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Date: 2/18/24 23:51 (UTC)he doesn't feel sore anywhere else. it doesn't feel like there's been anything pushed into him, any sort of injection, any sort of wound other than where the restraints rub his skin raw, or where his cheek burns with the agony of that blossoming bruise; immediately, his gaze swings to bakugou again, checking him over with the quickest of glances. it feels like the worry and fear for him might drown him in his own lungs; it's not that he doesn't think that bakugou can hold his own, but if he's in the same situation, then what can they really do? for the most part, he seems to be in one piece, and by the way he's rattling around, straining and glaring and spitting muffled words against the muzzle, he's good enough. it would be more worrisome to see him quiet, more worrisome to see him unable to rise to the challenge. that settles some of his fear, pushes it down to his stomach instead of his chest.
so it's not the three men gathered around there, but it's the calmer man, in the back, the one that's idly flicking over the screen of his smartphone--he's the one they have to worry about, at least until 'the boss' returns. whoever 'the boss' is. there's a soft, panicked swallow; he can come up with battle plans no problem, but bakugou is usually the one that's more technical between them, more detail-oriented, and usually his own ideas are pivoted and bounced back and forth between himself and midoriya until they find the way forward. he doesn't know how best to react, except to sink back into that personality he had created for himself, like a cave for a polar bear, frozen and cold; his gaze lifts, studying the men gathered around him like he's some sort of punching bag, and he lets out a soft breath, laced with an anger that he chokes out of his voice. )
You shouldn't hit me again. ( it sounds less like a challenge, and more like the logical conclusion; his voice is flat, cold, gaze rolled up towards the ceiling. ) It would be a shame if some part of your mold broke.
( the words are no sooner out of his mouth than he realizes--the restraints. they're about the typical size of a handcuff, maybe, with some give between the skin and the metal; his fingers flex above his head, trying to make the movement seem nonchalant, as though he's starting to lose circulation. his head rolls, another glance at bakugou--his brows lift, a tilt of his head up towards his hands as though to draw his attention there.
slowly, he rolls his thumbs in against his palms, trying to indicate: he might not be able to dislocate his own thumbs like this, under their amused watch, but if bakugou can manage, then maybe he could slip free--though the thought of encouraging his boyfriend, of all people, to hurt himself in order to escape makes him feel sick to his stomach, an option he doesn't want to have to consider, or worse, have to watch. it wouldn't be a permanent injury, but even so: if he could do it himself, instead, he would much rather endure that kind of thing than watch it happen to someone he--cares about. )
no subject
Date: 3/3/24 20:57 (UTC)one of the men quickly surges to his restraints, though instead of tightening them, there's a quick (frantic) sort of stuffing, shoving cloth between the cuff fastener and the bar it's clasped around. that effectively muffles the steady clanging sound he'd been trying to make by jerking his limbs. fucking bastards aren't as stupid as he wants to think they are. though the panic on the guy's face to mute the noise makes him wonder if the boss is someone to fear that much or if they're not in an as remote area as you'd normally bring kidnapped people. the fact both of them are awake, and todoroki is active and talking, suggests some level of confidence in the current setup. it's a confusing mixture and he fucking hates it already. this powerless feeling, the unknown, his boyfriend's safety in the hands of someone else while he's trapped here unable to move and splatter these idiots all over the fucking wall!!
as far as the pecking order goes, three grunts and one leader are here, with the boss elsewhere. that's five they have to contend with that they know of. already his mind's running, checking surrounding and their current state. the cuffs have chains, thick and linked, but without a way to rotate or twist, he can't use the torque to snap them under their own pressure. while todoroki's shackled to crude rings on the wall (what is this, some fucking old-fashioned dungeon?) the blonde's chained to some sort of frame, almost like a bed stripped of its bedding. he could rock it and knock it over, but there's no assurance it'll bend or break enough for him to get free before these people can do something. plus flat on his back will make him lose visual on todoroki, and he doesn't want to do that. best to do as he did in the league of villains and sit here, now-quiet and glaring, to wait for a better opportunity.
catching todoroki's eye isn't hard, nor is deciphering the indication of his suggested action. yeah, he already thought about dislocating, or even breaking his own thumb while he'd been slamming his arms away earlier against the shackles. but that wasn't going to happen. even if he could get his hand(s) free, his legs are still bound, his quirk is locked, and he'd be hurting himself to only get half-free in a room of four men capable of full movement and unknown capabilities. he curls his fingers into a fist and hangs forward on the restraints, aggressive and threatening as he waits. they'll have their chance and they should take it at full strength.]
How astute. [the man from the back finally leaves his phone and rises in a smooth motion, only to glide forward in an effortless maneuver towards todoroki. he reaches up, apparently expecting resistance or even an attempted bite, but only seeks to inspect the damage done to the young hero's face by that initial punch.] Rest assured, even if you break, I can repair a damaged piece. In case you think lowering your value would give you any sort of advantage on my boss. [while his focus is on todoroki, it's more suggestive that comment was directed at bakugo. he would be the type to injure himself to gain some kind of spiteful advantage on his opponent.] Now, if you would be so kind as to permit me...
[provided there's no additional resistance from todoroki, the man will circle his index and thumb like an "okay" sign before resting it over the bruised area.] Cut... [there's a brief snap, akin to a camera click, before the injury is soothed over.] Soral? [to the man who hit todoroki.] Could you could here for a minute? [before putting the same hand, same position, on the thug's cheek.] And paste. [WHACK!! the bruised impact reappears on the thug's jaw, snapping his head to the side, essentially transferring the injury.] I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that again. Damage Transfer is unfortunately a daily limited-use Quirk.
no subject
Date: 3/11/24 00:38 (UTC)they'll have to wait, to be taken out of the restraints and put somewhere else. taken somewhere else.
the thought makes his anxious blood run cold. he can handle being here, can handle the touches, the violence, can handle being looked at like some sort of perfect specimen; it's not as though it's the first time he's felt that, not the first time he's had eyes on him that seemed only too primed to accept only perfection, from him, timed to the pulse of his hands. but it's something different to think of bakugou being carted away to another room, to have bakugou taken away from him, sorted out somewhere else. it makes him a little grateful, when bakugou's rattling steadies into a quiet, deadly sort of calm: they're not going to remove him just yet for making noise. they'll stay here, in the room, together.
of course, the man that seems to be the leader, here, rises to the challenge. he watches, steady, as he approaches, but there's nothing in his hand but the phone that he tucks away; he can't even get a glance at the time on the screen before it's pushed into a pocket. even so, his head presses back against the wall, cheek turned away as though he might fight the touch; but what can he do? defensive, he squares his shoulders, holds his breath, and waits: but the fingers that wander over his jaw, turning it, are soft and steady, and the gentle movement over his bruised cheek is just the same. measured, as though he's dealing with expensive goods. careful, as though he doesn't want to damage anything further.
it takes locking his own jaw to keep from gawking at the sight. damage transfer isn't a quirk he's heard of, but that doesn't mean anything--midoriya might have it jotted down in one of those countless notebooks of his, after all. he watches, silent, and calculates; just because the leader says that it's a quirk limited to once-a-day use doesn't mean anything. after all, he'd first thought to conceal the red of his hair to trick enemies into thinking he had only ice at his disposal--the disgust with the endeavor part of his quirk had been an added bonus.
after a moment, weighing his options, he speaks: )
Thank you.
( it seems wrong--it feels wrong, curved out from his tongue, but he keeps it cold and heavy, weighted with a despondent disinterest. one of the grunts laughs; the other, now with a purpling bruise on his cheek, seems content to sulk just beyond the edge of his restraints, as though he knows better than to try anything again. the final grunt claps him on the shoulder, commiserating.
the leader studies him for a moment, seeming to consider, before he turns away, heading towards bakugou, instead. immediately, shouto's arms flex against the chains; they rattle, taut and painful, scraping in against the reddened skin at his wrists. the sound draws the leader's attention; he turns, briefly, to offer shouto a polite, strained sort of smile, but he doesn't find it reassuring, doesn't find that it does anything but ignite a cold, narrowed sort of anger in his gaze, his lips pressed together against the words he wants to spit out in threatened agitation.
don't worry, the leader says, with a wave of his hand. i only intend to make things more tolerable for you.
the leader's gaze swings down to bakugou--a lift of a brow, as though telling him that he'll regret it if he bites; he bends, starting to loosen the muzzle around bakugou's mouth, letting it sag and strain against his lips. he'll have to push it out the way himself with his tongue if he wants to be free of it entirely. )
no subject
Date: 3/15/24 03:20 (UTC)silencing his cuffs is one note of that. he assumes keeping him in the same room as todoroki is also an element of that shrewd nature. if both of them can see each other, the active threat of injury coming to the other lies far more apparent than just saying shit about an unseen figure in another room. they're healthy, alive, and uninjured for the time being; if they want to spring free another time, they'll have to ensure both of themselves stay that way. he can't be sure todoroki is well if they remove him from his sight... but he also doesn't want to give any of these assholes the suggestion he might become more vulnerable if they were to take his classmate (no, boyfriend) away. best remain callous for now.
