#anyway im doing another rendered piece but im gonna be leaving in a couple of hours to watch everything everywhere all at once with my dad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karliahs · 4 years

Note

for prompts um.. aizawa learning about ofa but in like a painful way? in a 'im telling you this because i have no choice/we're gonna die anyway so what does it matter' way? maybe? i also just want... people realizing that deku had a Hard Time and because of that its hard for him to really be like. thoroughly happy. he's so passively suicidal it hurts lol!

content warning for descriptions of serious injuries

Shouta is aware of how fast things can turn bad. USJ had gone from a training exercise to a desperate struggle to preserve 20 lives in a matter of seconds.

So, he isn’t exactly surprised when he wakes from unconsciousness chained to a wall, still-blurred vision scanning the room - some kind of basement, two masked men, Midoriya chained up on the same wall. That suggests a lack of knowledge, that maybe they’d expected Shouta to be alone and grabbed the kid as a bonus, because chains aren’t exactly-

As if he’s brought it into being with the thought, power crackles along his student’s arms and the chains holding Midoriya break with an oddly-muted crack. Midoriya jumps to his feet, spinning the momentum straight into a kick that launches one of the men across the room. The other, instead of backing away from the 16-year-old explosion of power they’ve clearly vastly underestimated, steps in closer, and Shouta activates erasure with a lurch of panic in his gut.

Then, everything goes oddly still. Midoriya and the captor still on his feet just stand there, at an angle where Shouta can’t see what’s happened to make them stop. The man takes one step back, and still Midoriya just stands there, suspended, angled too far away for Shouta to be able to see his expression.

What he can see is the man in the corner starting to recover from the blow, dragging himself up - then stopping with pure panic in his eyes when he sees Midoriya. He bolts for the stairs, the other man backs up another step, and finally Shouta can see the knife embedded in his student’s abdomen.

When things go bad, it happens fast. So fast it feels like time is slipping away, like he’s moving in slow motion compared to the rest of the world. Both men are bolting now, clearly in over their heads, leaving Shouta still chained up with a kid with a stab wound.

“Leave the keys!” Shouta yells after them, venom mixing with pure panic. “Call for help!”

He activates erasure even though neither of them seem to be using quirks to escape, just trying to have any impact at all, take something away from them. If this is remorse, it’s worse than useless. Corrupt enough that cut holes in one of his kids, cowardly enough to run without letting them out first.

Midoriya turns to face him, eyes wide. “Midoriya,” Shouta says, pieces clicking into place in his mind - his primary obstacle is a set of chains, and his only asset is a student who’s just proved he can break them without an issue. If only he weren’t hurt, bleeding and confused. “It’s going to be okay. You just have to-no, don’t.” Shouta interrupts himself as he sees one of Midoriya’s hands hover in the air by the knife. “Don’t take it out. It’s slowing the bleeding.”

Midoriya obeys all too easily, face unmarred by pain - just blank shock, and a hint of helplessness that looks strange on a student who so rarely asks for help with anything.

“It’s going to be okay,” Shouta says again. “If you can break the chains, I can get you out of here and we can find help.”

“Okay,” Midoriya says, voice choked and young. He takes one step towards Shouta before collapsing, finally crying out as he goes, but thankfully the angle of his fall takes him close enough to Shouta.

“Alright,” Shouta says, trying to keep the anguish out of his voice. If time is going slowly for him, he can only imagine how it feels for Midoriya, drifting in that timeless haze of agony. He needs to be clear and calm. He wants to believe one of those terrified men called an ambulance, but he’s lived too long to have faith in that kind of mercy. Clear, calm and fast.

Shouta wraps his hands around Midoriya’s, moves them to the chains on the wall and tries to help him get a grip. “Just one push, okay?” Shouta says. “Then we’ll get out of here.”

Midoriya shuts his eyes, and for an awful moment Shouta thinks he’s losing him - then his quirk comes to life, haltingly, the bright patterns on his skin skipping and lurching as if afraid. Usually, Midoriya’s control is such that his quirk seems to become active through his whole body at once, but now the glow starts at his chest and spirals out erratically - then it reaches his abdomen and he yelps, the light blinking out, hands falling to press down around the knife.

“Alright, alright,” Shouta murmurs. There’s blood spreading through the kid’s T-shirt. He’s taking short, stuttering breaths.

“Sorry,” Midoriya mumbles.

“Stay with me, kid,” Shouta says, taking his hand again. The chains clink as he moves, and god, Shouta would give every second he has left just to break that metal. “Try again.”

