better. I think we all need to take a training course. Hell, even multiple ones! The only ones we had were at the beginning of our formation and that was decades ago,” Hizachi tells him, taking his bag and unfolding it to roll it correctly. 

Aizawa has to prevent himself from glaring at him. He doesn’t end up doing so.

“I’m being serious! You showed him you were worried for him. You’ve also been doing all you can to figure out the identity of the bullies. It’s not enough, but it’s a start, and that’s better than doing nothing and leaving him to handle it alone. And it’s not like you’re planning to give up on him too, ay?” Hizashi’s waiting for an answer, Aizawa’s known him long enough to be aware of that. The man’s known him for long enough not to expect one, though, so he ends up settling on a singular grunt.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The worst is that for a moment there, Aizawa doubted himself, during that conversation. Tokoyami seemed conflicted, but maybe he was just anxious, worried, upset. 

Aizawa was sure the cause of his problems was the teens of the camera recording and bullying, but maybe something vastly different was actually weighing on Tokoyami’s mind. According to his parents, nothing was worrying him, but children don’t always share everything with their parents, that’s at least something Aizawa’s sure about. 

The thought that Tokoyami could be downcast because of reasons only personal to him had come through his mind. 

But then. Dark Shadow had intervened. “They don’t deserve our silence”, she had said. Something like that: so that’s a confirmation to Aizawa’s suspicions. But now he doesn’t know what to do, because Tokoyami very clearly doesn’t want him insisting. 

He can try redirecting him to other teachers, still. To Hound Dog or any other of the counselors. He’ll likely do that. He’d start drafting an email, but he’d rather speak to Hound Dog while face to face. Gets his advice, too, which he really should have done days ago, actually.

The sighs escaping his lungs finally finish doing so.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning. First hour of the day: the class’s bursting with noise. He’s used to it, though. 

That doesn’t keep him from scowling, obviously. 

It’s not like he can say much, though, because this session is the last one he gave his class in order to complete their project, so the noise’s only expected. Between the adrenaline rush and the panicking and the usual loudness, the chaos’ pretty much expected. 

Aizawa, for once, is doing what’s expected of him and skimming through his emails, occasionally reading the important ones. Skipping the ones where the subjects already are explicit enough. 

Students are apparently asking for a supervisor that’d agree to look over a gardening club. Cameras around the school are going to be replaced soon. Schedules might have to be scrambled around in order to prepare for the coming up exams. 

“Sorry, Sensei? Our group had a question” ‘s asked. 

Aizawa looks up, stopping his lazy scrolling. He’ll read those last emails later. 

“Yeah?”, he answers Midoriya, his gaze slipping to the rest of his group.

“So, we were wondering-” 

And there he goes into a ramble. Aizawa brings his attention back to the teen standing in front of him. He might not reexplain everything, but he can clarify if needed. 

It’s ironic, how he’s the one that ends up needing for Midoriya to re-explain the start of his question, given he had missed it.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somebody knocks on his door. Hizashi doesn’t come in immediately, probably expecting him to be sleeping his lunch break away. Aizawa wishes he was.

Unfortunately, he isn’t, and he wouldn’t mind Hizashi bothering his attention away from his copies for once. Aizawa waits for him to barge in. The letters keep flying by under his eyes as he reads, and the door to his office stays closed. Hah. 

He sits up straighter, as hurried as he should probably be.

“You can come in”, he tells the student waiting behind the door.

Said student does, and Aizawa raises an eyebrow when he sees which one of his it is.

“Sensei, hello. My apologies for disturbing your break, but I have.. I must share something I believe to be important.”, Tokoyami says.

Wrapped in his cape, Tokoyami just stands there after he’s done speaking. Aizawa hurries a little more quickly to the door than his usual to acknowledge him.

“No problem.”

The clock and its hands keep moving forward. 

Aizawa considers using the break to pull out his eye drops.

 He considers asking Tokoyami if he’s eaten yet, too, but he’s not certain that’d be the right path to take. 

Considers a lot of things and prefer waiting for Tokoyami to be ready, in the end. 

The usual brand of tea he’s found Todoroki to like is almost pushed away to a corner of his desk before he suddenly realises that this might help Tokoyami, too. It might have helped last time. It might have helped Hagakure be less stressed, too. The epiphany as small as it is, stings a bit.

“Tea?”, he goes, pushing it towards the boy this time. The leaves sloshes around in their can, the only thing breaking through the silence until Tokoyami finally speaks up. After no more than a few seconds, but it’s still noticeable enough considering the previous lapse of silence.

Dark Shadow finally comes out, wrapping herself protectively around Tokoyami’s hand. It twitches. Aizawa drags his gaze to his cup of tea.

The leaves he didn’t take out yet swirls around, unbothered.

“Yes, thank you.”

Aizawa doesn’t blink, but it’s a very near thing. If after all of this, it’s tea that finally gets Tokoyami speaking, he won’t complain or say a thing, but he is surprised.

He stands up. Hopefully Tokoyami doesn’t mind his tea micro-waved, he realizes when he’s standing in front of the appliance. 

He asks.

“I don’t” ‘s the teen answers, one that’s immediately interrupted by his quirk’s appearance. 

“Go on! Just tell him!”, she says.

“Dark Shadow, we’ve talked about this”, Tokoyami whispers in a way that Aizawa can’t fairly qualify as furiously. Strained, maybe. He stays cautiously turned towards the microwave: stares at the spiraling movement of the cup of tea instead of the reflection in the plastic.

“Yes! You said you’d tell him!”

“And you said you’d let me handle it”

“you don’t handle things well”, she whispers back before, supposedly , retreating back. 

The microwave emits a beep just as the cup stops spinning.

Aizawa turns toward the two, and, indeed, Dark Shadow retreated. She’s behind Tokoyami, turning her back to him. Essentially sulking, then.

Wordlessly, Aizawa offers the cup to Tokoyami. The teen accepts it with a thanks, and then back to the silence they go again. 

It’s broken more quickly this time, though. 

“Sensei.”, Tokoyami suddenly steel himself, settling the cup down. “I must confess: I haven’t been quite honest with you, and a sudden epiphany has brought me to see the errors of my ways.”

Aizawa’s heart does a sort of somersault, one that he’s careful not to let appear on his emotion. Tokoyami might just be getting ready to finally be telling him about what’s been bothering him the past weeks. Whether that’s the case or not, Aizawa doesn’t want to scare him away. He keeps quiet, given Tokoyami doesn’t seem to plan on slowing down on his so-called confession.

“ I fear my silence has brought more harm than good, and for that I apologize”, he’s saying, and Aizawa feels his eyebrows fighting him to visibly furrow. He doesn’t know why Tokoyami would be apologizing. Bullies victims do apparently often feel at fault, but it’s still odd- and Aizawa needs to remind himself this might not be what’s going on.

Reminder that is quite immediately rendered useless.

“There are students that have started saying invidious things about some of my fellow classmates and friends, and I am quite sure they would not have been able to if I had acted when I first had the chance to.”

Aizawa straightens up. He doesn’t get to say anything though, because Tokoyami is immediately going back to his declaration. 

“Although they have been lucky enough not to hear those insults, I can’t let that be a possibility. You said last week teachers would react accordingly to hearing about such behaviour, so-”

“So we’re snitching! It’s necessary!”, Dark Shadow screams out.

“Don’t call it snitching.”, Aizawa finally interrupts. “You’re actually doing what’s right, calling out offensive behaviour. Dark Shadow is right.” With those words he gestures to her, small acknowledgement. “ Yes, teachers are definitely going to be taking action. I do need to hear more though.”

