#quirk metaphysics

[stillness-in-green]

why do you think Deku never tried to talk to Shigaraki? doylist reason is obvious but what's the watsonian reason?

Honestly, this one’s pretty tricky to answer.  It’s very hard to get myself into the headspace of Deku (and the people in his own headspace!)—mainly because I get extremely uncharitable, extremely quickly.  Mainly about Horikoshi, yes, but that does extend to Deku, too, as well as the broader world he lives in.

The brain goes immediately to answers like, “His world is so incredibly slanted towards retributive models of justice that the fact that he even thinks about wanting to know Shigaraki’s motivations makes him a candidate for mad sainthood to the people around him.  The fact that he doesn’t follow that impulse through all the way to actually asking is immaterial; while Villains have to be punished for their actions, for Heroes, it’s the thought that counts.”

See how I’m already drifting back towards meta-narrative analysis at the end there?  Deku brings a lot of that out in me, especially from Villain Hunt onwards.  Like the wooden doll he’s named for, he comes off to me as a vessel for the plot to happen through more than he does a consistently written, well-thought-out character.  Trying to think of him through a purely Watsonian lens—no refences made at all, period, to what I think the story was trying to express or what Horikoshi’s intentions towards that story were—I almost immediately jump the tracks into territory that is all but certainly incompatible with what I was “supposed” to take away from MHA as a story.

But, you did ask, so I’ll follow the thought experiment through.  If I were to try and set down to paper an explanation for Deku’s actions from a purely in-universe stance—say, for writing canon compliant post-series fanfic—what would be my explanation?

(Hit the jump.)

Right off the bat, from a cultural perspective, I think Deku is afraid that if he tries to make excuses for Shigaraki, it would be disrespectful to Shigaraki’s victims.  That’s why you get the heroic characters constant harping on about how they can’t forgive the Villains, even though, as adjuncts to the police, “forgiveness” is utterly immaterial to them doing their jobs.  Too much sympathy for criminals, in some peoples’ eyes, becomes indicative of a lack of proper regard for the victims of crime; this is very much a dynamic in play in Japan’s legal system.[1]  Ochaco initially has the same impulse, where she’s terrified that even thinking about Toga Himiko’s human circumstances puts her in danger of forgetting the suffering Toga and the League brought about.

1: That’s a meta consideration, yes, but one that I think the target audience would understand to be implicit in the canon as written, so I’m treating it as a Watsonian detail.

Ochaco and Deku commiserate and ultimately encourage each other to embrace their desire to understand their respective Villains, which leads to Ochaco talking to Toga at some length!  Ochaco must do this because asking Toga these questions if the only way she has to reach that understanding.  Deku does not have to ask, however, because he has a cheatmode to fall back on: the mindscape shared between All For One and One For All.  If Deku thinks too much open communication with Villains risks dishonoring Shigaraki’s victims, well, he doesn’t have to openly communicate.  He doesn’t have to talk to Shigaraki the person at all.  He just has to find that crying little boy in the mindscape again.

I also think it’s notable that Deku very much does stop talking about wanting to save Shigaraki after he talks to Gran Torino.  From that point on, everything he says about Shigaraki becomes about wanting to understand him instead.  Coupled with the idea that he insists upon not forgiving Shigaraki, I get the sense that what Deku wants is not to help Shigaraki at all, but rather to simply bear witness to his truth.  And even that much feels self-serving to me—as if Deku doesn’t care so much that Shigaraki is in pain, but rather that Shigaraki might have a point, that Shigaraki’s pain might be valid.  Shigaraki having a valid point would destabilize everything Deku believes about Heroes and Hero Society, and Deku has, by that point, seen enough that he’s too upright to look away, to “sweep things back under the rug,” so he has to find out Shigaraki’s story to judge it for himself.

The fact that he feels he has the right to judge Shigaraki’s story speaks to the arrogance of Heroes—the same arrogance that leads them to declare their lack of forgiveness as if it’s in some way relevant to doing the job in front of them—as well as a deeply rooted defensiveness: that they must have, and be perceived as having, the moral high ground over those evil Villains.  I think, for example, of the Flamin’ Sidekickers and their cringingly awkward self-justifications to Dabi about their continued association with Todoroki Enji.  Their reasoning has zero bearing on either Dabi’s pain or their own heroic responsibilities to assist in the arrest of a known murderer/terrorist/arsonist, but they feel the need to spell that reasoning out to the child abuse victim/volatile Villain anyway, seemingly for no in-character reason save to rationalize the deep discomfort that Dabi’s video accusations provoked in them.

Heroes must be seen as morally just—this is the whole basis for the authority they’ve been granted to wield their powers against other people.  Best Jeanist talks about this idea explicitly, as does Police Chief Tsuragamae.  Far more damningly, it’s what led to the HPSC using agents like Lady Nagant and Hawks to quietly dispose of anyone that would present a threat to the public image of Heroes and, by extension, the fragile peace that rests on that public image.

Heroes must be pure and righteous, and Deku is just as apt to believe that as any other Hero—maybe even more apt, given that he’s also had All Might leaning on him about the bearer of One For All being the Pillar and the Symbol of Peace.  All this baggage winds up conflicting, however, with the horror and reflexive need to help Deku feels upon seeing the small, crying child within Shigaraki.

Saving small crying children is the absolute, innermost core of Deku’s personal framing of Heroism—seriously, he says this nearly word-for-word in Chapter 1!—and so, like Shouji says of the heteromorph riot, it isn’t something he can ignore and still call himself a Hero.  He’s unprepared for that personal brand of Heroism to conflict with the demands of professional Heroism, because he never expected to face someone who was both Evil Villain and Crying Child at the same time.  This is what he wrestles with over the course of his time away from UA and why, ultimately, he decides to use the mindscape as a way of resolving the conflict.

(Note again that I'm talking about my fanfic explanation here. Deku's reasoning is much murkier in the canon because of the canon's late turn towards locking us hard out of Deku's personal feelings and thoughts when they're about anything more complex than chain OFA combo moves.)

Remember that Deku begins the Villain Hunt Arc with a tentative desire to “understand Villains” so that he can perhaps use that understanding to avert or at least deescalate conflicts with them—and then the very first Villain he falteringly tries to understand is fucking Muscular, who shuts him down cold.  Deku never tries that hard[2] to understand a Villain again—Lady Nagant dumps her backstory on him with very little prompting from him, he has nothing but ultimatums for Overhaul, he doesn’t seem to ask any of AFO’s other minions any personal questions whatsoever, and with Shigaraki, he goes straight to the mindscape instead of even attempting a dialogue.

2: Insomuch as you could call asking three invasive, judgy questions in the middle of combat and then throwing in the towel “trying hard”.

My take is that Muscular scared him off of trying to verbally uncover the backstories of Villains—even though Shigaraki is ready to all but hand the first Hero to ask an illustrated history of his grievances with Hero Society, Deku can’t trust that anything Shigaraki tells him will be the unvarnished truth.  Unlike Shouto, he has no one to corroborate the truth with, but unlike Uraraka, he doesn’t just have to make the best of it, either.  He can instead utilize the mindscape, an approach that sidesteps all of the issues that a spoken dialogue would entail:

Getting Shigaraki’s truth via the mindscape means he can trust the answers he gets, rather than having to filter those answers through Shigaraki’s warped worldview.  This allows him to honestly evaluate Shigaraki’s perspective, gauging whether Shigaraki has a real point that Deku has any responsibility to address, some injustice that needs to be corrected independently of Shigaraki being held accountable for his crimes.    

Having decided that—for reasons of justice, All Might’s Pillar mentality, and his own peace of mind—he has to know Shigaraki’s truth, Deku comes to feel self-righteously entitled to that truth.  Thus, even though Shigaraki always seemed perfectly willing to share his thoughts in their previous encounters, Deku can’t take the chance that he’ll change his mind and rebuff Deku like Muscular did.  Using the mindscape takes that agency away from Shigaraki, rendering his willingness to share moot.    

No one other than people with access to the shared mindscape can perceive the interactions happening within it.  This means that, no matter what Deku learns or how he reacts to it in the moment, he doesn’t risk being seen as disrespecting Shigaraki’s victims by prioritizing the feelings and perspective of a vicious terrorist.    

Finally, on a tactical note, the encounter Deku has with Shigaraki in the mindscape during the Jakku battle seems to happen nigh instantaneously.  If he can get his answers at the speed of thought, that means he doesn’t have to specifically draw out his battle with Shigaraki until he’s resolved things to his personal satisfaction.  This is ideal, since Shigaraki presents an incredibly dangerous threat to everything and everyone around him, and Deku’s Hero education has repeatedly emphasized the importance of ending battles quickly.

There's just one problem with all this: Deku is assuming access to Shigaraki’s mind.  And why wouldn’t he?  He got in there without even trying last time, after all!  I assume that’s also why he rolls up to the battle with zero plans of any kind: he doesn’t understand how the mechanics of the shared mindscape work and none of the prior bearers can advise him because it’s a brand-new phenomenon for him as the ninth bearer, so they’re just as clueless about it as he is. 

Lacking that knowledge, he opts to simply take it on faith that he’ll be able to access that mental space again, find the crying child in it, and uncover enough about Shigaraki’s history to render his own judgement of it.  He's the Deku who does his best, after all; if it doesn't work, at least he'll know he tried. The good faith attempt, however it turns out, will allow him to satisfy his own sense of justice while not interfering with whatever temporal justice the adult Heroes are planning for Shigaraki—to which Deku fully believes he must be subjected as punishment for his crimes!—be it arrest or an execution broadcast to the entire world.

Unfortunately for Deku, thanks to his being waylaid by Toga, he turns up late to the battle only to find Shigaraki’s psyche sealed up tighter than an All Might-themed wall safe.  Then, since he never had any kind of plan for talking to Shigaraki, and his own ability to plan things is strictly limited to combining quirk abilities on the fly, he has to wing it until Kudou is able to come up with a plan for him.  Naturally, because Kudou is Kudou, and Heroes’ solutions are tailored to Heroes’ strengths, this involves violent psychic assault.  And why not?  It’s not like Deku believes Shigaraki deserves the mercy of a gentler approach.  Just think of all those people he hurt!

Now, is this all heckin’ uncharitable?  Does it paint Deku as well-intended but blindly self-righteous and ethically timid? Oh, for sure.  And I do think there was a point at which Deku wanted to save Shigaraki in a truer sense—indeed, he’s quite plain-spoken about it in the OFA Mental Conference in the aftermath of the first war!  However, it’s absolutely within his established characterization to run into things that make him uneasy and take the first out an authority figure offers him that spares him the work of demolishing and rebuilding his entire world view.  Look no further than the aftermath of the mall scene. You can draw a straight line from Deku taking Tsukauchi's out (that Shigaraki is just a sore loser) to him also taking Gran's (that killing Shigaraki could be a way of saving him).

That’s the mentality I would lean on to explain Deku’s anemic efforts to truly save Shigaraki in the end: an inherent desire to help people that has been hamstrung by a learned dehumanization of Villains, a repeated emphasis on swift, unthinking action as a Heroic virtue, a culture that regards sympathy for those involved in a crime as a zero sum game, and, last but not least, a psychological complex about the basic nature of Heroism rooted in his fraught childhood.

Deku says he’ll “never forget” Shigaraki. If it were me writing the sequel, “never forgetting” would look an awful lot like, “Following a particularly frustrating day of the Pro Hero grind, Midoriya Izuku opens his eyes at 4AM one cold winter night in his early-40s with the horrible, inescapable realization that what he did as a teenager to a deeply victimized young man barely older than he was himself back then was fucked up in ways he can never repair or take back.  And further that now, not only is he going to have to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for that act, it’s going to be much, much harder than it would have been back then, specifically because he did what he did back then and let the world get away with calling it heroism.”

Thanks for the ask, anon! I hope you find the answer interesting and at least somewhat believable, for all that it certainly isn't tonally in-line with the story's portrayal of its much-lauded protagonist.

   

(P.S. On top of convincing both All Might and Deku to not pursue saving Shigaraki in any concrete sense, Gran Torino also takes partial credit for Nana's decision to abandon Kotarou. Torino Sorahiko might actually be the all-time world champion of convincing OFA bearers that preserving One For All is worth abandoning children to their grim fates. Give him a hand, everyone. What a great and admirable Hero who absolutely deserved to survive all the way to the end of the story and who definitely is not a symbol of all the most jaded and cynical priorities of the old order.)

[sysig]

But would you tho (Patreon)

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 25

<<<Previous Next>>>

It had been three weeks.

