#just not in the heroics field we focus on

[epickiya722]

I have thoughts!

I doubt Izuku went eight years being Quirkless.

For one thing, after the Final War, he still had two years of high school left. I doubt all that time he used One For All continously when he have to focus on schoolwork and had more time to actually wind down since the major villains of the story have been dealt with. So there would be times he wouldn't have to use OFA like that.

Last chapter, we can see he still has OFA.

I would say it would be more recently that he lost OFA.

Note that here, Izuku says "recent times". This is just happening now that his class has reached their goals of what they wanted to accomplished. From Ochako and the others creating a program to help people to Mezo getting an award.

When this came...

I figure this can interpreted as Aizawa asking about his Quirk and being a Hero on the field or just his time in school when everything was happening.

Why some of the fandom took this as abandonment is beyond me. "We started working..."

Folks, Class A would be 24 - 25 years old... they would have just started to be Pro Heroes probably three years or later if you consider their "college years" would be the time they would be sidekicks and working to having their own agencies. Probably some of then even living together to save money and whatnot.

A teacher is fitting for Izuku as he is still encouraging others and it reflects even how All Might, his mentor, was one. He knows he'll be Quirkless again, a job as a teacher is ideal for him.

You need a bachelor's degree to be a teacher, which takes four years. So from probably age 18 to 22, Izuku worked for that degree to be a teacher. Meaning that time, he necessarily didn't have to use OFA, if he still had it. And he could have also been doing the sidekick thing on the side.

Present Mic is an example of a character who has multiple occupations, so I don't doubt that Izuku couldn't have done sidekick work and studies at the same time.

Therefore, he would have been a teacher for 3 years at the moment at this point.

Now, given that a school like UA exists, where they taught Heroics, business, engineering, etc. There could have been colleges like that. So class A could have went to the same college and still hung out, including Izuku.

Point is what I'm saying is, because of what Izuku's schedule may have looked like, I doubt he lost the embers of OFA that fast. Yes, he most definitely lost them, but like overnight? Yeah, no.

And him being abandoned? Some of you took a hold of the steering wheel and whipped it way too hard to the left. They definitely still talked. They just got busy with their jobs and hectic schedules.

"How dare they not tell Izuku about the project?!"

... IT WAS A PLEASANT SURPRISE, HELLO?! Have none of you gotten something nice as a surprise before???

[midnight-in-town]

Ao no Exorcist is a Shonen series written by a woman and it shows

Since the latest chapter, I've been thinking about how several usual Shonen tropes are written rather differently under Kato-sensei's pen. No judgement or anything, it's just cool to observe. Some examples :

1) Rin's mentor is a woman

2) Rin's secret, despite being the MC, was revealed in ch13 to the entire cast, meanwhile Shiemi, The Main Girl, who was introduced to be so helpless is only starting to be explained.

3) Also, the Mysterious plot-relevant Shonen Parent is actually the twins' mother. (Of course Shiro is super plot-relevant too, but Satan is still angsting over Yuri and she's a huge part of the reason why he's the big bad)

4) Rin also changed his view about his future throughout the story: from dropping out of school, passing by hoping to become the Order's Paladin (probably to cope with Shiro's death and also to antagonize Arthur), to finally showing way more interest and potential in the (less epic and heroic in appearance) field of talismanic cooking.

5) When it comes to arcs, mental illness is a valid reason to build a character arc around...

6) And so is making an arc about girls being "cursed" to basically "get married and have children before they hit 30, the age where their beauty fade thus they become useless" :

7) ANE is a story about women becoming traitors to protect their loved ones, like Mamushi

or becoming overwhelmed because men toyed with their feelings like Tamamo

8) Older women can be absolute badasses like Shiemi's grandma

or Lucy.

9) Complicated mother-daughter relationship and girl friendships are given as much focus as complicated father-son relationships and sweet bro friendships (like Bon and his dad during the Kyoto arc, as well as the complicated but deep bond between the Kyoto Trio)

10) And one of my favorites: full time single dad, asking for help to do the job as well as he can and finding his true purpose in life by doing so :D

Hmm and now that I think about it, the only other Shonen series written by a woman I've been as invested in is Kuroshitsuji, by Yana Toboso, and similar examples can be found in it too, namely:

1) If Ciel ever finally admits needing a mentor, his aunt Frances will probably play that role

2) Girls can be super strong & skilled (Elizabeth, Mey Rin) and clever (Sieglinde)

3) (one part of) the Big Bad is a woman (Queen Victoria)

4) maybe Ciel's entire revenge stems from a conflict between Queen Victoria and Ciel's maternal grandmother, Claudia.

5) the Undertaker has been a continuously freaking pain in the ass because he probably fell in love with that same maternal grandmother and couldn't mourn properly

TL;DR we love our boys and their spectacular growth and development under women's pens a.k.a shonen series written by ladies are hella fun to read. :D

[comfortless]

so. please consider: König is a prince (yeah we aren’t going full king this route, maybe he has an older brother or some complications having the throne to himself but either way he has some power just not all of it lol) and reader is part of a performing troupe that usually acts out plays outside of the castle. he goes out to watch them and becomes so desperate for her that he gets /her/ to perform as /him/ when the plays are about his heroic deeds or whatever.

i have had this idea stuck in my head for days and i just know you can bring it to life 🩵

the evil little König in my head took over. no one look at me. 🥩🏰

prince!König x fem reader.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. dubcon. mentions of adultery (not committed by reader or König), corruption kink (virgin!König), cunnilingus, light roleplay, scent & praise kink, smut (piv), reader is kind of evil here (König still manages to be worse), allusions to abduction.

“You are certainly lovelier than my wife, the Queen!”

He had his sword drawn, not high enough to elicit panic, but just enough to know that yes, there was a very present threat. This could be a bloodbath in an instant. Speak another word — he won’t refrain. He feels his teeth grit, grating, ash in the mouth and in the air.

The actors are unaware where they are stood on stage, and the mass of bodies surrounding barely take note of their Prince. A phantom. Loathed thing that he has always been. More hated than even their lecherous, stupid king. There’s only one thing he’s good for and it’s never been politics; there’s no need to garner up public appeal when your stage is a foreign field littered with blood and corpses.

Another insult to his poor mother and the city could be one too.

From a small wooden booth acting as a prop depiction of a brothel, steps a woman. Barefoot, bare flesh, the only thing she wears is a breast band and a loincloth of finely stitched lace. She isn’t a whore, not in truth, but she looks the part of the women his men rush to the second they’ve returned home. Ale and sex in abundance, and he’s never had the focus for the latter after a round of the former.

He watches as she sways, draws her hand to her forehead and bats her lashes while her other trails up her thigh to the hem of the piece concealing her womanhood. She stops with a laugh, turns to the crowd with sparkling eyes and says, “You lot should not cheer! The Queen surely deserves better than a womanizing fool!”

König’s never been one for plays, how tactlessly they slander the royal family and make jest of current affairs. This troupe, though… he thinks it’s done in taste. Or maybe it’s just her.

Even as the aging performer with his weathered face and messy gray beard acting the part of his father rushes to the pretty thing on stage and paws at her waist, König can not tear his eyes away.

The scene reaches its end when the brothel is burned, enacting something horrible the king had done several springs ago. Bereaved, the woman returns to the stage and bares her breasts, monologuing so sweetly as she feigns tears for her fallen sisters.

König swears to be nothing like his father but he still finds his trousers fitting more tightly at the sight, not foul enough to touch himself here, if ever at all. His heart aches with each fragile word spilled from those plush lips, and his cock demands further engagement with each gentle sway of her body and heave of her round tits.

His sword slots back into place at his hip when the scene comes to an end: the crowd a storm of laughter, the fire of the torches illuminating the street flickering, the actors dissipate behind the wooden stage, and all at once the play is over.

Tactless and impulsive, he thinks to thank her for not furthering the set-up for a joke, looks the part of a proper fool when he makes his way backstage where she’s sat wiping away carmine from her cheeks. The actress’ eyes go wide and hazy when she catches sight of him towering over her, the cloth and mirror slipping from her hands to rest on the table.

Of course, she takes it as a warning, asks him if he would prefer they only act out the current affairs— the recent siege of the southern kingdom, maybe? Or a story about the harvest festival? The gods or beasts? Anything she can sputter out to the man she easily recognizes as being the Prince.

König only finds himself further endeared when she dips her head as if ashamed and moves to conceal the bare skin of her stomach as though it would be insulting to see her in such a state of undress.

He excitedly tells her about the siege, of how he slaughtered those treasonous men and so valiantly brought their women and children to the capital to live much more honest lives, boasting while she looks on in acute, wonderous horror. That’s what he chooses, even pulls his hood from his face and drops it into her lap when he tells her she has to play his part.

The actress explains to him, docile and sweet, that she’s never played a male role and certainly lacks the stature to accurately represent him of all people. To which, he laughs, bids her a farewell with a flick of his wrist and wanders back out into the cobblestone and muck to finish up his patrol of the city.

A fortnight later, she returns to the stage in hastily put on armors, his veil hanging proudly about her head, a wooden sword clasped tightly in her hands. The crowd watching laughs at her expense as she tries in earnest to perfect the way she imagined his sword must have danced during that siege. The male actors fall with each tap of the weapon’s tip, and her voice takes on a forced, deeper tone when she speaks her praises to the kingdom she’s pilfered glory for.

König only sees fire, not in the flames of torches but lain out before him, a heat that courses from the picture of this beautiful little doe on stage straight down to simmer in his chest, his stomach. She’s so cute, pretending and doing her best just to appease him that he finds himself backstage again once the play concludes.

It’s just to talk, to congratulate her on a wonderful performance. He even presents a hefty sack of gold coins to her when she returns his veil, and she marvels at the donation, takes each piece and turns it in her fingers for a time before setting the little bag on the table.

Her brow scrunches for a moment before she settles on offering her hand out to him, fingertips ghosting over his upper thigh, loitering on the armor shell protecting him and drifting further up until he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. Surely then, the actress comes to realize that her prince is as pure as the sisters in their temples.

She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head.

“I mean to pleasure you, my Prince,” she says, less meek now and more insisting. Her hand draws back to remove the prop armor from her body, eyes never leaving his own.

Though he considers the woman’s offer heavily, pulse stampeding and heart aching, he does eventually will himself to voice a weak refusal.

Never does he keep himself holed away from her for long, even after; König returns for each play whilst his men go about patrolling the city for prowlers and thieves. He watches each performance and continuously seeks her out backstage after. They talk each time, with him offering his suggestions and her clamoring for excuses as to why, no, she isn’t fit to play his role for another fight or some drab court meeting.

Finally, the same song and dance proves too much.

This night, there is no play and König still finds himself in the room cluttered with set pieces and props. The other actors have gone about seeking their own affairs for the evening; bedsides to coax comfort from or mugs of ale and bowls of bone to drown themselves in whilst gambling away the coins the hungering crowd has thrown their way.

She sits with him, perched up on her little table wearing nothing at all. Her skin is lit aglow by candlelight, the incense burning bathing all in the welcoming, warm comfort of lavender and rosemary. There’s ash in his chest again when he finds himself at her side, already aching with a want that should not exist, one that he would deny in full with bared teeth and blurry vision.

Only, she doesn’t prompt him with questions when her palms splay flat at the chest of his tunic, just grins like a wolf given a fat leg of mutton when she feels him begin to tense. She assures him that she’s only teaching him to act after demanding that he kneel, catches his jaw atop her hand and guides his face between her thighs where he then pants and groans at the foreign, enticing scent.

It awakens something in him, something bathed out and buried in blood, the very same that courses through his veins like a violent river now. A feral look and an iron grip on her hips that would leave bruises is all she gets. All until she hisses out the words, “I am your princess and you will do as I ask.”

The first lick is hesitant, clumsy, his stubble grazed over her most sensitive parts as he slips his tongue across the smoothness of her slit. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s doing, only enacting the vile things he’s heard men about the castle speak of, how to properly take a woman apart and push her to not only want, but to need.

Mostly, she’s unimpressed.

When he gathers her taste on his tongue, he becomes a man possessed, ripped away from duty and sovereignty and brought down to the lowness of mere swine. He groans into her cunt, laps and suckles at anything his tongue and lips can touch, savors the sight, dewy and swollen when he presses a kiss to the bud that finally does get her to purr.

“Sweet boy..,” she coos to him when her hands find his hair, petting him so gently as he continues to lap at her clit. “You’re taking such good care of your princess, yes?”

His mind blanks entirely, driven forward with a renewed, feverish vigor as he dismantles her wholly with a drooling mouth and an unrelenting stare. Rationality should have pulled him away before it ever got to this point; she’s a peasant, and he can’t run amok fathering bastards and condemning himself to Hell for a simple woman. But that’s all beaten back by her taste, the way she writhes in his hold, keeps whispering her praises and lacing those soft fingers through his hair… no amount of devils or men could pry him from her cunt.

Only she does when her voice comes in a pant and her grip tightens to pull him back. The table, his face, all sticky and wet with what must have been her very essence, drawn out by a man lacking experience but so unknowingly eager.

“Take off your clothes,” comes her next demand, one he obliges with a great hesitance.

The tunic is pulled away with shaking hands, the tie of his trousers next. He mutters a curse below his breath when his cock springs free, so erect and angry it looks painful. The tip drools just as much as that fluttering heaven between her legs, pearly beads of preejaculate leaking down to stain the fabric and further condemn him to this impromptu fate.

He jerks when she wraps her hand around him there, whines when she leans forward to kiss its head.

“I can’t…” His voice sounds weak to his own ears, pathetic and miserable as he makes a mock attempt at prying her away with a gentle press to her shoulder. “My princess… we should not.”

He’s almost certain she’s a devil herself sent to exact some punishment upon him when her lips curl up into a grin and she lies back with her knees drawn to her chest. She speaks such words to him then that he would not dare to ever repeat, songs only the unknown could sing. An angel, perhaps, when she slips a finger into herself to demonstrate to him just what should be done… there, with panting breaths and whispers of heaven.

And finally, when his cock throbs and kicks at the sight, all resolve is entirely lost. He positions himself over her where she guides the tip of his manhood to her slit, praises his size when his hips give an involuntary twitch and he slightly dips into her, sampling her warmth and the resistance from something so thick pressing into her.

His world crumbles at the sensation, cobblestone replaced by the raging heat of brimstone and an obscene lust that clouds his mind and leads him to spear her open to his hilt.

He finds holiness in their union, bites back a roar when her walls tremble around him. She only laughs when his teeth find her shoulder, only sings more hymns into his ear as he fucks into her cunt at a reckless, brutal pace. The words don’t register, far-away and distant amidst the roaring tide of sensation. She’s so tight, so wet and yearning, quivering beneath him and clawing down his back.

“We shouldn’t, hm?,” she whispers in his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. His strokes become even sloppier, each thrust stuttered and heady when the sound of her voice pulls through the haze of bliss. “My sweet boy is so good at this, though…”

His voice is nearly a wail when he loses himself fully then. He holds the back of her thighs, fucks himself through an orgasm that leaves his head spinning and his body shaking as though he’s come down with some wretched fever. And perhaps he is ill, because he can’t bring himself to think of anything more than the divine rapture of stuffing his seed into the warmth of her pussy, can’t bring himself to pull his cock out of her even when he begins to soften.

His face is buried against her neck, professing his endless love as he breathes her in and ruts into her over and over until his cock is once again stiffened and drooling inside of the very cunt he would die to keep.

Surely, when her troupe begins to pack to drift further out into the kingdom for their performances to be seen… he could accuse them of slander, have the old man playing the part of the lecherous king executed, the others thrown into rat-infested cells, and the little princess tethered to his bed to warm his heart and his cock.

He will kiss away her tears, tell her that all could be forgiven if she would only let him make an honest woman of her.

[doumadono]

A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration 💣

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.

[dasnercaret]

how ISAT makes you feel like going home

so one of my friends said to me "the first time i played (isat) was when i was home sick, i felt like it had curative properties. analyse that mr playstyle 😎" and i took it as a fucking challenge. i've never written an (tumblr-posted) analysis essay before and i'm going into this with a bunch of haphazardly folded ideas and NO OUTLINE fuck it we ball

so to begin with: DORMONT.

isat, as a whole, is extremely a traditional rpg setup. which unfortunately i know little to nothing about, so forgive me in advance if i put my foot in my mouth regarding traditional rpg mechanics. but like many games, you start at a home base, at home. and the whole vibes of the place honestly serve to only emphasize the safe / at home / storybook atmosphere isat cultivates. you wake up in a field, sleepy and tired. your dear friend mirabelle leans over you and tells you to wake up, because you're going to beat the king tomorrow! and you laugh and you're sleepy but eventually you start playing. eventually, you push yourself up and wander around and meet the townsfolk and your party.

now, the player doesn't know the party. they've just opened the game! they don't know these characters. siffrin does though, and it shows in the interactions he has with each one of them. mirabelle teases siffrin about the quality of his nap. isabeau puns with siffrin. odile smiles at him. bonnie... looks away, because of backstory you don't have yet, because you're leaping into this story at its very end. but siffrin knows.

(...)

siffrin knows. which informs his narration, of course, and overall it gives the sense of - you're watching a story already known, with characters who already love each other. like walking into a family home midway through a dinner party, to know and be known in turn.

(you know where you are. you're home!)

siffrin provides some exposition of course, enough to catch the player up and let them know the basics of the world you've set foot into. these people are here because they have natural ties, connections to the land they've been born or raised in or are travelling through. you all are here to defeat the king, who is the epitome of a traditional storybook villain, the big bad evil you defeat at the end of the fairytale. he's just the generically evil guy, with no focus given to the atrocities he must have committed and been willing to commit in order to get where he is. there's no need to be scared of him, not really. (yet.) he's evil, but in the way a storybook villain is evil. all the sharp edges defanged, sanded away, all the humanity and dimensionality and violence inherent in his character compressed into a set of scribbles on the page, words on a screen. it's not personal. it's not.... scary. not to you, and not to siffrin, who's already been floating above it all.

(the rest is under a cut! spoilers for The Entire Rest Of The Game)

similarly, the exposition is in the form of little childlike drawings, emphasizing the same nostalgia it draws on - fairytales, fables, those stories where the heroes collect the magic sword and slay the dragon and save the princess. you know these stories, consciously or not. you love these stories, (probably), and it all serves to emphasize the familiarity with which you step into dormont. heroic stories are extremely common in the stories we love today, from the old classic prince charming to (somewhat) more modern legend of zelda, and no doubt many people picking up isat have a similar passing familiarity with the overarching story of rpgs. (i in fact was the exception, but that's a whole other essay)

the townspeople definitely do not help this vibe as well. they are practically one and all kind, steady people, precisely the sort of common folk you'd want to save in a story where nothing hurts and everyone is safe and loved. they're happy to gift you a flower or a pan au chocolat and cheer you on in your quest, certain of your victory and at least certain of their continued happiness even if you fail. simple, easy, familiar, comforting in the way redwall is comforting or an old set of childhood fairytales is comforting. there's no real judgement, no anger at you for potentially failing and (almost) none of the gross ugly real emotions that would be present in a more 'realistic' story. simple, easy, familiar, comforting.

