Hi Tumblr, Its Been A Few Years. Me And My Artist Friends Animated This ENTIRE TOURNAMENT For You Guys

The teacher's lounge is blissfully quiet and seemingly empty when the door shuts and locks with a click behind you. There's no one sitting at the computers, the couches are unoccupied, and the coffee machine is still and cold. You'd come in search of a reprieve, and can't help but sigh and sag with relief upon finding it.

Sometimes the teacher's lounge is just as bad as anywhere else.

Just as bad as the classrooms, the cafeteria, the gymnasiums. Just as bad as the library, the courtyard, the hallways. Just as bad as the bathrooms.

You love your job, you really do.

But sometimes you wonder if you shouldn't have sough employment elsewhere. Maybe at a more normal highschool. Or, maybe even for a lower grade. Maybe one before quirks start manifesting in most children. Not that quirks are a problem.

It's just that, when combined with big dreams and budding hormones, it tends to be a bit...much.

You don't know how the rest of the staff does it.

Granted, almost every other staff member is also a Pro-Hero. Which isn't to say teaching is any easier for any of them, but they sure do seem to handle the stress of it a whole lot better than you can. Do. Ever will. And all you are is an assistant.

Then again, you are Aizawa's assistant.

And his class is...it's something else.

Which is why you've gone and run off to the teacher's lounge. You adore the kids, you really do! For the most part! As much as you can, anyways. Considering none of them are really yours and they're constantly making Aizawa's life, and subsequentially your life, something close to a living hell.

You've considered resigning. You know there's an ample amount of other schools that would probably happily scoop you up. And, maybe if it was earlier in the year, you would have. But, that was before...

Oh.

Well.

That was before you met the puffy, yellow, man-sized lump apparently hiding behind one of the couches. Aizawa.

Or, here, behind closed doors, Shouta.

Sometimes.

It's not a surprise to see him there.

Not in the lounge, or on the floor, with his favorite sleeping bag zipped all the way up to his heavy and slightly bruised eyes closed. He practically lives in the lounge; spends more time in here than the classroom or his own apartment. He's obviously squeezing a nap in, for as long and deep as he can. And you can tell he's asleep, really asleep, because his mouth is just slightly open.

After working with him for as long as you have, which really isn't long, but long enough -- you know that when he sleeps, he breathes in through his mouth and out through his nose. Like even when unconscious, he's subconsciously still trying to meditate. Trying to relax.

Trying to do the same thing you are.

It's precious.

And a little pathetic, but you know better than to ever admit that out loud.

You teeter on your feet for a second, while he continues to sleep and split his breathing. You think that maybe you should leave, that maybe you'll get lucky and find some other pocket of tranquility somewhere. You don't want to pop this one. But, he hasn't woken up yet, so you figure it's probably safe to stay. It's not like you're going to make a whole lot of noise, anyway -- sitting on the couch and filling out some forms. One part of your job is keeping track of each individual student's quirk record; obvious strengths, weaknesses, growths, injuries, incidents. It's exhausting work, but work better done by you, so that Shouta can actually work with those kids and their quirks.

When you pick a spot on a sofa, Shouta doesn't even twitch. And when you pluck the pen from behind your ear and start scrawling away, the sound of scratching ink is barely any louder than his own breathing. Feeling confident that you won't wake him up, you settle into your work.

Anyone else coming into the lounge is, sadly, out of your control.

You get through updating about three forms when the sound of shifting fabric snags your attention. You peer around the couch across from you, just far enough to see that yes, Shouta is still sleeping, he's just moved around a bit. You hold your breath, and watch as a wrinkle that formed in his nose slowly soothes itself away. The zipper of his sleeping bag now runs down the length of the front of his body, instead of the side. You reckon it's more comfortable that way, and you wonder if he's dreaming. And if so, what he's dreaming about.

It's a curiosity that's often hard to quell, since that's your thing after all. Your quirk. The reason you even landed the job that you did. You can see people's dreams, and then project them. Furthermore, you can sometimes even influence them, with a strong bond and some practice. You aren't anything close to a qualified therapist or counselor, but...heroes suffer nightmares. Every single one of them. And, the idea is that - the hope is that -- you can help them. With that. Their bad dreams. Their nightmares. Their night terrors. Prevent sleep paralysis and insomnia and panic attacks. You haven't tried yet, not with a single student, but you'd had to prove yourself to Principal Nezu during your interview. He'd been impressed and pleased.

