#quirk biology

[stillness-in-green]

AFO is a victim of the biological determinism of his own quirk--like Toga, but moreso.  But damned if I could tell you how the greater narrative about Hero Society and inequality benefits from that. 👀 oh??

Ahaha, well, that's more a "looking for Watsonian answers to Doylist questions" theory than one I'm ready to seriously declare for, BUT.  It is a theory I've had at the back of my mind for somewhere in the neighborhood of two years now, since I first brought it up in discussion with a friend. 

It's largely a theory aimed at addressing why All For One is Like That, beyond a handwave of, "He was just born Like That.  You know—a monster."  I'd say there are two main parts—the biological determinism, and the vestige mechanics.

Hit the jump!

Firstly, we know that people can be influenced by their quirk.  The standard bearer is, of course, Toga, whose quirk gives her an innate attraction to blood that her trying to suppress for a decade eventually led to tragedy.  She's an extreme case, but Re-Destro makes the observation as well, that there is a connection between one's personality and one's quirk.  Think of something like Bakugou's explosive personality, or La Brava's stalker tendencies.

Re-Destro obviously overstates somewhat; there are plenty of characters whose personality and quirk seem to have no notable connection (say Tamaki for example), as well as characters who seem to have a personality that matches their quirk, but may also just be playing up that personality up as part of their social persona (Present Mic).  Still, it wouldn’t be very hard to read a certain amount of compulsion into AFO. There's even some decent evidence for it, in AFO's interactions with the Pussycats!

I could also see his compulsion being—let’s say, enabled by whatever his and Yoichi’s circumstances demanded of him back when they were young.  In such a dangerous world, with the social order having completely broken down, what was he supposed to do?  Just lie down and let them both be trampled over because, without using his quirk, he was as defenseless as his brother? Not likely!

Of course, him telling himself it’s for his and Yoichi’s sake as an excuse for doing what he wants to do anyway doesn’t excuse his many crimes, no more than Toga’s compulsion and family circumstances excuse hers.  Also too, whatever faux-altruism he might once have claimed, he’s clearly long shaken it off by now.  It’s always been notable to me, though, that he did once try to make excuses for his actions.  In the OFA dream flashbacks, he talked about bringing order to a world gone mad; he framed giving and taking quirks in exchange for favors explicitly as a middle ground he was graciously taking between just stockpiling all the quirks he liked and not bothering with social networking at all versus using his quirk only for the sake of others and asking nothing in return.

He’d clearly already gone full-tilt megalomaniac even then, but all the Demon Lord talk was much more vague, only coming up at the tail end of the dream, and only in the form of a stray reference to, “that comic you used to read.”  That was all likely over a century ago, though, and a hundred years is a lot of time to go all-in on the evil overlord thing, especially after his brother was no longer around to make justifications to, and especially after being defeated by All Might.

Secondly, as regards the vestige mechanics, we know that carrying too many quirks can cause mental breakdowns, even catatonia.  AFO, of course, has some natural resistance to this due to the nature of his quirk, but how much resistance does he have?  Particularly given what we now know about quirks having vestiges, what’s the effect on AFO of spending over a hundred years filling up his hind brain with other peoples’ voices, instincts, memories and wills?  How much can we really say that the present AFO much resembles the person Shigaraki Yoichi’s older brother once was?

To be clear, I don't think this idea is very well-supported by the canon.  As far as the story as we have it is concerned, AFO has just been bad news from the start, at least until Yoichi condescends to tell Deku any different.  Likewise, AFO is clearly capable of being discerning about which quirks he takes and which he doesn’t; he further doesn’t seem to have any reluctance to giving quirks away if it suits his needs.  So I don’t think “biological compulsion” is a thing that has a strong sway over him, and any claims he makes that suggest otherwise (as in the images above) are just him being a big chortling sophist.