Midoriya obediently, painstakingly calls on his quirk again and gives a hard shove at the place where the chains meet the wall, but that little bit of movement causes him to let out a breathless scream and fall back. Shouta has to reach out his chained arms just to keep him from collapsing all the way down onto his back. Instantly, his hands are warm and wet; there’s blood at Midoriya’s back, too.

This can’t be happening. His student can’t be about to die because of two inches of metal. This bright, wonderful person can’t be about to die in his arms.

“It- it hurts,” Midoriya murmurs, leaning on him. “I can- I can feel the knife moving.”

“I know, I know,” Shouta says. “But we need to get you help. It’s either you make it up the stairs-”

Midoriya gives a panicked groan, shaking his head frantically.

“Or you break the chains and I carry you out. You can do this. I promise you can do this.”

Midoriya nods, tears gathering in his eyes, but several panicked breaths later and he hasn’t moved.

“Take a breath,” Shouta insists, quiet but firm, “then try again. Try to concentrate your quirk just where you need it.”

“It’s…it’s called One For All,” Midoriya says, tipping back a little in Shouta’s clumsy hold. “All Might gave it to me.”

Time slips away again, or something like it. There’s blood on the shackles on Shouta’s wrists. They look at each other, and even through the pain Midoriya seems to be searching his face for something.

“I wanted to tell you,” he adds, then slips back a little further and yelps in pain. Shouta is holding him up as best he can, but it still takes abdominal muscles to hold yourself in that kind of position - and every contraction of those muscles risks jostling the blade. He can’t die like this. He just can’t.

“Midoriya, please,” Shouta says. He doesn’t think his voice holds steady. Shouta has seen victims of stab wounds before, has been the victim of stab wounds before, and so he can’t avoid the knowledge that these minutes of coherency are numbered. As sure as up is up and down is down, soon enough shock and blood loss will render Midoriya unable to listen to what he’s saying, let alone use his quirk. If he hasn’t broken the chains by then - and if neither of those monsters called for an ambulance… “Please, kid. There isn’t anything else I can do. It has to be you, and it has to be now.”

“S-sorry,” Midoriya says, shutting his eyes for another heartstopping moment. He opens them and there’s a shred of his old determination shining there. “Sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

He moves his hands and before Shouta can register what he’s going to do, he’s clutching the hilt of the knife and pulling it out, activating his quirk in the next second and shoving forward to punch at the root of the chains. Finally, finally, they break, and Shouta is gathering Midoriya up in his arms and trying to put pressure on the wound at the same time, sprinting for the stairs.

“You did it, you did it, I’ve got you,” Shouta mutters, barely taking in his own words, and as he reaches the top of the stairs he hears the distant sound of sirens.

...

Hours later, in the grey light and never-quite-quiet of the hospital Shouta has refused to leave, he sits side by side with a silent Yagi, letting Inko Midoriya have some privacy with her son even if the doctors don’t think he’ll be waking up any time soon.

Shouta has had a lot of time to think, and mostly hasn’t done so. He won’t really be able to think until he sees his student alive, moving, talking again.

What few thoughts he has managed are shards of memory. A student who works harder than anyone, but came into high school with hardly any control over his quirk, the foundation most aspiring heroes start from. And Yagi, hiding off to the side, watching over his class’s first training session. Like he had a personal stake.

Shouta doesn’t pry into students’ lives for the sake of it. He and Nedzu have disagreed a couple of times over the level of surveillance UA should aim for when it comes to students, especially now that the dorm system had been implemented. But he can’t help a kid he doesn’t understand. He can’t help Midoriya recover from anaesthesia any faster, but he can try and understand the missing piece connecting Midoriya to Yagi.

“So,” Shouta says, voice flat. “One For All.”

Yagi sits up straighter. “He told you?”

“He was scared,” Shouta says. He was dying, he doesn’t say, because he isn’t, he didn’t.

“It’s…his story to tell, now,” Yagi says, and there’s a discomfort there that almost makes Shouta smile.

“Sure,” he says. “Delay the inevitable.” Shouta shakes his head. “That kid’s braver than you.”

“I know,” Yagi says simply, and a quick scan of his expression shows Shouta that he isn’t joking.

Shouta thinks they’re done, but Yagi turns to face him, solemn and sincere. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for getting him out of there alive.”

Shouta gives a short nod. “He did it himself.”

Yagi smiles. “You should get used to being thanked. I’m sure young Midoriya will be very grateful when he wakes.”