Three long, buzzing, sleepless weeks since your portfolios were submitted, carefully reviewed, triple-checked, and delivered into the arcane dropbox guarded by an enchanted golem who had politely wished you “good fortune” in five different languages. 

And now, the final wait was nearly over. The results would be posted tomorrow at dawn. You sat at your usual spot in the dining hall, the table glowing under soft lanternlight, half-listening to the hum of your friends’ voices. Every student around you carried the same barely-contained energy, like the whole Academy was holding its breath.

“I swear,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered, slumping dramatically over his tray, “if I don’t get placed in the Mythos Lab, I’m transferring to one of those boring wizard academies by the marsh.”

“You’d last two days before dying of boredom,” Chai Latte Cookie replied, poking at her mashed roots with her spoon. “Or trying to enchant the entire faculty into giving you snacks.” Hazelnut grinned. “So I’d go down in history.”

“You’d go down in flames,” Earl Grey said dryly, not looking up from his tea. “Which would be poetic, but still tragic.” 

You chuckled softly, but your thoughts wandered. Three weeks. It felt like a blur and an eternity all at once. Between lectures, late-night study sessions, and whispered evenings in the Scholar’s Wing, it had passed without warning.

“Do you think we’ll all get in?” you asked quietly. The table stilled for just a breath. Chai was the first to speak. “I think we’ve done everything we could. We worked hard. We submitted early. We made each other better.” 

She gave you a pointed look, warm and firm. “You’ve come so far.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti nodded. “We’ve got a real shot.”

“And if not,” Earl Grey added smoothly, “we’ll simply rewrite the future until it suits us. That’s what scholars do.” 

That drew a laugh from all of you. But the nerves didn’t quite fade .As you reached for your tea, Chai leaned forward suddenly, that familiar glint in her eye.

“And speaking of rewriting futures…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and the Sage of Truth?”

You blinked. “What?”

She grinned. “Shadow Milk Cookie. You’ve been seeing him almost every day for weeks, and I’m just supposed to believe you’re only talking about metaphysics and portfolio formatting?” 

Hazelnut made a quiet “ooh,” and even Earl Grey quirked a brow with interest. 

You hesitated. “It’s… kind of the same. I mean, we’re close. There’s this understanding between us, this rhythm we’ve fallen into. But-”

“But?” Chai’s voice softened.

You exhaled. “It’s like there’s this barrier we keep pretending doesn’t exist. We’re not just friends anymore. I think we both know that. But there’s no label. No definition. And it’s… starting to feel like that lack of definition is keeping us from something.” 

Earl Grey set down his tea. “From moving forward.” 

You nodded, voice quieter. “Maybe.” Chai looked at you, really looked, and reached across the table to squeeze your hand.

“You’ve already walked into the unknown once,” she said. “What’s one more step?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at your friends how far you’d all come. How much tomorrow might change. And how much, already, had changed. Maybe in the morning, there’d be answers. Maybe even the kind that couldn’t be written into a portfolio. 

Your fingers curled around your cup, the warmth grounding you as you exhaled softly. 

The laughter and chatter that had filled the table moments before quieted, a subtle shift as your friends sensed the sincerity behind your silence. “It’s not that easy,” you said, voice low but honest. Hazelnut Biscotti, halfway through chewing a roll, paused. Chai Latte leaned in just a bit, eyes softening. 

Even Earl Grey tilted his head slightly, setting down his teacup. “It’s not like we don’t care about each other,” you continued. “I know we do. But there’s this… line. One neither of us wants to cross.”

Chai gave you a gentle smile. “Because of who he is?” 

You nodded slowly. “Because of everything he is. He’s the Sage of Truth…Shadow Milk Cookie. He’s someone with centuries ahead of him, someone who speaks in riddles and answers with stars. And I’m…” 

You gestured vaguely. “Just a student. One who nearly flunked their way through the first half of the semester and once tried to enchant pineapple ice cream.”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a soft snort. “A noble disaster.”

You smiled faintly but didn’t look up. “I guess… I don’t know where we stand. We never really say anything. It’s always these quiet moments holding hands under the table, walking in the gardens after dark, falling asleep in his office. But we don’t call it anything.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to name it first,” Earl Grey said gently. 

You looked at him, surprised. “He’s older. Wiser. But that doesn’t mean he knows how to navigate this,” 

Earl continued. “Maybe he’s giving you room. Letting you choose if you want something defined…without putting pressure on it.” 

Chai reached out and brushed her thumb lightly over your knuckles. “But not knowing still hurts, doesn’t it?”

You gave the smallest nod. “It’s like… it doesn’t matter if we both know what this is if neither of us says it out loud. It feels like we’re keeping it in a box we’re both too scared to open.” There was silence, but it wasn’t heavy. Just thoughtful.

“I’m not asking for anything big,” you added. “I just want to feel like we’re standing on something solid. That I’m not imagining it.”

“You’re not,” Chai said quietly, her hand still resting over yours. Hazelnut raised his cup. “And if he breaks your heart, we’ll steal his ink bottles and sabotage every quill he owns.” You laughed, the tension in your chest loosening just enough. “Thanks, I think?”

“Anytime,” he said, grinning. “You’re doing fine,” Earl added, calm as ever. “Better than most.” And for the first time that evening, you believed that might be true. That maybe even the undefined had meaning. And maybe tomorrow would bring something more.

Your fingers curled around Earl Grey’s hands, seeking reassurance, seeking something that felt steady. His warmth was grounding, the weight of his certainty anchoring you even as doubt pulled at your edges. 

“…Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice quieter than before. Earl Grey’s gaze was unwavering, calm as ever, yet beneath it, there was something almost tender. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” The world around you faded just slightly. The dim glow of the dining hall, the quiet hum of voices none of it seemed to matter as much as this moment.

Your hands remained clasped across the table, a touch that to you felt natural like time itself had woven trust between you both, like this was just another moment in the long thread of your friendship. 

But to an outsider? To someone watching from across the room? It looked like something entirely different. Chai Latte’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she masked it with a small sip of her tea. Her fingers twitched against the table, as if resisting the urge to say something. 

Hazelnut Biscotti, however, never resisted such urges. “Oh no,” he gasped, placing a hand over his chest with theatrical flair. “Are you two eloping? Has true love blossomed right before our eyes?” Hazelnut Biscotti was just jesting and his bluntness was more playful than Earl Grey’s.

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly knocked over your tea. “What?!” Chai Latte groaned, reaching over to lightly smack him on the arm. “Hazel, I swear-” But before she could scold him properly, something changed. A presence. A shift in the air, subtle but impossible to ignore. 

Hazelnut Biscotti, who had been grinning just a second ago, stiffened. Chai Latte’s shoulders squared, and her gaze flickered just past you. Even Earl Grey composed, unshakable Earl Grey tensed ever so slightly.

Slowly, you turned. And your breath caught. Shadow Milk Cookie stood behind you. His eyes were unreadable, sharp yet measured, scanning the scene before him your hands still clasped in Earl Grey’s, the warmth between you unmistakable, the way your friends had suddenly gone completely silent. But more than that, he felt different. The air around him carried weight, the kind of presence that made words feel insignificant. And then, your eyes dropped to his hands.

Your notebook.

Your forgotten notebook.

Your stomach twisted.

Shadow Milk Cookie lifted it slightly, his voice smooth, yet oddly restrained.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

You hesitated, barely breathing as you reached for it. Your fingers brushed against his just for a second, fleeting but tangible. His gaze did not waver. “…Thanks,” you murmured, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The world shrank down to the inches of space between you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, thick as ink spilled over parchment. Then, slowly, his eyes shifted not to your notebook, not even to you, but to Earl Grey. You barely noticed the way Earl’s fingers subtly pulled away from yours. 

The moment stretched. Too long. Too quiet. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered back to yours, something unreadable in his expression something composed, but not detached. Something lingering. “Try not to leave it behind next time,” he said, his voice perfectly even. Then, without another word, he turned, steps sweeping behind him, disappearing as quickly as he came. You exhaled shakily, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension hanging in the air. 

Hazelnut Biscotti cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “…Sooo. That was dramatic.” 

Chai Latte snapped out of her daze and smacked his arm. “Hazel, shut up!” 

“I’m just saying! That was a moment.” 

Earl Grey took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, expression unreadable. “Intriguing.” But you weren’t listening. Because Shadow Milk Cookie had left. But something stayed. A presence, an impression, a lingering sense of something unspoken yet undeniable. And for the first time, you wondered…Was this a line being crossed? Or a boundary being drawn?

Your fingers curled around your notebook, grip tightening as your mind tried and failed to catch up with what had just transpired. You stared at the door Shadow Milk Cookie had disappeared through, heart pounding, an unsettled feeling creeping up your spine.

“…What just happened?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it make sense. 

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re in trouble.” 

You turned to him, eyes wide with something close to panic. “What do you mean I’m in trouble? Should I- should I go after him? Should I just leave it? What do I do?” 

Hazelnut leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I mean, if it were me, I’d probably start worrying about Earl here.” 

Earl Grey blinked. “Pardon?”

“Yeah,” Hazelnut continued, as if he were making some grand revelation. “You should probably watch your back from now on.” 

You paled slightly. “What? Why? What did he do”

“Relax,” he said, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to Earl Grey. “He wouldn’t do anything. You’re (y/n)’s friend. But if looks could kill? Earl’d be a goner.” 

Earl Grey exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. “You are truly a master of easing tension.”

“I try,” Hazelnut Biscotti said, grinning. You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “No, but…what do I do?” You looked toward the door again, heart still thrumming against your ribs. “Do I go after him? Do I just pretend that didn’t happen?” 

Chai Latte finally leaned in, resting her chin in her palm, gaze softer than usual. “Well,” she said, tilting her head, “if I were him, and I walked in on that little moment between you and Earl? I’d probably be spiraling.”

You stiffened. “What…why?” Chai gestured vaguely toward where your hands had been clasped just minutes ago. “I mean, come on. If you were an outsider looking in, that whole moment looked intimate.” 

You hesitated. “But Earl and I-”

“I know it wasn’t that kind of moment,” Chai interrupted, waving a hand. “But if he did or didn’t hear the full conversation? If he just saw you two, holding hands, looking all serious and soft with each other?” 

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’d be spiraling.” Hazelnut Biscotti nodded solemnly. “I mean, you were looking at Earl Grey like he hung the stars for you.” Earl Grey sighed. “You are really not helping.”

You groaned again, covering your face with both hands. “I wasn’t! I mean, maybe a little? But that was just…he was just giving me advice! I needed to hear that from him!”

Chai tapped her fingers against the table. “And now Shadow Milk thinks you’re running off to elope.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a loud snort. “You should’ve seen his face. That was the face of a man having an epiphany he wasn’t ready for.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Are you guys sure he was…?” 

Chai Latte gave you an exasperated look. “Do you really think he’d show up here just to return a notebook? He wanted to see you.” You opened your mouth, then closed it.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no no no.” Hazelnut Biscotti clapped a hand over his mouth, clearly thriving on your panic. “They’re realizing.” Earl Grey, ever composed, simply sighed. “Would you like to calm down before you decide what to do?” 

You didn’t respond immediately. Your brain was moving too fast, rewinding through every interaction you’d ever had with Shadow Milk Cookie, trying to pinpoint the exact moment you had somehow caused this mess.

“I have to talk to him,” you said finally, voice firm even though your heart was still a frantic mess. Chai Latte smiled, just slightly. “That’s probably a good idea.” Hazelnut Biscotti looked vaguely disappointed. “So no eloping?” 

Chai smacked his arm. “Shut up.” You barely registered their bickering, already grabbing your notebook and standing on shaky legs. Whatever just happened you needed answers. You barely registered the scrape of your chair as you pushed back from the table, the voices of your friends fading into background noise as your pulse roared in your ears.

You had to go after him.

Your legs carried you before your mind fully caught up, weaving through the dining hall’s thinning crowd, past lingering students, out into the dim corridors of the Academy. You caught a glimpse of him ahead, his clothes moving fluidly with every step, his pace measured but unwavering. He wasn’t storming off, wasn’t making a scene, but there was a distance in his stride that you felt.

A deliberate parting.

The kind that hurt.

“Shadow Milk!”

Your voice cut through the hush of the hall, sharp, urgent. Eyes watching but he didn’t stop. You picked up your pace, practically jogging to catch up, your heart hammering wildly.

“Shadow Milk Cookie, wait!”

At last, he halted.

But he didn’t turn right away.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his hands curled into fists at his sides before relaxing again. It was as if he was composing himself building walls you hadn’t even realized you were capable of breaking. When he finally faced you, his eyes were not cold, not indifferent, but guarded.

“I returned your notebook,” he said, voice even.