In terms of “how I’d treat it if I were to write the fanfic,” however, I think it would be interesting to treat All for One (the quirk) as something of an addiction meeting an addictive personality. To wit, AFO was always going to be susceptible to his quirk’s influence, but once he started using it, his ability to resist the impulse eroded further and further over time.  The same thing happened to his mentality—as he fell farther and farther, he threw away the excuses he once relied on and just embraced his hedonistic desire to possess.

As to how this fits the overarching themes of HeroAca?  Well, I don’t really think it does.  For starters, it would have required a take on Deku and One For All that was much less simplistic than the one we wound up with.  If the narrative had really leaned into the idea of OFA as a “cursed” power, if Deku had run into much more serious opposition from the previous bearers over his “save Shigaraki” notion, that would have paralleled an AFO who was ultimately a slave to his own desires better. 

(I’d also want that version of the story to examine All Might’s “Pillar” ideal and his decision to pass OFA forward even after he seemingly defeated AFO. Have Deku question how much of those decisions were really Toshinori Yagi’s and how much were the influence of One For All seeking to propagate itself forward and transform its bearer into a selfless vessel for service, a literal "One" to serve "All," regardless of the pain endured by the vessel. Look, too, at All Might's paternalism, of his and Deku's tendency to deny other people their say in what burdens they would choose to shoulder! There's so much interesting you could do with OFA if it weren't so damned idealized.)

The story we have, though, isn't a psychological horror about subverted identity hiding in the skin of an optimistic shonen action comic. It's about the impact of superpowers on society at large, about structural complacency, quirk-based prejudice, the correct actions of those who have power and those who lack it, about legacy and about what is meant by terms like “winning” and “saving.”  I think quirks with compulsive underpinnings like Toga’s are an important facet of that story, but shouldn’t be the explanation for the man shaping up to be the ultimate face of The Opponent The Main Characters Must Overcome.

Thanks for your interest, anon!  Other anon(?) who asked about the AFO Retcon Theory, that one’s going to take a bit longer, but I will do my best to get it put together in a reasonably timely fashion.

[dedicatedfollower467]

speaking of megamind and weird alien anatomy, i was looking through some of my old headcanon doodles yesterday

i realized that one of my concepts was that instead of megamind's head actually housing an enormous brain (which irl would cost an ENORMOUS amount of energy to maintain with diminishing returns), he actually has a fairly human-ish sized brain.

instead, his skull is somewhat concave and most of the flesh in his forehead is actually adipose tissue similar in structure and function to a dolphin's melon. and also his sinuses are enormous and extensive and they have phonic lips similar to a dolphin's in addition to his larynx, so he can make dolphin-like clicks/whistles that sound like they're coming either out of his nose or through the center of his forehead.

the phonic lips are circled in red. as you can see i gave him quite a lot of them, so he can probably make a whole bunch of weird alien sounds.

i can't decide whether i want his melon to be squishy like a beluga or more rigid like most other dolphins. logically, the more rigid melon probably makes the most sense, but the idea of megamind having a squishy head is just so FUNNY to me.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

So the Gerudo women aren't like salamanders, they actually need other cultures' men to have children and raise their numbers. The fact that only one Gerudo man is born every century means that either the Gerudo can only bear daughters, or if they have children who are men, they're not Gerudo. They don't have the Gerudo traits like the dark skin, the red hair and the tallness (and in some iterations the round ears).

A friend of mine proposed that the Gerudo traits are actually carried primarily by the X chromosome of Gerudo mothers, therefore passed onto mostly to AFAB people, and a Gerudo male would actually be intersex, which is why they are so rare.

Sure, we don't apply genetic science to fantasy, but I thought it was a fun thinkpiece. Intersex Ganondorf!

Holy hell I love that!!!! This is so good!!!! I'm extremely onboard, this is an incredibly fun theory!!

[witchofthesouls]

This feels like flight frame Sparklings in a nutshell especially with first time parents.

https://www.tumblr.com/kedreeva/719876298689937408/glad-that-came-through-in-text?source=share

That's absolutely hilarious and completely terrifying.

