#so I figured I’d at least talk about their quirks

[mimikip4744]

Sigh I love my purple haired poison users

They don’t show up until way later in the story, but I felt like drawing them so I’ll talk a little about their quirks

Fun fact: He and Kokoro mitsume (from SDRA2) are the only ones to wear lab coats with their hero outfits. Also Charles’ goggles has a filter that changes the color of blood so that he doesn’t freak out whenever he sees it. Everyone found this out the hard way when he first saw Veronika’s quirk in action (her quirk is blood manipulation).

Idk if her hero outfit will stay the same, but I like it for now. Her hair is hard to draw though.

Also @trashrat420 here ya go!

You asked me to tag you the next time I posted something like this.

[steddieasitgoes]

not so dirty little secret

written for @steddie-week Day 1 prompt: Mystery/Secret Relationship Rating: T | wc: 2128 | no cw Read on ao3

Steve’s lounging on the Munson’s couch, right-hand wrist deep in a bowl of popcorn, when Eddie stalks into the room. He’s got two beers in hand and is mumbling about something, words muffled by the rim of the beer bottle as he takes aggressive sips. It’s not unusual to hear but not understand what his rumblings are — Steve’s become accustomed to his quiet but loud brainstorming sessions. What is unusual, however, is the pinch of his brows and the slight downturn of his lips as he does so. Curious, Steve perks up and leans forward.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Eddie gasps, scandalized. “My thoughts are worth at least a dime, Stevie!” 

Taking a more calculated, calming swig of his beer, he drapes himself on the couch beside Steve and sighs. “I think Wayne is knocking boots with someone.” 

The words leave Eddie’s mouth with a nonchalance, as if he’s giving Steve an update about the weather.  It’s something he does often with no explanation, at least not one Steve’s discovered yet, and it’s quickly becoming another quirk in a long list of ones he’s coming to love about Eddie.  

This though… this is a whole other monster. 

Steve's eyes widen and blink in confusion. His lips fall into a soft, confused pout as he tilts his head to the side — the tell-tale sign that he has no idea what Eddie is talking about. It’s a sign Eddie picks up on immediately, with — the both of them well-versed in their non-verbal body language as of now, so he clarifies. 

“You know, knocking boots? Doing the dirty? Bumping uglies? Hanky Pa—“ 

Well, over-clarifies. 

“I get it!” Steve shouts, face reddening.

It’s weird, feeling the heat spread across his cheeks and down his neck. He’s never been embarrassed by sex before. Kind of hard to be when his entire high school reputation revolved around who he was (or wasn’t) jumping into bed with. Never mind the fact that he actually only ever did it twice. He couldn’t go a week without it being brought up at least once, and each time, Steve had glided through the conversation with flying colors, hardly embarrassed. 

Back then was different, though. It was all talk at the end of the day. Mostly make-believe talk. This, though? Listening to Eddie talk about his uncle’s very real sex life? He’d be concerned if he didn’t find it mortally embarrassing. 

Clearing his throat, Steve shifts in his seat. 

“Does it matter if he is? Ya’ know, bumping boots or whatever?” 

Eddie cackles, throwing his entire body into it until the bowl of popcorn topples over onto the couch between them. So much for movie night Steve thinks as he tries to save as many of the kernels as he can before they fall into the couch cushion abyss. Not like he had been looking forward to eating or anything. 

“Does it matter if he is?” Eddie huffs, half-mocking Steve as he shakes his head. “Of course, it matters! It’s my uncle! What if we like, walked in on him or something because we don’t know what’s going on? That would scare me for life, Stevie. I’d need therapy!” 

“You’re already in therapy.” 

“Well, I’d need another therapist. One who specializes in the traumatic experience of walking in on your parental figure getting his di—“ 

“Let’s just rewind for a minute.” Steve shuts his eyes, willing his brain not to conjure up the image Eddie’s so keen on painting for him. His therapy bills are expensive enough, he doesn’t need to add another session just to talk about whatever the hell this conversation is. “If Wayne is in a relationship, which you don’t even know if he is, why would he keep it a secret?” 

“I don’t know. You’ve met him! He’s weird and secretive like that. I didn’t even  know his middle name until I was fourteen and swiped his license so I could buy cigarettes.” 

Steve remembers that story. It was one of the first of many never-ending cascades of embarrassing childhood stories Wayne shared with him that always turned Eddie scarlet. Eddie always gets upset when Wayne tells them, never failing to pout over not having someone on Steve’s side to badger for his own stories. Steve, happy to keep his past in the past, has grown used to shrugging him off and urging Wayne to tell him more.

“Not telling you his middle name is a lot different than hiding an entire person,” Steve continues to reason as he relocates the popcorn bowl to the table in front of them. “Why do you think he’s hiding someone anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Eddie says, turning on the couch to better face Steve. He folds one leg under himself, the other hanging off the edge, foot planted and bouncing in an erratic rhythm Steve’s willing to bet is a new beat for a song. Eddie takes one more swig of his beer and then clears his throat as he claps his hands together. “Evidence número

 uno, he’s been smiling more lately.” 

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re back home and on the mend.” 

“Hey! Don’t interrupt me to remind me that my uncle loves me. It ruins my street cred.” 

Steve shoots his hands up in defense, shaking his head at his boyfriend's antics. 

“Evidence numéro deux—“

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin,” Steve mumbles, taking a swig from his own beer this time. All this language-switching is giving him a headache. 

“Evidence numéro deux!” Eddie repeats, louder this time as he holds up two fingers. He’s kneeling now, knees sinking into the well-loved fabric of the couch. “He’s been using a new mug.” 

“Someone call the police! Wayne’s using a new mug.” 

If looks could kill, Eddie would be a modern day Medusa and Steve would be stoned to the couch.

“Evidence number three — and this is the most damning of evidence — Wayne has had plans every Monday night for the last two months.” He jumps to his feet now and begins pacing around the living room. 

Wait, Monday nights? But that’s — 

Oh. 

Eddie is so off base. So, so, so far off base, he might as well be lost in space. Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The last thing he wants to do is upset him more than he already has with his interjections. 

But this is hilarious. Downright hysterical. 

And honestly, the truth might be a harder pill for Eddie to swallow than this mystery lover he’s dreamed up. Because that is way easier to explain than the truth, that Wayne has been spending every Monday night for two months with Steve… watching football. 

“Two months, Stevie!” Eddie shouts, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “He comes home from work, changes, and then he leaves and doesn’t come back home for hours! I mean, maybe I’m being a bit generous since he is gone for hours. I can’t imagine he’d have that kind of stamina, but maybe he—” 

The front door opens, interrupting whatever cursed thought was about to spill from Eddie’s lip to reveal the older man in question. Steve’s never been so grateful to see Wayne — even if he’s the reason this entire conversation is happening right now. 

“Eds. Steve.” Wayne nods at each of them before crossing into the kitchen to fetch his own beer. He returns a moment later, collapsing into his recliner with the same dramatics as Eddie. “What are ya boys talkin’ ‘bout?” 

It’s kind of hard to be a religious man when he’s witnessed hell on Earth and had to claw his way out of it, no sign of divine intervention in sight. And yet, Steve can’t help but shut his eyes and say a silent prayer to whoever may be listening that his boyfriend keeps his mouth shut for once in his life. 

The power of prayer isn’t on Steve’s side though apparently, as he watches Eddie’s eyes get that twinkle in them right then and there, a mischievous glint that he has a love-hate relationship with. Sure, it’s cute as hell, but god dammit, every time it happens, Steve ends up having to bail him out of trouble. He really doesn’t want to have to do that right now, not for this. 

“Funny you should ask, Wayne—“

The intro to the seven o’clock news cuts him off. Maybe Steve’s prayers have been answered. Maybe this is what people talk about when they say that God works in mysterious ways. Maybe— 

“We’re coming to you live from The Hoosier Dome to bring you breaking news about our Indianapolis Colts.” 

“Bet it’s got to do with that coach they got runnin’ the place. Still can’t believe he ran that damn childish play on Monday.” 

“Tell me about it,” Steve says, shaking his head. “You know how I feel about the Colts, but you should’ve won that game.” 

“Least we get a rematch later in the season,” Wayne says, sipping his beer. “We gotta go to Diana’s for that game. If we lose, I can drown my sorrows in a real whisky instead of that cheap shit Glen keeps selling us.” 

“Us?” Eddie balks.

Steve watches in real time as Eddie puts the pieces together. His eyes widen then narrow into judgemental slits. His lips purse, head swiveling between the two of them and the television like he does when he’s DMing an intense session for the kids. Eddie’s sharp, always has been, and he wears his emotions on his face, so it’s easy to know when everything clicks in that chaotic mind of his. He might as well have buzzers going off behind him. 

“You!” He shouts, pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s direction. “You’re the one keeping my uncle out late! Making him happy!” 

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout?” Wayne asks.

Steve bits his lip. “Eddie, uh, thought you had a secret lover that’s been keeping you out on Monday nights.” 

“A secret lover?” Wayne laughs. “On a Monday night? Boy if I was gettin’ handsy with someone it wouldn’t be on no Monday night. I’m a Friday night gentleman, you know that. Maybe even Saturday mornin’ if I’m lucky.” 

“I don’t know anything anymore!” Eddie shouts, really doubling down on his theatrics. There’s a moment of calm before his brain conjures up something sinister — at least, Steve thinks it must be really bad judging by the paleness in Eddie’s face and the anger in his eyes. Finally, he explodes. “You’re cheating on me with my Uncle!” 

“I am not!” 

“Maybe not physically — Jesus H. Christ, ew, please please tell me it’s not physical. I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“Now hold your horses a minute, Eds.” Wayne stops Eddie in his tracks with an easy hand around his wrist. “Steve here ain’t do nothin’ wrong but offer me his company during the games. I’d watch them with you. Hell, we both would. But, we know you hate ‘em.” 

“So it’s my fault then?” 

“I ain’t say that.” 

“You implied it, old man!” Eddie says, jabbing his finger in Wayne’s direction now. “You better keep your blue-collar hands away from my debutant boyfriend.” 

“You two are both ridiculous,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. He turns to Eddie, giving his best attempt as his puppy dog apology eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret. You’re just never home on Mondays anyway, so we never thought to mention it. But if it bothers you so much, come with us this week. You’ll see for yourself no one’s stealing my honor, or whatever and it’s going to be a good game.” 

“Not for the Colts,” Wayne grumbles. 

Eddie makes a big show of considering the offer before shuttering. “And spend the night at Glen’s sports bar? I think I’d rather you cheat on me with my uncle—“ 

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Steve runs a frustrated hand down his face. “It’s grossing me out. No offense, Wayne.” 

“I’d be offended if you weren’t grossed out, son.” 

“Hey! I was talking,” Eddie squawks. Steve gives him his undivided attention, Wayne’s not so graceful, offering him a grunt and a hand gesture telling him to stop blocking the television. “As I was saying, you two can have your little sports bromance thing, butI do expect you to buy me a new mug for all my troubles, Stevie. S’not fair you got one for Wayne and not me.” 

“I’ll take you to the store tomorrow, and you can pick it up yourself.” 

“Thank you.” After a moment, Eddie sinks back into his side of the couch cushion and reaches for the half-full bowl of popcorn on the table. “Now, let’s start this movie night.” 

[hajiberry]

3:56 am - Katsuki bakugou

domestic fluff + pregnancy

Bakugou would give anything right now to switch quirks with someone and be able to teleport home. He feared he might explode if he spent one more moment in this car.The thirty five minute drive from the airport was starting to feel like an eternity and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it. He knew he was in for a headache when his connecting flight got delayed, getting him home hours after he had planned on arriving. Glancing out kirishimas passenger window he started counting down the seconds till he could see you. He hated when missions took him away from home but this one was extremely difficult, considering you could go into labor any day now. He had felt like a maniac the whole trip, constantly calling to make sure you weren’t at the hospital moments away from giving birth.

Opening his eyes he was about to ask how much fucking longer when the car pulled into the neighborhood and two seconds later Kirishima was pulling into y’all’s driveway. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been happier to see the home the two of you shared. “Fuck it’s good to be home”, he mumbled, stretching out his limbs before sitting up. “Thanks for picking me up”, leaning back he grabbed his luggage, hauling it over before opening the door.

“Yeah of course man tell y/n I said hi”

“Will do”, closing the passenger door he gave him a wave before heading up the driveway. Selfishly he was hoping you were still awake, so he could at least sneak in a kiss and an ‘I missed you’, before drifting off to sleep. But he also knew you’ve been struggling with sleeping lately so he was hoping you at least were getting some rest.

Opening the front door he smiled at all the packages littered in the foyer, boxes that he assumed were filled with baby stuff. He kicked his shoes off before making his way up the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the door he smiled when he saw your sleeping figure curled up in the bed. Setting his bag down he made his way over to you, kneeling down in front of you to press a kiss to your forehead before moving his attention to your belly. “I missed our little chats buddy”, he still was baffled at how much he missed talking to his unborn child. “I’m back though, I had to go out of town for work but that’s the last trip for a while so I definitely won’t miss you being born”

“Thank god”, you mumbled, slightly startling him.

“Fuck I didn’t know you were awake”

“I’ve been in and out of sleep for the past hour”, sitting up slightly you gave him a tired smile. “How was your flight?”

“Awful”, leaning forward he pressed his lips against yours, “just glad to be home”

“Glad to have you home”, wrapping your arms around his neck you littered a few kisses on his cheek. “It always sucks when you’re gone but this time just really fucking sucked”

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled as he started kissing you again, “not leaving on a mission like that again anytime soon”

“Good or I’d have to make a phone call”, you said with barely any bite in your words.

Chuckling, he stood up, pulling off his clothes to get ready to hop in the shower, “how terrifying”

“I know right”, standing up, you followed him into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet while he got in the shower.

“Go to sleep I’ll be in bed in a minute”, he said over his shoulder as he stepped under the hot water.

“I wanna hear about your trip”, the sleep that laced your voice caused him to smile.

“Well you’ll get a kick out of this but apparently icy hots dating someone”

Gasping, you pulled the shower curtain back a little bit, mouth wide open. “No way”

“Yup, deku was filling me in on the plane ride there”, he wasn’t sure when he started pocketing away stuff that was going on in his friends lives so that he could fill you in on the gossip but he wasn’t mad about it.

“So he’s keeping it quiet I’m assuming”

“Mhm only the nerd knows”

“Cause he snooped?”

“Yup”

“Well now I have to invite shouto over for dinner”

“What? Like he’s gonna tell you?”

“Everyone eventually caves and tells me”, he couldn’t even argue with that statement.

“But the trip itself was fine just standard shit”, turning the water off he stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

“Well I missed you”, smiling down at you he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I know I missed you too”, resting his hand on your belly he gave you a tired but genuine smile. “Let’s get you in bed though”

“Me? You’re the one that’s been traveling all day”, you said, standing up to follow him into your bedroom.

“But you’re growing a baby which I assume is a little more exhausting”

“Can’t argue with that but let’s just say we’re both tired”, you said with a yawn before laying down on your side of the bed.

After quickly throwing his boxers on he climbed into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. “Wanna grab breakfast in the morning?”, he asked softly, a volume of his voice only you got to hear.

“Of course I do”, smiling you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m so glad he waited till you got home”

“Me fucking too”

Letting out a sigh of contentment you closed your eyes, finally being able to let yourself sleep.

[disaster-writer]

A Sheep In Wolf’s Clothing

Shigaraki x Reader x Dabi

Summary: idk what this is, I just wanted write some more vile shit with these characters. This is also a college au

Word Count: 732

Warnings: Kinda smuttish I guess, they talk about it at least. Mentions of drugging and noncon stuff

Minors DNI

You were pathetic, trying to fit in with those girls the way you did.

The only thing you ever offered that group of mean girls were your nods and chirps of agreement, even when they treated you as their punching bag the only thing you could do was choke out a laugh. 

He bet you cried yourself to sleep.

The ice cream shop you sat in with your girl’s after class was cute, a nice little facade for the beasts you hung around as you all ate your ice cream cones covered in rainbow sprinkles within the bright neon and baby pink shop.

He hadn’t meant to follow you here after class but today you looked particularly down. Like a little kicked puppy, the image in his head was sold even more at the little licks you gave your vanilla ice cream in hand with those sad, pathetic eyes of yours.

He sucked in a breath, the image of your cute little pink tongue darting out to kitten lick the pre-cum off the fat tip of his cockhead all too vivid.

He shifted in his seat, cock already half hard.

The bell on the door rang above. Shigaraki hadn’t bothered to look, still distracted by that little pink tongue.

”You’re excited.”

Dabi.

Shigaraki huffed, slipping his hand down between his legs and readjusting himself as Dabi sat down beside him.

Dabi followed his line of sight, eyes landing on the obnoxiously loud college girls as they cackled about whatever the fuck they thought was so funny that the entire ice cream shop had to know about it. 

He knew who they were, the entire campus did. Those girls only went to every fucking party on campus, getting drunk and/or high out of their damn minds and wreaking havoc.

Dabi sighed, sinking into his seat with a grin.

”I love bitchy mean girls,” he murmured, eyeing one of the girls up, “They’re never that tough when they’re sobbing on your cock— not that you’d know anything about that,” he punctuated with a laugh.

Shigaraki said nothing, jaw tensing in response.

”Which one’s got you all chubbed up?” 

He sneered, “I thought you were hanging out with that asshole today.”

”Hawks is fucking his lab partner right now. Fucking bitch isn’t into spit roasting,” he shrugged, “Figured I’d see whatever shit you were getting up to instead.”

”Vanilla ice cream, rainbow sprinkles.”

Dabi’s eyes landed on you almost immediately, grin stretching wider on his pierced lips.

”Ah— the weak link. Not bad.” He nodded, “Guess you heard what happened last night?”

Shigaraki’s eyes widened a fraction, snapping his head towards Dabi.

”What happened?”

He quirked a brow, “Oh?” He said with a chuckle, “You didn’t see the videos? Little cock tease over there was slipped something last night at some party and started fingering herself in the middle of the fucking thing. There’s all these video’s going around.”

”Do you have any?”

“Someone‘s gotta crush~” he lilted, pulling his phone out, quickly opening his messages with Hawks then downloading and sending the video’s he had sent him last night.

Shigaraki was pulling his phone out before he even received the video’s, opening his messaging app and tapping on them as soon as they went through.

His breath hitched. You were on a couch, hand shoved under your skirt with your eyes all hazy and lidded, surrounded by ooing and aaing partygoers.

Your friends all stood around laughing in hysterics, doubled over, barely able to breathe as more people took their phones out.

His eyes snapped back to you.

Your sad puppy eyes made so much more sense now.

Shigaraki found himself swallowing his pride as the next words left his lips.

”You know how to talk to girls, right?”

”I know how to get them into bed,” he replied smugly.

”Then…” he trailed off, not knowing the right words, “Do you think—“

”Sure. But I want in,” he nodded.

”…You think she’d be into spit roasting?”

Dabi’s grin widened as he eyed you up now. You looked so sad and anxious as you sat with the friends that hadn’t protected you last night.

You were a little lamb, all alone, surrounded by wolves… being hunted by wolves.

”She doesn’t have to be.” He felt his cock throb, watching that little pink tongue dart out, licking that ice cream cone, “She’ll do it anyway.”

[floralscented]

please please please — john b x kook!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, kook!reader. john b in jail </3. it's cutesie though. sex mention, it's at the end so ... do w that what u will.

❛ please, please, please — don't prove i'm right! ❜

john b was so fucking stupid, turning himself in and letting himself be thrown in jail. who did that? you remember from growing up alongside them, throughout the years, both him and jj saying, and you quote, “never trust the fucking feds.” 

maybe it was just jj who said it — or at least meant it, with the way that john b scurried off and left. left. left you alone. 

the pogues had been to see him in jail already. you hadn’t. you didn’t want to. sitting in a dingy cell with a piece of glass separating them, having to talk through a phone like any of that was fair? no, you couldn’t do it. 

until you really, really started to miss him. his friends still hadn’t warmed up to you, so they weren’t very open to hearing your incessant rambling about what john b would be doing right now if he was here. what they thought he ate in jail that day ( jj said mush and mystery meat, and that was enough to halt your questioning for the day ). 

kie dragged you to the jailhouse that very next day. sit, she said, stay, like you were a dog. 

there was a buzz above the door on the other side of the glass, then the door pushed open, and there he was. face more stubbly than you’d ever seen it, hair a bit ratty, but god, his eyes were so bright, like seeing you was the best thing he’d experienced in a long while. 

you already have the phone to your ear. kie didn’t tell you to stay still, after all. 

“was waitin’ for you to show up,” he says into the receiver once he sits, lifts it. 

you lift your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. he doesn’t have to know you were dragged here because you were annoying his friends. 

“so, what’s jail like?” and your voice sounds so damn chipper, as if seeing him behind a wall of glass was just the norm. 

john b stumbles on a laugh. “why, princess? wanna join me in here?” 

“no,” you choke out, and now you’re laughing too. his laugh is so pretty. it deepens the dimples in his cheeks. “i don’t look good in orange.” 

“darlin’, you look good in everything,” he argues, “y’just don’t want to fuck up your nails in these cells.” 

he’s always known how to read you like a book. how were you supposed to get through this? 

“how do i get you out of here?” you ask, your eyes bouncing between the both of his, as if they held the answer to the world in their irises. 

“mmm,” he hums, his smirk softening slightly, “the short answer is that you don’t.” 

your manicured fingers curl into a fist. his eyes drop to it resting on the table, and he softens even more. “don’t do somethin’ stupid,” he whispers, the sound of it so cruelly muffled through the phone. 

“that’s jj’s job,” you try to joke. neither of you laugh. “we’re working on it. you know? we’re trying to… i don’t know, figure out something.” 

“oh, are you? all of you?” 

your eyes roll. “okay. they are.” your nails tap on the stone table, looking for something to keep your hands occupied so you don’t turn into a gushy sap. “they wouldn’t let me offer to pay your bail.” 

“handout money,” he tsks, “yeah, they wouldn’t do that.” 

“i’d do it though. i would.” 

john b’s mouth quirks in the corner again. “‘course you would. you miss me so bad you probably feel sick, don’t you?” 

you scoff. “i don’t.” 

it’s a lie. the truth is that he’s right. he’s not often right in relation to you or him; you weren’t about to let him get an ego trip now. 

john b laughs again, hearty and crackly through the phone’s speaker against your ear. “who am i gonna tell in here, princess? don’t act so tough all of a sudden.” 

he didn’t know that acting tough was the only thing getting you through this. your boyfriend was in jail. the entire town thought he was a murderer. they looked at you like the crazy girl who’d gotten seduced by the criminal. 

the only thing keeping you from crumbling was the ( albeit wary ) support of the pogues. the entire rest of outer banks had turned its back to you. 

“please don’t prove i’m right, john b,” you say after a long few seconds. “please don’t let me have a reason to worry about you in here. please, just— just know what you’re doing, not letting me help—” 

john b was already nodding by the time you finished. he kept his eyes locked on you, his lips in that infuriatingly soft smile he always wore when you were rambling, or sad, or rambling and sad.

“i know what i’m doing.” 

he sounded sure enough of himself that you feel a flood of relieved warmth wash over all of your senses. 

it doesn’t last, though. not with the twinkling sparkle in his eyes as he watches you. “now… y’think we could get away with a little phone sex in here?”

[sparrowxlake]

Mind Your Manners - Lucy Maclean x Fem!Reader

*clanging pots and pans together* come get y'all smut

summary: lucy wakes in a strange mood. after ducking into an old gas station to hide from raiders, you quickly realize what that mood is all about.

warnings: 18+ content minors dni, vaginal fingering, soft dom!reader, bratty!lucy, dirty talk

From the moment she woke, Lucy’s had an awkward, nervous energy. You can practically feel her buzzing, the air around her prickling with an almost tangible static. 

“Oh, I’m fine! Just a weird dream,” She’d explained with a stilted laugh, eyes darting nervously. You didn’t push, shrugging your shoulders and returning to breaking down camp. All day, she’s distracted and twitchy. When you catch her looking at you, she turns away in apparent panic. It’s a bit alarming, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, starting off on another story about Vault 33. You nod along, not really listening as you scan the horizon. Lucy yelps when you catch her by the arm. She follows your gaze, spotting the figures in the distance. Whoever they are, things seem to be going poorly. The figures are visibly arguing and the pop of a gunshot lets you know that you should probably not intervene. Rather than giving Lucy the opportunity to test her diplomacy, you clap a hand over her mouth and drag her off the road into a derelict gas station. It’s far too open to hide out in the front, so you end up in the restroom. “Are you completely crazy?!” Lucy demands when you finally release her. You scoff, looking her up and down. “I’d be crazy not to get you out of there. Last thing we need is a repeat of your last raider negotiation.” If she wasn’t already red, she is now. “Well, you could have at least said something? I don’t know, maybe: ‘Hey, Lucy, let’s get off the road to avoid whatever the heck that is?’ Maybe throw in a please and thank you?”

“Sure, how about this,” You begin, leaning in with a smirk. “I’m ever so sorry for saving your ass from those raiders. So sorry for making sure you keep your pretty mouth closed. Thank you for not biting my hand.”

“I’ve half a mind to do it now,” Lucy mutters, narrowing her eyes. 

“Go right ahead, sweetheart. Bite me.”

Your tone is challenging, eyes alight with mischief. You lean in further, boxing her in as you rest a hand against the wall by her head. You even tilt back your head in a mock offering, giving her easy access to the column of your neck. 

When her gaze sweeps up your neck and finally locks with yours, you begin to understand what she’s been feeling all morning. The tension in the air around her, the guilty looks, the nervous energy. You feel a little foolish for not having recognized it sooner.

Before you can say anything, she’s pulling you into a searing kiss. Her hands are in your hair, tugging you closer. You are stunned initially, but feel yourself smirk against her lips. She actually whines when you pull away, leaving her pouting. “Have you been thinking about this all day, Lucy?” You ask with a quirk of your brow. Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw as her hand comes to rest on your shoulder. “Not exactly this…” You snort and she shoves you lightly, feigning offense. You quickly close the distance again, pulling her close by the waist. When you lean in to kiss her again, she turns her head away. You make a low sound in your throat, a disapproving sound. Lucy seems quite pleased with herself, playing with the top of your shirt. She’s giving her best impression of innocence as your hand reaches up to take her chin, turning her face to make eye contact. Her skin is soft, unmarred by the cruelty of the wasteland. You can feel her breath coming in warm puffs over your hand. “Going to behave?” You question, voice low and velvety. Her composure breaks at this, eyes flicking down to your mouth. Her grip on your shirt tightens, the material pulling tight around your neck and shoulders. She tries to lean forward, but you don’t allow it, keeping her firmly in place with the hand on her chin. “I asked a question, Lucy. Are you gonna behave or not?” When she licks her lips, you feel your stomach lurch. It ignites a fire low in your belly, a want that is mirrored in Lucy’s hungry eyes. “Yes, fine. Now, please,” She responds, voice high and needy. When your mouths meet again, there’s no hesitation or teasing. It’s messy and desperate and hungry. She’s moaning into it, allowing your tongue to invade her mouth, allowing you to possess her. Your hand goes to her thick brown locks, fisting into her hair as you pull her head back. With her body pressed to hers, you feel her shift and roll her hips into you, desperate for some relief from the growing ache between her thighs.

“So pretty when you’re all needy. Should’ve said something this morning,” You taunt, leaning in to ghost your lips over her jaw and down her throat. The sounds coming out of her mouth spur you on, sucking an angry red mark into the hollow of her throat before continuing a path of open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbones. Your free hand, the one not currently tangled in her hair, finds the zipper of her blue jumpsuit. It’s already half open, loose around her shoulders. You pull the zipper the rest of the way down to her waist. Lucy’s hands find their way under your shirt, thumbs flicking over your nipples as you groan into her skin.