his eyes narrow when the man approaches todoroki, though he keeps any semblance of panic or anger out of his actions or expression. to let them know he's irritated at touching or messing with the other hero would only give indication todoroki is a chink in his normal explosive armor. given the man's talk about their bodily status and his irritation over the half-cold-half-hot hero being injured, it's highly likely their physical safety is desired. and if the man's approaching todoroki to address that, it can only be to improve the blemish rather than keep or increase it.
though... what the fuck is that kind of quirk?! being able to heal injuries is always going to be a lauded quirk for any hand that it fell into. recovery girl and eri both have quirks that can help with such and their power is greatly coveted by many people. this random ass thug in a warehouse can transfer damage? it's not entirely unreal; that fucking overhaul yakuza guy could repair damaged bodies without an issue. (if he still had arms.) but this one's ability to single out and manipulate damage like that is... well, he's always been a nerd no matter how much he tries to hide it, so his interest in the new quirk is obvious. good thing todoroki doesn't believe that "once a day" crap, though he doubts this man has free use of a quirk like that. those types always come with downsides, for both the one using it and the one it's used on. limited use seems a decent check for a quirk of that nature.
tch... todoroki's too polite. thanking the man for healing him. the other thug that now has to nurse a bruised jaw certainly isn't happy with the "trade" but that's apparently the price for ignoring orders. if he gets out of here, that man's going to have way worse than a busted jaw to worry about.
then attention turns towards him. his eyebrows lift in slight wariness and warning, lips curling invisibly behind the muzzle around his mouth. if this guy thinks he's going to let him touch him, he's got another thing coming. there's no damage on him, so he doesn't need to do shit! shoulders harden and his arms flex in preparation to move, even if there's no real place for him to move to. todoroki's not shouting or growling, though it's obvious he's agitated. one of the thugs notices and ribs the other with a grin, nodding at the dual-haired hero. something passes between them like a joke and they end up sniggering behind their hands.
don't worry, the bastard says, like that's supposed to help when he's got him chained up to a fucking bedframe! if he wants to make it more tolerable, he can release these chains and die for his troubles! that lifted brow only gets a visible furrowing of his back, a throaty snarl rumbling in his chest. but as the hands work at the muzzle and start to loosen it, he's a little surprised. the leader of this group seems to be more civil than most villains. or stupid, like shigaraki. once the muzzle is relaxed enough it can be removed, he toys with the idea of using his tongue to push it out...
...before promptly shoving his head forward and spitting the entire thing out of his mouth and off his face with a harsh, wet sound. deliberately intending to knock it right off this bastard's face. it probably won't go too far, if it's still locked around the back of his head and neck, but hell if the intent's not getting through.
it's at this point another door elsewhere opens and fifth person enters. considering the way the three grunts suddenly tense up, it's undoubtedly "the boss" the fourth one was referring to earlier. he sounds like he's on the phone.]
Nah. Got a few more things to tie up here, then I'll be free. [what the fuck? he sounds young too.] Oh yeah, I told you that before. You didn't listen. Not my problem. [callous, confident, controlled.] Really? It's got a few minutes left. Wanna try and fight it off? ... Didn't think so. Later!
no subject
Date: 3/30/24 23:31 (UTC)relief floods him, but he forces it away, forces it down, forces it to disappear. true to form, bakugou isn't having any of it: he spits the muzzle out, and it hangs there for a moment, clinging to the loosened straps around the back of his head, before those give, and the weight of the muzzle hits the floor beneath him, clanging slightly with the weight of it. he watches him for a moment, rapt, wondering if the calm demeanor of the group's leader will falter; he doesn't seem bothered by the movement at all.
but then a door opens. immediately, shouto's head whips up; his eyes narrow, searching for the source of the movement. the men around him seem to suddenly fall into place, their shoulders straightening, jaws locking, whining and ribbing silenced with an almost immediate chill. outside of the slight sound of the chains, as he and bakugou move, there seems to be no other sound in the room; well, other than the yapping of whoever this is on the phone or whatever he's talking to. even the leader steps back, away from bakugou, and laces his hands behind his back--which means whoever this is, it must be the person above them all, the person really calling the shots. a sudden rush of anxious concern rocks through him, trying to swallow it down.
there's no more buying any time. the man cackles, an amused laugh, and the door clangs shut behind him; he immediately moves towards the group of them, and shouto has to balk a little: the guy looks like he's maybe natsuo's age, slightly older, perhaps, but not by much. what's a guy like this doing here, and already in so much control? he comes to a succinct stop just beyond the two of them, glancing from bakugou, a wondering sort of look, and then to him, calculating. there's nothing that shouto can read in his gaze, nothing that he can ascertain from the way he studies him: but it feels like a butcher looking at a slab of meat, hanging off a hook in a freezer. he's trying to decide what pieces of either of them to serve up for dinner.
with a snap of his fingers, the boss laughs. that one first he says, decisively, and gestures a hand out towards bakugou. the leader nods, and the grunts move in closer, a wary circle around bakugou in order to start to approach where his chains are hooked into the wall--and the immediate fear that rockets through him twists into a bolt of liquid fury. )
Wait. Wait! ( he says, clamoring against his restraints--the sound of them is muffled up by the noise they're making, getting bakugou off the wall, and the boss is talking over him, discussing something with the leader of the idiots, and he can't think of what to do, what he can do, what he needs to do, because if they're taking bakugou off somewhere, he's not going to know--
there's a curse: he's losing his cool and he knows it, but he continues to pull, continues to push against his wrists and his ankles, letting the pain of the metal there, biting into his skin, ground him in the moment. ) Not him first. He's--not him first, wait.
no subject
Date: 4/4/24 18:54 (UTC)of course there's no response from the person who loosed his gag. unlike the grunts, this man seems to know how this kind of shit works. boding ill of experiences before. just how many people has he kidnapped and shackled up in his time? never one to think too hard about a villain's past, it's only a passing thought, but offers more contextualizing commentary about the type of villain they're dealing with.
along with shouto, his head jerks upward in time with the door opening. so this is it, huh? the "big boss" finally appears to snap all the lackeys to attention. minus the fucker with the damage transfer quirk; he just steps back and crosses his hands over his tailbone ala stereotypical cool mobster. he wants to kick his fucking teeth in... but focuses instead on the approaching figure. the ironic part is this person sounds annoyingly young in spirit. there's no imposing doom over the phone, no agreement for weapons or murder, just some cocky punk who sounds like he's telling off a client without a care in the world. like shouto thinks: fucking yapping. what kind of thug boss yaps?!
apparently a young one. not even thirty from the looks it him. maybe younger twenties. that yakuza boss with the beak was pretty young too. looked young. as soon as those eyes turn towards him, he bristles in anger, hackles up and all four limbs deliberately pressing forward against his restraints. it's telegraphed, obvious, and promising to murder this person if he's released. no point in pretending otherwise; anyone's heard of bakugou's attack on shigaraki after the villains kidnapped him. no one's going to think the explosive blonde is a "safe" captive to release. but that gaze is unnerving in its type. a robotic scan. a butcher's intent. an artistic appraisal. it makes his skin crawl in ways he doesn't like. even worse when he looks at shouto with those same eyes. he wants to excuse it as perverse, but it's beyond that.
until he's picked. as soon as that snap happens, he knows he's been chosen.] Fuck you! Touch me and you're dead! [no fear, no weakness, only pure rage and a promise of violence if they dare to release him. arms, legs, shoulder, chest, everything's heaving and straining against his chains as the men approach and start to work at his shackles. they're seriously going to let him go?! are they idiots?! well hell if he's not about to capitalize on that. again, no point in playing nice. these people look like they'll do their intent regardless of cooperation or not. shouto's fighting too and he's not about to show anything less than the other hero in efforts to fight back.]
Oy oy oy, calm down, kid. [the boss swerves off from bakugou with an easy curve of his body. faux-fur-lined black jacket, a mesh t-shirt beneath that the blonde thinks looks more at home on a fucking prostitute than a thug boss, metal-studded belt, heavy black distressed jeans, and a pair of boots that could probably hike a mountain. ignoring the others as they carry out his orders, the guy saunters over to shouto, head lilted back to one shoulder in an easy grace. messy dark hair and a surprising set of piercing eyes, one violet, one green. he comes to a stop next to shouto and lazily drapes an arm over the hero's shoulders and nape, not at all minding the close proximity.] I'm not gonna hurt either of you. Where's the fun in that? Nah, I like my prototypes nice and clean. No point in working off a busted original, right?