His gaze’s resolute, he’s sure : just as much as the emotions he’s currently feeling.

“As much as you’re comfortable retelling”, he does have the presence of mind to add. Even if only as an after-thought. 

“Yes. Obviously. They have been mocking Koda’s unusual appearance, as well as calling him and Asui derogatory terms, and I-”

Dark Shadow makes a sharp appearance, one that almost has Aizawa activating his quirk out of instinct, before she settles around Tokoyami’s frame again. 

Tokyami takes a breath in, one that’s deep enough to make the feathers of his wrists move. “Sorry.”

Aizawa doesn’t blame him. If the quirk he had gotten at birth had been similar to Dark Shadow, he’s really not sure how much he would have been able to rein her in right about now, or even if he would have been able to. There’s a touch of admiration he’s aware of amongst the many other emotions storming around his brain, right now, for the way Tokoyami manages his calm.

“No need to apologize”, he says. “Are those “they” specific people?” He’s asking, but he’s entirely convinced they are, and he’s even more convinced he knows which group of people Tokoyami is currently talking about.

“Oh. Yes.”

Tokoyami seems frazzled, maybe. Aizawa can’t really tell why. He can only hope it isn’t because Tokoyami still isn’t planning on telling him their identities.

His grasp gets tighter on the handle of his own cup. He gets a breath out. One that’s smaller than Tokoyami’s own, but still a deep one. “How long has this been going on for?”

“They’ve only started being offensive towards Tsuyu and Koda today. I decided to come as soon as I could.”

Deep breath, Aizawa’s subconscious is actively reminding him. “And how long have they been acting offensively towards you, Tokoyami?”

“Oh”, the boy says. Genuinely caught off guard by the question, if Aizawa is believing the lack of dramatic flair to it. “Uhm. About around three weeks, I believe.”

“Four and a half”, Dark Shadow chimes in.

“...Yes. Quite about that long.”

That’s long. That’s really long, considering what Tokoyami’s saying imply they’ve kept doing it after he stopped going to the cafeteria.

“Okay.”, Aizawa settles on. “And what have they been saying?”

“Using, bird names to refer to me, and things amongst the line of, mostly. I didn’t really remember them all, truly. Following me around to do that, as well, but that was merely it.”

This time, Aizawa can’t prevent the inclination of his eyebrows. He does try to lower the edge to his voice, however. 

“Those “things”. Would you be okay with anyone telling them to your friends?”

“I believe most of them would not have been deemed derogatory to them, nor truly impacted them.”

“What about the others? “

“No! I would definitely not be okay with that. That’s why I immediately went to you when these people started to”, Tokoyami answers, feathers puffing up in offense. 

“Right. Were any of those words derogatory to you?”, he asks Tokoyami, trying to show him his point.

“Well. I…”

( “He’d only tell his teachers or us when the kids were mean to other kids. He’d say he didn’t mind about the rest, when we asked.“

“And what was “the rest”? You never said”, Aizawa asks. He thinks he knows, has a guess. It’s necessary of him to ask.

“Oh. Kids making fun of him for his appearance. Insulting him.”, Tokoyami’s father says, with a voice ringing of a type of grief Aizawa’s never had to know. 

“Calling him a monster. Or a freak.”)

“I guess so, yes, some might be deemed so. I’d rather we focus on today’s event, though, if possible.”

Aizawa’s eyelid is twitching, something he notices when taking another subtle deep breath in. “We will have to talk about that at some point. Be it with me or any other teacher you’d be more comfortable with. But that’s not something I can just pretend is fine and alright.”

“... Yes. Right.” 

Tokoyami visibly grows uncomfortable, for one of the first times since he first came into the room. Visibly uncomfortable, but not hiding it, with the exception of looking down at the desk instead of straight into Aizawa’s eyes like previously. It’s an improvement from before, at least. 

Saying it’s a show of trust might be a stretch, so Aizawa abstains from it.

“Right. Can you identify them?” 

There’s something that goes steely in Tokoyami’s eyes at that: Aizawa’s glad for it, in a way. But he has the sense this resolution is meant more for Koda and Tsuyu than for Tokoyami himself. Which. He’s appreciative of his students’ protective tendencies amongst each other. But sometimes, he really, truly wishes -he would possibly be praying for it if he was religious- that they’d turn all the energy they put into helping their classmates and friends (and strangers alike) more towards themselves. 

“Yes.” Tokoyami’s nod is firm. 

A selfish and unbothered part of Aizawa’s brain is glad the boy’s not so emotive, because Aizawa as a whole doesn’t know how to comfort people well, but there’s also the other parts: The ones that are upset that Tokoyami is not getting upset over people that have been giving him hell. Or not letting himself getting upset about it.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tokoyami. Also.” Aizawa asks, later, when the tea has gone fully cold and he’s had to reheat it twice already. The boy was just about to leave, but there’s one more thing Aizawa hasn’t mentioned.

“Yes?”, the boy asks. Dark Shadows behind him, still, but she’s unwrapped herself from his frame. She’s just hovering around, but Aizawa’s realizing it’s a familiar sight he had come to miss seeing.

“Your classmates have been worried about you”, he says. There’s a whole lot more he wants to say, wants to ask. He settles on that though. For now, at least. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On his phone, there’s a pending email that he answers pretty much as early as he can. 

There’s another one, too, one that does alleviate a bit of his frustration at the previous' content, the slowness of the proof-collecting processus.

Ground Dog's telling him Tokoyami agreed to more sessions with him. The first one –a trial session Tokoyami has been willing to try– went well, apparently. That’s all he can disclose, but the information’s enough to put contentment to Aizawa’s mind. 

There’s a link to a video too, –at the bottom of the email– that Aizawa clicks on. Testimonies, it seems, compiled into one long video that makes up a documentary. It’s not one of the many he’s already watched. He starts playing the video pretty much right away, even if he’s not sure he’ll be able to watch it fully today

.

And yes, it isn’t enough, it still isn’t, but being aware starts with being informed, he’s aware of that. So videos start piling up in his history, and he starts to watch more and more, as many as he can, really. It doesn’t make him qualified, not yet, but at least he’s starting to be less blind to the discrimination people with mutant quirks have to deal with on a daily basis. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tokoyami’s also starting to be more of an active presence amongst his classmates again. Dark Shadow, too. Aizawa’s not sure if the two of them have talked to their classmates about what happened this last month, but at least they’ve been going back to the cafeteria with some of them, now that the bullies, higher years –like Hagakure had suspected– from the general course, have been banned from using it. 

Hi! i have no clue if the timeline makes sense, i've been working on this fic for the past three months from times to times so pretty much everything is jumbled, sorry! I would have imploded if I kept working on it though, so here it is as is. I hope it's not too confusing, but if it is, don't hesitate asking questions, i'll be glad to answer them!! off to bed i go now (it's 2am and i need to wake up early to go to my internship)

[inejinn]

i binge-watched gachiakuta in three nights (i stayed up till 6am on the last one) and i'm. absolutely obsessed??? it holds so much found family potential it basically overtake my heart. the power system is so interesting i love it. and the music and the humor and the feelings were all so amazing too aeyrghhhh.

currently waiting to watch the last episode because it apparently ends on a cliffhanger and i don't know what i'll do afterward, the manga sounds great but i got so attached to the dub. and the soundtrack. and-

all that just to say: i want to write about the cleaners SO BAD

[youmiyoumo]

GOD FUCKING DAMMNIT.

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

[inejinn]

AAAAAAAAAAA

[inejinn]

make-up artist reader & Rumi, (technically reader x zoey except she's only mentioned) (i don't know yet whether this'll be an Huntrix x reader serie so feel free to interpret it as you like for now! or tell me what you'd prefer that works too)

Just for the time of a trip?

