Who wants to see the horrible, horrible family tree I made for my BNHA fic?
(With ~many~ spoilers for the fic.)
Three likes is all the encouragement I need! Behold!
I should probably try to add arrows to this at some point.
Who wants to see the horrible, horrible family tree I made for my BNHA fic?
(With ~many~ spoilers for the fic.)
Three likes is all the encouragement I need! Behold!
I should probably try to add arrows to this at some point.
See more posts like this on Tumblr
#bnha #reblog #family treehaha hey—quick question...
(spoilers for @five-rivers' incredible BNHA fic Long Night in the Valley on ao3)
Putting this under a readmore for potential spoilers.
Behold, my attempt to rectify the appalling lack of into the mind fics in the BNHA fandom. :P
.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
He stood on top of the stairs to the beach, looking down on them. With the sun rising behind them, his pupils were pinpoints, his irises shockingly bright. He wore a thin windbreaker over a t-shirt that read ‘tracksuit’ and a pair of sweatpants with his signature red shoes. His expression was strangely flat and blank. He had never looked at them like that before.
“Deku?” said Ochako, uncertainly, taking a step forward, her hand half raised, as though she could reach him despite being so far away.
The commission instructor flung out an arm, stopping her. He was staring up at the boy, too, his eyes blown wide, lips pulled back with something like worry, something like fear, and something like avarice. “Whatever that is,” he said, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku.”
There’s this fic called Long Night in the Valley by @five-rivers that is AMAZING
I have read it thousands of times and I never get tired of it, perhaps I’ll make more fan art of it lol, i just love it that much
THE DISGUISES. THE FEATHERS.
This is great? Can I scream about how great this is?
It’s probably mean of me, but remembering bald Toshinori always gives me a kick.
Who wants to see the horrible, horrible family tree I made for my BNHA fic?
(With ~many~ spoilers for the fic.)
Long Night in the Valley is finally complete! The sequel is currently in the works, although it will probably be a while before I post anything.
The scene shifted the moment Tempest woke up. They were outside, on a street in the middle of the city. Storm clouds circled overhead.
Tempest stood in front of them, hands in her pockets, a bland expression on her face.
“So,” she drawled. “You’re Nine’s friends.”
“Uh,” said Ochako, taken aback. Right after Four had said she wouldn’t talk to them, this was disconcerting. “Yes?”
“I’m his teacher,” said Aizawa, stepping forward.
“Yeah? You think you’re doing a good job raising up little child soldiers?”
A young man walked in. His hair was dark, the style conservative. The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket.
Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner.
Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism. It hadn’t been published until his death.
The lights flickered. The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana. The projector screen changed. It now read:
Greetings 9’s Friends! (And teacher.)
Trigger warning for suicide and suicide baiting. Starts and ends at the * asterisks.
.
There was something wrong with the school. Other than it being entirely within Midoriya’s head. It was… ominous. Foreboding. The way the walls joined together was wrong. The colors on the posters clashed. The incomprehensible background noise made by the bright blurs was jeering, mocking.
It reminded Aizawa too much of his old school, the one he went to before UA. Of the looks and the hate he got just because his quirk frightened people.
But Midoriya had a straightforward physical quirk. Correction: he appeared to have a straightforward physical quirk. Even if he’d had the bone breaking problem, he shouldn’t have experienced anything like that.
Aizawa was shoved, hard, from behind, and that shouldn’t have knocked him off balance, but it did. He tumbled, painfully, to the ground. There hadn’t been anyone there to push him.
Except the blurs.