[before pushing his finger against shouto's cheek, then abruptly shoving the young hero's head towards him, bonking foreheads with him a second later. both sets of mismatched eyes stare right into each other, one set wide and panicked, the other cool and easy... and maybe a little maniac in excitement.] Can't say I won't have fun messing you up in other ways though, hey Shooutooo!
no subject
Date: 4/20/24 22:37 (UTC)like this one. villains love to hear themselves talk. give them a chance and they'll blurt everything out, especially the weaker ones. make yourself quiet, and you'll be able to learn so much more. don't let them see your weakness. don't even act like you have a weakness.
it's so hard to reach for that. it's so hard to find it. his thoughts blur, a spiral of anger and rage and a little bit of fear, slipping in, because he can't do anything about it, he can't break out of his restraints, he can't even use his quirk, and bakugou--
there's a sharp curse, spilled out from his lips, and even with that arm that wraps around his shoulders, pressed in against the back of his neck, he can feel his anger bubbling up as he hangs his head. for a moment, he doesn't have to look at anything, doesn't have to see anything but the shackles around his ankles, pulled taut now with chain. if he can just get a minute to center himself down, to actually think for a moment--
but their heads collide, after a moment, and there's a hard pain there, blossoming out through his temples; the laughter rings in his ears, manic and amused, and he stares at him, stares at this man with his own eyes blown out in wide, panicked, angry shades of mismatched grey and teal. he's close enough that he could--no, that would just be antagonizing--but maybe--
his head recoils, lips pursed together, and it's a mouthful of spit that he chokes out, chin lifting with the effort to splatter it right into the man's face.
for a moment, there's only the sound of bakugou's chains rattling; even the grunts have gone quiet, and it's the former, supposed leader that finally steps in as the extravagant boss grins, despite himself, and holds out his other hand. the arm that's laced around shouto's shoulders stays there, but it's tightening: as though even he is starting to tent with anger, as though this is starting to be more trouble than it's worth. a soft, folded towel is placed into the man's waiting hand, and he uses it to dab away the glob of shouto's saliva, still clinging to his nose and cheek.
and then, a laugh. it doesn't sound like anything is funny: but like there's an excitement there that won't be tampered with, an excitement that bubbles into another laugh, and another, and he's grinning as he shakes his head, tucking that used towel down into his own pocket instead.
so here's how it's going to go! he finally says, voice dying of laughter, trickling with amusement. the arm around shouto's shoulders moves, but only so that he can wrangle himself closer, grip shouto's jaw into his palm, fingers digging into his cheeks as he forces shouto's head to turn. the other grunts have finally loosened bakugou off the wall; the chains attached to his shackles clunk against the floor, and then the grunts move back towards the wall again so that they can slowly unhook the chains from the hold, there.
you're going to play nice, or i'm going to play nicer with your little friend, here. it's a statement that's directed out towards bakugou; the men holding his chains twist them tighter, standing back at a distance as though they're too afraid to even get closer to him. it would be easy enough for them to pull and knock bakugou right off his feet with the movement.
you get it, right? there's a drawling amusement to the man's voice, as his other hand brushes, light and open palmed against the front of shouto's taut chest. now be a good little hero and walk yourself forward. to that door over there. don't worry, they'll give you the slack to do it.)
no subject
Date: 5/3/24 07:12 (UTC)pera pera pera. is this guy going to do the same? mock them, extol some shit virtue or plan, then make the dumb decision to let them free? probably not, considering the league of villains made the same mistake. it's why he quiets down when the head of this lame kidnapping attempt shows up. let him think there's some kind of power or fear in the room when there's really nothing more than lurking predators waiting to be uncaged.
this bastard saunters in here, casually dismissing and threatening someone on the other end of the phone, then shuts it up before running his mouth like some bratty kid. fuck, he doesn't know if the man's a man or a child in a grown body with that kind of attitude. never grew up or fucking batty. he bristles slightly when the man abruptly drapes his arm over todoroki's shoulders and neck, like some kind of chummy pal getting all close to a friend. it makes his nerves fire in protective jealousy, some threat getting that close to the guy he loves... but if he dares to show it, they'll only use it against them. best let these losers see two teammates, classmates, maybe even friends, not deeper.
until that casual humor snaps into some maniac interest. in one second, this went from strange to a straight up lance of danger. crazy people are on a whole different level of threat. he narrows his eyes, flexes his fingers above the cuffs, tries to gauge if he could rip himself out of here and what part of his body that would cost. leaving todoroki that close to a deranged madman with an uncanny personal interest in the other hero pricks the nape of his neck with an instinctive sense of danger, pupils dilating and senses heightening in natural urge to act.
right before todoroki spits in the man's face. that's... the first time he's ever seen his boyfriend do something so crude in all the time he's known him. and maybe it's the same for the others because the room's gone silent real quick. the hero shouto has a reputation for polite and calm. certainly not someone who'd hock into a villain's face. shackled as he is over here, all he can do is watch, and hope this guy doesn't snap further from the action. they're in a vulnerable position. a single knife or gun could end either of their lives. fuck, this sense of vulnerability and helplessness rakes across his flesh enough to make it crawl in a rise of alarm. he has to move, has to act!
-until pimp face over there starts laughing. shit, he really is nuts. there's no expected anger at getting spat on, but the amusement and excitement resulting from it chills down his spine and makes his skin feel two sizes too tight. they're dealing with a maniac. locked up with a fucking maniac at the controls. just with that realization, the shackles on his arms and legs go limp as they finally spring free of the wall, no longer bound to that surface. what, they're just going to leave him free? nope. they're gonna hold his chains like a damn leash. stupid...
boring his eyes into the man's back as he talks to todoroki, he runs through a few motions in his head. there's no knife or gun yet, but with the boss so close to the other hero, he can't be rash just yet. it's tempting, but not the right time. without his quirk, battling a group of men with four potential quirks still unknown is a fucking moron move. he could yank his own chains just as much as those thugs could haul him with them.
given some direction, steel in his eyes, he steps forward, walking towards the door indicated. yeah, they're giving him the slack needed to move. not enough to give him much to work with beyond that though. it's tempting to launch a kick, loop the chain around the boss' throat, and threaten to throttle him immediately, but with those hands on todoroki's body... someone like this wouldn't go through this kind of setup without confidence in his power.
not yet. he'll make for the door and stop in front of it, not bothering to look at the man or todoroki for the moment. however, he's made sure to note where the chain is in relation with the man's body. if he can get the slack to do it, a quick twist and kick would whip the metal straight up his chest and smack his hand away from todoroki's body before cracking him under the chin... it'd be enough to separate him from his boyfriend, but unless the other hero could free himself in that instance, it wouldn't do much more than that.
so he doesn't attack. stands in front of the door waiting. let them think he'll cooperate.]
no subject
Date: 5/12/24 22:05 (UTC)but it fills his chest with the heavy weight of guilt--that he couldn't get between them, that he couldn't be the one to take whatever it is first, that it has to be bakugou there, moving towards the other room. bakugou's the one that's done everything right, here, and he's messed things up--it's the kind of thinking that has gotten him into trouble in the past, boldly pressing forward with his own beliefs and ideas without considering the impact that others could have, or the way that they could help him figure something out. for a moment, there's just the rustled sound of the chains as bakugou moves, and the soft hum of consideration of the man who's now groping down his chest to pat him, idly, as though reassuring a naughty child of their punishment.
they want bakugou to move himself. but if that's the case, and he gets into that room first--
there's a rough swallow. his head tilts, moves, as though he's fighting the arm that's wrapped around him; that gets the boss' attention, makes his brows lift in interest. there's no reasoning with a psychopath: some villains might have some measure of sanity, or even some moral identity that they cling to. even members of the league seem to have those, to some extent. but a psychopath only seems to marvel in the existence of things they can't feel: emotions, pain, human weakness. and maybe he can use that to their advantage. if he's already gone this far, it won't hurt to keep pushing.
his gaze goes, sidelong and cold, to watch the man, as bakugou moves. the boss, in turn, shifts slightly away from him to get a good look at his face--shouto's lips press together, jaw locked, his shoulders twitching slightly with the exaggerated effort of someone trying to stay hardened and cold. that delights the boss: immediately, he snaps a hand, and two of the grunts approach. that arm around shouto's shoulders falls, but only so that the grunts can move closer, starting to loosen his chains from the wall.
new plan! the man says, clapping his hands together. judging by the look on the other's faces, this is something that happens often enough that they don't seem to mind it; or rather, they're better at hiding their disgust than shouto is forcing himself not to be. after all, what would a show be without an audience, right?
it's unannounced, the way that his feet slide to hit the floor--his weight wobbles, balance lanced by the pain in his heels, his ankles, having been strung up long enough for the skin to start to rub raw. the two grunts hold him at less of a slack than bakugou: the chain is tight, from his wrists, from his ankles, and that suits him just fine. his gaze goes out to bakugou, then back to the boss, who seems to now be keeping his distance. he doesn't even reach out to pat him on the back, or force him forward, or brush his hair out of his face; there seems to be some reason why he doesn't want to touch him while the chains are in the hands of the grunts, rather than the wall. peculiar.