Your hand dips down into her jumpsuit, fingers pressing over her already soaked underwear. She whimpers desperately, rolling her hips into your touch. You pull back enough to take in the sight of her. 

Lucy’s a desperate mess; hair disheveled, mouth swollen, bruises already forming down her throat. It fills you with equal amounts pride and need. You’re the one who’s making her like this, the only one who can make such a mess of her. “I kinda like the idea of you walking around all day like this. Wanting me so bad that you can’t think straight,” You murmur as your fingers trace up and down her clothed slit, torturously slow. She looks at you like cornered prey, only she’s desperate to be devoured. Those big doe eyes burning into yours, hands practically clawing at your chest, hips bucking against your fingers. It’s cute, the way she presses her hips in and grinds against you, seeking more friction. “If you want something, you should ask for it,” You tell her as she whines. You’re just about to withdraw your hand completely when she relents. “I want you to stop teasing me and touch me.” You consider her request, putting on a show of looking contemplative. You’re going to give her the relief she’s looking for, but only when she remembers her manners. If she was going to taunt you with please and thank you, you were going to make Lucy pay for it now. 

When you give her an expectant look she looks bewildered, brows furrowing. Her hand goes to your wrist when you start to pull back. “Wait-I asked-” “And you said you were gonna behave. Here you are, forgetting your manners,” You scold, making a tsk sound to punctuate your words. She guides your hand back down to where she wants it, eyes pleading. “Please, touch me.” You let her guide your fingers. You push her underwear to the side, finally giving her what she wants. Lucy’s tension melts away as your fingers glide through her folds, head falling back against the wall with a light thud. Your hand is coated in her arousal as you stroke her, finger circling over her clit.

“Was that so hard?” You tease, mouth ghosting over her ear. You nip at her earlobe as she lets out a shaky breath, tilting her head to the side, offering up her neck again. You oblige, trailing licks and nips down the sensitive skin of her throat as your hand continues toying with her clit. She doesn’t forget her manners this time when she asks for more. You chuckle against her shoulder. “Mouth or fingers?” “Don’t care, just more.” You shift your hand down, finger pressed to her entrance. You can feel her muscles twitch as she lets out a frankly filthy moan. “Please.” One finger sinks into her heat and her hands find your waist, nails biting into your skin. She bucks her hips in a futile attempt to take you further. Your pace is torturous, shallow thrusts of a single digit. You know she needs more, but her begging is just too pretty to pass up. 

With your free hand, you pull up her tank top enough to expose her breasts, not hesitating to trace your tongue from underside to nipple. She’s so perfect, so beautiful. Her body stands in stark contrast to your own, a near flawless expanse of lightly tanned skin, freckled at the shoulders. Your own is covered in scars and imperfections, a result of a hard life in the wasteland. She’s whining again, begging for more, pleading for it. You press a second finger into her, earning a low groan. Your thumb rubs in earnest against her clit as your fingers pump, drawing her closer to the edge. 

Lucy’s tell-tale sign that she’s close is when she finally starts to quiet. It’s as if her whole body is focused on her pleasure, moans and whimpers barely more than sharp breaths or little whines as her body writhes. You can feel her thighs tremble as you fuck into her, breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. You pull back from her chest, taking a quick moment to assess the damage. You’ve left a smattering of red marks and saliva in the wake of your mouth. Satisfied, you look up at her face. She’s lost in her pleasure, eyes shut and mouth hanging open, brows knitted together.

“Need you to look at me, Lucy,” You tell her, nuzzling into her cheek. She does, lidded eyes locking with yours as you press your foreheads together. You love this, the erotism, the intimacy, the vulnerability. Those pretty eyes staring into yours while you fuck her senseless. “There’s my girl,” You murmur, a cocky smile flickering over your features. “Go ahead, I got you.” If the prelude is quiet, her orgasm is the opposite. She lets out a choked sound, more sob than moan, walls clenching around your fingers. Her nails are scraping down your back, hips rolling wildly as she rides out the waves of her pleasure. You keep fucking her through it, lazily thumbing over her clit until her hands push against your waist, touch too overwhelming for her to bear.

You pull your hand back, wiping them on the back of your pants. She presses her face into your shoulder, steadying herself and catching her breath. You wrap your arms around her shoulders in a grounding embrace.

“Thanks for that,” She finally says, voice muffled by your shirt. She nuzzles further into the crook of your neck affectionately.

“Finally remembering those manners, huh?” “Shut up.”

- - -

The danger of the raiders having long passed, you two return to your travels. Lucy’s decidedly peppier now, all tension having dissipated. As you walk, she occasionally looks your way, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

You’re sure she’s got some ideas on how she’s going to pay you back later.

[a-dragons-journal]

Shared Phantoms

One of the things systemhood has brought - indeed, in hindsight, one of the first signs of Viridian’s presence - is blendy phantom shifts that only happen with certain combinations of fronters. It’s an interesting phenomenon, especially when it’s not something that the fictives experienced before arriving here.

The most dramatic, I believe, is in fact the phantoms that Viridian and I co-fronting produces - which is to say, together we turn into a feathered dragon phantom-wise, something neither of us is on our own. We gain a feathered crest down the back of the skull and spine, similar to my webbed crest but with a different feel to it that’s hard to describe, and smaller, softer “body” feathers on the neck that we mostly notice when she-wei get flustered, embarrassed, or startled and the neck feathers rouse (ruffle and resettle) without our really meaning them to. We can intentionally move them as well.

I think I know why this happens, but it’s only a guess: before Viridian woke up fully, one of the AUs I’d played around with for her and her sourcemates was a dragon AU, in which Viridian is indeed a somewhat feathered dragon. Interestingly, that design doesn’t actually have the smaller body feathers, only the crest - but I suspect that’s what cemented “dragon!Viridian = feathers” in our brain, and thus when Viridian gets affected by my dragonbrain, it produces feathers. But it’s still a weird thing, especially since Viridian never had this in source - her brother-broodmate actually has phantom feathers, courtesy of being an anchiornis therian, but she never did. Caldwells is feathers, I guess. We have no data on whether she would still get these phantoms if she fronted without me, unfortunately, since it’s currently very difficult for me to leave front (and usually as soon as we realize I have I reflexively snap back into it anyway).

Viridian also gets one other phantom, one she actually does have in-source but never talks about - the sensation of retracting her fangs. Most Kindred can retract and extend their fangs at will, but Viridian has a quirk of the Blood (mechanically speaking, the Permanent Fangs Flaw) that prevents her from doing this and keeps her fangs permanently extended. She can try, however, and when she does she experiences a phantom sensation of the fangs retracting even though it doesn’t actually change anything.

…Here’s the funny thing about that. We learned only after she arrived here and off-handedly mentioned this to a sourcemate that that’s not how that works. It doesn’t feel like much of anything to most Kindred, apparently, at least in their universe. And after thinking about it, what we’re fairly sure happened is that shortly after her Embrace, when she was trying so hard to figure out how to make it work, she accidentally trained her brain into a phantom sensation that shouldn’t exist. Which is extremely funny (“if a little embarrassing,” she mutters from the back) in hindsight, but it’s also kind of interesting that it’s stuck around even after realizing this.

Another headmate who gets phantom shifts now even though she didn’t back in source is Loretta, the other resident dragon - though she has significantly more control over her shifts than I do mine, since transformation to and from human comes naturally to her kind of dragon, she usually chooses to let it happen anyway because we kind of enjoy them. Her tail is markedly different from mine - lighter, more flexible, and much more capable of curling upward to facilitate slashing with the single-edged blade her tailtip is equipped with - and occasionally the two fight for space; we can only have one at a time, it seems. Sometimes this leads to it flipping back and forth; usually Loretta’s tail wins out, I think because it’s more expressive and mobile than mine and thus attracts more of the brain’s conscious attention.

And while Loretta and I co-fronting doesn’t produce a unique set of phantom shifts (at least not so far), it does allow each of us to feel the other’s anatomy, which is… interesting sometimes, especially since any amount of focus on my headspace body leads to phantom shifts in the physical of whatever draconic body parts I may have in headspace at the time (it varies). It means that if she runs a hand along my wing in headspace, for example, we both feel both sides of the sensation - running “my” hand along “its” wing; “her” hand running along “my” wing. It’s… almost disorienting, but usually seems to work out okay? We haven’t played with it much, but what we have played with has been fun and interesting. It also means that I can often tell she’s come up closer to front by what feel like cameo shifts of her dragon shape, usually her ears and tail. (Interestingly, she doesn’t seem to pop wings as often as I do, maybe because in-source she can’t actually transform wings yet.)

So… yeah. I don’t really have a conclusion here, just making a set of notes.

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 8)

Wherein player [x+1] joins the battle.

“Don’t drown him, Gekkō-san.” 

Midoriya seemed less alarmed by Kei’s choices and more just resigned. She’d already demonstrated to his satisfaction that nobody died in her watery doom constructs unless she wanted them to. Else the USJ would’ve had a lot fewer arrested villains and a lot more body bags than just the big one.

At least it gave them data on how the Nōmu guys worked. Still, Kei nodded. “I won’t. Oh, and Iida-kun?” 

Iida couldn’t turn his face away to hide from her, thanks to whatever Stain’s Quirk was, but he did close his eyes. It was all he could do. 

Maybe it would help to hear this. Maybe it wouldn’t. But Kei could at least be honest this once. “You already know I’d kill him.” And that got Iida to look up. Just with his eyes. “If this man targeted my little brother, he’d be dead.” 

And her hold on Stain’s throat never changed, despite that. 

Iida’s expression was a terrible whirl of turmoil. Like he couldn’t believe Kei’s blatant hypocrisy any more than Stain’s fragmented philosophy. Whatever he’d been forced to listen to before Midoriya and Kei showed up, at least. “But—”

“I don’t pretend that’s a good thing. Just a human one.” And not something they should be discussing here. 

Even if Kei had no actual intention of letting Stain go free, she had to at least pretend to care about procedures. If Obito recovered from his Kamui overuse and returned to the greater Tokyo metropolitan area tonight, Kei figured shoving the problem off on him was a decent backup plan. After, say, the police or heroes. Obito would remember not to kill the guy, right?

And then there was someone running their way. It wasn’t until the blue shape in the dark got closer that Kei heard a familiar voice shout, “Midoriya!” 

While most of their group either couldn’t move on their own (Iida, Native) or had more immediate problems (Kei, Stain), Midoriya did jump to his feet and wave. “Todoroki-kun! You got my message?”

“For reference,” Todoroki continued as he arrived and took in the scene of moderate carnage and a lot of awkward standing around, “try to give more information than just a location next time.” 

Though there was fire trailing up his left side and frost coating his right sleeve, he didn’t look like he’d been hurt. Just like he’d had to run all the way here, fully anticipating a fight when he arrived. Instead, he got to see a bit of a clown show instead. 

Kei shrugged when Todoroki aimed a silent question her way. She still had the armed—yes, his knife and sword were still drawn—Hero Killer in a Water Prison, it was polite of Todoroki to notice.

At least, Todoroki asked, “Did all of this happen in just five minutes?”

“Oh, y-yeah. Sorry about only using a pin, but that was all the time we had.” Midoriya didn’t bow, but it looked like a close call. “Thanks for heading here so fast, though!” 

“Not fast enough,” said Todoroki, clearly taking note of the blood still present on the ground. Sure, Kei had gotten Native away from his original bloodstain, but Midoriya didn’t have enough bandages for him and for Iida, and one of Iida’s injuries was dangerously close to an artery. 

“I think showing up before the villain kills everyone is good enough,” Kei said, and rotated the Water Prison so Stain could breathe again. When Todoroki took a step closer, possibly to freeze the villain in place, Kei held up her free hand. “I’ve got him, Todoroki-kun. Help the others, please.” 

Todoroki sighed, and the result was an icy fog. “All right.”

While getting Iida bandaged was a trial without him being able to cooperate, Stain’s Quirk wore off while Todoroki and Midoriya were trying to figure out where the catches in his shoulder pauldron were. In short order, the three boys managed to get upright and talked mostly to each other in low, sharp tones. From what Kei overheard, Midoriya filled Todoroki in on everything he’d missed. Iida, meanwhile, got two lectures right over Native’s head once all the information laid bare between them. 

Iida may have been crying. Kei focused on Stain to give him plausible deniability if needed. 

Honestly, Kei would’ve left them to it. She didn’t have anything helpful to say that they couldn’t handle without her. No canned phrases or quaint sayings. All she had was a careful balance of truth shrouded by lies and omissions, neither of which relied solely on her. Staying standoffish for most of the school year so far—barring the 1-A girls’ friendship blitz—was a good stealth strategy on paper, but it retained some key flaws. Like her total inability to comfort any of these kids after a traumatic encounter. 

What I wouldn’t give for a shock blanket—

Do you hear that? Isobu interrupted, kicking Kei back into full alertness. Like the menagerie he was, half-a-dozen animal instincts all clamored for Kei’s attention at once. 

Iida shouted, “Gekkō—!” just as lightning descended from the sky. 

[reveriememory]

Astarion x Tav OC

Cat and dog energy. These lovebirds roam in my daydreams! Insight about this drawing in the Read More.

Draft - Sketch & Lining - Coloring

The draft was revamped a few times, especially with my Tav’s body angle. I forced myself to be quick with it as my goal for this drawing was something “quick” and simple…ish. Since it was only headshots, I was curious to see what I would prioritize considering I lifted off most stress from full body anatomy.

Sketch and lining are together because I basically did my final sketch then sculpted in the lines, meaning I cleaned and erased the edges to my liking. You can tell Astarion got a HUGE improvement! Liquify tool is a life saver! I allowed myself to be a bit messy, or at least forgiving about line quirks. Technically, I didn’t line the pupils and hair, as I’ve learned to work off its silhouette. I block in the shape, Alpha Lock, then render/color. It’s an awkward in between but for the sake of nice images, I adjusted them to fit the line art, otherwise I’d have to leave them bald.

Coloring, I work through sections, so here I jump around a lot! I had a lot of fun figuring out how to mimic traditional art, and kept swooning at how cute this was LOL. I had a lot of fun with my new brushes and the setup inspired me to keep working. Although, that could also be the 8 hour sessions of BG3 talking. Astarion was very scary to color, so you can imagine how HAPPY I was to have pulled this off! He took the most time. Goes to show just how comfortable I was with this style of drawing that I didn’t feel super drained!

Finalizing

I was going to call it done at that first one, but decided I could do more. Here is where I just messed around with different ideas, adding layers and color adjustments. In this case, I wanted something to compliment the traditional feel and really send the message across. I did a white border just as I would’ve years ago, when I did traditional art. It felt right to write in my signature instead as well. I used to love using gel pens. The final image has a little gradient map color filter, just to tie the colors together. I like giving my drawings a nice dreamy warmth to them.

Conclusion

I need to draw these two more. Astarion is a painful muse. Bury me with this drawing. I should do a proper character study on my Tav. He’s a sweet little redeemed Durge, I like to think of him as Astarion’s bloody droplet. Also I need to actually play Durge.

I’m so happy with this drawing. ;)

[ellswritings]

Heart Monitor 1x06

Episode 7

To Fallon’s surprise, after her accident and spending pretty much all night in the hospital, when she returned home, Derek was still there. Pretty engrossed in his book to her delight. He was pretty concerned about her leg, which happened to be a clean break. He was furious when he found out what happened, but so was Stiles. It was interesting hearing them say pretty much the exact same thing without the other knowing. They both unknowingly agreed that Scott needs to step away from Allison to regain focus.

Stiles’ idea of getting Scott to understand his mistakes is by giving him the silent treatment. So sitting in their shared class, Fallon stares blankly at the white board, periodically writing down notes as Scott desperately tries to get them to talk to him. After a while she did start to feel bad. He has apologized incessantly since the accident and while Fallon did originally want to hit him with a car of her own, she slowly began to miss talking to him.

“Seriously?” Scott sighs upsetly. “You guys seriously are still not talking to me?” No response. “Fallon, you know how sorry I am. I mean, at least it was a clean break, right? My mom says they have a better chance at healing without complications.”

The girl looks down at the white cast covering her leg. He’s right, clean breaks do have a better chance at healing fully. She’s devastated though that she’ll have to sit out at lacrosse practice for the next couple of weeks, which is actually one of the main reasons she wanted to wring Scott’s neck. But knowing Coach, he’ll kill Scott before she does.

She reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. She pops one into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of water. She didn’t do it as a way to make Scott feel bad, but seeing him hang his head in shame out of the corner of her eye did make her feel slightly vindicated.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” He tries once again. Fallon can hear the sadness in his voice. She glances at Stiles, seeing if he’s ready to give in yet. Freckles shakes his head, commanding her with his eyes to stand her ground. She huffs, dropping her head into her hand with a frown. Scott leans forward even further, tapping Fallon on the shoulder. “Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... that I went to Derek for help?”

Fallon’s head snaps towards Stiles faster than it ever has before. She makes a wild gesture with her hands, showing how desperately she wants to give her opinion on the matter. Stiles tries to stay strong, but the pleading look in her eyes causes him to groan. He exhales loudly out of his nose, “If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting im. But, obviously, I'm not talking to you…”

Fallon’s lip quirks up in a small smile. She lazily writes in her notebook, pretending not to care. “And if I was talking to you, I’d say that I’m proud of you for stepping up and getting help from someone who has more experience with this than you.” Stiles glares at her for complimenting him and she just shrugs. “It’s like the devil and angel on the shoulder thing,” she explains. “I’m the nice one.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles narrows his eyes, “And I’ve kissed Taylor Swift.”

Scott smiles brightly as things seem to return to normal between the three for a moment. Her and Stiles make eye contact, faces going stoic for a split second. They wordlessly communicate, making Scott wonder how they learned to read each other’s facial expressions so well. Both of them turn around at the same time.

“What did Derek say?”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Walking out of their class together, Scott sticks to Fallon’s side which isn’t heavily unusual, but she’s used to him taking up Stiles’ side, not hers. Most of the time when they walk together, Stiles is in the middle while Fallon takes up his left and Scott his right. But now she’s in the middle. She doesn’t mind it, it’s clearly him feeling guilty over what happened. He even took her backpack from her before she could even grab her crutches. If this is the new treatment he’s giving her, she’s definitely not going to complain.

“Wh--? He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks him incredulously after hearing what Derek said to Scott.

“Yeah…”

“All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” He gestures between Fallon and himself.

Scott sighs, “I know. That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it,” he explains.

Fallon tilts her head in thought, “I mean, it’s not impossible…” she admits. “I know it feels difficult right now, but Derek has control doesn’t he?” She points out with a shrug. “He obviously learned how to do it over time. I don’t think he came out knowing how to be a werewolf. While I do believe he came out with a leather jacket and angry cat face, I don’t think he came out being an expert on control.”

“How do you think he’s going to teach you?” Stiles asks, nodding along with Fallon’s statement.

“I don’t know,” Scott adjusts his backpack strap with an unsure expression. “I don’t think he does either…”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his friend's lack of knowledge, “Okay. When are you seeing him again?”

“He told me not to talk about it,” Scott answers. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Fallon shoots him a pointed look, “When?” She asks, knowing there has to be a more specific time than that.

Scott looks at her, huffing as he knows he can’t keep anything from her after letting her get run over. “He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

Stiles nods, “After work. All right. Well, that gives us to the end of the school day then.”

Scott furrows his brows, “To do what?”

Stiles and Fallon make eye contact, smiling in unison, “To teach you ourselves.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

When lunch rolled around, Fallon was summoned by Lydia and Allison, the two girls wanting to see how she was doing after all that happened. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long as Stiles strode by, grabbing her backpack and lunch tray and taking it over to their usual table. She watched after him, jaw agape while the other two girls just looked at her confused. He just stared at her, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to hobble over to him. Seeing as he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, she bid her two friends goodbye before venturing over to him.

That brings them to the present moment, her smacking the back of his head for his rude behavior. “Y’know you could’ve just asked me to sit with you like a normal person,” she scolds, plopping down in her seat.

Stiles takes her crutches, putting them on his other side so they’re not in her way. “If I would’ve done that you would’ve just put your finger up and told me to wait,” he points out. “At least this way, you couldn’t tell me no,” he smiles innocently.

Fallon narrows her eyes but can’t prevent the grin that spreads across her face. She shoves him playfully, “Don’t look at me like that when I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“You’re not mad at me,” he rolls his eyes, popping a french fry from her plate into his mouth. “You can’t be mad at me. You love me too much. Your life would be so boring without me in it.”

“What you call boring most people would consider peaceful,” she shoots back sarcastically.

Stiles reaches over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him as he messes up her hair. The two of them roughhouse for a moment before Scott not-so-subtly slides into the seat across from them, clearly still avoiding Allison.

Fallon tilts her head, still stuck in Stiles’ lap. They stare at him as he hides his face behind one of his textbooks. The girl lifts an eyebrow, “I think using the book as a shield is making your intentions more obvious,” she says. “Besides, she’s not even looking over here. She seems pretty engrossed in whatever that book is about.”

Scott peeks over the pages, noticing that his somewhat girlfriend isn’t looking in his direction. He exhales, lowering the book but not straightening his posture to full height. “So, did you guys come up with a plan yet?”

Stiles nods, silently checking with Fallon. “We think so.”

He stares at them hopefully, “Does that mean you guys don’t hate me now?”

“No,” Fallon takes a spoonful of yogurt.

“No,” Stiles scoffs in agreement. “But your crap has infiltrated Fallon and I’s life, so now we have to do something about it,” he answers sassily. “Plus, I’m definitely a better Yoda than Derek.”

“I choose to take on a more Haymitch Abernathy role in this situation,” Fallon shrugs. “Drunkenly making sure my pseudo children don’t kill themselves,” she points at the two boys.

“Okay,” Scott nods with a small smile. “Yeah, you guys can teach me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your Yoda,” Stiles smiles.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says in a gruff voice, trying his best to mock the character from the films. Fallon chuckles, shaking her head at how horrible it was. “I said it backwards,�� Stiles laughs.

“Yeah, I-I know,” Scott nods slowly, showing how he still has never watched the movies, despite how many times Stiles has begged.

“All right, you know what?” Stiles gets up angrily, grabbing Fallon’s bag and crutches before helping her up. “I definitely still hate you. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.”

He storms off, Fallon huffing as she tries to keep pace. She shoots Scott an apologetic glance, but by the way Allison is approaching him, Stiles having a fit about Star Wars is the least of the werewolf’s worries.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon’s theatre class had ended up being rather active for the girl’s current predicament. They were introducing new stretches and class bonding exercises to get everyone ready for the Beauty and the Beast production. She was upset that she couldn’t participate, but her teacher, Ms. Potter was more than understanding. She gave Fallon the script early, granting her a free period to read over it since she can’t do any of the activities in class.

So now she sits with a highlighter dangling from her mouth on the lacrosse field, her legs sprawled out. Her eyes gaze over the pages, writing small notes in her notebook about each character and what makes them tick. She briefly glances up as Stiles throws the equipment for Scott on the floor, looking at her with curiosity.

“What are you reading?” He asks, tossing his lacrosse bag at her to hold.

She catches it with ease, setting it down beside her. “The script for the play.”

“Oh,” he comments, not knowing it was that time already. “When are auditions?”

“Next week,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “I don’t think I’m gonna audition though. There’s just too much going on.”

Stiles looks at her incredulously, “What?” He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. You have to audition.”

“Stiles–”

“Fall, you are so good at singing,” he huffs. “You can’t just not audition. That would be like a crime to everyone’s ear holes.”

She playfully glares at him, “While I appreciate the compliment, there will be other shows for me to do. Right now, my priority is here with you and Scott.” She leans back on her arms, “Plus, I’m kind of stretched thin as it is with lacrosse and school,” she opens up honestly. “My counselor is already talking about enrolling me in a college English course next semester, so I just want to focus on getting through high school… and not getting ripped apart by a werewolf in the process.”

He looks at her with sympathy, but ultimately understands where she’s coming from. “All right. Well, you know that Scott and I would go see every show if you did decide to do it.”

“I know,” she smiles appreciatively.

At that moment, Scott comes running out of the school and over to his two friends. He stops in front of them, “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “It took me a minute to convince Mr. Smith to give me a free period,” he sets his backpack on the floor next to Fallon as well.

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves off hurriedly, grabbing something and handing it to Scott. “Okay. Now, put this on,” he commands.

Scott takes it, inspecting it with a confused look, “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He queries, unsure of how it would benefit them.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Fallon corrects nonchalantly, still observing the script.

Stiles speaks defensively, “Temporarily misappropriated,” he counters before turning his attention back to Scott. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Fallon shakes her head as Stiles pulls out a cellphone that definitely doesn’t belong to him. Scott’s jaw goes slack, “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?” He asks warily.

Stiles nods slowly, “That… I stole.”

“Why?” Scott looks at his friend, not even knowing where to start on labeling his issues.

“Because Master Yoda over here doesn’t understand the concept of rules,” Fallon smirks as Stiles looks more than offended. “Or laws, or personal boundaries. A side effect of your father being the sheriff.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear it,” he puts his hand up in her direction. “Last time I checked, that father got you out of a speeding ticket last week when you were practically flying through a residential area like Wolverine in X-Men Origins.”

“That was a very specific comparison,” Fallon snickers.

“Anyway…” he sends Fallon a look that says to stop interrupting unless she plans on being helpful. He points to the monitor on Scott’s wrist, “All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry... Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate,” he carefully explains the theory him and Fallon had been talking about.

“Like the Incredible Hulk?”

Fallon shrugs, “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.” She figures letting him think he’s a superhero will get him to try harder. It’s like Stiles and his unnatural fixation with becoming Spiderman. She lets him believe it could happen. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did. He definitely wouldn’t look half bad in the suit.

Scott smiles widely, “No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Would you shut up and put the strap on?”

The spastic boy tosses Fallon the phone, assigning her to keep track of his heart rate. The two boys travel out to the center of the field, Stiles duct taping Scott’s arms behind his back. Freckles smiles mischievously at Fallon from behind Scott. She raises an amused eyebrow, knowing this is Stiles getting revenge for the brunette girl.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period!” Scott complains as Stiles walks a few feet away, bending down to pick up his own lacrosse stick.

He blatantly ignores Scott’s words, “All right. You ready?” He asks, scooping a ball into his net.

“No.”

“Remember– don’t get angry,” Stiles warns him, cocking his arm back to launch the ball.

Scott shifts on his feet, eyeing Stiles unsurely. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” he voices.

Without another words, Stiles chucks the ball at Scott’s body, pelting him roughly. Fallon winces from her spot besides Stiles, glancing at the heart rate monitor. Still steady for now, only moving up one point. Stiles readies another ball, throwing it as hard as he can, nailing Scott in the chest.

“Oh, man!” The boy cries out. “Okay, that one kind of hurt.”

Fallon watches as a small satisfied smile makes its way onto Stiles’ face. He wiggles his eyebrows at her, offering his stick, “Wanna give it a go? It’s pretty therapeutic actually.”

“No!” Scott shouts with wide eyes. “Do not give her that stick.”

Stiles shushes him like a child, “Quiet. Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm.” He reminds before smirking as he helps Fallon to her feet. He hands her the stick, looking Scott directly in the eye. He pats her back, helping her stay upright. “Give it a go.”

Scott starts muttering encouraging words to himself under his breath as Fallon adjusts her grip on the stick. She smoothly scoops up a ball, licking her bottom lip. She lifts the stick, throwing it roughly at her best friend. The ball collides harshly with his gut, making him double over in pain. It sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“AHHH! Son of a bitch!”

