@controlxfreak said: “ i want to be like you. “ accepting
Years ago, he might’ve liked the compliment. Now when he’s warming hands on coffee to get feeling back into them so he can actually use weapon, not so much. Of course he already knew how the kid felt about him. Much like Midoriya and All Might. Both of them had chosen rather poor role models. Shouta tucks his legs up under him on the bench and takes a small enough sip not to burn his tongue. “I am a terrible person to look up to, seriously. Do as I say not as I do.” At least he could acknowledge his own shortcomings. “How though? If you like my work, great, if you like...the rest of me maybe don’t look at that bit.”
My muse had been kidnapped and tortured for the past week send “I’m here- I’m here, now” for your muse to save them.
Where they had him was a dark and cold place. So dark, he wasn't even able to see where the food they had left for him was. When the door would open for some very few seconds, the light would be too painful for his eyes so he'd have to close them and wait to hear it cling again. After a few days, they'd give him a small amount of rice. Enough to keep him alive but not enough to have any strength to move the slightest.
The place was cold too. So cold Shoto would always tremble in the white t-shirt and pants they had put on him. He couldn't use his left side anymore to keep himself warm. He didn't know if this was permanent or not and couldn't really care anymore. He had lost faith in being rescued many days ago and had lost his will to fight the moment he had a conversation with one of the League's members. The moment he found out who DABI really was, everything he used to believe in, lost meaning. In the end, he probably deserved this fate. Losing his Quirk - and probably his life - from the one person that had suffered the most because of his existence.
When the door opened, he brought his legs close to his chest, burying his face on his knees so he'd hide from the light. Yet, he didn't listen to the door close again and a familiar voice was suddenly heard. A reassuring voice. He raised his head, trying to look at him but his eyes hurt, and couldn't help but blink and bow his head.
The right side of his face was burnt. His body was covered in cuts and he had lost way too much blood because of Toga. If it wasn't for Shigaraki, she would have killed him just to take every last drop of it. He wondered if she could be out there, transformed like him. He wondered if anyone had noticed his absence and was looking for him.
He heard his voice again but couldn't recall who he was. Even if he wanted to believe he was saved, this could be another trick. This could be a trick to make him spit everything he knew out. A tiny bit of someone's blood and they would have appeared right in front of him, wearing Toga's smile. He had seen his father and Midoriya before. How could he believe SHE wasn't the one in front of him?
BROWS FURROW. he steps silently towards the boy with purple hair, hands tucked into pockets. the air had a sharp chill to it — all thanks to winter that decided to blow in over night. they were to train. THE HEROES. so, why . . . ‘ what are you doing here, extra? ’
It wasn’t like he was bleeding or anything. Not internally at least. Nothing that he was willing to stick around and get admitted for. How ironic it was for someone who had been so successful to have multiple missions go so awry. It would be depressing if he wasn’t so focused on getting in the door. At least someone had been to get a copy of the key made. He’d have to sort out the wallet situation later. That was a problem for tomorrow. The door was doing a fine job of holding him upright, but he would have to eventually step in and let go of it.
And of course Shinso was up and heard him coming. “-hey.” Shouta does feel bad about just ditching out of the blue, but it wasn’t that uncommon for underground pros to get called away at a moment’s notice. Generally with orders not to tell anyone they were even leaving. Which never really made sense to him, but he’d done more than a couple stealth ops to just go with it. The last thing he wants to do is have to explain where he’s been. Not that he had to, but Shinso did deserve some sort of explanation as to why he left. And why he was showing up with substantially shorter hair probably looking like hell at least worse than usual.
It takes some effort to shuffle past the door and keep a hand on the knob. He’s trying to lean back against it, but the borrowed blanket doesn’t offer much protection between wood and burns. It feels stupid and scratchy, like he’s some kind of traumatized civilian, but at least it helps keep him a little warmer. Shouta tries to force himself upright without hurting ribs too much, ultimately ending a little slouched. He can feel it coming before it does. The rush of lightheadedness that usually comes after serious head trauma except he doesn’t have any this time which really is a miracle.
He’s slow, slow and stiff and too dizzy to try to coordinate arms to catch himself when knees give out. Slamming forearms into the floor is not his preferred method of doing things, but at least it stops him from hitting head instead. That hurts. Everything still hurts and he stopped feeling hungry a while ago. Now he’s more nauseous. Things are spinning and he’s starting to wonder if he should’ve at least accepted an iv. “Fuck.”
“Fear is good. It means you have self-preservation instincts. Never be ashamed of your fear.”
Fear sentence starters | Accepting
The words did very little in the way of allaying his fears and even less in the way of helping him to feel like less of a failure. They rang with plenty of truth. Fear was healthy. Fear kept you grounded, helped you to find your strengths and weaknesses. Fear kept you alive. Much as Shinso said, fear meant you had self-preservation instincts, and that was exactly what you needed in the world, especially as an aspiring Hero.