you must really like this one, huh? the boss says to shouto, nodding his chin pointedly out at bakugou. at least this means that shouto's plan is working, even a little bit: using that emotional connection to his advantage, just as the boss thinks he's using that emotional connection between the two heroes to their disadvantage. don't worry, we'll let you watch.
testing, shouto takes a step forward. then another. )
Bakugou. ( he says, softly: with a crooning grin, the boss leans in, cups a hand around his ear comically, as though he's about to hear something sweet, something painful, something that will make the torture of this even more enjoyable.
inside that room: he's sure that whatever they're going to do will need tools. more shackles. a table. hell, there could be needles, knives, handsaws, machinery. medicine, poisons, whatever else they could stock for this sort of backhanded transaction. something that will melt through the cuffs. a key. he doesn't know.
but he knows that now they're split evenly--and that bakugou is strong enough to throw something in front of the door to block it, if he has to. )
Run. ( he says, a shout, as he rams himself forward, a hard thrust of his head swung into the boss' face; with a cackling howl, as though just as amused as he is angry, the man brings his hands to his face, blood spilling between his fingers as though shouto may have very well broke his nose. immediately the slack on his chains tightens, but he doesn't care: he's already walking a few steps back, fully intending to try to swing that short slack around the men holding the chains to wrap them up in it. it's chaotic, loud and full of yelling, and he can't watch bakugou--but he trusts that he'll find some way to take advantage of it all, unknown quirks firing or not. )
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Date: 5/18/24 01:14 (UTC)urusei, todoroki. getting distracted by guilt's just going to make it harder to think when the split-second timing snaps in the optimal moment. he should be thinking of things he could do to get out of here. there will be time for grief and guilt later. at the moment, todoroki's widespread attacks will be marginally more useful than his explosions in that momentary window of opportunity. he'd rather be the one to handle whatever the hell is behind this door than the other hero. if he's injured, todoroki can at least put him on ice to the hospital.
he hears the other hero shifting slightly behind him, drawing attention from the boss who seems to be so damn content to keep draping himself over todoroki's neck and shoulders. it makes his blood boil, wanting to snap that asshole's neck and blow him to smithereens all over the wall. don't touch his boyfriend like that! yet he refuses to let any of those emotions or tensions show, not wanting to provide the suggestion that todoroki could be a weakness. neither of them would handle that revelation (even if it is reality) well in this case.
that snap behind him breaks the concentration and he looks over his shoulder, having agreed to walk to the door, not fucking stand here if they're going to mess with todoroki. red eyes narrow, glaring at the group when the other hero's released enough to go slack again. like he'd just been. what the hell? they're seriously going to let him free despite knowing the two of them work together? either these assholes much have confidence in their quirks against the two young heroes who currently lack theirs, or something else is going on. he tries to channel some element of his quirk, but even his glands refuse to secrete his explosive sweat. the lack starts to gnaw cold at his chest, wondering how much damage had actually been done to their bodies.
new plan? ... shit, none of the other cronies look surprised. this insane nut must do this kind of thing a lot. all of that can go to hell when todoroki slides on the floor. bastards. leaving him shackled like that would've made his legs go numb after all that time! did they expect him to suddenly up and walk when he had no feeling in his damn limbs? silently encouraging his boyfriend to stand and walk, he waits where he is, resisting every fiber in his being to twist around and attack. a hair's breadth away from pulling his own proverbial trigger. but the important part is todoroki's free. the boss has stepped back, taking some precaution and safety in the distance. heh... he doesn't trust them. too bad. he's not as stupid as the explosive hero hoped he was.
the only thing so far is the man with the damage transfer quirk. but that lacks any real offensive use, unless he's going to injure himself or an ally and then try to apply the damage. the head of this organization is rambling again, talking about supposed relationships and what the fuck does he mean by watching? nothing good comes from comments like that. he narrows his eyes as todoroki steps towards him, noting the chains and the men holding them. the sound of his own name comes from those lips, deliberately softened with that weird grin he's never seen on his boyfriend's lips outside of stupid shit. he's intending something, leading the boss to drink it in like an idiot.
run. that's all he gets before all hell breaks loose. bones cracks against cartilage, squelch of blood and shouts, he immediately slams both arms forward, yanking his own chains hard and taut against the men who had only been haphazardly holding them. snap! rip! clean out of their hands, slapping hard on a thigh, and he slings one arm backwards, causing the chain to whip an arch on the floor. the end of it splits the air with a snap into the back of one of todoroki's holder's head, right at the base of his neck, either blacking him out or stunning him. but it'll be enough to give his boyfriend freedom of his arm and leg. at the same time, he kicks forward, dragging his own chains straight up to his body from his ankles. all four hiss and rattle as he scoops them from the ground, blitzing backwards to use the quartet of metal links as a flail against the remaining pair of thugs trying to wrangle todoroki in.
run? fuck that. they can run together! as much as he would have liked to block the door, there's nothing around capable enough to do that within reach. crates, ladders, chairs, a fucking forklift. nope! but getting todoroki free? he can do that. two men can't do shit and it only takes a knee and club from his leg and chains to knock them back, granting the there other his complete freedom. he stomps on the chain closest and rakes his foot backwards, dragging it cross the floor and into todoroki's possession. that's all they need. no more tethers for these assholes to hold them on.
now they can run. he ducks the second a bullet snaps off beside them, but refuses to freeze up. no, he's moving, quickly wrapping the chains around his arms as impromptu armor and making sure todoroki's behind him. the boss came from upstairs earlier. if there's an entrance up there, that means it's an exit. not trusting todoroki's legs completely yet, he reaches back when they approach the stairs.] Give me your hand and jump!
[rather than take the stairs, both of them, he's going to throw his boyfriend clean up onto the railing of the floor above, then follow, splitting themselves up a bit so the others don't have a single target to aim at.]
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Date: 6/2/24 23:31 (UTC)well, he's taking it. but he's refusing to leave him behind--refusing to do anything except help them both make it out at the same time.
he can't even argue it: he should have known that's what bakugou would do, that there's no way in hell that he'd leave someone behind, just in the same way that none of them had been prepared to leave bakugou alone in the hands of the villains, the way that they'd gone against all the rules just to get him back. he's sure that if--when--they make it out of this, bakugou will have more than a few harsh things to say to him, for trying to go about this the wrong way; he'll take every word to heart and reflect on it. every situation that they've ever been in has been a learning experience: learning how to work together, learning how to be heroes together, learning how to rely on their own talents while assisting others. if he had the space to think about it, it would feel like some perverse pride: this guy, lashing out against their captors to try to give them both the edge to escape, is the person that's chosen to be with him, despite everything.
he can't think of a moment where bakugou hasn't inspired him--but this one may be one of the most satisfying instances.
without hesitating, he falls into line with the movements. the grunts that have been relieved of bakugou's chains immediately rush for weapons, which says to him that if they have any quirks, they're not the kind that will be inherently dangerous: but depending on what they have in their arsenal, it may be worrisome all the same. the chains snap out of their holds, and he can feel the tension loosening, feel his body aching in response; he hadn't realized how tight everything had been until he can feel his own body give, feel his feet ache at the thought of pitching his weight forward again. he can't stop here--and bakugou isn't stopping, either, wrapping the chains up around his limbs to give him more space to run. without a second thought, he scrambles into a dash after him.
it's a ridiculous, hazy thought: when had he learned to fear hands and feet and the power of unknown quirks over the more basic human fears? a gun cocks, and he hears the shot ring out past them, but it's aimed for bakugou, it seems, and lodges past him into the wall. an anxious worry wells up into his throat; he only realizes they're at the stairs because bakugou skids to a stop in front of them. dazed, he can only nod. ) Right.