“Nice!” Stiles chuckles, high fiving her. Scott shoots them an incredulous look which makes Stiles clear his throat awkwardly. He dismisses Scott, “Heart rate,” he points stiffly.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Scott screams at them with a heavily clenched jaw.

Fallon goes to sit back down, noticing his number climbing higher with every passing second. She shares a warning glance with Stiles before looking at Scott again. “Don't get angry.”

“I’m not getting angry!” He responds frustratedly.

Stiles continues his assault on Scott as Fallon carefully monitors Coach’s phone. She begins to get nervous as she watches the numbers climb higher and higher. 140. 141. 142. That’s when Stiles knocks him in the jaw, making Scott almost fall to the ground in pain. The boy tries to regain his footing, “Stop. Just wait– Wait, just hold on–” he groans, doubling over once again, but this time he actually collapses to the floor.

157. 158. 159. 160.

“Stiles!” Fallon gets his attention, a cautionary gaze in her eyes as she flashes him the phone. Scott continues groaning as Stiles places his stick on the floor. Suddenly the duct tape around his wrist flies off in different directions. Stiles and Fallon watch him with wide eyes. He’s shifting. The heart monitor starts beeping rapidly, his heart rate reaching high numbers that are nowhere near healthy for a normal person.

“Scott?” Stiles calls out warily, trying to find a way to calm him down.

His breathing gets heavier and deeper after a moment as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Fallon glances back at the phone to see the numbers slowly decreasing and returning to normal. She and Stiles let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“That could’ve gone in a seriously horrific direction,” she mumbles to him.

Stiles nods slowly, helping Fallon to her feet. The two of them travel over to the boy who is still folded over on the ground. “Scott, you started to change…” Stiles says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott breathes heavily as his pulse is still returning to normal, “From anger,” he adds. “But it was more than just that– it was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So Derek is right,” Fallon says thoughtfully. “It is anger that elicits a reaction.”

Scott shakes his head defeatedly, “I can’t be around Allison,” he says glumly.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles questions.

“No…” he looks up at them sadly. “Because she makes me weak.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon walks alongside Stiles as they walk into Coach’s economics class. The two of them snicker at a joke Fallon told him on the way in, earning a confused glance from their teacher. For how funny that man is, he sure doesn’t seem to be a big fan of laughter. The two teens just giggle again at his look of confusion before finishing their journey to the middle of the class. Stiles sets Fallon’s stuff down in the chair next to Scott’s, the two boys not having let her carry anything of her own all day. It was endearing and annoying at the same time, but she let them do it.

Stiles goes to sit behind Fallon, but a quick panicked look from Scott gets his attention. “Stiles. Sit behind me!” He whisper yells.

Fallon looks up and sees Allison beelining it for the exact same seat. Stiles scrambles to the side, trying to get all of his belongings and himself into the chair before she can. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Allison smoothly slides into the seat, smiling at Scott as she completely ignores Stiles. Scott turns in his chair, a frown plastered on his face as his plan to avoid Allison is not going as well as he hoped.

Fallon shoots Scott a sympathetic smile before reaching in her backpack to bring out last night's homework assignment. It wasn’t anything too difficult. Just a few pages of reading and a couple of questions to help summarize the important parts.

The bell rings loudly, indicating the start of the period. Coach turns to start writing about today’s topic of discussion on the board. She watches out of her peripherals as Allison leans forward in her desk to get closer to Scott. The boy tenses, sensing her growing closer in proximity. Allison doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension as she goes to talk to him.

“Hey,” she smiles happily. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Scott barely looks back, “Uh, yeah. I’ve been, uh, super busy,” he looks at Stiles and Fallon for help.

His two friends shrug at his misfortune, Fallon sinking further into her chair to avoid watching this train wreck go down. Scott has a look of momentary desperation until he has to cover it up when Allison grows closer. “When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

Yikes. Fallon’s phone buzzes with a text from Stiles.

She sneakily pulls it out, hiding it underneath her desk to respond. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed for her or for him.

She’s clueless and he’s awkward. Why can’t it be both?

True. She giggles at his reply. I feel bad. They’re both happy when they’re together. Sucks that they can’t be.

I mean, we don’t know that yet. Stiles counters.

He said she makes him weak. She reminds him.

Once he learns how to control it, it’ll be fine. He reassures her. We just gotta show him that he won’t hurt her. Or anyone else.

Yeah, ‘cause this gross couple-ey mutual pining crap is starting to get on my nerves. She rolls her eyes as Allison tells Scott she switched her lab partner to him. She loves them both together, she really does. But Fallon’s hopeless romanticism stops in the fictional worlds she reads about.

You’re such a romantic. Stiles smirks at her with sarcasm written on his face. It really is a shock that you’re still single.

Ditto.

Stiles kicks the back of her chair and she leans her head back, looking at him upside down. She smiles innocently, booping his nose before sitting upright again. He scoffs lowly, crossing his arms as he tries to act offended by her response.

A book slamming on a desk pulls everyone’s attention to the front. Coach Finstock has a menacing look on his face as he analyzes the class, “Let’s settle down,” he commands. “Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” Only one individual raises their hand, causing Coach to roll his eyes. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading,” he dismisses the boy, more annoyed now than he was before class. “How about, uh…” Everyone avoids eye contact with their teacher like the plague, trying to avoid being the one he calls on. “McCall!”

Scott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights, “What?”

Coach moves to sit on his desk, the tension within the small classroom slowly growing. “The reading.”

Scott shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “… Last night's reading?” He wonders, seemingly trying to stall so he doesn’t have to do it.

Coach grows irritated with the question, starting to realize that Scott didn’t do the assignment, “H-How about, uh, the reading of The Gettysburg Address?” He suggests sardonically making the rest of the class laugh. Fallon wiggles her own between her fingers nervously. Coach making fun of him like this is going to make him shift in front of everyone.

Scott looks even more confused, “What?”

“That’s sarcasm,” Coach reveals with a tilt of his head. “You familiar with the term sarcasm, McCall?”

He slowly turns to the two friends on his right, “Very,” he answers. Fallon simply glares at him while Stiles smiles proudly, patting Fallon’s back like it’s a team effort. Which, most of the time it is.

Coach huffs, looking at him expectantly, “Did you do the reading, or not?”

The boy plays with the pages of the book in front of him, his embarrassment increasing. “Um, I think I forgot…”

“Nice work, McCall,” his teacher praises fakely. “It’s not like you’re not averaging a D in this class.” He leans forward on Scott’s desk, his anger being replaced by concern. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a D.”

Fallon’s attention is stolen when she hears the familiar beeping of Coach’s phone tracking the heart monitor. She pulls it out of her pocket, eyes widening when she sees Scott’s pulse rising. Stiles leans forward, watching along with her as the numbers start to increase with everything Coach says.

“How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” He suggests. 98. 99. 100.

Scott silently shakes his head, hoping that he somehow finds a supernatural way to turn invisible. “No?” Finstock mocks. “How about, the uh, the night before that?” Scott fiddles with his fingers as he avoids eye contact. 122. 123. 124. “How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read in your entire life?!” 135. 136. 137.

“I-I… uh–”

“No? A blog?” Coach asks, looking for any sort of hope that Scott’s done something. “How about, uh, h-how about, uh, the back of a cereal box?” Scott tries to hide his face behind his hand as their teacher continues grilling him. Fallon is now bouncing her leg up and down, hoping that Scott gets some sort of reprieve from this. “No? How about the adults-only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach gives up and goes to retreat back to his desk. “Thank you, McCall, thank you. Thank. You. McCall.” He emphasizes with a slap to his desk. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” 159. 160. 161.

Fallon looks at Scott, trying to comfort him with a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t notice. His face simply grows redder and redder and his chest heaves up and down with angry breaths. “You just blew it for everybody,” Coach continues. “Thanks. Next practice, you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Suddenly the monitor stops beeping as rapidly. Fallon glances at it surprised as she watches his heart rate start to go down. Despite all the laughter and snickers from their classmates, it’s actually going down. Fallon and Stiles visibly relax and when they look over to their friend, they see his arm reaching backwards. Allison is holding his hand tightly, rubbing her thumb across the top of it comfortingly. Fallon tilts her head. Maybe Scott was right in a way. Allison is his weakness, but in a way that gives him control. She keeps his anger at bay, keeps him grounded.

When the bell rings, they all could not be happier to get out of there. Scott still looks a bit mortified after everything that happened. Stiles once again grabs Fallon’s bag, carrying it on his shoulder. Allison bids her goodbyes to Scott, heading in the opposite direction the trio is. As soon as they are sure she’s out of ear shot, Fallon smacks his arm, “Dude, it’s her.”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, confused by the random statement.

“It’s Allison,” Fallon elaborates while Stiles nods along.

“Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?” He brings up. “You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay…” Scott says, still not understanding what they’re getting at.

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field,” Stiles adds, trying to see if he can put it together.

Scott nods with a small smile, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that's what brought you back so you could pass the ball and we could score,” Fallon finishes explaining. “And then, after the game, in the locker room, you didn't kill her– at least, not like how you were trying to kill us.” Scott frowns, sending her a pointed look. Fallon huffs, “She’s like your anchor is what I’m saying. She brings you back. No need to get your werewolf panties in a bunch.”

Scott shakes his head at her statement, “No, no, no. But it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her, or-or touching her–”

Fallon’s nose scrunched up in disgust as Stiles cuts him off, “No, that’s not the same. When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, y’know?”

“I really do not want to be having this conversation with you two,” Fallon grumbles uncomfortably, especially when she notices the smirk on Scott’s face. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut, “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah,” he admits. “Sorry.”

“Just don’t ever give me any details on anything you guys do, okay?” Fallon says before shaking off her disgust. “Anyway, back in the classroom when she held your hand, that was different. She may be your weakness per say, but not in the way you originally thought. I think she actually gives you control. You might go feral if she gets hurt, but that’s besides the point. She’s what actually keeps you human.”

“You mean because I love her?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods.

Fallon’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden admission. She wasn’t expecting Scott to just randomly admit that out loud. He apparently wasn’t expecting himself to say it either, “Did I just say that?” He asks them.

“Yeah,” Fallon smiles softly. “You did.”

Scott gets even more giddy than he already was, readjusting his straps as he continues to profess his love. “I love her.”

Stiles rolls his eyes impatiently, “That’s great! Now moving on–”

“No, no, no, really– I think I’m totally in love with her,” he insists.

“And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please?” Stiles gesticulates over dramatically. “Because you obviously can't be around her all the time.”

Scott snaps back, refocusing on the task at hand. He nods, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Sorry. So, what do I do?”

“We don’t know,” the boy huffs, pausing for a moment. “Yet.”

Scott looks at him alarmed, “Oh, no. You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” Stiles smirks.

“Is this idea going to get me in trouble?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fallon nods, not knowing the specifics of the plan, but knowing Stiles well enough that it’s going to entail some more revenge.

Scott groans, “Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?”

Stiles nods rapidly, “Yeah, definitely. Come on.”

Fallon crutches along behind the two boys, furrowing her eyebrows as they head out to the parking lot. Stiles looks back at her and she tilts her head, silently asking what his plan is. The boy simply shakes his head, mouthing “just wait.”

Scott looks just as lost as Fallon, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles looks into the distance as if he’s checking something before turning around to instruct Scott. “Okay, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott pulls them out to show him. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up like so,” he demonstrates, lazily holding his arm up in the air. “Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?”

“Okay…”

“Fallon, my partner in crime, come stand with me please,” Stiles requests and she moves over to him. “Just keep holding it right there…” He summons Fallon to follow him as he sneakily walks over to the black truck behind them. She narrows her eyes as she watches him pull out his own keys. Her jaw drops as Stiles nonchalantly keys the truck before sliding his keys back into his pocket. He taps her shoulder, telling her to call attention to it.

Fallon looks at Scott who’s silently begging her not to do what Stiles is saying. She glances back at Stiles who is just nodding menacingly. “Do it,” he whispers.

She sighs, sending Scott an apologetic look, “Dude! What the hell do you think you're doing to that truck?!” She yells fakely. Stiles has to hold back the mini celebration he wants to have as the owner of said truck turns around.

“What the hell?!” The student yells, approaching Scott who nervously fumbles with his keys. He tries to shake his head, saying it wasn’t him who did it, but the other student clearly isn’t buying it.

“Oh my God!” Fallon shouts, flinching backwards as the guy socks Scott in the face without hesitation.

Stiles grips onto her as Scott tries to fight the guy back, but he’s over powered when the other student’s friends decide to join in. Scott is thrown to the floor, giving the others the upper hand as they drag him backwards. They continue hitting him in the face and kicking his abdomen. Fallon hears the phone beeping once more and she sends Stiles a glare.

“This was your brilliant idea?” She snaps.

“If he just thinks of Allison, it should work!” He defends. His eyes travel back to Scott as Fallon pulls out the phone. His heart rate is spiking once again. “Ahh,” he taps his foot nervously. “Come on. Stay calm. Stay calm.”

Fallon looks over her shoulder, “Is there really no one here to stop this? No teachers? Nothing?” She asks with a scoff.

“Oh, that's not okay.” Stiles winces. 129. 130. 131. “Scott, come on, buddy…”

Fallon feels the need to interfere, but the way Stiles is clutching onto her prevents her from going anywhere. She holds her breath, waiting for this nightmare to be over. She knows Scott will heal from all of this, but it’s still hard for her to watch him get beat up like this.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Harris comes barreling through, barking at the assailants to stop. The brunette girl never thought she would be grateful to see Mr. Harris, but she stands corrected. The other boys run off, leaving Scott on the floor with a bloodied up nose and a decent amount of bruising. Something probably broke, but isn’t visible due to his supernatural healing.

“What do you idiots think you’re doing?” Harris asks harshly, glaring down at Scott through his glasses.

None of them could even bother responding to his insult, the only thing they’re focused on is the fact Scott managed to control his rage. Stiles and Fallon smile at each other.

“He did it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Detention.

Fallon should’ve assumed that this is where they were going to end up after Mr. Harris caught them outside. She just wished she brought something more entertaining to school today so she could occupy her mind while being stuck here. She has a chair pulled up at the end of Scott and Stiles’ table. The three of them sitting rather dejectedly even though they technically just succeeded in teaching Scott control.

The brunette girl sketches in her notebook, drawing the Beacon Hills woods from memory. Stiles watches her interestedly, leaning forward to look at her work. He tries not to move too far forward as her broken leg rests on his lap for some form of elevation.

“That's really good,” he compliments.

She smiles, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a scoff, like she’s stupid for even asking such a question. “Like I would frame that. Y’know, if I had the money to buy a frame… How about I hang it on my fridge?”

Fallon laughs softly, ripping the page out and handing it to him. “Do what makes you happy.”

He grins, carefully putting the drawing in his backpack. The two of them look at Scott who shifts around in his seat. He’s antsy to get out of here. After a moment, he finally speaks to Mr. Harris, “Excuse me, sir?” He gets their teacher’s attention. “Uh, I know it’s detention and all, but, uh… I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Despite Scott’s polite request, Mr. Harris just grins fakely at the boy, looking back down at the paper he is grading. Fallon shakes her head annoyed. She didn’t understand how someone who hates kids could choose a profession where they sit with them all day.

Scott tries to go back to working on his homework, but can’t stop himself from talking to his friends on the other side of him. “You knew I would heal,” he says, with an almost impressed tone of voice.

“Yep,” Stiles nods. “We both did.”

“So you did that to help me learn?”

“Yep,” he repeats, rubbing his hands together.

“…But partially to punish me.”

“Thought that one was obvious,” Fallon mutters, hitting her pen on the desk to a steady rhythm.

Scott sighs, looking at them sadly, “Guys, you’re my best friends,” he says, regret etched in his eyes. “And I can’t have you both being angry with me.”

Both her and Stiles pause for a moment. Fallon sucks in a deep breath, looking at Scott sincerely, “We’re not angry at you anymore.”

Stiles turns to him, “Look. You have something, Scott, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So, that means you don't have a choice anymore– it means you have to do something.”

Scott nods his head, really taking in Stiles’ words. “I know,” he agrees. “And I will.”

“Just next time a car comes barreling at me and Allison, try to give me a five second warning so I can at least try to save myself,” Fallon says lightheartedly.

“There won’t be a next time,” Scott shakes his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

Fallon smiles toothlessly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. Stiles places his on top of theirs, all of them coming to a truce. Mr. Harris watches from afar, his frozen heart slightly touched by the display. He rolls his eyes, “All right, all three of you– out of here,” he gestures towards the door with his head.

The three of them look at him with wide eyes, but nonetheless stand up and start collecting their stuff. For once the boys allow Fallon to carry her own backpack. She wings it over her shoulder and adjusts herself on her crutches before following after them.

“Miss Donovan,” Mr. Harris calls out. She internally screams, not wanting to speak to him more than she has to, especially after what her father said to him on parent-teacher conference night.

She turns, “Yes sir?”

“I hope this shows that I do not hate you, Mr. McCall, or Mr. Stilinski. I meant what I said. I see a potential in you that I… struggle to see within them. Or at least I did,” he concedes. “But if I keep witnessing displays like that,” he refers to their conversation, “then perhaps I can admit where I was wrong. They aren’t all bad.”

Fallon shuffles awkwardly, not knowing how to react to him being kind. “Thank you?” She says it more as a question than statement.

Mr. Harris nods, “And I hope your leg gets better. I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”

“Yeah…” she nods. “I’m all right though.”

“Well, have a good rest of your day,” he says, suddenly reverting back to his cold demeanor as he looks back down at the worksheets in front of him.

She sighs, heading back towards the door, “You too.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon didn’t even get a chance to get dropped off by Stiles before Scott called them, explaining that Derek showed up to the animal clinic and attacked Deaton. The older werewolf thinks that Scott’s boss may be the Alpha. Hearing that made the girl's blood run cold. She’s spoken to Deaton a couple of times and she never would have guessed him to be the murderous werewolf they’ve been looking for.

Scott requested them to come pick him up because he told Derek to meet them at the school. So Stiles and Fallon did a quick pit stop at his house to grab supplies they’ll need to break into the school and then they quickly go pick up their friend. When the arrive, Scott picks up Fallon, helping her out of the jeep.

They move to the trunk, Stiles glancing around worriedly, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott admits.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “But we’re still gonna do it…?” She asks incredulously.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott questions a bit harshly.

Stiles shrugs, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away…”

Scott gives him a deadpan look, “Just make sure we can get inside.”

The headlights from Derek’s Camaro practically blind Fallon as he pulls up. She glances down at her watch. Ten-thirty. She hopes her dad believed her when she said she’d be sleeping over at Stiles’. Noah and him are working the overnight shift so as long as they choose to believe her and Stiles, they should be okay.

“He’s here,” she mumbles to Scott and Stiles.

Scott’s the first one to approach Derek as he smoothly slides out of the driver’s seat. Fallon crutches behind Scott, peeking out from behind his shoulder to look at Derek. “Where’s my boss?” Scott demands darkly.

“He’s in the back,” Derek replies shortly, nodding to the back window of his car.

Fallon glances through the window seeing Deaton tied up and knocked out. She feels bad for the man, even if he is the Alpha, there is no way he's waking up without a creak in his neck. Stiles scoffs, “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” he comments sarcastically.

Derek shrugs, his suspect’s comfortability not a concern to him in the slightest. Stiles shakes his head in annoyance before waving at Scott to follow him towards the school. Fallon decided to stay outside as she didn’t feel like moving super far with her crutches if she didn’t have to. They tend to dig into her armpits when she walks around excessively. She removes them from under her arms and leans against the Camaro, figuring Derek wouldn’t mind.

“Wait–” Derek calls out, confused as to what they're doing. “Hey. What are you doing?”

Scott turns around, “You said I was linked with the Alpha– I’m gonna see if you’re right,” he replies before finishing his journey to the entrance of the school.

Fallon glances into the window and frowns when she looks at Deaton. She still can’t even fathom that he could be the Alpha. He’s so kind, gentle even. He takes care of animals, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway.

Derek eyes her for a moment before slowly inching closer to her. He points to her leg, “How are you feeling?” His voice was low, gruff—almost like he was forcing himself to ask.

She looks up at him with a shrug, “Okay, I guess. Just a little sore. It’s also really hard to scratch when I have an itch,” she admits. “Not that you needed to know that last part.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, hands buried in his pockets. “Friends can share those details, can’t they?” He lifts an eyebrow, leaning against the car alongside her.

Fallon smiles at him, “Yeah, I guess they can.”

“Have you been taking your pain medication?” He questions curiously.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Actually… I may have forgotten tonight,” she says thoughtfully. “I left my backpack at Stiles’ house. Haven’t exactly had a minute of downtime today to think about it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but she couldn’t help the slight edge of frustration that crept in. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, this...weak.

He glowers at her for a moment, “You better take it when you get back there,” he says strictly. “If you’re in pain, it’s only going to slow you down.”

She met his gaze, surprised at the concern lacing his words. It wasn’t like Derek to show he cared—at least, not openly. “I’m not planning on going anywhere fast, Hale.”

Derek huffed, almost like he was amused. Almost. “Good. Because if you do, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite herself. “Are you offering to catch me if I do?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes searching hers for a beat too long. “You wouldn’t need to be caught if you were more careful,” he said finally, his tone firm but lacking its usual bite.

Fallon let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really bad at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be comforting,” Derek replied, his eyes flicking back to the school. But his posture had softened just a fraction, his stance less rigid than before.

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the night surrounding them. Fallon shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on her leg. “So what exactly was your original plan when you were gonna pick up Scott?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, “Teach him control,” he answers.

“Okay, obviously,” she rolls her eyes. “But how?”

“Test him. See what he can handle. Try to help him find a way to ground himself,” he explains briefly. “And if he couldn’t figure it out…”

“Then you’d step in,” she finishes for him. She looks at him, “Would you hurt him?” She wonders softly. “Y’know… if he couldn’t do it.”

He glances at her again, his expression softening just a touch. “If he puts anyone else at risk, yes.”

She nods, appreciating his straightforwardness. It was something she’d come to value in Derek, even if he was rough around the edges. “I can handle myself, you know. A broken leg isn’t going to stop me.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her leg before meeting hers again. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she expected. Fallon felt her chest tighten, the weight of everything they’d been through pressing down on her. But instead of feeling stifled, she felt… understood.

“Thanks, Derek,” she says quietly, her voice sincere.

He gave a short nod, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before turning back to the school. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” he muttered, the gruffness back in his voice.

Fallon smiled to herself, leaning back against the car. “No promises.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere the wimpiest howl Fallon has ever heard echoes over the PA system. Her jaw drops as she fights off the urge to laugh. She couldn’t even think of what to classify that as. It sounded like a cat having gas pains.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derek winces as if listening to that was physically painful. Truthfully, it was. She normally tries to be an encouraging person, but that was awful. She’s pretty sure her ears would have bled if it had gone on any longer. She silently hopes that Stiles finds some way to inspire Scott to dig deep. Because at this rate, there’s no way the Alpha is coming.

When the second howl comes through, it actually makes the girl jump. This one is deep and powerful. It manages to cause the building to shake, making the doors vibrate with a loud jangle. A surge of fear fills Fallon’s veins as she realizes that this is it. There’s no way the Alpha could ignore that. She’ll have to face him again. Derek can sense the sudden shift in her demeanor. He can smell the chemo signals radiating off of her. Her face remains still, but her insides are twisting in ways they shouldn’t be.

“Hey,” Derek gets her attention. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he reassures.

She nods, not having the ability to come up with a more witty response. She tries to shake off the overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, but it continues to linger over her. Eventually Scott and Stiles make it out of the school, meeting a very pissed off Derek and a concerned Fallon. “I’m gonna kill both of you,” the elder of them threatens furiously. “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott tries to apologize genuinely, but anyone can see how proud of himself he is. “Sorry… I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah,” Stiles scoffs excitedly, “it was loud… And it was awesome…” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

Fallon can’t help but smirk, pushing her growing worries aside. “Gotta admit Scotty, that was impressive.” She stiffens when noticing Derek’s glare, “I mean– not impressive. Not impressive at all,” she clears her throat awkwardly.

Derek looks at her incredulously, “Shut up.”

Her lips form a tight-line. So much for the moment they just shared. Stiles narrows his eyes, “Don’t be such a sour-wolf,” he mocks, pulling Fallon closer to him and Scott. She stumbles slightly, trying to get ahold of her crutches.

“Could you be a bit gentler, please?” She scoffs.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks snippily, pointing to Derek’s car which is now open.

“What?” The man’s eyes widen as he turns around. He looks baffled as he sees the backseat is empty. The nervous feeling fills Fallon’s gut again. Deaton was knocked out cold. There’s no way he could just get up and walk out without at least one of them hearing him. “I didn’t do anything,” he tells them.

“He didn’t,” Fallon confirms. “We’ve been talking the whole time.”

However, nothing else can be said as hot blood spurts out of Derek’s mouth and onto Fallon’s face. She stumbles back in shock before screaming loudly. Derek is being lifted in the air, claws belonging to the Alpha ripping straight through his back. His green eyes are wide as he chokes on his own bodily fluids.

Fallon tries to tell herself to move, but her body won’t listen. Staring into the bright red eyes of the creature that invaded her space, who made her feel unsafe, rendered her paralyzed. She can’t even blink as she watches the Alpha chuck Derek across the parking lot into the wall of the school. His body hits the ground with a loud crash. She makes eye contact with the monster as Scott and Stiles pick her up, carrying her into the school. She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. Again, the expression it wears is almost mocking. Like it’s silently telling her she’s existing on borrowed time.

She’s only brought back to earth when the doors to the school slam shut, both of the boys setting her on the ground before holding the doors closed. Her eyes still look distant, disturbed. Scott and Stiles share a concerned look, not just for their situation but for their friend who is once again covered in Derek’s blood.

[emperordinozenmon]

X-ecuted

Dinozen’s send off to Jeewon since Cignature is disbanding

The sleek, black jet landed smoothly on the sprawling grounds of Xavier’s School, the engines winding down with a mechanical whir. Storm stepped onto the ramp first, her white hair catching the sunlight, followed closely by a stocky, broad-shouldered young man who carried himself with quiet intensity.

“Remember, Dragon,” Storm said, her voice calm yet firm. “This place is a sanctuary, but it’s also a challenge. You’ll meet others like you—different, powerful, and learning to belong. Give it a chance.”

Dragon grunted in acknowledgment, adjusting the straps of his duffel bag. “We’ll see how they feel about a guy who could melt a building by accident.”

Storm smirked. “I think you’ll find yourself fitting in more than you know.”

As they stepped into the main building, the hum of youthful energy and the chatter of students filled the air. Storm told her nephew to stay put as she had to talk to Logan really quickly. Dragon stood alone for a moment. Dragon took in the scene with curiosity and unease, his powerful frame causing more than a few heads to turn. He kept his eyes forward, focusing on his aunt's return, until—

“Hey, watch it!”

Dragon felt a small figure bounce off his chest. He looked down to see a girl with short, vibrant green-tipped hair rubbing her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping back.

“No problem,” she said, looking up at him with sharp eyes and a crooked grin. “Didn’t think I’d run into a wall inside the school.”

Dragon’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Name’s Dragon. And you are?”

“Asuka,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves. “Better known as Shatter. You must be new. I’d remember someone built like a tank walking around here. Well, at least as much as the 4 others built like tanks people we have.”

“Yeah, just got here,” Dragon replied. “Storm’s taking me to meet Beast. She just had to talk to Wolverine before.”