Or : How your first official meeting (or encounter) with Rumi go.

➺ part one !

You have a new follower. This isn't too unusual : you follow a lot of new accounts every week, and people love to follow back and to "be mutuals", but you also post enough to sometimes be graced by the algorithms and shown to some people. It is a bit unusual when you take into consideration the name of the new follower, though, which you only do days after.

Days are long when you need to wake up at 6 in the morning and leave work around 12 hours later in the evenings. Scrolling times are moments you treasure but they're also moments much too rare and moments that, worse of all, flee way too easily. Those are moments that tend to pass by more easily than the rest of your day at work. Then in the evenings you have to drive back home, cook whatever dinner you have the will of strength to do, prepare yourself for the night and then for your next day-

You usually forget about Instagram pretty easily. Or, well, you do check it from time to time- To answer your friends or read and sometimes react to some comments. Or scroll and lose hours of your life pointlessly. But you're not so chronically online you stalk every single person that likes your posts. And since likes and followers notifications are in the same area (some sort of fucked up Instagram updates you're one of the unlucky beta-tester of), you don't notice who and who exactly follows your account.

Point is:

When the Rumi Kang follows your account, you only notice days after the fact.

When you notice Rumi Kang sent you private messages, it's been days and you've left her on delivered for that long. Best believe you scream about it. Hopefully your neighbors won't come knocking on your door again : but you currently don't give a shit. Rumi Kang has sent you a DM, multiples messages at that, and you haven't answered.

The flutter of messages you send your friends are possibly unconventional, given the hour you send them at (12PM: a bit late yes, but not that late if you consider the fact you usually stay up till 2am watching documentaries and developing sleeping bags you should definitely not have as a professional makeup artist, and all).

I kid you not, ONE OF THEM FOLLOWED ME AGAIN.

LIKE SEVEN DAYS AGO

do i follow her back? do i even want to? it's so weird, i have no clue how i keep getting into their for you page.

It's spamming, definitely, but you don't care. Too busy freaking out. Only one of them respond.

oh wow wtf Mira was two weeks ago right? bit less like 11 days which yeah, wtf Do you think she told them about me? It's been months, it'd be weird who, zoey? you've used one of their sound recently, maybe it's that? i mean i don't know, i don't think so, it wasn't that impressive of a look please let your ego inflate at least a bit, that look was incredible it matched the vibe so well i messed up on the inner lining literally nobody noticed okay well I did

It's a problem you have, this need for perfection : a single spot is messy enough to be blurry, and you can no longer feel proud of the look. It was a problem you didn't have in school, problem that only applied to your art, for some reason. You've never really learned why, looked into it, didn't have the will or even want to go to a psychologist to find out why.

It doesn't bother you too much. It pushes you to keep practicing again and again, in a way. Drives you to redo a look until you're truly, really happy with it.

Problem is, sometimes you'll still post looks you're not entirely happy with, because Instagram is a beast that doesn't forgive inactivity, and then you'll inevitably end up the slightest bit upset when the posts will get the attention of more than your close cycle friends. It's even worse when said posts blow up and get, more, more attention than your usual small community brings you.

And, well, guess what happened. Exactly what you feared the most: being noticed for something you're not entirely proud with. Not a nightmare, not exactly, but not a dream of yours, definitely.

You don't even care all that much about Rumi, not really: she is well known, and you like her voice, but you wouldn't be falling down to your knees just for that. You like to think you have some standards. You're not about to go crazy for a stranger, thanks you very much.

Yes, even for Mira, even in those looks of hers you may or may not have been obsessed with the first time you ever saw some of them.

So you don't immediately answer her. The hours go by, and you actually manage to forget and go to sleep, doze peacefully and awaken the next morning thinking maybe you should be answering now. Except time is rushing by and you can't afford leisure in the morning.

Your morning is almost done when you manage to squeeze in a minute for you to grab your phone and answer her, finally, between eating your cereals straight from the box and hurrying to get into the bus.

The message's, well... It's really nice is what it is. It's her complimenting one of your own makeup look you had posted in your story someday last week (they're the only time you post your face anywhere: your posts are in a way for your online portfolio, and your stories are for republications and quick make-up looks done on yourself). It's also, her asking if you're the one who did Zoey's look for their more recent emission.

You blink. Oh. That's... Zoey hasn't contacted you, even after following you, so it really surprises you that Rumi knows of you, because, surely, if she does it means that Zoey talked about you, right? You're not the only make-up artist of the studio, and you're also definitely not well-known enough to have been talked about by other staff members to Rumi.

So unless she had cameras placed down in the room, there's quite literally no way for her to know about you.

You're... kind of flattered, really. Not flustered, not exactly. Standards. Bare minimum. You do not get flustered so easily. Your gay mind is still screaming a little, eager to make up theories and betray the logical part of your mind.

You ignore your gay mind. The way you go about answering is so logical and straight it impresses you, truly.

"Hi ! Sorry I didn't answer, my DMs are pretty much always full and i forget to check them all the time. Thank you so much though, that really means a lot." Is that enough? It's probably not enough. The bit where you says your MPs are always full is true, but it might be a little conceited. You thanking her is the bare minimum, but it isn't going to keep the conversation going- you send it anyway.

Compelled to by your urges to possibly get an answer before your bus arrives, and a very real lack of perfectionism.

You don't get your mind, sometimes.

The bus stops two times before you even get an answer, the usual 6 minutes it takes to. One more go by until your phone does its telltale ding, reminding you to mute it for the day. It's the answer you've been looking for, like you were thinking it would be.

You type in your password quickly, fingers used to the movement.

You blink. Well. It's... You don't have that much time to. There's maybe around two minutes left until you arrive and around 20 minutes until your work officially starts. Ten when considering the rush of the first hour usually starts before the clock says it does.

Attempt of a joke you kind of regret sending as soon at it's sent. But you can't edit it or even delete it, because it's immediately seen by Rumi. Well. Fuck.

You're... kind of confused. She needs your help? You'd think she would have her own team of stylist, with their budget. They might not be a mondial phenomena yet, but they've still officially debuted, and Rumi is still the daughter of Mi-yeong Ryu. They have more budget than most debuting artists can even dream to have. So, you're not too worried about her needing help.

But you are wondering why exactly she is asking you, then. For which reasons?

Maybe you're reading too deep into it. Maybe you just need to answer her and stop over-analysing an eighteen words message. (Which, yes, is still pretty long: but you haven't had literary classes since high-school. There's no need for you to analyse anything. You need to stop already.)

She sends a picture of her wrist then, with lighting that is a bit too good to be 7AM-night outside lighting. It's... Well, there's veins there, and the natural folds of skin, but that's not really enough.

Anddd she does. And you're, well. That's a nice jaw is all. And really nice eyes, in the following picture.

Suddenly you're left wondering what exactly you're doing. Kind of feeling like those men that asks for more and more specific pictures.

...Well. Might as well, right? You love that, trying to gather what would fit someone and how to dress their eyes and lips and skin up. Usually you do it instinctually, when you're looking at somebody and nothing else busying your mind. Or, well. Even then you sometime manage to do it anyway.

So if you're being asked to do it, you can manage it. Even feel nice doing it, really.

As long as all your followers don't start asking you the same, it'll be fine.

Except now that you're done walking, the door to the recording studio's waiting for you to open it up. You're there already. As some would say, you kinda have to lock in right now, unfortunately, unless you want to be fired.

You send a quick yes and an even quicker explanation as to why you have to leave and help her later, then you're doing just that.

