dontstopbelievin123

Midnight was raving about a ‘friend’ who ran yoga classes with a lean towards mediation and Quirk control. Her studio was located in central Musutafu, but she was more than happy to bring her services to U.A.. “Not now...” Aizawa grumbled, swatting Midnight away from his desk. He studied his homeroom’s seating chart as if it was game of shogi. Aoyama would want to remain in the No. 1 spot, where he claimed to have the best view and everyone had the best view of him. Hagakure had to stay at the front for Aizawa to see her if she raised her arm. (Not that his eyesight was an issue.)  Jiro seemed content sitting behind Shoji, the latter’s height notwithstanding.   Partners in crime, Ashido and Kaminari were constantly conspiring through whispers and trying to copy off each other. Aizawa was reluctant to move them though, because they got along so well with their neighbours. Tsuyu was a positive influence over Ashido. Jiro kept Kaminari in check.  Sero was a stable addition to the

‘From: Born-of-Azarath  Subject: Midoriya Izuku  Dear Mr Aizawa  I regret to disturb you at this urgent time with the media frenzy and the thousands of other messages you have surely received. But now that the captives are safe and the League of Villains’ leader is in custody, I hope you will forgive me.  To begin, I will emphasise that this is not a critique of your response during the training camp incident. Your words at the press conference reaffirmed what I already knew. Out of fear for our lives, you told us to fight. (I can’t fault you for that, as I myself was overcome with terror.)  Thanks to you and the other heroes, all of us are alive. No amount of preparation would have completely spared us from such a large scale attack.  You took full responsibility for Bakugo’s mistreatment, but I don’t blame you for his kidnapping. You are partly to blame, however, for the futility and the guilt Izuku Midoriya feels.  During our Quirk Apprehension Test, you looked Midoriya in the eye

“Are you sure you can handle dorm duty?” “Yep.” No, according to Recovery Girl. His bandages had been removed but he still needed plenty of bed rest. Barring unconsciousness, he’d barely slept a wink since the USJ attack and the chaos with Hero Killer: Stain. If he was going to worry, he might as well put that worry to good use by watching over the dorms. Any intruders would face the wrath of an insomniac ninja. Hizashi had doubts. “How’s your Erasure...?” The headaches and the eye pain hadn’t improved. “I erased my entire class’s Quirks the other day.” …For approximately three seconds. That was all the time he needed to take out a villain. “I could help you babysit the kids,” Hizashi volunteered. He tapped the speaker on his neck. “One blast out of this will send them straight to bed!” Aizawa envisioned the war that would ensue: Bakugo setting the building on fire, Kaminari short-circuiting the electrics, Mineta sneaking into Ashido and Yaoyorozus’ rooms (The grape rat had kept his

Aizawa was met with cries of shock, relief and doubt as he hobbled into homeroom, having escaped from hospital that morning. There was no mention of his scuffle with the villains. No exclamations of adoration. Kaminari called him a Pro— that was fact. He was just a Pro-Hero and a teacher doing his job by protecting his students. Thirteen and All Might had done the same. Anyone at U.A. would do the same. Class 1-A didn’t admire him any more than they had before, despite what Hizashi might think. Proof: The fuss over his well-being was forgotten as soon as they heard about the sports festival... Well, almost. There were some misgivings about the villains making another attack, but Aizawa quickly cleared that up, reminded them not to slack off and the class erupted into excited chatter. He dismissed them and they trickled out to lunch. With his mouth and hands swathed in bandages, Aizawa was reduced to sucking food through a straw. He would quite happily spend lunch alone at his desk

London was burning. The bridges, the palaces, the towers, the monuments, the buildings… Everything was consumed by the blaze. All Espella could do was watch. High up in Big Ben, trapped behind the giant clock-face, she was out of the flames’ reach. She could still feel the heat, scalding as an iron against her skin. But she dared not turn away or shut her stinging eyes. There was no denying it. She had caused this. Not some fabled witch. Not her fanatic father. Not her misguided friend. Espella alone was to blame. In her trembling hands, she clutched Eve’s molten gold pendant. Only the ruby jewel remained intact. It was all she had left of Eve. Eve was nothing but ash now, along with Aunt Patty, Mr Layton, Mr Wright, Maya, Luke, Carmine… The list went on and on. Every person Espella had ever loved. Big Ben tolled for each of them. At last, the ruby melted, soaking Espella’s fingers. Gasping, Espella threw her red palms against the clock-face. She tried to paint the shape of a

