#thyandra writes

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Zhao Yuanzhou slides the door of Li Lun’s chambers open without knocking or announcing his presence, Zhuo Yichen's words still fresh in his mind. It wasn’t a warning, per se—Zhuo Yichen would rather shatter his sword to pieces again than meddle into other people’s business umprompted—but Zhao Yuanzhou still felt the gravitas of his piercing blue stare. 

Your boat found shore, but his is still drifting. Don’t be so cruel to deny him harbor once he finds land.

The young yao means well, Zhao Yuanzhou knows that. But the cutting edge of that advice had found its mark with all the deftness and brusque integrity of a soldier who values kindness but does not coddle. 

Cruel. 

He supposes he has been. Still is. 

It’s a sober reminder of the constraints he cannot escape. He might not be a Vessel of the worlds’ ugliest feelings anymore, but his body remembers. Like a mask cultivating itself to sentience, he’d worn his viciousness like a shield for long enough it became skin. Back then, it had been his only weapon against Fate—the only way he could still make reparations for what he’d broken. He’d make himself bear the world’s scorn and die a willing death to its righteous blade. Only then, would he sate his guilt, ridding the world of its most vicious curse, and repaying his debt to karma at once. 

Or would he?

Isn’t that just your excuse, a voice that sounds just like Zhuo Yichen’s tells him.  

Disappointing his misplaced faith in him is a common endeavor for him—one that he usually partakes in with delight—but this time it leaves an odd taste in his mouth and an even weirder feeling in his chest. 

Here’s the thing. He doesn’t want to be cruel anymore.

As much as Zhuo Yichen wishes for him to face his past with his head held up straight, though, Zhao Yuanzhou can’t shrug off his past like rained-on, sodden overclothes; his relationship with Li Lun is fraught with mistakes and far beyond an easy fix. He’s not convinced Li Lun would take kindly to a reconciliation. 

As if to prove his unwillingness to match his effort, Zhao Yuanzhou enters the chamber to find Li Lun sitting at his boudoir, his back resolutely to the door. His gaze doesn't lift at Zhao Yuanzhou’s entrance; he must've sensed his approach. 

tho it's no longer a Sunday for me either lol

I was tagged by @sleepytimegrrl. Thank you for the mention! I don't mind tags on creative tag memes, but I have to preface this by saying that I haven't felt much motivation to write in several years now, and all the "wips" I had were dropped halfway through at some point. But I still wanted to take part in this, so have a snippet from one of those abandoned wips (the post-canon zyz/ll/zyc one, if anyone remembers that!) cause I do like this part even tho I'll likely never muster the will to continue it

Fandom: boku no hero academia Pairing: DabiHawks / HotWings Chapter Summary: Dabi is stuck at the hospital with Hawks, and they dish out a few harsh truths at each other. Then Shouto appears and makes it all worse.

Read on ao3 now | Buy me a ko-fi

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In Dabi’s mind’s eye, his moment of triumph played out a lot differently than this. It involved blue fire coming to get his defenseless father, giving him a taste of his own medicine, and the press recording a live confession. It ended with a gravestone with his father’s name on it. It was a well-rehearsed script. 

In Dabi’s mind’s eye, his moment of triumph didn’t involve Hawks staring at him from the other side of the checkerboard. 

It was Dabi’s first day at the hospital and he already hated being stuck there. Hawks had made himself comfortable, sitting backwards on a chair. His elbows were leaning on the backrest, the picture of easy nonchalance. His posture didn’t quite match the expression on his face, though. His eyes never moved from Dabi, but his gaze was unfocused and distant, like his mind was elsewhere. After the first attempt at talking to him, at getting an explanation out of Dabi, Hawks had just given up an retreated into his own thoughts.

It pissed Dabi the fuck off. 

He didn't know if Hawks had personally requested to be assigned to Dabi's guard team, but he wouldn't rule it out. It wouldn't be the first time Hawks had pretended to be on his side, to give a shit about him, only to do a 180 turn when Dabi wasn't looking and choose his job over Dabi once again. 

It shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but a lot of things weren’t playing out as Dabi had expected. 

According to his plans, this moment should’ve been glorious. Instead, all he could feel was emptiness. It started like a tug in his gut, annoyingly persistent. This was the culmination of all of his efforts. He’d taken the one thing that mattered the most to his father. He’d done that, against all odds. And yet, the satisfaction had been short lived. 

The piece of shit was still breathing, still the number one. Just like a cockroach, he wouldn’t die that easily, infesting society like the parasite he was. 

Dabi didn’t know what frustrated him more: that his father had landed on his feet, or that Hawks had taken his side. 

It stung, but Dabi should’ve expected as much. He’d known the bird wasn’t ready to jump ship yet. Despite his dissatisfaction with the hero system, he was still a product of it. He was taught to self-sacrifice for the greater good, and like a fool, he gave himself willingly. No one would look at his bleeding heart and think he would make a good double agent. It was ironic, really, how he was willing to die for a system that didn’t care about him. Or it would have been, if Dabi had been kind enough to forgive him for it. Hawks had made his allegiances clear. For that alone, Dabi should’ve killed him. 