Her rushed reassurance later on that of course, it's totally fine and that she can totally wait makes you smile as you put your things into your locker.

You put down your jacket and grab your apron and, yep, you're still smiling as you rush to get there on time before the artist of the day can.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your Ko-fi manifest itself with a buzzing of your phone. It's around 6 in the morning and you're meant to be getting on your way to work like usual. You're already thinking of this evening, though. To nap maybe? Probably comatose in front of a nice video while waiting for your food to be ready. Definitely experiment a little with eyeliner like you didn't have time to this morning.

Have time to look at your socials, too, which you're currently doing. You just got a donation that...

What.

The fuck.

That is a donation that's probably the highest you've ever gotten and one that's much, much higher than the 12 monthly dollars your Ko-fi usually do bring you.

This is.

You're not against money, really. Far from it. Your job pays, yes, but it doesn't pay that well, and okay you're not underpaid, but it's still usually just enough for your groceries and rent.

This is... Well, it'd help you pay at least three weeks of rents.

Is it obvious you're kind of freaking out yet?

You're freaking out.

You jump straight into your dms, because, come on, you're not dumb. rxmi_ is definitely her, you're very convinced of it, and you're so ready to freak the fuck out.

You text and you also send a screenshot of the latest donation, hovering over the poor usual 2 or sometimes 3, because, because. What. Literally insane.

The answer comes. You're stuck staring at it and wanting to scream because. what? What.

What. What the fuck. You don't send it, more busy considering screaming and startling everyone currently in the bus. You don't scream, but your mind really is. Like. Dog being overfed with treats and running round and round and round like. Fly enraptured with the warmth of a thousand lamps like. Going to explode like.

"How much what is ???" you send instead, with a dozen less questions marks that you really want to be sending.

Literally never ever was. You've never ever given any analysis, and if you had, you would not do it like this. Definitely not that casually.

Your tone might be lacking professionalism, okay- But you're freaking out. That was not meant to be professional. Sure, your approach was, but there's ways to give out the recommendations and there's ways to be reliant that you did not apply here.

You mind. You mind a lot. Or, well, you wouldn't say no to easy money, okay, but not when it comes to your work. Ethics, or something along the lines of, you don't know, but you do know this disturbs you.

You've never done it before. Sure, you've done the makeup of some of your friends, for their birthday, for practice, for fun, and you've done some tiny looks for children's party, but you've never gotten the occasion to do anything more professional than this. Occasions rarely go by, at least even more rarely ones that are available to you. You've studied cosmetology, but you've never had the connexions necessary to get opportunities, to get this job offer, this other one.

It is a nice idea, going there to examine the porosity of her skin and seeing how the spores would react to your products and colors, choosing the best options to enhance her already gorgeous face, it's one you'd love to turn to reality.

But reality is different than the scenarios you build in your mind. Traveling has a cost, losing a day of work even to earn money will have a cost either way. There's a reason why people do not offer themselves break days, off days, even when snot is running down their nose and the thermometer would be screaming at them if they didn't stop ignoring it. People can't afford to rest. Can't afford losing the income of a single day.

You chose to offer yourself a more fancy dinner last week rather than your usual quickly-warmed-up microwaved meals, so you can't chose to take this chance. It's fine. She was most likely kidding, even if you're thinking she likely wasn't. You don't know her enough to tell confidently you know her, know she was being an hundred percent serious. Really! You don't.

You meant it as a joke. You weren't being serious. It was a joke. Are all k-pop artists that keen to spend their money? Or so willing to get what they want that they'll just... spend away? You'd probably be doing the same if you had money yourself, but, still. It's, well, a bit shocking to you, in a way.

Your silence seems to be a bit too long for Rumi, because she sends another message, drawing your attention back to the screen instead of the bus ceiling.

Right. right. Because nepo baby. Right.

What should you do? Say no? Say yes? You're tempted to, really. But, well.

You hesitate but you do send that last message, because if she is so insistent on paying you for a service you did not deliver you're not going to just let it go like that. You don't like feeling like a charity case, being given money like that, especially with someone you've only been talking to since now three days and a half (even if for more than 12hours already).

... She leaves you on read.

Which. Really? Really. She's left you on read, and you're left blinking kind of outraged and considering spamming her. Is the knife emoji too threatening? You're feeling so tempted. And quite definitely not professional.

The money's still weighing down on your bank account.

You're kind of considering contacting her friends, too. Zoey, maybe Mira even if you've never ever talked to her and she's the most intimidating out of the three of them. Because. What.

No, seriously, what the fuck.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging: @lightningferell !

(if anyone wants to be added to the tagging list for this tiny serie thingie, just ask! it'd be more practical than following me given i post for. lots lots lots of fandoms. and might post the part three to that in literal months)

[starboys-paws]

I don't care if we're mutals, I WILL be scared to talk to you

[inejinn]

gender neutral reader, vigilante reader, 2k words, unconscious but there red hood

Panic: possible lack of breathing

Or: red hood has the wonderful idea of being caught in a fuck ass sort of explosion instead of avoiding it and you don't handle it that well

Sometimes you haven't been a vigilante for long enough to know what to do. This is one of those times. Red hood is laying on the ground and you don't know what to do- you just do whatever your chest is screaming you should maybe do.

Tremor's masterlist!

Your hands do not tremble, they shake. A full on storm raging through your hands, a full on storm inside your brain, a figure that is way, way too still down on the concrete. Shake so heavily you'd think of an health problem were it not for the situation in your vision.

That being: the current heap of a body laying right across you, body that's usually Red hood, up and about and snarky and haughty and more globally moving. Figure currently more crumbled statue than just shadow you sometime see across the streets.

You kneel down his side so suddenly it'll inevitably bruise later. You can't care about any possible later right now. Don't. Can't. Won't?

You don't know him, not that closely, but you still know you don't want him dead. He's trouble, he's danger, too, he's the kind of danger Gotham needs.

You two jokes around, sometimes talk, and you enjoy his presence when he isn't being haughty enough to not talk to you. That's pretty much it, but you don't mind. You mind, you mind so much right now, can't do anything but mind. Fuck. Fuck, shit, shit, shit-

There are noises around, far enough that you can afford not to care about the fighting, about the gunfire. Any other figures, other vigilantes are far gone, and you can't focus on where they are, you need to focus on Red Hood, on the blood that might be currently seeping out out of him. You starts to try and inspect him. Shifting him's not an option, something panicked in a corner of your mind manages to tell you calmly enough. His head when the explosion occurred might have hit something, you can't be sure, his spine too. You inspects, and his jacket lets you see nothing that really tells you to worry, but it's also not letting you see his chest moving clearly. There's armor under there, right? Kevlar, tactical jacket, insulated fabric, anything that screams protection, no bullet to the hearth, nothing to harm.

There is a darker spot on his jacket you don't like. It's not soot, and it's not any sort of fire you've seen. Why is Red Hood even down? He is strong, he's tough, tougher than you and you two have been caught in the same situation. The explosion happened and he's the one who's down and it doesn't make sense.

You press your fingers around the injury you find below the layer, wrap them around, plunge them in the blood. His shoulder's bleeding, but the rest of his jacket's red as well.

Logically, you know his heart or torso hasn't been touched. You've seen no shot, just the explosion. And the explosion was rough but it can't have touched his heart, because the mortier-driven, explosion-gun, whatever-creation was aimed at his head turned shoulder when the shooter moved. Logically, you knows blood will stain everything surrounding a wound, and there's no blood to his chest. Logically, you're aware of that.

Physically, your heart's beating inside your lungs so loudly you can feel it through the tips of your fingers, pulsating in your head and in your tensed jaw, rushing through your full body. It beats, it beats, it's screaming and it's going to halt if-

You can't feel his heartbeat.