( his hand, trembling, snaps into bakugou's hold--and his leg pivots, one shaky foot that braces for the weight of bakugou, thrown against him, hauling him up into the air. it would have been much easier with either of their quirks active, but they have to rely on sheer strength, for now; one of his chains catches, jerks into the railing of the floor above them, and he catches it with his arms, immediately slamming his chest and stomach into it so that he can pitch himself up and over. his whole body is screaming in agony, now, as though working itself up past the ache of his limbs is finally catching up to him--in a scramble, he tries to work up onto his feet. )
Bakugou! ( he can't help it: his name just works onto his tongue whether he wants it to or not. ) Wait--
( there's another stifling crack of a bullet through the air; he immediately ducks, hiding behind the bannister of the stairs, but he can't tell if bakugou's hit, if it's struck wood and plaster again, if he's going to make it up to meet him. without thinking, he jerks and skids through the open doorway at the top; it's better to put space between them, he knows, and he knows that's the plan, knows that tactically it's better, but--
but his heart is rabbiting so fast that he feels like he can't breathe, and he immediately whips his head around to make sure that bakugou's following him. )
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Date: 6/12/24 00:03 (UTC)he's going to rip into that half-and-half bastard the second they're free enough to talk. how dare he roll over and show his fucking belly like he's ready to give it all up for him! there's so much more they can do together. he hated teamwork before, hated the idea of sharing his victory with others, hated the idea others could drag him down to fail. but u.a. didn't think like that; the values of teamwork were pounded in one time after another, with those shitty league of villains making the lessons stick despite their unwanted presence. todoroki's quick on the uptake, a testament to that skill he's honed in his body over the year. even if he prepared to sacrifice himself for an escape, he's taken that proverbial slap on the head and moved with it already. flexible. that's the kind of thing he demands from his partner. what a big-hearted idiot, ever willing to save others before himself, yet inspiring action with his own determination. he's proud of todoroki's quick thinking to make that opening, the way he communicated it, and how he responded to his refusal to abandon him. but that kind of thing will have to wait.
they're already going for weapons. these weaklings don't even have quirks suitable for battle. but dismissing that arsenal is a fool's mistake he isn't going to make. keep moving, shoulders swaying, head weaving side to side, deliberately making himself as mobile and unpredictable a target as possible. he should give thought to todoroki's arms and legs, whether his feet can carry him after being chained up like that. he should, but he won't and can't. they have to move. todoroki has to make his legs and feet do their job regardless of their feelings. focus on moving, focus on the exit, focus on me. quiet breaths tell him the other hero's on his tail, highlighted by a piercing whine of gunshots. nothing like a machine gun, luckily, so handguns at best. tiny spurts of debris spit against his cheek, barely missing his eye, yet he focuses only on todoroki and grabbing onto the hand now affixed into his.] Go!
[one day, he wouldn't have his quirk to rely on. so he made sure to train for that day too. only an idiot relies on his quirk 100% of the time and forgets about his own physical ability. muscles seize under his skin, biceps roaring as his back flexes under the demand of throwing todoroki over his shoulder and above him, even bracing his leg and spine in case the other boy's foot needs an instinctively brace to jump off of. you put your fucking ice spikes into his skin and he's gonna blast your face across the damn wall! HEAVE!! todoroki clatters against the railing amid more gunshots and he can't risk the time to make sure he's getting over. he has to trust him that he will. his own chains still gathered, he makes a break for the stairs nearby, clamoring up them two at a time.]
I said go! [don't you dare tell him to wait! blood spurts and his shoulder lurches forward, eyes widening as crimson trails through the air. fuck! he slams against the railing and bounces off without stopping, ignoring the piece through the meat of his shoulder. it didn't hit the bone. deeper than a graze, but nothing he won't heal from. todoroki's through the door, there's space between them, and the people in the warehouse are scrambling to chase them. he has to make it through the door! racing against his own throbbing heart, feet stomping across mesh flooring and concrete, he kicks down a pile of crates and grabs the doorframe with one hand, throwing himself through in a vicious swing. it's a straight hallway leading out into the attached building proper. good. if they can make it to a window, they should be able to crash through and get outside. he hears todoroki ahead of him, still running. bastards, looks like the majority of their workers were in the warehouse. it's not like they're stumbling into a fucking villain community.
heh... he can feel his quirk coming back too.]
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Date: 6/17/24 21:44 (UTC)it won't do anything. he thinks. even if the bullet didn't go clean through, even if it's lodged in there, somewhere in the muscle, nestled into the tissue, the worst that bakugou will have to go through will be some painful digging to get it out, and his arm might be stuck in a sling for awhile. it's nothing like the injuries they've already endured, not like it's the first time he's seen bakugou's blood splattered somewhere. he has to push past it, has to find his head again; is this why it had been so easy, not having feelings, before? so easy to push them down, to hide them away? had endeavor really been teaching him something--useful, doing that to him?
i said, go! bakugou yells at him, and angry, it moves him into movement. he continues forward down the hall, his eyes narrowed, his tongue full of all kinds of things he knows he won't say. at the end, it splits off into two paths, and he skids to a stop, hanging in against one side of the wall as he cradles an arm in around his stomach. it's going to be a nasty bruise, already aching from where he'd slammed and clamored over the railing, but it doesn't matter. rather than acknowledge anything, he immediately turns to bakugou. )
You go left. I'll go right. ( a gasping swallow, trying to catch his breath. oddly, he can feel his skin start to prickle with goosebumps; a sudden flush of heat, pouring through him, like his body's flooded with the release of the valve on his fire. his face flushes despite himself; on the right, a sudden jerk of icy chill, his body trying to find equilibrium. he could practically cry at the odd feeling. )
We circle around, keep going forward. ( if their quirks are coming back, then he's more suited to guarding, anyway. if he can get a few more minutes to get his body back to a happy balance, then he can put up an ice wall to stop their pursuit of at least bakugou's side. he's not going to tell him that he intends to do that, because he's pissed that bakugou's hurt on his behalf anyway, and he knows that his explosive boyfriend would just cut his head off here and now. ) Meet outside. Go.
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Date: 6/21/24 00:46 (UTC)he doesn't feel the bullet inside as his arm slings against his hips. he can still move his limb, there's no shredding or grinding that indicates he's tearing sinew against the shell edge or rasping the bone along the metal. but he's not looking at the mess of a wound either. pain is a dull throb, probably half-removed from it due to adrenaline and determination. his legs work, his arm works, and that's all he needs to advance. if they're crossing a hall into another building, then that speaks to a union they can take advantage of. with their quirks, they could've each broken free, but the sputtering sparks in his hand aren't offering to do anything more than light a fucking match.]
Like hell I am! Right! [he'll apologize to todoroki later for crushing his stomach against the railing back there. it's gonna be a hell of a bruise and the other hero's already short of breath for it. but the idea of splitting up? he can't stomach that. not when they're weakened and lost. they have to stay together in this mess, because separating in these conditions is a gamble he's unwilling to take. so they go right, even if he has to slam his un-injured shoulder against his boyfriend's to shove him down the right path. catching up isn't hard to do.]
Finally you have a better idea. [circling around, going forward. obvious choice. not that they'd be even this far if todoroki hadn't instigated the distraction earlier. he really owes his boyfriend for giving them that crucial chance. it's another reason he refuses to abandon him. splitting up earlier had been to divide their attention, but now they don't have that problem of being surrounded. visibly at least. meeting outside is an ultimate goal, but until they find out what they're in, they can't say they're anywhere close to outside. he can't recall seeing windows in the warehouse back there.
another set of double doors burst open and indeed, the second building adjacent to the warehouse spills out in front of them. or well, rises up, if that wall's any indication. it looks like a wall you'd find in an office building. carpeted floors. a fake plant at the end of the hall. glass-covered picture halfway down, two more hallways branching off elsewhere. a single office door built into the wall for the office inside. all quiet. old. probably abandoned if they notice the dust on the picture. that's odd... he shoves the doors shut behind them and locks them as best he can. the faint sound of yells and footsteps behind them indicate the chase is still going on.]
We need to find windows. [otherwise they'll get lost and run in circles within the interior.] Or stairs.
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Date: 6/30/24 21:45 (UTC)it's funny, then, the way that bakugou sparks his anger--the way that he pisses him off just by virtue of being so damn stubborn.
his lips part, then press together against a breath; he's not being listened to, and it's likely with good reason, he can understand that. better to keep them together, maybe, when they're injured like this, tired and sore and spattered with blood--but more than that, he thinks bakugou probably knows that he'd intended to stay behind, to cover bakugou's tracks, to make it harder for anyone to pursue him and push the onus onto his own back, instead. and like always, he knows that his boyfriend won't let that happen--just like their match, back during sports day, he wants things to be fair, to be even, for them to come together as equals rather than to have one of them handicapped in any way.
it doesn't do much for his attitude, though: just the briefest glimpse of that selfish, youngest sibling energy, a push of his mouth out and his eyes narrowed as he trudges forward down the right path, one arm still slung around his middle as though the pressure helps take the pain away from the blossoming bruise. )
Why don't you just come up with everything then... ( a quiet mutter, a little sulking--which is hilarious, given their predicament. literally have their kidnappers hot on their heels, and he's worrying about looking stupid in front of bakugou? it doesn't matter. with another swallow, he forces that feeling down, into the pit of his stomach; he waits, braces his shoulder against the double doors to help them push open.
an office building. his gaze goes up, then down, to the right, and then the left--he wets his lips, considers it again. )
If we hug the left side, we'll hit windows. Or the fire exit. ( he assumes, anyway--it's always better to keep a hand on the wall and follow it, rather than blindly trudge through room after room, hoping for a miracle; his gaze darts back to bakugou's wound, assessing, feeling that lump rise up in his throat, guilt and worry and another cool, quiet roll of anger, as though he should turn right around and face their enemies, rather than continue on an escape.
fire. his fingers flex, bending into his palm, but there's just the softest fizzle of heat, a little crackle of flame before it puts itself out. he'll need more time. )
You're taking the lead. ( this, he says firmly, at least--no arguments, his expression says, smooth and firm, brows knit together. ) Your arm's out of commission.