And Shouta had been intrigued.

For now, you've just been working as an assistant, and building rapport with the students. After all, the stronger and healthier the bond, the more you'll be able to help. And you want to help, you do. Even if you don't necessarily...like using your quirk. It always feels like an invasion of privacy, even with blatant permission and consent. People can't help what they dream. Sometimes they want to know, and you have to figure out how to tell them. Sometimes you don't want to tell them. Sometimes they don't ask, and it's better that they forget, which they usually do.

You, on the other hand?

You never forget.

At least not quickly.

Not without a drink or two and a damn good distraction.

Does Shouta suffer nightmares? Surely he does. But, you hope that on the rare occasion he actually reaches REM, like he might be reaching now, that he doesn't. If he dreams at all, you hope it's a good dream. But, what would a good dream look like for him?

...cats, probably. Lots and lots of cats. And having a body that was more blood than caffeine. Or, maybe having the body of a cat. Maybe a good dream for Shouta involved some fur and a long tail and a good sunny spot to soak in. You laugh silently as you picture it. Yeah, you could see that.

omg someone reblogged my deacon post and said he’s a horrible liar and i could not agree more!!!

especially i think after he gets comfortable with someone truly and deeply, and he lies about something and because the SoleSurvivor is like his closest companion (the love of his life perhaps) they know he’s lying. and they stare at him, and he stares back blankly, then his mouth starts to twitch, forcing back a smile. his eyes will flick away from theirs and he’ll quickly turn around and walk away as he tries to pull it together and Sole is left laughing at how ridiculous he is.

i also imagine that’s why he’s so paranoid about giving you his “reset code” bc he set up a great lie (not really lol) and now he’s scared that Sole is gonna think he’s a complete ass for lying about that when it’s meant to be a test and a joke. I personally haven’t read it in my play though so he’s always coming up to me asking frantically if i’ve read it and my Sole just looks at him with the most amused look bc he KNOWS deacon is full of shit, so he doesn’t even bother to read the code.

He’s also a bad liar because he just goes too hard on the details and everyone can tell when he’s starting to make things up. it’s less lying and more, embellishments, at least that’s how he likes to look at it. When he talks about Sole though, oh my god the other members of the railroad can’t tell if he’s being funny or if he’s truly in love with this person. the way he tells tales of their heroism, saving his life and wiping out thousands of synths and raiders, just sweeping him out of harms way.

this is of course only when Sole is not around. and if anyone slips out word about deacon’s damsel in distress stories, he’d deny it until his last breath. red in the face and unable to meet their eyes when they ask with a teasing tone, a flat “No.” drops out of him before he scatters to find who the hell told Sole about that.

so yeah, deacon truly is more himself than he ever means to be and i love that loser so much <3

New input detected.

i just feel like “what if the trauma we go through is usually not noble but purposeless and terrible and the things we develop to keep us alive often change us for the worse” is one of the most important realizations you can come to in terms of like. empathizing with your fellow man and yet whenever that theme shows up in fiction so many people are immediately like its either PERFECT VICTIM OR IRREDEEMABLY EVIL. open the door and walk out of the dichotomy

OTHER THAN A VAMPIRE OBVS i think he would be a hamster! not bc i think that's what he would dress up as for halloween, but bc that's what i want him to dress up as for halloween :) lmao here's also a bonus doodle of him dressed as a bat <3 bc i think he's cute <3

yeah uh... don't do this :)

The Audience’s Eyes

“This wouldn’t have been possible without you!”

sorry I’m a kiibo stan account now lmaoo. The last trial just. He didn’t deserve. Everything bad that could’ve happened to him happened and it’s wronggg

Danganronpa

↑ Sort by height

i might spam a bit for a while i have SO MUCH TO SHARE!!!

I'm thinking ab making charms/stickers what are we thinking squad

Mondo being buff 'n aggro but also being a big, flustered mess will never fail to amuse me