If you remove your gloves and you still can't you don't know, what you'll do- you cant - don't know how you'll react how to bring somebody back to life, you don't know you'll never and you think you're gonna let the scream building inside your chest out. His breath doesn't hit your fingers, doesn't your your ears, once twice thrice twenty too long seconds and then.

And then. It does. It does. You feel it. Relief fills you so harshly you would have dropped to your knees, if, you weren't already there. He's- he's not fine yet. You need to will your hands to stop moving to stay still to stay around the temporary bandages to stop the blood flow to call Oracle-

You take off the helmet off of his head and it feels wrong, breaching into something you weren't allowed to discover yet if ever, breaking a silent promise you two had made to each other. You struggle to take the helmet with a single hand and you try and keep your hand close to the wound you found on his shoulder and try and ignore the fact there might as well be countless other ones. Would he not be waking up if there's only this one? How long has it been? You can't tell. Don't want to tell or can't or don't know how to. The weight around your head feels wrong.

There's a ringing. It's barely loud enough to be heard. Your hands fumble once, twice, stops. The ringing might have been better than your voice fighting itself to stay firm. There is a voice answering it and you. Need. To. stop. focus. Tell everything.

Everything necessary. The name of the street, still loud with chaos. The last 10 minutes, what is clear of it. The blaring hole, red of the shoulder, of the ground around. Not the rush, endless, in your fingers. Not of the one of your voice. But the breathing, yes, the twitches, yes, the signs, the life, yes, yes, yes again.

It feels wrong, the warmth of the helmet. Awful, the clear voice rushing through it, calmer than you could ever be, calmer, calmer than his voice before all of this.

Sirens could be blaring, and it would be all the same to your ears. To your chest. Lungs can startle, you knew. Lungs can tremble, you didn't.

Death live in every corner of the city, you're well aware of that. But it isn't something that you can look in the eyes so easily, it isn't something you've ever had the ability to hold the gaze of. You've fought down harm, but more rarely death.

There is a second there where there was that doubt death could be fought about. That he might as well be dead or dying, and it wouldn't be anything you could change. Deep, over your mind. Heavy, too heavy. Chocking.

He breathes. He's breathing- he is breathing, and your chest and your frame is shaking, and he's not dead. Not yet. He's almost fine.

"Methonimy. Hey. How slow are his breaths?"

You cling onto the question like it is your duty. Or, an anvil slowly, quickly, being brought back to the surface.

He's breathing. They're asking how fast. You tell them. "Slow? Quicker than previously. Hum. It's still slow." Your voice shudders, still: your hands too, down, coated in the blood.

"Could you count? I need the exact number per minute. I'll tell you when to stop."

There's something deep in the voice, that you focus on. The depth tells you this is an important task and you cling. Do it. One exhale, the second, the third, then twenty-one, twenty-two.

A minute passes by, apparently, longer than the previous one. You deliver your answer with all the confidence you can muster.

Your fingers are still holding onto the red, and holding onto the fabric of your hood keeping the blood inside his body. Maybe it's not too dirty yet. Infection away, no risk of it. You doubt it is, but at least, the blood seems to be slower now.

Slowing.

It's going to be slower soon. Oracle keeps asking you questions about the situation that you steadily answer, one after the other. Paramedics aren't coming, you don't think. The bats never get treated by them, not that you know of at least. It's a good thing your panic made you unable to remember your phone, then, maybe. Maybe. The blood's still flowing. It's slowing, but still flowing.

The helmet's still constricting your breaths.

A moment passes, longer than you like it being.

"E.T.A?", you ask. The acronym stumbles out of your mouth too awkwardly, too clumsy, but it gets you an answer either way.

"Red Robin coming through. Batman with the Batmobile will arrive before him."

You give a nod she can't hear.

This is your first meeting with him, have you said? Realized? You rarely hold conversations with them, but you've never even spoken to him. With him. Red Robin. They operate all too commonly on those other streets than your own, so conversations with some are rare. If you didn't come there to help, you might not have seen him, even. Egoistical, you wish you hadn't, just a little, just slightly.

Are they even alright together, him and Batman? The glares, the shaded words, do they hold against this? You don't know and you can't care. You've never called him anything but Red Hood and vigilante and gang-leader but this is someone who's come close to being called a friend to your subconscious, or at least something like it. This is someone that your subconscious hasn't called friend or close yet and he is bleeding on your hands.

Never has Batman's arrival made you feel more positive emotions than this relief. One moment your gaze is frozen to the slowing of the dripping, and then the other you see him. You notice only when he leaves the corner of your eyes.

He says something, surely. Thanks, grunt, dismissal, either but short anyway.

Either way you move, and either way you see more than assist Red Hood getting hauled into the arms then the car.

He nods at you, curt and short and hurried. You don't nod back for some reason.

Only notice you're still wearing his helmet when Red Robin arrived and you kept wearing it.

Times fly back too quickly only when you don't want it to. Taking it off and breaking from the stifling lack of fresh oxygen is too slow.

First encounter, still. You nods something like an acknowledgment at the person standing across of you. They answer with a small nod. He. He answers with a small nod and then he's asking you to consider going back home.

"Or, you know what, never mind that. Go back home, sleep, eat, do whatever you need to." He orders. "We're taking care of the rest."

We is him and Orphan, you imagine. Maybe Robin, too. They're the only others who you knows to be in town and out right now. And "the rest" means the rest of the group that threw their diy bomb at you and Red Hood, you assume.

"What about Killer Croc?", you go. Speak. Not your usual voice still. You ignore it again. Last you heard, he was still being a problem. Before the bomb exploded, you heard him roaring even through Red Hood's com.

"Taken down already. What, are you doubting our skills?"

The shift of his mask (domino? you think that's what they're called. masks work just as well in the moment. Red hood wasn't wearing either, have you realized yet?) probably implies something like challenge, like eyebrow flexing up, something like maybe defiance.

Nothing reassuring, not like in the tone you try and use with kids who lost their parents, but something that still makes the pace of your heart settles just the slightest bit.

He doesn't wait for your answer to start talking again, but you don't blame him. Don't think you do. You just, let your expression shift into a more complex one. Mixture of multiple emotions your mind's too scrambled to figure out now.

"The smell following me should be indication enough, no?", he says, one hand moving to his hips. "The sewers probably were more muddy than they've ever been, I'm sure you can smell it."

It's weird, how well they're working, the random things he's speaking, from time to time. Maybe the randoms things are distraction enough, or maybe your mind's just latching onto anything else than the warmth onto your nails. Either way, the grip the explosion of the gun had on your chest gives enough leeway for you to take a full breath. He sets some rubble to the side, and you follow in clearing the blocked road.

He goes not too late after. Leaves to check on the Red Hood, probably. It's what you'd do, if you were part of them.

There's parts of you that are not still yet. They might not be until a while. You want to scream.

You're going to follow Red Robin's advice, as soon as you can. Eat up and pray the food will act as a sleeping drug, and try and get the images out of your head, try to slow down your body. Just one last gaze at the mess the street is still, and you will.

Days later, when you look up what to do in case of an emergency, (something you should have done and studied long, long ago, truly), you learn your nerves might have killed him. You never, ever take somebody's helmet off after a crash. It applies to explosions, surely, no? But you had to check, and you had to call, and- If Oracle were to offer for you to join their network, you might say yes. Just to have someone to contact, if it happened again.

prev - tremor's masterlist - next

[inejinn]

makeup artist-reader x zoey : gender neutral reader, 2,7k words, pre-romance!