“Delaying the inevitable,” Shouta murmurs, slumping back in his chair, letting his eyes fall shut trying not to see echoes of the night’s horrors reflected in the dark.

#bnha fic #dadzawa #aizawa #midoriya #feel like my ~brand~ makes this kinda obvious but there's no major character death here!!#just big angst #thank you for the prompt!!!#gonna keep the second part of your ask in mind too bc that's exactly my kind of shit

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years

Text

harder than a bullet could hit you

fandom: roswell new mexico

whumpee: kyle valenti

uhh idk what this is really but im rewatching the series and im always gonna be upset that there’s zero aftermath of kyle getting shot!!! like just bc you have a vest does not mean ur magically okay (especially emotionally !) so yeah heres this, the title is from river by bishop briggs. (@deepwoundsandfadedscars i know this isnt the fic i said i would write but i thought id tag you, lmk if it sucks lol)

He wasn’t expecting to see Kyle Valenti here-at least, not sitting in a chair in the hospital reception area, staring blankly ahead, looking off in a way Alex thinks looks very odd on him.

“Hey, Valenti,” he says, walking to the front desk. He sighs. “I’m here for Jesse Manes? They said he was in some sort of coma.”

The woman behind the desk nods, gives him a room number, and pats his arm in a sorry-about-your-dad kind of way that would be nice if it were anyone else’s dad. He smiles tightly, and heads off to find the room.

He doesn’t realize until he’s standing in the doorway that Kyle hadn’t said hello back to him, which shouldn’t be a big deal...he’d give it more thought, maybe, but right now, here is Jesse fucking Manes, in a coma and for once rendered completely harmless. It’s what he deserves, Alex thinks. Better than what he deserves, really. But what had happened? His father was certainly not the type of person to slip quietly into a coma.

He leans against the doorframe, staring daggers at the unconscious form on the bed. His father had the nerve to come back from Niger (probably because of a certain incident which Alex would rather not think about at the moment) and then promptly fall into a coma before Alex could even threaten him with...something, anything to keep him away.

He stews in his thoughts for several minutes before someone taps his shoulder. He jumps slightly, spinning quickly around.

A nurse smiles apologetically at him. “Sorry about that,” he says. “Alex Manes, right?”

Alex nods. “Do you know what happened to him?” he asks, gesturing into his father’s room.

“Not exactly,” the nurse says. “Dr. Valenti brought him in maybe half an hour ago, said they were working on a project together and he just collapsed.”

Alex nods again, and thanks the nurse, who tells him that as soon as they know more, Alex will be the first to know. Alex doesn’t bother to tell him that he really couldn’t care less.

He makes his way back to the hospital reception, thinking less of his father and more of Kyle. Questions like, Why is he still here? and Did they get into a fight? swirl around in his head as he emerges back into the room.

Kyle is still there, still staring off into nothing, a blank look on his face. Hesitantly, Alex approaches him. “Hey,” he says, tapping Kyle lightly on the shoulder. “You good? I heard you brought my father in.”

Kyle doesn’t say anything, just takes a sharp breath in, then winces. Alex frowns. “Kyle,” he says, more insistently. “Did something happen?”

And Kyle runs. Shoots up from his chair and bolts out the hospital doors. Alex stumbles backward in surprise, staring ahead out the doors for a second in disbelief. Something is wrong, he thinks, and he’s just about to follow Kyle outside when there’s yet another tap on his shoulder.

He whirls around. “What,” he says, sounding more irritated than he had intended to.

It’s the same nurse from before, who gives him that same apologetic grin. “Sorry again,” he says. “I just thought I’d let you know we’re going to be moving your dad to a new room tonight, if you want to come and visit him again.”

“Yeah,” Alex says distractedly, craning his neck to see if he can spot Kyle somewhere outside. He accepts the card the nurse gives him with his father’s new room number on it and says a terse goodbye. He doubts he’ll be doing much visiting.

Alex heads outside, hoping to catch Kyle, if he’s still here. Something is most definitely wrong with him, and considering everything they’ve been involved in lately, he’s sure it’s going to end up involving him too, at some point. Better to learn about it now than later, he reasons. Plus, he can’t shake the feeling that this has something to do with his father, which is never a good feeling to have.

He’s in luck-he’s no sooner left the hospital reception area than he sees Kyle-or rather, the back of Kyle. He’s hunched over a trash can, clearly having just been sick, and Alex sees his hands shaking where they grip the edges of the can. He stands there for a second, unsure of what to do.