Despite that, despite the truth of those words and despite Bakugou objectively knowing all of that, the words still managed to smack of failure. Not because Shinso meant it that way, but because the blonde couldn’t think of this as anything else. Imagine someone trying to become a Hero, driven to uselessness by something as juvenile as a loud noise. A wannabe Hero who was nothing more than a pompous fuck-up-turned-pussy who couldn’t handle thunderstorms. It went beyond whatever the fuck doctors had tried explaining it away as. It was cowardice in his eyes and in his mind and nothing had served to convince him otherwise.
And now that cowardice was on full display. Now he was sitting on someone else’s bed, curled over his knees with his hands pressed firmly over his ears and his expression scrunched up as he tried to regulate his breathing. Worse again, worst of all he had to take the hand off of his left ear, the one he heard more from, in order to scrub at his eyes and rid them of the traces of tears that never strayed past his wet line. Now he was in a place where someone else could see how the great Bakugou fucking Katsuki, wannabe Hero extraordinaire, was terrified of thunderstorms after a fateful blast from one of his gauntlets had sealed the deal and completely torn his right eardrum.
He’d had it explained to him by professionals, and more than once. It was a sign of PTSD, symptomatic of his trauma. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it and it didn’t make him any less powerful or driven; it didn’t mean he was lesser. It simply meant that the loud explosions way up in the sky triggered a panic response that he couldn’t control, and that should have been okay. But to Bakugou it was anything but. He’d grown up in a household where weakness was punished, and fear was weakness. He’d lived in a place most of his life where you were ‘given a reason to be afraid’ if you showed the signs of being a ‘fucking pussy.’ And now all of that trauma coupled with his new-found fear of loud noises that he didn’t have direct influence over was culminating in him cowering on Shinso’s bed trying to block out the sounds that made him feel like the insides of his ears were crackling and screaming and bleeding all over again. Each new crack of thunder brought with it a hollow ring in his right ear, and he couldn’t even tell if it was phantom ringing or his hearing aid anymore.
The blonde shook his head, breaths ragged around the edges, and tried to open his mouth to speak; to argue against the fact that fear was good. In his crimson eyes it was anything but. But another, much louder clap of thunder boomed through the sky, hard enough to rattle the windows, and he all but jack-knifed back around himself with a strangled whimper that would have made him want to curl up and die if he weren’t concentrating so hard on not hyperventilating, shaking like he’d been the one struck by lightning.
Like he’d been the one blasted out of the sky by his own explosions.
it wasn’t so much that shinso couldn’t sleep, as he hadn’t tried. he leaned against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, though upon seeing todoroki, he was quick to place his phone face - down on the counter. with his hand no unoccupied, he found himself desperate to busy it with something, so he settled for trying to tame the mess of lavender hair sticking up in every direction.
❝ you’re not usually awake this late. you wake up just to honor me with your presence? ❞
he didn’t show his sarcasm in his voice, keeping it purposefully monotonous.
Sleeping wasn't always easy for Shoto. Many nights, he'd pass out to sleep. He'd be so tired that nightmares wouldn't wake him up in the middle of the night. The rest of the time, memories of a past he wished to move on from mixed with his worst fears wouldn't let him rest. He'd open his eyes and be certain that he could listen to HER cries still. He'd still look at his hands as if they were dumped in blood. He used to think that as his heart and mind started to heal, those nightmares would go away, but he was wrong. Their subject would only change. Not being a good enough hero. Not saving everyone in time. Losing a friend in battle. So many things his younger self wasn't worried about before but was suddenly forced to face on his first steps towards being a hero.
This was one of those nights. He couldn't fall asleep again so he had decided to get something to eat. He always enjoyed food and if it wasn't this late and was given permission to leave the dorms, he would have visited the nearest soba restaurant. But he could settle with a sandwich for now, as it seemed.
“ I didn't know you were awake too, ” he admitted. He didn't know what kind of reply Shinso expected. How could he have known? He noticed the coffee he had at hand, wondering if he planned to stay up for the rest of the night. He hadn't tried coffee before to know if that drink could actually help him stay up for that long.
He moved to the fridge to take the ingredients to make himself a sandwich, appreciating the gesture of placing his phone down even if they weren't having a conversation. “ I'll make something to eat, ” he explained. “ Do you want something? ” He didn't know how to make almost anything, but since everyone helped with cooking in their class, he thought it was necessary to ask.
HE WAS JUST A KID, and an annoying one at that. though he was quiet and didn’t speak too much, he could sense that the young man had a lot on his mind. they were SIMILAR in that way. YUCK. it wasn’t too long ago that shinso hitoshi joined the league, and shigaraki was RAVING about all the potential the child had.
so what? he could CONTROL MINDS? everybody else here had a quirk that was just as powerful, and the child was simply no match for the adults that walked the same halls as himself. dabi found the kid to be annoying and . . . over - hyped, for lack of a better term. especially since shinso didn’t really display his power too much.
but for some ODD REASON, the younger purple - haired brat had grown fond of dabi. constantly trying to find ways to tease and poke at the older every chance he got, it wasn’t long before dabi started to view shinso like an annoying younger sibling. but like the older sibling he was, he knew how to poke back.
“ maybe when you start bringing shit to the table, you could be more USEFUL to us. why not put that weird - ass quirk to good use, kid? ”