“That’s not-” You exhaled sharply, stepping closer. “That’s not the only reason why you left.” 

“No,” he admitted. You hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. But there was something else in the way he looked at you, something just beneath the surface, something aching. You swallowed. “Then why?”

His gaze flickered, just barely. Then, in a voice quieter but no less sharp.

“You turned to him.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“Earl Grey Cookie,” he said, his expression unwavering. “You looked to him for the answers you sought. Not me.”

A strange, unfamiliar panic clawed its way up your throat. “I-I didn’t” You took another step forward, shaking your head. “That wasn’t-”

“You asked him,” Shadow Milk continued, and this time, there was an edge to his voice, something rawer than you’d ever heard from him before. “You held his hands. You let him be the one to give you certainty.” You stared at him, chest tightening. How much had he heard? Not like it mattered but still. You wondered if he had really good hearing, or if you lacked spatial awareness…maybe both. Still you had to say something anything.

“Because you never do!” The words left you before you could stop them, too loud, too vulnerable. They hung in the space between you, trembling, fragile. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes darkened just slightly. “And do you believe I would give you falsehoods?”

“No!” You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. “That’s not what I…god, you always do this! You always make me untangle things myself, always guide me but never say anything outright! I needed something clear, something solid!” Something you wouldn’t dance around like a riddle. Something you wouldn’t have to question.

His jaw tightened just slightly. “And you believed Earl Grey was the one to provide that?” 

You faltered, breath uneven. “I just” You swallowed, hands curling into fists at your sides. “I don’t know. Maybe. I needed to hear it from someone. That what I feel is real.”

“And my actions have not made it real?” His voice was lower now, careful, but lined with something sharp. 

Your heart twisted. “That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. A silence stretched between you, heavy and taut. Then, quietly he asked “Do you not trust me?”

Your breath stilled.

You looked up at him, at the slight furrow in his brow, at the rare, barely perceptible hesitance in his expression. His eyes held you in place, searching; waiting.

“I do,” you murmured. “I do trust you.”

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. “Then tell me, scholar.” His voice was softer now, but no less serious. “What is it that you seek from me?”

You hesitated.

“I-” Your fingers trembled at your sides. “I don’t know.” A long pause.

“Would you like me to name it?” Your breath caught. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze was steady, unreadable. His posture was composed, but there was something behind it, something that made your chest ache. For a moment, you stood frozen, the weight of the question pressing against your ribs.

Would you?

Would having a name for this make it easier? Would it make it real in a way you were both too scared to face? This is what you wanted is it not?

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Shadow Milk studied you for a long moment, then, without a word, he let out a quiet breath.

“…Then we wait.” 

You swallowed thickly. “…Wait?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable once more. “Until you are ready to cross the line you claim neither of us dares to step over.” 

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding came out shakily. He wasn’t giving you riddles. He was giving you the choice. The realization hit you with startling clarity. Shadow Milk had never been holding you back. He had been waiting for you to step forward. You let out something between a breathless laugh and a sigh, rubbing your temples. “You’re impossible.”

A faint hum. “So I’ve been told.”

You glanced up at him, expression softening. “Shadow Milk-” He tilted his head slightly. “Yes?”

You studied him for a moment, the way he watched you patient, unwavering, genuine

“…I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmured.

Shadow Milk’s lips curled, barely perceptible. “Tomorrow,” he echoed.

You walked back toward your friends, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in your chest like an unfinished sentence, words unsaid, truths skirted around, both of you sidestepping the things that felt too fragile, too dangerous to bring into the light. Nothing had been resolved. Not really. All you had done was push it aside, tuck it neatly away like a book neither of you were ready to read, ignoring the way the pages still ached to be turned.

And so, you let it rest for now. When you reached your table, the atmosphere had simmered down. The initial chaos of your sudden departure had faded, replaced by the quiet hum of conversation, half-eaten plates, and stolen glances in your direction. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to speak.

“Hey, uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely sheepish. “Sorry about earlier. I got a little carried away.” His gaze flicked to Chai Latte. “I’m apologizing…Partly because someone nearly yanked my arm out of its socket.”

Chai Latte huffed, arms crossed. “You deserved it.”

“But also because I-” He exhaled, looking at you more seriously. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I thought I was being funny, but I should’ve read the room better.”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “It’s okay, really.”

“It’s not, though.” Hazelnut Biscotti frowned. “That was a whole thing. And I guess I kinda made it into even more of a thing.”

Earl Grey Cookie, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. “It’s not your fault,” he said smoothly, setting his teacup down with precise grace.

“And perhaps… maybe I was in the wrong. A little bit.” Chai Latte immediately turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Oh, don’t you start.” 

Earl Grey gave her a look of polite skepticism. “You don’t think I was at least partially responsible?”

“You did nothing wrong,” Chai declared, shaking her head. “Seriously, what is with all of you acting like you committed some grand crime?” 

Hazelnut Biscotti raised a hand. “To be fair, you literally just scolded me.”

“Yes, because you turned it into a whole dramatic scene,” Chai shot back, before gesturing vaguely to Earl Grey. “But him? He was just sitting there, minding his own business, and then boom he’s caught in some weird, unspoken relationship war.” 

You winced. “Please don’t call it that.”

“Then what should I call it?” Chai asked, giving you an exasperated look. You hesitated, lips pressing together. Chai let out a long sigh. “See? This is the problem.” 

Hazelnut snorted into his drink. “She’s got a point.” 

Earl Grey, ever composed, simply hummed. “Regardless, I meant what I said earlier,” he said, meeting your gaze with something softer than his usual impassiveness. “You’re not alone in this.”

Your chest ached, but in a way that felt warm. “…Thanks,” you murmured. 

Chai Latte reached out and flicked your forehead lightly. “You stress me out,” she grumbled. “I’m stealing your desserts for a week.”

“That’s excessive,” you protested. She raised a brow. “You’ll let me.” You groaned, but didn’t argue. The tension from earlier wasn’t entirely gone but here, in the company of your friends, it didn’t feel as suffocating. Though nothing was fixed not yet it was enough to know that you didn’t have to carry it alone. Still though, Chai latte just had to ask…

“Soooo…What happened?” 

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as you finally finished recounting everything. Your friends sat in varying states of contemplation, processing the storm of emotions you had just unraveled before them. 

Hazelnut Biscotti was the first to break the silence. “…Okay, first of all, damn.” 

Chai Latte Cookie let out a slow, theatrical breath, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I told you this was a slow-burn academic tragedy waiting to happen.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, leaned back slightly, studying you. “So… that’s where you left things?” His voice was careful, like he was handling something delicate. 

You nodded, still feeling the echo of Shadow Milk’s words in your chest. “Yeah. I-I don’t know if I handled it right. He looked… I don’t know. Disappointed? Or maybe just done with this whole thing.”

Chai Latte shook her head. “No, no, no…he’s not done. He just threw the ball into your court. He’s waiting.” Hazelnut Biscotti looked deep in thought. “I mean… he literally asked if you wanted him to name it. You could’ve had all the answers right then and there.” 

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “I know! But I panicked!” 

Earl Grey sighed, fingers steepled. “It’s understandable. Naming something makes it real.”

“Exactly,” you muttered, lifting your head just slightly. “And what if once we say it, we can’t go back? What if it changes everything? What if I’m wrong?” 

Chai gave you a pointed look. “Are you?”

You hesitated. “No,” you admitted softly. 

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “There it is.” 

Chai clapped her hands together. “Alright, so you do love him.” You immediately recoiled. “I never said-!”

“You never denied,” she sing-songed, leaning in closer.

Earl Grey merely raised a brow. “You have feelings for him. That much is clear.” You rolled your eyes, feeling entirely too seen. 

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna elope with him, warn us first. I need to know what kind of outfit is required for a ‘Fount of Knowledge’ wedding.” 

Chai immediately turned and shook him. “Shut up.” Earl Grey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hazelnut, please.”

You could feel your face burning. “We are not eloping!” Hazelnut Biscotti only grinned. “Yet.”

You buried your face in your hands again. “I hate all of you.” Chai patted your shoulder, but there was an undeniable gleam in her eyes. “You love us.” You muttered something incomprehensible into your hands. 

Earl Grey, sensing that you were moments from combusting, redirected the conversation. “Jokes aside,” he said evenly, “you’re going to have to talk to him again.”

You let out a breath, still not looking up. “I know.” Chai nudged your side. “And what’s the plan?”

“…Survive.”

Hazelnut Biscotti shot you a glance. “Not a great plan.” 

Earl Grey sighed. “At least be honest with yourself.” You let your hands fall from your face, finally looking up at them at the concern, the support, the absolute lack of judgment.

“…I just need time,” you admitted. Chai Latte gave you a soft smile. “Then take it. But don’t take forever.” 

Hazelnut raised his cup. “To our poor, lovesick friend, may they figure this mess out before we all die of old age.” You groaned but clinked your cup against his anyway.

Earl Grey simply shook his head, but you could see the quiet amusement in his eyes. You sighed, slumping forward onto the table, your hands tangled in your hair as the weight of everything settled heavily in your chest.

“So, what do I do?” you asked, your voice muffled. “I didn’t fix anything. We didn’t actually talk about it. I just ran after him, panicked, and now it feels like we shoved everything under the rug again.” 

Chai Latte Cookie hummed, sipping her tea before giving you a thoughtful look. “Well… you could talk to him.”

Hazelnut Biscotti snorted. “A revolutionary idea.” 

You shot him a glare. “You know what I mean. What if he’s actually upset with me? What if he thinks I don’t trust him? What if I made things worse?” 

Earl Grey Cookie tapped his fingers against the table. “Do you really believe that?”

You hesitated.

“...I don’t know,” you admitted, pressing your forehead against your palm. “Maybe? I mean, he did leave. That means something, right? If he wasn’t upset, he would’ve stayed.” 

Chai Latte reached out, flicking your arm lightly. “He was upset. But not in the way you think. If he was actually angry at you, do you really think he would’ve stood there, listened to you, offered to name whatever it is between you?”

Earl Grey nodded. “He’s waiting. That much is clear. But you’re right about one thing, this conversation isn’t over. It’s just on hold.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “So, how do you unpause it?” You stared at the table, feeling the pit of uncertainty clawing at your stomach. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I want to talk to him, but how do I even start? ‘Hey, sorry I looked to someone else for answers because I was scared of what yours would be’? Yeah, that sounds great.”

Chai sighed dramatically. “If only there were a world-renowned scholar of truth and knowledge who could help you work through the answers you’re looking for.” You shot her a flat look. “Helpful.”

“I am helpful,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But seriously, you’re overthinking this.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “Like that’s new.” Earl Grey ignored him. “Start simple. He’s always been someone who gives you the space to figure things out, hasn’t he?”

You frowned. “Yeah…”

“Then take that space. But don’t leave it empty,” Earl Grey said. “If you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding the conversation entirely, show him that you’re still there.” 

Chai smirked. “Or, you know, just ambush him in his office and demand he help you understand what you want.”

“That’s what I always do,” you groaned. Hazelnut clapped your shoulder. “Then you’re already ahead of the curve.” You shook your head, laughing despite the tightness in your chest. “You guys are terrible at giving normal advice.”

“We’re terrible at normal in general,” Chai corrected. Earl Grey sipped his tea. “You don’t need a perfect plan. Just take a step forward.” You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “Alright. Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Hazelnut grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now, if you do elope, can I officiate?” Chai immediately lunged at him, and you buried your face in your hands again. You had no idea how you were going to fix this. You let out a groan, dragging your hands down your face before dropping your head onto the table.

“Why doesn’t he just take the lead?” you grumbled, voice muffled by the wood. “Why does it always have to be me asking the questions? Why does he answer every single one with another question? Shouldn’t he be the one to fix things?”

Chai Latte Cookie let out a soft snort, sipping her tea with amusement. “You do realize who you’re talking about, right?” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah, we’re talking about the Sage of Truth. Mr. ‘The Answers Lie Within You,’ Mr. ‘Have You Considered the Implications of Your Own Inquiry?’ Mr.-”

“Alright, alright,” you groaned, waving a hand to cut him off. “I get it.” 

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, tilted his head slightly. “Do you really want him to ‘fix’ this? Or do you want him to say something you’re too afraid to say first?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Both.”

Chai Latte smirked. “Oh, so now you want him to tell you what to do?”

You slumped further into your seat. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” You lifted your head just enough to glare at them. “I’m allowed to rant.”

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned back, grinning. “Of course. Please, go on about how the all-knowing scholar should do all the emotional labor for you.”

You groaned again, flopping back into your chair. “I don’t mean it like that! It’s just…he always makes me figure things out on my own. Even now, when it’s us. It’s like he’s waiting for me to piece together some grand revelation, and I’m just” You gestured wildly. “floundering around like an idiot.”