“Dr. McCoy? Good luck with that,” Asuka said, rolling her eyes playfully. “He’s great, but he loves to talk. Anyway, stick with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”

Before Dragon could respond, two girls approached from further down the hallway. The first had an aura of authority and warmth, her honey-brown eyes sweeping over the scene with quiet amusement. Her companion, a taller girl with an innocent smile, and more athletic build, trailed close behind.

“Oh, new faces,” the first girl said, her voice smooth and melodic. “Hi, I’m Jeewon.”

The second girl waved, her voice softer but no less friendly. “I’m Natty.”

Dragon felt his chest tighten as his eyes met Jeewon’s. There was something magnetic about her presence, the way her confidence seemed effortless yet not overbearing. Her gaze lingered on him, curious and knowing, and it took all of his self-control not to fidget under the weight of it.

“Dragon,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Jeewon’s lips curved into a smile. “Dragon. A strong name for someone who looks the part.” Her eyes flicked over his broad shoulders, and he could’ve sworn her expression softened, but her composure didn’t falter. “You settling in okay?”

“Trying to,” he replied. “Not sure how this place works yet.”

“Well, you’ll figure it out. And if you need help…” Jeewon stepped closer, her gaze never leaving his. “I’m around.”

Natty, meanwhile, had started chatting with Asuka. “So, what’s your mutation?” she asked, tilting her head.

“I break stuff,” Asuka said with a grin. “You?”

“Force fields,” Natty said shyly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m still learning how to use them.”

“That’s so cool!” Asuka said, leaning in with genuine excitement. “Maybe we could practice together sometime?”

Natty blushed, her smile widening. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Jeewon, noticing the exchange, gave Natty a teasing nudge. “Looks like you’ve made a friend already.”

Asuka shot her a mock glare. “Says the one making goo-goo eyes at Dragon.”

Dragon blinked, his face heating. “What?”

Jeewon, unfazed, gave Asuka a light shove. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just jealous I’m better at first impressions.”

“Better at everything,” Natty added with a giggle.

Before Dragon could decide whether to feel flattered or flustered, Storm reappeared at the end of the hallway.

“Dragon,” she called, her tone cutting through the playful banter. “Beast is waiting.”

Dragon glanced at Jeewon one last time, her calm smile somehow grounding him. “Guess I’ll see you around,” he said.

“You will,” Jeewon replied, her voice softer now, as if she were promising something.

With that, Dragon followed Storm down the corridor, his mind swirling with thoughts of fiery powers, strange new surroundings—and the girl whose gaze lingered far longer than it should have.

The pair reached the office, the door swinging open to reveal a room filled with shelves of books, glowing instruments, and a faint scent of antiseptic. A large, blue-furred figure turned from his conversation with a platinum-blonde woman as they entered.

“Ah, Ororo, wonderful to see you,” Beast said, his voice warm and deep. He turned his attention to Dragon, offering a wide smile. “And you must be Draigo. Welcome. My name is Hank McCoy.”

Dragon nodded politely. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Beast chuckled, waving a massive hand. “Oh, my stars, look at you—how formal! No need for that; you’re among peers here. Please, call me Hank. Or Beast, if you prefer.”

Dragon nodded again, filing the comment away. He quickly sized up Beast—intelligent, approachable, but likely to appreciate a certain level of respect. “Of course, Hank,” he said, his tone measured but kind.

Beast seemed satisfied and gestured to the woman beside him. “And this is Magik,” he said.

Dragon turned to the platinum-haired mutant as she stepped around Beast. Her sharp features and confident stance gave off an untouchable air, but her oversized Lorna Shore Pain Remains tour shirt hinted at something else entirely.

“You like Lorna Shore?” Dragon asked, his voice cutting through the formalities.

Magik’s eyes lit up, the guarded edge in her expression softening into surprise. “Oh, I love them,” she said, her tone suddenly animated. “Do I sense a fellow metalhead?”

Dragon nodded emphatically, a rare grin breaking through his usual reserve. “Big fan. Their riffs are insane, and their breakdowns…”

“Absolutely brutal,” Magik finished, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “You ever catch them live?”

“Not yet,” Dragon admitted, “but it’s on my list. You?”

“I saw them in Limbo,” Magik replied, her smirk playful. “Perks of being the queen of a hell dimension.”

Dragon raised an eyebrow but didn’t miss a beat. “Guess I’ll need a portal pass next time they tour.”

Magik laughed, a genuine, warm sound. She had been worried about connecting with the newcomer, but Dragon’s easy manner and shared interest melted through the initial awkwardness.

Before the conversation could deepen, Beast cleared his throat gently, stepping back into the moment. “Apologies for the interruption, but we should proceed. Dragon, we’ll be analyzing your X-gene today to better understand your mutation and how it manifests.”

Dragon gave a small nod, glancing at Magik. “We’ll pick this up later,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Magik grinned, crossing her arms. “Count on it.”

As Beast led Dragon to the examination area, Storm exchanged a quiet, knowing look with Magik. “He’s in good hands,” Storm said.

Magik smirked, her gaze lingering on the door. “He’s got potential. And good taste in music.”

Dragon and Beast walked into the lab, the sterile scent of metal and ozone filling the air. Machines hummed softly, their lights casting a faint glow over the rows of equipment. Beast moved with practiced ease, setting up a sleek, cylindrical device in the center of the room.

“So,” Beast began, his tone light, “Ororo tells me you’re quite the fire starter.”

Dragon caught the playful glint in the blue-furred scientist’s eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said, leaning into the joke.

Beast’s face lit up in delight. “Ah! A young man who appreciates my humor. A rare find indeed.”

Dragon grinned as he stepped closer to the machine, curiosity tugging at his thoughts. “What kind of scanner is that?” he asked, gesturing to the device. “Looks like it uses a mix of photonic and magnetic resonance imaging.”

Beast paused, raising an impressed eyebrow. “Well spotted. It’s a hybrid design, though I’ve enhanced it to better detect genetic and molecular anomalies. Not exactly standard equipment.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Dragon replied. “The calibration patterns on the outer ring aren’t something you’d see in commercial systems. Are those for fine-tuning the energy field density?”

Beast chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “You have a good eye, Dragon. Yes, precisely. Though I might suggest a more nuanced phrasing—the density adjustment is more about harmonizing the field to interact with the subject’s unique bioelectric signature.”

Dragon nodded, filing away the information. “Right, that makes sense. I probably would’ve missed the bioelectric part if I was designing it.”

“Well, that’s why it’s a team effort,” Beast said with an encouraging smile. “Now then, let’s see this remarkable X-gene of yours.”

Beast gestured for him to take a seat inside the cylindrical chamber, adjusting a few dials as he spoke.

“Try to stay still, and when you see a bright green light, you’ll be free to move.”

Dragon nodded and settled into the machine, its padded seat surprisingly comfortable. The soft whir of its engine grew louder, and the device rotated around him with a steady hum. As the machinery activated, Dragon was reminded of old dentist visits, the feeling of X-ray machines humming inches from his face.

The green light flashed suddenly, followed by a gentle beep signaling the scan’s completion.

“All done,” Beast announced, opening the chamber.

Dragon stepped out and followed him to another section of the lab, where a bank of monitors displayed complex data streams and glowing graphs. Beast examined the results with practiced focus, his eyes darting between screens.

“Well, Dragon is certainly the correct nickname for you,” Beast finally said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Oh? How so?” Dragon asked, leaning slightly to get a better view of the screens.

Beast gestured to the data displayed. “Since your X-gene awakened—let’s see—15 years, 3 months, 4 days, 5 hours, 2 minutes, and, ah… 58 seconds ago, it has been steadily generating a unique kinetic energy. This energy has several properties: it can create propulsion, ignite the very air around you, and grant you enhanced strength and resistance to kinetic trauma by absorbing and redirecting force. Quite the fiery combination.”

Dragon’s brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed the information. “Wait… So my power is kind of like Vibranium?”

Beast tilted his head thoughtfully. “Not quite, though the comparison is apt. Vibranium absorbs and redistributes energy, but your mutation does more than that. You not only absorb energy but also generate your own, allowing for nearly limitless potential—within reason, of course.”

Dragon smirked, but his curiosity was clearly piqued. “So, better Vibranium.”

Beast chuckled, his deep voice resonating warmly. “Precisely. For now, we’ll call this ability Destructo-Kinesis until we gather more data.”

Dragon hesitated before pointing at one of the monitors. “This pattern here… is that showing my energy output over time? Because it looks like there’s a spike every few hours. Could that be a natural build-up, like a battery needing to discharge?”

Beast adjusted his glasses and nodded. “Astute observation. Yes, that could explain the periodic fluctuations. Your mutation seems to have a self-regulating mechanism, but it might struggle when the energy exceeds a certain threshold. That might be what caused your… incident two weeks ago.”

Dragon crossed his arms, frowning slightly. “So, theoretically, if I trained myself to release smaller bursts of energy on a schedule, I might avoid another overload?”

“An excellent hypothesis,” Beast said, impressed. “Though I’d caution you to refine your control before testing that. Energy release is rarely as simple as flipping a switch.”

Dragon’s lips quirked into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I guess my last ‘experiment’ didn’t go so well.”

Beast gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Trial and error, my boy. It’s how we all learn. And speaking of trials—”

A voice from the doorway interrupted them. “Hey, Beast, got a second?”

They turned to see Asuka leaning casually against the doorframe, her trademark smirk in place. Dragon raised an eyebrow at her sudden appearance.

“Don’t let me interrupt the science,” she teased, stepping into the room. “Just came to see if the fire starter here made it through his first lab session in one piece.”

Dragon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a small grin. “Still here, shatterstar. You worried about me?”

“Pfft. Please.” Asuka grinned. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t boring Hank to death with your stoic routine. wait hold up reverse, what was that you called me?”

"Um Shatter Star,"

"ooh I like that. I am keeping that as my future X-men name." Asuka said.

Dragon smiled, and said, "you're welcome"

Asuka rolled her eyes in annoyance. "God why are you so boring," she said

Beast cleared his throat, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I assure you, Asuka, Dragon has been an excellent conversationalist. Far better than certain other students who interrupt my work.”

Asuka shot him an unrepentant smile. “Guilty as charged. Speaking of interruptions, Natty’s been looking for you,” she said, directing her words to Dragon. “Something about showing you the ‘fun’ side of the school.”

Dragon tilted his head. “Natty, huh?”

“She’s probably somewhere near the student lounge,” Asuka added. “If you’re lucky, you might catch her before she starts dragging random people into karaoke.”

Dragon exchanged a glance with Beast, who gave a small nod. “Go on,” Beast said. “I’ll finish analyzing the rest of this data. We can regroup later.”

“Thanks, Hank,” Dragon said, turning toward the door.

Asuka stepped aside to let him pass but fell into step beside him as they left the lab. “You know,” she said with a grin, “I think Natty might actually like you. Not sure why, though.”

Dragon smirked. “Guess I’m just likable.”

Asuka snorted. “We’ll see.”

The pair made their way down the hall, the conversation flowing easily between them. Asuka’s casual teasing kept things light, but her expression shifted ever so slightly when they reached the lounge. after that Asuka and Dragon split up

Asuka strolled through one of the quieter hallways of the school, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, just soaking in the strangeness of the day so far. Her mind wandered to the new guy, Dragon—interesting dude, but definitely intense. And then there was Natty.

Asuka caught herself smiling at the thought of the atheletic, bubbly girl with the force fields. “Cute,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she rounded a corner.

And there she was. Natty stood at a locker, struggling to fit a stack of books into a bag that seemed far too small for the job. Asuka paused for a second, taking in the sight before casually strolling up behind her.

“Need a hand, Force Field?” Asuka asked, leaning against the lockers with an easy smirk.

Natty startled slightly, turning to face her. “Oh! Hi, Asuka.” She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I think my bag’s rebelling against me.”

“Looks like it,” Asuka said, reaching out to take the books. “Let me see.”

Natty hesitated for a moment before handing them over. “Thanks. I swear, it’s like the harder I push, the more this thing resists.”

Asuka raised an eyebrow as she deftly rearranged the contents of the bag. “You’d think someone who can create force fields would have no problem with a stubborn zipper.”

Natty giggled, her cheeks tinged pink. “I can contain explosions, not my own poor packing decisions.”

“There.” Asuka zipped the bag with a flourish and handed it back to her. “Problem solved.”

“Wow, you’re good at this,” Natty said, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Do you moonlight as a professional organizer?”

Asuka chuckled. “Nah, just a quick learner. Besides, I couldn’t let you struggle. You’d probably try to force-field the books into submission, and then we’d all be in trouble.”

Natty’s laugh rang out, light and sweet. “Hey, I’m not that reckless.”

“No? Guess I’ll have to stick around to find out,” Asuka said, her smirk softening into a playful grin.

Natty tilted her head, her smile turning shy. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Oh yeah?” Asuka leaned closer, her voice dropping slightly. “What’d you expect?”

“Someone tougher, maybe scarier,” Natty admitted, meeting her gaze. “But you’re… different.”

“I can be scary,” Asuka teased, crossing her arms. “But not with you. You’ve got that whole innocent charm thing going on. Kinda hard to be intimidating when you’re smiling like that.”

Natty’s blush deepened, and she glanced down at her shoes before looking back up. “Well, maybe I like the not-so-scary version of you.”

Asuka chuckled, feeling her own cheeks warm. “Good to know.” She straightened, taking a step back but still holding Natty’s gaze. “Guess I’ll see you around, force field.”

“You better,” Natty replied, her voice soft but firm.

Asuka gave her a wink before turning on her heel, and heading off down the hallway with a noticeable spring in her step.

Natty watched her go, a smile lingering on her lips.

A few days later Dragon was heading to his first training mission with Magik. He was excited as she had been hyping up all she was gonna teach him.

The corridors of Xavier’s School were bustling with the quiet hum of activity as students and teachers went about their day. Dragon was making his way to the training center, the sound of his boots echoing against the tiled floor. He was lost in thought, mulling over Beast’s words about his “Destructo-Kinesis” and wondering how it would hold up in a real training session.

As he rounded a corner, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he nearly collided with someone.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, reflexively reaching out to steady the person.

“Sorry about that!” came a cheerful, slightly breathless voice.

Dragon blinked and found himself face-to-face with Jeewon. Her warm brown eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked up at him, her small hands resting lightly on his arms where he’d caught her.

“No worries,” Dragon said, releasing her as she stepped back. He tried not to stare, but there was something about her—the confidence in her stance, the effortless way she carried herself—that made it hard to look away.

“You’re Dragon, right? Storm’s nephew?” Jeewon asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And you’re Jeewon… from Cignature, right?”

Her smile widened. “Guilty. Though here, I’m just another mutant trying to figure out her powers.”

Dragon raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty confident for someone who’s ‘just trying to figure things out.’”

Jeewon laughed softly, the sound melodic and easy. “Fake it till you make it, right? Speaking of, where are you headed?”

“Training,” Dragon said, adjusting his posture slightly. “Trying to figure out what I can do without… you know, blowing up.”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Blowing up? That sounds dramatic.”

“I wish I was being only dramatic, but It’s as dramatic as it sounds,” he admitted with a chuckle. “My mutation lets me generate and absorb energy. But if I take in too much without releasing it, things… get messy.”

“Messy how?” she asked, her tone equal parts teasing and intrigued.

“Let’s just say a field trip to the Grand Canyon ended with me making a brand-new crater,” Dragon said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jeewon’s laugh bubbled up again, but there was no trace of judgment in it—only genuine amusement. “That’s definitely a story. Sounds like you’ve got the power of a superhero and the control of a toddler.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Dragon said, grinning. “What about you? What’s your power?”

Jeewon hesitated for a moment before answering. “I manipulate soundwaves and fire. It’s not super flashy, but it can be pretty useful.”

Dragon’s interest piqued. “Soundwaves and fire, huh? Like, you can blast people with a scream or something?”

She nodded. “Something like that. I can amplify my voice to shatter objects or disorient people and also create roar flames that do various things. It’s more about precision than raw power, though. I’m still figuring out the limits.”

“Sounds versatile,” Dragon said, his tone genuinely impressed. “And way more controlled than what I’ve got going on.”

Jeewon gave him a playful nudge on the arm. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got potential—it just needs a little refining.”

Dragon chuckled, feeling a flicker of warmth at her words. “Thanks. I guess I could use someone like you to keep me in line.”

She arched an eyebrow, her smile turning slightly mischievous. “Oh, I don’t know. I might be more trouble than you can handle.”

He laughed a low and easy sound that surprised even him. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

For a moment, they just stood there, an unspoken connection sparking between them. The playful banter felt natural, but beneath it was a sense of mutual respect—and maybe something more.

“Well,” Jeewon said, breaking the silence but keeping her tone light, “I’d better let you get to training before Storm comes looking for you. She’s not one to mess with.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dragon replied, smirking.

Jeewon gave him a small wave as she started to walk away, her voice carrying over her shoulder. “Good luck, Dragon. Don’t blow up the school!”

“No promises,” he called after her, grinning as he watched her disappear down the hall.

As Dragon resumed his walk to the training center, a small smile tugged at his lips. Something about Jeewon’s presence—her confidence, her humor, the way she didn’t treat him like a walking disaster—had left an impression.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until a cheerful, teasing voice broke through his reverie.

“Looks like someone has a little crush,” Magik said, her tone laced with mischief.

Dragon spun around, his face immediately turning a shade lighter. “What? No! I mean—” He stumbled over his words, his hands waving in protest as if to bat away the very suggestion.

Magik grinned, thoroughly enjoying his flustered state. “Relax, rookie. I’m not judging.” She crossed her arms, her expression softening but retaining that mischievous glint. “In fact, I think you two would work surprisingly well together. There’s something complementary about your energies.”

Dragon opened his mouth to protest further, but Magik cut him off with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you two get plenty of time to figure that out. Maybe we’ll schedule a joint training session—Jeewon, Dazzler, you, and me. It’ll be fun.”

Dragon groaned internally, already imagining the teasing that would come from such a session. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I absolutely do,” she shot back, her grin widening.

Deciding it was safer to change the subject, Dragon asked, “So, what kind of simulation are we running today?”

“Simulation?” Magik scoffed as though he’d suggested something ridiculous. “We’re sparring in Limbo. I don’t want my boyfriend mad at me for breaking the Danger Room again.”

Dragon paused mid-step, his brain processing her words. “Wait… your boyfriend is Forge?”

Magik blinked, momentarily thrown off. “How did you know that?”

“I met him yesterday,” Dragon replied with a shrug, “and he was talking about how Professor X asked him to set up the Danger Room for a new mutant with ‘volcanic abilities.’ He told Xavier no because, and I quote, ‘I have a concert date with my super-hot, scary metalhead girlfriend.’”

For a moment, Magik just stared at him, and then she burst out laughing—a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed down the hallway. “Okay, I’m impressed. You actually listened to Forge’s rambling and put two and two together. Most people tune him out after thirty seconds.”

Dragon grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it’s more of a ‘broken clock is right twice a day’ thing. I only ended up talking to him because he had a Gundam figure on his desk.”

Magik’s expression shifted to one of genuine surprise. “Wait a second—you’re the IBO fan Danny was talking about during our date?”

Dragon nodded, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, I might’ve geeked out about Iron-Blooded Orphans a little.”

Magik’s eyes widened further, and her grin turned into something more genuine. “Okay, now I really need to make sure you’ve got control over your powers. Can’t have you blowing up when you’re clearly one of the good ones.”

“Good ones?” Dragon repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Magik said, her tone more earnest now. “Smart enough to keep up with Forge, cool enough to love Lorna Shore, and geeky enough to bond over Gundam. You’re shaping up to be a pretty solid protege.”

Dragon couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thanks… I think.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, rookie,” Magik teased, though her voice was warm. “Come on, let’s get to Limbo before I change my mind and actually throw you into a simulation.”

As they walked side by side, Dragon felt a sense of ease settle over him. Magik’s teasing and the way she treated him with a mix of challenge and camaraderie reminded him of the older sister he never had. It was clear she was rooting for him, even if she had a funny way of showing it.

Magik Opened one of her "stepping stones" and pushed Dragon through it. Dragon stumbled into Limbo with his mentor. She led him to an area she dubbed the training center

The dimly lit training chamber hummed with latent energy. Dragon stood opposite Magik, tension radiating from his muscular frame as he awaited her first move. Magik twirled her Soulsword lazily, her sharp blue eyes fixed on him like a hawk sizing up its prey.

“All right, rookie,” she said, grinning. “This is going to hurt. But it’ll hurt less if you move faster.”

Dragon smirked nervously, raising his fists. “That’s… comforting.”

Magik lunged without warning, her sword gleaming with eldritch fire. Dragon barely managed to sidestep, summoning a kinetic shield to block her follow-up strike. The force of the impact sent him stumbling back, his boots skidding across the floor.

“Not bad,” Magik remarked. “But not good enough.”

She pressed the attack, forcing Dragon to rely on his reflexes and raw strength. Despite his determination, it was clear he was struggling to keep up. After a particularly well-placed feint, Magik disarmed him, knocking him to the ground with the flat of her blade.

“You’re holding back,” she said, looking down at him.

Dragon scowled, his pride stinging more than his bruised shoulder. “I’m not.”

Magik extended a hand, helping him to his feet. “Yes, you are. I’ve seen you fight harder when you’re pissed off. What’s stopping you now?”

He hesitated, glancing away. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Her gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “You won’t hurt me. I can take care of myself. What are you terrified of, Dragon?”

The question hung in the air like a weight. Dragon crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “I’m not afraid.”

Magik tilted her head, studying him. “Then why do you keep pulling your punches? Who taught you that being strong was something to be ashamed of?”

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer. But then, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he sat down on the edge of the sparring mat.

“My family,” he admitted quietly.

Magik sheathed her sword and joined him on the mat, sitting cross-legged. “What happened?”

Dragon hesitated, his hands clenching into fists. “They were… all mutants. Every single one of them. Telepaths. My dad even had a secondary mutation—he could see three years into the future whenever he wanted. They thought I didn’t have powers, though. Just some ‘ordinary kid’ in a family full of prodigies.”

“And then?” Magik prompted gently.

“And then my powers finally showed up,” he said, his voice bitter. “I was thirteen. Got into a fight at school—some bully tried to humiliate me in front of everyone. I lashed out, and my powers… they weren’t pretty. I wasn’t pretty. My family freaked out.”

Magik frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They didn’t want me around anymore,” Dragon said, his voice cracking slightly. “Said they couldn’t deal with a ‘violent’ mutant in the house. Like I was some kind of ticking time bomb. They didn’t even try to understand me—they just wanted me gone.”

Magik’s expression darkened. “Let me guess—they used their telepathy to make you doubt yourself. Turned your own thoughts against you.”

Dragon nodded, his face haunted. “It wasn’t just the arguments. They’d know what I was going to say before I even said it. Every excuse, every plea, every moment of anger—they shut it down before I could even get the words out.”

Magik sat in silence for a moment, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword. “That’s not family. That’s cruelty.”

Dragon looked away, ashamed. “Sometimes I think they were right. Maybe I am dangerous.”

“Bullshit,” Magik said sharply, making him look up in surprise. “You’re not dangerous because you’re strong. You’re dangerous because they taught you to hate yourself for it.”

He blinked, her words hitting harder than any blow.

Magik softened her tone, leaning closer. “Listen to me, Dragon. You’re standing at a crossroads. You can let their lies turn you into someone bitter and angry—someone like Magneto. Or you can prove them wrong by becoming better than they ever were.”

He stared at her, her words sinking in. “How do I do that?”

Magik smirked, standing up and offering him a hand. “By training with me until you can kick my ass.”

Despite himself, Dragon chuckled, taking her hand. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Scene: Storm and Magik

While the students studied, Magik found Storm in the faculty lounge, sipping tea by the window.

“Got a minute?” Magik asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Storm nodded, setting her cup down. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about Dragon,” Magik said, crossing her arms. “I was pushing him pretty hard during training today, and… I learned some things.”

Storm raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Magik hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “His family. They were all telepaths, right?”

Storm nodded grimly. “Yes. I believe his father was particularly gifted.”

Magik frowned. “They used their powers against him, didn’t they? To manipulate him, shut him down before he could stand up for himself?”

Storm sighed, her expression pained. “Unfortunately, yes. His family saw his powers as an embarrassment, something to be feared rather than nurtured. They didn’t understand him, so they chose to silence him instead. It’s no wonder he struggles with trust and control.”

Magik’s jaw tightened. “He’s on the edge, Ororo. I can see it. If we don’t guide him the right way, he could end up going down a dark path.”

Storm nodded, her voice firm. “Then we’ll guide him. Together. Dragon has the potential to be great, but he’ll need all the support we can give him to overcome his past.”

Magik’s gaze softened. “He’s lucky to have you as a mentor.”

Storm smiled faintly. “And he’s lucky to have you as well, Illyana. You understand him in ways few others could.”

Magik smirked. “I just hope he doesn’t break my sword when he finally beats me.” Study

Later, Dragon joined Jeewon, Natty, and Asuka in the library. The three were bent over a table, working through stacks of books and notes. Jeewon greeted him with a warm smile as he sat down, the tension from earlier slowly melting away in her presence.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of Xavier’s library, casting warm golden streaks across the room. At one of the larger tables, Jeewon sat with her notes neatly spread out in front of her, her pen gliding effortlessly across the page. Across from her, Dragon was hunched over, furrowing his brow at the math problem in his workbook like it was his arch-nemesis.

At the far end of the table, Natty and Asuka were nestled closer together, their heads nearly touching as they shared a textbook.

“Okay, so if the formula is like this,” Natty said, pointing to a line on the page, “then the answer should be…”

“Eighteen?” Asuka ventured, glancing at her with hopeful eyes.

Natty grinned, her dimple making a brief appearance. “Exactly. See, I told you you’re better at this than you think.”

Asuka blushed slightly, her hand brushing against Natty’s as she turned the page. Jeewon, from her spot at the table, caught the moment out of the corner of her eye. She smiled to herself but didn’t comment, instead pretending to adjust her notes.

“Ugh, this doesn’t make sense!” Dragon groaned, breaking the relative quiet. He shoved his workbook aside dramatically, his frustration palpable.

Jeewon chuckled softly, looking up at him. “Need some help?”

Dragon hesitated, his pride battling with the need for assistance. Eventually, he nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure this equation was designed to make me feel dumb.”

Jeewon slid her chair closer to his, their shoulders almost brushing as she leaned over to look at his workbook. “Alright, show me what you’ve got so far.”

Dragon quickly forgot his frustration as Jeewon’s presence filled his senses. He focused on the math problem—at least, he tried to. Every time Jeewon pointed something out, her hand moving gracefully across the page, Dragon found himself more focused on her than the numbers.

Across the table, Natty noticed Dragon’s stolen glances and Jeewon’s patient, encouraging tone. She smirked knowingly, nudging Asuka gently.

“What?” Asuka whispered, looking confused.

Natty leaned in closer, her voice low. “Dragon’s totally into her.”

Asuka blinked, glancing over at the pair. “Really? I mean… they do look kind of close.”

“They’re cute together,” Natty whispered back, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Then, with a sly grin, she added, “Kind of like us.”

Asuka’s cheeks turned a soft pink, and she looked down at the textbook, suddenly very interested in the next problem. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered.

“Am I?” Natty teased, her voice playful. She let the subject drop, though, focusing back on the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Jeewon had caught the exchange between Natty and Asuka. She noticed the way Natty’s eyes lingered on Asuka a little longer than necessary, the way Asuka seemed flustered but secretly pleased by the attention. Jeewon smiled softly, recognizing the familiar signs of something new and sweet blooming between them.

“You’re doing great, Dragon,” Jeewon said, snapping him back to the task at hand.

Dragon glanced at her, his expression softening. “Thanks. You make it look so easy.”