“And that person is you!” All along, Arianna had known on some level. But when Professor Layton pointed at her father, she felt as if she had plummeted into ice water. Her father’s blue eyes widened and Arianna let herself believe, just for a moment, that there had been a mistake. But how could she deny everything that had happened in the last six months? Her father’s swift recovery from his fall, his sporadic disappearances, his strict orders to the townspeople… He had become so obsessed with finding the Golden Garden. Initially, he had claimed it was for Arianna’s sake, but why had he neglected her and Tony? Why had he disapproved of their friendship with Loosha? Why had he publicly accused Loosha of destroying the town-- along with Luke? Why had he turned on the Triton family? “You must be confused, Layton,” he said airily. “I’m the mayor. I have all the riches I could need. What could I possibly hope to gain by demolishing Misthallery?” The professor went on to reveal how he had

The bearded old man passed Angela the key and finally left them alone in the hallway. She traded a determined look with Dalston and unlocked the door. Dalston offered to go first before calling her in.  A sigh of joint relief and frustration escaped her as she surveyed the obsidian suite. It was just as gaudy as the room she had shared with Henry on their wedding night.  There were no hints that a struggle had taken place… and no sign of Henry.  Dubiously, Dalston hollered, “Eh up! Ledore, you in here-?”  He was cut off by a muffled scream from the closet. With a gasp, Angela tore open the closet door. Bedraggled, bruised, and bound in rope, but beyond a shadow of a doubt- there was Henry. Nothing like the imposter who had craved the Mask of Order, corrupted their home, and threatened Angela and Mrs Ascot. The real Henry had poured every penny he’d earned into the search for Randall and building a safe haven for his return. Despite his unfair dismissal from Ascot Manor, he had

“Hi, Grandmother…” Sophia’s eyes slipped open. She didn’t lift her head from the green pillows, but her gaze, hazy with painkillers, drifted towards Katia. She blinked slowly before she rasped, “Iris?” “No…” Katia brushed her fringe off her face. “It’s-“ “Iris,” Sophia insisted warmly. “How is everything, sweetheart?” Katia swallowed and replied shakily, “O-okay…” “Is Andy busy? Honestly, that boy never knows when to stop!” It was funny hearing her father referred to as a ‘boy’. Despite everything, Katia let out a wobbly laugh. “He… he’s not working at the moment.” He was downstairs, consoling the relatives and friends crowded on their doorstep. Sophia released a weak chuckle. “Good, good… You watch him now!” Katia hadn’t breathed a word to him about her plan to leave. It didn’t matter that Katia was turning eighteen next year. Her father blamed the upheaval in Folsense for Sophia’s deteriorating health now. (Even though Sophia had lived on fifty years since she had left the town.)

“Are you sure the ringmaster won’t mind?” Angela asked as she followed Alphonse into the circus tent. There were clowns, dancers and other troupe members dashing about, preparing for tonight’s show. (They looked more hectic than Henry when he was on a cleaning spree.) “‘Course he won’t,” Alphonse scoffed. “I’ve paid for most of it- and you’re a VIP!” Alphonse had given her tickets for the best seats in the house, along with a backstage pass to meet the circus’s star performer. This invitation had implicitly applied to Henry as well, as Angela’s ‘plus-one’, but he had claimed he was too busy to join them. For once, Angela didn’t try to divert him from his duties. She was just glad to get out of the mansion and to catch up with Alphonse. He was less… competitive when Henry’s wasn’t present. Angela smiled as Alphonse led her past the stage. He was as excited as a child showing off his new pet. Alphonse came to a stop and announced, “Here he is! The fearsome… the ferocious…

After Randall’s hair had been cut, Henry insisted on getting him some new clothes. Fortunately, Henry had a wardrobe- an entire room- prepared for his return. The room was on the mansion’s first floor, offering a magnificent view of Monte d’Or. It appeared newly furnished, or maybe everything within had just been kept in mint condition. The curtains effused a floral scent as they fluttered in the breeze. The king-sized bed was freshly made. The green carpet was plush and spotless- so much that Randall felt the need to remove his shoes as he followed Henry in. Randall recognised some keepsakes from his teenage bedroom back in Stansbury: Photos, books and treasures he had collected. Everything in this room… in this house… in this city apparently belonged to Randall. And he had almost destroyed it all… From now on, he wouldn’t rest until he had to made it up to Henry- and Angela. He could start by burning the Masked Gentleman’s costume. Henry wasn’t keen on that idea (Monte d’Or had