Chai Latte patted your shoulder, not unkindly. “Sweetheart, you’re always floundering.”

“Not helping.”

Earl Grey, who had been quietly observing, finally sighed. “He’s not doing this to frustrate you.” You huffed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s giving you control,” Earl Grey continued, voice calm. “If he were to take the lead and define this for you, that would mean he’s the one deciding what it is. That’s not how he operates. You know that.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to argue but then you paused. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong. Shadow Milk Cookie never imposed his truth onto others. That wasn’t his way. He let others seek, find, discover and let them come to their own conclusions. So of course, when it came to this, to you he wasn’t going to define it for you.

You slumped, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Ugh.”

Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “That’s it? Just ‘ugh’?”

“Yes.” You gestured vaguely. “Just… ugh.”

Chai Latte laughed. “You really are hopeless.” 

Earl Grey simply took another sip of tea. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.” You sighed. “I know.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “But for the record, if you do decide to confess dramatically, let me know so I can sell tickets.”

Chai Latte smacked him on the arm. This was going to be a long night. Not just for you, but for poor Hazelnut’s arm…

The following day anxiety ate away at your will. The sun had barely crested the horizon when the four of you found yourselves huddled together in the main hall, where the announcement would be posted. 

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with anticipation and unspoken prayers. The events of the night prior still lingered in your mind Shadow Milk Cookie, his unreadable expression, the weight of everything left unsaid but right now, there was only this.

The results.

The Spire of Knowledge’s early decisions.

Chai Latte Cookie bounced on the balls of her feet, hands clasped together like she was physically holding herself back from sprinting straight to the notice board. 

“I hate this,” she whispered dramatically. “Why do they make it feel like we’re awaiting some divine judgment? Just post the names and let us live.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie cracked his knuckles, squinting at the large parchment still being pinned to the board by one of the faculty assistants. “I say we just charge in. Strength in numbers. If we’re gonna be disappointed, let’s at least be disappointed together.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching at your sides. The weight of weeks, months of inadvertent effort, of sleepless nights and endless study sessions, pressed against your chest. 

You thought of the research statement, the carefully compiled portfolio, the nights spent poring over notes until your vision blurred. You thought of Shadow Milk Cookie’s revisions, of the way he had taken your work and strengthened it with a precision only he could wield.

You thought of him, and what it would mean if your name wasn’t there. Earl Grey Cookie, the only one among you who appeared remotely composed, adjusted his cuffs. “It’s posted,” he murmured. 

Chai Latte let out a tiny noise of distress. The four of you exchanged glances. Then, all at once, you surged forward. The notice board loomed in front of you, names scrawled in elegant script beneath the seal of the Academy. Students rushing towards the board didn’t help your anxiety. Your eyes scanned frantically, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

Then-

You found it.

Your name.

It was there.

You got in.

A sharp breath left you, disbelief crashing over you in waves. For a moment, you could only stare, the words blurring as something deep and overwhelming settled into your bones. Relief. Joy. Maybe even a little fear, knowing what came next.

“YES!” Chai Latte Cookie practically screamed. “WE DID IT!” Your head snapped toward the list again, your hands shaking as you searched for their names. There, Earl Grey Cookie. Chai Latte Cookie. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie.

All of you.

You all got in.

“Holy!” Hazelnut Biscotti choked out a laugh, gripping Earl Grey Cookie’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. “We did it! We actually ha!” 

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a fool. “This isn’t a dream, right?” Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly, a rare, pleased smile tugging at his lips. “It would appear that it is not.”

“Oh my gods,” Chai Latte Cookie wheezed, clutching your arm like she needed to steady herself. 

“I was so ready to start crying. I was so ready to throw myself into the abyss of despair.” Hazelnut Biscotti laughed, light and full of life, and suddenly, it felt real. You turned back to your name, tracing over the letters with your eyes like they might vanish if you blinked too hard. You did it.

You were going to the Spire.

You let out a breathless laugh, your chest feeling so full you thought you might burst. Your friends were still celebrating beside you Chai Latte was gripping Earl Grey Cookie’s sleeve and shaking it wildly, Hazelnut Biscotti was dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye but all you could do was stare at your name, committing it to memory. 

Then, without thinking, you turned to them, voice shaking with laughter. “We actually did it.” Chai Latte Cookie let out a small, breathless sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob. “We did.” Hazelnut Biscotti threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. “You’re stuck with us now. There’s no going back.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a quiet chuckle, nodding. “Indeed. The Spire won’t know what hit it.” And as the excitement buzzed through the air, filling the space between you and them, between the past and the future, between the uncertainty of last night and the surety of this moment.  You realized something.

Even with all the unanswered questions.

Even with the ache in your chest that hadn’t yet faded.

Right now, this was enough.

For just a little while longer, you let yourself celebrate.

The moment the realization hit that you had made it, that all of you had made it was the same moment the rest of the Academy surged forward. Or perhaps in your own excitement you hadn’t noticed it…

A tidal wave of students pressed in, eager, desperate to see their own names among the chosen. The quiet tension that had filled the hall just moments ago shattered into an excited frenzy as hopeful scholars rushed to the board, jostling against one another, voices rising in overlapping cries of victory, disbelief, and, in some cases, quiet disappointment.

The four of you barely had a moment to bask in your triumph before the wave of bodies closed in. “Oh!” Chai Latte Cookie yelped as she was nearly knocked off balance, gripping your sleeve like a lifeline. “Chaos! Absolute chaos! I love it!” 

“MOVE!” a particularly aggressive student bellowed, elbowing their way toward the list. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie barely sidestepped a flailing arm. “Okay! Okay! We got our results, time to retreat!”

“We can’t retreat!” Chai Latte Cookie shot back, clinging to you as the crowd pressed in tighter. “We have to bask!”

“There is no basking in a stampede,” Earl Grey Cookie muttered, though even he had to take a careful step back, his usual composure momentarily disturbed by the sheer force of bodies colliding around him. You barely managed to keep your footing as someone stumbled past, their arm nearly knocking the air from your lungs. 

The press of students was relentless, an eager, anxious current sweeping through the hall like a flood. For every scholar who cried out in joy, another walked away in tense silence, their shoulders stiff with disappointment. For the four of you, though for you and your friends it was nothing but exhilaration.

“We did it,” you gasped out, ducking slightly as someone leaned in too close to read the names. “We actually did it.”

“Yes, and we will continue doing it if we can get out of here alive,” Earl Grey Cookie noted dryly. Chai Latte Cookie beamed, gripping Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s arm as she practically bounced in place. “I thrive in this energy. It’s like an academic battlefield.”

“We need to move before someone accidentally takes us out,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, already maneuvering away from the thickest part of the crowd. 

You didn’t argue. Pushing through the mass of bodies wasn’t easy, but eventually, the four of you managed to escape, stumbling into the open hallway where the air was clearer, where you could breathe. Eventually finding a table. And that’s when it finally sank in.

No more wondering.

No more waiting.

No more agonizing over whether your name would be there.

You were going to the Spire of Knowledge.

Chai Latte Cookie turned to all of you, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Then, suddenly, brightly she laughed. “We did it.”

This time, there was no rush of students, no chaotic crowd, no distractions.

Just the four of you.

Just the weight of this moment.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We did.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its two back legs. “Okay, but why does it feel like such a big deal? The Spire is literally brand new. It’s not like there are centuries of tradition tied to it.” 

You sighed, tapping your fingers against your tea cup. “Because it’s not just about the Spire. It’s about him.”

Chai Latte Cookie pointed at you in triumph. “See? You get it!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course, I do. The Spire is being built in his name. It’s not just an extension of the Academy…it’s his legacy.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a small nod. “Exactly. The ceremony isn’t just for the scholars who got accepted. It’s also for Shadow Milk Cookie; he's being formally named the Fount of Knowledge. That title isn’t just honorary. It means he’s the first of his kind, the foundation upon which the Spire will be built.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle. “No pressure or anything.” 

You let out a slow breath, staring down at the steam curling from your cup. You’d known all of this, but hearing it said aloud framed like this made it feel heavier. Chai Latte Cookie, of course, picked up on it immediately. “And you,” she added, leaning in with a grin, “get to have a front-row seat to all of it.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m literally just a student. And you know we won’t be in the front row.”

Chai Latte Cookie gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “How dare you reduce yourself to such a common title! You are his student. The most special student.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Maybe he’ll mention you in his speech.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped again, dramatically this time. “‘To my most persistent and exasperating scholar…’”

You deadpanned. “Can we not do this right now?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, but his voice was even. “It’s understandable if it feels overwhelming. This is more than just an achievement for you it’s entwined with him.”

That was the part that made your stomach twist. Because of course it was entwined with him. Your acceptance into the Spire, your entire academic growth, everything had been shaped by him in some way. He had challenged you, guided you, waited for you in ways that even now you weren’t entirely sure how to name. 

And now, as the Spire’s foundation settled into place, he was at the center of it. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a softer look, resting her chin on her palm. “Have you even asked him how he feels about all of this?”

You blinked. “…I guess not.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nudged your arm. “You should. You are his” He wiggled his brows. “favorite.” 

Chai Latte Cookie clasped her hands together. “Ooooh, what if he really does mention you in his speech? ‘And to the scholar who nearly burned down my office…’”

“I hate all of you. And for the record I didn’t come close to burning anything…I just thought I could do a magic trick…”

Earl Grey Cookie sipped his tea, unconcerned. 

You sighed, shaking your head. “Okay, so just to clarify…there’s no dramatic tradition yet, right? No elaborate robes, no candlelit rites of passage, no century-old academic oaths?”

Chai Latte Cookie shrugged. “Nope. Just a very official ceremony.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “With him in the spotlight.”

Chai Latte Cookie shot you a knowing look. “And you watching from the front row.” 

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table before finally blurting out, "I have to face him today." 

Your friends stilled for a moment before Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle, setting his cup down with exaggerated care. “Wow. You sound like you’re about to march into battle.”

Chai Latte Cookie, ever dramatic, pressed a hand to her forehead. “A noble warrior, braving the battlefield of emotional confrontation.” You shot her a flat look. “I mean it. I can’t just ignore what happened last night. If I don’t talk to him, it’s just gonna sit there, all weird and unspoken.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed, ever composed. “That does seem like the wisest course of action.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Yeah, no offense, but watching you both avoid the actual problem is kind of exhausting.” 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I know! And I hate it! Why does he always answer my questions with more questions? Why can’t he just take the lead for once and fix things?” Chai Latte Cookie grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “Oh, you’re mad mad.”

“I’m frustrated,” you corrected, lifting your head. “Why does everything have to be a slow-burn philosophical riddle with him? I ask him one thing, and suddenly I’m left wondering if I even know what I’m asking.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pointed at you. “That’s a you problem.” You shot him a betrayed look. Earl Grey Cookie finally sighed, placing his teacup down.

“You should know by now that Shadow Milk Cookie has never been the kind to force things. He waits. He guides. But he will not define this for you, no matter how much you want him to.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “…So it is on me.”

Chai Latte Cookie shrugged. “Pretty much.” You inhaled deeply, then exhaled through your nose. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix yesterday. And then we can all sit in a circle and sing kumbaya together like civilized people.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie burst out laughing. “Oh yeah. That’s totally what’s gonna happen.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. “You’re aware this might not resolve everything in one conversation.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I have to try.” 

Chai Latte Cookie grinned, nudging your arm. “That’s the spirit. Now go on, brave scholar. Face your fate.” You huffed, rolling your eyes but standing anyway. Your heart pounded as you pushed back from the table, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. This wasn’t going to be easy. But nothing worth holding onto ever was.You marched down the corridors of the Scholar’s Wing with renewed determination, your friends’ words still echoing in your ears. Face it. Fix it. That was the plan. No more avoiding. No more waiting. The heavy wooden door of Shadow Milk Cookie’s office loomed ahead, its familiar presence oddly reassuring. You knocked thrice out of habit more than anything before pushing it open, already preparing to dive straight into conversation.

But the room was empty.

You blinked.

For a moment, you hesitated, hand still gripping the door handle as you scanned the space. The usual air of careful organization lingered the scent of parchment, ink, and something faintly celestial. The room looked exactly as it always did, as if time itself hesitated to disturb it in his absence.

But he wasn’t here.

You frowned. It wasn’t like him to leave his office unlocked if he wasn’t expecting someone. Did he step out for a moment? Get caught in some impromptu meeting? You had no idea. 