(You like knowing what happens next!)

so. i think we all know that isat at its core is a game about homesickness. god's sakes mal du pays is literally right there. the central conflict of this game, beneath the overlaying fluff of an rpg archetype and an evil to defeat, is about siffrin not being able to go home while the rest of his party get to do so. and even at this very early stage (approximately act 1 and i would argue a bit into act 2) you can start to see the cracks. siffrin is shown alone, tagging along with the party because he had "nothing else to do" (read: nowhere else to go.) he laughs and pals and jokes with the party, but like before, like always, he merely mirrors them. he makes puns with isabeau because isabeau likes puns, and siffrin liked making him laugh so much so that he adopted puns into a part of his personality. he comforts mirabelle about her future, jokes with odile about her research, and always, always, avoids talking about himself. when they ask where he's going to go after their journey is over, his answer is always a mirror of their own - pilgrimage, research, travel, comedy. when he makes a wish at the favor tree, there's no option to wish for himself.

because the thing is, right. siffrin never thinks of himself. the only options instead are to wish for his family - his home, his only living and real connections in his life, the people surrounding him that really make dormont feel like a real home and not just another friendly place in vaugaurde he's passing through. cause the townsfolk are nice, sure, they're friendly, sure, but - they don't know him. they're not important enough for him to literally rewrite his personality for them. it's his party instead, that he laughs and jokes with and is known with, even if superficially. he wants to be allowed to go home, to stay home. he's been homeless both literally and figuratively for so long that he's beyond desperate to be allowed to keep what little he's found for himself.

(You want to stay with them!)

except - what happens when you beat the game? what happens when you finish the rpg, when you reach the end of the book, when you grow up and leave this set of children's fairytales behind?

you put it down, right? you go home, right? you go back to your home, you go back to travelling, you go back to your family.

what do you do when you don't get to go home? when dormont and the clocktower and the house are the closest you will ever get to home, are the last moment you will ever have being home before it's ripped away from you forever? (ripped away from you just like before - )

you'd want to stay, right? forever and ever and ever?

siffrin is a character who has a very bad time letting go. just like the king, he wants to have, desperately, enough to kill himself a hundred times over for it. and, through the timeloop, he can pull you, the player, and himself and his hapless party along through the timeloop, repeating the same two comforting days over and over and over and over.

and perhaps after a few loops of settling in you, too, can understand why he would want to do this. it's nice, isn't it? knowing what will happen? knowing that these people will always love you? knowing that you can always get the flower, always get the drawing, always get the pan au chocolat, always beat the tutorial kid and get the jackpot? that the townsfolk will always smile at you, that your party - your family, your home - will never know what you've done?

it's not enough, isn't it?

(Dormont, unchanging! Dormont, stagnating!)

no matter how hard siffrin tries to cling to the past turned present to stave off his inevitable future, he is still human. under the fairytale setting and pretty lights, even under his own desire to stay with them, he needs that human connection. he needs something to change, to give way. needs to be seen, to be known, to be loved for himself and not because he's learned the perfect pretty words and actions to trick them into loving him. you, the player, the person driving siffrin, can understand this frustration perfectly as well - you need something to change. you need something to give way, because you can't keep doing this. because you can't hear the same lines over and over and over anymore. you can't do the same thing over and over anymore. you're not happy. siffrin's not happy. something needs to change.

i finished isat over the course of about four days, playing about 12-14 hours per day. during that time, i experienced possibly the most deeply intensely felt emotion i have ever experienced. to this day when i look back on my first playthrough of isat, the sheer depth and fury of that emotion takes my breath away.

and it was frustration. just like siffrin, i was trapped. i couldn't look away, because i loved these characters, because i loved their story, because i wanted them to keep going and going and living and i wanted to keep living alongside them. but i couldn't keep going like this. i couldn't do the same thing over and over and over. i needed something to change, but both siffrin and i were desperately, agonizingly trapped in the same few days. the same places, the same faces, the same lines said rote until i was zoning out through every dialogue interaction, only pausing when i needed to make sure that i hadn't missed something new.

because i loved these characters. i loved how homely they felt. i loved them, i loved them, i -

needed them to be real. to change, to grow, to have their future returned to them. i needed to see them go home, not trapped in this same endless time-frozen loop. i had been trapped at home too long, and the cabin fever was eating me alive. my desire to be allowed to keep playing (to stay in the timeloop) was duking it out with my desire to see them change beyond what they were allowed to change in the span of just two days. i wanted to see bonnie grow up, to see isabeau change into someone else, to see odile come to terms with her half-vaugardian nature, to see mirabelle learn to accept her sexuality (or lack thereof). i wanted them to remember us as family.

ah, isat, absolute king of getting in my head and making me think like siffrin.

back to dormont. in the end, dormont only changes permanently in act 6, after the time loop breaks. the only time the townsfolk ever change, ever coherently move to different places and act differently (act 5 is similar, but i would argue that's because siffrin changes, dormont still doesn't really meaningfully change) is after the loops.

and it's fitting, isn't it? by this point in the game, you could recite dormont backwards and forwards. but by this point in the game, you are well aware that you need to give them back a future. their future. the one they wished for in the first place. they've been trapped in their fairy tale wonderland for long enough. they deserve to go home, truly home, to go forward and live their lives and keep moving on. to allow them to change, to grow.

to allow yourself to change, to grow. to allow yourself to go home, to admit that you want to keep your home you have now, to keep the family you've built from blood and death and tears and stars.

(You want to stay with them!)

to leave dormont. to leave this fairytale behind, and keep living.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

As a veteran fangirl who only got into aot 2 years ago. I have been a massive fic reader for many fandoms over the years but the sheer number of long, detailed epics in the eruri fandom needs to be studied.

The number of long cinematic fics with indepth world building that are crafted with sheer love and respect for the characters in this fandom is incredible. Usually a fandom is lucky to have few that becomes classics but there seems to be one in every corner here.

I am very grateful for your Tumblr which has been a massive archive of knowledge and guide to navigating this fandom.

Thank you so much Anon ♡ I didn't originally intend for my blog to become the Eruri archive when I first got into the series in 2015, but 9 years and 23K posts later, here we are!

You're not the first person to be struck by the sheer range of incredible writing in the Eruri fandom, to say nothing of the fanart. We've been blessed by so many amazingly talented writers over the years, and one of the most amazing things is that they just keep coming. Many people predicted the demise of the Eruri fandom when Erwin died, when the manga ended, when then final anime episode aired, but the fandom is still thriving and new writers are posting fic every month.

However as you rightly pointed out, it's not just the quantity of the fic that's remarkable, it's the quality of the writing, the characterisation and the world building. I have a few of my own theories as to why that should be. First of all the canon material is a gift. Erwin and Levi are both mature adult characters with considerable depth and nuance and their canon relationship (regardless of whether you view it as romantic or not) is intertwined with the plot. It doesn't hurt that both of them have tragic backstories and then of course there's Erwin's internal conflict, heroic sacrifice and Levi's determination to fulfil vow. Honestly what more could you ask for from a ship?? It's no surprise that 3 of the 5 most popular manga chapters chosen by readers of Bessatsu Shonen manga focus on Erwin and Levi's relationship. They really are just that good.

I also think that because Erwin and Levi are both adults, rather than typical teenage shonen protagonists, that they attract a slightly older fanbase. That's not to say that younger fans can't be amazing writers of course, many are, but I think older fans often have a range of life experience that they can bring to their writing. Also I know for a fact that there are many Eruri authors who have successful professional careers and are published authors in other fields including technical writers, academics, researchers, historians, poets, journalists and more.

I've lost count of the number of times I've heard fans say that the Eruri fandom has spoiled them because of the quality and range of the fic and art, and honestly, it's hard to disagree. I regularly re-read fics that were written a decade ago and the characterisation is still pitch perfect. Some of them even pre-empt canon events that appeared in the manga years later. At the same time, I'm discovering new authors every week who are writing heart breaking fics that provide new insight into these characters who I've loved for so long. The Eruri fandom really is one in a million and I'm very grateful it's been such an important part of my life for so long. I'm glad you're able to enjoy it too ♡

[jcxbliss]

          Song Of The Deep

Pairing - Lee Seokmin (Siren) x Female Reader (Researcher)

Genre - Fantasy, Angst, 18+ Themes

Word Count - 7.7k

Warnings- So far none

Author's Note - Hi guys, so far people have liked this series (even if I have just started lol) I appreciate it. Please Enjoy<3

(ANYONE CAN JOIN THE TAGLIST)

Tags - @hipsdofangirl

Part Two: Heroic

Readers Point Of View 

Three days had passed since that unsettling night by the water, and the memory of Seokmin’s sudden appearance still lingers at the edge of your mind. You and your team are now deep into your fieldwork, hiking through Vesuvius National Park which is where the last spotting was found of the Lacewing . The landscape is striking, with its rolling hills and dense forests, but your focus is somewhat fractured by the echoes of recent nights.

As you trudge along the winding path, the sun high above, you can’t help but reflect on the strange dreams that have plagued you. Each night, as soon as your head touches the pillow, you find yourself at the shore again, drawn irresistibly to the water. The dreams are vivid and unsettling, with an intensity that feels almost tangible.

In these dreams, the sea calls to you with its haunting melody, the same one you heard that night. The water’s edge beckons, and you find yourself stepping closer, the cold waves lapping against your skin. There’s always an urgency, a compulsion to dip your fingers into the cool, shifting sands, and every time, you glimpse something just below the surface—sharp eyes watching you, glimmers of an otherworldly presence.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between the dreams and reality. During the day, the distractions of the hike and the camaraderie with the team—Seokmin, Azail, and Lucy—keep you grounded. Seokmin is his usual, approachable self, but there’s a subtle tension in the way he interacts with you, an unspoken awareness that lingers between you. Azail remains quiet and reserved, his eyes often scanning the surroundings with an almost secretive intensity. Lucy, with her relaxed attitude and unwavering dedication, offers a comforting sense of normalcy, though even her steady presence can’t fully dispel your unease.

As you walk, the sounds of nature surround you—birds calling, leaves rustling in the breeze, and the distant murmur of a stream. Yet, your mind keeps drifting back to those nighttime visions. You question what they could mean. Are they merely a reflection of your anxiety and the strange events you’ve encountered, or is there something more profound at play?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Seokmin’s voice, breaking through the fog of your introspection. “Y/N, any sign of the Neuroptera?”

You blink, snapping back to focus. “Not yet. We still have a ways to go before we reach the designated area.”

Seokmin nods and falls back into step beside you. There’s something in his demeanor that suggests he’s also preoccupied with thoughts beyond your immediate task. Perhaps he’s feeling the same disquiet you are, or maybe he’s merely trying to keep his own fears in check. Yet since he found you outside by the sea on the first night he seems to be stuck to your side. Everywhere you had gone he was only a few steps behind you. In a way it was comforting yet annoying, taking every moment to interject himself in your life.

The hike continues, and the landscape gradually shifts from dense forest to more open fields. The scent of wildflowers fills the air, and for a moment, you manage to push aside the unsettling memories of your dreams and the new found fondness that Seokmin has taken to you. 

The hike had been long and arduous, but as Azail’s voice rang out through the open field, the group felt a collective surge of renewed energy. “We’ve arrived at the last known location where the Lacewing was spotted!” Azail called out, his tone filled with a mix of relief and anticipation.

The team immediately sprang into action, splitting up into pairs to cover the expansive field more efficiently. Seokmin paired up with you, a decision that, despite the intensity of the work ahead, felt oddly comforting yet still annoying. The field was a patchwork of tall grasses and wildflowers, with occasional patches of dense underbrush. The sunlight filtered through the clouds in soft, dappled beams, casting an almost ethereal glow over the landscape.

As you and Seokmin wandered deeper into the field, you focused intently on the task at hand, scanning the ground for any signs of the elusive Lacewing. The two of you had ventured farther from the main group when Seokmin suddenly called out, “Look over there!” He pointed to a small, partially concealed pond nestled between some bushes. The water’s surface was a mirror-like expanse, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from a breeze. It seemed an unusual spot to find in the middle of a field, and it piqued your curiosity.

With renewed enthusiasm, you approached the pond, carefully navigating the uneven terrain. The edges of the pond were lined with reeds and lily pads, and you noticed that the ground was damp and treacherous. As you edged closer to the water, your foot slipped on a muddy patch. You flailed, arms flapping as you teetered dangerously close to falling in.

In an instant, Seokmin was at your side, his reflexes lightning-fast. He grabbed your arm with a firm grip, pulling you back from the brink. The sudden jolt of his strength and proximity sent a wave of warmth through you. Your heart raced, not just from the near-fall but from the electric contact of his hand on your arm.

“Careful,” Seokmin said, his voice steady and reassuring. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he looked at you. “The ground’s a bit unstable here.”

You managed a grateful smile, trying to steady your breathing. “Thanks, Seokmin. I didn’t see that coming.”

He returned your smile, a subtle, almost shy warmth in his gaze. “No problem. Just keep an eye out for the Lacewing, and we should be fine.” 

As the two of you began to carefully examine the area around the pond, a comfortable silence settled between you. The close encounter had woven a subtle thread of connection between you and Seokmin, and there was an almost unspoken understanding in the way he now regarded you. The shift was subtle, but noticeable—a gentle shift in the way he interacted, a quiet attentiveness in his gaze.

Both of you begin to look around the pond for the small green bug. This time you are more aware of your surroundings, every now and again you would glance over your shoulder at Seokmin. Occasionally within those stolen glances he would catch you and you would feel a wave of embarrassment rush through you. 

Despite the lack of success in finding the Lacewing near the pond, you both carried a sense of satisfaction from the search. As the sun began its descent, casting elongated shadows over the field, you and Seokmin started to make your way back to the main group. Just as you were about to rejoin the others, a distant voice called out, cutting through the evening air.

“Y/N! Seokmin! Over here!” Azail’s voice echoed, filled with a mixture of excitement and triumph.

You quickened your pace, exchanging a look with Seokmin that conveyed both curiosity and a hint of disappointment. When you reached the main group, you saw Azail and Lucy standing beside a small cluster of trees, a large grin spread across Azail’s face.

“We found it!” Azail announced, holding up a small container with a delicate Lacewing fluttering inside.

The sight of the Lacewing brought a collective cheer from the team. Seokmin and you joined in the celebration, though there was a quiet satisfaction in the discovery despite not having found it yourselves. The shared experience by the pond, however, had added a layer of connection that felt meaningful in its own right.

As the group gathered around to examine the Lacewing, the fading light of the day cast a warm glow over everyone. With a clap of your hands you announced that it was probably time to head back down before it would get too dark outside for you guys to walk. 

Later that night, the team gathered in the cozy dining room of the bed-and-breakfast, a warm and inviting space with wooden beams and flickering candlelight. The table was set with hearty Italian dishes, a comforting contrast to the day’s fieldwork. Laughter and conversation filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere that was both relaxing and satisfying after the long hours spent searching for the Lacewing.

You sat across from Seokmin, the soft light casting a gentle glow on his features. As you glanced around the table, engaging in light conversation with Lucy and Azail, your attention repeatedly drifted back to Seokmin. The way the flickering candlelight highlighted the smooth curve of his strong jawline, the warmth of his deep brown eyes, and the slightly tousled waves of his dark hair made him appear even more captivating tonight.

His height was impressive, standing just a bit taller than average, with a broad, solid frame that complemented his easygoing demeanor. His face was square but softened by a well-defined, warm smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, giving him a friendly and approachable look. The subtle play of light on his features, coupled with the genuine way he laughed and interacted with everyone, seemed to bring out a magnetic charm that you hadn’t noticed as strongly before.

The conversation flowed easily until Lucy, with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned forward. “Speaking of adventures, Y/N, do you remember our little escapade to the vineyard yesterday?”

You winced, a small flush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh no, not that story.”

Lucy chuckled, clearly enjoying the memory. “Yes, that one! We were having a lovely time tasting different wines, and everything was going perfectly until…well, until someone managed to turn their white shirt into a canvas for red wine.”

The table burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in, even though you felt a bit embarrassed. “Okay, okay, I admit it. I was a bit too enthusiastic about that last pour. But in my defense, it was a really good wine.”

Lucy grinned, clearly relishing the opportunity to recount the tale. “It was, but you were so flustered trying to clean it up. I’ve never seen someone try so hard to salvage a wine-stained shirt. And of course, you ended up with a bright red splotch right in the middle!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Yeah, I had to buy a new shirt on the way back. It was definitely one of those ‘well, this is awkward’ moments.”

As the laughter settled, Seokmin, who had been quietly enjoying the story, leaned forward with a grin. “Speaking of memorable experiences, Azail and I had quite the adventure while you guys were doing that.”

Azail raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued before the memory reanimates itself in his mind. “Oh, here it comes. Tell them about our hot air balloon ride.”

Seokmin chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “It was supposed to be a relaxing experience, but I’ve never been so scared in my life. I ended up clinging to Azail for dear life. Every time the balloon swayed, I thought we were going to fall out.”

Azail laughed, adding with a playful tone, “And let me tell you, Seokmin’s grip was so tight I thought I might need a new set of ribs by the end of it. It was like having a very large, very nervous teddy bear attached to me.”

Seokmin blushed slightly but smiled at the memory. “Yeah, I might have overreacted a bit. But Azail was a real trooper, calming me down and even making jokes about our ‘imminent doom.’”

Azail leaned back with a smirk. “Well, someone had to keep things light. Besides, I figured if we were going to plummet from the sky, we might as well go out laughing.”

The group laughed heartily, and the atmosphere at the table felt even warmer. Seokmin’s usual composed demeanor had softened, revealing a more relaxed and approachable side of him. Azail’s playful commentary had everyone in stitches, and the camaraderie among the team seemed to deepen with each shared story.

As the evening continued, the conversation shifted to other adventures and mishaps, with each story adding to the collective memory of the group. You felt a sense of contentment, enjoying the lively interactions and the growing bond between you and your teammates. The night was filled with laughter and the comforting sense of connection, making it clear that the team had become more than just colleagues—they had become friends.

Seokmin, now fully engaged in the lively conversation, seemed more relaxed than ever. His earlier nervousness about the hot air balloon ride had given way to a genuine sense of ease and enjoyment. He was animatedly recounting a particularly funny moment from one of his past field studies when Lucy, ever the instigator, leaned in with a sly grin.

“I do have an observation that I want to throw out there,” Lucy said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “has anyone noticed how Seokmin and Y/N seem to be having a great time together lately?”

You felt a sudden jolt of surprise, and a warm flush crept up your cheeks. You glanced at Seokmin, who was momentarily caught off guard but quickly recovered, his usual confident demeanor returning.

Seokmin chuckled, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “I am having a great time with her and you guys as well. After all, we are all here to work on something we are truly passionate about. And something about Y/N excitement to the craft intrigues me.” He shrugs and leans back into the chair he is in before throwing a glance over at you with a smile. 

Azail, who had been quietly listening, decided to pipe into the conversation while running a hand through his tight knit curls “Yeah I agree with Seokmin. It isn’t everyday you see someone so passionate about bugs as she is. Sure I like bugs, but she loves them.”

“True, but I think there’s something special about the way you two have been working together. It’s nice to see.” Lucy picks up her glass of wine and takes a sip of it while landing her gray eyes over on you.

Before you could respond, Seokmin cleared his throat and gently redirected the conversation. “Well, we still have a few more weeks here, so who knows what other adventures await us. Let’s make the most of it!”

The group eagerly agreed, and the conversation quickly shifted to plans for the upcoming days. You noticed that Seokmin’s focus seemed to return to the group’s plans, but there was a soft, lingering warmth in his eyes when he glanced your way.

As the night drew to a close and the conversation started to wind down, you felt a quiet contentment. 

You and Seokmin exchanged a few more smiles and lighthearted comments as the team prepared to leave the dining room. 

“Alright, I think we have a good plan for tomorrow. Our main goal is to find at least one more of the Neuroptera to research in case the one we found isn’t enough. I say we leave around 6:00 am and we should arrive just in time to spend the majority of the day there.” You debrief to the rest of everyone while Lucy hums in agreement, Azail nods his head in affirmation and Seokmin gives a thumbs up. 