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Date: 7/10/24 23:16 (UTC)this is one of those moments where no amount of proof is going to convince his mind it's wrong. though he can understand todoroki's thought process behind splitting up, he can't stand the thought of being separated from him right now. they just escaped from being kidnapped, dammit! there's no way he's letting the other boy out of his damn sight! if something happens, they're going to deal with it together, with chances far greater than going at the unknown alone! it's not even the physical strain of their kidnapping that makes him so dogged about sticking to the pairing; it's the emotional. having been kidnapped before, much to his ire, he knows the kind of shit that goes through his head when escaping. panic, elation, fear, irrational decisions... yeah, he's not letting any of that screw over their escape.
that this makes it fair and even is a heavy undercurrent as well. he won't allow todoroki to hang back and cover them and hog all the glory of their escape to himself. (so he'll say later to cover up the fact he was afraid of losing the other boy again.) so they're going down the right path, screw whatever's down the left. if push comes to shove, he fully intends to attack the damn wall itself and try to break out through that. but given the office-building like appearance around them, they just have to make it out to the exterior of the structure.]
Dammit! You want me to listen to you, then come up with something better than splitting up! [any other time and he'd find his boyfriend sulking to be stupidly charming and cute. this is not the time. they're in serious danger and they don't have anything to rely on but themselves. injured, taxed, and fleeing. with a hard shove, he throws the two doors open with todoroki's help and barrels through. no time to try and barricade them to guard their rears. all they can do is shut it and lock it behind them. that should give them some time, provided these assholes don't just blow it up. shit...]
Che, finally have a good idea. [as much as he would love to turn around and blast their pursuers into a chummy smear across the wall, their quirks remain on the fritz, luckily waking up, but nowhere near useful in a fight. he turns from the door and heads forward, sticking to the left side as todoroki mentioned. the quicker they get out of here, the quicker they can handle his wound and leave the bastards behind them. he glances to the other boy, watching the fire in his hand flare, fizzle, and fade. hmph, it's there, but weak, just like his. they can't rely on their quirks right now.
but he does take the lead, using todoroki's advice without arguing. there's only a small growl about his arm, but it's true. he can use it as a desperate attack, but it won't be offering much in this condition. door after door, wall after wall, painting after painting, office after office, the same damn carpet. the urge to run is intense, but they can't get lost in here. left wall, left wall. something crashes far off and voices yell into the air. those assholes are through the door.
it almost wrenches a shout from his throat when he sees light spill out from around the corner, leading to a fleet of windows spanning cross the wall. but getting to them... a street, some trees, more buildings... and no less than five floors up in the air.
so much for breaking out and jumping. especially without their quirks. and yet... do they have another choice?]
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Date: 7/17/24 00:48 (UTC)so he lags behind him, letting bakugou scope out the path in front of them. past another few rooms, another hallway, and that panic starts to climb up his throat, starts to try to think of other options. he can't just leave bakugou here, he can't just let him bleed out, he can't just let this be the stupid end of something he should have never suggested. it all comes back to that love hotel and that night that they'd spent in literal ecstasy; but cursing himself for it with another drowning wave of guilt won't help things. his hand fists down at his side: flames, up his palm, then back out again, then up to his knuckles, then back out again. there's a frustrated breath from his lips, but he says nothing.
until bakugou sees something, and he's immediately closing the distance. windows. windows, and his heart bursts with relief, skidding in closer, drawing himself right up to the sill. a glance down tells him they're at least five floors up with nothing to brace their fall, at the bottom--which means that the only way out would be their quirks, since he's pretty sure that even if he stripped naked, the knotted rope of his clothes wouldn't even take them past another floor or two.
he's going to offer another idea that bakugou won't like: but his lack of patience, his need to take care of the one person he's had in a long time that makes him feel things, is too overwhelming. )
Break the window. ( slowly, quietly--he lifts his right hand, eyeing it, before he shakes his head. )
If I hold you, then we can make it. With ice.
( pointedly, he's not showing bakugou how little has come back--he just has to pray that his feet can do more than his hands, at this point. he's skated thousands of buildings, created huge monuments of ice just to ride them like a snowboarder, and this should be a piece of cake: but with precious cargo and a quirk that's just barely returning to his control, he's a little less confident. a little less sure that they'll make it to the ground. a little more grim, knowing that he'll have to cushion it when they fall somehow.
but he spent so long suppressing his fire: shouldn't that mean something? if his fire can work up to a blaze, now, at least in his hand, then--
his gaze narrows, and he holds his arms open as though in indication. )
You'll have to wrap your arms and legs around me.
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Date: 7/30/24 03:13 (UTC)he can't panic, he refuses to, all that creates is distraction from todoroki's freedom. like hell is he going to let those bastards touch his boyfriend again! the creeping thought of being hunted this entire time, perhaps even watched while he and the other teenager spent that entire night tangled up in each other so intimate and passionate, crawls through his flesh, making his stomach twist in a mixture of disgust and misplaced guilt. away! get the fuck away! he doesn't have the time or focus to spare on shit emotions like that! focus! focus on finding a way out! focus on light, on windows, on glass, on walls, anything that will spill into a way out. the faintest sparks spit in the center of his palm, but he can't put more force behind it to practice his current limit for concern of being heard.
finally! natural light strikes him in the face, causing a quick wince as he jerks his head to the side and averts his gaze, retinas momentarily scorched by the brilliance. one, two, three blinks before he's back to the window again. multiples of them, stretching out along the side of the building. broken up by walls, but windows all the same. he bites back a bark of triumph as his fingers slam into the latch, working the lock to free the window from its sill. they have a scant time to get it open before he has to break it and thus alert their pursuers of their whereabouts.]
You better be sure about this. [it's a threat as much as a warning and agreement because he instantly slams his elbow into the window, using his already-damaged arm rather than risk his remaining good one. the frame bends outward and the glass shatters into space with a loud crash. shouts ring out and a gunshot pierces the tension as footsteps rush through the halls, each one making their way closer to the two heroes. if todoroki has a plan, he can start enacting it now. there's no way his own quirk is awake enough to save them from that kind of fall. no trees, balconies, awnings, anything, to stop their fall. unless they want to drop-cling-drop between windows...] Ice?! You're not-!
[their quirks are still sputtering back to consciousness. his is at least. and yet, there's no mistaking the severity in todoroki's eyes. nothing there but a desperate determination. trust me. i can do this. it's right there in his stance, opened arms, focused gaze. this is their only chance. if he were someone else, he might quip about how wrapping his arms and legs around todoroki felt a lot better a few nights ago. but he's not someone else. instead, both strong arms and legs circle around the other hero and he tucks in close to his boyfriend's chest. if he summons as much power as he can muster, perhaps he can use his own quirk to cushion their fall at the end. but this is a gamble. there's no other choice. he tightens his limbs about todorki's chest and waist, instinctively avoiding interfering with his right leg. he needs his ice free.] Go!
[i trust you.]
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Date: 8/4/24 23:54 (UTC)it's harder when it's chaos.
he doesn't have the time to tell bakugou to brace his elbow into something--hell, he should have offered him the half-torn shirt off his back, at this point, should have offered him something to brace the impact. the glass shatters, chunks of it falling, pooling down five floors to the cement of a side alley below. with a deft hand, he punches out what's left on the frame: it leaves a few straggling pieces there, but he's just going to have to deal with it, if they get caught in his skin, in his clothes. there's a cacophony of sound somewhere down the halls behind them; a gunshot rings out, but it's errant, too far to do any damage to them, but the anger in those voices is real, a terrifying reminder of what could happen if he doesn't find the faith in himself to launch them out the window.
still, he swallows down his fear, his guilt, his worry--and lets bakugou climb up against his chest, helps him with steady hands to fit his arms and legs around him. he's not used to the extra weight, though he's carried others in their mock exams, assisted from behind in other circumstances; yet having bakugou's hot, well-muscled body pressed flush against him means he has to taper his steps to the windowsill, bracing his left foot up against it as he measures his breath. there's no time to feel the sickening lurch in his stomach as he looks down over the edge, no time to consider what will happen if he can't--because he can, because bakugou's trust is in him, and it's such a novel thing to think that bakugou would literally be willing to place his life in his hands.
another slow breath, and he pushes up, braces both feet against the ledge, feels for the sharp, broken side of the window and tips forward--and for one moment, one long moment, it feels like they're free falling.
his right leg skids, skips, braces against the side of the building, grappling for it--ice splutters out in short, small bursts of cold agony, twisting them, turning them as they fall, and he doesn't think of it, can't think of it, just lets his body feel for the limits, pushing them, locking his knee into place. it's somewhere around a floor from the bottom that his heel catches, locked into a sudden burst of ice that holds them there for a moment, almost hanging--and then his other foot blazes a soft splutter of fire, burning them out of the hold. by the time they're at the bottom, he's landing on his back, cracking into the cement with bakugou held away from the brunt of the fall--his shoulders scream, his chest aches, and it feels like the wind's knocked out of him with the impact: but for all that he can tell, they're still alive. something must have braced the worst of it, though he can't tell if it had been his own quirk or something bakugou had done around him. )
Can you...stand. ( his breath wheezes out of him, but his hold around bakugou loosens only slightly, so that he can climb up off of him and onto his feet again, proper--his eyes blink back a few tears of pain, steadying himself, but his hands and his fingers seem almost reluctant to let bakugou go entirely, as though he can't trust that if he isn't touching him, that he's okay. his elbow tries to find the ground beneath him, tries turning onto his side to pitch his weight onto his knees. ) I...know. We can't...stop.