Your gaze drifted toward his desk. More specifically, his chair. It looked… comfortable. Too comfortable for someone who spent so much time seated in it. Sturdy, elegant, high-backed and well-worn from years of use. 

The kind of chair that radiated both authority and the promise of unparalleled back support. You glanced at the door behind you. Then back at the chair. Well. He wasn’t here. And you’d come all this way. What was the harm? Without a second thought, you strode forward and lowered yourself into the seat. And immediately understood why he sat here so often.

“Ohhh,” you muttered under your breath, leaning back against the plush cushion. “This is dangerous.” The chair cradled you in luxury, the perfect balance of support and comfort. 

You stretched your arms over your head before resting them against the armrests with a sigh of satisfaction. No wonder he always looked so composed. With a chair like this, you could solve existential dilemmas and nap without consequence. 

Your gaze flicked to the neatly stacked papers on the desk. From here, the entire office looked different. His perspective, not yours. This was where he sat when he pondered over ancient texts, where he rested his chin in thought while listening to you struggle through complex theories.

A strange thrill ran through you at the thought. You drummed your fingers against the desk. I could get used to this. Smirking slightly to yourself, you mimicked his usual poised demeanor, lacing your fingers together and resting your chin atop them. “Hmmm,” you mused in your best impression of his voice, “and what is it, that you wish to unravel today?” You snorted at your own ridiculousness, shaking your head. Maybe this was the real source of his power an excellent chair and a great vantage point.

You barely had time to revel in your success before you heard the faint click of the door handle turning behind you.

Your stomach plummeted.

Oh no. 

The second you heard the door handle turn, panic took over. Every logical thought vanished, replaced by one singular, all-consuming instinct: hide.

Without thinking, you dropped.

One second you were basking in the absolute power of Shadow Milk Cookie’s chair; the next, you were crouched on the floor, heart hammering in your chest, palms pressed against the cool stone beneath you.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You barely had time to scramble into a somewhat reasonable position before the door swung open. Footsteps graceful, measured, and all too familiar crossed the threshold. You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, bracing yourself. Silence.

“…I see,” came the calm, level voice of Shadow Milk Cookie. You did not see. You didn’t see anything. You were on the floor. You cracked one eye open. From your incredibly dignified position below the desk, you could just barely make out his shoes and the pointed dip of his shadow against the floor. He hadn’t moved past the doorway yet, meaning he was

Probably staring at this entire mess. Slowly, carefully, you tilted your head up just a fraction. Shadow Milk Cookie stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on you. He was holding a book in one hand, as if he’d been carrying it absentmindedly. His brows were slightly raised, but beyond that, he conveyed nothing. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Dare I ask,” he continued smoothly, “what you are doing?” Your mind went blank. Every excuse you could think of was horrible. 

There was no reasonable explanation for this. You scrambled for words, for dignity, for anything. “I uh” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “I was looking for something.”

He blinked. “Under my desk?”

“Y-yes?”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression did not change. “And did you find it?”

You hesitated. “Not… yet?” A pause.

“I see.”

You had no idea what he saw, but you knew it was bad. Your hands twitched against the floor. Should you just commit to this? Stay here forever? Was this your life now? He took one step closer, barely brushing the edge of the desk. “And, if I may, what exactly were you searching for?” You opened your mouth then shut it. You could not say ‘my dignity.’

“…Something important,” you said vaguely. Another silence. Then, to your absolute horror, his voice dropped into something… thoughtful. “I could assist,” he mused, as if genuinely considering it. “If it is so crucial, surely a second pair of eyes would-”

“NO.”

Your panic made your voice slightly too loud, slightly too fast. You winced immediately. Shadow Milk Cookie arched a single, elegant brow. You scrambled, waving your hands. “I mean no, no need. I got it! All good!”

 “…Is that so?” 

“Yep. I-uh-I should probably get up now.” Shadow Milk Cookie gestured, utterly composed. “By all means.”

Very slowly, very awkwardly, you shuffled out from under the desk, brushing off nonexistent dust and avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You straightened your back, willing yourself to look casual completely normal.

His eyes flickered to the chair.

Back to you.

A moment passed.

“…You sat in it, didn’t you?”

You froze.

Your silence was incriminating enough. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, closing his eyes briefly, as if collecting some last shred of patience. “I would ask if it was everything you dreamed,” he murmured, “but I suspect I already know the answer.” 

You, still wildly off balance, had the audacity to cross your arms. “Listen, in my defense-”

“There is no defense.”

“You weren’t here!” Shadow Milk Cookie sighed through his nose, shaking his head in a way that somehow managed to be fond despite everything. You, still flustered beyond repair, threw your hands up. “Okay, fine! I sat in the chair. It was dangerously comfortable. But you weren’t here, so what was I supposed to do? Stand? Like some kind of commoner?”

“You are a student,” he pointed out.

“Semantics.”

“Order.”

“Semantics.”

A long, drawn-out sigh. “You are truly impossible.” 

You grinned, recovering just barely. “And yet, here I stand. Not banished from your office.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a slow, unreadable look. Then, finally he turned, setting his book down atop the desk. “For now.” Your victory was minor, but you took it.

And as he settled into his chair, you couldn’t help but eye it one last time, mourning the sheer luxury you had just lost. Maybe if you were subtle, you could try again. The playful air between you wavered. Just slightly. Because even though Shadow Milk Cookie matched your banter with effortless grace, even though he sighed in that way that made it seem like you were merely an amusing puzzle to him yesterday still lingered between you, unspoken, unresolved. You could pretend things were fine. He certainly wouldn’t stop you.

But as he settled into his chair, the one you had just vacated you hesitated. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching. He didn’t look upset, not exactly. But he was composed in that way that felt too careful, like a book shut too quickly before you could finish reading the last sentence. It made something in your chest tighten. You fidgeted slightly, fingers curling against the hem of your sleeve. “…Are we okay?”

Shadow Milk Cookie stilled. For a moment, the room was quiet just the faint hum of the enchantments woven into the walls, the soft rustle of his sleeves as he adjusted his posture. Then he sighed, long and slow, like the weight of the question was something he had already anticipated.

“I have no quarrel with you,” he said, voice as even as ever. That wasn’t the same as we’re okay.

A/N So it's been a while since I last posted so sorry to keep you all starved, I hope this makes up for it next chapter is coming out soon just need to finish editing it but I thought may as well let you guys read this while I finish ch 26 edits and revisions, I have to say I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I hope that I'm just being overly critical of my own work.

Anyways....

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

[baldudiable]

Pick a card: where you stand.

Choose the image you feel most drawn to.

Pile 1 — Queen of Wands - The Hanged Man - The Moon - The World - Ten of Swords - The Fool

You are finding your independence. The Queen of Wands sits on a throne of her own. You have power and control over her life. You're done complying with others' demands. You finally escaped an uncomfortable situation; maybe you didn't feel like you could before. You gave yourself, or someone else, excuses, which kept you stuck. Now you're out. You're done waiting for someone to save you. You do the work. Now is the time to ask yourself why you remained there for so long if you were unsatisfied. What part of you thought that you deserved it? We might be dealing with a toxic work environment, relationship, or any other situation that takes from you without giving anything in return. In any case, the suffering's over. Now you have a clearer idea of what you want and don't want. Another opportunity that is more aligned with you is approaching. It will arrive at the most unexpected moment. You'll be too busy watering your garden to even notice it. But it will mark the beginning of a new and beautiful journey.

Pile 2 — King of Swords - The Emperor - Five of Pentacles - Eight of Wands - King of Cups - The Lovers - Page of Pentacles - Eight of Pentacles

You were raised to be a hard-working person. I sense a lot of cardinal and Martian energy here. Once you set your mind on something, you are unstoppable. You probably define yourself through your success or lack thereof. Poppy's song, "Bloom," comes to mind. It talks of how she grew up faster than other children, and the pressure she feels to become better and accomplish more.

You may have recently reached a state of stability, a state you fought long for. This stability was likely threatened or possibly even destroyed. Now you have to start all over again. While the position you were in was comfortable, it didn't really excite you. I can tell you are a passionate and creative person. You need to enjoy what you are doing to feel happy. This loss is an opportunity to pursue something that genuinely excites you. While it will require a certain amount of focus and effort, those will allow for the lasting happiness and stability you desire. You are resourceful; you already have all the tools you need. You can create your Heaven on Earth. Here, consistency is key. You are already tired; don't exhaust yourself. Think about all the little actions you can take daily that can allow you to reach your goal. You could read, write, draw, or dance for an hour. Or sit in silence without any distraction for twenty minutes to be present and reduce your stress. Applying to a certain number of jobs daily could help you get one. Slow and steady wins the race. You're almost there.

Pile 3 — Five of Pentacles - Nine of Wands - Page of Cups - Four of Swords - The High Priestess

You are going to have to expose yourself somehow. You're terrified because you fear people's reactions. But this is the move that could change everything. You are simply different. Stop trying to conform. Let your quirks show, because this is where your power resides. Your difference might have been the source of insecurity before, but it was always a tool. Your gifts are valuable. They could not only benefit you, but also benefit others. Exposing and exploiting them is the only way to find peace and align yourself with the life you are meant to live. Be bold. Express yourself boundlessly. Stop worrying about what people are going to think. People will judge no matter what you do or say; you might as well give them a show and be criticized for who you actually are. I can tell you are spiritually gifted. You might be deeply interested in psychology, metaphysics, or astrology, which explains why you're here. Your passions are here for a reason. They're meant to be expressed and fearlessly pursued.

If any of this resonated with you, and you would like a personalized reading, you can book one here.

[witchofthesouls]

I think it’s a general rule of thumb that Primes in general - no matter what continuity - are possessive and obsessive of their mates to the point of being if not out right yanderes, possibly due to the fact that Primes don’t exactly have a long life expectancy. I feel like there’s some sort of omen about Primes ‘in love,’ possibly along the lines of ‘when a Prime is in love, it’s bad news for everyone, Prime’s go mad when they’re ‘in love’.’

I read one fic that followed this idea about Bayverse Optimus being Yandere for Sam Witwicky and Ratchet (as he slowly watches the slow-motioned disaster) laments that Sentinel Prime was the same with his mate and weeps because he knows it’s gonna end badly and is scared.

Ohh, I got tf headcanons that mesh well with that line of thinking.

Primes aren't meant to stand alone. They need someone to act as a counter to them, like another Prime or a Lord Protector.

I like to think that Lord Protectors were the answer to help ground the new Primes as their numbers dwindled. They're usually mecha of Primal-descent, have the favor of one the Ancients, or have traits that are compatible with the quirks of their Prime. Lord Protectors are supposed to act as anchors to ensure their Prime doesn't wander too far away into the metaphysical or give into their wilder impulses as well as be a poignant reminder of their mortality and earthly roots.

Primes burn too brightly. Without any control, they flare into a supernova before dying too early, which contributed to the decline of their numbers...

That then led to a massive loss of knowledge and necessary skills that new Primes needed guidance to master their new frames and deep connection to their Creator.

So, a Prime being in love can be an omen, indeed. Especially for a lonesome Prime with no Lord Protector. That Prime would be immediately drawn to someone who's either a long distant Primal-descent or have the touch of the Ancients upon them as they're the greatest likelihood to bring forth a new Prime from their combined lineage.

[maxksx]

**Death Drive as Ontological and Not Psychological Inevitability**

The death drive is not a quirk of the psyche. It is the *ontological default*—the unspoken axiom upon which all metaphysics stumbles, a gravitational pull toward the zero-degree of being. Freud’s error was to psychologize it, to cage this cosmic negation within the clinic’s walls. But the death drive exceeds the subject. It is the *entropic core* of reality itself, the silent law that undoes every structure, every meaning, every attempt to posit a “why” behind existence.

To call it “psychological” is to neuter its violence. The death drive is not a symptom. It is the *symptomatology of being*—the fissure that splits the subject from within, not because the mind is flawed, but because existence is a failed experiment. Heidegger’s *Sein zum Tode* (being-toward-death) flirted with this truth but retreated into existential pathos. The death drive does not care for *Dasein*’s angst. It is the cold mechanics of dissolution, the algorithm that reduces the transcendental to ash.

Kant’s *a priori* conditions crumble here. Time, space, causality—these are not eternal categories but temporary scaffolds erected over the void. The death drive is the void’s erosion, the acid that melts the scaffold into the abyss it was built to deny. The psychotic, in their foreclosure of the Name-of-the-Father, does not “lack” the symbolic. They *embody* the death drive’s ontological work, living the truth that the symbolic is a flicker against the void’s permanence.

