#erasermight

don't think about the sick satisfaction Aizawa feels about it, how a man with such an amazing quirk is practically quirkless now. Oh how the mighty have fallen, and Aizawa can't help but feel like this is karma for every time a hero ridiculed him, or any other kid with an undesirable quirk

definitely don't think about Aizawa railing Small Might in the teachers' lounge after classes have been over for hours, grinning wildly as he calls Small Might pathetic and

"You're too weak to push me off. Unless... oh, you wanted this, didn't you, Toshinori?"

because Aizawa will no longer give him the grace of using "All Might" for such a frail man

-🦴

🤤🤤🤤🤤

3. Toshinori's strange night keeps getting stranger.

Spread on the low table between them was a smattering of picture cards. At first glance Toshinori had taken them for hanafuda, but they were too big. The images looked old—European, he thought. “Are those those western fortune-telling cards? I forget what you call them.” “Tarot cards,” said Mic. “For divination.” “Right,” Toshinori nodded, wanting to be respectful. But Mic laughed. “You want to ask me what the difference is,” he grinned. “Don’t you?” He smiled sheepishly back. “Maybe.” “Honestly?” Mic swept the few loose cards up into the deck and shuffled aimlessly. “I don’t even know. It was what Kayama always said. They’re her cards. They were.” Toshinori nodded, hoping he’d made his face suitably solemn. Frankly, he was a little relieved that this wasn’t some other wild thing about Mic he’d never known. “I don’t think they’re so much about the future,” Mic went on. “More, like, making sense of right now.” Suddenly he stopped shuffling. “Hey. Want me to do a reading for you?” He said it with another half a laugh and a rakish sort of smile, like they both knew what he was proposing was outlandish. “Well.” Toshinori could feel himself mirroring a similar expression, adopting the same cavalier attitude. “As long as we’re leaving my future out of it. I could do with right now making a little more sense, I guess.” “Right on,” said Mic, handing him the deck. “You’re supposed to shuffle them yourself, if it’s your reading. Infuse the cards with your energy or whatever. I think that’s how she explained it.” Toshinori obeyed. The cards were large and slippery and a little stiff; they didn’t shuffle easily. “Did she believe in this stuff? That it was real?” “Shouta asked her that once. She said it was the way we thought about it, that made it real or not real.” He raised his eyebrows. “I bet I know what Shouta said to that.” He was pretty sure it was the first time he’d spoken the name all by itself.   Mic laughed shortly. “I bet you do.” That odd sensation, the pleasure of insider gossip, was back. “So, uh, how does the next part work?” Toshinori asked. “How many do I pick?” “No rules, man. I mostly do three, just because more feels like too many, and less doesn’t feel like enough.” Mic shrugged, self-deprecating. “I’m not really the guy for this. Kayama knew what she was up to. I just screw around.” For his part, Toshinori found it hard to imagine agreeing to try this with Midnight, no matter how much she might have cajoled him. “If that’s all we’re doing,” he smiled, drawing his three cards, “I don’t feel so silly about it.”

Erasermight my beloved.

Link under here to my newest fic

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