“That’s what practice is for,” Jeewon replied warmly, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment that felt longer than it should have.

Natty, watching the scene unfold, bit back a laugh. She wasn’t sure who was more obvious—Dragon with his subtle admiration or Jeewon with the gentle way she encouraged him.

“So,” Natty said suddenly, breaking the moment, “when’s the next study session? This has been way more fun than I expected.”

Jeewon glanced over at her with a knowing smile. “Whenever you two want. You’ve been working really hard.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Asuka, whose blush deepened under the praise.

Dragon leaned back in his chair, grinning at Natty. “Yeah, it’s been fun—frustrating math problems aside. I could do this again.”

Natty gave him a sly look. “Oh, I bet you could.”

Dragon frowned slightly, sensing there was a deeper meaning to her words, but Jeewon’s laugh distracted him.

“Alright,” Jeewon said, standing and stretching. “Let’s wrap up for today. Same time next week?”

Everyone nodded, and as they packed up their things, Natty and Asuka fell into step together, their conversation already picking up where it had left off.

Jeewon lingered for a moment, walking alongside Dragon. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her smile soft. “You’re a quick learner, you know. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Thanks,” Dragon said, his voice quieter than usual. He wanted to say more, but the words didn’t come.

Natty glanced back at them as she walked away with Asuka, her grin widening. “They’re so obvious,” she whispered to Asuka, who only giggled in response. The first Mission

Jeewon, Dragon, Asuka and Natty were happy to be assigned their first mission. A rescue mission on the recently attacked Genosha.

The air over Genosha was heavy with ash and despair. The once-thriving mutant refuge now lay in ruins, buildings reduced to jagged skeletons, and the ground scarred with the blackened remains of Sentinel attacks. Smoke curled into the sky, and the faint sound of survivors calling out for help carried on the wind.

Dragon, Jeewon, Natty, and Asuka stood at the edge of the destruction, surveying the devastation with grim expressions. They had been sent to assist in the recovery effort—rescuing survivors, stabilizing structures, and helping the injured. For some, this was their first mission.

“Okay, team,” Jeewon said, her voice steady despite the grim scene before them. “We split into pairs. Dragon, you’re with me. Asuka, Natty, you two cover the eastern quadrant. Look for survivors first—no heroics. If you spot something you can’t handle, call for backup.”

“Got it,” Natty said, glancing at Asuka. Her usually carefree demeanor was subdued, her brows furrowed with worry.

Asuka gave a small nod, her lips pressed into a thin line. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against Natty’s wrist—a quiet reassurance. Natty glanced down at the touch and managed a faint smile before the two set off toward the smoldering wreckage.

Scene: Eastern Quadrant

The rubble-strewn streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional groan of unstable debris shifting in the wind. Natty and Asuka worked in quiet synchronicity, clearing paths and calling out for survivors.

“Over here,” Natty said, spotting movement beneath a collapsed wall. Together, they shifted the debris to uncover a young mutant boy clutching a makeshift toy carved from wood. His eyes were wide with fear, his small body trembling.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Asuka said softly, kneeling beside him. Her voice was calm and steady, like the rhythm of waves on a distant shore. “We’re here to help.”

The boy hesitated, clutching the toy tighter.

Natty crouched beside Asuka, her warm smile cutting through the tension. “She’s right. We’ve got you. Can you tell us your name?”

“Luca,” the boy whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Hi, Luca,” Natty said. “I’m Natty, and this is Asuka. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

The boy nodded hesitantly, allowing Asuka to lift him gently into her arms. She cradled him as though he were made of glass, her typically reserved expression softening into something tender.

“You’re safe now,” she murmured.

Natty watched the scene unfold, her chest tightening. Asuka’s gentle care for the boy was a side of her Natty hadn’t seen before, and it struck her deeply. Without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on Asuka’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Asuka glanced up, her dark eyes meeting Natty’s. For a moment, the chaos around them faded, leaving only the quiet understanding between them.

“You’re good at this,” Natty said softly.

Asuka’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “So are you.”

Scene: The Mission’s End

By the time they regrouped with Jeewon and Dragon, the sun was beginning to set, casting an amber glow over the ravaged landscape. The team had rescued dozens of survivors, but the weight of the loss was still palpable.

Dragon looked exhausted, his hands covered in soot, but there was a quiet determination in his eyes. Jeewon stood beside him, her presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos.

“How’d it go?” Jeewon asked as Natty and Asuka approached.

“We found a few survivors,” Asuka said, her voice measured. “They’re being escorted to the evacuation zone now.”

Jeewon nodded, her gaze lingering on the two. There was a closeness between them that hadn’t been there before—a quiet understanding forged in the fire of their shared experience.

As the team began making their way back to the extraction point, Natty fell into step beside Asuka, their shoulders brushing. For a moment, neither said anything, content to walk in silence.

Finally, Natty spoke, her voice low enough that only Asuka could hear. “Hey.”

Asuka glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You did good today,” Natty said. “I mean it. You’re… amazing.”

Asuka’s expression softened, and she looked away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “So are you,” she replied quietly.

Natty grinned, her usual playful energy returning. “I know.”

Despite the destruction around them, a small laugh escaped Asuka, and the sound was like a spark of light in the darkness.

Behind them, Jeewon exchanged a knowing glance with Dragon.

“Looks like they’re getting close,” she said softly.

Dragon nodded, watching the pair with a faint smile. “Yeah. Good for them.”

Jeewon turned her attention to him, studying his expression. “And what about us?”

Dragon froze, caught off guard by the question. But before he could stammer out a reply, Jeewon smiled and started walking ahead, leaving him to trail after her, his heart pounding in his chest.

The team was making their way toward the jet, the promise of rest after a harrowing day driving them forward. The sun hung low, painting the ruins of Genosha in shades of orange and crimson. Dragon walked beside Jeewon, their conversation punctuated by the soft crunch of rubble underfoot, while Natty and Asuka trailed behind, exchanging quiet words and occasional smiles.

Just as the jet came into view, the ground trembled beneath their feet. A deep, mechanical roar echoed through the air, and from the wreckage of a destroyed building, a sentinel rose, its towering frame illuminated by the fading sunlight.

“Look out!” Jeewon shouted, instinctively moving in front of the group. Her training kicked in as she raised her hands, preparing to summon her powers, but the sentinel’s targeting systems locked onto her instantly.

“Mutant identified,” the sentinel’s monotone voice boomed. “Threat level: Omega. Neutralizing target.”

A beam of energy shot from its chest, hurtling straight toward Jeewon.

Before she could react, Dragon was there. He moved faster than she’d ever seen, positioning himself between her and the blast. With a roar of defiance, he threw up his hands, and a shimmering kinetic shield erupted around him, absorbing the energy.

The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, forcing everyone to stagger back. Natty grabbed Asuka to steady her, their expressions a mix of shock and fear.

“Dragon!” Jeewon called, her voice laced with worry.

He didn’t respond. The shield held firm, crackling with raw energy as the beam subsided. When Dragon turned to face her, Jeewon’s breath caught. His eyes were no longer the soft brown she’d grown accustomed to. His sclera had turned pitch black, and his irises burned with a vivid, raging red—a transformation both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

“Stay behind me,” Dragon growled, his voice lower, almost guttural.

The sentinel advanced, its heavy footfalls shaking the earth. More shadows loomed on the horizon—two, three, then five additional sentinels rising from the ruins, drawn by the commotion.

Dragon didn’t hesitate. He launched himself into the air, propelled by a burst of kinetic energy. He also finally managed to summon his soulspear and fight the sentinels. His movements were feral, each strike precise and devastating.

The first sentinel didn’t stand a chance. Dragon’s punch shattered its chest-plate, sending shards of metal flying as it collapsed into a heap. He didn’t stop. Turning with inhuman speed, he tore through the next, his energy-imbued fists ripping its limbs apart before driving a kinetic blast into its core, obliterating it.

The remaining sentinels converged, firing beams of energy and missiles in a coordinated assault. Dragon roared, the sound echoing across the battlefield, and a massive shockwave of red-tinged kinetic energy erupted from him, disintegrating the projectiles mid-air.

Jeewon watched in stunned silence, her heart pounding. She had seen Dragon in combat before, but this was different. This was raw, unbridled rage—a primal force that seemed to consume him.

“Dragon, stop!” she shouted, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

By the time the last sentinel fell, its head sliced clean off and its core crushed under Dragon’s heel, the island was silent. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of scorched metal.

Dragon stood amidst the wreckage, his shoulders heaving with every breath. His hands were clenched into fists, still crackling with residual energy. Slowly, his glowing red eyes shifted, landing on Jeewon.

Jeewon approached cautiously, her heart still racing. The others hung back, unsure of what to do.

“Dragon,” she said softly, her voice trembling but steady.

He blinked, and for a moment, the red in his eyes flickered before returning to their usual brown. His shoulders slumped, and the tension in his body seemed to drain away.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” His voice was barely a whisper.

“It’s okay,” Jeewon said, stepping closer. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “You saved us. You saved me.”

Dragon looked down at her hand, then into her eyes. For a moment, the world around them faded, and all he could see was her—the trust in her gaze, the warmth of her touch.

Behind them, Natty and Asuka exchanged a glance.

“Remind me never to piss him off,” Natty muttered, trying to lighten the tension.

Asuka smirked faintly, but her eyes were still on Dragon, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t think it’s about anger. It’s about her.”

Jeewon turned back to the group, her usual composure returning. “Let’s get to the jet. We still have a long way to go.”

As they began to move, Dragon lingered for a moment, staring at the wreckage he had created. His hands flexed unconsciously, the memory of his outburst still fresh in his mind.

Jeewon slowed her pace, waiting for him. When he finally walked beside her, she spoke quietly.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” she said.

Dragon glanced at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and uncertainty.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

Jeewon didn’t press him further. She simply stayed by his side, her presence a quiet reassurance as they headed toward the jet, leaving the ruins of Genosha—and the revelation of Dragon’s power—behind.

The debriefing room was quiet save for the hum of the holographic display. Jeewon stood in front of Storm and Magik, recounting the events of their mission. Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of tension as she described the Sentinel ambush.

“…and that’s when Dragon intervened,” Jeewon said, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “He shielded me from the blast and then… well, he destroyed the rest of them.”

Storm nodded, her face calm but her piercing gaze betraying how deeply she was processing the account. Magik leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as she listened.

“When you say ‘destroyed,’” Magik interjected, her tone even, “do you mean efficiently, or are we talking scorched-earth chaos?”

Jeewon hesitated. “More the latter. It was… intense. His powers—it was like something inside him just snapped. His eyes changed, and the sheer force of his energy… I’ve never seen him so focused so angry.”

Magik shot a knowing look at Storm, who gave a subtle nod.

“I see,” Storm said. “And how was Dragon afterward?”

Jeewon hesitated again, her mind replaying the image of Dragon standing amidst the wreckage, his shoulders heavy with guilt. “He was shaken. I think he scared himself more than anyone else.”

Before Storm could respond, the air in the room shifted. A faint, almost imperceptible hum grew louder, and the temperature seemed to drop. Magik straightened, her hand instinctively reaching for her Soulsword.

The doors slid open, and Magneto entered.

His presence was magnetic—literally and figuratively. Dressed in his iconic crimson and violet, Magneto exuded authority and power. The room seemed smaller with him in it, and the air crackled faintly as his cape brushed the floor.

“Ororo. Illyana. And you must be Jeewon,” Magneto said, his deep voice carrying a mix of courtesy and command as he inclined his head toward each of them.

Jeewon stiffened, caught off guard. “Yes, sir.”

Magneto turned to Storm, his gaze intense. “I’m here for the boy—Dragon. I saw his performance on Genosha. Raw power, unbridled potential. He needs guidance, a mentor who understands what it means to channel such rage.”

Magik’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward slightly. “Guidance like yours?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

Magneto smiled faintly, unbothered by her tone. “I can offer him what you cannot. A place among those who won’t fear him. Who won’t suppress what he is. Dragon is more than a mutant—he is a force, one that could shape the future of our kind.”

Storm stepped forward, her presence as commanding as Magneto’s. “Dragon is under my care, Erik, and will remain so until further notice. I appreciate your concern, but his path is not yours to dictate.”

There was a tense silence. Magneto studied Storm for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding. “As you wish. But understand this, Ororo—when the boy is ready, he will seek me out. He will need what only I can provide.”

He turned to leave but paused, casting one last glance at Jeewon. “Take care of him,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding. Then, with a sweep of his cape, he was gone.

The room was quiet again, but the tension lingered. Jeewon’s heart was still racing, though not entirely because of Magneto. She replayed his words in her mind, particularly the way he had spoken about Dragon.

Magik broke the silence, her voice dry. “Well, that was fun. Who wants to bet he’s got another grand scheme cooking up?”

Storm ignored her, turning to Jeewon. “You did well in your report. Thank you, Jeewon. You’re dismissed.”

Jeewon nodded and left the room, her thoughts spinning. As she walked down the corridor, she couldn’t shake the jealousy that had flared up when Magneto mentioned Dragon. The idea of him leaving—of him being with someone else, even in a mentorship capacity—had made her chest tighten.

Was it because she cared about him as a teammate? A friend?

Or was it something more?

By the time she reached the common area, she had no clear answers, only the undeniable realization that Dragon meant more to her than she had been willing to admit. The mansion was unusually lively that day, with Dragon’s family making an unannounced visit. While Dragon had vanished to avoid the inevitable confrontation, Jeewon found herself wandering the halls after training, heading to the kitchen for a post-session snack. She turned a corner and nearly collided with a group of unfamiliar but impeccably dressed people.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Jeewon said, stepping back and bowing slightly out of reflex.

“No need to apologize,” said a tall man with graying hair and a sharp, commanding air. His piercing blue eyes met hers, and he smiled warmly. “You must be one of Dragon’s teammates.”

“I am,” Jeewon replied with a polite smile. “I’m Jeewon.”

“Jeewon,” the man repeated, his tone pleasant as he extended a hand. “I’m Draigo SR. Draigo/'s father. This is my wife, Evelyn, and our daughter, Dandelion.”

Evelyn, a refined woman with striking features, gave Jeewon a kind smile, and Charlotte, a younger version of her father, offered a small wave. she noticed that while Dragon shared features with them their difference in presentation was night and day. Dragon always had this air of approachability to him that his family lacked. she saw sparks of it in his mother.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Jeewon said, shaking Benjamin’s hand.

“And you as well,” Evelyn said. “We were just hoping to see DJ. Have you seen him?”

Jeewon hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I think he’s taking some time to himself. He’s… been busy.”

“Understandable,” Draigo SR said smoothly, his tone dripping with understanding. “He’s always been the type to need space. A thoughtful boy.”

Jeewon nodded, relieved by their apparent kindness. “He really is. He’s one of the hardest workers on the team.”

Evelyn chuckled lightly. “That sounds like him. But tell us, Jeewon—what is it you do here? What’s your role on the team?”

Jeewon smiled proudly. “I’m a field leader in training. I specialize in adaptive combat and power coordination. It’s my job to make sure the team works well together.”

Dandelion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A leader in training? Impressive. And how do you find working with Dragon?”

“He’s incredible,” Jeewon said without hesitation. “He’s got this natural talent for protecting people, and his powers are amazing. He just needs to believe in himself more.”

The family exchanged a quick glance, their smiles still intact. Jeewon felt a faint pressure in her mind, but it was gone so quickly that she barely noticed.

Evelyn’s smile faltered ever so slightly, and Draigo’s SR previously warm demeanor grew noticeably cooler. “Amazing powers, you say?” Benjamin asked, his tone now carrying a hint of skepticism.

Jeewon nodded, oblivious to the change. “Yes. His kinetic shields are incredible, and his ability to absorb and redirect energy saved us on our last mission. He’s really stepped up.”

“Saved you?” Evelyn said, her voice quieter now, almost distant. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well…” Jeewon hesitated, suddenly feeling like she was being tested. “We were ambushed by Sentinels. Dragon shielded me and then neutralized the rest of them.”

Dandelion’s expression grew icy. “Neutralized them? Or destroyed them?”

Jeewon frowned slightly at the question but answered honestly. “He destroyed them. It was intense, but he kept us safe.”

Draigo’s gaze hardened, and Evelyn turned her attention elsewhere, her interest in the conversation clearly fading. “I see,” Draigo said curtly. “How very… impressive.”

The warmth they had shown her earlier had evaporated entirely. Jeewon shifted uncomfortably, sensing their growing disapproval but not understanding its cause.

“Is something wrong?” she asked cautiously.

Evelyn smiled thinly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not at all, dear. It’s just… fascinating to see the kind of company Dragon keeps these days.”

Jeewon’s stomach twisted at the barely veiled insult. “Excuse me?”

Draigo Sr. cut in before she could say more. “You’ll have to forgive us. We’re just protective of our son. It’s clear you and your team have… significant influence on him.”

“We do our best to support him,” Jeewon said, her voice firm. “Dragon is an important part of this team. We’re like a family.”

“Family,” Evelyn repeated softly, her tone almost mocking. “Interesting choice of words.”

Dandelion glanced at her parents and then back at Jeewon, her expression unreadable. “It was nice meeting you,” she said abruptly before turning to walk away.

Draigo Sr. and Evelyn followed without another word, leaving Jeewon standing in the hallway, stunned and hurt.

Later that evening, Jeewon found Dragon sitting alone in the courtyard, his posture tense. She approached cautiously, still trying to process what had happened.

“Your family came to visit,” she said softly, sitting beside him.

Dragon’s face darkened. “I know. I saw them leave.”

Jeewon hesitated before continuing. “They seemed nice at first… but then, I don’t know. It was like they changed their minds about me.”

Dragon sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. They’re good at that. They’ll charm you until they see something they don’t like. Then they shut you out.”

Jeewon frowned. “They didn’t even give me a chance.”

“They don’t give anyone a chance,” Dragon said bitterly. “They don’t want to deal with anyone they see as… beneath them, but don't worry it's not personal”

Jeewon’s heart ached at the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry, Dragon.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice softer now. “They’ve always been like this. And honestly? You got off easy. You should’ve seen what they were like when my powers first showed up.”

Jeewon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You don’t deserve that. You deserve better.”

Dragon glanced at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks, Jeewon. That means a lot.”

Jeewon grew saddened when she watched Dragon just shrug it off. She thought about all of the times he was the one to act but was also the conscience of the group.

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the encounter hanging between them but drawing them closer together in its wake.

Dragon stared out at the courtyard, the tension in his body visible in the rigid way he sat. The silence between him and Jeewon stretched, but she didn’t press him. Instead, she waited, offering him the space to speak if he wanted to.

Finally, he exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as if letting go of a heavy weight. “You know,” he began quietly, “it’s not the first time they’ve looked at me like that.”

Jeewon tilted her head, her expression soft and encouraging. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, before deciding to continue. “When my powers first manifested, I was thirteen. I was at school, just a normal day—at least it started that way. There was this kid, Marcus. He’d been giving me grief for weeks, trying to get under my skin. I ignored him, you know? Kept my head down. I didn’t want any trouble.”

Jeewon nodded silently, her heart already aching for the younger version of him.

“But that day…” Dragon’s voice grew rougher, tinged with bitterness. “He shoved me into a locker, called me some names, said stuff about my family. I told him to back off, but he just laughed and threw the first punch. Hit me square in the face.” He touched his cheek as if the memory still stung.

“What happened next?” Jeewon asked softly.

Dragon’s eyes darkened. “I snapped. I didn’t even realize it at first, but the next thing I knew, there was this… wave of energy bursting out of me. It threw Marcus across the hallway. The lockers buckled, the lights exploded, and everyone started screaming. I didn’t even touch him, but they all looked at me like I was some kind of monster.”

Jeewon’s breath hitched. She could picture the chaos, the fear in the eyes of classmates who couldn’t understand what had just happened.

“The teachers freaked out, of course,” Dragon continued, his voice growing bitter. “They called my parents to come pick me up. And when they got there… I thought they’d at least hear me out, you know? I told them I didn’t start the fight. I told them Marcus hit me first.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But they didn’t care. My dad barely even looked at me. All he cared about was the mess I’d made and how it would make the family look. ‘Losing control,’ he called it. ‘Embarrassing us.’”

Jeewon frowned, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “That’s not fair. You were just defending yourself.”

“Fair?” Dragon scoffed. “Fair doesn’t matter to them. All they cared about was that I’d made a scene. That I’d shown them something ugly.”

He paused, the next words seeming to weigh heavily on him. “When we got home, my dad sat me down for one of his ‘talks.’” Dragon’s voice dropped, imitating the cold, clipped tone of his father. “‘If you’re going to act like a monster, then you might as well embrace it. From now on, you’re not DJ. You’re Dragon.’”

Jeewon’s eyes widened. “He called you that?”

Dragon nodded, his jaw clenched. “It was supposed to be a reminder. A warning. That’s where the name comes from. It’s not something I chose—it’s something he gave me, to make sure I never forgot what he saw when he looked at me.”

Jeewon felt her chest tighten, a mixture of anger and sorrow swirling inside her. She could see it now—the weight Dragon carried, the anger he kept buried beneath his reserved demeanor. It wasn’t just about the fight, or even the way his family had treated him today. It was years of being told he wasn’t good enough, that he was dangerous, that he had to suppress who he was.

“That’s why you’re so hard on yourself,” she said softly, the realization hitting her like a punch. “Because they made you feel like you had to be.”

Dragon glanced at her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and vulnerability. “Maybe. Or maybe I just learned that keeping it all in is the only way to keep from proving them right.”

Jeewon placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm. “You’re not a monster, Dragon. You never were. And you don’t have to carry their words with you. You’re more than that.”

For a moment, Dragon looked at her, his defenses cracking ever so slightly. He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, as if unsure how to accept her kindness. Instead, he looked away, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Thanks, Jeewon,” he said quietly.

They sat in silence again, but it was different this time—warmer, more connected. Jeewon made a silent vow to herself: she would find a way to help Dragon see the good in himself, no matter how long it took. Because beneath the pain and the anger, she could see the person he truly was—and he deserved to see that too.

The Flight and Conversation A few weeks later, Jeewon and Dragon were getting ready in the hanger as they prepared for their second mission Dragon and Jeewon stood outside the hangar, the morning sun casting a soft golden glow over the jet waiting on the runway. The air hummed with anticipation, but for once, neither of them seemed to notice. Dragon was leaning against the hangar wall, arms crossed, while Jeewon stood in front of him, absently adjusting the straps of her gear.

“So, what’s the plan once we land?” Jeewon asked, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity.

Dragon smirked faintly. “You’re not worried about the plan. You’ve read the briefing twice. You’re worried about everything else.”

Jeewon blinked, startled by how easily he saw through her. “That obvious?”

“Only to me,” Dragon replied, his voice softening. “You don’t have to worry, you know. You’re good at this—better than most of us.”

She smiled at his reassurance, but before she could respond, Dragon stepped closer. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to do,” he said, his voice low and uncharacteristically hesitant.

“What is it?” she asked, her brows furrowing slightly.

Dragon didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers mid-sentence. Jeewon froze, her mind blanking as she registered the sudden, unexpected kiss. It was brief, almost cautious, as if Dragon was testing the waters.

When he pulled back, her wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Dragon looked as though he might regret the impulsive move, but before he could speak, Jeewon found her voice.

“What was that for?” she asked, her tone caught between incredulity and a quiet warmth.

Dragon scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “I… don’t know. Felt right?”

Jeewon didn’t respond immediately, but her racing heart and the lingering tingle on her lips gave her answer. She managed a small smile, her voice softer now. “Okay. But next time, maybe warn me first?”

“Deal,” Dragon said, his lips twitching upward in a crooked grin.

Despite her calm exterior, Jeewon’s mind was spinning. She didn’t know exactly what this meant, but a part of her—a big part—didn’t mind finding out. As they boarded the jet Jeewon felt mixed feelings about her and Dragon's relationship.

Jeewon and Dragon were aboard a jet with Magik and Forge, heading to their latest mission. Dragon and Forge sat together, engaged in a lively discussion about flight mechanics and aerodynamics.

“So the lift is all about pressure differentials?” Dragon asked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Forge nodded. “Exactly. High pressure under the wing, low pressure above it—it’s the principle of Bernoulli’s equation. Combine that with thrust, and you’re defying gravity.”

Dragon chuckled. “Defying gravity? Sounds like magic with extra steps.”

“Science is just magic we understand,” Forge replied with a grin.

Magik, sitting across the aisle with Jeewon, smirked and gestured toward the pair. “Look at our two nerds,” she said.

Jeewon blinked, surprised. “Is it that obvious?”

Magik laughed. “Yes. The longing glances, the way you always defend him from the other students… It’s painfully obvious.”

Jeewon looked down, her cheeks reddening. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“Everyone notices,” Magik said, her tone teasing but kind. “But it’s cute. You should tell him how you feel.”

Jeewon hesitated, biting her lip. “What if it ruins things? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Magik shrugged. “You’ve seen how similar he and Forge are. I had to spell it out for the big dummy,” she said, nudging Forge with her boot. “Trust me—it’s worth it. Better to know than to keep wondering.”

Jeewon nodded slowly, Magik’s words sinking in. Maybe it was time to say something.

The jet touched down on the outskirts of the city, and the team quickly moved to assist the Avengers. MODOK’s AIM forces had set up an attack zone, their tech wreaking havoc in the streets. As the quartet advanced through the chaos, Dragon was the first to notice something unusual.

“Uh… is that a shark?” he asked, pointing to a small, waddling creature heading toward them.

The others stopped in their tracks, turning to see the unmistakable figure of Jeff the Landshark—a shark with legs, wagging its tail like a happy puppy.

“What the hell is that?” Forge muttered, his engineering brain clearly struggling to process what he was seeing.

“It’s Jeff,” Magik said casually, as if it explained everything.

“Jeff?” Jeewon repeated, confused but intrigued.

Before anyone could stop him, Dragon crouched down and extended a hand toward Jeff. The landshark sniffed at him for a moment before enthusiastically jumping up and licking his face.

Dragon laughed, caught off guard but delighted. “Well, aren’t you friendly?”

Jeff responded with a happy bark, nuzzling against him.

Magik rolled her eyes but smiled. “Congratulations, Dragon. You’ve made a new best friend.”

Jeewon crouched beside him, reaching out to pet Jeff, who wagged his tail even harder. “He’s adorable,” she said, grinning.

Forge finally joined them, his initial confusion giving way to amusement. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That’s kind of awesome.”

“Jeff’s got good taste,” Magik added, smirking. “Only the best people get the Jeff seal of approval.”

As if on cue, Jeff barked again and turned to waddle away. He stopped a few feet ahead, looking back at them and wagging his tail.

“Uh, is he trying to tell us something?” Jeewon asked, standing up.

“Looks like he wants us to follow him,” Dragon said, already moving to do just that.

Magik shrugged. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve seen today.”

Jeff led the team through the chaos with surprising agility, weaving between overturned cars and debris as if he had done this a hundred times before. Despite his small size and stubby legs, he was quick, forcing the group to jog to keep up.

“Why do I feel like we’re in a cartoon right now?” Forge muttered, jumping over a piece of smoldering wreckage.

Dragon chuckled. “If this ends with him leading us to MODOK’s secret lair, I’m naming him our unofficial team mascot.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Magik warned, her tone amused.

As they followed Jeff, the sounds of battle grew louder—explosions, shouted commands, and the unmistakable hum of repulsor blasts.

“He’s leading us straight to the action,” Jeewon said, her heart pounding.

“Good,” Dragon replied, his tone sharpening. “That’s where we need to be.”

A few moments later, Jeff skidded to a stop at the edge of a plaza, barking excitedly. The team caught up, ducking behind cover as they surveyed the scene.