Kyle abruptly pushes himself away from the trash can, walking backwards until his back presses against a pillar. He sinks to the ground and runs a hand down his face. Alex clears his throat, and finally, Kyle looks at him.

“Hi,” he says, his voice scratchy. He lets out a shuddery exhale, and Alex, without particularly thinking, sinks down slowly next to him.

This close, he can feel that Kyle is shaking, and it scares him a little. Kyle is steady and strong, and this is extremely unlike him. He tries his question again-“what’s wrong?”-but Kyle just shakes his head.

Alex sighs, unsure of what to do. He can’t just leave Kyle here-he’s in no condition to drive, and he doesn’t seem like he has any intention of moving, anyway. But can Alex just...make him leave? They aren’t that close, not yet, not anymore...but Kyle is, if not a friend exactly, then an ally, and you don’t leave an ally behind. Especially if he may be in some serious trouble. (With Jesse Manes involved, it’s always serious trouble).

Alex stands up, pushing against the pillar for balance. Once he’s on his feet, he extends a hand to Kyle, who looks at it, then at him, blankly.

“Come on,” Alex says. “I won’t ask what happened,” not right now, anyway, he thinks, “but you can’t just stay here and I’m not gonna let you drive like this.”

Kyle nods, finally, takes a deep breath which he aborts halfway through, and takes Alex’s hand.

They drive in silence for a while, Alex absentmindedly tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel, fighting the urge to turn the radio on, so there’s at least something. Beside him, Kyle is uncharacteristically quiet, hands in his lap, staring out the window like he wants to melt the buildings of Roswell with his brain.

It’s weird.

And then, as Alex makes the turn onto the road that leads to the cabin, Kyle...well, he doesn’t say anything, but he makes a noise, anyway, one which sounds panicked and afraid.

Alex glances over at his passenger, who is now trying frantically to remove his shirt, but his hands are shaking too much to undo the buttons. He reaches a hand out, moving Kyle’s hands away from his shirt.

“You’re fine,” he says, keeping his voice quiet and calm. “It’s okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know what’s got Kyle like this, but he’s growing more and more sure that it has something to do with Jesse Manes.

His vague words of reassurance do the job, mercifully, and Kyle’s hands return to his lap. Alex can practically feel the stress rolling off of him, and he hates it, without really knowing why. He drives a little faster.

Eventually, they make it to Alex’s cabin. Kyle practically falls out of the car, and Alex has to nearly drag him up to the door. Once they get inside, Alex shrugs out of his jacket and hangs up his keys, directing Kyle to sit on the couch but giving him a second to get comfortable. He grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen and returns to the living room, where Kyle is once again trying-and failing-to remove his shirt.

Alex sets down the glasses on the table and sits next to Kyle on the couch. “You need some help there?” he asks, trying to keep the mood light.

Kyle looks at him, his expression pleading and anything but light. “Alex, please, I can’t…” He fumbles with a button, cursing as his hands refuse to steady enough to keep a hold on it.

“Yeah, I got it,” Alex says gently, unbuttoning Kyle’s shirt. He stops when he feels a familiar material underneath.

“What...Kyle, this is a bulletproof vest…” he stops talking for a minute as the pieces rapidly connect in his mind. “He shot you,” he says finally, hating the fact that he believes this so easily. Shooting civilians...not like this would be the first time his father’s hurt someone he cares about. He shakes himself out of that line of thinking in time to hear Kyle’s whispered, “yeah, he shot me...I was gonna buy a gun, Alex, but I-I couldn’t, I-”

He’s on the verge of hyperventilating, Alex notices. He hesitantly reaches out a hand, places it across the stiff fabric of the vest. “It’s okay, Kyle,” he says, taking a deep breath in the hopes that the doctor will copy it. “Just breathe, okay?”

Kyle takes a breath, wincing. “It hurts,” he mutters. “Like...like someone hit me with a baseball bat. Or, like, a truck.”

Alex nods sympathetically, reaching to undo the straps of the vest. “That pain will most likely be the worst of it. People don’t usually break ribs or anything, not with this kind of vest, and my father’s kind of gun. You’ll probably have a nice bruise for a couple weeks, though.”

Kyle gives him a shaky smile as Alex slides the vest off. “Now who’s the doctor?” he jokes, and Alex half smiles back, glad that Kyle seems to be doing a little better. His smile turns to a grimace as he observes the damage his father has inflicted. Kyle looks down at himself, at the dark bruise forming over his heart.