“Sounds great!” Seokmin says before waving goodbye to the group, excusing himself first for bed while everyone else follows suit. 

As you all headed to your respective rooms for the night, the warmth of the shared moments lingered, and you found yourself reflecting on the unexpected but delightful connections that had formed during the trip. 

Later that night after showering and towel drying your hair, you find yourself on the small balcony of your room, the cool night breeze rustling through the olive trees below. The balcony offered a stunning view of the moonlit sea, its gentle waves shimmering under the soft light of the moon. The peaceful sound of the water lapping against the shore was a soothing backdrop to the day’s events, and you found solace in the quiet solitude.

As you leaned on the railing, lost in thought, you noticed a figure moving slowly toward the water. It was Seokmin. His tall silhouette was outlined against the darkness, and his purposeful stride caught your attention. The way he walked, seemingly drawn to the water, made you feel a sudden pang of curiosity.

You considered calling out to him, wondering if he needed company or if something was on his mind. But before you could decide, a familiar, eerie hum began to drift through the night air. The sound was faint at first, almost as if it was being carried on the breeze, but it grew gradually more distinct. It was the same haunting melody that had visited your dreams in the past few nights.

The humming was mesmerizing, its rhythm and tone strangely familiar, as if it was calling out to something deep within you. You hesitated, your earlier impulse to approach Seokmin fading as you became entranced by the sound. You watched as Seokmin paused at the edge of the water, the rhythmic hum growing louder and more insistent.

Instead of calling out, you remained silent, drawn by the haunting melody. The sound seemed to weave through the night, curling around your senses and tugging at something just beyond your reach. You noticed that Seokmin stood still for a moment, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as if he, too, was listening to the strange song.

The moonlight glinted off the water, creating a shimmering path that seemed to lead directly to Seokmin. As you continued to observe, you saw him move closer to the water’s edge, his eyes scanning the darkness, his expression one of deep contemplation. The humming grew louder, its haunting notes filling the space between you and the sea.

A shiver ran down your spine as the melody seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of the waves. You felt as though you were on the verge of understanding something profound, yet elusive. 

You remained hidden in the shadows of the balcony, your gaze fixed on Seokmin and the water. The night seemed to stretch out endlessly, and the only sound that mattered was the haunting hum that seemed to fill the space around you.

As you watched, Seokmin finally took a step into the water, his movements deliberate and slow. The cool water seemed to embrace him, and he waded deeper, the moonlight casting ripples on his figure. The humming reached a crescendo, and you felt an inexplicable urge to follow, to understand the connection between the melody and Seokmin’s enigmatic behavior.

But you stayed where you were, a silent observer, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you. The strange melody continued to weave its way through the night, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were witnessing something both profound and inexplicable.

As the minutes ticked by, you remained on the balcony, wrapped in the mystery of the melody and the silent connection between Seokmin and the sea. The haunting song seemed to hold a secret, and you were left to ponder its meaning as you watched Seokmin’s solitary figure in the moonlit water.

Seokmin’s Point Of View 

For the past few nights, Seokmin had immersed himself in research, delving into ancient texts and local folklore regarding sirens and their legends. The more he read, the more he uncovered about the intricate lore surrounding these enigmatic beings. The books spoke of their power, their allure, and the ancient claims they made over those who ventured too close to their domains.

He had discovered tales of sirens who could control the tides with their songs, influence the minds of those who heard their melodies, and even create illusions to protect their secrets. The knowledge he gained was both fascinating and unsettling, revealing a world far beyond the everyday understanding he had previously held.

What he found most intriguing—and troubling—was the realization that his own connection to these ancient beings was deeper than he had ever fully acknowledged. There were moments when he felt a shift within himself, a sense of tapping into a dormant power that he had always sensed but never fully explored. This power was linked to the sirens' realm, and with it came a deeper understanding of his own nature.

Each night by the water, Seokmin felt the transformation more acutely. The sea’s embrace felt different, more intimate, and he sensed that he was accessing a reservoir of ancient knowledge and abilities that had lain dormant within him. His form shifted subtly, his senses sharpened, and his mind accessed ancient wisdom and instincts that had been part of him for as long as he could remember.

Now, standing in the water, he felt the true extent of his connection to the siren lore. His eyes, reflecting the moonlight, revealed a glimmer of the hidden power he possessed. It was as if the very essence of the siren’s world was flowing through him, and he was acutely aware of the power dynamics at play.

The shadowy figure emerged from the depths with a graceful, undulating motion, the water parting around it like a curtain. The presence was commanding, ancient, and Seokmin could sense the weight of the centuries in its voice.

“Seokmin,” the figure called, its voice resonating with a deep, eerie authority that matched the ancient knowledge Seokmin had been studying. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Seokmin met the figure's gaze with a calm determination. “I’ve been researching the legends, learning about the ancient claims and powers. I know why you’re here. This isn’t just about territory; it’s about something much deeper.”

The figure’s eyes gleamed with a mix of surprise and disdain. “You think you understand the depth of what’s at stake? This domain has been mine for ages. Your new knowledge doesn’t change that.”

Seokmin’s stance grew more resolute, his voice unwavering. “It’s not just about claiming territory. It’s about ensuring the safety of those who come near. The one we both seek is not simply prey; they are a key to something greater. And I won’t let you jeopardize them.”

The shadowy figure’s form rippled with anger, the water around it churning in response. “You speak of safety and claims, but you’re treading on ancient grounds. The power that connects us to them is more profound than you realize.”

Seokmin’s focus sharpened, his resolve stronger than ever. “I’ve felt the depth of this power. It’s not just about control or claims; it’s about a responsibility we share. I won’t let you endanger them or disrupt the balance.”

The figure’s voice grew more insistent, its ancient cadence echoing through the night. “Then we shall see who truly holds the power to claim what we seek. But beware, Seokmin, for the forces we invoke are not to be trifled with.”

The confrontation deepened, the tension between them thickening as they argued over ancient claims and responsibilities. Seokmin knew that this was not merely a battle of will but a test of his newfound understanding and power.

As the waves continued their rhythmic dance, Seokmin felt the weight of his knowledge and his heritage bearing down on him.

Seokmin's gaze remained locked with the shadowy figure as their argument intensified. Each word exchanged carried the weight of centuries, the dialogue steeped in ancient dialects that seemed to echo from the depths of time. His heightened senses absorbed the nuances of the confrontation, the subtle shifts in tone and the unspoken threats that lurked beneath the surface.

"You may claim ancient knowledge, but that doesn’t make you the master of this realm," the figure hissed, its form swirling in the water with an almost hypnotic rhythm. The words were layered with a menacing undertone, the very essence of power and authority.

Seokmin's heart pounded, but his exterior remained calm. The knowledge he had accumulated over the past few days provided him with a greater understanding of the siren lore and its intricacies. He had always known, on some level, that he was connected to this world, but now he felt the full weight of his heritage. The sea felt alive around him, its whispers and currents speaking to him in a language he was beginning to understand more deeply.

"I’m not here to challenge your dominion," Seokmin replied, his voice steady and clear. "But I am here to ensure that the balance is maintained. This isn’t about possession; it’s about respect for the roles we play."

The figure's eyes narrowed, a mix of curiosity and irritation flaring within them. "Respect? You speak of respect while intruding upon what is mine. The one you guard—do you truly believe you understand the depth of their significance?"

Seokmin's thoughts raced as he recalled the dreams that had haunted him over the past few nights. The recurring melody, the beckoning call of the sea—it all began to weave together into a clearer pattern. The dreams had been more than mere disturbances; they were clues, fragments of a larger truth about his own identity and the role he was meant to play.

"I’ve felt their importance," Seokmin said, his voice gaining a note of conviction. "And I understand that it is not merely about claiming or controlling. It’s about protecting them from the dangers that they don’t yet comprehend. This connection is deeper than either of us fully grasp."

The shadowy figure's form rippled as if in contemplation. The water around them seemed to still, the tension momentarily suspended. "You speak with wisdom beyond your years, Seokmin. Perhaps you are more attuned to these matters than I anticipated. But be warned—our interests are not easily reconciled."

Seokmin's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He knew that the figure's claims were valid, but he was equally aware of his own growing power and understanding. The realization that his heritage connected him to the siren world in such an intrinsic way gave him a newfound strength, a confidence that he had not fully embraced before.

"I’m here to maintain balance," Seokmin reiterated, his tone firm. "And I will not allow either of us to disrupt it. The one we both seek must be safeguarded from the dangers of this realm."

The figure's form began to recede into the water, its presence fading but its final words lingering in the night. "Very well, Seokmin. We shall see who prevails in this struggle for balance. But remember, the forces we wield are far more complex than you may yet understand."

As the figure vanished beneath the waves, Seokmin felt a surge of relief mixed with lingering unease. The confrontation had been intense, and the stakes were higher than he had anticipated. He knew that the balance he sought to protect was delicate and fraught with danger.

He turned back toward the shore, his thoughts racing. The knowledge he had gained and the power he was beginning to wield were both exhilarating and daunting. There was a deeper understanding that he needed to grasp, and the challenges ahead were more significant than he had imagined.

As he walked back to the bed-and-breakfast, he cast a final glance at the water, where the last remnants of the shadowy figure had disappeared. The sea was calm now, but the night’s events had left an indelible mark on him. The path forward was unclear, but Seokmin was resolute. He would continue to protect the one who was central to this complex and ancient struggle, and he would embrace the full extent of his own connection to the siren world.

Back at the bed-and-breakfast, Seokmin slipped through the dimly lit hallways, his thoughts still occupied by the encounter with the shadowy figure. The weight of his new understanding pressed heavily on him. As he reached his room, he paused, glancing back toward the sea. The calm waves now seemed deceptively serene, hiding the turbulent truths beneath their surface.

He slipped into his room, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort. He sat down at the desk, pulling out his laptop and searching through the archives of the ancient texts and folklore he had been studying over the past few days. 

As he pored over the texts, the gentle tapping on his door pulled him from his thoughts, quickly he shut his laptop close before swiveling in his chair to look at his bedroom door. As the door opened he saw the gray hair that could only mean one person,  Lucy, her aging face showing a mix of concern and warmth. “Hey, Seokmin. Do you have a moment?”

Seokmin looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes to have been interrupted at this hour when they had all said goodnight a few hours ago. “Sure, Lucy. What’s up?”

Lucy took a seat across from him, her expression softening as she spoke. “I just wanted to check in. This is your first field expedition, and I know it can be a lot to handle. I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit distant today, and I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Seokmin forced a reassuring smile before letting out a breath of air that he hadn’t realized he was holding until that moment. “I’m fine, Lucy. It’s just a lot to take in, but I’m managing.”

Lucy nodded, her concern still evident. “I understand. It’s completely normal to feel that way. You’re doing an excellent job, and everyone appreciates your hard work. If you need anything or just want to talk, I’m here.”

Seokmin appreciated her words more than he could express. “Thanks, Lucy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Lucy left, Seokmin returned to his research. His thoughts wandered back to the mysterious figure and the argument over Y/N. The more he considered it, the clearer it became that the stakes were higher than he had initially thought. The siren world was fraught with intricate politics and ancient grudges, and his role in this complex web of interactions was only beginning to reveal itself.

Exhausted but unable to sleep, Seokmin eventually lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The soft rustling of the wind outside and the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a backdrop to his restless thoughts. 

The next morning, the team gathered for breakfast, the atmosphere light and cheerful despite the recent challenges. The day ahead was filled with more fieldwork, and Seokmin was determined to keep his focus on the task at hand.

As the team discussed their plans for the day, Seokmin found himself increasingly aware of Y/N, who was seated at the table, engaging in conversation with Lucy and Azail. The subtle shift in their interactions from the previous night was not lost on him. There was a connection that seemed to be growing between them, and Seokmin couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease mixed with curiosity.

When the group set out for the day’s activities, Seokmin felt a weight of anticipation hanging over him. The morning sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, but despite the picturesque surroundings, his thoughts remained preoccupied. This was not unnoticed by Lucy who seemed to be increasingly talkative towards him almost as if she was trying to pull him back to the reality of the moment. 

As they arrived at the field where they would continue their search for the Lacewing, Seokmin tried to keep his focus on the task at hand. Partnering with Azail for the morning’s work finding it the safer option to pull his mind away from Y/N. The two boys methodically moved through the overgrown grass and wildflowers, checking under rocks and peering into dense foliage.

“Have you noticed anything unusual lately?” Azail asked, glancing at Seokmin as they worked. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

Seokmin shook his head, forcing a smile. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual day-to-day stuff. Why?”

Azail hesitated, clearly wanting to say more but choosing his words carefully. “It’s just that you seem a bit... distracted.” Azail was not known to pry on things, and had a reputation to stay to himself which Seokmin was grateful for in the moment. 

Seokmin appreciated the offer but kept his response vague. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind. This project is both intriguing and infuriating when we cant find all the pieces we need in order to study the species properly.” 

Azail nodded in agreement before taking a few steps forward to continue his search of a tree in front of the two of them. “I agree with you, I know that one should be enough but it would be nice to find at least two of them in case one of them dies so we can study them a bit more.”

As they continued their search, Seokmin’s thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the previous night. He couldn’t afford to let his personal feelings interfere with his duties, but maintaining his focus was becoming increasingly difficult.

The search for the Lacewing proved challenging. The elusive insect seemed to have vanished from their designated area, and despite their best efforts, the morning yielded no significant discoveries. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity and frustration. The search for at least one other Lacewing remained fruitless, and by late afternoon, the team was beginning to feel the strain of their efforts. 

As they made their way back to the homebase, the sun dipping below the horizon, creating a beautiful backdrop as the hiked their way back down the mountain. Y/N was leading the pack going on about a different discovery that she had on her last solo expedition while Lucy made offhanded comments about how weird it was that Y/N spent almost her entire life dedicated to the craft. Making a few comments about how she also needs to enjoy her youth because her job will always be there. While Lucy was making these comments, Y/N would steal glances of Seokmin while a blush would rise to her cheeks, Every once in a while she would agree with Lucy just to make the conversation stop for the moment. 

That evening, as the team gathered for dinner, the atmosphere was subdued. The exhaustion of the day had settled over everyone, and the conversations were quieter than usual. Seokmin glanced around the table, taking in the familiar faces of his teammates and the warmth of the cozy dining room. 

When dinner concluded and the team began to disperse, Seokmin found himself once again drawn to the water but settled to stand on his balcony overlooking the sea. The moonlight cast a serene glow over the water, and the gentle sound of the waves was a soothing backdrop to his thoughts.

He leaned against the railing, his mind replaying the events of the day and the weight of his responsibilities. The calm sea seemed to mock his inner turmoil, its surface reflecting the pale light of the moon.

Seokmin lingered on the balcony for a few more minutes, finding a small measure of peace in the moonlit sea. But the reality of their mission brought him back to the present. With a final glance at the serene horizon, he turned and headed back inside to go get a glass of water. 

Making his way out of his room he walked down the long hallway until he was met with the stairs. Slowly he made his way down them humming softly to himself the sound coming out more enchanting then he intended but saw no harm with everyone in their rooms. As he plants his feet on the last steps he halts when he glances towards the light. 

The warm glow of the dining room was a stark contrast to the cool night outside. As Seokmin entered, he noticed Y/N seated at one of the tables, her focus entirely on a small container in front of them. Inside, the only Lacewing the group had managed to find that day fluttered gently, its delicate wings catching the light. Y/N was engrossed in jotting down notes in her notebook, the expression that was worn on her face seemed to be a mix of concentration and curiosity.

Seokmin approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her concentration. He stood for a moment, watching as Y/N carefully observed the Lacewing. The intricate patterns on its wings seemed to captivate her, and the way she wrote in the notebook suggested a deep immersion in her work.

Finally, Y/N looked up, sensing Seokmin’s presence. She offered a small, tired smile. “Hey, Seokmin. What are you doing up still?” She questioned pulling off her glasses and setting them down on the table.

Seokmin returned the smile. “ I needed to get a glass of water. I see you’ve been busy. How’s it going with our little friend?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion. “Actually, quite well. I’ve been trying to document everything about this Lacewing—its behavior, the patterns on its wings, and any other peculiarities. It’s not just about finding it; understanding its role might help us with the rest of our search.”

Seokmin nodded, impressed by her dedication. “That sounds like a valuable approach. I’m sure it’ll give us an edge. How are you holding up, though? You have been a bit different lately.” Seokmin was talking out of his ass, but this was his subtle way of asking if she has been experiencing anything weird. 

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m managing. It’s just been a tough few days. I have been having these weird dreams that seem insane so I don’t even want to get into it right now.” She waves her hand in the air to dismiss the thought, “Just so much in my head right now.” She throws out a soft chuckle into the evening air. 

Seokmin’s expression softened. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here. Sometimes sharing helps lighten the load.” Deep down he hoped that she would in that very moment even if it meant he would have to expose who he truly is. 

‘Please, please tell me what is going on Y/N, I want to protect you.’ Seokmin wagered in his mind but kept a soft smile while examining her. 

Y/N looked grateful but shook her head gently. “Thanks, Seokmin. I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, focusing on this Lacewing helps me stay grounded.”

Seokmin glanced at the Lacewing’s container, admiring its delicate beauty. “It’s incredible how something so small can hold so much significance. I hope our efforts pay off.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes returning to the notebook. “Me too. For now, though, I’ll keep working on this and see if I can find any patterns or clues that might help us.”

Seokmin took a seat across from them, sensing Y/N’s need for companionship but also respecting her focus. “I’ll be here if you need anything. Just let me know.”

They shared a brief, understanding look before returning to their respective tasks. Seokmin watched as Y/N’s pen danced across the notebook, her focus unwavering.

The ambiance of the dining room, now quieter and more relaxed, provided a backdrop to their shared sense of purpose. Seokmin felt a renewed sense of determination. Despite the day’s challenges and the weight of their mission, there was a glimmer of hope in their collective efforts.

As the night wore on, Seokmin remained in the dining room, offering silent support and occasional words of encouragement.. With each passing hour, the room grew quieter, but Y/N’s diligent work and Seokmin’s quiet presence were a testament to their commitment.

Eventually, Y/N finished their notes and closed the notebook with a sigh of satisfaction. She looked up, meeting Seokmin’s gaze with a tired but hopeful smile.

“Thanks for being here,” Y/N expressed in a soft and tired tone.

Seokmin returned the smile. “Of course. We’re in this together, and we’ll get through it.” His words may have seemed surface level but they meant more than she could have ever known. 

Both of them stood up together and Y/N let out a yawn and a stretch of her arms over her head which led to small wobble in her steps and she walked forward. Quickly Seokmin stands in front of her to prevent her from falling to the floor which only yielded Y/N tripping slightly into him. 

“Woah- you okay there?” Seokmin chuckles softly holding her biceps to steady her but not pushing her away. The distance between them was mere inches, their scents intertwining. 

Y/N smelled of fresh-cut herbs—rosemary and basil—added a vibrant, green aroma, reminiscent of a well-tended garden in spring. Complemented by a cool, invigorating hint of mint, evoking the crispness of early morning dew. Underlying it all was a touch of soft musk, providing a warm, almost velvety finish that added depth and subtlety. It was intoxicating to say the least, his eyes stared down at her. 

Reader’s Point Of View 

Seokmins scent was intoxicating leaving you stuck in a trance, he smelled of a fresh, oceanic scent. There was a crisp, briny tang of sea spray, mingled with the clean, invigorating aroma of seafoam and saltwater. Beneath these were subtle hints of sun-warmed driftwood and a touch of sunlit sand. All it did was leave you wanting more, to be wrapped in his scent for all of eternity.