In the middle of the plaza, the Avengers were locked in a fierce battle against MODOK and his AIM forces. Captain Marvel soared overhead, blasting drones out of the sky with precision energy strikes. Thor’s hammer crackled with lightning as he smashed through a group of AIM soldiers. Meanwhile, Iron Man and Black Panther worked in tandem, taking out a series of heavily armored mechs.

MODOK floated above it all, his massive, grotesque head encased in a golden exoskeleton. His voice boomed through the plaza, issuing commands to his troops.

“Crush them! The world will bow to my superior intellect!”

“Guy really likes the sound of his own voice,” Forge muttered.

Jeff barked again, drawing the Avengers’ attention. Captain Marvel glanced over and grinned when she saw him.

“Well, look who it is,” she said, blasting another drone before landing near the team. “Jeff brought friends!”

“Good to see you, Captain,” Magik said with a nod.

“About time you showed up,” Captain Marvel replied, her tone teasing but grateful. She gestured toward MODOK. “Think you can help us shut him up?”

“With pleasure,” Dragon said, stepping forward.

Jeff barked one last time before nuzzling against Jeewon’s leg, earning a soft laugh from her. “Looks like he’s cheering us on,” she said.

“Then we’d better not let him down,” Magik said, summoning her Soulsword.

The team moved into action, each member bringing their unique skills to the fray. Jeff the Landshark wagged his tail furiously on the sidelines, as if cheering them on. Dragon leaped into the fight alongside Magik and T’Challa, his movements deliberate and sharp yet undeniably flashy.

T’Challa, recognizing the younger man, smirked mid-strike. “Ah, so your aunt finally let you spread your wings?” he quipped, sidestepping a psionic blast from one of MODOK’s drones.

Dragon grinned, rolling under another blast and countering with a Destructo-kinesis burst, shattering a mech’s cannon arm. “Yup. Guess she got tired of me wrecking her training grounds.”

Magik snorted. “It’s about time.”

As they fought, Dragon’s eyes locked onto T’Challa’s movements. The Black Panther’s combat style was efficient and calculated, every movement optimized for maximum impact. Dragon studied how T’Challa’s vibranium suit absorbed blows and channeled kinetic energy, noting the subtle shifts in his stance and timing.

When T’Challa used an explosive kinetic release to disable a mech, Dragon’s eyes lit up. He adjusted his approach, charging his Destructo-kinesis energy into his fists. The next mech he targeted erupted in a controlled detonation, its sensors and weapons fried.

“You’re learning quickly,” T’Challa remarked, evading a soldier’s strike with grace.

Dragon nodded, leaping into the air and twisting mid-flight to deliver an energized kick. “I learn best by doing.”

Blending Styles and Powers

As the fight progressed, Dragon’s movements became increasingly fluid, a seamless blend of styles. He incorporated T’Challa’s efficiency, Magik’s mystic-infused precision, and his own instinctual, high-energy combat. Yet, what made him stand out was his use of Destructo-kinesis.

With a flash of his hands, Dragon summoned orbs of crackling energy and hurled them at incoming drones. The orbs detonated on impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The energy didn’t just destroy—it disrupted electronics, leaving AIM mechs and soldiers scrambling.

One mech managed to pin Magik with a hydraulic claw, but Dragon acted swiftly. He formed a thin, glowing blade of Destructo-kinesis energy, slashing through the mech’s arm with precision before finishing it off with a detonation.

“Thanks,” Magik said, teleporting behind another soldier to cut them down.

“No problem. You keep teaching me those mystic tricks, and I’ll keep saving your butt,” Dragon replied, smirking.

Magik rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin.

As the battle raged, T’Challa performed a ritual gesture to invoke Bast’s powers, unleashing a wave of energy that disoriented MODOK’s forces. Dragon, watching from the corner of his eye, mimicked the gesture.

“Wait, what is he doing?” Magik asked, glancing at T’Challa.

“I’m not sure,” T’Challa replied, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Instead of channeling Bast, Dragon’s aura shifted. A spectral dragon—massive, fearsome, and radiating otherworldly power—materialized behind him, its glowing eyes locking onto MODOK’s forces.

“Did he just… channel Fin Fang Foom?” Magik said, stunned but unable to suppress a grin.

Dragon, his voice filled with awe and confidence, called out, “Let’s see how you like a little dragonfire!”

The spectral dragon roared, unleashing a torrent of green energy that tore through MODOK’s forces. At the same time, Dragon used his Destructo-kinesis to enhance his strikes, creating controlled explosions that dismantled mechs and soldiers alike. His energy blades glowed brighter, cutting through AIM machinery like butter, and his explosive projectiles created chaos among the enemy ranks.

MODOK floated higher, his face twisting into rage. “You think a mere dragon can best the superior intellect of MODOK?!”

Dragon smirked, his hands crackling with energy. “Let’s find out!”

As MODOK directed his remaining forces to focus on the spectral dragon, Dragon seized the opportunity. Moving with precision and flair, he combined T’Challa’s efficient strikes, Magik’s mystic techniques, and his Destructo-kinesis to devastating effect. His attacks were flashy yet calculated, echoing the dramatic flair of a Power Ranger.

When a particularly large mech charged at him, Dragon leapt into the air, channeling his energy into a spiraling kick that detonated on impact. The mech exploded, pieces scattering across the battlefield.

During a brief lull in the chaos, T’Challa and Magik exchanged a glance.

“He’s quite the versatile fighter,” T’Challa remarked, blocking a strike with ease.

Magik, teleporting to Dragon’s side, nodded. “He’s not just versatile—he’s getting scary good.”

As if to prove her point, Dragon formed an orb of energy, tossing it into a cluster of AIM drones. The orb expanded mid-air before detonating, sending a shockwave that disabled the entire group.

When the battle finally subsided, the spectral dragon faded, leaving MODOK’s forces in ruins. Dragon stood at the center of the destruction, breathing heavily but grinning.

Magik clapped him on the shoulder. “Not bad, rookie.”

T’Challa nodded in approval. “Your aunt would be proud.”

Dragon chuckled, dispersing the residual energy in his hands. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Nearby, Jeff barked his approval, bounding toward Dragon and wagging his tail furiously.

As the battle wound down, the team turned their attention to clearing debris and helping civilians. Jeff the Landshark cheerfully weaved between the group, oblivious to the tension building within Dragon as his gaze darted across the battlefield. He tensed suddenly, his shoulders stiffening.

“Where are Jeewon and Forge?” he asked Magik, his tone sharp.

Magik’s brow furrowed as she scanned the field. “They were with us a moment ago—”

“Let me go, you tin-headed freaks!” Forge’s voice carried across the battlefield, followed by the sound of sparking energy.

Dragon’s heart sank as he turned toward the noise. He felt a surge of adrenaline when he heard Jeewon’s voice next.

“You’re really going to try this after the beating we just gave you?” she called out, dodging an AIM agent’s grasp and delivering a solid kick to his side.

Dragon’s vision narrowed as he saw more agents closing in on her. Then she shouted his name, her voice edged with fear.

Flashback: Beast and Wolverine’s Training

As Dragon’s body began to hum with latent energy, a memory surfaced—Beast and Wolverine standing in Xavier’s underground Danger Room, both wearing expressions of tempered concern.

“Your mutation is more intricate than we initially thought,” Beast had said, adjusting his glasses. “Your Destructo-kinesis powers are only the tip of the iceberg. It seems your abilities have evolved secondary and tertiary manifestations.”

Dragon tilted his head, puzzled. “What does that mean exactly?”

Wolverine crossed his arms, his gruff voice cutting in. “Means you’ve got more than one trick up your sleeve, kid. But those new tricks ain’t easy to control.”

Beast elaborated. “Your secondary ability is a berserker rage, similar to Logan’s. It’s tied to your emotional state—particularly when you perceive someone you care about is in danger.”

Dragon looked at Wolverine. “So, what, I just go crazy and start slashing?”

Wolverine smirked. “Something like that. But you’ve got finesse in there too, if you learn to rein it in.”

Beast cleared his throat. “As for your tertiary ability, it appears you can form energy constructs—highly complex ones. We’ll need to test your limits on that front.”

The session that followed was grueling. Wolverine deliberately triggered Dragon’s rage by taunting him while Beast observed from a safe distance. Every time the berserker state took over, Dragon’s powers would spike uncontrollably, creating massive waves of destruction.

But it wasn’t until Wolverine brought up Jeewon—offhandedly calling her Dragon’s “weak spot”—that the berserker transformation became dangerously potent. Dragon’s aura flared, his energy forming jagged constructs that lashed out unpredictably.

“Whoa, easy there, bub,” Wolverine said, backing off as Dragon’s rage surged.

Beast adjusted his glasses again. “It seems your attachment to Jeewon is a significant trigger. We’ll have to tread carefully there.”

Back on the battlefield, Dragon’s muscles tightened as the memory faded. His eyes darkened, taking on a molten glow, and his fists crackled with barely-contained energy. The ground trembled beneath him as his power surged.

“Dragon?” Magik asked, alarmed.

But he didn’t respond. His eyes locked on the AIM agents swarming Jeewon, and his body moved instinctively. His hand shot out, summoning his Soulspear—an ethereal weapon glowing with a mix of his Destructo-kinesis and mystical energy.

With a primal roar, he leapt into the air, slashing down at the agents surrounding Jeewon. Each strike was ferocious yet precise, cutting through their ranks with ease.

Magik watched, both amazed and terrified. “He’s never summoned that before,” she murmured.

Dragon’s movements were faster, more fluid than ever. His rage-fueled power made it difficult for anyone to approach. As he fought, he began singing—God of Fire by Fit For a King—his voice resonating with raw intensity.

When Modok, still recovering from his losses, saw an opportunity to strike, he aimed a psionic blast directly at Jeewon.

Dragon noticed before anyone else. His fury intensified, and he shouted words he had heard Doctor Strange use in a battle months prior.

“Spear of Cú Chulainn, Gáe Bolg!”

His Soulspear flew from his hands, splitting into a thousand shards of mystical and destructive energy. They barreled toward Modok, each fragment homing in with unerring precision.

Modok raised a psionic shield in desperation, deflecting most of the shards, but one pierced through, embedding itself into his rib.

“You dare attack my treasure?” Dragon snarled, his voice trembling with fury.

Modok tried to teleport away, but Dragon extended his hand, draining the kinetic energy from the device. Modok, now wounded and cornered, created another shield, but it was no match for the Soulspear, which returned to Dragon’s grasp.

Dragon’s rage consumed him. His aura flared, and he began advancing toward Modok. “You will die for your transgressions. Your bloodline will weep as I cull them,” he growled in Korean, his tone dark and venomous.

Jeewon’s heart raced as she stepped forward, placing herself between Dragon and Modok.

“Stop,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite her fear.

Dragon’s glowing eyes met hers. For a moment, the rage seemed to waver.

“You’re scaring me,” Jeewon said softly, her gaze locked with his.

Her words pierced through the haze. Dragon’s breathing slowed, his fists unclenching as the Soulspear dissipated into thin air. His aura dimmed, and the molten glow in his eyes faded.

“I’m… sorry,” Dragon said, his voice hoarse.

Jeewon smiled gently, reaching out to touch his arm. “It’s okay. I know you were just trying to protect me.”

Behind them, Modok, clutching his wound, activated a hidden escape pod and fled the battlefield. For now, the fight was over, but the aftermath of Dragon’s unleashed rage left an undeniable tension in the air.

The Quinjet hummed steadily as it soared through the sky, leaving the remnants of the battlefield far behind. The team sat in tense silence, the adrenaline of the fight slowly giving way to exhaustion. Forge tinkered with his cybernetic arm, muttering something about needing to upgrade it after AIM’s advanced tech had given him trouble. Jeewon sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap, casting worried glances toward Dragon.

Dragon sat alone near the rear of the Quinjet, staring out the window. His body language was tense, his fists clenching and unclenching as he replayed the fight in his mind. The Soulspear, the rage, the look on Jeewon’s face when she told him to stop—it all swirled in his thoughts, heavy and oppressive.

Magik, sitting nearby, watched him with her usual stoic expression, though her blue eyes softened slightly. She rose from her seat and walked over, sitting across from him.

“You look like you’re chewing on something heavy,” she said, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

Dragon didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I lost control.”

Magik tilted her head slightly. “You didn’t lose control. You took it back. And that’s what matters.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how it felt. I didn’t even know I could do half of that stuff—the Soulspear, the Gáe Bolg thing, draining Modok’s teleport. And then… the rage.” He finally turned to her, his expression pained. “I scared her, Magik. I scared Jeewon.”

Magik was quiet for a moment, letting his words settle. “I won’t sugarcoat it. What happened was dangerous. To you, to the team, to her. But that’s why we’re having this conversation now—so it doesn’t happen again.”

Dragon leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where to start. This berserker thing—it’s like everything else disappears, and all I can think about is protecting her. It’s like nothing else matters.”

Magik’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Logan and I have seen this kind of thing before. You’re not the first mutant to develop abilities tied to strong emotions. The berserker rage is part of who you are now, Dragon, but it doesn’t have to define you. Control is possible—but only if you’re willing to face what drives it.”

He looked at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

She sat back, crossing her arms. “The rage comes from somewhere. It’s not just about Jeewon. It’s deeper than that—something primal. Protecting her is the trigger, sure, but the source? That’s something you’ll have to figure out. And when you do, you’ll have the power to channel it instead of letting it channel you.”

Dragon shook his head. “That’s easier said than done. What if I can’t control it? What if next time, I hurt her—or someone else?”

Magik’s expression softened. “You’ve already taken the first step. You stopped yourself, Dragon. That wasn’t me or Jeewon. That was you. And that means you can do it again.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet reassurance he didn’t know he needed. He turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him. “You ever feel like this? Like there’s something inside you that you’re scared to let out?”

Magik’s eyes darkened briefly, shadows flickering across her face. “Every day,” she admitted, her voice low. “But I’ve learned that fear can either control you, or you can control it. You’re stronger than you think, Dragon. And you’re not alone in this.”

Dragon met her gaze, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. “Thanks, Magik.”

She smirked faintly. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not done making you work for it. When we get back, you and I are hitting the Danger Room. If you’re going to have a Soulspear and a berserker rage, you’re damn well going to learn how to use them without losing yourself.”

Dragon chuckled despite himself. “You don’t go easy on anyone, do you?”

“Not a chance,” she said, standing and patting his shoulder. “And one more thing—you might want to talk to Jeewon. Whatever happened out there, she’s not afraid of you. She’s afraid for you.”

As Magik walked back to her seat, Dragon leaned his head against the window, her words echoing in his mind. He glanced toward Jeewon, who caught his eye and gave him a small, encouraging smile.

For the first time since the fight, the knot in his chest loosened just a little.

The Quinjet landed back at the X-Mansion under a canopy of stars. The team disembarked quietly, the weight of the day’s events still heavy in the air. While Forge and Magik headed toward the War Room to debrief, Jeewon lingered near the jet, glancing at Dragon as he hesitated on the ramp.

She took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Dragon.”

He looked up, startled, but then his expression softened. “Hey.”

Jeewon motioned toward a bench near the hangar’s edge. “Walk with me?”

Dragon nodded, and the two strolled in silence for a moment, the cool night air helping ease the tension. They reached the bench, and Jeewon sat down, patting the spot beside her.

“You’ve been quiet since the fight,” she said, watching him carefully.

Dragon hesitated, then sat, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. “Yeah. I’ve been… thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what happened out there.” He looked down, his voice low. “About how I lost control.”

Jeewon tilted her head. “You didn’t lose control, Dragon. You protected us.”

He shook his head. “No. That wasn’t me protecting anyone. That was rage. Pure, blinding rage. I didn’t care about anything else. If you hadn’t stopped me… I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Jeewon’s expression softened. She reached out, gently placing her hand over his. “Dragon, listen to me. I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid for you. That’s why I stepped in.”

He looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. “You weren’t… scared?”

“Not for a second,” she said firmly. “I know you, Dragon. I know your heart. You’d never hurt me. Not intentionally.”

“But what if I can’t control it next time?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. “What if I hurt you—or someone else?”

Jeewon gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Then we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this. You have me, Magik, Forge, everyone. And I trust you. I trust that you’ll find a way to master this.”

Dragon’s gaze dropped to their hands, her faith in him almost overwhelming. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

Jeewon smiled faintly. “You don’t get to decide that. I’m here because I want to be.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the night wrapping around them like a cocoon. Finally, Dragon exhaled deeply. “During the fight, when Modok attacked you… something snapped. It was like everything inside me just… erupted. All I could think about was keeping you safe. Nothing else mattered.”

Jeewon’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she held his gaze. “You care about me. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“I care about you so much it scares me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s not just as a teammate or a friend. It’s… more than that.”

Jeewon’s breath caught, her heart racing at his words. She felt the same, but hearing him say it out loud made it all the more real.

“I know,” she said softly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Dragon blinked, surprised. “You have?”

She nodded. “And for the record, I care about you too. Probably more than I should.”

His lips parted in shock, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Well, that makes me feel a little less like an idiot.”

Jeewon laughed, the sound light and melodic. “You’re not an idiot, Dragon. You’re just… you. And that’s enough.”

He looked at her, the weight in his chest lifting. “Thank you, Jeewon. For everything.”

She smiled, her eyes warm. “Always.”

As they sat together under the stars, the world seemed a little less heavy, and for the first time since the fight, Dragon felt like things might actually be okay.

The moonlight bathed the X-Mansion’s gardens in a soft, silvery glow, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed hedges. Dragon sat on the edge of a stone fountain, staring into the rippling water. His reflection wavered, distorted like his thoughts.

“You’ve been brooding out here for a while,” a familiar voice called out.

Dragon turned to see Storm standing a few feet away, her white hair catching the moonlight like a halo. Her expression was soft, though her sharp eyes seemed to see right through him.

“Hey, Auntie,” Dragon muttered, turning back to the water.

She walked over, her presence commanding yet comforting, and sat beside him on the edge of the fountain. “I thought I’d find you here. This garden always did seem to draw you in when something was on your mind.”

Dragon chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I’m predictable, huh?”

She gave him a small smile. “Not predictable, just familiar. Tell me what’s troubling you, nephew.”

He hesitated, staring down at his hands. “It’s… everything. Today was a mess. I lost control again, Auntie. Jeewon could’ve gotten hurt, or worse, and it would’ve been my fault.”

Storm studied him for a moment, her gaze steady but kind. “I spoke with Hank and Logan earlier. They told me about what’s happening with your powers—the berserker state, the constructs, how it’s all evolving.”

Dragon tensed, his shoulders hunching. “Yeah, evolving. More like spiraling out of control.”

Ororo placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “It’s not uncommon for mutations to develop new facets over time. Do you think I always had complete mastery of my powers? When I was younger, the weather bent to my emotions. A moment of fear, anger, or despair could summon a hurricane or a drought. It took years of training and patience to learn control.”

Dragon looked at her, surprised. “You? But you’re Storm. You’ve always been the perfect X-Man.”

Her soft laugh carried no bitterness. “Far from perfect, my dear. It’s easy to see someone at the height of their mastery and forget the struggles it took to get there. What you’re going through is not a failure, Dragon—it’s a transition. And transitions are always difficult.”

He frowned, his voice tinged with frustration. “But what if I can’t control it? What if I hurt someone next time?”

Ororo’s expression turned serious, though her tone remained gentle. “That is a question we all face, Dragon. Logan has struggled with it for decades. Even I still wrestle with it in moments of great strain. But the fact that you are asking these questions, that you care enough to fear that outcome, means you’re already on the right path.”

Dragon sighed, staring into the water again. “It’s just… scary. When the berserker thing kicks in, it’s like I’m not even me anymore. It’s like someone else is driving, and I’m just… watching.”

Storm nodded, her gaze distant for a moment as if recalling her own struggles. “I know that fear. But today, you came back. It was Jeewon who reached you, yes, but ultimately, it was your choice to listen. That shows strength, Dragon. Strength that many would struggle to find.”

He let her words sink in, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Beast and Logan have been helping me figure it out. They’ve been great, but it’s still… a lot. Sometimes I feel like I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Stop that,” Ororo said firmly, her voice like thunder rolling in the distance. “You are worth far more than you realize, nephew. You are strong, compassionate, and brave. Do not let moments of doubt erase everything you have accomplished.”

Dragon looked down, guilt flickering in his expression. “I just don’t want to let you down. Or anyone else.”

She reached out, cupping his face and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You could never let me down, Dragon. Do you hear me? Never. I am proud of you, not because of your powers or your victories, but because of who you are. You are my family, my blood, and I see so much potential in you. The same potential your mother saw.”

The mention of his mother made his chest tighten, but it also brought a flicker of warmth. “You think Mom would’ve been proud of me?”

Ororo’s smile softened, and she brushed a hand over his hair. “I know she would. She was a warrior in her own right, and she would see the same fire in you that I do.”

Dragon swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. “Thanks, Auntie. That… means a lot.”

She stood, her regal posture as unshakable as ever, and extended a hand to him. “Come. It’s late, and you need rest. Tomorrow is another day, and another chance to grow stronger.”

He took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet. “You’re really good at this whole pep talk thing, you know?”

She laughed lightly, looping an arm around his shoulders. “It comes with experience. And remember, nephew—you are never alone in this. We are your family, and we will face these challenges together.”

As they walked back toward the mansion, the heaviness in Dragon’s chest began to lift. The path ahead still seemed daunting, but with Ororo’s unwavering faith in him, he felt like he could take the first step forward.

A few more weeks pass and the world moves on. The air outside Xavier’s School felt charged, as though the sky itself was holding its breath. Students whispered nervously, gathering in clusters around the main courtyard. At the center of it all, Namor the Sub-Mariner stood in regal splendor, his Trident of Neptune glinting in the sunlight. Clad in his ceremonial Atlantean armor, he exuded an aura of power and confidence that demanded attention.

Jeewon stood beside Storm, her expression calm but her posture guarded. Dragon watched from a distance, his fists clenched at his sides. Something about Namor’s presence rubbed him the wrong way—his arrogance, his smooth words, the way his eyes lingered on Jeewon as though she were a prize.

Namor’s deep voice carried over the murmurs of the crowd. “Ororo, I come not only as king but as an emissary of Atlantis. My council advises that a union between surface and sea would strengthen our alliance.” His piercing gaze turned to Jeewon. “And I find myself captivated by this one.”

A hush fell over the courtyard.

Jeewon blinked in surprise, stepping back slightly. “I… appreciate the compliment, but—”

Namor interrupted, a small smile playing on his lips. “It is not just a compliment. It is a declaration. You, Jeewon, are worthy of standing beside a king. I offer you the honor of becoming my queen.”

Dragon’s stomach twisted into knots. His pulse quickened as anger bubbled beneath his skin, the kind of anger that felt like it didn’t belong to him, as though it came from something deeper.

“She’s not an object for you to claim,” Dragon found himself saying, his voice low but firm.

Namor raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to Dragon. “And who are you to speak in this matter, surface-dweller? A rival, perhaps?”

Dragon stepped forward, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I’m her teammate. And a friend.” His voice grew louder, more resolute. “And someone who won’t stand by while you treat her like a bargaining chip.”

Jeewon glanced at Dragon, her eyes wide, a mix of surprise and gratitude flickering across her face.

Namor smirked, stepping closer to Dragon. Despite being shorter, Namor’s presence was intimidating, his confidence unshakable. “You have fire, boy. But what can you offer her? A king offers power, stability, a throne.” His voice dripped with condescension. “What can you give her that I cannot?”

Dragon’s fury flared. He could feel the kinetic energy coursing through him, hot and volatile. “Respect,” he growled.

Without realizing it, the air around him began to shimmer with heat. A faint, fiery aura flickered to life, radiating off his body. The crowd gasped, stepping back.

Namor’s smirk faltered as he sensed the shift in Dragon’s energy. “Interesting,” he muttered, his tone now wary.

“Stop it, both of you!” Jeewon’s voice cut through the tension, commanding attention. She stepped between them, placing a hand on Dragon’s chest. The contact grounded him, pulling him back from the edge. The fiery aura faded, and the heat in the air dissipated.

“Dragon,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “Thank you. But I can handle this.”

Dragon nodded, his breathing heavy. He took a step back, his eyes still locked on Namor.

Jeewon turned to Namor, her expression firm. “Your offer is flattering, but I’m not interested. My place is here, with my team.” Her voice was steady, leaving no room for argument.

Namor studied her for a moment before inclining his head. “Very well. I respect your decision.” He cast one last glance at Dragon, his expression unreadable, before turning to leave.

As the crowd began to disperse, Jeewon turned back to Dragon. Her hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer than necessary. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice soft but filled with warmth.

“I did,” Dragon replied, his voice quieter now. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

She smiled, her gaze holding his. “Well, thank you. It means a lot.”

Dragon nodded, feeling his heartbeat start to settle. As Jeewon walked back toward the training center, he couldn’t help but watch her, realizing that his feelings for her ran far deeper than he’d been willing to admit.

And as he stood there, still buzzing with residual energy, he also realized something else: when it came to Jeewon, he would fight anyone—even a king. Reveal

The clang of soul weapons echoed through the training chamber Magic had Fashioned in Limbo as Dragon sparred with Magik. He blocked her strike with a kinetic shield, the energy rippling like molten light between them. Magik grinned, testing his reflexes with a feint before swinging her sword again.

“You’re getting better,” she said, her tone approving but playful. “Still too stiff, though. Loosen up, or you’ll end up eating my blade.”

“Maybe I like the challenge,” Dragon replied, managing a smirk despite the sweat dripping down his brow.

Magik pivoted smoothly and, with a flick of her wrist, sent Dragon sprawling to the ground. She stood over him, the flat of her sword pressed lightly against his chest.

“Challenge accepted,” she teased, offering him a hand to pull him up.

As Dragon dusted himself off, Magik sheathed her blade and leaned casually against the wall. Her sharp blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Speaking of challenges… I heard about your little showdown with Namor.”

Dragon froze mid-stretch, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. “Oh, come on. Who told you?”

“News travels fast when it involves nearly taking on the King of Atlantis,” she said, laughing. “Storm wasn’t thrilled, by the way. But me? I think it’s hilarious.”

Dragon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that. I just… I don’t even know what came over me. One second, he was acting all smug and possessive, and the next…”

Magik tilted her head, studying him. “The next, you were ready to rip his head off.”

Dragon frowned, his voice quieter now. “Yeah. And I don’t know why. I’ve never lost it like that before. It’s… embarrassing.”

Magik’s expression softened, a rare show of seriousness crossing her face. “Oh, Dragon. You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?”

She stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the first time, you know. Remember when we were on the mission in Genosha, and that rogue sentinel came after Jeewon? You threw yourself in front of it without hesitation, even though you were already hurt.”

Dragon blinked, caught off guard. “That was… instinct. She needed help.”

“And then there was the Hydra raid last month,” Magik continued. “When that operative tried to drag her into the van, you nearly leveled the entire block trying to get her back.”

“That was different,” Dragon argued, though his voice wavered.

“Was it?” Magik asked, her tone gentle but firm. “You didn’t react that way when anyone else was in danger. Not even me, and I’m your mentor. But with Jeewon, it’s like a switch flips inside you. You can’t stand the thought of her being hurt or—” She paused, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “—or taken away from you.”

Dragon opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he looked down, his fists clenching at his sides.

Magik’s gaze softened further. “Dragon, it’s okay. You like her. And not just as a teammate or a friend. You care about her in a way you haven’t cared about anyone in a long time.”

Dragon let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know… Maybe you’re right. But it’s not just that. It’s this… fear, you know? I’ve lost so much already—my family, my old life. And with Jeewon…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

“You don’t want to lose her, too,” Magik finished for him.