Nothing that should conceal this smile

takes place after their debut, when they aren't popular enough to have full teams of makeup and stylist stressing over them before any representations or shows :) (reader is meant to be gender neutral but i do think this can be intepreted as f!reader)

But your precise brush-strokes are not akin to surgery removal, and they don't harm anyone, not even those creases you're so fond of. They hide away the small blemishes, sure, they add specks of colors where needed, but that's all they do.

------------------------------------------------

The creases in the corner of her eyes are not something you specifically want to hide away behind layers of concealer, but it is something you have to do. Shame, but it isn't like you're removing them alltogether. That'd be a downer. Really. You'd probably have to kill yourself for your crime.

You like to think of it as magic, make-up. It embellishes what could be deemed as bland, gives out the impression people want other to perceive, add details to any plain outfits... It can be tedious, yes, but you think it's worth it. Like any form of art, really.

It's a shame you don't get the occasion to do it on yourself as intricately as you want to, when the weeks get more busy. Still, you're grateful: you get to do the make-up of people who are going to be showing it for thousands of eyes to see, and you get paid for this. It hasn't been too long since you've been able to. It's been long enough you're well acquainted with the procedure, by now. Acquainted with quickness and efficiency rather than creativity, too.

The line of your pencil flows easily on the skin, a practiced stroke quickly going across the beginning to the end point you chose.

You go to do the second line and.. the celebrity moves in her chair. The line turns dramatically not symmetrical. Your heart, also dramatically, skips a beat.

"Zoey!" you go: the cry escapes naturally, born out of your newly born despair.

"oops, sorry!", she says, smile deep and deeply apologetical. This is a smile that could move mountains to forgiveness. It's a smile that could definitely have a fan squeal and post about for days. It's a smile that is definitely not enough to calm you down.

"Shit shit sh-" You catch yourself before falling into a spiral of curses. Composure, you remind yourself. Salary, you remind yourself. Professionalism. "Okay, okay, that's fine."

Zoey seems to notice how you truly mean the opposite, apparently. Her eyebrows furrow a little, creating a crease you don't like as much as the ones of her dimples. "Is it that bad?", she asks, making move to twist around toward the mirror.

The hand of the hairstylists stops her before she has the chance to make the straightening of her hair into curling. Not that it'd look bad, you don't think so, but there isn't going to be enough time left before the representation to change the planned hairstyle, there really isn't.

"Sorry!" she hurries to apologize again, this time towards the hairstylist.

Said hairstylist's quick to excuse her, focusing more on her task at hand. More professional than you've always been: she doesn't let herself get distracted with small chat, like you currently are doing instead of trying to solve the current problem.

"Well, it definitely looks like you just fought with your eyeliner and lost the fight", you answer her, producing a hand-mirror out of the pocket of your apron.

"Ooooo, yep, that's looking bad", she winces, fingers wrapping delicately around your mirror. They're a bit too tight around it, you notice when you get distracted looking at the chipping of her nail polish.

You subtly shakes your head around, focusing your mind back on solving the current disaster that her showing up like this on set would be.

"I don't think even Mira could pass this off as a new type of trend, right? Maybe if we say we're giving grunge a try it'd work?", Zoey tries, still way too much hope in her tone.

It's a wonder how she's always so hyped or simply optimistic, you think. The hype might be what's getting her throughout all of her shows and public appearances, though, you suppose.

"Yeah, no, sorry." You push away the bottles hiding the micellar water you really didn't think you were going to need. The glimpse you sneaked at the clock while you straightened back up tell you something you're really, really not happy to know. 15 minutes left. This is such a time crunch it should probably renamed something like time crack, honestly. "Okay. Okay. I'm gonna try removing the eyeliner on this side then redo it. We may have to forgo the highlighter."

"That's fine! It was my fault, i'll make do with whatever you do!", she says, standing still as can be this time while you start trying to erase the mess.

Right. It's sweet she's saying that, really. That doesn't reassure you. You have a reputation to precede : this is your job, it can't just end up messed up. Or, well, unless maybe...

You take another cotton pad out, letting the makeup-removant slightly humidify it.

Maybe... You squint at her eyes, down at the sequins adorning her outfit for the show, then feel the idea starts to enlighten your mind.

"Can I try something else?", you ask, already visualizing multiple options before she's even answered. The sequins are green, and they catch the dressing-rooms light in a way that's almost competition to the ever-present glimmer to her eyes, too much contrasting- it wasn't bothering you before, just a thought in a corner of your mind, but now you think you could do something to solve that thought.

"Sure! You're the pro, I trust you." she says, glancing at a specific area around the higher part of your face. Not at the mascara that you can feel beginning to melt due to your fluttering around and the cheap AC, hopefully.

"I was thinking maybe we could be something less sharp than your usual eyeliner? But bring back the sharpness by using kohl underneath-" You start to explain, and she nods all the while, encouraging you on.

Truth be told, her praises are really making you feel something like relief. Pride, too, maybe. You'll try not to focus on them until you've reached an acceptable stage into the application of her makeup, however. Time-crunch, still. You can't afford to be distracted.

You'd grab your own makeup palette to use the specific shade of green you had in mind, but it wouldn't be sanitary and the trip to the lockers room would be way too long, unfortunately. That shade would have done so well in bringing out her eyes- But the palette is tucked into a corner of your locker currently, hidden away by your empty lunch-box and too many cans of soda to keep track off.

Instead, you take the palette you currently have available and you quickly get to mixing the pigments along each other. The yellow was a little too bright for your liking- too neon, too warning sign instead of the paler sunflower you would have liked. You've added more of the pine-tree green to compensate, and now you just have to bring the slightest hint of bright neon green. The green you get is a get that matches her outfit well enough, and more importantly, that fits her complexion almost perfectly.

That now done, you place your mixture to the side and, finally, gets to blurring the eyeliner line you had previously drawn. It fades away, just enough to only be a blurry residuum. You nod back to the hairstylist's good-luck nod in between two cotton-pads, as she avoids your storage-cart to leave. The clock says 13 minutes left, and it reminds you that if you want to be done on time, you need to hurry. Enough to be done on time, you're sure.

So long as Zoey doesn't move again, which you're pretty convinced she won't.

Even if- "Okay this is literally genius! I can't believe I never thought of mixinng eye-shadows together, I'm absolutely going to be stealing that idea", she blurts out, not even two minutes into the new make-up process. It took her longer to start chatting, this time. A miracle, maybe? You don't know her well enough to say.

"Oh, I'm not the only one that came up with it", you dismiss. "Close your eyes back, please."

Her eyes snaps closed in the millisecond that seems to follow.

"Right, right, sorry!", she says, then immediately go back to yapping. "Still, I would have never thought of it. Even less under pressure, I'm so bad with it. I once dropped my plate when I was-"

You don't mind the rambling, honestly. You can count the amount of celebrities who've been pleasant to you on one hand, and she counts as one of the rare ones who've been so cheerful. It's not even in a way that is more persona than truth, too. It's just, nice. Her smile as she finishes telling her story even pushes you to want to talk back.

"Rice too? That must have been hell to clean", you ask, finally applying your powder onto her eyelids. The left one has a bit less surface to work with, but you make it works.

"Oh, yeah, I spent hours picking them up. They got into every intersection of the tiles too, I thought I was going to cry, but, you know, I wasn't just going to let them there all over the place!"

"Maybe that just means you're a vampire and you're not aware of it"

Her eyelashes flutter, once, twice. Even devoid of mascara, they look longer than the norm. "Huh?"