Staring up at him your lips part slightly forgetting to use your words for a moment. It is almost as if nothing could pull you from this, the same feeling you had the other night by the sea matched how you felt in this moment. He put you in a trance, but unlike the other one you didn’t feel in danger. You felt safe and calm, like even if the world was ending you wouldn’t mind it ending by his hands. 

“Woah- you okay there?” You hear a chuckle leave his lips and a smile form. It wasn’t one that carried smugness. 

Clearing your throat you nod as you take a step back from him, feeling his hands drop from your arms. 

“Ye-Yeah.” You stammered, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you ran a hand through your hair. Your heart raced, partly from the embarrassment of tripping for the second time and partly from the close proximity to Seokmin. 

Seokmin’s eyes twinkled with a sense of amusement. “Looks like you’re having a rough time with these pesky obstacles,” he said with a teasing grin as he points to your feet then proceeds to steady you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, it seems that way. I really need to watch where I’m going.”

“Or maybe the ground is just trying to keep you close,” Seokmin joked, his grin widening. His leans down to be in your eyeline as he whispers. “I’m starting to think it’s got a thing for you.”

You blushed deeper, trying to regain your composure. “Well, if that’s the case, it’s not doing a very good job of it.”

Seokmin chuckled softly. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to turn every little mishap into an excuse to get my attention.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied, though your smile betrayed your amusement. “I’d much rather not trip over my own feet.”

Seokmin’s eyes softened as he took a step closer. “Hey, if you ever need a hand—or a steadying arm—I’m here. Just promise me you’ll try to stay upright, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for rescuing me again.”

“Anytime,” Seokmin said with a wink. “But seriously, if you keep this up, I’m going to start charging for my services.”

You laughed, the tension easing as you both shared a moment of light-heartedness. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, your cheeks still tinged with color but your mood lifted. “And I’ll try to avoid any more accidents.”

Everything seemed to be easier with Seokmin. His light-hearted jokes and steady presence had a way of making even the clumsiest moments feel manageable. As you walked alongside him to the stairs, the earlier embarrassment faded into the background, replaced by a growing sense of ease.

Seokmin’s casual banter continued to brighten the mood. “You know, if we keep running into these little mishaps, I might have to start carrying a first aid kit for you,” he said, a playful grin still dawned his face. 

You laughed, feeling a comforting warmth in his company. “I think I’d appreciate that. At least then I’d have someone to save me from myself. But am I also going to have to be the one to pay for the first aid kit if I am to be charged of your heroic services?” You questioned him

Seokmin chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the cost of materials. Besides, I think the universe just wants us to have more bonding moments. Consider it a cosmic intervention, and if that is the case I won’t start my charging until your free tail is up.”

“Right,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. “And here I thought it was just me being clumsy. Instead I making the most out of a free trail I didn’t know I signed up for.”

“Exactly,” Seokmin replied, his tone light but sincere. “Everyone has their moments. What matters is how we handle them. And with me around, you’ve got a pretty reliable safety net. Consider the free trail a gift I don’t give to everyone” He pokes your shoulder.

You appreciated his words more than you let on. “Thanks, Seokmin. I really do feel better having you around my savior.”

Seokmin’s smile softened, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “Anytime. And if you ever need more rescue missions, you know where to find me.”

[anthurak]

Okay so this is actually part of a much longer (series of) post(s) detailing/speculating on what I'm calling 'Ruby's and Yang's Family Reckoning' in Volume 10 and beyond, but I thought it'd be fun to throw this up as it's own little thing for now:

I actually completely understand WHY some fans keep defending Tai as a 'good'/'not-actually-a-total-fuckup' parent.

Because the show/writers are actually pulling a long-game, subversive narrative rug-pull with Tai just like they did with Ozpin, Ironwood and Qrow.

Think about it; Tai is introduced early on in the story as the seemingly 'Good Dad'. And he certainly LOOKS that way on the surface, given his lack of typical 'shitty dad' traits he see so often in stories. He's even first mentioned alongside what SEEMS to be a typical 'Bad Mom' who left her kids in Raven.

Just like Ozpin, Qrow and Ironwood were introduced as similar 'good-guy' archetypes; the Wise Teacher, the Quirky Mentor and the Heroic Soldier.

All while planting NUMEROUS and evergrowing hints, clues and red flags in the margins, between the lines and just outside our audience field of view, all in preparation for when the story is ready to yank the proverbial rug out from under both the audience AND our heroines that the adults they've been trusting this whole time are actually MASSIVE screw-ups who have been making a mess of everything.

The hints to Ozpin's general shadiness, the clues to Qrow's self-destructive alcoholism and depression, the red-flags that Ironwood was actually on the fast-track to fascism, and all the indicators that Tai was actually a complete and total fuck-up of a dad.

The only difference with Tai is that the show hasn't decided to shine the light of narrative focus ON all of his numerous problems and fuckups and force our heroines to confront them like it already has with Ozpin and Qrow in Volume 6, and Ironwood in Volume 7.

At least, not YET.

And do you remember how we actually had plenty of people who MISSED all those hints, clues and red flags surrounding Ozpin, Qrow and Ironwood? Specifically people who were denying that those meant anything right up until the moment they DID mean something?

Yeah, I'm not actually surprised at all we're seeing the same thing with Taiyang.

[dailycharacteroption]

Pathfinder Agent (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by Sucdeportocale on DeviantArt)

With how vast the Pathfinder setting is, it can sometimes be hard to remember that an important detail of it is the titular Pathfinder Society from which the system gets it’s name.

Focused on archeological and heroic motivations over desires for wealth, the society seeks to recover the secrets and relics of the past and make sure that the more dangerous entities and artifacts are dealt with properly and responsibly. They might not always succeed, but by and large their hearts are in the right place.

It only makes sense then that there would be training regimen to help the agents of the society survive and do well in the ancient wonders and ruins they seek and explore.

Indeed, this archetype is a nod and draws plenty of inspiration from the various Pathfinder prestige classes of the previous edition, such as chroniclers, field agents, delvers, and savants, with the majority of its focus being on the middle two of those. This makes sense given the role this modern archetype is meant to embody.

So let’s take a moment and look at what these agents have to offer, shall we?

The base dedication of the archetype improves the agent’s skills as they learn multiple things to help diversify their abilities, including bolstering their otherwise untrained skills. Additionally, they gain access to the signature wayfinders carried by all agents.

Tombs and ruins are often laden with traps, and many agents train to notice them even when performing other activities.

Said complexes are often very complicated, and some learn to keep careful track of their own movements in order to keep track of their sense of direction.

Teamwork keeps the whole expedition alive, and so many train to aid their allies so well that they gain some of the same benefits too, improving their own aim, defensive ability, or follow-up actions as a result.

Some also learn to reflexively look out for more broad environmental hazards, not just actively malicious traps.

This can also be trained to apply to hidden creatures as well, helping them notice ambushes before they happen.

They are also often trained in bestiary studies, to better know what they are up against when facing down various monsters.

Haunts too are not safe from their perceptive notice.

Thorough note-taking comes in handy, especially when facing certain types of monsters repeatedly, allowing them to notice or recall additional facts later.

Seeing an expert in action is a very useful skill to have in dangerous situations, and these explorers often learn to perfectly imitate the actions of a more skilled individual when performing the same task, such as where to step while moving over narrow ledges, and so on.

Some of the more mystical and curious among them tinker with their wayfinder, unlocking a bit of magic in the form of a cantrip of their choice and the ability to disguise their wayfinder as an unassuming accessory.

When danger is imminent, many reflexively act to warn others, getting them ready for the impending conflict.

Sometimes the work of acquiring a lost relic means making a quick replacement to fool casual inspection. Stealing an item from a treasure vault, tossing the fake somewhere where the bad guy will be fully occupied trying to get it, or simply handing it over to the bad guy to buy time to get the real way safely away. However, these fakes rarely stand up to close examination.

Many also learn not just the nature of many monsters but also their vital areas, letting them strike with the intent of bleeding said foes.

While any brute can force a door open, stronger pathfinder agents often learn to break open doors with precise application of force to just the right area.

Some learn to use their wayfinders to store a little extra magic, giving them an extra casting of one of their minor spells.

Honing their powers of recollection and information processing, some can recall information about multiple foes at once.

They can even recall information in the blink of an eye, which can mean life or death against certain foes.

There are many dangerous effects that can leave allies reeling and unable to act at their fullest when it’s needed most, so some learn to quickly refocus their allies to bring them back to their senses.

The more magical often learn to use the magic of their wayfinders to change their appearance and disguise the item itself as another badge of office.

Whether it’s an ancient text while monsters batter down the door, a bas relief threatening to crumble into the sea, or a similar situation, sometimes an archaeologist needs to memorize a lot of information quickly. So, some agents learn to hone their recollection to replicate the information later in a more portable medium.

When they realize they’re about to accidentally set off a trap, many Pathfinders have the wherewithal to warn their allies so that they can better avoid or resist the effects.

More battle-savvy members learn how to analyze their foes to pinpoint their greatest vulnerabilities and resistances.

Inevitably, most Pathfinders acquire a lot of different magical items, but the nature of magical investure means that one can normally only make use of so many at once. However, in an emergency, some of these agents can quickly swap out and re-invest a new item on the fly, giving them some more flexibility.

There are a lot of abilities to choose from here, so there’s something for everyone. Everything from improving knowledge checks against enemies to trap utility to some bonus magic and trickery. You definitely won’t be able to take it all, but if any of these abilities appeal to you and you want to play up your character’s connection to the society, this archetype may be for you. Be warned though, if you’re looking to view this archetype in it’s original written form, all of these abilities are split between three books, with two of them adding to the original. The drawbacks of adding to pre-existing content.

With such diverse abilities ranging from scholarly to practical, it’s clear that the Pathfinder Society actively encourages it’s members to pursue their own individual paths to mastery at their own pace and goal, which is pretty neat. Of course, you can use this archetype for any sort of adventuring or archaeological organization just fine with some tweaking.

After being refused access to the magistrate’s vault to reference a tablet within, the party is forced to use their talents to break in and study it directly. However, the party ends up encountering a group of ninja while on the heist. Are they guardians hired to protect the vault, or assassins with a mission of their own? There is little time to ponder such questions, as the fight threatens to alert the other guardians.

Normally content to explore alone, the android scholar Analysis-707 occassionally returns to civilization to recruit adventurers for larger expeditions. This time, however, he seems even more withdrawn than usual about what it is that he’s discovered and wants to explore, putting the rest of the crew on edge.

The mystery of what happened to the mighty angelic general Monvial has been lost to time, but it is said that the ruins of is last known location, the forgotten city of Gussk, may hold the answer… Those who dare to seek it discover the horrifying truth in a mural that reveals Monvial’s fall from grace and transformation into the entity Laivnom, a mighty Rhevanna and enemy to all celestials and goodness.

[wildissylupus]

I LOVE those Junker bios and backstories! Are you planning on doing more? Maybe the Overwatch agents?

Oh absolutely!! I've technically done a couple descriptions on how some Overwatch agents would be but they weren't deep dives, it'll also probably take longer then the Junker characters cause there are a lot more Overwatch characters then Junkers. Also because of the fact that the Overwatch and Talon groups have more cinematics and comics I will probably be referencing them in a Mirrorwatch context for some of the descriptions.

Anyway might as well get into it here.

-----------------------

Doomfist - Strike Commander Ogundimu

Honestly he's the easiest to describe as we already know a lot about him from voice lines and interviews. Though his history is still largely unknown, we know that his motivation is largely the same, just changed to the strong must protect the weak. I also think that in this universe, Akande isn't the third Doomfist, but the second, being chosen by Adhabu Ngumi to be his successor. This version of Adhabu Ngumi likely being MW!Overwatch's first strike commander. Personality wise I think he's pretty much the same but a lot more heroic. I think an in game example that would be a good reference is Bonebreaker, another alternate Doomfist who's also a hero. Though despite this more heroic Doomfist, I still think he would have been arrested. Mainly because I doubt that he would have respected the Petras Act, likely continuing his Overwatch work.

Widowmaker - Captain Lacroix

Like Doomfist Amelie is easy to do as we have voice lines for her. We know that she has a high focus of justice and retribution, we know she was close with Ramattra, that her Gerard is still alive (either still an agent or retired) and that her eye was likely shot out by Ana. Interestingly though, she seemed to have a close connection to Sam, which makes sense as Sam and Gerard likely worked together on diplomacy, though it is also likely that Ana trained Amelie in this universe. As the voice lines that Amelie has with Ana not only imply that Ana worked for Overwatch before Talon but they also have an inflection that implies a previous close relationship between the two. It's also shown that Sombra and Amelie are close in this universe as well, and considering that Sombra and Cassidy likely switched places, I like to think that both Amelie and Gerard were both Blackwatch agents at some point. Personality wise I think this version of Amelie is a lot goofier, making spider puns and maybe even helping Sombra with pranks. I also think she's incredibly stubborn and loyal, an absolute beast on the field but her care for the people around her can cause her to hesitate, hence why she lost her eye. Though what's interesting is that Amelie chose to get a prostetic eye and has seemingly gotten augmentations on the other eye as well. Which makes it seems she's insecure in her abilities as a sniper.

Sombra - Agent Olivia Colomar

Sombra most likely started off as a Blackwatch agent, taken in after Overwatch conducted a sting operation against Los Muertos. I still think that she would find out about "The Conspiracy" but that would be something she discovered after Zurich. Likely resulting in her going off the grid until Doomfist was broken out. As I said before she's close with Amelie but I also think she would be close with Echo in this timeline too, recognizing that the learning AI that she has is learning more then just battle tactics. I don't think much would change about her personality wise, she would likely be less prone to blackmail but even that's a stretch.

Echo - Stealth Unit

Created by a Mina Liao that had full given up on recreating the sentience that Aroura had. MW!Echo would have been strictly made for combat, but still using a highly advanced learning AI for maximum efficacy. An unintended side effect of this was that Echo's learning capabilities eventually progressed past battle strategies. This lead to Echo having a more clinical and straight forward personality, not being as excited to learn but intrigued by what else she could be capable of. She was likely still quarantined after Zurich but was saved from Talon hands by Ashe.

Reaper - Gabriel Reyes

I think that the original strike team was likely still the same for Mirrorwatch, especially with the knowledge that Ana was with Overwatch at some point and Reinhardt is being implied to be brainwashed. Though I do think that with Jack and Gabe specifically they immediately joined Talon after the Crisis. Reyes loosing faith in changing the system during the crisis because of public reaction towards Overwatch during the crisis. However that changed as he watch what Overwatch turned into, bringing in pepole like Ashe and Sombra, giving them a chance at a different life. What also helped was his connection to Cassidy, even if their dynamic was strained because of their environment, they were still close, and because of that Reyes has always felt guilt about what he helped Cassidy turn into. That was a big motivation as to why Reyes defected from Talon, seeking out Overwatch to make up for all the pain he caused. During this escape however, Jack chased him down and during the altercation an explosion happened that presumably killed Jack (it didn't, Jack just saw Gabe's defection as a good sign to retire), and left Gabe incredibly wounded. Even with being a super soldier, the wounds were too much. That's when Moira found him and helped him the best she could, but it was not an easy process and Reyes was left permanently changed. It took years for the side affect of Moira's impromptu treatment to be dealt with to the point where Reyes wasn't in excruciating pain all the time. When he was treated though, he immediately set off to right his wrongs, his first act in redemption was saving Dr. Siebren de Kuiper from a Talon abduction with the help of Agent Colomar.

Moira - Head of Medical/Field Medic O'deorain

Moira was made Overwatch's head of Medical soon after Akande took the title of Strike Commander. Which was something that surprised her as her medical research was considered controversial, though those who said that often ignored the key detail that all experiments, she used herself as the test subject. Moira is a person who is fully in the belief that even if she doesn't have the time to be entitled to patience, her research will live on and eventually be picked up by someone else. She is highly aware of recovery time and often dissuades un-needed surgeries because of this. This is a problem when it comes to Amelie as she believes that she needs more augmentations to keep up with Ana and other Talon operatives, a sentiment only increased by Ramattra's death. Moira holds a lot of guilt for the things she's had to do with Overwatch, mainly being forced to do experimental treatments that resulted in less the good side effects.

Sigma - Dr. Siebren de Kuiper

Sigma's story would mostly be the same except he was saved by Overwatch instead of captured by Talon Talon. Which would lead to his mind and abilities being a lot more stable. I think he would still be close with Sombra as well as Hammond, but with the addition of him genuinely being close with Moira and Reaper. I don't think he'd go into the field that often, his powers still being unstable, but he does help out where he can. When he does go into the field though he mostly tries to protect his teammates and assets in civilian rescue.

Mauga - Ecopoint Liberator

I think this Mauga would be largely the same personality wise however morality would be very different, specifically I think this version of Mauga turned against the Deepsea Raiders and helped liberate the Samoan Ecopoint. That becoming his home base until Sombra got in contact with him and asked him to join Overwatch. I like to think that in this universe Mauga and Bapiste meet but it's while Baptiste is undercover trying to get information on what's happening with the Ecopoint to Talon. Mauga being a good way in.

Wrecking Ball - Hammond

Hammond is the same as Winston, basically just Hammond but he landed in Gibraltar instead of Australia. Though one this to consider is that Hammond likely struggled to get the same rights Winston did in canon, due to the fact that Hammond is a hamster and can't talk the same way the Winston can. Hammond becoming an Overwatch agent likely causing more outrage. Also because of this I think Hammond would have been made more of a mascot by the public the Winston was. Hammond most likely hating this. Basically Hammond is motivated to do good because that's what the people around him do, his friends want to do good, want to save people. So he'll follow their lead because even if he doesn't care for the general public, he cares about his friends.

Ashe

I've talked about Ashe a bit already but to summerise it, Ashe's parents where likely into more illegal dealings even before Ashe started her gang, which caused them to act differently when it came to Ashe lashing out. They manipulated her into thinking they had changed their ways and were becoming better people, which lead to Ashe betraying the other Deadlocks and going back to her parents. Which as you can tell, was a bad choice. After Ashe had basically cut off her entire support network Ashe's parents basically became worse then they were before, firing B.O.B and getting Ashe heavily involved with the family business. All the while still not paying her any mind as their daughter, now more as a nuisance they needed to keep an eye on. Until Overwatch took her parents down and offered Ashe a position in Blackwatch. Where she also reunited with B.O.B and Frankie. Ashe lives with a lot of guilt for her past action, guilt only increased when Blackwatch started getting invloved with Talon and she saw what became of Cassidy.

[justatalkingface]

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Four (Chapters 12-21): Team Deathmatch!

So, first thing, we have a bunch of reporters creeping on kids for news. I... am not a fan of this. Like, I get that, in story, heroes are celebrities, and so UA is effectively a school about becoming famous, but I've never been a fan of this kind of paparazzi, or that kind of fame in general.

More relevantly, since this is a school to, among other things, turn these kids into celebrities...why do we never see them prepare the students for that fact? There's a bare nod to rescuing people later on (hardly enough for how important that is, and even that is in the License Exam, and it's implied 1A was never taught about that at all... for reasons, presumably the same reason Aizawa never mentioned that literally everyone is going to try and murder them in the exam... and outside of right now, where it doesn't happen, I don't think we ever see them train in that) and from there how to interact with victims, but for such a media dominated field, you'd think there'd be classes on, you know, how to talk to a reporter. And, sure, maybe there's some on later, but they've already been getting field work by that point, for years, well publicized field work, so it feels just a tad too late at that point.

Anyways, obvious focus on the UA Barrier for later, then straight to evaluations, where Aizawa tells Bakugou to stop acting like a seven year old'

...

Because, you know, that's how all seven year olds behave, I guess.

All those seven year old children, trying to murder anyone they don't like, stabbing people with knives, smashing each in the head with crowbars, you know, normal stuff. Kids being kids, amiright?