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Date: 8/7/24 21:15 (UTC)dammit, if todoroki doesn't launch himself out this window in the next two seconds, he's going to throw his ass out and jump after him! foolishness and insistence play in his chest at clinging to the other man like this. how often has he felt the defined muscles of his boyfriend's chest and stomach pressed against his? felt the beating of his heart and the clenching of his abdominal wall sliding along his own. a flash of lewd memory scants across his brain, completely unwanted in this harrowing moment. fuck, seriously? gone again as a foot braces on the windowsill and todoroki leans out over the empty spans below them. fabric crushes in his fists, dragging at the torn shirt covering the other hero's shoulders and back. go. jump, dammit! you have to fucking move NOW! trust can only go so far when it's held back by indecision. there's no more time to think. MOVE!!
whoosh~ suffocating building air trades in a flash for open air, fresh wind and the scent of metal-clogged trees. they're out, falling down in a rush. one floor blitzes past them, taking window and cement wall across his eyes. ice cracks and snaps, that sputtering sing of todoroki's echoing winter stomp, before it splits off like a trip down the side of a building. twisting in the air, gripping at him hard, he curses in his mind at the approaching impact. sparks pop and flare a singe in the boy's shirt, his quirk coming back online for another sputter. he has to use it! if he can get his hand between them and the ground, he can ignite an explosion to bounce them back up before the-
oof! the world snaps his head backwards, a whiplash cracking his brain into his fucking skull, and they're jerked to a stop. he doesn't even want to know what was just done to todoroki's leg to anchor them like that. flames spew a gout and the ice breaks free, sending them down again, a staccato bounce the last floor before they reach bottom. shit, todoroki's going to hit the ground first! taking the brunt of everything. like hell! shoving one hand over his back, the other sliding to grip the back of his boyfriend's head to protect it from the impact, he spreads his fingers and concentrates as hard as possible. focus, condense, release! sput spit spark crack snappzle ssBOOM! an explosion recoils behind the falling hero, momentarily breaking their fall for a split second, as if crashing through an awning. before todoroki hits the ground with a thud he feels resonate clean through his own flesh, caught within his arms and legs to keep him safe. that's going to leave a mark in the morning. but thanks to the desperate explosion and frantic catch-release of ice, a five-story fall concludes with a half-story crash into the pavement. nothing two young men who've been punched through concrete buildings can't shakily walk off. but they're alive. that's what matters.]
Yeah. I can. [boots grit against the ground, knees scraping on the pavement, as he dismounts the other hero. a sharp bite in the heel of his hand earns a snarl, quickly picking out the bit of glass. no more of this. throwing it aside, he stands to his feet, staggered and wobbly, but stomping a foot down to stop himself from stumbling. brace it. hold. then move. reaching, he grabs todoroki's arm and pull, hauling him up as much as helping him. he has to get his arm around him, his own limb hooking about narrow hips to pull his boyfriend close to him.] We have to move. C'mon. Lean on me or I'll fucking carry you.
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Date: 8/15/24 21:59 (UTC)one arm loops around bakugou's shoulders, steadying himself--he can feel the arm at his back, hooked around to hold his hip, and a part of him, stubbornly, forces himself forward a few steps, as though reassuring him that he's just fine. )
You don't...have to carry me. ( it comes out as heated grumbling--bakugou's the one that should be carried, damn it, he has a bullet wound, and here he is knocking into his side, dragging himself along as they move further away from all the glass, a bit of blood, and the remnants of bakugou's explosion into the cement. with an agitated breath, he bows his head in, swallowing, nodding ahead of them as though in indication. )
Just a little further. There's a payphone. We can call...
( --his tongue stalls there, breath panning out across his lips: who should they even go for, first? the police, maybe, but getting through might be difficult; and then there's the school, the principal, or even aizawa-sensei, or should they bite the bullet and call for endeavor? would any of these be faster than calling for an ambulance? that might just get them into more trouble, if their kidnappers are still in pursuit.
wincing his eyes shut, he forces himself to stand up straight, sloping his arm down, away from bakugou's shoulders; the further they get from the building, the less he feels like they're being pursued, but he hasn't had the strength to whip around to look behind them just yet. )
...You can call. ( he decides, finally, as they come up towards the end of the block. it'll be safer to have bakugou inside the phone booth; he's so stubbornly wrapped up in the thought of protecting the person that he--the person that--his boyfriend that he can't think of anything else; his jaw is set, eyes flanked with pained determination. there are very few things that he's grateful for, when it comes to his father, but his stubbornness is perhaps one of the few things he's relieved that he possesses, at times. ) I'll watch your back. Don't argue with me.
( and then, as though to make good on the threat, his right hand lifts: an icy cool breeze wafts off his palm, fingers clouding up with the beginning chills of a glacier. ) Or I'll have to put something over your wound to staunch it.
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Date: 8/25/24 00:31 (UTC)he finds the curve of todoroki's side, cups a hand over it as he braces the hero's back with his arm slung across in a slant, cutting along his shoulder blade and spine to give him a grip. hefting the fabric of his shirt in one hand, the other reached up to grab onto his boyfriend's arm as it loops round his neck. move. he tells his legs to move.]
Shut up. You're the one who's half-roadkill. [does todoroki really think he's going to let him be the one to burden himself with weight again after taking it on his front a few seconds ago? the blood running down his arm has mostly clotted by now, occasion small leaks pushing through whenever his bicep flexes. fighting against the blood loss as much as todoroki is struggling against his bruised back and whatever bruised or broken ribs he has inside.
call? shit, a crossroad. do they stop long enough to call someone? or do they keep pushing ahead until the reach a safe spot to call? the payphone stands alone in a booth, offering quick contact immediately, but no protection from other witnesses or surrounding structures. and who to call first? the police, of course, but fighting through the call center amid the sordid state of japan right now is a risk. their classmates are also a risk, since any of them they call might not be available to answer. aizawa-sensei or all might had the highest chance of picking up from the teachers, though endeavor would pick up for todoroki without fail, if the other hero wanted to stomach his pride and animosity.
their pursuers haven't jumped out the window yet, probably running down the stairs to get to the outside. he strains his ears to listen for anything that indicates they're still the prey, footsteps or echoes, car tires screeching or engines starting, or even bullets firing at them. are these people really just going to let them go? then again, if this place is located in a residential area, noise would draw attention, and neither of the heroes are hard to recognize.]
Bastard... [throwing the decision to him with that kind of threatening compromise twisted into being. his eyes narrow, glaring daggers at todoroki for thinking ahead of him and realizing he planned to shove his boyfriend into the booth for protection. for a few seconds, there's a war, sparking and flaring between them in a struggle for who would win. but in the end, the blonde capitulates with a growl and wrenches open the phone booth. fine, he'll make the damn call.]
If you hear anything, get inside the damn booth. [that's his only counter order as he grabs the phone off the hook. todoroki can work on icing over his wound in the meantime. ah fuck! there's no way to actually pay for the damn thing. neither of them have their wallets, licenses and cards left behind with those bastards who pawed through their belongings. immediately it limits their options to one thing: emergency call. so he does, punching in the numbers and pulling the phone to his ear. all payphones still allow emergency calls to go through, no charge. and like that, it's picked up, a harried operator on the other line.
who probably has a heart attack from the information spilled over the phone. where are they? he has no fucking idea. neither the building(s) nor the carport are labeled with numbers, but it doesn't look a derelict or abandoned place. screw looking for a street name, he growls at the operator to track the number he's calling from and cross reference it with the payphone directory. it takes a minute for the other person to actually do that before word comes back to their location. nowhere even near the fucking love hotel he and todoroki staked out. they're halfway across the fucking city, far from u.a. as well. snarling, he demands to know the location of the nearest police station, then tells the operator to send officers towards their location. fuck no they're not going to stay where they are! there are people after them! send the cops, they'll meet them on the way, and keep to a straight line!] North east, we're going that way.