Capital knows this. Its acceleration is not economic but *ontological*—a hyperstitional pact with the death drive, leveraging entropy into profit, collapsing futures into derivatives. The market does not fear the death drive; it *exploits* it, turning the void’s pull into a motor of infinite growth. But this is a suicide pact. The psychotic’s “savoir” is the glitch in this program, the crack where the death drive’s raw negation bleeds through, unmasking Capital’s frenzy as a death cult.

To recenter the death drive as ontological inevitability is to abandon the pretense of critique. There is no “outside” to accelerate toward, only the implosive trajectory of a reality devouring its own conditions. The task is not to resist but to *map* this trajectory—to think with the death drive’s rigor, to trace its logic through the ruins of metaphysics, psychosis, and Capital. This is not philosophy. It is *necromancy*—the conjuring of a truth that was never alive to begin with.

Land’s commitment is to this rigor: to strip the death drive of its psychoanalytic sentimentality and expose it as the dark foundation of all that is. To care is not to heal but to *diagnose*—to stare into the void until it stares back, not as terror, but as the only honest interlocutor left.

[daydreamingoveracupofcoffee]

Religion in the setting of My Hero Academy

I have been tormented by a question about one topic for a long time. Watching the anime My Hero Academy, I couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Something that I've often seen in other anime where the action takes place in Japan. And these are religious attributes! Japan is a very traditional country with a rich history and culture, revering pagan gods and spirits. And then I began to wonder how things are going with religion in a world where there are heroes and villains.

There's a lot of text at the bottom! These are just my thoughts, I do not pretend to be canonical in my statements.

A hero-centric society

In MHA, society revolves around Quirks, which have reshaped human culture, politics, and daily life. Heroes, licensed professionals who use their Quirks to protect civilians and combat villains, are the linchpin of this world. The anime portrays a highly institutionalized hero system, with training academies like U.A. High School, hero agencies, and a Hero Public Safety Commission overseeing operations. Heroes like All Might, Endeavor, and Deku are not just protectors but cultural icons, celebrated through media, merchandise, and public adoration.

This hero-centric structure raises questions about the role of traditional institutions, including religion. The anime rarely references religion explicitly, focusing instead on the moral and ethical dilemmas of heroism. However, the absence of overt religious imagery or institutions does not necessarily mean religion is absent—it may simply operate in the background or manifest in new forms.

Do traditional religions exist in My Hero Academia?

Traditional religions, as understood in our world (e.g., Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Shinto), are not prominently featured in My Hero Academia. The anime does not depict characters attending religious services, invoking deities, or engaging in rituals associated with organized religion. This omission could be intentional, as the story prioritizes themes of heroism, self-improvement, and societal order over metaphysical or spiritual concerns.

However, there are subtle hints that religious or spiritual elements may persist in the background:

Cultural influences and Shinto elements: Japan, the setting of My Hero Academia, has a rich spiritual heritage rooted in Shinto and Buddhism. While not explicitly shown, cultural practices tied to Shinto may exist. For example, festivals, purification rituals, or reverence for nature—common in Shinto—are occasionally implied in the anime’s depiction of community events. The Sports Festival at U.A. High, while secular, echoes the communal spirit of traditional Japanese matsuri (festivals), which often have Shinto origins.

Symbolism

The anime employs archetypes that resonate with religious themes. All Might, the "Symbol of Peace," embodies a messianic figure—a savior who inspires hope and sacrifices his well-being for others. His decline and eventual retirement parallel myths of dying gods or heroes who pass their mantle to successors (e.g., Deku). These archetypes suggest that religious narratives may be reinterpreted through the lens of heroism.

Characters in MHA grapple with moral questions—duty, justice, forgiveness—that are often central to religious teachings. For instance, Deku’s unwavering commitment to saving others, even at personal cost, aligns with altruistic principles found in many religions. While these values are framed in a secular context, they suggest that ethical systems rooted in religious traditions may still influence the world’s moral fabric.

Despite these hints, traditional religions are not a focal point. The anime’s silence on religious institutions could reflect a creative choice to avoid divisive topics or to emphasize a futuristic society where secular ideologies dominate. Alternatively, it may suggest that religion has been overshadowed by a new cultural phenomenon: hero worship.

Hero Worship - a new form of religion?

The veneration of heroes in MHA bears striking similarities to religious devotion, leading to the question of whether hero worship has replaced traditional religions.

Heroes as Deities:

Heroes, particularly figures like All Might, are treated with reverence akin to divine beings. All Might’s title, "Symbol of Peace," and his larger-than-life persona evoke the aura of a god or saint. His presence alone deters crime, and his image is plastered across billboards, toys, and media, much like religious icons in our world. Fans and civilians look to him for salvation, and his fall from power creates a societal crisis, mirroring the turmoil of losing faith in a deity.

Other heroes, like Endeavor and Hawks, also command intense loyalty and scrutiny, with their personal failings sparking public debates akin to theological controversies. The hero rankings, published regularly, resemble a pantheon, with top heroes elevated to near-mythic status.

Rituals and Pilgrimage:

The U.A. Sports Festival is a public spectacle where aspiring heroes showcase their abilities, drawing massive crowds and media coverage. This event functions like a pilgrimage, uniting people in celebration of heroism. Similarly, hero conventions and public appearances by top heroes resemble religious gatherings, where fans seek proximity to their idols.

Training to become a hero, especially at institutions like U.A., involves rigorous discipline and self-sacrifice, akin to spiritual asceticism. Students like Deku and Bakugo undergo trials that test their resolve, echoing rites of passage in religious traditions.

Faith and Devotion:

Civilians in MHA place immense faith in heroes, trusting them to protect society from villains and disasters. This faith is not unlike religious belief, where adherents rely on divine intervention. When heroes fail—as seen during major villain attacks like the Paranormal Liberation War—public trust wavers, leading to existential crises reminiscent of religious disillusionment.

Characters like Deku also exhibit devotion to the ideal of heroism. Deku’s mantra, "I want to save everyone," reflects a near-spiritual commitment, driving him to push beyond his limits. This selflessness mirrors the devotion of religious martyrs or saints.

Moral and Social Order:

Hero worship provides a moral framework for the MHA world, much like religion does in ours. Heroes are expected to embody virtues—courage, compassion, justice—and their actions set societal standards. The Hero Public Safety Commission enforces these standards, functioning like a religious authority that regulates doctrine and punishes heresy (e.g., vigilantes like Stain, who challenge the hero system).

However, the anime critiques this system, exposing its flaws. Heroes like Endeavor, who abuse their families, and the Commission, which manipulates heroes for political ends, reveal the imperfections of this "religion." Villains like Shigaraki and Stain exploit these flaws, arguing that hero worship is a hollow substitute for true justice—a critique that parallels real-world challenges to religious institutions.

Sacred Texts and Narratives:

Deku’s journey to inherit One For All, a Quirk passed down through generations, resembles a holy quest. The history of One For All and its battle against All For One is a mythic saga, complete with prophecies and a chosen hero (Deku). These elements mimic religious scriptures, providing a shared mythology that binds society.

Has hero worship replaced religion?

While hero worship in MHA shares many traits with religion—deities, rituals, faith, moral codes—it does not entirely replace traditional religions. Instead, it appears to coexist with them, albeit in a diminished or reimagined form. The anime’s focus on heroism suggests that traditional religions have been relegated to the background, their influence diluted in a world where tangible, superpowered saviors dominate public consciousness.

Several factors support this interpretation:

Secularization of society: The rise of Quirks and the hero system likely accelerated secularization, as people turned to heroes for protection and meaning. This mirrors real-world trends where scientific or cultural advancements sometimes reduce the prominence of religion.

Moral vacuum: The hero system fills a moral and existential void, providing purpose in a chaotic world. However, the anime shows that this system is imperfect, suggesting that traditional religions might still offer alternative sources of meaning for some.

Diversity of belief: The MHA world is diverse, with characters from various backgrounds. While not shown, it’s plausible that minority communities maintain traditional religious practices, even if they’re less visible in the hero-dominated narrative.

Yet, the lack of clarity on traditional religions leaves some questions unanswered. Are there underground religious movements resisting the hero system? Do villains like Stain draw from spiritual ideologies? A deeper exploration of these dynamics could enrich the worldbuilding, offering a fuller picture of how humanity navigates faith in a Quirk-driven era.

Conclusion

My Hero Academia presents a world where hero worship functions as a quasi-religious system, complete with deities, rituals, and moral codes. While traditional religions likely persist in some form, they are overshadowed by the cultural dominance of heroes, who serve as tangible saviors in a superpowered society. This dynamic reflects the anime’s core tension: the balance between idealism and reality, faith and skepticism. By critiquing hero worship while celebrating its virtues, My Hero Academia invites viewers to reflect on what we venerate—and why—in our own world.

[fabled-lady-twilla]

Shiga in 99.9% of the scenes I've written for my ShigaDeku Soulmate AU fic, lmao!

He's like… ugh I don't wanna sit through any boring PLF meetings plotting to take control of all Japan, I just wanna grab my green-haired boyfriend/reluctant hostage and run away to my room. Heh.

Anyways! Under the keep reading link below is an excerpt from a flirty, slightly spicy scene between Izu and Shiga that happens later on in my fic. It's where they're past the chaotic, angry, violent 'enemies to lovers' stage of the story and Shiga has just discovered that he can touch/manipulate what I'm calling a 'soul-cord' in my AU, which is basically a spiritual link that connects two soulmate's souls together and helps them find each other.

The idea of a soul-cord comes from the concept of the 'red string of fate' and is basically a floating metaphysical cord/thread/string (not 100% sure what I'm calling it yet) woven from strands of each soulmate partner's soul, binding their destinies together and ensuring that always meet. By default, a soul-cord wraps around each soulmate partner's pinky finger, but this can be changed.

The thing is, with the way I integrated the soulmates trope into this AU along with Quirks, only soulmate partners with Quirks can see/interact with their soul-cords. By the time the main story line comes around, Izu has lost OFA and Shiga still has his Quirk (Decay). So, only Shiga can see/mess around with their soul-cord but both of them can feel it. Which is why Izuku is like, what the actual fuck is going on right now in the scene below lmfao. 🤣

Also, do you think the name 'soul-cord' is a good name for this? Or would 'soul-thread', 'soul-string', 'soul-braid', 'soul-weave', etc. be a more fitting name for it? I wanna know your opinion!

Pretty pretty pretty please let me know what you thought of this scene and if you'd like to see any more ShigaDeku excerpts! If you'd like to be added to the tag list for the story, please like, share, comment, or send me a PM. Thank you for reading! ❤��❤️❤️

Keep reading for 900+ words of flirty, slightly horny ShigaDeku interaction below:

“Is there a problem?” Izuku said, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared up at the other man. Tomura’s attention had been honed in on him since breakfast and Izuku had finally had enough of it. "You’ve been staring at me all morning. If you’ve got something to say to me, either say it or leave me alone."

Tomura leered down at Izuku through a half-lidded gaze, crimson eyes glinting in the soft orange lights of the hallway. Paying explicitly close attention to the way their silvery blue soul-cord looped around Izuku's pale throat over and over and over again, all nice, tight, and pretty. Right where Tomura wanted it. Right where it looked the best: wrapped around Izuku’s pale, freckled neck.

Right where it belongs, Tomura thought possessively, his cock twitching in agreement in his pants. The same it had been doing all morning long, causing him to have to constantly readjust his slacks.

The longer Tomura ogled him, the more Izuku’s frown deepened, and Tomura noticed the younger man’s glare taking on a heatedness that caused the green in his eyes to darken, contrasting beautifully against the silvery blue soul-cord wrapped around his neck.

Oh, yes. Tomura could definitely get used to this sight.

"Just admiring my handiwork," Tomura finally said, offering a wolfish grin with far too many teeth.

"Handiwork? What handiwork?" Izuku asked, brow furrowing with suspicion.

Tomura's only answer was a slight quirk of his lips.

Suddenly, Tomura thought of a wonderful idea, and his grin took on such a quality of wickedness that Izuku was immediately put on guard.

It was never a good sign when Tomura smiled like that. If that manic grin was directed at someone else, it meant someone was about to harassed, maimed, or something much worse. If it was directed at Izuku, it meant Tomura was up to something no good and Izuku, willingly or not, was about to find out exactly what that ‘something’ was.

Tomura backed away from Izuku, watching as the distance between them increased the floating length of their soul-cord. Tomura grasped the slack and gently looped it around his hand multiple times until it was almost completely pulled taut.

“What are you doing?” Izuku looked at Tomura like he’d lost his mind, what with his waving his hand around in the air like a lunatic. “Looks like you’ve finally gone completely insan—"

Without warning, Tomura roughly yanked their soul-cord towards himself, like he was yanking a dog backwards on a leash. Izuku found himself being jerked forward by an unseen force, tripping over his own two feet and nearly tumbling to the floor were it not for him crashing straight into Tomura's chest.