Then we turn to Izuku, and while, yes, Izuku not breaking his arm would be good.... do you, perchance, have a suggestion to help with that goal, Aizawa? You know, as his teacher? Who is supposed to teach him things?

Ah, yes, there it is: I want to see some sweat out of you. 'Work hard, Izuku, because clearly, the catastrophic, crippling injuries you've been dealing to yourself, which must be agonizing, aren't enough incentive for you to improve; clearly you're just being lazy here, and there's no other potential factors holding you back from improving beyond this disappointing performance.'

Sweet flying fuck, how in the hell did this guy train Shinsou? 'Here's the scarf, figure it out, I want to see results by tomorrow?'

And then they just move on, so... I guess only Bakugou and Midoriya get called out in class. Cool, cool.

Hmm. Alright, so we next we get some actual school shenanigans, and I... have mixed feelings about this.

On one hand, this is exactly the character developing, 'let it breath' stuff we've been wanting in MHA current for... years now, basiclly. Paying attention to characters when they're not actively fighting and what not is something essential for making them seem less like characters and more like people, which... you kinda want for a good story.

On the other hand, I just find this boring. I wasn't interested in who gets to be student president last time, and I'm not really now, either.

(As a side note, it's hyped up as being SPECIAL and HEROIC and IMPORTANT FOR DEVELOPING A HEROIC FOUNDATION, or whatever, which is why we're supposed to care about it, but all of that never happens, so... that's a lie. Also, kinda dumb? This isn't a military organization, there's no real reason to train heroes to command other heroes.)

Here's the thing: the content, itself, isn't the problem; a great story writer can make even the most boring shit seem interesting. I vividly remember a manga about farming, for example. Just farming, before anyone starts thinking of whatever farm Isekei may come to mind. On the face of it, that may sound boring, but it was engrossing all the same, because of how well it was written, how involved the characters were in process. There's shonen stories that manage to make the 'school' part of the story just as interesting as the, 'And now you and me fight' parts, but MHA... just isn't it. If I had to guess, it's probably how dismissive the story is about those parts; before we even get to that, after all, we already have Aizawa making it clear how useless and superflicious normal schooling is, and he continues that stance well into the story.

If one of the main characters of the story, here being Aizawa (AKA the teacher who is heavily emphasized in story about how 'wise' he is), is dismissive about something, and there's nothing in story to really counter that perception, then yeah, the story probably isn't going to be covering that topic in an interesting way.

TLDR: I don't think Hori doesn't give a shit about the 'Academia' part of My Hero Academia, and it shows.

Anyways, there's some pointless school drama, and the only things I'm getting out of it outside of some foundational character stuff is that: the kids are all idiots, with how they were mobbing when the alarm went off (and the teachers are alarmingly absent when said alarm went off; shouldn't a security alert be when you secure the children?), Iida is too pure for this world, and god that whiplash is going to hit hard, and finally that U.A. is way too OK with the fact that someone broke in.

(Well, that and, for all that I'm very much not a fan of pushy reporters invading things they have no right to... Present Mic literally says that this is going from illegal trespassing into villainy. How?????

Seriously, how?! The only thing they're doing, beyond the trespassing, is... ignoring them and being assholish about questions?

Why in the actual fuck is he asking permission to blow them away!? Mic???? I thought you were the good teacher! )

Anyways, Izuku dodges dealing with shyness, Iida gets promoted over Momo to be president, and Nezu gets to sound ridiculous talking about an 'element of evil'. Yeah.

Next chapter: We see All Might using his time in a far more productive way, and a nod to the fact that heroes jobs are literally built around crime happening.

That's exactly how I responded when I first heard Izuku told Bakugou about OFA, All Might! (Although, Izuku explicitly says he didn't tell his mom, so... what did he say? There's a serious conversation here that we're just not getting.)

*Snort*

'Dark forces would flow forth in legions'. I mean, he's not wrong, but All Might only barely pulls that off because he's, like I said, hammier than ham in general, but the fact all the heroes randomly have asides like that, no matter how serious they are, was always jarring about this early on stuff.

...'Trial' of Rescue? It makes it sound like your testing them on stuff they should have no way of possibly knowing; if things went differently, would you have threatened to expel the last place student here as well, Aizawa? NGL, though, feels weird that costumes are optional for this because 'they might not be adapted'. I mean... for all the shit you dump on them to force them to adapt, you'd think doing things in your costume, that you are potentially going to be wearing all the time, would be an obvious choice. Wouldn't it be better to figure out if your costume needs work now rather than later?

And why are costumes in the classroom...? I mean, they'll need to leave to change anyways, it'd make a lot more sense to just have a changing area where the costumes are stored at.

Bus time.

You know, one of the things that strikes me, here, is how everyone is acting; there is no fear, loathing or shunning of Bakugou for happened last arc, not only for the murder attempt they never properly reacted to, but to the savage beating they were begging All Might to stop the fight over... but, they're not admiring him, either. There's friendly teasing at his expense, even.

And it's like... the fight never happened, in their minds (or Bakugou attacking Izuku on Day One, for that matter). They're acting like they know Bakugou only as a competent, if abrasive, student, and are treating him accordingly. It's kinda fascinating, really, because later they'll forget all of Bakugou's sins, of course, but that's only part of it: they'll fawn over him, because they only get to see this idealized version of Bakugou. Here? They just aren't responding to the worse parts, but they're still generally treating Bakugou like you'd expect someone like Bakugou would be treated. From my perspective of the very ends of the manga, it's really interesting to see this, like an AU where Bakugou both as a person and a character was treated more seriously in the story.

Gotta love that Kaminari Truth Bomb, lol.

Also, for how short this is: the characters are all interacting with each, it's light-hearted and non-serious, the ingredients are the same as they were before, but this is a lot more interesting to read for me than the Class President stuff was. More evidence My Hero Not Academia, I guess.

And now we've arrived at the USJ proper and, again, waaaay too big; the fucking budget this one school has has to be bigger than the budget of some small countries. And... 13 created this? By herself? Yet again, UA teachers have way too much freedom in school, for no apparent reason, because the way this is phrased makes it sound like this entire, giant ass facility, is 13's facility.

All Might: saves people, rather than try (and fail) to teach.

Eraserhead: hOw IRRatiONal.

I get he was supposed to be here, and he is failing as a teacher, but acting like he's being an utter moron by doing his other actual job is a bit much; here starts the point where All Might never gets a win... ever again, really. It's not All Might if someone's not metaphorically kicking him, after all.

You know, for how much of a non-character 13 ends up being, this five seconds of her is really refreshing: this conversation she's having, about how, you know, 'Quirks are dangerous, let's all try not to hurt someone with them' is exactly the conversation you'd think would have started the school year off with; she feels like a lot more realistic teacher than anyone we've seen thus far.

I guess that why Kurogiri's coming to shut her up then, right? We can't have a teacher actually teaching in UA!

....You know, it's easy to forget how weird Tomura was drawn early on. His image is far more... stark than we get later on, more focus on his wrinkles and the shadows on his face; it gives me some Uncanny Valley vibes. Actually, I can really see all the weird-ass horror hand stuff Hori eventually ends up doing in this, because he just looks wrong in some fundamental way, like he doesn't fit in the setting properly.

I've said this before, but I never liked early Tomura, because of how dumb he felt, but if Hori had leaned into this version more, him being off instead of him being childish, it would have made him feel a lot more threatening. But... after this one of his main pieces of characterization is going to be throwing fits, so...

...

Actually, I'm hitting pause here.

So. I, among others, talk about how bad a teacher Aizawa is, but I don't think I've spelled out how dangerous that could be, beyond ruining the students education, if a man in his position was viewed as fundamentally untrustworthy by the students he's in charge of. What we have here is a perfect time to discuss that!

Let's picture the scene, everybody: a dark portal opens, and bunch of weird people rush in. Aizawa goes into Serious Mode, puts on his goggles, and leaps into action, loudly declaring that, 'THOSE ARE VILLIANS!'

Now we turn to students: they look at Aizawa, see how serious he's acting.... and then remember how serious he looked yesterday, right before he told them that the big thing they were worried about was a 'logical ruse'.

Their panic calms slightly, and they think about the situation again from a new light.

What's more likely? That a giant horde of villains have broken into UA facility, famed for how safe it is, staffed by actual heroes? Into a building that is presumably secured and closed off to the public at all times? That they knew to break in now, of all times, just when the class went on a field trip? To a training facility?

Or, that Aizawa is giving them a 'logical ruse' again, with 13 in on it this time, and all these 'villains' are actors to help them learn better? (Just to be clear, here, that's basiclly what happens in the actual License Exam later on: Gang Orca, who is canonly one of the scariest heroes around, 'breaks into' the rescue focused exam with an army of mooks and starts throwing down like he's an actual villain. The only thing that separates this theoretical situation from that actual exam is that it was clear in the exam that the 'villains' were part of the exam.) And that, once they get this little skit out of the way, they'll reveal the joke, mock you if you fall for it, again (that is if Aizawa doesn't threaten to expel you for failing his standards... again), and then everyone will get on with the training.

So, the thing is, in dangerous situations, you need to make the right choice right away; if Iida was more on the ball, for example, maybe he could have escaped the USJ before Kurogiri made his way over to them, and gotten help for everyone that much sooner.

Hesitation, in other words, leads to disaster.

Do you know what's worse than hesitation in a dangerous situation?

Thinking your teacher is punking you like you're on some hidden camera show, and acting accordingly.

Imagine what could have happened when the students were all randomly separated and dropped before packs of villains, if they thought the villains were acting? What could have happened if a bunch of kids, kids with no combat training (beyond Shoto, who had training, and Bakugou, whose trigger happy instincts would have come in handy for once instead of being a dangerous liability), were placed in front of a bunch of people out to murder them, while they treated the situation like a game?

Hell, what if the kids rushed in to fight the villains before that happened, while Eraserhead was bogged down by charging head first into the army of mooks? (Also, couldn't he have... not done that? Some kind of collaborative attack with 13, where she attacks them while Eraserhead nerfs them, maybe? For all that Eraserhead is apparently specialized in a group fight, the guy with no offensive Quirk against a small army seems... a flawed choice.) They're trying to be heroes, after all: brave, probably eager to fight and flex their Quirks some more after a lifetime of keeping them suppressed, of not being allowed to use this intrinsic part of themselves all out. Besides, fighting the 'villains' sounds like a great way to get a good grade, right?

It gets even worse when the villains explain their goals: to kill All Might.

All Might is, let me remind you, the guy who punched a bunch of slime so hard that it started to rain. While he was weakened, no less.

All Might, while he's branded as the Symbol of Peace, is more honestly the Symbol of Victory, more than Bakugou ever will be: he effortlessly crushes every obstacle before him, doing it all with a smile and a quip, throughout his entire career. The peace he is so famous for is built on the idea that he never loses, and that this is a universally acknowledged fact.

He is so strong, so overwhelmingly competent, that he has made Japan, as a nation, simultaneously safer and more willing to sit on their hands and do nothing. He is so unstoppably successful at his job that Endeavour, who is second only to All Might himself (by... whatever metric that's judged off of), gets a villainous backstory trying to keep up with him.

In MHA, before the main story happens, a bunch of randos saying that they're going to kill All Might is like me saying I'm going to beat up Mount Everest.

It's ludicrous, in other words. Anyone saying it is either actively insane... or clearly lying through their teeth.

If Shigaraki's Uncanny Valley factor was just a little weaker, just a little less alarming, if they decided Aizawa was just lying to them again, and that this was just another example of UA's extreme training philosophy, they could have been slaughtered because this man couldn't be bothered to put the effort into his actual job, which he is getting paid for, and focus on his students in any real way.

This is the problem with Aizawa, the Teacher. As a hero, sure, he's great, and him jumping right away to defending the kids is good and all, but as a teacher? He is so fucking lazy that his students could have been, and in all honesty should have been, killed because they have no reason to trust his directions, especially in a serious, unusual situation.

If you can't trust the person in charge of you to make wise decisions in times of danger, or this case communicate those decisions to you and be trusted, then they are a liability, and for a man in Aizawa's situation, with his job, his responsibility to these kids? That is unacceptable.

...

Anyways. Villains show up, Eraserhead wades in (and then Hori makes sure to have Izuku and Shigaraki talk him up! You're so cool, Eraserhead! Make sure the readers know just how awesome you are as you effortlessly plow through the mooks! And I love how he punches a guy twice his size, who is made out of rock, and sends this guy flying, somehow, and doesn't break his hand in the process), then Kurogiri rolls up, monologues like an edgelord, and yeets all the kids, but not before the Bakugou and Kirishima dynamic is founded by.... failing utterly.

*sigh*

Seriously, Mineta? You're half drowned and in serious risk of getting murdered, and now you perv? This is why he's so hated, BTW: not because he's a pervert, but because that's almost his entire characterization. Jiraiya is a creepy, spying pervert as well, sure, but he's beloved by the Naruto fandom because he does all this other stuff that isn't being a creep, that makes him seem like an interesting person. He has relationships, and develops more, that don't revolve around breasts, which gives us a good, humanizing take on him beyond that character flaw.

Mineta's second character trait after being a pervert is being a coward, and... I don't think he really has friends? It's not a good look, to say the least. And yes, I know he gets a 'brave moment' here, where he surpasses his cowardice.... that is to say, where he literally throws things from a distance, but that happens for... all of two panels, and isn't that impressive even when it does happen. Then afterwards it's right back to normal. The notes say Hori had a hard time balancing his character against Hori's natural perviness, and honestly I'm just surprised this is the balanced version?

Anyways, everyone has to fight, and we see Izuku have to deal with the situation. He forces his way past his fear, his hesitation, to the realization he has to act, and then commits to it.

He observes the situation, comes to several realizations from what he sees, from how the villains act and the environment they're in. Then he comes up with an unorthodox plan, built around using his classmates various abilities effectively, and then executes it, claiming an overwhelming victory despite the odds against him.

This, all of this? All of this is far more interesting to read than his fights have been lately. This Izuku is easier to root for, easier to be concerned about, easier to like, than when we know he's going to beat everyone else up because he's OP. He's relatable like this, and that is a magic word for keeping people involved in your story.

Then everyone else fights, and most of it isn't that interesting. One notable one is the Momo, Kaminari and Jirou fight where: they also come up with a creative plan to win, Momo gets to use her powers usefully.... and then Kiminari is literally nerfed into being an idiotic pervert (like the one we already have isn't enough?), while Momo's shirt is torn off. Because of course. Then Kiminari is beat up for the suffering the mental version of Izuku's bone breaking side effect, because he can't win anything; god, it must suck to be him.

...Do you know how surreal it feels to watch Tomura be competent? Seriously, he's in a hand to hand brawl with Eraserhead, doing well despite the fact this should be something he doesn't actually do that often, considering his Quirk, he's calculating Aizawa's weak points... this guy feels like a threat, and I don't usually have that impression of him until the Villain Arc. I... I'm genuinely wondering if he always was this threatening, far more than I remember, and that some bad takes on him became the most memorable trait of him that became his fanon characterization, or he gets nerfed after his introduction like All Might was.

Ah, the Classic Noumu. The very one that screwed up my view on every other version; god, this one is a monster. He's an impossible behemoth of a thing, easily beating every enemy he comes against, crushing Eraserhead as a brutal introduction. Great first impression, but he makes all the other versions until the High Ends show up seem bizarrely weak for all the fuss they get.

And then All Might comes in.

And he isn't smiling.

Remember in an earlier post how I mentioned that All Might acts hammy to appear non-threatening? Well, I feel validated. (You know, until he promptly loses.)

...That is Actually Bowser. There's actually a Bowser-lite character, canonly, in MHA. Huh.

Anyways, it's faced up against Serious Might that makes Noumu seem that big of a threat, the fact that Tomura takes his arrival so well makes him that much more disturbing; I keep saying this, but this arc was a damn good intro for him.

Oh, hey! Remember when the strongest warper in setting was a threat in combat? This arc does; an ability like that could be lethal if used right, and it's nice seeing that in action, when later Kurogiri is devolved in a largely passive porter for The Team.

And then Izuku charges in! And then Bakugou... 'helps', ugh. I've gotten spoiled by all the chapters where he was 'dead'; I forgot how much he used to be shoved into every possible situation, in the best possible way to make his otherwise alarming behavior look good.

Like. He's not doing the right thing here, like everyone else is (even Shoto, who feels disconnected from the situation). He's doing what he wants, and it's just happening to help everyone else, yet it's getting shown as the 'right' thing. It's just frustrating for him to get these 'hero' shots of him looking and acting unhinged, but knowing I'm supposed to find that heroic.

And here, Tomura is pointing out what I pointed out earlier: All Might's 'peace' is based on the threat of superior violence, which... is quickly ignored because he's a murder hobo. Mixed feelings about that; as a character, for where he is in the story, for who he's supposed to be, he's exactly the kind of person to act off that logic, but he does have a good point, and I don't think anyone else brings it up, really? All Might being dissed for being All Might later is based off him no longer being a hero, and society is falling apart and all that, never that the peace itself is based off the threat of him.

...That said, why the hell doesn't All Might just... grab the Noumu again? If Kurogiri isn't hard countering that kind of thing, there's nothing really stopping All Might from grabbing the Noumu's wrist and just yeeting the guy. It's a big, dramatic moment, I get it, overcoming the shock absorption with power and sheer determination, but it's also dumb.

Also, hope that Noumu doesn't land in anybody's house or anything, lol.

Eight or nine last minute saves later, and it's all over save for the All For One introduction; ah, the nostalgia of 'Sensei', plotting from the shadows. I missed him being threatening.

Minor thing, but I like that brief moment of humanizing on the previously aloof Shoto when he realized Hagakure was there when he was fighting, it's a nice touch showing that he's more than his facade without slapping us in the face with it, a good setup for later.

Oh, and here's some extra Aizawa hypocrisy for you: he goes on and on about how bad Izuku is at taking care of himself, but we got a butcher's bill about all the damage inflicted on him. Next day? He shows up mummified. Great example, there; and it's set up just to show how.... badass he is, I guess? But it's annoying that they went through all that work setting up how badly he's damaged just to gloss over it, and yet Izuku's injuries are about to be taken seriously.

Awkward end of chapter cliffhanger!

[positivelybeastly]

X-Men #4

On time for once!

Let's do this.

Hmm. Not quite sure how I feel about this? Admittedly, Illyana is a character about whom I know relatively little in the grand scheme of things, but given that she's been fighting for control of Limbo for a while, been a protege of Scott Summers, and was a War Captain on Krakoa, I would think her tactical skills would be up to snuff enough that she could be half decent at chess?

That being said, the trope that tactical ability can be measured by chess ability isn't one that I think has to be followed. It's as much a test of logic as it is of tactical planning and forethought, and between Illyana's more chaotic nature and her lack of formal schooling, maybe it's just the case that she would rather show you how good she is in the field than go on about chess ability. And I can think of a good reason why she would choose to play chess with the person she has blocked, rather than any other game.

Anyway!

Trevor Fitzroy isn't allowed his weird little gremlin bro-pal possible love interest guy Bantam anymore, because of woke. (I know fuckin' nothing about Fitzroy, incidentally, this is based off of their weird relationship in that one X-Men: TAS episode I watched.)

And yeah, what WAS Krakoa all about, huh? Where DID all those babies that got abandoned go?

. . . Well, anyway!

Hank, chairs are for sitting on, not perching on . . .

It's interesting that we're doing split team issues - clearly, this run is taking cues from New X-Men not just in terms of some of its plot points, but also some of its structure; there were multiple arcs that focused exclusively on Charles and Jean, or Logan, Scott and Fantomex, with the rest of the team in the ether. It's not a bad way to tackle a team of this size, and given the news that both Magik and Psylocke are getting ongoing solo series, I'm less worried about them getting focus in a team book now.

