#eclipsemuses

"Oh, dear."

Protests build up in his throat, caught before they can slip between his teeth. He wants to argue back but it’s a moot point, isn’t it? Their opinions on this ‘gift’ were far too different. All For One may call it pride or virtue but Toshinori would never see it as anything other than the humanity that he would be losing and no matter the damage already done to himself, this he would hold onto for as long as he could.

He wants to say it isn’t the same but bites his tongue, if he couldn’t see by his own example just what was wrong with it then no amount of trying to explain that would work. ‘Us’ he keeps saying like Toshinori will ever be in this with him. There was a lot that Toshinori could endure. He could toss aside himself for just about anyone else but this he couldn’t see as a life to be proud of. He wasn’t invested in All For One like he was in Toshinori.

Briefly Toshinori thinks about leaving again. He knows now just how long he can go and he’d sooner starve or take drastic measures against himself than pose a risk to anyone. The residual shame and the unwillingness to harm another, he could use that as a grounding point, right? He refuses to be stuck swinging between a life in hatred together or worrying of the risk he poses. Pain jabs at his temple, emotionally exhausted by all of it. These uncertainties fester but sooner or later he would have to take that leap. One thing was for certain however, eternity or not, All For One picked the wrong person to force this gift upon.

Toshinori keeps quiet, waits until All For One is done and gone. Waits until he can hear the click of the door before he kneels to pick up the broken shards, not caring if All For One could or couldn’t hear the soft sharp clinks or scraping of porcelain as they shifted in his palm. The blood he couldn’t do much about but he could at least do this.

Angel has the popularity poll hanging on his wall like it's an award or a diploma or smth

Shouta would have much rather stayed in bed than trudged after two classes alongside Vlad, forced to remain on grounds to keep an eye on the scattered masses flitting around to one room or another. It's exactly the kind of event he hates. Far too many people in an enclosed space regardless of the massive ceilings that took into account height differences or those who could fly without risking damage. A few lesser known faces are even familiar, fellow undergrounds who blend right in with clamoring civilians. He's here as a teacher not a hero though no one even looks twice at him which he appreciates. It was already a hassle with enough attendees knowing him by any name.

"There's supposed to be food stalls on the first floor." Blessedly the elevator isn't crowded as he holds the door for Vlad. Maybe they could find a quiet corner to eat and he could cite a migraine to go back to the hotel. Shouta hits the button and rolls his shoulders, wiggling one until it cracks back into place. "The-" car stops humming, jolting to a stop in so little time they can only be in between floors. "You've got to be fucking with me."

Dark eyes immediately narrow in suspicion at those around them. The lights remain on which rule out a power outage though he actually wishes that's what it was. Elevators were to return to the ground floor and open doors under a backup generator in that case. Which makes it either a malfunction or something more insidious that he really doesn't want to consider. Though it probably won't do anything, he jabs button again alongside the larger emergency red one.

SINCE  THE  LEAGUE  HAD  COME  TO  FRUITION  -  AND  THEN  the  liberation  front  alongside  it  -  what  had  once  been  potential  daggers  in  the  night  turned  turned  into  the  occasional  coffee  (  not  poisoned  ),  divided  paperwork  and  planning,  and  shifts  spent  ruminating  over  sensei's  accords  and  how  they  might  better  apply  his  teachings  to  the  army  that  sprawled  before  them.  it  had  taken  awhile,  but  tomura  was  used  enough  now  to  this  new  normal  to  count  keigo  as  more  of  a  duo  partner  -  rather  than  a  midlane  feeder  intent  on  ruining  everything  just  so  he  could  have  the  highest  k/d/a  on  the  leaderboard  for  the  season.

the  villain  had  grunted  at  the  words,  pressing  the  heel  of  one  mangled  hand  to  his  eye  socket,  rubbing  lightly  in  an  effort  to  produce  some  sort  of  intent  to  focus.  words  and  maps  had  spun  before  him,  information  having  long  since  lost  much  of  it's  meaning  -  but  shigaraki  was  a  stubborn  bastard,  and  he  was  certainly  a  leader  now  for  a  reason.  did  he  really  even  need  sleep?  there  was  a  society  to  dismantle.  a  playing  field  to  even.  besides,  he's  pretty  sure  he  had  to  go  find  new  sheets  anyway,  as  the  last  time  he'd  slept  he'd  forgotten  to  slip  on  his  finger  sleeves,  and  in  the  throes  of  gripping  his  sheets  well-

waking  up  in  rotted  inorganic  matter  under  and  around  him  was  not  a  pleasant  experience.

when  vulture  had  mentioned  how  tired  he  looked  (  and,  unfortunately,  hadn't  died  on  the  spot  from  the  glare  shigaraki  shot  him  ),  villain  had  explained  his  situation  -  but  instead  of  getting  laughed  at,  tomura  was  here,  staring  at  the  strangely  comfortable  looking  pile  of  blankets  and  pillows  and  clothing  and  other  soft,  snuggly  objects.  ruby  eyes  blink  almost  owlishly,  staring  betwixt  his  messy  bangs  at  the  offering  before  peering  down  at  his  feathered...  whatever.

@eclipsemuses ♥'d (you get a deadpool)!

What is up with spider-people and god damn tall buildings? Wade huffs out a labored breath as he finally lugs himself up the final rung of the fire escape ladder. Shimming up onto the ledge and then planting himself onto the concrete of the roof. (Looks like Built-up Roofing (BUR for short) to me!) Wade pushes the box out of his vision with a hand, reaching into one of their pouches to pull out a pocket mirror.

Gotta make sure he looks good! And, as always, she does! Not a fleck of dried blood on his beautiful mask. He snaps it shut like he's just broken up with their boyfriend over the phone back in high school after prom and stuffs it back into its place. (We didn't go to prom. Yes we did! Nuh uh, we went smoking with the guys outside a Denny's. Oh, I think I remember something like that.)

He approaches his spandex clad companion with a skip and slides up next to him on the ledge, leaning in close. Placing an arm on his shoulder as she tries to follow whatever his line of sight was behind those big buggy eyes. "Brooding up here all by yourself, handsome? Any crimes that need heroing?"