Funnily enough, I like to think that Predacon newsparks have a mix of active anti-gravs and enough development in their wingspans to make a mean attempt to low glide. It's great flying practice and helps strengthen their muscles.

And that's why Predacon nests are deep.

I could imagine the early couplings between the sea-diving Predacons and Wilders resulting in newsparks attempting to flutter away from their flock. With varying levels of success.

Modern-day Seekerkin newsparks don't have that capability, but many of their flight-capable bitties activate that gliding ability once they hit the sparkling stage (i.e., the equivalent of toddlers). Hence why widespread nets are were a popular baby shower gift in Vos, Praxus, and Polyhex.

[cxldtyrant]

Not me replaying Mass Effect and getting inspired by the Drells...

[bonefall]

What about catnip tea? I’ve seen it made for cats before and have thought about including it in my fanclans as a faux alcohol, though the effects are a bit different.

The big difference between catnip and alcohol is that for cats, catnip is a stimulant where alcohol is a depressant.

You could use catnip as a faux alcohol, but more likely is that catnip tea would be more like drinking coffee than having a beer.

Funny enough valerian root has very similar effects to catnip for cats, which is why I used valerian specifically for that Dried Minnows entry. Like having a straight shot of caffeine, it could really give a warrior a boost during a hard journey.

[vivid-wisp]

You know, there’s probably nothing too deep about it, but I find it so interesting how the kids Rei and Endeavor had, ice is more dominant than fire. Rei’s presence is felt so strongly just from their families appearance, you’d think this would be the other way around since fire naturally melts ice. Like when I first found out about Dabi/Touya going from red to white hair, it was interesting to me because he can only use fire? You’d think his hair going white would be related to his quirk being related to ice.

But then I remember that one comment about Touya having their mom’s skin resilience to cold, it’s just so interesting you know? In a way it feels like there’s some kind of underlying meaning to the Todoroki family based on this, no idea if it is but if I had to take a jab at explaining it.. It’s like fire and ice both standing on equal footing.

[rabbithaver]

every time i get sick my digestive system does this thing where it Screams. and it Screams for like 5 days. and i can feel it making the first motions toward Screaming right now

anyway it's 1:30 AM. ima crash. goodnight everyone

[ohfugecannada]

Why is it almost every groot design doesn’t have leaves or foliage?

Like I get the cg movie designs, since I imagine rendering all those leaves on top of the moving bark parts and such would be a pain in the ass or something. But this is also a thing with most of the comics designs as well. It’s just bare bark and branches.

Where are his leaves??? How is this man photosynthesising???

[yeetoscope]

I’m gonna impregnate my Xbox, and I don’t mean by sliding a big, slick, disk into it’s warm, tight slot.

Interpret this as you choose.

[simpgonium]

I have the most niche, crack-ass Bakugou x Reader au in my head rn lMFAO

[transingthoseformers]

So I'm back from a full ass hibernation, and am reminded on how in certain continuities it's fully possible that Cybertronians do not recharge as often as humans, but do it for much longer than humans.

So in TFA, Sari—

[witchofthesouls]

My dream relationship dynamic between Soundwave + cassettes:

Ravage: acquired from a mentor

Rumble and Frenzy: he made himself

Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Ratbat: his own kids

[lapseinart]

I love orcas because another name for them is killer whale so you THINK it’s a whale but NO it’s a DOLPHIN!!!

[anonymous-chicken-was-taken]

You know how sometimes people write fics where quirkless people have certain biological factors that got evolved out with the event of quirked individuals? Like, I've seen a lot of fics where quirked people don't have appendixes?

Well, I just read a fic where apparently only quirkless people get hiccups because they're the only ones that have diaphragms and I have... SO many questions????

Why do people not have diaphragms? The diaphragm contracts and that's how air is pulled into your body????? HOW DO QUIRKED PEOPLE BREATHE IF THEY DON'T HAVE DIAPHRAGMS????

[lovebugism]

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t. 

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of. 

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own. 

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.” 

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface. 

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You. 

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. 

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer. 

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth. 

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look. 

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”