Dragon nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Magik stepped back, crossing her arms as a sly grin returned to her face. “Well, you’ve got two choices, Godzilla. You can keep bottling this up until it explodes, or you can tell her how you feel before someone else does.”

Dragon hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Magik snorted. “Please. Have you seen the way she looks at you? She’s not as subtle as she thinks she is.”

She gestured toward the door. “Now, get out of here. Go talk to her before I drag you to her myself.”

Dragon chuckled nervously but nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Magik.”

“Anytime, kid,” she said, watching him leave with a knowing smile.

Later, outside the training center

Jeewon was sitting on a bench, tying her shoes for the next session when Dragon approached, his heart pounding in his chest. He stopped a few feet away, unsure how to begin.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

Jeewon looked up, her expression softening when she saw him. “Hey. Everything okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Dragon laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She set her shoes aside, giving him her full attention. “What’s on your mind?”

Dragon took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot, so I’m just going to say it. Jeewon, I like you. A lot. More than I’ve liked anyone in a really long time.”

Jeewon’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t interrupt.

“You’re smart, and strong, and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not just some screw-up who can’t control his powers,” he continued. “I know we’re teammates, and I don’t want to make things weird, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

There was a long silence as Jeewon processed his words. Dragon’s heart sank, convinced he’d made a mistake.

But then, she smiled.

“Dragon,” she said softly, standing up and taking a step closer to him. “I’m glad you told me. Because… I’ve been feeling the same way.”

His eyes widened. “You have?”

She nodded, her smile turning shy. “I guess I didn’t realize it until recently, but… you’ve always been there for me. You make me laugh when I need it, and you remind me that it’s okay to lean on someone else. You’re not a screw-up, Dragon. You’re… amazing.”

Dragon felt a wave of relief and disbelief wash over him. “So, what now?”

Jeewon grinned, her confidence returning. “Well, how about we start with dinner? We’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

Dragon chuckled, his nerves finally fading. “That sounds perfect.”

As they walked toward the dining hall together, side by side, Dragon couldn’t help but feel like, for the first time in a long time, he had something—someone—worth fighting for.

The scarlet skies of Limbo churned as demonic creatures scurried away from the clearing where Dragon and Magik trained. The air buzzed with raw energy, charged with both Dragon’s destructive powers and Magik’s mystical command of the realm. Dragon stood, breathing heavily, his Soulspear shimmering faintly in his hand.

“You’re holding back,” Magik said sharply, circling him with her Soul Sword resting casually on her shoulder. Her tone was more mentor than friend now, carrying the edge of a teacher unwilling to let her pupil take the easy road.

“I’m not holding back,” Dragon replied, adjusting his grip on the spear. “I just… don’t want to wreck everything around us. Again.”

Magik smirked. “Wrecking things is part of the fun here, маленький дракон. Limbo will survive. I’m more concerned about you not tapping into the full potential of your Soulspear.” She raised her blade, its silver edge glowing in the dim light. “Again.”

Dragon grimaced but nodded. He charged, his spear gleaming with a mix of mystical energy and his innate Destructo-kinesis. He lunged, aiming for Magik, who easily deflected the strike with her sword. Their weapons clashed, sending sparks of energy into the air.

As they exchanged blows, Magik’s sharp gaze never left Dragon. She could feel the growth in his strength, the way his powers adapted with each clash. His Soulspear wasn’t just a weapon—it was an extension of himself, responding to his will, his emotions, his very essence.

After a particularly strong strike that forced Magik to teleport behind him, she called out, “Stop!”

Dragon froze mid-swing, his spear dissipating into thin air. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

Magik lowered her sword and approached him, her piercing blue eyes narrowing. “No, but I think I’m starting to understand what’s happening with you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, brushing sweat from his brow.

Magik sheathed her Soul Sword and gestured to the empty space between them. “Your Soulspear—do you understand what it is?”

Dragon shrugged. “I mean, it’s like… a weapon, right? Made from my energy and powers?”

She tilted her head, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s a manifestation of your soul, Dragon. The same way my Soul Sword is tied to my essence as the ruler of Limbo, your Soulspear is tied to you. Your identity, your strength, your evolution.”

Dragon frowned, staring at his hand where the spear had just been. “So… it’s like a part of me?”

“Exactly,” Magik said, crossing her arms. “And because of that, it grows as you grow. But there’s something else.” She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. “Your mutation—your powers—they’re evolving faster than they should be.”

“What?” Dragon looked at her in confusion. “Why would that be happening?”

Magik gestured to the chaotic landscape around them. “We’ve been training here in Limbo, a realm overflowing with mystical energy and raw chaos. Your powers aren’t just adapting to survive—they’re trying to keep up with me.”

Dragon blinked, stunned. “Wait, you think I’m getting stronger because of you?”

She gave him a rare, genuine smile. “You’re always pushing yourself harder, trying to close the gap between us. Even if you don’t realize it, your body and your powers do. They’re evolving because they have to, because Limbo doesn’t tolerate stagnation, and neither do I.”

Dragon rubbed the back of his neck, a mix of pride and unease bubbling up in him. “So… what does that mean for me? Is that dangerous?”

“It could be,” Magik admitted, her tone serious. “Pushing yourself too hard, too fast, can lead to instability. But it also means your potential is greater than you’ve been giving yourself credit for. Your Soulspear isn’t just a weapon—it’s a reflection of your power and your growth. The stronger you become, the stronger it will become.”

Dragon summoned the spear again, its energy crackling in his hand. He examined it closely, noticing faint etchings along its shaft—patterns he hadn’t seen before. “So… I’ve been evolving this whole time just by being here?”

Magik stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, and you’ve been doing it well. But you need to start owning that growth. Stop doubting yourself, Dragon. If you’re going to train with me, you can’t hold back. Not anymore.”

Dragon met her gaze, determination flaring in his eyes. “Alright, no more holding back.”

Magik’s smirk returned. “Good. Now pick up your spear, маленький дракон. We’ve got work to do.”

And with that, the training resumed, the clash of their weapons echoing through Limbo as Dragon pushed himself further, embracing the strength that had always been inside him.

The atmosphere in Limbo crackled with energy as Dragon and Magik squared off once more. This time, Dragon was different—he wasn’t holding back. The hesitation that had once clouded his movements was gone, replaced by a focused intensity. The Soulspear hummed in his hand, its form shifting fluidly as he adapted his fighting style to match the ebb and flow of their battle.

Magik stood across from him, Soul Sword raised in a defensive stance. Her eyes were sharp, watching every subtle change in Dragon’s technique. She had trained him for months, and now, she was witnessing something extraordinary: Dragon was no longer just a powerhouse; he was a strategist, using his growing understanding of his powers with increasing finesse.

Dragon’s spear transformed with a flash of energy, the blade twisting and reshaping itself into a jagged, spinning chainsaw. Magik’s eyes widened in approval as he charged toward her, the chainsaw’s roar filling the air. She parried his first swing, but his next strike was a flick of the wrist—quick, calculated, and precise. The chainsaw blade was replaced with a blunt end, sending her flying backward with the force of the hit.

“Not bad, маленький дракон,” Magik said, her voice laced with admiration, though she quickly recovered and teleported behind him.

Dragon didn’t hesitate, spinning around and thrusting his spear back into its usual form—a sharp, deadly point. But this time, instead of charging with brute force, he leveled the spear toward her, and a blast of energy shot from the end. The blast wasn’t just a raw force of destruction; it was targeted, controlled. Magik barely managed to teleport again to avoid it, and when she appeared beside him, she saw his spear shift again—this time, the spearhead morphed into a rifle-like barrel.

“You’re adapting,” she said, her voice filled with awe as she narrowly dodged another energy shot from the rifle form. “I didn’t think you could make it that versatile.”

Dragon grinned, the thrill of pushing his limits clear on his face. “Neither did I,” he admitted, as the rifle shifted back into its original form, the blade gleaming in the dim light. “Guess I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

Magik felt a pride swell in her chest. She had seen this kind of growth before—students who unlocked new heights of power—but this was different. Dragon wasn’t just learning to use his powers; he was mastering them in ways no one could have predicted.

Dragon shifted his stance again, his Soulspear reshaping yet again—this time into a broad, heavy hammer. He swung it toward her with a powerful arc, the momentum carrying with it the force of a small earthquake. Magik met the blow with a teleportation dodge, but she could feel the shockwave of energy ripple through Limbo’s landscape as he moved. His ability to adapt to different forms was becoming second nature.

“You’re getting too good at this,” Magik teased, ducking under a low swipe of the hammer and appearing behind him once more.

“I’m trying to catch up,” Dragon said, his eyes flashing with determination. With a twist of his wrist, his Soulspear turned into a massive bladed scythe. The new form gave him greater reach, and he used it to his advantage, sweeping the weapon in wide arcs to keep Magik at bay.

Magik watched him, her gaze unwavering as she parried each strike. He was fast, clever, and adaptable, and though his raw power still couldn’t match hers, she was starting to see just how far he’d come. His control over his Soulspear, the ability to shift its form on the fly, was a sign of true mastery. The finesse in his movements was something that even the most seasoned warriors sometimes lacked, and Dragon was weaving that finesse into his explosive power.

She couldn’t help but smile as she dodged another devastating blow from his scythe. “You’re really starting to impress me, маленький дракон.”

Dragon didn’t respond right away, his focus entirely on their fight. He shifted his Soulspear into a long, whip-like form and lashed out at her. The whip snapped through the air, crackling with power, but Magik blocked it effortlessly with her Soul Sword, which glowed brighter in response. Still, the whip didn’t retreat; it lashed again, faster this time, and Magik had to teleport repeatedly to avoid being caught.

Magik couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been holding back for so long, and now you’re letting loose, huh?”

Dragon’s voice was breathless, but there was a hint of pride in it. “Feels good. It’s like… my powers are finally catching up to the way I want to use them.”

“That’s exactly it,” Magik said, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. “Your power isn’t just about brute force, Dragon. It’s about adaptability. And you’ve learned that faster than I thought you would. Your Soulspear—your mutation—it’s a tool, but it’s also a reflection of who you are. A reflection of your growth.”

Dragon’s smile was small but genuine. “Thanks, Magik. I’m still learning, but it feels good to finally feel like I’m not just playing catch-up.”

Magik lowered her sword, her expression softening with pride. “You’ve always been more capable than you realize. You just needed to believe it. I’m proud of you.”

Dragon stood tall, his Soulspear now fully transformed into a sleek, compact dagger, his hand relaxed around the hilt. “Thanks. I guess I’ve been pushing myself harder than I thought. But I’m getting there.”

Magik smiled and stepped forward, patting him on the back. “You’re not just getting there, Dragon. You’re surpassing your own expectations. Keep going.”

And for the first time in a long while, Dragon felt like he was truly mastering the power within him—no longer just relying on strength, but on the finesse and control that came from understanding his own limits and pushing past them. As they continued their training, it was clear that the bond between them, forged through countless battles and lessons, had only strengthened. And Dragon was ready for whatever came next.

Post-Training Conversation

The air in Limbo was thick with the aftereffects of their intense training session. Magik and Dragon stood amidst the ruined landscape, their breaths heavy but synchronized. The ground around them was scarred by the force of their battle, and the sky above them had shifted into a deeper shade of red as the sun began to set.

Magik wiped the sweat from her brow and looked over at Dragon, who was adjusting his Soulspear, now back in its normal form. There was a satisfaction in the way he moved, a confidence that hadn’t been there before. She’d seen him grow over the months they’d trained together, but today, he seemed like a different person. Stronger. Sharper.

Dragon glanced at her, sensing the shift in the air. He smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting a mix of pride and something else—something softer.

“I… I think I’m finally getting the hang of this,” Dragon said, his voice almost hesitant, but the confidence was undeniable.

Magik grinned and walked toward him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve been holding back for too long. Now, you’re finally embracing your full potential. It’s amazing, Dragon. I’m really proud of you.”

Dragon’s smile widened, and for a moment, he looked like he was trying to find the right words. Then, with a deep breath, he looked her square in the eye.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Magik,” he said. “I… Jeewon and I, we’re in a relationship now.”

Magik raised an eyebrow, but the surprise in her expression quickly shifted to something warmer—a knowing smile.

“You two finally figured it out, huh?” she said, her tone teasing but filled with warmth. “I could tell there was something between you both from the start. It was only a matter of time before you admitted it.”

Dragon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess we were both a little slow on the uptake. But after everything that’s happened—the battles, the training, the stuff we’ve both been through—it just felt right.”

Magik crossed her arms, her eyes softening as she looked at him. “You’ve come a long way, Dragon. I’m proud of you for more than just your fighting. You’ve grown as a person, too. And Jeewon… she’s a great girl. I’m glad you two found each other.”

Dragon’s expression softened, and there was a tenderness in his eyes that only those closest to him would notice. “She’s everything I needed, Magik. She grounds me in ways I didn’t know I needed. I’ve never felt this… at peace with someone before.”

Magik’s smile grew wider, and she uncrossed her arms to give him a light punch on the shoulder. “I think you’ve found a good match then. And from the way you’re talking, I’m pretty sure she feels the same.”

Dragon nodded, a quiet laugh escaping him. “Yeah. She’s… incredible. I just hope I can keep up with her.”

Magik’s gaze turned serious, her tone softening with the shift. “You don’t need to ‘keep up,’ Dragon. She’s with you because of who you are, not because you need to be anyone else. You’ve already proven that you’re more than enough.”

Dragon looked at her, a mix of gratitude and understanding in his eyes. “Thanks, Magik. It means a lot coming from you.”

Magik chuckled, clapping him on the back with a grin. “You better take care of her, though. She’ll turn you into a softie before you know it.” She winked at him playfully. “But I have no doubt you’ll do great. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Dragon smiled back, his heart light, and for the first time, he truly felt like everything was falling into place. With his powers, his training, and now Jeewon by his side, he knew there would be challenges ahead—but he was ready for them. He wasn’t alone anymore, and he had the confidence to face whatever the future held.

Magik’s smile faded into something more maternal as she turned to face him once more. “I’m proud of you, Dragon. Don’t ever forget how far you’ve come.”

“I won’t,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “And thank you, Magik. For everything.”

With that, they stood together in the silence of Limbo, the bonds of friendship and mentorship between them stronger than ever. Dragon’s journey was just beginning, but now, with Jeewon by his side and Magik’s support, he knew he was more than ready for what came next.

The evening was peaceful, the sunset painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Dragon and Jeewon sat together on a grassy hill, just outside the hustle and bustle of the city, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility after the chaos of the day. The distant sounds of nature filled the air, and Dragon couldn’t help but feel at ease with Jeewon by his side. They hadn’t had many moments like this lately, and it was comforting to feel her presence so close, without the threat of impending battle or their tumultuous past weighing heavily on them.

Jeewon leaned against him, a small smile on her face as they watched the sky change colors. “You know,” she began softly, her fingers tracing small circles on his arm, “this feels nice. Just us, no training, no fighting. It’s like we’re finally able to breathe again.”

Dragon sighed, his own smile mirroring hers. “Yeah, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this calm. It’s like everything’s falling into place for once.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing his arm gently. “You deserve this, Dragon.”

He leaned his head back against the soft grass, staring up at the sky. For a brief moment, he felt truly at peace—no battles, no expectations, just the quiet presence of someone he loved. But that peaceful moment was abruptly shattered when the sound of a loud crack echoed through the air, followed by a ripple in the atmosphere.

Dragon’s muscles tensed instantly, his senses heightened as he stood up. Jeewon, sensing his change in demeanor, stood quickly too, concern in her eyes.

“Dragon?” she asked, her voice quiet yet worried. “What’s happening?”

Before he could answer, a figure appeared on the horizon, walking slowly toward them. Dragon’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the familiar figure. His parents.

“Great,” Dragon muttered under his breath, stepping forward to face them. His parents, fierce and proud, stood there, their expressions unreadable. His mother, tall and elegant, and his father, more stoic, both exuded a kind of regal power. But their presence here, unannounced and unwelcome, signaled that something was about to go down.

“Dragon,” his mother spoke first, her voice cold but calm, “we need to have a word.”

Dragon crossed his arms, the annoyance in his posture evident. “What do you want?”

His father’s sharp gaze flicked toward Jeewon, noticing her presence. “And who is this?” he asked, his tone carrying an edge of disapproval.

Jeewon straightened up, standing firm beside Dragon. “I’m Jeewon,” she said, her voice steady. “And I’m here because I care about him. If you’ve come to start something, you’re wasting your time.”

Dragon’s father sneered slightly but didn’t address her further. Instead, he turned his focus back to Dragon. “You’ve been reckless, Dragon. Your outbursts, your uncontrolled power—this is unacceptable. You’re embarrassing our family.”

Dragon’s eyes darkened, the same familiar fury bubbling up inside him. “I’m not embarrassing anyone,” he retorted, his voice low but forceful. “I’m doing what needs to be done. What you never understood.”

His mother’s eyes glinted with a mix of disappointment and something darker. “Your power is a gift, Dragon. But if you continue down this path, we will be forced to put you in your place. You can’t just let your emotions control you.”

Dragon laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet evening. “You think you can control me? You think you can tell me what to do anymore?” He shook his head. “I’m done with that. I’m not a child anymore.”

Jeewon’s hand gently rested on his arm, a calming presence that Dragon was grateful for. But as much as he appreciated her support, he knew this wasn’t something he could avoid. His family had always expected him to conform to their rules, and now they were trying to assert that control again.

His father narrowed his eyes. “You will listen, Dragon. Or else—”

But before he could finish, Dragon’s posture shifted again, the rage building within him. His parents, sensing the change, stepped back slightly, their expressions tightening. They knew what was coming. What they didn’t expect was for Dragon to do something completely unexpected.

Without a word, Dragon’s powers flared. His eyes glowed as he summoned his mystic energy, the air around him vibrating with the intensity of his emotions. But there was no wild outburst, no rampage like they had witnessed before. Instead, he controlled it—calmed it. His aura crackled as he raised his hand and pointed it at his parents.

“I’m done being your puppet,” Dragon said through clenched teeth, his voice laced with power. “You don’t control me anymore. Not with your threats, not with your expectations. I’ve learned from people who actually care about me, not from fear and manipulation.”

His mother opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. Dragon’s father made a gesture as if to forcefully read his mind—but instead, his face twisted in confusion. His telepathic probe didn’t penetrate Dragon’s mind.

“Why… why can’t we—?” His father began, his voice tense.

Magik’s training had worked wonders. Dragon’s powers had grown beyond just his physical strength and mystic skills. The psychic barriers he had built over time were now reinforced by his mastery of the mystic arts. His mental defenses, strengthened by his training with Magik, were now impenetrable. The telepathic abilities that once might have had control over him were useless.

Dragon smirked, feeling an unexpected sense of triumph. “Your tricks don’t work on me anymore,” he said, his voice carrying a new authority. “You should have figured that out by now.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed in frustration, her mouth twitching with anger. “This isn’t over, Dragon. You will be dealt with, one way or another.”

But Dragon didn’t flinch. “I’m not going back to the way things were. I’ve made my own path now. And Jeewon,” he glanced over at her with a small, appreciative smile, “she’s part of it. So if you want to get in my way, you’ll have to go through me first.”

His father opened his mouth to respond, but his mother held up a hand, signaling that it was time to leave. She wasn’t going to waste any more energy on a lost cause.

With one final glare, they turned and walked away, their retreating figures disappearing into the distance.

Jeewon let out a quiet breath, looking up at Dragon with admiration and something else—something deep and genuine. “You were amazing back there.”

Dragon looked down at her, his expression softening. “Thanks. But I’m just getting started. This is me now. No one’s putting me back in a box.”

They stood there for a moment, the sun sinking lower in the sky, before Dragon turned to Jeewon. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got better things to do than deal with them.”

Jeewon smiled, nodding. “Lead the way.”

And with that, they walked away together, leaving the past and the pressure of family expectations behind them, ready to face whatever the future held as equals.

[ddlcbrainrot]

Oh my god i love natsuki so muchhhh

I can’t wait to hear those natsuki thoughts once you can finally spill them

So, before i start i’d like to say this is going to be just me spewing my thoughts like word vomit. I highly doubt this is going to have any cohesion whatsoever so I apologise in advance lol

The perception of Natsuki as a character is one that i think is deeply rooted in the person’s personal headcanons. The main reason for this is the lack of canon info about her home life, all we know is that it’s definitely not a pretty one and that’s it. There’s also not any mention of her mother, so it’s fair to say that her main parental figure is her dad. Because the most information we get about this subject is in Act 2, it’s hard to know how much is accurate and how much is amplified. So, people usually have different takes about how bad her home life is, varying from just a very strict father to a physically abusive one and so on. There is also only one mention of Natsuki’s dad in the side stories, in which it mostly paints the picture of a strict parent, not the physically abusive one we saw in Act 2. Then again, just because Natsuki doesn’t mention it doesn’t mean it isn’t a possibility

Why am I saying all of this instead of just talking about Natsuki? As stated, this very much changes ever so slightly Natsuki’s character to each person. So, I think that before I continue talking about Natsuki I should make clear what my view on her relationship with her father is. Personally, I’m more of the “strict father” group. More specifically, Natsuki’s father in my mind is that kind of parent that wants to be close with their kid but is never willing to put in the effort and then making her feel bad that they aren’t as close as he would like. Basically expecting Natsuki herself to carry the responsibility of their relationship all on her own. I think this makes sense considering how she interacts with her “friend” group in the side stories. It’s a kind of similar situation in which Natsuki is expected to just put in all the work and let them treat her as crappy as they feel like. You could argue that her friendships and her relationship with her father aren’t necessarily interconnected, but like, many abuse victims unconsciously look for similar dynamics in their relationships in order to feel secure. So, I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch for her arc in the side stories to be sort of a mirror of her home life.

Natsuki at her core is a person that longs for closeness but is too afraid to accept it. It’s obvious that her flawed view on how relationships should be makes her act the way she does. It’s kind of weird, because she seems very much in denial about how toxic the relationships in her life are but she is also aware that the way they treat her is kind of shitty because she tries her best to make sure she doesn’t act that way herself. She contradicts herself quite a lot actually, but that just adds to the realism of her character since most people contradict themselves all the time. Natsuki’s character has always felt very human to me, despite being the personification of the tsundere trope, and I couldn’t understand why until recently. And I finally figured it out. The main difference between her and the other versions i’ve seen of the tsundere trope is that her behaviour is not painted as a cute little quirk, but as an unlikable flaw. As much as I love her, she can be quite unlikable from time to time and that just adds so much depth to her character, because she is allowed to be mean and wrong and contradictory. Natsuki is unapologetically flawed, and I love that because most characters (especially female ones) are almost never allowed to

Anyway, I hope some of this made at least somewhat sense lol

[makeste]

BnHA Volume 35 - A Brief Reaction Journey

hello! so as mentioned in my last post, I’ve started catching up with the BnHA manga again FINALLY after almost two years, and have made it through a fair number of chapters so far! and since I’m not sure how long it will take me to actually post the corresponding liveblogs, I figured I’d make a couple of posts in the meantime to sort of preview my reaction journey thus far with some good old-fashioned OUT-OF-CONTEXT BULLET POINTS taken from my ramblings. originally I was going to make a single post for all 25 chapters I’ve read so far (up to 367), but I quickly realized that was waaaaay too ambitious lol. so for now it’s just this one, and I’ll put up the vol. 36 post probably tomorrow afternoon.

spoiler warning: just fyi, this post will obviously feature spoilers for chapters 342-350*, BUT it will also include some stray spoilers from chapters 362 and 403 as well, so just a heads up for that if you aren’t fully caught up!

*chapters 340 and 341 are not included because I've already posted full reaction posts for each one here and here, respectively.

Chapter 342

Endeavor being taller than Jeanist just feels so WRONG to me regardless of whether or not it is factually accurate. does this mean All Might is also taller than Jeanist?? I don’t want to live in a world where Best Jeanist has secretly been a perfectly normal sized person this entire time. someone please lie to me and tell me that he is tall

many thanks to Kacchan for inserting this small bit of levity into this scene which was otherwise well on its way to sending me into a SPIRAL OF FEELINGS, and in fact still is whenever I look at that panel of Deku with Eri and Kouta, and also that GODDAMN HUG WHERE HE AND INKO ARE BOTH CLEARLY AND PAINFULLY AWARE THAT THEY MIGHT NEVER SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, AND IN THAT MOMENT THEY’RE JUST TRYING TO HOLD THE OTHER AS TIGHTLY AS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE, AND SHE’S PRAYING TO WHATEVER DEITY IS OUT THERE THAT HE’LL COME BACK SAFE AND WHOLE, AND HE’S PRAYING THAT HIS MOM WILL BE ALL RIGHT EVEN IF HE DOESN’T COME BACK, AND NOT ALLOWING HIMSELF TO THINK ABOUT HOW MUCH HE ALREADY MISSES HER, BECAUSE HE CAN’T THINK LIKE THAT ANY MORE, BECAUSE THIS BOY IS FULLY GROWN NOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO BE, BECAUSE HE HAD NO CHOICE, AND I’M BOTH SO PROUD AND SO FUCKING SAD ABOUT IT AND I JUST NEED A MINUTE HERE ACTUALLY, OKAY!! OR FIVE MINUTES!!

LMAO WHAT AN AUSPICIOUS AND NOT-AT-ALL OMINOUSLY FOREBODING NAME. “hmmm what should we name our new class 1-A fortress?” “hmm well I was thinking maybe Troy, after the legendary city with the famously impenetrable walls, which to the best of my knowledge were never breached, or at least that’s what I assume since I never finished reading The Iliad! :) :) :) ...wait, why are you all looking at me like that. they didn’t actually breach them, right? guys? what happened to Troy? GUYS?”

I’m actually so proud of Deku because he’s come such a long way from the days when the mere CONCEPT of even TALKING to a girl was enough to floor him lol. but also I’m legit cracking up at he way he tried to segue into random small talk in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse. gotta be smooth about it!! casual!! you can tell how casual they are because both of them are suddenly struck by the inexplicable urge to fuss with their hair!!

Horikoshi really said “FUCK YOUR SQUADS!! ...but if we had a Todosquad this is who would be in it I guess”

my god. between this and the OchaDeku conversation the villains truly do not stand a chance do they? and they don’t even know how screwed they are yet. REDEMPTION IS COMING!! IT’S KNOCKING ON THE DOOR, TRICK OR TREAT, Y’ALL READY FOR THIS

Chapter 343

so we’re opening with everyone’s favorite Guy With An Old Wad Of Chewing Gum For A Face, AFO!

did this son of a bitch kill Nao’s dad and steal his sexy lie-detector quirk??

sob AFO is all “can I have your son’s cell phone number please” and they’re all “SURE”

bonsoir little Yuuga

do. ...do you not actually know. was this meeting not prearranged. “why are you here Aoyama?” “why are you here, Deku?” truly, why are any of us here??

I’m sitting here trying to play the “guess which parts of this dialogue are real vs fake” game and coming up completely stumped on every single sentence

so Yuuga’s all “can you believe that even though the city of Musutafu is basically down to just U.A., a Dollar Tree, a couple of crumbling park benches, and one very determined Starbucks, we somehow still have functioning courts and lawyers?” I actually can’t believe that at all tbh. you’re telling me “it’s the fucking apocalypse” is still not a good enough excuse to get out of jury duty

damn, Aoyama out here with the trash talk and the ON YOUR LEFT?!

MONOMA??!?!?!?!