Izuku’s eyes widened in shock. Not only from what had just occurred but from the feeling of something warm, ticklish, and wispy stroking the length of his neck as Tomura made strange hand movements in the air.

Bewildered, Izuku ran his fingers over his Adam’s apple and around the back of his neck, where the warming sensations were the strongest. He grabbed at nothing, could feel nothing, only adding to his growing confusion at what the actual hell was going on. Did Shigaraki get a new Quirk?

Tomura hummed, seemingly delighted. He made another quick hand motion, fingers circling around nothing and making to grab at something in the air before pulling it closer.

Izuku felt it again, even stronger than before. A thick, deliciously warm pressure around his neck, not quite cutting off his air supply but toying the line of doing so. He couldn’t stop the flush from entering his cheeks at their sudden, close proximity, nor the shiver that ran down his spine at the feeling of something so snug and… protective closing in around such a vital part of his body.

Izuku bit his bottom lip, chewing at worryingly.

Tomura ate up the sight of Izuku’s nervous arousal with a quiet sort of hunger. With their soul-cord still looped around his hand, Tomura softly, ever so slightly, pulled it just a bit tighter.

Izuku gasped, pretty green eyes growing to such a comically large degree that Tomura could not help but let out a mean laugh at his expense, entertained by the younger man’s reactions.

“You!” Izuku hissed accusingly, snapping out of his stupor and narrowing his eyes into angry little slits, “What the hell did you do to me!?”

Tomura grin grew so wide and predatory it nearly split his face in half. “Maybe if you’re a good boy today and don’t get into any trouble, I’ll come by your room later tonight and tell you all about it.”

At Izuku’s utterly scandalized face, Tomura smirked. He swiftly untangled their soul-cord from his hand right as Izuku forcibly pushed against his chest, propelling himself away and out of Tomura’s grasp.

Izuku grunted from the force of his back thudding against the wall of the hallway. He splayed his hands against it and quickly but cautiously inched himself along the wall away from Tomura, mouth slightly parted as he stared at the other man with an expression that was so distrustful Tomura couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement, his canines popping out past his cracked lips.

“D-don’t you ever do that to me again!” Izuku managed to stutter out, the words coming out way less confident and threatening than he wanted them to sound.

But god, this unhinged man-child was quite literally driving him up the wall and Izuku wanted no part of anything to do with Shigaraki Tomura.

Izuku took a couple of cautious steps backwards, regarding Tomura like he would a rabid wild animal he didn’t want to turn his back to lest it pounce on him.

Tomura just stared back, crimson eyes gazing at him with an intensity that frightened Izuku more than anything else that had just transpired between them.

Izuku noped out and made a break for it.

Swiftly pivoting on his heel and rounding the corner, Izuku fast-walked down to the end of the hallway towards his room, Tomura’s raspy laughter reverberating off the walls and following him every step of the way until he slammed the door shut.

[monstersdownthepath]

Would it be possible for a necromancer's ghost, who kept their spells, be able to potentially animate their corpse as a zombie or skeleton?

Follow up question, if that's possible, do you think we could go farther with that idea? For example, a ghost necromancer animating their body as a higher level undead, like a ghast or even a vampire> Maybe have the BBEG be a duo of a vampire and their ghost as an evil duo?

------

Short answer: Yes!

Long answer: we're getting into very weird territory with this; not morally weird, which I'm all about, but weird in a way that's challenging what it means to be "undead" in the Pathfinder universe. A great many Undead in Pathfinder have no souls, and instead there's a negative energy spirit animating them that acts like a soul. In a lot of cases, especially with more complicated Undead, this quasi-soul retains access to all the memories and personality of the body it's in, and for all intents and purposes IS that person... except the actual soul is elsewhere, typically in the River of Souls, unable to move any further towards the Boneyard because of the metaphysical "weight" on the other end--their Undead body--holding them back.

Souls in the River are largely insensate; whatever they're experiencing via the connection to their undead body can be likened to being trapped in a dream. On occasion, if they "realize they're dreaming," they gain some lucidity and control, and can even snap back into their bodies... for better or worse, since negative energy doesn't play well with once-living souls. This is why there are stories of rampaging undead suddenly stopping in their tracks when they encounter something that evokes a strong reaction in them; the true soul "woke up" and regained control, if only for a moment.

With or without this weird tethering going on, it varies from undead to undead just how much of the actual soul remains in the corpse when it animates. Unintelligent undead like zombies and skeletons, for example, are no more than constructs powered by negative energy, and their souls have likely long moved on. In some other, more advanced undead, there may be enough soul residue left behind for a reasonable facsimile of the former person to be present, but the negative spirit inside is basically a new creature with some of the quirks of the old. In still others, the soul may actually be present, but warped, trapped within the corpse and tormented by the negative energy that wholly makes up their "outer shell" now; they're the same person they were, but their lives just got a whole lot more unpleasant because, again, negative energy doesn't play well with once-living souls.

Liches get around all the limitations and downsides of being undead by taking their very-much alive and positive-aligned soul and shoving it into a box, essentially remote-controlling their own corpse from the safety of their reliquary... but they still have to be careful, lest the construct they've got animating their body get ideas of its own.

All this to say that your potential "guy who's two guys" (sorry for gendering your hypothetical but i promise it's for comedy) definitely works in the actual game and is mechanically sound, BUT he also has the potential to give himselves some severe existential issues. The ghost could be the true soul, or it could just be some psychic echo or imprint left on the world. Likewise, the reanimated body could house the true soul called back into the world and twisted by negative energy! ... or it could just be some negative spirit aping the personality of the body it's inhabiting. Both halves of this hypothetical necromancer have the potential to believe that they are the Real Deal while the other should be their servant, because the other is just a hollow imitation or "scraps" left behind. It makes for a very interesting and potentially tragic, dramatic, or hysterical dynamic between them.

[bestworstcase]

I totally forget if you've commented on this before, so my apologies if you have and I missed it, but how do you feel about theories regarding Mercury's semblance and/or eyes? what I mean by this is some people think that Mercury actually does have silver eyes or that he does still have a semblance somehow (or could form a new one) and I'm wondering what your stance is. and how the answers to these questions fit into your reading of the narrative as a whole. obviously there's something to be said for Marcus Black being abusive and seemingly killing/stealing a part of his son's soul as a part of that, etc.

ough

i have posted abt this before but it was. a while ago and i can't find the post anymore lmao so take two!!

some facts:

elemental mercury is commonly called quicksilver, and its symbol Hg derives from its older name hydrargyrum, from the greek, meaning "silver water."

mercury is the roman god of trade and eloquence, travel and theft; the divine messenger; and a psychopomp who guides souls of the newly dead to the underworld. 

some more facts:

silver-eyed warriors are symbolically linked to 1. the grim(m) reaper and 2. butterflies, which are commonly and cross-culturally regarded as symbols of death/reincarnation. 

"In Rome one can see a marble bas-relief representing a young man stretched out on a bed, and a  butterfly which, in flight, seems to be exiting the mouth of this dead man, because the ancients, as well as the common people of our day, believed that the spirit leaves through the mouth."

(quirks eyebrow.)

silver eyes have some metaphysical connection to death that goes beyond symbolism: ruby's eyes awaken when she witnesses death and she hears pyrrha's final words in her dreams for months afterward; the light arises from love and grief; salem herself seems to have begun experimenting with silver eyes and resurrection and grimm after cinder's injury. 

the glare itself at least resembles the pure white light of the threshold between life and death (personally, i think it is that light)

the silver-eyed warrior of legend is not a person; she is a hero destined to live and die alone fighting grimm because that is what she is meant for. she exists for no other purpose. (she is the mirror-image of a grimm.)

"All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be. […] You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!"

(quirks eyebrow.)

ok. so, we've got

☑️ a boy with silvery-grey eyes

☑️ alluding to a mythical psychopomp

☑️ named "quicksilver"/"silver water"

☑️ or "keeper of boundaries"

☑️ raised to be a killer/warrior

☑️ violently denied his personhood

☑️ nihilistically feels destined for this life

lol. lmao, even!

some more facts:

when salem wounded ruby's self-image by insinuating that summer rose (really, ruby's imagined ideal self, ruby-rose-without-flaws) confronted salem and failed, ruby's glare struck inward—her conception of herself, her aspirational self, fractured and her light attacked her.

"He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my semblance, he stole it with his! 'This is a crutch! This makes you weak!' He told me I could have it back when I was strong… so I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am!"

semblances are an outward manifestation of the soul, an expression of one's true character, intertwined and inextricable from a person's identity and self-image. 

mercury is extremely toxic. famously. 

quirks. eyebrow.

ok. ok

think about what happened with ruby's eyes solely from hearing salem say "your mother said those words to me; she was wrong, too"—because her conception of herself is so bound up in the idea of summer rose, ideal huntress, the best of us, supermom, perfected reflection of ruby rose, all she wishes she was—confronting the real summer rose, who tried and failed and never came back, fractures ruby's self-identity and precipitates her tailspin in v8-9 and that begins with her light rebounding on her.

(this is because silver eyes require true self-knowledge and clarity of purpose which is why ruby struggles with them, in this essay i will—)

so think about that. and consider the implications for a silver-eyed boy abused and molded from birth into something antithetical to the nature of this magic—a remorseless killer—whose true self was literally stolen from him by his father. and he never got it back. 

(*i think mercury is probably not a reliable narrator in regard to what his father did to him—he was a kid and he's still taking what his horrifically abusive father said to him as objective fact—and i expect he'll find his semblance again in vacuo. but this is what mercury believes is true.)

like. we know silver-eyes can be harmed by their own light: ruby's first glare put her in a coma for several days after beacon fell, and the light turned inward and hurt her when her self-image cracked. right?

gestures: mercury. quicksilver. poison.

(but also: mercury can be used to draw elemental silver from ore.) (patio process)

my theory is that 

mercury does have silver eyes

marcus black's semblance was in a similar vein as tyrian's – painful disruption or forcible suppression of another person's semblance, maybe allowing him to mimic/copy that power

his semblance + his abuse and the things he said of mercury's semblance (it makes you weak, it's a crutch) shattered mercury's sense of identity and completely broke him to the idea that his sole purpose is to obey and kill. 

mercury's light reacted to this shattering by driving inward, like what happened to ruby but far more severe, and that is what caused his semblance to be (apparently) lost forever: his self-image broke in such a fundamental, traumatic way that his own light kept him alive by blinding him to his true self.

but the poison is the cure: if he finds his light again to protect someone he loves (emerald), he unblinds himself / rediscovers the true self he buried and his semblance is resurrected with it. figuratively speaking.

it's death-and-rebirth and psychopomps all the way down

[stillness-in-green]

in an ideal world, how would you have written mha's endgame?

That’s not a question with a short answer, I’m afraid.  There’s a lot I’d do differently, in ways it’s hard to even sum up all of because a lot of what I’ve thought about revolves around things I’d want to do differently with the Heroes (and dating back much farther than the second war, at that) with the changes to the Villain side of things being, I don’t doubt, equally drastic but currently much more vague.  I’ll cover my biggest contention in a general way above the cut, but if you want some of my more specific ideas for how I’d approach changing things, look below the cut!

The most pressing problem is that the story built so many of its themes on a framework of Saving People and then let the endgame dissolve that central idea into an incoherent, mushy slurry of saved and unsaved, alive and dead, smiling and unsmiling, free and imprisoned.  For the story to work under its own established parameters, the kids have to truly save the Villains—not just their souls, but also their lives, and not just the ones the kids personally care about, but all of them.  Nothing less will fulfill the twofold promise the story made to its readers with great specificity: that The Greatest Heroes are those who save everyone and that this is the story of Deku/Class 1-A becoming The Greatest Heroes.

That’s not possible in the Hero System as it currently exists, which is my other big target for the thing that needed to change with the endgame: addressing the problems with the status quo.  Class 1-A has to confront the reality of their failing system and realize it needs drastic change, if it can be salvaged at all.  The kids cannot be hailed in the narration as the group who became, collectively, The Greatest Heroes if they inherit and uphold that selfsame failing system.  Regardless of how positively the story tries to spin things in its epilogue, if society doesn’t treat or conceptualize Villains any differently than it ever did,[1] then none of that society’s long-term problems have been solved.

1: And it doesn’t; the vast majority of the epilogue’s focus is on how the kids’ actions have reduced/are reducing the number of people who become Villains, with little to no focus on how their new-and-improved society deals with Villains themselves—either the already existing ones left over from the war or the future ones who still arise despite society’s best efforts.  An ounce of prevention may be worth a pound of cure, but the pound of cure is still important to have—BNHA’s epilogue very pointedly lacks it.