Where is the Marauder, incidentally? I can't imagine you need that for a psychic rescue? Unless Max is using it, I suppose. Something that'll come up in #5, I imagine.

It's a sign of just how poisoned the discourse about Hank McCoy is that I saw multiple comments on Reddit saying that this scene heralded a return to evil Beast, because he also didn't like to go out on field missions and would regard his work as more important.

That being said, this reaction was weird to me, given that this Hank comes from an era where he was at his most pro-active, heroic, and willing to fight for people he didn't know - until I read the Infinity Comics, which made it all make a good degree more sense.

Hank isn't being cowardly or showing a case of poor priorities; no, instead, he appears not to trust himself, and he'd rather not place what he perceives to be a volatile, potentially morally untrustworthy element (himself) into a live situation. Working on Magneto's illness is a cut and dry net good with no downsides, so it makes sense he'd want to keep working on that, especially if Hank has reason to believe a similar condition could affect any one of them at any time.

Not sure I love Illyana's antagonism towards Rogue here? Feels kinda like it came out of nowhere and is just being done to foreshadow the upcoming 4 part crossover where these two teams come to a head. Scott's frustration with Rogue's attack on Graymalkin in #3 felt a bit more naturalistic than this.

Idie icesliding like that really does make me wonder if MacKay also wanted Iceman for this team but he was earmarked for Eve Ewing's Exceptional book. I doubt it, just because MacKay's done some really good, pointed work with Idie, which continues in this issue, but the visual parallel is just hard to get out of my brain.

I missed this Hank, a lot.

Also, good time to note that we do have a different artist here! Netho Diaz's style isn't a million miles away from Ryan Stegman's, so it's not a very jarring shift, and I do like how Diaz renders a lot of these characters - less heavily stylised, but heavily styilised isn't always to everyone's taste, so I feel like this was a good pick of fill-in artist.

Man. Have I mentioned I missed this Hank, a LOT? That happy little smile on his face in the bottom right panel really does delight me.

Still not quite the bouncing effervescence of Defenders Hank, but this is still very solidly 90s Hank, who I do rather enjoy, especially when he's in the hands of a writer who knows when to really let his loquacious qualities out to play, and when to let brevity be the soul of wit.

Idie's really come a long way since Wolverine & the X-Men, and I'm really, honestly, very happy to see it. She's coming from a place of real experience and wisdom and the struggle of loving yourself in what can feel like a loveless world, and I hope MacKay continues to showcase her maturation and development. Considering how worried I was that she'd be wallpaper in this series, this is encouraging stuff.

If you had asked me which member of this team of X-Men I expected to give what amounts to a really popping Batman speech, I would not have picked Cain Marko, but this feels real and earned in light of his genuine Krakoan redemption. The elevation from avatar of destruction to protector, to bodyguard, to living target, is fucking awesome.

Yeah, work that pole, Hank.

That being said, this dialogue does still sound kinda weird for Hank. This feels a little more like X-Force Beast than anything else, so I'm wondering if this is a seed of something, or if Hank is just kinda frustrated that what feels like a side quest popped up just as he was about to progress the main quest and enter act 2. God knows that if I woke up in the morning and found out I had to tangle with Trevor Fitzroy and the Upstarts, I would also be a little annoyed - this feels a little bottom of the barrel for the X-Men.

The X-Men fandom at large just heaved a great sigh and said, in unison, "Oh, this fucker."

Not the AoA geneticist I would have wanted to see in this book, but I'll take it, I suppose. Hopefully we get an explanation about where this guy came from, because I was fairly certain he was dead? Not that that's ever stopped anyone before, but just, you know, so we can put it on the Wiki and all.

Laksa! Apparently a spicy noodle dish, usually made with thick rice noodles, with toppings such as chicken, straw, or fish - that being said, given we were told that Glob is a vegetarian and that he therefore only cooks vegetarian, I have to imagine this might be a coconut soup laksa that might include eggs, deep-fried tofu, beansprouts, and herbs, or some variation thereof.

Hank definitely seems to approve. :)

God, please tell me that Colossus is going to join the team, I would absolutely love for Jed MacKay to get to work on our beefy Russian lad, he deserves some TLC after the trauma conga line that was Krakoa and the years before that.

Interesting that he's a blocked number and yet they're still interacting, but then again, I have a browser extension that blocks Reddit on my computer, and I still go on Reddit, so maybe that rings truer than I'd like to admit.

This leads me to my guess as to the reason of why chess - it's playable long distance, and doesn't require any elaboration on moves. You just say the piece and where you're moving them to. Something easy to play with someone who doesn't feel communicative. A way of talking without really talking.

All in all, a decent issue, but it definitely feels more in line with #2 than #1 or #3 - I almost have to wonder if the edict to double ship issues came down, and MacKay felt more able to decompress things and spread them out across multiple issues as a result, especially since I think that, if this were paced more tightly, we'd be progressing through the plot fairly quickly.

If we're taking New X-Men as the blueprint, Morrison would absolutely have squished the last four issues into two - but they weren't double shipping, so.

If we're looking at odd numbers being the plot heavy, characterisation heavy issues, and the evens being action and a bit more 'filler' issues, then I don't think that's an awful structure - I just think that, in a world where single issues cost $3-4 a pop, people might start skipping the even numbered issues in an effort to save money. This might read better in trades, which feels A) bad to say, and also B) increasingly common about modern comics. Not sure how I feel about it.

[magnoliabutters]

• FEELING EVERYTHING •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: so what kas saved your life?! it’s not like you owe him everything…

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; canon divergence, enemies to lovers trope, season 4 spoilers, previous parts mentioned; sexy angst, slight suicidal ideation, manipulation, child abuse (previous trauma mentioned), toxic ass kas, sexual advances tied with a misunderstanding, hot and cold dynamics, dwugs, depression, grief, anxiety (panic), y/n count: 3, etc.

word count: ~8.9k

reblogs, comments, & thoughts are appreciated 🦇

• stories of eddie munson series • season two • previous part •

note: as always, thank you for the patience! we're almost coming to a close y'all! in this part, i tried to challenge myself to focus more on describing the visuals and the scene. let me know your thoughts! i cannot wait to read your reactions!

note to the note: my partner, who was so kind to beta-read, found an inconsistency around the border of vecna’s “new world.” you may or may not catch it. i just wanna share i am aware, and i am upset haha unfortunately caught it too late 🥲

The dried grass is rough against your shins. A sea of plains ahead that curl into waves with each blow of the wind. The orange streaked sky, a beautiful sight, now a daunting reminder to find shelter before the night. You wish you could have been here any other time. The gorgeous way the sunlight trickles onto the glossy leaves of the trees. The way the sun feels against your skin. The air just cold enough that the warmth of its rays feel nostalgic. 

Eddie would have loved this. The opportunity to find civilization, as though it was some challenging quest. He would have compared it to some battle his Dungeons and Dragons character led the party into. His arms stretched out as he passionately tells the tale of how they won the fight with only a sliver of a chance. A heroic and miraculous story that only he could tell correctly. 

He always told stories in a way that made you feel as though you were actually there, feeling each and every emotion. All the ups and downs. He had you clinging to the edge of your seat, clinging onto every word no matter the topic. Your heart warms at the thought of that beautiful mouth speaking a million words a second as he excitedly shares a story. God, how you wish you could see him again. 

The uncomfortable scratching of the heavy grass continues to remind you that an oversized t-shirt and panties is not the ideal hiking gear. Not that you exactly had a choice. You struggle to step through the field, stumbling along with your arms held out wide for balance.

“You look like a bird,” Kas scoffs as his thick leather boots crunch against the yellow waves of the pasture. His bare chest still littered with pink scratches. He carelessly plows through the tall grass. Your eyes instinctually roll, leaving another muffled chuckle to drop from his lips. Your hands gradually fall to your side as embarrassment seeps into your pores. 

“Do you even know where we’re going?” he mutters as he swats away a horse fly. Your annoyance levels have been seriously dampened with the recent events. Kas’ constant “are we there yet” attitude is not helping in the slightest. “I figure if we keep heading north, we’ll get to the highway and,” you bite your lip, tensing your brow as you point over the vast hill. “Um, we’ll just hitchhike.” You shrug, looking back at him with a weakly confident expression. His face deadpanned as he stares back at you with lack lustered eyes. 

“Hitchhike?” Kas asks with a monotone. “Yeah,” you grumble in hesitancy. “Doesn’t everyone in a fifty mile radius of Hawkins think I am some satanic serial killer?” he inquires with the side of his lip pulled as he stares at you in judgment. Your eyes fall as you realize your mistake. “Well, um, let’s just find the highway first and figure out what to do from there,” you utter as you push through another bundle of grass. “Okay,” he says in a sing-songy voice as he walks off in front of you. 

This is your life now. You try your best not to compare between the two - knowing that would cause you nothing but pain, but it’s hard. It’s so hard to know what you had and what you have lost, and what you have now. A small part of you wishes you had nothing at all.

With great love, comes great vulnerability and despair. You find yourself wondering if it was worth it. If loving Eddie was worth the pain of losing him. Of having his complete opposite inhabit his body and parade the fact that he is no longer the love of your life. In fact, he punishes you for thinking that, as if you could resist the urge. The agony you feel, both physical and emotional, almost pushes you off the edge. The question of “is it worth it?” echoes through your mind. 

Kas looks ahead of the pairing. He notes a break in the clear pasture and sees a tree line. His eyes discern its distance, noting that it is a rather thin tree line. Suddenly, he sees motion rushing by behind the trunks. The only vehicles he is used to were filled with and destroyed by Vecna’s blackened veins, but he still identifies the motion as cars. Excitement fills his chest as he hurriedly turns around with a finger pointing at the tree line. 

But when he turns, his smile disappears. He watches as your eyes are glued to the ground. Your face is solemn. The edges of your beautiful lips turned downward as your hair covers your face. The excitement immediately shifts to worry as he takes a step towards you. His hand slowly moves to your gaze, interrupting your thoughts. 

As your head innocently raises towards him, Kas shoots you a comforting smile. His hands, both naturally and hesitantly, flow to the sides of your arms. You decide to shoot him a weak grin as you appreciate what he is trying so hard to do. And with that, Kas pulls you in - deeply pressured against his chest as his arms wrap around your upper back. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers against your ear. His chin finding a place upon the top of your shoulder. Such a familiar feeling, Eddie’s embrace, and yet you have another reminder of his lost presence. You want him so badly. You wish he could be here. That his true self was holding you, comforting you. Your hands fall upon the base of his spine, pulling him tightly into you. Abruptly, the sobs fall from your lips as you push yourself deeper against the warmth of his skin. 

Kas knows you are hurting - who wouldn’t be after what you have been through? The thing is he wasn’t sure exactly how much pain filled your saddened soul, but once he heard those sobs - he knew. It is gut wrenching to feel your body heave against his. The pain is so much worse than the sensation of your nails digging against his skin. His hands smooth out your back as he attempts to comfort your contorting body. 

Finally, you feel it. You feel everything you have pushed deep within yourself since you heard of Eddie’s passing. The pain. The anguish. The betrayal. The threat of death. The fear of death - an actual impending death - no longer one in the far off future. You lost the love of your life. 

Eddie is dead. 

And your heart has felt empty since your realization of this. Your knees give out and both you and Kas fall to the floor. Kneeling beside each other and still stuck in a beautiful embrace. 

As tears stream down your face, Kas pulls away slightly to look at you. His brows push together as his thumb traces against your cheeks. “Sh, sh, sh,” he whispers as one of his hands caresses the back of your head. He pulls you gently and closer to his chest. His chin now resting against your hairline. 

Abruptly, you pull away, sniffling as you do. You are confident you look a hot mess but you don’t care, not even a little. You wipe your nose as your eyes darken before him. He stares at you in confusion and worry. His body aching for your touch. 

“You said you saved me,” you start slowly, attempting to push down the sobs that climb your throat. “That you would have never killed me.” Kas nods with curiosity as your eyes raise to his. “I-I want to talk about something and I don’t want to hear shit about it,” you spit out harshly. However, your expression immediately returns to the vulnerable girl that Kas has grown to love. It leaves a hint of a smile on his face.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asks softly. With a deep sigh, you mumble, “I want to talk about Eddie.” Kas winces at the name, something you immediately notice. Another physical pain shoots through your chest as you prepare your body for his rejection. He takes a deep breath, placing his palms to his knees as he slowly nods with eyes to the ground beneath you both.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. Your heart fills with joy, enough to completely disregard his body language. Soft sobs follow your laughter. Your hand pushes the tears away from your cheeks as he slowly raises his head. “He was beautiful,” you choke out whimpers with an ambiguous smile to your face. “He is easily the best person I have ever met,” you laugh out weakly.

A small, tight smile forms on Kas’ face as his hand slides behind your head once again. He pulls you into the side of his neck. His other hand collapsing around your crying body. “At first, I had no idea how he could be so confident and silly,” a smile emerges on your face as he wipes another round of tears from your cheeks. 

“Do you remember any of his rants in the cafeteria?” you ask excitedly. Your inexperience with vulnerability attempting to make the conversation less one-sided. The smile on his face slowly grows as a low hum of a chuckle riffles in his throat. He slowly nods as his grip tightens at your waist. "I remember one distinctly about how the cafeteria stopped giving out corn on the cob," he answers.

In the midst of a laugh, you pull back to look at his face. “What else do you remember?” you ask, placing a hand to his chest. Tears now well in your eyes, as opposed to flowing down your cheeks. Kas takes a deep breath, following the press of his tongue against the back of his front teeth. 

The silence flattens your grin. You lean backwards to pull your thighs and legs from his knees. The tightness and excitement in his chest persists as Kas remembers how his words impact you. How your smile grows any time he shares a memory. How his heart flutters at the sound of your giggle. 

He winces, disgusted with the warm, cuddley shit that Eddie’s more accustomed to. And yet, here he is - desperate to put a smile on your incredible face. A part of him wonders if you were manipulating him. Show him a grin and he is a puddle between your thighs. He hates the hold you have over him. How your happiness makes his undead heart beat. 

Kas wonders if he will ever have autonomy, or if he will continue to be a slave for others as long as his mystical life will allow. His body craves for yours, pushing his mind to find a way back to caressing your soft skin. He sorts through the hazy fog and recollected memories. 

With a huff, he shares, “I remember the day you made Mac n Cheese.” He lightly taps his fingers against his thighs as he adjusts to sit cross legged. His eyes were down, but he could see you beaming off-center of his gaze. 

“We were with, um,” he hesitates as he looks up. His hands quickly move around, gesturing as he speaks. “Wayne,” the name pops out eagerly from your sweet lips. An encouraging nod to follow. “Wayne, yeah,” Kas agrees slowly, pretending as though he did not know exactly who his uncle, Wayne Edward Munson, was. 

“He liked you,” Kas says, lifting his brow as a smirk appears on his cheek. You laugh to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest. “You know, Eddie - I mean - he told me that but I still wasn’t sure,” you end with a chuckle. His eyes lift to yours - those button eyes comparable to your childhood teddy bear. They always left happiness ringing through your body. 

He shakes his head. “No, darlin’,” he starts. “There’s no world where you wouldn’t be on anyone’s good side.” With a slight chuckle, he adds, “Hell, I kept pushing you away and I couldn’t stay hating you.” You bite your lip, trying to hide the largest smile since you last kissed Eddie. “I am pretty loveable, aren’t I?” you ask sheepishly. With his tongue stuck to his canine, he lets out a deep sigh paired with a smile. “Yeah,” he says slyly and with a shrug. “I guess that’s true.”

Your eyes flow towards the sky, noting the bright stars twinkling above. The joy you feel is addicting. Something incomparable to the last few days. You dare not disturb it. And yet...

“There was something about your family,” Kas starts with a furrowed brow. A memory floods his brain, something he did not account for. “It was complicated. You had so many locks, to be safe - to feel safe.” Your smile dropped, but he had not noticed. His eyes pull straight, narrowing as he attempts to grab hold of this memory. 

“They hurt you,” Kas lets out as a sigh, as though the realization was just then. “Why didn’t he do anything about it?” he asks in an accusatory tone. His nostrils flare as his chest rises and his back straightens. He places his sights on you. Your hands push together, sliding between your thighs. Eyes resting upon them as the sadness sinks in your heart.

“Eddie, you just don’t understand,” you say as you harshly push the tear from your cheek. “No, baby, I understand completely. What do you think my dad did to me before Wayne ran him off?” Eddie whisper yells as he points up the stairs. “They can’t keep doing this to you!” The fire fueling in his stomach is the same firing his clenched fists. How dare they hurt you? How dare anyone lay a finger on you?

“Please, Eddie, please just stop,” you mumble in between cries. Your hand pulling at his arm, creating distance between him and the stairs. Eddie could see your eyes were fixated on your bedroom door. “No, y/n,” he says abruptly. His stance fixed and firm. His eyes unrecognizable.

Eddie pulls his arm from your grasp, causing you to take a step back. But quickly, he grabs hold of your forearm. His fingers squeezing against your skin as he tugs you closer to him. His other hand lightly lands next to the assorted bruises you had up and down your arm. Gently, he raises your arm to show the purple splotches thrown against your ribs that were hidden by your shirt. He expected the surprise on your face, as he knew you thought he only saw the marks on your arm. 

“Y/n, there is no way in hell that this is okay,” Eddie says through grinding teeth. Heavied breaths fall from his flared nostrils as he looks up at the stairway again. “Eddie,” you say weakly as tears run rampant down your face. “Please, you’re hurting me,” you share as you lightly push at his hardened grip. 

Eddie quickly turns around with horror on his face as his eyes are met with the dark pink imprints of his fingers upon your skin. He stumbles back with his hand placed against his chest. “I-I I’m sorry,” he starts as he backs into a support beam. A small cough exists between you two as he clears his throat. His eyes watering as his chin glues stuck against his chest. 

“Baby,” you crumble before him. Your hand leading your body as it lands softly against his cheek. His hand collapsing over yours. Your other rests against his sternum. “Eddie, baby, you didn’t mean it...” 

Kas snaps his eyes towards you. Abruptly, he pulls himself from the memory, having seen everything he needed to see. His brows push together as his upper lip slightly pulls. “He hit you?” he asks with shock thick in his intonation. A hand reaches out to your knee. 

“Excuse me?” you pull away disgusted. You cannot help but stand and look down at him. “I just,” you chuckle in disbelief, giving up further with each breath you take. Your hands gesturing with a shrug. “I wanted to be happy, remember the times when life was actually good, for once.” A scoff falls, and you shake your head. “It’s like you want me to be in pain - to suffer along with you.” Eyes looking off into the night sky, desperate to go back to that happiness. But it does not come. 

Kas pulls his hand away, landing it softly against his lap. A white hot flash spreading between his nostrils and eyes. He meant to make you happy, but he remembered something. He pursued it, like he figured you would want him to. But maybe not this memory. Are there bad memories between the lovebirds? 

Like a switch, his anger kicks in. An undeniable defense mechanism that he will continue to deny. “And what pain am I in, darlin’?” he scoffs. Your eyes flick up, searching for some sign of dismay in his. You find absolutely none. “God, just never mind,” you throw your head as you continue forward, brushing the thought off to hide yourself from more pain. 

“No, no, no, little lady,” Kas laughs as he grabs your forearm, pulling you backwards. “We’re still talking.” The whiplash of his grip twists your body into his. His other hand quickly falls at the base of your back as he pulls you onto him. “Let go of me, asshole,” you demand brutally as you push against him. He laughs as he lets you stumble back. An ache begins to ring in your wrist. 