Hesitance is death, his father had drilled into his head when he was six, doubled over on the tatami mats. The first blow decides the match, and you must not allow yourself weakness. To be strong is to overpower the enemy first. 

His father had always known how to save his own ass. Dabi should’ve trusted that, if not anything else. 

Not killing Hawks when he’d had the chance had been an act of weakness, not one of mercy. He should’ve just cremated him like everyone else.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dabi/Takami Keigo | Hawks Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Takami Keigo | Hawks Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, werewolf!dabi (bnha), half-tengu!hawks (bnha), Body Horror, Past Domestic Violence, Past Child Abuse Summary:

Fandom: boku no hero academia 

Pairing: Dabi/hawks 

Summary: First meeting don’t always go smoothly. If pressed, Hawks would agree that the astronomy tower had been kinda cliche; even for them. The broomsticks and the nosebleed, though, were just overkill. But he'd panicked, okay? Panicking never led to smart thinking. Overall, it's not a great recipe for friendship, Hawks thinks. It's a good thing he's nothing if not persistent.

[Witten for the ctabb discord server minibang. I was lucky enough to be paired up with the amazing @kiwiliko, whose companion piece can be found here!]

ao3 link | Ko-fi

For Todofam month day 12. Prompt: “What if...?”

Warnings: implied manga spoilers up to chapter 235. Implied child abuse. 

[ko-fi]

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There’s a kid at the park that often plays alone with his corgi. Touya doesn’t see him often, but when he does, the kid always looks miserable. The rings under his eyes look so bad that Touya has been on the verge of approaching him just to ask more than once. 

Something always stops him though. Perhaps the sting of shame due to Touya’s own long sleeved shirt. 

It’s stupid, he thinks. It’s not like the kid will notice his burns or know that they are there. It’s not like the kid is going to care. 

But his feet don’t move, and that’s how Touya knows that his father is right about him. 

He’s not worthy of becoming a hero. He’s too fucking weak. 

Natsu pulls at his sleeve and points. Touya looks. 

The corgi isn’t here today, but the kid has company. 

“They’re playing heroes,” Natsu says in a tone Touya can’t place. His focus shifts entirely to his little bro, brow furrowing. 

Usually, Touya comes here on his own when he needs a little breather. Under normal circumstances, Touya wouldn’t bring Natsu with him, unwilling to get him in trouble, but he can tell that Natsu is worried about little Shouto. That’s why they sneaked out of the house when father was busy at work. Between Fuyumi’s pleas not to go and mom’s worries that they’re gonna be found out, Touya promised to keep their escapade brief. Just what little time Natsu needed to get his mind off things he’s too young to be thinking about. 

Shouto is just a 5 month old baby. Touya knows their father won’t hurt him just yet. It’s a shitty consolation prize, though. Their old man’s limited patience is already running thin with each new day. 

Touya can see that bringing Natsu here was a mistake, now. 

“Not all heroes are bad, I think,” Touya says. Natsu turns to look at him. “If bad ones exist, then good ones gotta exist as well, right? To balance the shittiness of the rest.”

“That’s a bad word,” Natsu says, giggling. 

Touya watches him seriously. “Then don’t repeat it in front of his shitty face.” Silence falls between the two of them for a second. Then Touya’s composure cracks and he grins. Natsu mirrors the look one moment later. 

“Can I say it when he’s not around?”

Touya winks at him. “When who’s not around?”

Natsu hides his smile behind a fist. “The shitty old man.”

Touya grabs the ball and starts doing some warm up kick-ups. “Sure. Just check that Fuyumi or mom are not within earshot first though. Bad words are not befitting a lady’s ears.”

Natsuo grins, then proceeds to steal the ball from him and run around with it. Touya lets him do it. 

His gaze turns again to the kid with the eye rings, just as he shouts a cheerful call of “I am here!”

Sometimes, heroes don’t come to the rescue of those in need, Touya thinks. But it’s alright. As long as your loved ones have your back, everything will turn out okay. 

For Todofam month day 14. Forgiveness.

[read on Ao3]

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Rei has never had the courage to ask. 

Fuyumi’s eyes are kind as she folds a clean change of clothes and puts them in Rei’s closet. Her voice is warm as she tells Rei about her life; about how Natsuo chose Medical Welfare as his major; about how he’ll be leaving for college next week. 

Fuyumi’s lips are careful around Shouto’s name. 

Rei sees it, the hesitancy. If Rei was a pond, she’d be deceptively still. Her clear waters would reflect the sky in a perfect photograph. 

All it takes to destroy that stillness is a rock. Then the clear surface would break into ripples, never to reflect reality again. Rei’s been there before. She can feel that rock at the bottom of her deep waters, like a lifelong reminder of what she’s lost. But she’s no longer a pond. She’s a waterfall. There’s no longer stillness in her mind, only the constant low rumble of thoughts that chase each other until they free-fall into the nothingness of her daily routine. They buzz with a constant mantra of shame, shame, shame. 