"Oh. Sorry, yeah, that's not that well known. In some myths vampires have to count grains or seed thrown at them before they can do anything else"

"Ohhhh yeah, I indeed didn't know that. Do they have to count sand too? Do they have to count the snowflakes in snowballs?"

"I... have no clue for the snow. But definitely for the sand. I think it works for objects too but I don't know enough to tell you, sorry."

"That's okay! Do you know what culture this come from?"

"... No. Not really. It's a thing in the macedonian culture maybe? I just saw the information someday while scrolling on Tiktok, I didn't remember everything", you admit. The inner corner of her right eye is still missing some pop of color.

"Oh yeah, I do that all the time too, but I can't help it, everything's just too interesting. I do remember some facts better than the others! Mainly scientific ones about the ocean wildlife, I love those. Did you know starfishes do have eyes? Because I didn't, I was so surprised."

"I didn't either" You blow on your brush, softly whisking away all the left-over powder. "You can open your eyes."

"Already??", she gushes.

Her eyes flutter back open, turning before you could tell her not to if turning would have been a problem. It isn't, luckily.

"Not really. I still have to touch up your highlighter and do your khôl, if you're still up for it." The clock indicates there's now 8minutes left before the cameras starts turning: probably enough time. Likely enough time. You can do this

"Instead of the eyeliner right?" At the nod of your reflection, she answers back with an assured smile. "Yeah, sure, if you say it'll look great, I'm leaving it to your judgement. Just please don't stab me with the pen, it would not be practical to fight."

There's an odd shift to the way she says the word fight, compared to the others but you don't have enough time to interpret it before she keeps on speaking. "It'd also be really sad if I couldn't see you anymore, I absolutelyyy love your look"

It's your turn to blink, this time. "Thanks", you just end up saying, then turns to grab the eye pencil you were picturing to use with your eyeshadow. "I love your outfit, too", you add.

"My costume ? Mira styled it, I'll tell her you like it."

"No, I was talking about the outfit you were wearing before you changed." Some sort of ensemble with stylized motifs : you didn't quite see, but you know you liked the shape. Her bob matched the yellow of the lines, too: all a little bold, but you're all for that. It fits her well.

"Oh! Thanks!"

"Okay, keep your eyes wide open this time."

"Khôl time?"

" Khôl time", you confirm. "Unless you want to do it yourself. I'd like it more if you were at ease I wouldn't stab you."

"I mean, I didn't say I thought you were going to! Just implied you might a little"

Does she gets stabbed on the daily, or? You pass her the pencil wordlessly, figuring it'll help you save some time. Check the time, habit driven into your very body : 5 minutes left, somehow already. You grab the highlighter, then decide to take the setting spray, as well, in case she will be wanting it. And if you have the time to use it, that is.

Turns out you indeed do not have the time to: she's fairly quick to add the heavy hint of color to her water line, but you're still left with only 4minutes left and her lips and highlighter to touch up. Using the spray then might means you will be over-time considering it would have to dry fully, and you won't dare take the risk. The studio might be less known than some, but this is still television channels with their tights schedules and sterns clocks. There's a reason why the ticking of the analog clock is syncing with the digital one.

The sound echoes as you keep on practicing your art, all the while restraining your urge to let your creativity flows. No time to, Zoey hasn't requested it, it wouldn't match the rest of her group- All plenty of reasons to have to put your mind on a leash. Her chatting away with you does help quells the urge, you find: it's a distraction, and her conversation really is nice.

"Okay." You add one last brush stroke then, finally, then stands back, pushing your brushes back into your apron. "You're done."

You can look, you don't have to precise this time as she turns without being asked to: you've grown used to it, anyway.

Zoey stays still in front of the mirror, longer than what usual. You don't have to wonder whether to worry or not, though, because then she is turning again, back towards you "Oh my god. I love this SO much, you did awesome!! You made me look literally so hot"

She stands up, or maybe more springs up, and you almost think she's going to be embracing you. You brace for impact, some part of you fully convinced she is going to.

But, no- She just go straight back to praising the fuck out of you. "

"I mean, I should definitely have known, I even complimented your outfit earlier, it was totally guessable everything you'd touch would turn cool like you are. Plus, no offense to your colleagues, but you always have the best makeup looks out of all of them", she says with her eye still wide open in awe. Reaching to her phone makes her freeze just like you just have. "OhhgodI'mlatefor the practicerushs I'msosorryI have to go-".

The sudden flutter of movement across the room is her, you know but can't quite comprehend. One moment she is sitting down, admiring the result of your idea, and the other the chair is left spinning a little and she is across and almost out the dressing room. "Please remind me to take a picture later if you're still here!"

And just like that, she is out and rushing to arrive before Mira's infamous frown of disappointment and despair. You stand there for a minute, a bit flustered. She's skipping her green room altogether, you gather. Welp.

You move when you have to get the next artist's makeup ready, eventually, obviously, but her bright smile reminds in a corner of your mind all afternoon-long. You hope she'll come back, eventually- This is a program that only host newly-found truly promising discographies, but there's also other programs that are hosted. Maybe someday K-pop Demon Hunters will be big enough to get on the live-show representation program, who knows. You hope so, just as much for them as for your own slightly more egocentric reasons.

In the meantime, two Instagram accounts get added to your following list. You get a follow back, a little after, from an account named some sort of keysmash like zoejsyoujixxy.

It gets added to your following list too, eventually, when it comments on one of your posts and you finally realizes who that is.

➺ part two !

hi! i had never seen a huntrix x reader fic before so I don't know if there is a public for it but in case there is : hi, here you go , thanks for reading :) this was pretty indulgent haha, i just wanted something to write and not have to stress about. and that's the result

also, this will be getting a part two at some point! I just don't know when, might be in months, ask to be tagged in instead of following me if you want to read the next part

[inejinn]

quick question, how do i get a secondary account that'd be tied to this one? there's sm i want to reblog but doing it on this one would overwhelm me so quickly oops

[inejinn]

gender neutral reader, vigilante reader, batfamily observed from afar

Anticipation : things are alright. it's still pooling inside your veins.

Batfamily Week 2026

@batfamily-week

Day 2: Calm before the storm (quite literally)

or: the Bat-family, observed through an outsider's point of view (yours)

tremor's masterlist

Today there is no sun in the sky. Or, well, it's still there, obviously: this is no metropolis-threat-level where the sun would have disappeared unnaturally, it's just it's currently hidden behind a grey sky and still-small clouds.

Today's a calm day entirely, actually. There are some robberies there and there, obviously, some of the occasional physical assault, but nothing too drastic compared to what consists in Gotham's normalcy.

Calm enough that you get to sit around on a random roof and look at the people moving through the street. Just to chill, instead of being on a recon mission, or on the lookout for anything. It's a nice change of things, for once. It's been like this for the past few days, though, so you might not call this a change. It's nice. You're not even aching from your civilian job too much like you usually get at the end of the week.

Signal isn't out in the streets at all today. You're pretty sure you saw a flash of his suit this morning, but that was about it. No fun (or absolutely all over the place) conversations for you today. Aw.

You figure you're not gonna be seeing the Red Rood either, if things are so calm. Or any bats at all.

It's kind of funny, really, how the two fly around each other, the bats and the calm. Like the two opposite sides of a magnet, or water and oil. When it turns calm, the bats rarely stays.

When the bats gets there, calm rarely stick around, either. They have a capacity to turn silence into banter in a way you're simultaneously horrified at and amazed by.

Like, seriously. They'll insult each other in what you're sure is the most hidden fondness possible and then snarls cute nicknames like they're the most annoying words there are. You live for it, whenever you have the occasion to listen in to their patrols-conversations, in those moments where things quiet down.