Chapter 344

“Eraser’s” plan, indeed. you dare say that right to Kaminari’s face

SHINSOU!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

HEYA YOURSELF YOU HANDSOME KNAVE!! LOOK AT YOU!! fucking loving the costume my dude! pretty please tell us your hero name to go along with it. is it MindCraft. I think your hero name should be MindCraft. don’t look at me like that Shinsou we need more punny hero names in the world

“yes well you see, I couldn’t do it, so I learned how to do it.” great story Shinsou

the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck there. are we gonna get some real Monoma character development at long last. feels like it’s long overdue and I am thrilled. he’s such a great character and I feel like we’ve only barely scratched the surface of who he actually is as a person and as a hero

THE UNEXPECTED VLAD KING MENTORSHIP WITH THE ARM AROUND THE SHOULDERS?? he really needed that support. outwardly he’s always made a big show of wanting his turn in the spotlight and begrudging class A for stealing the scene at every turn. but how much of that is really just an act. some of it? most of it? maybe even close to all of it? because right now he suddenly seems so small and young here and really wishing he wasn’t in this unenviable position of being one of the many World’s Last Hopes who are all way too fucking young

did Mirko’s giant robot hand just grow into an EVEN GIANTER giant robot hand??

long beautiful flowing mermaid hair. sorry what was I saying I kind of spaced out there for a sec

YES, AFO, ALL OF THIS TO SPLIT YOU UP YOU STUPID MUSH HEAD. MAYBE IF YOU EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED A MANGA IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE YOU’D KNOW HOW A FINAL BATTLE IS SUPPOSED TO BE CONSTRUCTED. YOU MOLDY AVOCADO

Chapter 345

“no you don’t understand, we have so many sixteen-year-olds whose coattails we’re all hanging onto. we have sixteen-year-olds who can take over people’s minds. sixteen-year-olds who can create portals to warp you halfway around the world in an instant. and let’s not forget the sixteen-year-olds who can act their damn asses off. we have the best sixteen-year-olds in the world. our sixteen-year-olds are so much better than yours you fucking losers”

Deku I swear. if I’m about to discover that the reason you weren’t there to stop Kacchan from being literally, actually, canonically murdered is because your distracted ass got yoinked into the void by some no-name villain chucklefuck, I’m gonna...

don’t listen to him Aoyama you were magnificent. you were my favorite in all of the stage plays

BUT IS PHASE TWO SUPPOSED TO INVOLVE DEKU IN ANY WAY THOUGH??? HELLO??? IS ANYONE LISTENING TO ME??? I’M FROM THE FUTURE AND THIS IS URGENT, PLEASE

“I fucked up Ochako, I fucked up so bad” omfg Deku

she doesn’t want to hurt you Deku she just wants to shower you in love. in her own special way. by stabbing you a lot

anyway have fun on this... tropical island??? I guess?? Kacchan will just have to hold down the fort in the meantime. which I’m sure will go absolutely fine

Chapter 346

“th-th-this is really bad, right?” yes Tamaki, yes it is. you’re stuck here on the Super Mega Ultra Radical Gnarly Cracked-Out Wonder Stage with Shigaraki Fucking Tomura and at least two of you are about to die and I’M NOT OKAY

so now we’re also getting this hilarious insight into the inner workings of the Mega Ultra Tremendous Stupendous Incredible Sky Coffin and it is truly, truly phenomenal

Horikoshi stop taking my sarcastic jibes and owning them completely challenge!! all the best sixteen-year-olds. all the finest greatest Hyper Ultra Sparkle Glimmer Wonder Battle Stages

this is genuinely one of the boldest lampshading efforts I have ever seen in fiction you guys

“yes, we acknowledge that this does indeed seem impossible to have pulled off, BUT have you considered that, fucking quirks though???? AND THAT THEY ARE, AS THE KIDS SAY, WILD??”

Chapter 347

lmao they’re shouting at Monoma accusingly and he’s all “I’M HAVEN’T BLINKED AT ALL YOU GUYS I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU”

don’t mind him, he’s just out here growing out his hideously malformed hands and fingers endlessly from every part of his body, normally, as one does. nothing quirk-related about it. anyone could do this if they simply exercise and maintain a balanced diet. this 100% is not a quirk y’all it’s just essential oils

SUDDEN MONOMA FEELS DELIVERED TO MY DOORSTEP???

awwww. the way he’s almost panicked, frantically wondering if he somehow fucked the quirk up and desperate for Aizawa to believe him that he’s trying his best. and Aizawa quick to reassure him. this kid is so desperate for approval. and unapologetically careening his way onto my top ten character list, welcome dear boy

so that’s that. see you in two years Deku. his last words spoken out loud to Kacchan were, and I quote, “wha --”

Aizawa is so hopelessly impossibly hot at all times and I don’t know how the universe can handle his existence. he’s even doing it without activating his quirk now. no ponytails or anything. just an eyepatch and a dream

don’t mind me, I’m just out here doing literal algebra to figure out how long it would take Deku to get back here if he traveled at the same speed as All Might did in chapter 90 (30 seconds per 5km, apparently). about 20 minutes, give or take. well shit. hopefully he’s a little faster than Kamino-era All Might was, especially since he can fly and has that Fa Jin shit too. or maybe Rody can fly him lmao. or S&S’s hot fighter pilot boyfriend

“what’d Sensei say, Deku?” “he said no, looks like I gotta uber. can I borrow your credit card, I promise I will venmo you back”

unfortunately for Deku he does not realize he’s accidentally gotten himself caught up in what will undoubtedly end up being the most erotic and bisexual of the various final battles

can’t believe Deku has like 6 love interests and out of all of them, Toga is the first one who actually asks him out. good for you girl. gotta shoot your shot

Chapter 348

FELLAS IS IT GAY TO BREAK OUT INTO TERRIFIED BEN DAY DOTS BECAUSE A GIRL EXPRESSED HER CARNAL INTEREST IN YOU????

anyway so since Deku apparently doesn’t understand how romance works either, he’s trying his best to give an actual response by recontextualizing all of this in terms of the one big thing he does understand: All Might

you’re telling me you never wanted to stab All Might to death and then turn into him?? wow I just can’t believe it

but also... okay lol. so I was thinking about this sarcastically, but was then struck by the very unironic thought that there sorta kinda is someone whom Deku does, both consciously and subconsciously, try to be like, and who he also kinda does apparently share the same heart and mind as. at least if chapter 403 is anything to go by lol. soooooooo. huh

god damn it Toga. absolutely none of what you’ve said or done here has been even the SLIGHTEST BIT reasonable. you can’t just tell someone you want to stab them and be their girlfriend. and if and when they try to let you down easy by responding with the MOST THOUGHTFUL AND GENTLE REJECTION ANYONE COULD EVER POSSIBLY MAKE UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES, because they’re actually the WORLD’S NICEST MAN, you can’t just respond by doing whatever it is you’re presumably about to do, which I’m guessing is gonna be really violent and unhinged

so Ochako is all “ever since we fought last time I’ve been thinking about you a lot!” and Toga is all “are you serious, YOU broke up with ME bitch” and now she’s standing behind her with a knife

“she’s the least predictable of our opponents” YEAH NO KIDDING LOL

“everyone knows that Toga is actually Ochako’s villain, like ffs Deku you haven’t even interacted with her since the Provisional Exam arc.” Deku they’re 100% right and you’re looking more and more the fool with each passing second

well all right lol. twenty minutes to get back to Musutafu. let’s just hope he doesn’t run into any traffic on the way

Chapter 349

what the fuck is OFA Dos’s quirk exactly and are we ever gonna get to it before I literally die of old age. at this point there’s gotta be a reason why he’s not using it, right?? so what’s the deal there? does he still somehow not know how? is it too dangerous? and I really need to know why II has the Bakugou gauntlets. tell me this isn’t one of the things we’re still waiting on answers for two years down the line because I swear to god I will cry

anyway so Deku’s saying he’s doing his best but he’s still “too slow”. WELL THEN MAYBE IT’S THAT TIME?? DEKU?? WHAT DO YOU SAY

NO FUCKING WAY LOL, CAN IT REALLY BE THAT EASY??!

OH WHAT THE FUCK, FUCK YOU NOT!CCHAN LOL YOU’RE JUST HERE TO COCKBLOCK HIM?

fuck. so has he used it since then?? is he gonna use it finally now that Kacchan’s alive and well again?? oh my god I need to shut up and stop asking questions and just keep reading. fuck

wow so Dabi’s literally just burning the All Might statue while he stalls for time trying to figure out how to beat his OP little brother who was literally engineered to be better than him sob. out of all the villains he’s probably the most screwed right now isn’t he

starting to get an inkling Dabi’s not happy that he doesn’t actually get to fight Endeavor. getting some subtle hints here and there that he might actually be upset about that

apparently wanting to fight Dabi and stop him from helping to destroy the world makes Shouto a pawn. wake up Shouto. stop being such a sheep, Shouto. can’t you see that saving the world is exactly what Endeavor wants you to do???!

this is just going to be seventeen chapters of Dabi talking about nonsense while they both stand around progressively getting hotter both literally and metaphorically isn’t it

Chapter 350

OH SNAP. [SLAMS HAND ON TABLE] HERE WE GO. IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME

well, well, well. to the surprise of absolutely no one. the real one who was responsible for everything this whole time

but I just have to pause real quick before we continue. because it absolutely cannot be a coincidence that AFO just happened to be there once again. just waiting in the shadows to magically swoop in the minute disaster strikes. and so, just like with baby Tenko, this immediately makes me suspect that Touya burning himself alive was not in fact a training accident at all. which is something I did not expect, and which, just. fuck, fuck, FUCK AFO. fuck this guy.

looks like the children's ward of a hospital?? wait, what??

how the fuck is he still so adorable. when exactly did the transition take place between adorable and sexily unhinged. right now Todoroki Touya still looks to be the absolute most adorable child on the planet

I miscalculated. I was not emotionally prepared to handle this chapter right now. I should not have clicked

really love to see that Touya didn’t just cave right away. wouldn’t have felt right, ngl. just doesn’t fit in with what we know about his character

oh shit wait we’re cutting back to Dabi talking to Shouto and he says he did come back home??

fucking why. goddammit what the hell. why is this the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever read. LOVE HIM!! SOMEONE!! ANYONE!! just love him, please. literally all he has ever wanted!!

JESUS. I HATE THIS. I am so upset right now. out of all of the horrific and traumatic and terrible, awful things that have happened to BnHA characters in their flashbacks, the thing that hits me the most out of all of them is this one image of a sixteen-year-old boy standing before an altar, with his family very much alive and standing RIGHT FUCKING THERE IN THE NEXT ROOM, and yet somehow feeling more alone than he’s ever been. so alone he literally gives up all hope in this one moment. my god I feel all of it and it’s so fucking devastating I keep having to stop typing so I don’t completely break down sobbing

well damn. after a rush of 15 and 13-page chapters, which were all admittedly appreciated by me in my race to catch up to Light Fades to Rain before this coming Friday, Horikoshi finishes up the volume with one hell of a 17 page finale. once again the Tododrama delivers. this was fucking phenomenal

[cleavetheclover]

Clver, think about it...shadowire (platonic or romantic) domestic fluff,,, or just fluff,,, angsty fluff? ps this is just my sleep deprived ramblings

Like...

- Post Hourglass Omen being found by Cypher (probably willingly i don't see Cypher going to go see Omen if he'd rather not see Cypher) and just...a talk. Omen venting. Cypher comforting Omen and listening quietly. And then cuddles. A kiss when Cypher leaves Omen be again and an orange, "for luck," Cypher would say (knowing it had no such meaning)

- Pre Hourglass, Omen coming to see Cypher at night, cuddles and physical intimacy mixed with quietness, because if nothing else Over feels just a little more grounded when Cypher is holding him.

- Cypher noticing little quirks Omen has. Sometimes Cypher tells Omen about what he's noticed. Omen enjoys it because it at least means he's still human if nothing else. (I mean, what kind of monster has a preferred sitting position or a certain kind of wool they enjoy knitting the most?)

- Above, but roles exchanged. Omen notices things about Cypher that makes him Cypher and some that makes Amir. It's weird, Cypher thinks, I'd hate being known but it feels natural with Omen. (Inspired mostly by hermit card, which normally means like being known by no one but yourself)

ehh welp thas all i got in the brain goodnight I'm by no means asking you to draw any of these i just saw your ask thingy and went "bet lemme think"

Noooooo stop I stg every single member of the cyphmen community has the exact same headcannons please 😭😭😭

(Not that I’m complaining, that just means more food for all of us)

ANYWAY all of these are wonderful ideas and I definitely want to write all of them!!! Unfortunately I am rather swamped right now bc senior design is kicking my ass and job hunting is harder than ranking up in val, and my current hyperfixation is a game called Noita…

But I’ll definitely get back to writing as soon as my life stops being as volatile as a bucket of acetone.

Also I wrote a short thing for the hourglass thing I hope you like it! I’ll respond to the other prompts later

Post hourglass Omen:

I think he would shut himself in his room for a while and just sit there, completely overwhelmed and not sure where to go or what to do next.

Since it’s cannon that Omen can sense others emotions, I think pre-HG Omen would have already sensed a timid friendship and significant fear from Viper, but it wasn’t until post-HG that he knows why. He’s having this world-shattering realization that one of the few people he has trusted and befriended in this lifetime not only doesn’t return that friendship, but actively fears him, and for good reason.

Imagine learning that your best friend fears you, for an incident you would have never learned of—had you not hired a shady information broker to find it out for you.

Confirming that she sees you as a monster— something you never wanted to be.

Yeah, I’d be pretty lost and upset too.

So Omen is gonna be hiding in his room trying to figure out a path forward and simultaneously avoid thinking about said path forward.

Cypher, being the nosiest man alive, a friend of Omen’s, and also the guy who helped orchestrate the mission in the first place, is not gonna sit there and let Omen feel so alone.

He shows up and Omen really wants to just slam the door and tell him to fuck off, but he really doesn’t have the energy (and also can’t really afford to burn more bridges at the moment). So begrudgingly he lets him in.

Cypher softly says his name, “Omen,” but the shadow doesn’t dare look him in the eye. Instead he stares at the sentinel’s belt. Browth leather. Battle-worn. Probably replaced several times over, like Omen’s own combat gear.

The sentinel approaches, and Omen can feel a protective sentiment befitting his role as a Sentinel. It’s soothing, he’s felt it before, but he really wishes he weren’t the subject of such a keen emotion right now.

Cypher’s gloved hands come up to rest on the sides of his own shoulders. The intent is to be reassuring, but Omen doesn’t find it to be such. What is he supposed to do with his own hands, anyhow? Touch Cypher’s shoulders? His belt, or chest?? His waist???

Well, the chest option is gone, because the next thing he knows Cypher’s chest is pressed against his own. And his arms are wrapped around his back.

Omen always knew humans were warm, but for some reason, he had always imagined Cypher to be cold. Maybe it was the utter lack of skin showing. The minimal expressions in his mask. The way he never so much as brushed hands with anyone else in the Protocol, as if he were a robot like KAY/O. Hell, the literal killer-bot had a warmer attitude than Cypher most of the time. Maybe it was…

Whatever.

Cypher is warm. Like any other human. Embracing him without any reservations at all.

No fear. No pity. No grief.

It makes him feel like, for one moment, that maybe he isn’t a monster after all.

Omen responds in the only way he can think of: he ducks his head down and buries his face in Cypher’s collar, and lifts his hands up to Cypher’s back and pulls him as close as he can.

He smells like bar soap and leather. And something else more organic, musky almost like sweat, but that can only be described as subtle and pleasant.

Alas, their embrace cannot last forever. Poor Cypher is a man, not a scented candle or a stuffed animal that can be basked in or embraced forever. Omen releases him, already missing the warmth and the scents and the textures and the intimacy, but he would rather save face and keep Cypher comfortable than anything else.

Cypher seems… satisfied.

Omen isn’t sure how he feels.

There’s a long pause.

“I am not my past,” he blurts, immediately wishing he didn’t. He almost says something else to brush it away, but he knows that doing so will only dig a deeper hole for himself. He says nothing more and hopes Cypher will have the courtesy to do the same.

But the Sentinel, as always, has other plans.

“Neither am I.”

Omen’s gaze snaps up at that.

The Sentinel then reaches into a bag of items that he had discarded upon entering, and produces a ball of yarn and a small tin box.

“I have spent the last decade of my life paying for crimes too heinous to be named.” He comes to stand in front of Omen once again. “They called me everything from a villain to a monster to, well. ‘Villain’ and ‘monster’ in more callous terms.”

Cypher chuckled humorlessly. Omen dared not ask who ‘they’ was referring to, but got the feeling that he didn’t need to.

“I am not absolved from my past. I cannot fix the innumerable lives I have ruined or the things I have destroyed.”

Then he lifted the little tin up to his face. “But then again, what kind of monster has a favorite type of tea?”

In his other hand, outstretched to Omen, was the ball of yarn. “Or a favorite type of wool?”

Omen just stared at it. Cashmere imported from India, said the label.

“To the best of my ability— which admittedly isn’t much— I left it all behind.” Cypher somberly bushes the tips of gloved fingers across his masked cheek. “My name. My face. My skin, even.”

Omen tilted his head at that last one. It sounded painful. But then again, what about Cypher’s existence wasn’t?

“Like me, you might carry the legacy of a monster. But that does not mean you are one.”

The cashmere is soft in Omen’s hands. He runs his thumb along each strand, marveling in the gift. On its own, it didn’t feel deserved. But when he looks back sees the tin of tea being cradled in Cypher’s own hands, it does.

Former monsters sitting under a warm roof with their silly little domestic joys: the thought of it almost makes Omen laugh.

Cypher must have seen the way the tension eased from Omen’s shoulders, because now he is chuckling too.

Bastard.

“Omen,” the informant takes the revenant’s hand and says his name with that dratted melody of affection in his voice, “Would you like to knit while I brew us some tea?”

———————————————

Since you suggested an orange:

It’s a very cute idea— I think oranges are for luck and wealth in Chinese culture, not sure about other ones tho.

Unfortunately I’ve come to kind of associate them with mourning. My grandma passed away last summer, and my grandpa and I leave flowers and oranges on her gravestone when we visit. So I didn’t feel like writing that into this little story lol

And yeah I also incorporated your “what kind of monster has a favorite kind of wool?” Thing in here wahoo

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

By music! Question, I was looking for a Drabble you wrote and post, I think it was a WIP about havenfall is for family, about hisashi’s will and how Izuku wouldn’t get anything if he transition or something and I was wondering if you could help me find it?

Inko had been the first to fall for Hisashi’s charm but she hadn’t been the last by far. Sitting in the small police station that Sherriff Hunt had escorted her, Izuku and Mr. Smith to, she figured Martha probably hadn’t been the last either.

“It fits his usual antics.” Inko said tiredly. “The only reason I stuck around was because he’d actively sabotaged my college career and had a lot of money. Leaving would have ruined me even with evidence of him cheating which three of his girlfriends had given me.”

“A real piece of work,” Sherrif Hunt said in disgust. She paused to look at Izuku who was lost in his own world with Inko’s phone and headphones.

“He’s looking up local heroes.” Inko explained. Hunt looked interested, eyes twinkling.

“Really? Does he know any English? My Japanese is rusty, and I’d like to talk about heroes.”

“He knows a fair amount.” Inko smiled as the sherriff easily drew Izuku away. Far enough he couldn’t hear but close enough Inko could see. She was a good woman, Inko could tell.

“Alright so, Hisashi left you and Izuku everything,” Mr. Smith didn’t beat around the bush. “His funeral was last week, but you didn’t come due to…”

“Izuku’s classmates thought it would be funny to push him down the stairs and he broke his arm and leg,” Inko said shortly. The lawyer stared at her in open mouth shock. Inko noticed that the Sherrif seemed to have stiffened briefly to. Enhanced hearing probably. “One of the parents at least felt bad enough to get a relative with a healing Quirk in but it took a while.”

“Oh…” Mr. Smith swallowed. “Okay, so, it makes sense why you’re staying here for a while.”

“Just a few years to handle Hisashi’s affairs so I can arrange to move to a new place in Japan. The house he and his mother lived in is still good, correct?” Inko asked.

“It is.” Mr. Smith nodded. He made a note on some paper he’d taken from his briefcase. “Izuku will inherit a large sum as long… as…” he trailed off. Inko sighed.

“Izuku declared he was a boy when he was four and I never denied him that. Perhaps he’s a little to young for it, I don’t know. Don’t ask me how gender works. I don’t see any harm in letting him explore pronouns and his identity. Maybe he’ll decide otherwise.” Inko sighed. “What did Hisashi put?”

“Izuku cannot go on hormone blockers and has to have a kid.”

“That sounds illegal.” Inko said instantly.

“It actually is thanks to certain laws in Japan.” Mr. Smith told her. “Here in the states it’s still legal so I believe he thought he could do that. However as most of his assets are in Japan…”

“He couldn’t.” Inko let out a breath of relief. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Told him Japanese law makes that condition null but he ignored me.” Mr. Smith shrugged. “Not my problem.” The rest of the meeting was just discussing the assets. It was a fair amount of money, enough Inko could go back to college herself to finally get that literature degree she’d always wanted and not work until Izuku was in his teens. And Izuku could be well off as an adult himself. And that was just the liquid assets.

“How many houses did he have?” Inko wondered. There were four in America and two in Japan. Along with multiple sets of art and other goods. “Please tell me he wasn’t a villain.”

“Oh no, just shady,” Mr. Smith said. The meeting continued with Inko agreeing to have some companies clean out the houses and sell them, including the ones in Japan as Inko wanted to arrange a new home for her and Izuku. Without memories of her ex-husband.

Some days were better then others concerning him. She missed the man she thought he’d been; the funny and kind man who swept her off her feet when she was young. Who took her dancing and who promised to love her.

The cracks had appeared when she was twenty-five but she didn’t fully notice them until she was pregnant. When Hisashi knew she wouldn’t leave, because she didn’t have a job or any education. Izuku became her whole world and he used it against her.

Inko would never regret her son. Izuku was her pride and joy, a beautiful little boy. But Hisashi knew what buttons to press. It just got worse when Izuku got his diagnosis.

(She hated that word. Diagnosis, like being Quirkless was a terminal illness meant to kill him. It wouldn’t kill Izuku.

Society would. It already tried when he got shoved down the stairs. It tried when Inko had to fight to get anyone to care. When Mitsuki tried to convince Inko that Katsuki had nothing to do with it, when the woman was so obtuse to her son’s actions that she ignored Inko’s worry. When Mitsuki kept defending Katsuki even when proof came out.

When Inko tried to believe Katsuki apologized only to find Izuku sobbing because the blonde had burned Izuku’s arm due to ‘making auntie side against him’. Inko told Katsuki off and she realized how little anyone had seen her son as a person.

All highly illegal and Inko walked away after setting the police on Aldera and the Bakugou family. She blocked them all.)

Inko hadn’t been a saint when she’d learned Izuku didn’t have a Quirk. She’d gone through the motions and had a pity party until she snapped out of it when Izuku came home with tears in his eyes because he got told by a teacher he’d end up on a street corner.

He was five. Inko hated it took that single act of cruelty to wake her up. Hisashi hadn’t been woken up, but he’d been decent enough to keep up the facade.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Quirk Counsellor Things

Cause, like, it’s still pinging around in my brain, I have more ideas!

So like. I think I said before my headcanon is that Quirk Counsellors popped up in the wake of Quirks emerging as less a “let’s help you figure this shit out” and more of a way to identify an emerging threat. All the initial Quirk Counsellors were government agents, just writing down their findings and submitting them to the government. But they couldn’t really keep up with demand, so they started hiring whoever they could find. And because the goal here is registration, who cares about credentials? Can you write? Are you capable of basic observational skills? Congrats! You qualify for the job! And while society has changed in the three hundred something years since, the job really hasn’t, which is why so many Quirks are classed so weird. These people are still using a three century old classification system, that was put together in a hurry, not to classify people, but weapons.

So, here’s a fun thing I thought of! People with mutation Quirks? They don’t usually see Quirk Counsellors! Hear me out!

So, my basic idea is, it is a government mandate that, upon manifesting a Quirk, you are required by law to have at least six months worth of Quirk Counselling sessions, let’s say one a week. That’s roughly 32 sessions. Sometimes more are recommended, if your Quirk is particularly finicky or volatile, but it isn’t required beyond the initial sessions. These initial sessions are where they are supposed to test your Quirk, find its limits, figure out if it will impact your health, stuff like that. But one hour a week over six months isn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things. That’s about a day and a Half’s worth of time. And Even with however many Quirk Counsellors there are, the good ones are overworked, the bad ones just don’t care, and again, most are government workers. They just do not have the time. And remember, no matter how much things have changed, the goal hasn’t - this isn’t “help” it’s “identify a threat”. So, how does this connect? Well, what’s an easy way to decrease the work load? What Quirks don’t really need much help being identified? What about physical mutation Quirks, that people are born with?

Cause another head canon I have is that, a majority of Mutation Quirks? People are just born with them. 

Not all! But most, yeah, I’d think they were born that way! Ojiro, Tokoyami, Shouji, Spinner, Kouda, Mina - I see them all born looking that way. And so, when they’re born, their doctors would be the ones to write it down - part of their job would be to keep track of manifesting Quirks, so you can note on someone’s medical record when said Quirk emerged. You’re mandated to go for six months within a month or two of the manifestation, but who is going to Counsel a baby? Plus, The doctors would also do all the “how this affects their health” thing already. So they are already registered as having Quirks, and are not required to see a Quirk Counsellor unless they manifest a secondary Quirk later. It might also work into a prejudice against people with Mutation Quirks! Cause seeing a Quirk Counsellor, being a government mandate, is covered by said government! It’s a form of health care, probably comes with other resources! And by saying Mutation Quirks are already registered, unless they manifest a secondary Quirk, you are preventing a bunch of people from accessing resources they might need!

So, Ojiro and Tokoyami never went to a Counsellor! For Ojiro, with his family, he did alright! His grandad helped him figure out his tail for martial arts, his family as a whole had enough money to figure out clothes and such. But CC!Tokoyami would never have gone, cause he only has the bird-head thing, right? But he has a secondary Quirk that NO ONE knows about, because no one ever felt the need to test and see if he had one! Spinner probably never went to one either, would he be mad about that?

Also! I talked before about Quirk Counsellors naming your Quirk for you? That’s another part of the classification thing! Cause like. The names they give Quirks are the equivalent of naming a weapon, or a specific type of ammunition. It’s what they write down on the paperwork they submit. The names aren’t meant to be “cool” or whatever, they’re meant to be descriptive enough to a government stooge that they can guess at a glance what they do! Like, some Counsellors these days might let the people have input, but for the most part, they have all the power there, which can be bad! 

Like, Shinso? Somebody named his Quirk “Brainwashing”, when it’s actually closer to something like Hypnosis. But Brainwashing sounds much more impressive. What do you want to bet some idiot Counsellor wanted on his record that he identified a “powerful” Quirk, when he put down that name? Who cares that the negative connotations of the word “Brainwashing” mean you probably just painted a massive target on this kid? Not like he has rich parents to sue and have the name changed!

(thought?)

-

Honestly I can go either way on how mandatory Quirk Counseling is.

Because yeah personally I think that it’d be rare for kids to really be recommended more counseling outside of the base ‘let’s make sure you can control your ability to an extent so you don’t destroy the house’.

Especially when it’s government employees more looking into ‘will this child one day be a threat?’.

Though yeah Mutation Quirks would often get jack all in terms of counseling like. Okay yeah sure you have a bird head not much to do there. Take it up with your doctor, dentist, and/or vet.

And GOD like.

Yeah the ‘Counselor’ having near total control over how the Quirk is percieved! Shinso may have had an easier time if his Quirk was called something else!