“I would have died,” he whispers, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe it.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. There’s no point in sugarcoating it-he is fully aware of what his father is capable of, and he’s sorry that Kyle had to learn those capabilities like this, but it’s the truth.

Kyle nods slowly, then looks around. “I can go,” he says at last, not sounding particularly attached to the idea.

Not that Alex would let him, not like this. He tells him as much: “Kyle, there is no way I am going to let you leave when you’ve just been shot, and by my father, no less.”

A thought occurs to him then, and it scares him with how much he hopes it’s not true-maybe Kyle does want to leave, because Jesse Manes shot him, Alex’s father shot him, and-

“You’re sure I won’t be a bother?” Kyle asks, jolting Alex out of that particular line of thinking. He looks so genuinely unsure, like he doesn’t believe Alex wants him to stay, needs him to stay-he needs some kind of stability right now, honestly, and while he never would’ve thought that would come in the form of Kyle Valenti, he’s not going to complain.

“Of course you won’t, Kyle,” and then, because he has to be sure, “as long as you’re okay staying with the son of your would-be murderer.”

“Hey,” Kyle says, his voice stronger than it had been a second before. “Don’t say that-I mean, you can say the part about him almost murdering me, but it’s not like you chose to be his son. You didn’t make him shoot me. Nothing he does is your fault.” He smiles again, like that will negate the seriousness in his voice. There’s something like fondness on his face, and his hands have stopped shaking, Alex realizes. He doesn’t really know what to do with that, so he simply says, “yeah.” It feels nice to hear that, he manages to admit to himself. He gives Kyle a genuine smile and moves to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asks, reaching out a hand to stop him.

“I’m gonna grab you some painkillers, maybe get a snack. You want anything?”

Kyle shakes his head, and Alex heads off to gather his items, listening to the sounds of the long-awaited storm rolling in. All the more reason to keep Kyle here, he thinks.

He heads back to the living room, passing Kyle a bottle of ibuprofen and a hot mug of tea. He watches as Kyle takes the medicine (more pills than Alex would usually take, but Kyle’s a doctor, so Alex trusts that he knows what he’s doing) and wraps his hands around the steaming mug. He shivers a little, and Alex, without thinking, tugs a blanket off the back of the couch and carefully drapes it around Kyle’s shoulders.

Kyle startles a little at the contact before relaxing into the warmth of the blanket with a light sigh. He stares into his mug of tea pensively for a few moments before he says, “thanks, Alex. For all of this.”

Alex nods, shifting to prop his legs up on the table. “Thanks for stopping my father.”

Kyle shifts uncomfortably. “He’s gonna wake up eventually,” he says. “I didn’t really think about that, I didn’t think-”

“Stop,” Alex cuts him off gently with a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, he’s out of the picture, and that’s good enough.”

“Okay,” Kyle agrees, leaning back against the couch. He looks exhausted, and rightfully so. Alex reaches for the remote, turning on the TV, as outside the first drops of rain begin to fall.

“What’re we watching?” Kyle asks, setting down his relatively-untouched mug of tea and curling deeper into the blanket.

“Star Wars, Episode Four,” Alex says, grabbing a second blanket from under the table to drape across his legs.

“Four? What about the first three?” Kyle asks, sounding legitimately concerned.

“It’s not like that,” Alex replies with a laugh. “This is the first one.”

“What-”

“Shh! It’s starting.”

Kyle raises his right hand in mock surrender. A deep rumble of thunder booms overhead, and he unconsciously leans into Alex, who scoffs slightly but allows it, carefully shifting himself to avoid jostling Kyle’s injury. It’s not quiet, not with the storm raging overhead, but it is peaceful. In the morning, it will not be. In the morning, the damage from tonight’s storm will become apparent, and they will have to begin repairing it, as best as they can. But for now, for just a moment, all is well.

yeah so here was this brought about by my rewatch,,,,it may suck idk but i simply Had To Write It yknow?

#roswell new mexico #kyle valenti #shot #emotional whump #i guess #my writing #i say things #look i love kyle and i hate that they never followed this up so here is this #actually the second time i have written the aftermath of that scene and ill probably do it again!!#also this is My Canon and i choose the timeline #anyway kee i know this isnt the fic i promised but i Will write that one very soon #idk if this sucks or not please lmk lol #Also!! i wrote this intending it to be platonic...but im pretty sure ive come up with something thats like pre-romantic so...oops

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