Now you're kind of wishing things would turn hectic again, just to be asked to help them on their patrol and to get to listen in to the drama.

It's weird, that feeling of listening in, like you're intruding on a family dinner you wouldn't have the references of: like you don't know their favorite dishes or the ones they despite, but they're so passionate about it you still end up convinced by whoever's being the most skillful with their arguments. Like you're getting a glimpse into a dinner room people are not privy to. It's a metaphor that's becoming too long, but it's what you feels like, when witnessing their proximity. Puzzled, mostly.

But it's also entertaining, and you're thriving for it, really.

A tussle on the street puts a stop to your train of thought. They stay on alert for a full three seconds before you catch sight of the hand that's offered to the person who just got tripped. The boy stands up, and you're sure you catch a bright snort of laughter coming out of the blonde girl, even from your sitting place.

The dirt from the sidewalk that ended on his pants is swiped off. It drops back down, and you're pretty sure the boy's throwing one of the coldest stare there are at the girl.

You take it as your sign you've been lazing off for too long, then. If they were really fighting, you're not sure you would have intervened quickly enough.

You wait for them to leave, and then you're leaving your own spot, hopping off from the fire-escape. You'll allow yourself another break later, if things keep being alright. Hopefully you'll find an up-to-standard fire-escape, next time: the creaking of the rust was kind of starting to get on your nerves, even weigh on your mind.

It's probably not an achievable wish, though, if you trust your knowledge in Gotham and it's distress. It'd be nice if Bruce-rich as fuck-Wayne could look into that, instead of hosting galas for the elite's leisure, honestly, as nice as his various already existing financary-aid are.

The sun starts to drop. You know because you're back to gazing at the landscape, for one, but also because there is as familiar shape on one of the opposite rooftops. A cape and ears and a smaller figure standing loud and proud behind it.

They stand the same way. You wonder if this is because of how he might have been trained by Batman, sometimes, or if this similarity is of a different source. You haven't had the occasion to exchange with the youngest of the bats much yet. Talking with Batman isn't something you do a lot, too. Still. You've noticed the way their speech of patterns is alike, just like you've noticed how subtly protective he is to them all. You'd be kind of dumb, if you didn't.

But you don't want to assume anything, so you just stop looking into what they might be. It's not your business.

You don't have a sixth sense, or anything of the sort. It's something you'd honestly like, having a spider-tingle like Peter Parker does in the comics. Future rushing through your skin in a way that'd warns you of what's to come. It might have let you avoid some punches that ended up hitting you straight in the face (your nose hated you for weeks after this).

Here, instead, there is only an odd shiver that might not means anything, in the end. It's been a long time since anyone last wrecked havoc in the streets of your city.

Nothing's telling you it's going to change. It doesn't have to, really. The sky could stay clear. Something in your mind tells you it won't.

But everything is still clear and the Bats haven't contacted you for help, instead (you think) having some sort of tag game to probably pass the time, and you think this might be fine, tonight. And if it isn't, you're hopeful things will be, for once.

prev , tremor's masterlist, next

[inejinn]

Trickles of warmth

Batfamily Week 2026

@batfamily-week

Day 1: Firsts | Skeletons in the closet | Sunshine

or: some of the first times Duke was called sunshine by the people in his life

The first time Duke is ever called Sunshine by anyone, it's by his mom and his beam just gets even brighter. Kicking the rock he was playing with one last time, he hurries to join her.

She's waiting and he hops around her, so so excited. They're going to the library and he's finally getting to know what happens next in Wings of Fire! And library afternoons mean special snacks after, too, and it's just the best thing ever, to him right now.

His mom smiles back at him. "Come on Sunshine, before we get drenched, huh? It wouldn't do to bring back your books all wet."

"Uh uh", he nods, taking the offered hand into his with practiced ease. Switches to a ramble about one of the nice stray-dogs immediately after.

They keep walking, and he swings their hands around. The other stays carefully on the strap of his bag, just not to lose the books.

The sky stays merciful even after, when they were leaving the library. It was all dark, but there was still the smile on his lips. He doesn't remember what Elaine told him, when they were walking. Only her laughter. Her smile, too. Kind of, when he focuses.

The first time he's called Sunshine by someone else than her and his dad, after everything (after the joker, after the home-placements, after the rest) he startles, kind of.

Plays it off casually, if casually means letting out the most awkward, choked playful "shut up" he's ever said. It is not, indeed, any sort of casual, judging by the look in Dick's eyes. Like he's just accidentally insulted his grandma, or something like that.

"What? I just think it's absolutely too easy of a nickname. It's like I'd go around calling Damian something like Birdie", he points out.

"He'd have your head", Dick answers.

"Not my point. I'm talking about how you've been seeing my suit and powers and still immediately picked the easiest nickname ever. That's so uninspired. Honestly ain't deserving of the robin mantle anymore", he shrugs.

"Hey! I'd let you know I, quite literally, created it", he says like everybody in the vigilante world doesn't know the first Robin is now the only Nightwing.

"Uh uh," Duke nods gravely. "It's ancient. Like your puns." He adds.

Dick's gaze immediately turning seemingly-haunted makes it all worth it.

He grows used to Dick calling him that, then. It's not a big deal when he keeps alternating between equally cheery nicknames, or straight-up dumb ones for everyone he knows.

He's okay the first time the nickname leaves Steph's lips, too.

She says it with such ease he doesn't even realize until after she's stolen his bowl of cereals and eaten literal spoonfuls of it.

"Hey! You'd steal food from the literal sun?"

"Wow. Duke, seriously, the difference between the sun and sunshine is huge. I can't believe your ego would be so big as to mix them up", she sighs, mournful.

Seriously, all bats-related people should be drama kids or some similar thing. They should form a company. They'd do great.

"And I can't believe the pit in your stomach's so big you're depriving mine of its food", he immediately answers back.

"Our pits should fight to death I think."

"Bet?"

"Bet", she answers.

She keeps doing that after that one time, that being the way she'll adresse him with sunshine whenever she wants to tease him. He gets used to it pretty easily. Kinda like he got used to her teasing him quickly.

So he's also alright when Cass starts saying it, just as weirdly fond, the word being said easily by her once and then occasionally time and time again. Gets used to it too.

Might as well expect everyone to start doing it.

He wants to take it back. He's taking all of it back.

Sunshine escapes Bruce's throat after a way too long night where Duke had to go out and help the night-vigilantes and where they all kept calling him sunshine for the heck of it. (To be fair, he was calling them the most horrendous nicknames along with Tim and Jason's sort of fight/banter. He's there for the chaos too, sue him. Sue him and everyone else that made this situation possible.)

He freezes. Bruce freezes. Nobody else freezes because nobody else's in the cave, not even bats like he first believed there were. It might have been better, honestly. Way less awkward, and all. Yep, he'd take getting hit in the face by an army of bats over this any time.

Bruce makes a sort of throaty sound, or weird throat clearing and then turns to where the batarangs are kept.

And then keeps cleaning his current one a little too extensively not to be suspicious.

"Right. Uhm. I'm gonna crash into bed, it's calling my name", Duke announces, head cask still firmly held in his hands. He sets it down.

"Good night", Bruce grunts, avoiding his gaze unlike the full grown-ass adult he's supposed to be. Honestly, Duke's fine with that.

Win-win situation. He'd rather avoid the feelings him saying the nickname caused his chest to endure. No thanks. Not going down that path tonight. He'll think about role-models and parental-figures later. The biggest nap of his week awaits him right now.

"Good night" he echoes, then try not to think of it anymore. Keeps any thought of the sun farrr away from his mind.

If Damian ever says it, he's honestly going to lose his sanity.