#coldbloodedfeud

“Why isn’t it working?” one of the men in the, frankly creepy looking, plague masks demands. To which another one replies, with equal frustration, that he doesn’t know.

Izuku has no idea what those little dart like bullets are meant to do. They certainly sting, digging deep into his flesh and bringing out little pinpricks of blood. Initially he had considered that there was some sort of drug. Poison or sedative like in his own arrows. 

But it had been almost ten minutes since the first one had pierced his skin (shortly after he’d entered the residence serving as a cover for the Shie Hassaikai base and had failed to formulate a proper excuse to search the property) and there hadn’t been any affect. Much to the distress of his assailants.

Well, at least Izuku can chalk up one win in this otherwise disastrous evening of carefully planned failures. Or, perhaps not so carefully planned; because he had come here on an impulse. Had gone to the place where he’d seen Eri on impulse. Had tied up the guard there on impulse. Had retrieved the blueprints for the group’s base on impulse. Had marched over there and knocked on the door...well you get the idea.

He just couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t leave her alone. Could almost still feel her clinging to his costume and trembling. Had to save her.

His rescue mission wasn’t going too well. Currently vastly out numbered and in over his head. But causing the masked Yakuza a fair amount of trouble, at least. He may just be able to pull this off after all.

The large one lifts him up by the back of the shirt, easily with one hand. When the other hand reaches for him, though, an arrow is stabbed through it. Izuku’s own sedative should set in soon. It also serves as a momentary distraction, allowing the student to worm himself free and land to the ground with a clatter.

He gets up, hastily, stringing another arrow and pointing it at the man with the gun housing the strange (apparently useless) bullets. 

At a stalemate, they stare at each other for a moment. Fingers on triggers. Izuku’s chest heaving with the exertion of the fight so far. The big one falters, Izuku can see it out of his periphery. The world seems to slow.

Emotional Starters  ||  @coldbloodedfeud​

From anyone else, nearly, the question may have been taken as a genuine one. Maybe not one that made any sense, or was appropriate to their cold-hearted lives, but as something that required… a real response. Whether absent lies or abruptly depressive cynicism, would have been the answer, well, that varied from person to person. As it were, under these circumstances…

   ❝ Enough to know that you asking me that, can’t possibly be a good sign for the rest of the evening. ❞   The usual, uncaring drawl cracked slightly, uncertainty coloring the words despite his better attempts at remaining apathetic. Tension crept into chronically sore muscles, pale fingers curling nervously before shifting to aimlessly tug at a loose thread on his jacket.

No matter where this was going, it couldn’t honestly be anywhere good, right? A slight pause, a breath, and then turquoise eyes flickered to refocus on the other.

            ❝ …What exactly do you want? ❞

Late Munday / accepting 

ღ : What sorts of plots/characters/scenes do you have the most difficulty writing, and why?

Munday meme!

I love peanut m&ms and Hershey's cookies and cream bars!! They're the best 😭