It’s what prevents her from asking how Shouto is doing. It’s what makes Fuyumi walk on eggshells around her, perceptive enough to understand that something’s wrong, but not enough to catch Rei’s train of thoughts. 

Shame curls deeper in Rei’s guts when she realizes she’s a stranger to her own children. Her beloved children, who’ve always been the driving force of her life. How could Rei have messed up so bad? The love of a mother should be absolute. And here she is, wishing for atonement, but too scared to ask for forgiveness. 

At last, Fuyumi leaves with a kiss on Rei’s forehead. It feels like an apology. 

It shouldn’t. 

Rei drags an old photograph to her face with trembling hands. It’s frayed at the edges, and she does her best not to stain it with tears, as she kisses the smiling faces of her four children. 

///

She’s holding that same photograph again, a year and a half later. Sun streams through her window in a promise of hope for a brighter future. She’s not sure she can believe it. 

Then her door slides open, and Rei turns. 

Mismatched eyes look back at her, and Rei’s breath hitches. He’s grown so tall. 

He’s grown so kind, she thinks, when she notices the subtle tremble in his hands. 

He’s scared. 

Shouto closes the door behind him. 

He’s scared of me. 

It’s not until they talk, they properly talk for the first time in years, that Rei sees it. There’s a low rumble in the still water of his left eye, the one she poured scalding water onto. This time, when she cries, she doesn’t need to hold a photograph close.

Forgiveness cannot be asked for; it has to be given, Dr. Yamashita had told her once during one of her sessions. She’d never quite understood that before. She’d thought he was speaking of forgiving herself. She thinks she understands it now. 

Maybe, Shouto was a waterfall all this time, too. 

Fandom: boku no hero academia Pairing: DabiHawks / HotWings Chapter Summary: Hawks is left to pick up the pieces of Dabi’s destruction

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The world stopped moving for a second; or maybe it had just stopped spinning. Hawks couldn’t tell. His heart was in his mouth and he felt like a train had hit him full speed. 

He blinked heavily. The sight before his eyes didn’t change. The figure on the ground was still unmoving. Panic gripped at his heart, making the disorientation and dizziness worse. 

Hawks had to do something. 

He tried to get up, forgetting for a second that he was still stuck in the noumu’s web. His head was killing him. It took him longer than it should’ve to realize he could harden a feather and direct it at the sticky mess to cut through it. When the thought formed in his head, he concentrated to do just that, only to make his headache worse. Cursing under his breath, he waited a second for his vision to become less blurry. 

All around him were the sounds of a battle. Even if Hawks couldn’t muster the strength to look up again, he knew that pro heroes must’ve arrived on site. 

Feeling desperation and grief alike clawing at his heart, Hawks made a grab for the sharpened feather with his hand. His movements were clumsy and slow, so he knew he wouldn’t be much use in a fight, but he just needed to get on his feet. He had to do something, anything!

Vine-like tendrils appeared out of nowhere and helped him get rid of the cobwebs. A sigh of relief tore through him at the sight, followed by more confusion. He stared at them uncomprehendingly for a beat, until a face full of wood swam in his vision. 

“Hawks, are you alright?” 

Was he? 

No, he didn’t think he was. “Mmno,” he answered truthfully, slightly slurred. “Head’s all woozy.”

The person nodded and gave him a once-over. 

Hawks thought it looked vaguely familiar. He would’ve remembered a tree person though. “You look funny,” he said, and it must’ve been something weird to say because the person’s brows scrunched up in confusion. Then their eyes widened a little. 

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” they said in a soothing tone. “Please listen carefully and try your best to answer them.”

“Mm’kay.”

“Do you know who you are?”

Hawks blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“What’s your given name?”

“Takahiro.” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

“What about my hero name? Do you recognize me?” 

Hawks furrowed his brows. That was harder to answer. When he remained silent, the person went on, with more urgency now: “It’s okay if you don’t remember. Do you know where we are?”

Hawks had to think of that for a moment. He came up blank. What he knew was that he was needed here. The details were fuzzy, laced with panic and disorientation. “No,” he admitted, distress seeping into his voice. Hadn’t he wanted to get up until a moment before? To do what? Thoughts slipped his mind like water through spread fingers. There was someone he was meant to help.

He frantically tried to remember, and memories of aquamarine eyes flooded his thoughts. Hawks looked around to get his bearings, but it didn’t help. Patches of blue fire had enveloped most of the room, and two figures were fighting. They moved far too fast for Hawks’ fogged up brain to follow. 

The memory of eyes brimming with frustrated tears became more pressing. Suffocating. Hawks bit back on a curse, gaze darting around like a spooked animal, trying to make sense of a room full of smoking debris and an headache that was splitting his head in two.