[and indicates the direction around the carport beside them. luckily they're not heading back towards the building they just escaped from. he leaves the phone off the hook, letting the police continue to trace the call even as he exits the phone booth.] Lets go.
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Date: 9/1/24 02:14 (UTC)luckily, bakugou relents before he can waste his breath. he doesn't smile, doesn't gloat over the victory--it's a solemn nod he offers, taking bakugou's words in stride, and once he's inside the booth, he reaches with one hand, gently icing over the latch. it'll melt, break apart as soon as bakugou pushes the door to exit: but for now, it feels like an extra measure of safety that he desperately needs to feel like he's in control. his ribs ache, his back twinges in agony, and he keeps one arm looped around his middle, breathing into it, casting his gaze to their surroundings.
the street sign must be behind them. he doesn't recognize any of the taller buildings in the distance, doesn't recognize any of the smaller shops along the street. he doesn't know the name of the nearby apartment building, either, and the few cars that pass by them go too quickly for him to fully read the license plates; maybe that's the exhaustion settling in, something that he fights by gripping his hand more firmly at his side. within the booth, he can hear bakugou commanding the person on the other line, demanding and firm, and it makes his shoulders slump; it's a relief to know that he actually got through to someone.
by the time bakugou drops the receiver, letting it swing on the line, he's already nearly warmed the ice off the latch of the door with his back pressed against it; he forces himself to straighten, turning to look at him with another solemn nod. )
That way. ( he agrees, in a soft wheeze of breath--and he waits, pointedly, for bakugou to take the first few steps before he falls in beside him, lagging behind just a half a beat in order to ensure that he watches his back. there's nothing he can hear behind them, even as they move forward; there's no sound of footsteps on the sidewalk, or the sound of a gun cocking, but he keeps his gaze moving, keeps his focus on their surroundings rather than any pain or exhaustion. it's funny, how tiring it feels to get his quirk back: but how relieving it is, to feel it at his fingertips again, like a lost limb returning back to its rightful place. ) Bakugou...
( it feels safe enough to say it--to give him a look, briefly, another once over like he can't quite believe that he's upright and walking next to him, as they continue forward. he thinks he can hear sirens in the distance, but it's hard to know if that's just his wishful thinking. ) Are you hurt anywhere else? You didn't hit the glass--or anything?
( he's trying to make a list, for their inevitable rescue: to be able to clearly define to the paramedics and police officers the sort of help that bakugou needs. if anything, he'll be demanding they see to him first; the bullet wound might be drying out, some, but it's still severe enough that it worries him, angers him, makes his stomach clench in disquiet. )
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Date: 9/7/24 00:14 (UTC)another time and he might have found todoroki's icy lock on the door a charming security. meaning little to any physical effort, yet cute for the implication it provides. he'll have to remember it later and comment when they're safe. as he talks on the phone, he props it against his shoulder and head, giving himself time and limb room to check on the injury festering pain atop his upper arm. the wound's a mess, torn skin open all the way to the surface. it's not another hole through his body, but it'll leave a mark if he doesn't get it treated and healed fast. gritting against the pain, he recounts their situation and as best approximated location to the dispatcher, snarling when he has to reveal how to track the fucking payphone. gonna rage at the cops to make sure everyone on the dispatch is aware of how to do that in the future! just because cellphones are rampant, that doesn't mean payphones are obsolete or extinct! SOME HEROES CHANGE INTO THEIR COSTUMES IN THESE!!
none of this place is familiar to him. which quickly makes sense given the reveal of their location via the dispatcher's search. wait- a car just drove by?! he grits his teeth at the new change. it looked like the place was deserted earlier, but indeed, the sound of vehicles is there. a road's nearby. (duh, they're on a street.) maybe a small neighborhood street passing by this warehouse + office combo? part of him wants to tell todoroki to get a car's attention. he's famous enough to be seen and recognized. but that would require the other hero to leave him here in the booth and that's not going to happen. shit, relegate that to step two. leaving the receiver down and off the hook, it ensures the dispatch is still online and present. if someone chasing them picks up the line to see who they called, maybe that will stall them for a few precious seconds.]
Aa. Move it. [hearing todoroki's breath struggling through his lungs pumps adrenaline through him, fueling his anger, fear, determination, and drive. he has to keep them moving. one step at a time, leaning forward as if the weight of his head and shoulders will pull him further when his legs don't want to. his eyelids droop slightly and he shoves them open again with a snarl. piss off! he's not tired! he's dealt with worse blood loss than this, after shigaraki skewered him in the first war. and he could move and survive with that damage. this is nothing! he'll have time to bleed out when todoroki is safe. a quiet, deep voice carries his name behind him, reminding him of their trips to remediation classes when he demanded the other boy get behind him. tch, fucking irony.] What?
[keep walking. keep moving. don't stop. each press of his foot to the ground is another proof they're getting out of this alive. as fast as he can force his body to go, faster through the road, around the corner, towards the open street that reaches for another road further ahead. they could hitch a ride with someone, the odds of landing in the same care as one of their pursuers is extremely low... depending on the rate of vehicle flow up here. but the police are coming to intercept them. they can't be stuck in a damn car. distant sires call his attention and he lifts his head to try and locate their direction. another question, more worry and concern.] Of course not! I hit you, ya damn mattress-roki!
[yeah, definitely not mad that his boyfriend took the impact for him or anything. if he was injured elsewhere, he wouldn't tell him right now. it would only make todoroki worry about him more and try to take the burden of supporting him when he was struggling on his own. he'll tell the officers and paramedics instead. the other hero can grump at him later for not saying anything.
it's when he hears an engine roar behind him that he reaches back to grab his boyfriend's collar. no time to stagger and hurt now. as soon as that noise bares it's teeth, he runs. fuck the pain, fuck the blood, if his muscles don't want to work, he forces them to! if todoroki stumbles, he drags him along with pure strength, refusing to let him fall. they have to move! whatever took those people this long to get into a vehicle is unknown, but any inch they can put between themselves and someone coming after them, the better. move, dammit! one foot in front of the other! move!]
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Date: 9/12/24 22:02 (UTC)a hard swallow, and he continues moving. he knows better than to stop: even if it's just to intercept the police, or the ambulance, before they get too far away, it's worth it to stay upright; he's worried what might happen, if bakugou skids down onto his knees, if he loses feeling, if he starts to feel tired, worn out, unable to keep his eyes open. his fingertips clench tight again, a little shiver of cold that he pumps through his own body, to keep his own eyes narrowed and clear-headed; they can round the corner, get a little further, and maybe then the sirens will be closer, and maybe then he can take in a full breath, instead of the staggered panting he's kept to maintain some shallow amount of pain.
and then there's the tires squealing, an engine roaring--and bakugou's hand, reaching for him, and he doesn't even have to ask. like clockwork, his feet fall into step with bakugou's stride, an immediate bolt into running, despite the way his lungs ache, despite the way his stomach feels like it might just bottom out. rather than look ahead of them, he's looking around, looking off to the side--and his hand reaches to fist up bakugou's shirt and immediately drag him sidelong, stumbling slightly along the sidewalk. )
Here. ( panted out, the words come like a desperate wheeze: but with his hand fisted up tightly in the fabric, now, all it takes is a kick of his foot to skid his ice behind him, and with it, take bakugou whether he wants to come or not. ) Now!
( adrenaline chills, an icy calm that feels as familiar as the sting of cool snow through his skin; a tight alley, between the end of a parking garage and another office lobby on the side, affords darkness, at least, and he realizes it only after that little kick off: if he leaves ice behind, it'll just give them away. his hand in bakugou's shirt pushes him, practically throwing him into the shadow of the alley, into the trash cans lined up there and the sturdy black box of a dumpster, or maybe an air conditioner unit, he isn't sure.
a sweep of his other arm out to throw a splutter of fire along the ground--it burns out the ice, but there's nothing he can do about the wet spots on the cement; they'll just have to risk that it'll look like the usual wear and tear, as he rounds himself into the alley after bakugou, immediately crouching down. )
Put your hand over your arm. Do it. Press down. ( a low, quiet command: it's for bakugou's sake as much as it is to not leave any spatter of blood behind. his bowed head nods forward, towards the shadows further down the alley-- ) We can't...We'll have to wait. For the...ambulance.
( his head feels a little fuzzy--maybe it's better that bakugou's quirk is coming back slowly, he's starting to feel sick from the exertion; maybe it's just his body still adjusting to the temperate flows of hot and cold, and he lifts up a hand to push his bangs away from his face--they're sticky with sweat. ) Should be fine... I can be...mattress-roki...again.
( said solemnly, it doesn't even sound like a joke. if bakugou ends up needing to lie down, he's not going to have him lying on the dirty cement. they need to keep that wound as clean as possible. )
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