“You want to talk, Kas, fine,” you yell at him, pushing your palms harshly against his bare chest. His stumble back is met with another condescending chuckle. “Eddie never hurt me.” You can feel your entire face tensing up. Every muscle, even those you didn’t even know you had.

“Don’t forget, I was there,” Kas mocks, pointing a finger to his temple. “You weren’t there,” you spit out. “Those are Eddie’s.” He laughs, leaning over and holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath and in a combustion of sarcasm and genuineness, he softly says, “Eddie’s not here anymore.” 

Now, it is your turn to scoff. “And you just love reminding me,” you say, shame-filled. He chuckles, his head swaying side to side as he settles into his suave stance. Confident, boisterous, annoying.

“You do understand though, right?” you ask with confidence. He adjusts immediately detecting that he now has a contender in front of him, as opposed to a weak girl. “Eddie never hurt me,” you say softly. “You, on the other hand, you’ve hurt me every second since I met you,” you end with a hiss. 

Kas’ lips fall into a line. His eyes raking over your facial features, processing those sinful words. You watch, pleased with his response. You soak in the pain displayed exclusively on his face without regret. “What was that again?” you exaggerate thinking with a finger bouncing off your chin. “What pain are you in, darlin’? This kind,” you end with disgust as you point him up and down. 

He continues to stare at you with widening eyes. His face blank now, as though all the blood drained from it. “Let’s just keep going,” you suggest. The moral compass in your head is wavering. You walk forward, noting his lack of movement.

“Do you remember anything else about that night?” Kas calls out blankly. You turn around to face him, expecting sarcasm but seeing absolutely nothing in those dark brown eyes. “I do,” you whisper.

“Will you tell me?” he asks with his head down as he takes a step towards you. A part of you hesitates, wondering if this is just another trick of his. But you wanted to reminisce on memories. Here is your chance. “Sure,” you say in a lackluster tone. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“It was just another regular day. Eddie came over after DND, like usual,” you shake your head as you attempt to remember. “My dad was a dick that day so Eds had to meet me at the back door.” Your eyes close as you continue, “I snuck him in and we went to my room and we were just talking about our days on my bed eating pizza.” You smile. “When we were laying down, I guess my shirt rolled up and he saw the bruises from earlier that day."

You laugh aloud, quickly pinning your mouth closed and hiding a smile. “He is the most stubborn person I know,” you share, forgetting who you were sharing with. “He wouldn’t let it go. He needed to know where the bruises were from and to see more.”

You stop immediately when you feel hot at your tear ducts. You quickly decide to keep a memory of love between you and Eddie. Another smile emerging as you acknowledge the realization that that was the moment you knew, without a doubt, Eddie Munson loved you. That he was the only person who loved you enough to care about your safety. 

“I fucking caved, as usual,” you giggle. “And when I showed him, he got pissed. I’ve never seen him more mad. I saw this fire in his eyes, I saw…” your brain stops working. Your brows crunch together as your eyes fall to the floor, processing the new information. 

After some time, you look up to Kas, who has been watching you continually. “I saw you in-in his eyes,” you say in awe. Kas’ flattened lips slowly flicker into a smirk.

You knew Kas? You saw him in Eddie, and you did not run. He existed before Eddie died. You know it to be true. He was there, and he was loved … by you. 

Quickly, you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought. You would not dare disrespect Eddie by comparing him in any way to Kas. “Uh, he wanted to beat up my dad for hurting me. I had to talk him down,” you say plainly. “He was feeling all those emotions so he-he just squeezed my arm,” you reenact the movement. “But when I told him to stop, it was like he realized he was hurting me and acted like he had control of it, like he should’ve known better.” 

Your eyes fall on Kas’ once again. “He did not hurt me on purpose. He would never hurt me on purpose. And that is what you should remember,” you say clearly.

But Kas will not remember that distinction. He has better things to think about. “Just as long as you remember that you saw me that night,” he says with a chuckle. “God, you’re so damn good at making everything about you,” you throw out with a hand to your hip. “Oh yeah? 'Cause I thought it was all about you later that night?” he asks with bouncing brows. Your eyes darkened. “You remember,” you reply flatly. 

“Yes, baby, I remember that night,” Kas smirks as he takes another step, like a lion stalking it's prey. “I remember when he laid you on the bed. How he traced his fingers up your leg,” he says softly as he attempts to do the same. You pull back in disgust, unsure of where this is coming from. He looks at you daringly.

“You liked it when he did it,” he huffs. “Well, what about when he kissed your neck.” He steps forward once more, hooking his arm around your waist and pressing your torso against his chest. Frankly, you were completely done with his manhandling. His lips fall upon your skin like unwanted tickles. Your elbow rests against his chest as you press your weight upon it. But this time, he did not pull away. He continues on.

“Oh, not that?” Kas asks amusingly, clearly not understanding the situation. His hands slowly trickle down your sides and to the front of your waist. “What about when he unbuttoned your pants-” “No, Kas!”  you yell, pushing with all your force. He stumbles backwards with arms held out wide. His face both concerned and surprised. "No," you repeat sternly.

“I thought we were…” he trails off, slowly understanding exactly what he was doing. “No, Kas, we weren’t,”  you say roughly. “Fuck, man! Why the hell would you even think that?” You push the hair from your face as you await his explanation. Kas’ held out hands slowly raise to a defensive position. “I-l I didn’t mean for any of that, we just, uh, we fight and then we,” he stutters. Wide, watering eyes. Stumbling his words as he continues to step back.

You could see him. Just like that night. Just like when he hurt you accidentally. His remorse. His horror of what he has done. You could see Eddie again. 

“Thank you for backing off,” you whisper. You look up to Kas as he sucks his tongue against his gums, pushing tears back into his eyes. He hides his face form you’d “I’m sorry,” he says with a deep voice after a quick clearing of his throat. “Thank you,” you mutter. “Let’s just keep walking, okay?” you suggest, pushing ahead. Kas solemnly follows behind you - at a distance. 

It was stupid to stop and talk. The sun is completely gone. That road Kas thought he saw? Yeah, that was a river. A river you both had to strategically hop stones to cross. A river you fell ass first in when you slipped on a mossy stone. His bustling laughter echoing in the emptied space, and yet you trek forward. 

An odd gesture but Kas offers you his black boots. The first six times you refused, but once your feet started bleeding you decided why the hell not. They were two sizes too big and clunky things. You don’t even think Eddie would wear these, not outside of his room. But Kas? He does not have a single care in the world. 

You figured that after Vecna, normal things like dark forests would not bother you in the slightest. You were wrong. You could hear him in any brush of leaves from the wind. You could feel him when you step on unexpected rocks, attempting to navigate through the tall grass. You could see him in the shadows by the tree trunks. You could smell him in the dry air. 

A snap. 

“What was that?” you whisper quickly. Your arms are held defensively in front of your chest as though you are ready for something to jump out. Kas looks back at you and immediately rolls his eyes. “I stepped on a branch,” he laughs. You cannot fully trust your eyes, but you swear you saw adoration in his smile as opposed to the usual condescending attitude. 

You shake off the jitters, feeling prickles trace down your limbs and up your neck. “It’s cool, I’m, uh,” you say as something catches your eye on the ground. You let out a soft sigh of relief as your eyes return to his. “Yeah, I am a-okay,” you say more convincingly. You could almost convince yourself. 

Kas bites his lip, studying you as you walk past him. “Are you afraid of the dark, little girl?” he whispers in your ear as ticklish fingers prance against the skin of your sides. “Kas, stop,” you stay sternly, swatting his hands away. “Seriously, though, what do you have to worry about with me here?” he scoffs amusingly. A smile growing on his face by the second as he catches up and walks beside you. 

“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe that flayed piece of jerky back there?” you say pointing behind you as you roll your eyes. “We’re outside of where he can reach, there’s no way he could get us,” he tries to soothe with a smile, but immediately recognizes the thin line growing between your brows. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kas whispers as he gently holds your wrist. He stops you in your tracks. You suck your tongue against your teeth as you avoid eye contact at all costs. “Hey,” he repeats in a deeper tone. His hands now cupped to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Vecna cannot get us here,” he says clearly. “No one will hurt you as long as I am around.” 

You cannot help but search for Eddie in those eyes. Just to see him one more time, but you know that will never be enough. Kas will never be enough. But his words help and you are able to take a deep breath. 

You nod, and he slowly drops his hands from your face. “Thank you,” you murmur. The word is now way too common in both of your vernaculars. Kas walks off with a smile, not turning back to look at you, not even once. 

Staring at the glow of the moon, you would guess it had to be at least 4 or 5am. Not that you would even really know what to do with that information gathered from this view. All you know is that you are getting tired, and the night sky is changing from pure darkness to a deep gray. 

“Ok, I know last time I was wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s an intersection,” Kas mumbles as he points forward. Your head snaps, following his gaze, with widening eyes. Your palm lands softly at your forehead as you quietly scoff in disbelief. Do your eyes deceive you? A honk of an 18-wheeler confirms your wish. You turn around with hands up in excitement. He chuckles at how big your eyes have gotten. A hand covering his growing smile. 

“That’s a car, Kas, that’s a fucking car!” you scream. You rush through the trees, trying your best not to slide atop of the wet leaves. Alas, you ram your torso against the trunk of a tree in excitement as you watch the scene unfold before you. The pain is unnoticeable.

The street lights illuminate like auras against the misty fog. The wafting smell of cigarettes fleeing the convenience store. The blinding shine of headlights wrapping around the corner every few seconds. Honking, dings, spitting, ringing, a musty old muffler - finally, people.

Not once would you have ever expected the joy of finding people again, and yet here you are. You just needed a fresh look at how shitty the alternative is to know that reality is at least 1% shittier. Hope fills your chest as you take a step forward, only for Kas to pull you back. 

“What?” you bark at him, pulling your arm away. “Take a good look at yourself, darlin’. You really want to walk up to that gas station like that?” Kas says with a point as he nonchalantly leans back on a tree behind him. You look down at yourself, remembering your lack of pants, Kas’ ratty shirt and his stocky boots. You take a deep breath as you softly say, “I guess you’re right.” 

He stands up, almost immediately, which draws your attention. A smirk growing on his face. “What did you say?” he asks with a leading tone. You roll your eyes recognizing his intention. “Must not have been important if you didn’t hear it the first time,” you murmur with a grin.

Kas slowly walks towards you, making your grin beam more and more with each step. “Oh, I heard it,” he says softly as he leans in closer to you. “I just wanted to hear it again,” he whispers and pulls back. You push against his chest with a laugh, leaving him with a chuckle and a raised chin as he peers down at you. 

“Okay, Kas, if we can’t go down there, where are we going to go?” you ask sarcastically. Kas smiles, moving his head to its side. “Oh, sweet girl. I know exactly where we’re going,” he murmurs. Your face deadpans as you watch him confidently strut down the hill and next to the street. “Wait, what do you mean?” you call after him. Rushing to follow him, you slip but Kas was able to hook his arm around you before you landed against the dirt and dust. He relinquishes his hand, faster than you expected and it leaves you confused. 

“You see that street? Hudson Ave?” he asks, pointing up at the street sign. You watch him with a perplexed expression, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. “Yeah?” you answer confusingly. “I know Hudson Ave,” he shares, looking back down at you. “We’re by Lover’s Lake.”

You take a deep breath of disappointment as you wipe your palms against your face. “I thought we were closer to the school than that,” you sigh. That would mean at least another 5 to 10 miles before being able to collapse into a bed. “Sounds like we need a place to stay for the night,” he says with excitement, as though he already knew the answer. “Yeah?” you ask again with squinting eyes. 

“I know a place. It’s safe, closed off, no one’s gonna be there,” Kas adds with a bit lip and slow nodding. Your face is emotionless as you watch his encouraging eyes. “How far is it?” you ask. 

“Kas, you didn’t tell me we were breaking into the place!” you ask with a worried, hushed tone. Your back stands behind Kas’, covering him as he hunches over to pick the front door’s lock. Your eyes scanning for any sign of life as the sun begins to rise over the patch of forest.

Arms are crossed against your chest, attempting to gather as much warmth as possible. “Yeah, I don’t tell you a lot of things,” Kas whispers to himself. A tongue stuck between his lips with pressed brows as he focuses on the clicks within the lock. “Almost there,” he leads.

One click and his smirk grows to an unbearable size. He turns to you with the utmost confidence. You pull your eyes away in an attempt to avoid looking at his sweetness. “Okay, we get it. You’re a badass,” you mumble, quickly moving into a whine. “Common, it’s cold out here!”

Kas chuckles to himself, almost a hum that vibrates within his chest. You could feel it too, in your own, that leaves a spark of something familiar. You push it away, deep within your stomach, refusing to acknowledge it. 

“Alright, alright,” Kas brushes off. “I’m hurrying.” With a twist and a push, you were in. The room was dusty. The air was stagnant. Your face showed everything, all your thoughts on the place. Completely disgusted by the state of the place. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

“It’s, uh, it’s cozy,” you whisper as you take a sharp breath. Half drunken beer bottles are left piled in the sink. A bra of unknown origin rests strung against the top of the couch. A rug, if you were so kind, rests tattered and torn throughout the room. A spindle of its fabric lays beneath your foot. 

The only pristine thing in the place is a glass cabinet filled with different variations of bongs. As much as you would like to deny it, the sparkles catch your eye. A brown glassed stem filled with peace signs - you imagine it to be at least 10 years old. Another looked like the yellow smiley face that has spread across the world in the past few years - you enjoy that one. One shaped like a dark blue toilet bowl - you are not too keen on that. Lastly, a pipe with a bowl painted like R2-D2 - that might have been your favorite. 

Before you knew it, you were standing right before the glass. Admiring the collection. Kas walks behind you. A cool whisper against your neck, “Can you guess where we are?” You shudder at his breath, but a piece of you welcomed his proximity.

“A dealer,” you say matter-of-factly, as you turn to face him. “Rick’s, right?” You knew he wanted to throw you off guard. He pulls back and slowly nods as respect fills the room. Of course, a respect that did not last very long.

“Then you must’ve known that this is where he stayed,” Kas mumbles carelessly. He carefully and judgingly picks up an opened bag of Fritos with his thumb and index finger off of the coffee table. Nuggets of weed organized perfectly upon the surface. Crushed green resting within a silver grinder. 

Eddie most definitely was here. You try your best not to let it show on your face, but you wondered if this is where he radioed you. Did he sleep on that disgusting ratty couch? Was that the last place he ever slept? You make your way into the kitchen, careful not to show your haste. Opened tin cans of corn stacked in a pyramid stare back at you. His last meal? A pot is barely balanced on the stove’s burner. 

Despite the rush of emotion in your chest, you smile at the thought of him cooking. Eddie was always a mess in the kitchen. You are honestly surprised that he did not leave the gas on. Memories of burnt pancakes and hardened spaghetti fill your taste buds. 

He may not have been the best chef, but he made up for it. There is nothing like watching him and that messy bun. Flour on his face as that familiar tongue sticks out while he’s focusing. An apron somehow already covered with syrup, even though there was yet to be any pancakes. His shirt cut off at the sleeves with strings of fabric comfortably against his biceps. 

Watching him in that moment, you saw your future. A future filled with laughter and messes. Dancing in the kitchen. Finally, feeling safe - safe in his arms. Maybe he would even make you feel safe enough to give him a little one when you were both older. The world deserved another Munson, another Eddie. 

But just like the rest of your dreams, this one will never come true. Another future ripped from your grasp. A happiness you had only a taste of and will never see again. And somehow, you are supposed to be okay with that - to keep moving on. Especially now that there’s some super villain dickwad that wants you dead. 

There’s no time to stop and grieve, like you thought. Part of you wishes you could, but another is thankful. Truthfully, you are afraid of what your life would look like if you truly let yourself feel everything. Feel your loss. It would not be much of a life, not after you get your revenge. 

Take one step at a time, you remind yourself. Vecna’s death is and should always be the highest priority. How do you kill him? How do you ensure that you are the final blow? What are his weaknesses? 

“Darlin’,” Kas whispers. He has been watching you silently as you stand in the kitchen. His intention was to catch you off guard with the information of Eddie’s stay. And he did just that but yet, no enjoyment in the act. What typically brings him happiness, his fucking with you, is not hitting the spot anymore.

He now worries about you. He worries about you constantly. He hasn’t stopped since that night in the diner. If he is honest with himself, these feelings would track all the way back to the night he first saw you. 

Kas lays a careful hand against your shoulder. Your head quickly turns to look at him. A shock coursing through your body. “Let’s get washed up,” he suggests softly. You nod, but a slow smile grows upon your face. His expression turns inquisitive as a chuckle leaves his throat. “Dibs on the shower,” you scream as you rush up the stairs. He watches you run and instinctually follows just as quickly behind you. 

You both playfully bump into each other as you struggle up the narrow staircase. As you manage to get a two step advantage, Kas grabs onto your ankle. You lightly fall against the wood as he scoots past you. “Fucker!” you giggle as you run to catch up to him. Bouncing off the walls, you push against his shoulder. You gain the advantage as you burst through a door.

Immediately, you are horrified by the sight. A tossed around bedroom with bright orange carpet. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the mirrored ceiling, which then led you to the cheetah print sheets. Your lips part as your jaw hangs open.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as Kas finally catches up. A laughter erupts beside you, but you cannot pull your gaze away. “Oh yeah,” he jokes in your ear. “Reefer Rick’s got bangin’ taste.” You push him away from you with a sneer. 

Beyond the disturbing clash in colors, you see a sliding door that leads to a balcony. The wood is of a greenish tint. Ivy covers its banisters. An old copper-rusted chair rests in the middle of the panels. A heavily used bong, tinted brown with tar, rests at its very edge. 

But despite all that, the view is incredible. There is no denying it. A gray and purple fog resides just above the black water. You could actually see the sun’s rays refracting within its dense mist. Sights like these have always made you feel better. There is nothing like Mother Nature to make that debby downer within you disappear. 

“Shower’s over here,” Kas says as he leans against the threshold bathroom’s threshold with crossed arms. You smile, turning around, and walking into the room. “Didn’t think you would actually respect a dibs,” you share. Thankfully, Reefer Rick seems to have better standards for cleanliness in the shower. You are pleased with its state. “Oh, I can’t mess with the dibs gods,” he scoffs incredulously. 

After noting which knob is for hot water, you realize that Kas is still standing beside you. You turn around to him beginning to unbuckle his belt. “What are you doing?” you ask with a nervous giggle. He pops his head up from his hands. His mouth in a thin line.

“Um, getting ready for our shower,” he answers. “Our shower, huh?” you giggle. “Oh, what? I thought you liked taking showers with your men?” he says as he leans in to you. His hands drop his buckle as his belt rests open at his waist. You struggle not to draw your eyes to it. 

You quickly recover and smile. “You remember a lot more than you’re letting on, Kas,” you say under your breath. “First of all, there are no men. Only Eddie, and you’re not him, right?” you ask with a leading tone. “So, I’m going to take this shower alone.” You point towards the shower curtain behind you with a smirk. 

Kas smiles with a shrug. “I guess I’ll wait my turn,” he says lightly. “Great call,” you whisper. Almost retaliatory, he unbuttons his black jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. Teeth digging into his bottom lip.

You try your best to keep your eyes on his, but you are clearly struggling and he knows it. He loves it. The smirk growing on his face by the second. A hint of blush to his cheeks. “I’ll just be out here, sweet girl,” he soothes. His own thumb pointing back into the bedroom as he slowly walks backwards. 

An undeniable, unstoppable grin beams across your face as you close the door. Fuck. The thin wooden barrier gives you enough space to consider the wild things rushing through your mind. How you wish you could just pull those jeans down, get on your knees, and make him forget that Vecna never existed. How you wish you could have dragged him into the shower with you. How he could make you forget that your pain even existed with those hands of his.

You need to cool down. Quickly. Dragging your palms down your face, you walk towards the shower. You turn the knob for cold water, leaving a slight bit of heat to settle in. You slowly raise your arms, attempting to take your shirt off, but the pain hit you like a truck. You wince at the feeling. Immediately, you hear Kas knocking. “You alright?” he asks. You laugh, “Yeah, Kas, I’m good.” 

It feels so damn good to take off that ratty shirt. To take off those panties. To take off his oversized combat boots. With a deep breath, you step into the shower. The rush of the freeze was shocking, yet comforting at the same time. The feel of the water splashing against your scalp and running down your temples, cheeks, and chin. 

You reach for the soap and are immediately presented with a conundrum. You debate whether or not you should rub it against your skin. You wouldn’t imagine your body being any less dirty than Rick’s bar of soap, and yet, you hesitate. With a shake of your head, you rub the soap against your hands and then lather the suds upon your body. 

Feeling the sensation against your skin, you cannot help letting in the trickling thoughts of Kas. The sensation of his hands on your body. His finger tips pressing against your aching muscles. Fixing all your pains. His palms exploring your waist, making their way up your torso and to your breasts. You think of Kas. You wanted Kas. 

As you step back, your calf bumps into a bottle that clunks onto the bottom of the shower floor. The abrupt loud noise echoes through the air. A burst of adrenaline fills your chest as you startlingly fling yourself against the tiled wall. The scuffle of your movement is heard from outside the bathroom. 

Deep breaths heave against your diaphragm as you slowly slide down to the base of the shower. Rushing cold water hits harshly against your skin. It causes your hair to glue thickly against your face. You can’t breathe. You can’t. You just can’t. 

Kas knocks once again. “Darlin’,” he calls out but you don’t answer. You can’t. You were stuck. Stuck against the ground. You could not move. If you moved, you had no idea what would happen. You were safe, barely safe in that shower. Don’t leave that spot. You can’t. You won’t. 

He slowly peeks open the door. “Y/n,” he calls out but you are silent. You hear him walk closer. You can see his shadow against the blue mildewed curtain out from your peripherals. He opens the shower curtain to see your arms wrapped around your knees. You were in a tight ball, as tight as you could manage, shuddering in the cold. 

“Shit, baby,” Kas hushes. He quickly turns the knobs, adding more warmth to the water pouring against the crown of your head. Without thinking, he hops inside the shower and crouches behind you. His arms tightening around your shoulders. “You are safe,” he whispers. “You are safe.” The words falling naturally, almost scripted.

With the added pressure, you can feel your heart rate slowing. You naturally place your hand against his forearm as he tightens his squeeze. You have not felt this in some time. Your eyes close as slow breaths enter and exit your lungs. The silence is comforting. A reminder that nothing is actually happening. Reality is currently safe. You are safe in Kas’ arms. Your body can calm, can take in the cues of relaxation in this warm shower. 

“I am safe,” you whisper as you lightly land your forehead against his forearm. “You are safe, darlin’,” he murmurs. His head laying against your shoulder. And there you both rest. You naked in his arms. Him drenched in his jeans behind you. A tightening embrace underneath a constant stream of warming water.

Dustin has never been the same since that night. He knows his friends are worried about him. That they freak every time he disappears for an hour or two. But they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t understand why he needed to visit him. How he would talk to him, even though he wasn’t there. 

He couldn’t even manage to radio Susie back anymore. It didn’t feel right to be happy with Eddie gone. He avoided it, avoided happiness like the plague. He avoided his friends, his family, his mother. He grieves in solitude, unsure of when he will ever be done. 

Every day since, Dustin made the trek to Lover’s Lake. To that spot in the woods where Steve, Nance, Robin, and Eddie went to Watergate. It is the closest he can get to Eddie. To remembering him. To wishing he was still there.

After a few trips back and forth, Dustin could make his way there without the compass - not that the compass was that helpful anyway. He would bring his backpack filled with old DND books, some of which were filled with “Munson’s Property” in thick sharpie. Sometimes he would run his fingers over them, hoping that Eddie was there too.

He would talk about the campaigns he wished he could play with Eddie. The one’s he knew the party would have a great time with. He would reminisce about when Eddie said he was “grooming him - grooming him to become Hellfire’s president. To be the Dungeon master. To be him. 

That is all he could ever want. Well, that and Eddie being alive. 

Another day and Dustin still sits upon his stump beside the lake’s shore. Seventeen rocks still scattered across the dirtied sand. He counts them here and there, ensuring they remain the same number. That everything remains untouched, like that day. But the fog was thicker today.

He could see the purple flecks within the gray mist. He appreciated when it was foggy. It meant he didnt have to think about the gang getting attacked in the middle of the lake. It meant he didn’t have to remember watching his friends and being helpless as they all dove into the dangerous waters. How he watched two of his heroes go in the abyss and never come out. 

Sometimes Dustin wonders if he will see the canoe floating out on the water abandoned one day. Or maybe he’ll find it on the shore somewhere. Maybe there’s something on it? A piece of Eddie, something he left behind. He wanted to venture out but felt glued to this stump. Glued to looking out into the water and hoping Eddie might just come out from the fog. 

Or maybe something will come out and take him. Take him far away from all this pain. Dustin was at his lowest, and yet he could only imagine going lower. Permanent reds to his eyes as tears continue to fall. It is his new norm. A new world without his big brother, without the person he looked up to the most. 

Dustin heard a branch snap behind him. He turns, hoping it’s not Mike or Lucas trying to drag him back to the Wheeler’s, to his mom. He is surprised by the emptiness of the woods. How it reflects how he feels inside. He assumes the noise to be due to an animal. A sigh and he’s turned back around to the lake. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of something odd. His head turns to the structure to his left - Reefer Rick’s. “What a shithole,” he mumbles to himself. He places his elbows to his knees as his palms carry the weight of his chin. A light turns on, clear and bright within the fog. Enough to pull his attention back to the building.

Dustin stands with furrowed brows and a need to investigate. Cops were his first thought. Maybe they were still looking for Eddie, or maybe Rick broke out of the jail? Rick did have a tendency to do that. Although, they would always catch him seeing as he would just go home to smoke more dope.

He walks up closer, trying to get a better look, and catches a glimpse of something on the balcony. Another side step and he tries to look past the tops of the trees. There were no beams of flashlights bouncing around the windows. Maybe it wasn’t a raid. Maybe it was more of Jason’s lackeys? Still looking for Eddie, and yet - they’ll never find him. Or maybe they’re looking for Jason? They won’t find him either. 

But who Dustin saw walking out the balcony made his blood instantly run cold. He was frozen, stuck in place, with a jaw dropped and shaking hands. The person is pale with black, wet, stringy hair resting at his shoulders. A familiar stance and posture that Dustin knew all too well.

Large, healed wounds wrapping from his lower back, across his side ribs, and a bit of his front. A familiar spider tattooed across his chest. The figure had a white towel wrapped around his waist. He is looking out - looking out into the lake. Just as Dustin was. 

His heart starts pounding. In an unrecognizable world he now finds himself in, he finally sees the one he has missed so dearly. “Eddie,” falls from his lips like a whisper. As though it was a secret that was never meant to be spoken. A secret that only Dustin knows. The hope that he might be back, that maybe he never left. 

Before his mind could register, Dustin’s feet were already running around the battered house, faster than he thought possible. His bag and compass left hastily by the shore. He stumbles trying to find his footing against the worn wooden steps as his fist crashes against the front door. All the excitement pumping through his body as he hears steps grow louder behind the door. 

It opens. And Dustin feels everything. 

note: hi, katrina here. i didn’t feel like it would work in the story (timeline wise), but i wanted to share that i most def wanted eddie to go up there and beat her dad’s ass. let me know what you think, please? ♥️

next part • posting 07/15 at 5pm pst •

taglist: (sorry for the retag, tryin' something) @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @sunnytkm23, @ambthegamer, @bit-of-a-timelord

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[quirkwizard]

I say this in some fanart, but do you think Izuku would be friends with aang and miles morales? Whether this is a situation where either one gets transported to their world or something

I can't say I've ever done anything like this, but I'm all for it. I don't mind talking about out of universe stuff like this as long as it is interesting, like the time I talked about All Might wielding Mjolnir. Though I'll focus on Miles for this, as I think the two have a lot more in common and there is more to talk about them. This will be the Spiderverse version of Miles since that is the one everyone is the most familiar with.

As people, I think that the two would get along fairly well. Of course, the two have a lot of shared characteristics. Both are good-natured, intelligent kids who have plenty of doubt about themselves, both as people and as heroes. I think that they would find each other as kindred spirits. Sure, Miles may be more laid-back and Izuku may be more high-strung, but they'd have enough in common that I could reasonably see them as friends. Heck, the two of them may just be the equal positive influence both of them need. I could see them bonding over their shared sketches and notes they take on the people around them. They'd try and share some of their interests as well, like Miles trying to get Izuku into R&B or hip-hop music while Izuku tries to get Miles into everything about the heroes of MHA. And could you imagine the two geeking out over collectable merchandise and how to properly maintain it?

As heroes, I think the two would be able to help each other out as well. They both cover each other's shortcomings in the two fields of hero work. Miles, I think, has a lot more of the social part of it down. He's good at getting people to like him and playing up his heroic persona. These are parts of hero work that Izuku has always struggled with. I could easily see Miles trying to get Izuku to loosen up some when the two are out on patrol. If nothing else, he could really help Izuku in terms of costume design and what products to avoid endorsing. Izuku would have a better grasp on the technical side of things. Between the two of them, Izuku has more practical experience and training as a hero. He'd be able to give advice on how to properly handle villains and crime scenes. Of course, there are many ways Izuku could try to help him evolve his powers. Seriously, give Izuku a couple of days with him, and Miles is going to be pulling off the kind of stuff we saw in the Insomniac games.

[simp-thingz]

Hey! Can we get his for dabi, shigaraki, Toga and lady nagant with a s/o who was a hero but one night (maybe after what happened in the war) unexpectedly meets up with them to tell them they were right and they are now joining them. Thanks I really enjoy ur writing

(I got so carried away with Dabi’s it’s not even funny, sorry if the others seem rushed )

-Dabi 

 Y'all have been together for a few years by the time the war happened and had found a workable balance between your guys’ clashing professions. But Dabi was no stranger to what heroes could be like behind their heroic masks’ thanks to his childhood and it had been a point of argument because despite him being the cause of plenty of chaos himself, he was worried whenever you went out into the field, even more so when you were pinned up against the LOV despite his friends liking you enough to hang around off the field y'all still had parts to play. But after the war, you had both come home in pieces, not really physically but definitely emotionally, and mentally. You had watched as he revealed his identity from under a literal wall and hadn’t been retrieved by EMT’s nor by any of your hero colleagues, leaving you to think about a lot of things until Dabi had snuck back to you and got you out from under the debris himself, fresh staples in place. He was pissed that you had just been left there by your ‘friends’ after you had fought just as hard and saved just as many, if not more people before being caught by the debris. You were strangely quiet as the two of you got ready for bed and he was growing increasingly more worried “Hey Touya'' you sighed from the bathroom counter getting his attention as he cleaned up your wounds “Do you think Shigaraki would let me join you guys?” you asked shyly as he froze unsure of what to say, “I don’t know, probably why?” You simply shrugged not meeting his eyes “I’ve been thinking about it for awhile….” you muttered searching for something else to focus on other than the pain and nerves in your body but he simply shrugged pulling you into his chest from behind and burying his face in your neck as you redressed a few smaller scratches on your face “I’m sure I can work something out for you babe.” He was secretly pretty happy about it because it meant he would get to see you more often and you guys’ would finally be on the same side of the field where he could protect you a lot better.

-Toga

She was not shocked, she had seen it with her own eyes through your window as you contemplated the decision in the mirror before you left to come see her. It was something she had asked you to do for ages since it would allow you guys’ to spend more time with each other, not to mention it got you away from the toxic work environment that surrounded a majority of the hero industry. It was basically a done deal the minute you agreed to join [her] them, she was so excited and was already thinking of all the trouble the two of you could get up too.

-Shigaraki

At this point he just couldn’t understand why it took so long for you to join the LOV, it was so much better than those arrogant heroes that were so hooked on fame and power. It came up one night while the two of you were playing Animal Crossing hanging out on your island, his head resting in your lap “Can I stay here?” You asked out of nowhere as he quirked a brow at you from below “Yeah? I thought you already were???” Man would be honestly confused like you thought you were leaving? Nope. It’s not safe and you already announced that you were joining the league so it made no sense to go back to a place that was on file for any ol’ person to find if they wanted you gone.

-Lady Nagant

Another who was not surprised. She knew first hand how corrupt hero society was; it was why she left in the first place. Despite not killing Kai or Izuku it didn’t mean she would go back to being a hero because she physically and legally couldn’t without a significant amount of shit changing so why would she expect you to continue down your path of heroism? She wasn’t gonna pressure you into becoming a villain but one night, it simply just happened. She was waiting in a dark alley between your place and a local deli as you shuffled through the dark, a backpack strapped to your back and tear stains on your cheeks. “What happened Y/N? Have you been crying?” she wasn’t sure what to do, she seriously lacked in the comforting department due to her lack of social skills, but they didn’t seem to be needed as you threw yourself into her arms nearly sending both of you to the ground “You wanna talk about it?” she questioned awkwardly cradling you as breathed in her comforting scent and shook your head. The two of you left promptly after that not wanting to be caught, and she never did find out that the reason you were crying was simply because of a really sad song you listened to while waiting for her.

[discordantwords]

after the storm

In honor of Sherlock's birthday, here's a little glimpse at what happened with our beloved storm chasers after the credits rolled on Whirlwind.

_____

John wakes to the muffled drone of the television. He throws an automatic hand out, finds an expanse of empty bed, long gone cool. 

He sits up. 

Morning sun slants through the windows, casting the cluttered room in golden light. 

The bed is comfortable, and familiar. The warm embrace of home after far too much time spent away. 

He stands, muscles aching, and shuffles his way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room. Bartholomew is stretched on the couch. He gives a thump of his tail as John enters, but otherwise does not stir. Sherlock is standing by the window, mug of tea steaming in his hands. 

The morning news is on the television. 

John glances at it, looks away. It is his network. The anchors, Janine and David, toss pre-scripted banter back and forth with wide smiles. He knows them well. Any moment now, the morning weather report will come on, and he will not be the one delivering it. 

The relief is staggering. 

"Regrets?" Sherlock asks. 

He smiles, lifts his head to meet Sherlock's steady gaze. "None." 

Sherlock nods slowly, takes a sip of his tea. There is a bandage at his temple, bruises and shallow scratches criss-crossing his skin. John had mapped those marks with his fingertips the night before, marveling at the miracle of Sherlock's heartbeat, the blood pumping in his veins, the soft breaths he continues to draw.

It is twice, now, that the wind has attempted to tear him from the earth. Love has kept him tethered.

"—our very own John Watson—" 

John startles, looks back at the television. His own face is on the screen. He knows the photograph. It is the professional headshot he'd had taken when he first joined the news team. His tie is fixed slightly too tight. His smile is fixed a little too wide.

Sherlock steps up next to him, shoulders just brushing. 

"—and his heroic efforts to warn James Moriarty and the Stormfans crew, all caught on tape seconds before tragedy struck yesterday," Janine's voice is somber as the image cuts away from John's smiling face to grainy, jittery feed from inside Moriarty's SUV. "I must warn you that the footage you're about to see is quite graphic—" 

"Jesus," John says, and looks away. He hears his own voice piped in over the radio, his desperate pleas that went unheeded. Moriarty's mocking dismissal. Sebastian Moran, protesting just a little too late. The terrible screams before the abrupt severance of the feed. 

Sherlock stays at his side, unmoving, unspeaking. 

"As the full scope of yesterday's destruction comes into focus," David says on screen, "we can confirm twenty-three fatalities in Grant County, with further damage in—" 

John shakes his head. His face is hot. He reaches blindly for the remote, switches off the television. 

"That photograph," Sherlock says. 

John lifts his hand, rubs at the back of his neck. "What?" 

"The photograph that Mary chose to air. You weren't happy when it was taken." 

"What?" John says again. He stares hard at the now-dark television screen. Shakes his head to banish the memory of Moriarty's screams. "No. Um. It was taken my first day on set. They used it for— I don't even know. The website. Press releases. My ID badge. That sort of thing." 

"You weren't happy." 

"No," John says. "I wasn't." 

He hadn't been happy. He'd been resigned, and determined, but not happy. 

"They gave you a gracious sendoff at the start of the hour," Sherlock says. "You were still asleep." 

"They—" John shakes his head again, feeling hopelessly behind. "Really?" 

"Said that your weather reports would be deeply missed, but that in light of yesterday's events you'd elected to return to the field in an effort to prevent such tragedies from occurring in the future. There was even a little montage of your most memorable moments in the studio." 

"Oh," John says, surprised. "Mary would have had to approve that. That was—nice. Of her." 

"No," Sherlock says, but there is a glint of mirth in his eyes. "Not nice. Smart. You were a member of her staff. Well-liked by viewers. Abrupt departures often evoke scandal. Positioning you as a noble hero sacrificing his comfortable career for the greater good paints the network in a better light."  

"Ah," John says, smiling in spite of himself. He looks down at the ground. "That makes a lot more sense."

"She may have been being nice as well," Sherlock says, after a moment. He sounds slightly unsure.

"Maybe," John concedes.

They stand regarding each other for a moment. 

"I spoke with Mrs Hudson," Sherlock says, finally.

"She's all right?" 

"She will be. Mycroft has offered her a place to stay until her house can be rebuilt. From what she tells me, he campaigned vigorously for the move to be permanent, but she has no intentions of leaving." 

"Glad to hear it," John says. "Hard to imagine Wakita without her." 

Sherlock hums in agreement. "Oklahoma would fall." 

Bartholomew stands up, stretches. He hops down off the couch, nudges at John's fingers with a cold nose. 

"Unfortunately, Mycroft seems to have developed an allergy, so we'll need to keep Bart until construction is done." Sherlock heaves a heavy sigh that does not fool John in the slightest. 

"I think we can manage that," John says, scratching behind a silken red ear. There is a warmth in his chest, spreading, threatening to spill out of him. 

"We should go," Sherlock says. "Lots to do. You're moving back in. You need clothes. And we need a new truck." 

"My truck was new," John grumbles without much heat.

"We're due at the lab by noon," Sherlock adds. 

"Lots of data to go through," John agrees. There is a little thrum of excitement at the thought. 

"It'll be good to have you back. I—" Sherlock says, and trails off.

John looks up. Sherlock's expression is soft, considering. There is a little furrow between his brows. 

"—missed you," Sherlock says. 

John lifts his hand, traces gentle fingertips over Sherlock's bruised face. Sherlock's breath hitches, ever so slightly. His eyes flutter shut. 

"Noon, yeah?" John says, puts just a hint of suggestion in his voice. 

Sherlock smiles, a slow, languid thing. He does not open his eyes. "Yes. Well. I suppose we can be flexible on the timing." 

"Just the timing?" John presses, leaning in close, inhaling Sherlock's warm, familiar scent. 

"And—other things—" Sherlock amends, capturing John's mouth in a kiss.

"Hey, Sherlock?" John says, pulling back ever so slightly. 

"Hm?" Sherlock huffs a shaky breath against John's lips. 

John rolls his forehead against Sherlock's, takes a steadying breath. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he needs to say. But he will start here, with a memory and a promise: "I'm going to love you forever."

Sherlock opens his eyes. His grin is sunshine parting through the clouds.