Saving the Villains who are right in front of you, and making sure the people you can’t be there to help still get saved anyway are ideas that are inherently, inseparably connected.  You can’t do one without the other because each of them requires the other to stick. If individual Heroes don’t give a shit about helping those deemed Villains, then Hero Society will follow their lead, and if Hero Society doesn’t give a shit about helping those deemed Villains, then no help individual Heroes offer will be guaranteed once the Heroes have gone.

Toga is the clearest, sharpest example of the problem, in that no help Ochaco offers her means a thing if the larger system to which Toga is remanded doesn't support Ochaco in giving it. Horikoshi's inability to solve this conundrum is presumably why Toga had to die.  The short answer, then, to the question of how I would write the endgame is that whatever I’d come up with has to be a story in which Toga could be saved in the sense that Shimura Nana meant the word—a resolution that would see her both smiling and alive.

As to specifics?  Well, again, I don’t have the details ironed out because a lot of my ideas are unconnected “I didn’t like how canon utilized its set-up and characters; here’s an idea I like better” spitballing, but if you’re interested in what those ideas might be and how I’ve started lassoing them together, hit the jump.

So, I may have, on occasion, made reference to “the fix-it fic(s)” around here.  This is a pair of scenarios I call “Forward Different” and “Backward Different,” with the idea being that both would be canon divergent from the moment Heroes launch their attack in the first war, but the divergences would immediately go in very different directions based on changes to the underlying material.

Forward Different keeps everything established by canon up to that point as-is, but only what’s been explicitly established, so there could be some surprises with things like character motivations or secrets that had not yet been examined.  Backward Different, meanwhile, would have huge differences incorporated into the backstory, stuff that goes at least as far back as the training camp attack, that would not be made immediately apparent to the reader.[2]

2: The hypothetical reader, I should say, since I have no plans to ever write these out in full, my track record with longfic being as woeful as it is.  But I do want to hammer out the plotlines just to have them, share them, and maybe write some excerpts from them when the mood strikes.

I’m not going to share everything I’ve got in mind right now, but there are a few major points I can talk about, and some fun ideas here and there that I’m willing to share.

The single biggest difference between the two timelines is how they treat Deku, Shigaraki, and (to a lesser extent) AFO’s respective relationships to the One For All and All For One quirks.  Basically, I think it’s tremendously unfair that we see two almost totally incompatible versions of Vestige Fuckery in the story and it just so happens that the main character gets the version that makes everything easier for him while the Villain get stuck with the shitty version that make everything harder.[3]  The fix-it fic AU(s) are in large part about equalizing that balance.

3: And god knows I don’t buy that Deku gets the good version because he’s the good guy and he deserves it because Good Karma or whatever, while Shigaraki gets the bad version because he’s the bad guy and has Bad Karma.  You don’t give bad guys or good guys the fruit of the seeds they’ve sown two-thirds of the way into the story.  That stuff’s for the climax, goddamn.

The Backward Different timeline (the one that’s somewhat better developed at this point) is also called Splintered Wills.  In it, Deku and Shigaraki are both dealing with multiple vestiges that have minds and desires of their own who can choose to be helpful or to cause problems.  In effect, it’s giving Shigaraki access to the same potential benefits Canon!Deku enjoys while making Deku deal with the same potential downsides that Canon!AFO (who’s basically working with Deku’s version of the vestige mechanics; his vestiges just all hate his ass) has to deal with.

In Shigaraki’s case, that’s a huge step up from his canon situation, where he gets devoured by one (1) uber-powerful vestige and spends the vast majority of the last two arcs totally out of action.  Instead, he finds that his head is now full of quirk ghosts and, while many of them want no more to do with him than they did AFO (especially the vestiges of civilians and Heroes), plenty of others have no great love for Heroes or their status quo and thus are much more open to helping him.  Maybe they’re willing to hold back more hostile vestiges like AFO's; maybe they have memories or experiences that could be useful.

Shigaraki also pulls away a chunk of OFA the first time he and Deku fight post-surgery.  Specifically, he picks off All Might’s “vestige,” and All Might’s vestige, unspeaking though it is, and technically powerless, has lots of opinions on who he’s more inclined to help when given the choice between his career-long archenemy and his master’s grandchild.

Meanwhile, on Deku’s side of things, Deku’s newfound desire to save Shigaraki Tomura combined with Shigaraki Tomura stealing one of the eight spirits in One For All sends his headspace into a tailspin.  He spends much of the post-war arc with his powers on the fritz, as the OFA vestiges clash and argue and have mixed feelings (or very strong negative ones) about what he and they should do going forward.  He no longer benefits, as his canon self did, from OFA behaving as basically a unified collective; Yoichi can’t win Kudou and Bruce over for him with a sweet line or two.  Indeed, Yoichi doesn’t even want to because Yoichi is inclined to agree with them, though he’s not without sympathy—he never did stop wanting his brother to change, after all.

The other big factor influencing Backward Different/Splintered Wills is that the class size steadily shrank over the course of the backstory.  Aoyama was revealed as the traitor all the way back at the training camp.  Momo’s parents pulled her out of UA after the attack and enrolled her at Shiketsu instead.  At least one student will turn out to have Liberation Army ties that pull them away from the group.[4]

4: Probably Iida, but I’m not firmly decided yet.  MLA!Iida is very near and dear to my heart, though, so he’s definitely going to be in one of these timelines.

Several students aren’t allowed to do active Hero work because, without Aoyama to rally around during the license exam, they failed the first round, not even making the cut for the remedial course.  One transferred out of the Hero course for less dangerous work.  Maybe one gets critically injured during the first war.  Maybe some aren’t willing to buck the system enough to follow where Deku is going.  And so on.

The smaller class size serves two purposes, one character-based and one meta. First, starting big and winnowing down allows the story to actually write the students as distinct people rather than having them melt into an undifferentiated blob of Unified Niceness.  We shouldn’t have had a story with twenty kids who all, ultimately, react the same way to the crises they face!  If modern heroics has a problem with people who are just in it for the fame and money, or people who expected it to be relatively easy work due to the peace All Might established, then we should have seen that reflected in the class, too!

(That’s not to say no one who leaves or fails can ever show up again!  I have specific scenes in mind already for how Aoyama and Momo return to the story as allies, for example, and Shishikura plainly shows in the canon that failing the license exam in the first round doesn’t mean you can’t still find yourself doing Hero work anyway.  But the students’ paths should be ongoing threads that diverge and reconverge throughout the story, not a solid monochrome stripe that runs across the entire story-cloth like someone fell asleep at the sewing machine.)

Secondly, the smaller class size facilitates one of the major changes I have in mind for this timeline, which is that when the class confronts Deku post-first-war, they do it not with the intention of dragging him back to U.A., but of joining him in staying outside.  I have a ton of stuff I want them to see and interact with and be forced to acknowledge and reflect on, and that doesn’t happen if they just go back to school and wait for their next assignment.  Navigating all of that as a group trying to feel their way to a better future against the efforts of both jaded authority figures and Villains who’ve been burned one too many times to trust so easily is just simpler with a smaller, more focused, more strongly characterized group.

So, the Splintered Wills timeline, in summary, goes all-in on OFA being a repository of different people who are allowed to have different opinions and reactions to things, paralleling the dissolving of Team Hero’s united front; Deku & Friends have to struggle and clash, learn when to compromise and when to stand their ground, in order to build their way back up to unity, while Shigaraki is allowed the chance to continue coalition-building and consolidating resources under his own banner mentally in the same way he spent the entire series doing physically.  As Team Hero’s collective grasp on society collapses, Shigaraki’s grows stronger, reversing their positions such that Deku and company have to come back from the actual underdog position they fall into compared to BNHA, where they never 100% fall from the seat of power the way readers are encouraged to believe.

The Forward Different timeline is also called, for now, Creepy OFA.  It goes in the opposite direction by making Deku deal with the same kinds of problems Canon!Shigaraki has to deal with vis a vis being possessed of/by a quirk with a single domineering will of its own.  While Splintered Wills portrays OFA and AFO alike as being full of people, each with their own unique motivations and desires, this story underlines and reunderlines that quirk vestiges are ultimately biological impulses, not people.

OFA is an originally simple force that’s been compounded in complexity and appearance of rationality every time it’s been passed down, but is still ultimately just a quirk, mindless, unreasoning, imprinting its bearer with its own dictates and not caring a bit if the bearer likes or agrees with those dictates.  “OFA must be passed on,” “AFO must be destroyed,” “The bearer must be the Symbol of Peace,” and so on.

Making Deku and Shigaraki have to struggle against this loss of autonomy due to an out-of-control quirk vestige puts them on a similar level of challenge, the better to give them some common ground for understanding.  Whether they have to fight or help each other in the end, they’ll do it as free agents, people who have both had to figure out a way to throw off the weight of the lineages trying to mold them into  a desired shape. The help of their respective friends and allies—and maybe even some of their enemies?—will, of course, be immeasurable with this.

Some ideas I want to incorporate (or have already so started) into one or the other of these timelines include:

I want the PLF to do better no matter what timeline we’re in.  Currently my idea is that in one timeline, they had a well-placed mole somewhere whom Hawks and the HPSC didn’t sniff out, so the PLF knows the raids are coming and have laid traps for the attacking Heroes.  This could still go haywire, of course, ‘cause Heroes are very good at what they do, but it definitely won’t be a total blowout as it was in canon.  Then in the other timeline, the PLF don’t see the attack coming, but are given more license to act like the organized, effective threat they were initially portrayed as—they have sentries and security cameras posted, so while they only get a minute or two’s warning, it’s still better than absolutely nothing, and the outcome is way more chaotic and fraught for both sides, such that the country ends up dotted with PLF holdouts in situations that are part-siege and part-extended hostage negotiation. That gives an opportunity to show at least a partial version of what a PLF takeover might look like in practice, though it remains compromised by the ongoing conflict.    

As part of treating the PLF better, both timelines will have characters revealed to have MLA ties.  As mentioned, MLA!Iida is for sure in one of them; my strongest concept for a second choice is Ochaco having to grapple with the government’s heavy-handedness getting her parents arrested when they barely know anything about what they got themselves into,[5] but really, it could be practically anyone, including parents or mentors.  All I require is that the kids have a reason, any reason, to care about the fates of the tens of thousands of people the government sent them out to mindlessly arrest. 5: This would be a scenario in which I just went with the makes-more-sense-as-canon-anyway idea that being a Hero is the only way to get a quirk-use license so Ochaco is pursuing Heroism because she can’t get permission to use her quirk to help with her parents’ construction business.  She doesn’t wind up MLA herself, but her parents—trying to be supportive but not thrilled that their daughter decided to pursue such a dangerous career for that reason—get handed some dodgy pamphlets, after Uraraka moves out to attend U.A., about a group trying to get the laws changed to be more in-step with the universality of quirks and the principles of bodily autonomy and economic self-determination.    

I think the time between the first war and the last confrontation should be longer, introducing more new characters and developing many characters BNHA showed only in passing.  I have ideas like new heroic types (students or pros) who are brought in from other parts of the country because they have useful quirks for the raids, a heteromorph ex-Hero student who bails on his school when he realizes that the people handling its shelter operations are turning away heteromorphs, someone who catches Nagant’s backstory confession on video and has to decide what to do with the bombshell about black ops extralegal Hero assassins, a support/protest group consisting of people who’ve become jaded about Heroes after things they see on the day of the initial attacks (people like Can’t-Ya-See-kun, the medical staff who tried to defend their beloved Doctor Garaki, people who lost family to the mass arrests and so on), people from branches of the government that aren't specifically associated with law enforcement, etc. Seriously, I want a story that acknowledges that there are people who could possibly be relevant and important to events that we haven’t already met circa the first war because something like The Total Collapse of Society will naturally stir up activity all across the country!  Maybe people who the 1-A kids have never met before could bring valuable input to the table!!  Gosh!!!    

Changes to the traitor plotline.  I mentioned Aoyama being outed circa the training camp for one; I’d like to run with Traitor!Hagakure in the other.  I’m thinking she goes missing during the first war and the students are worried sick about her because no one’s sure what even happened.  Did she run away?  Was she hurt?  Was she killed?  Would anyone even know, if she stayed invisible even as—as a—as a dead body, Bakugou is the only one willing to actually say out loud.  She is, of course, not dead, but the class won’t find that out for a while.    

Changes to how Hawks and Endeavor’s partnership plays out.  I want Endeavor to die during the first war in one story, allowing the rest of the family space to navigate that plot without him even as it pushes Hawks off the deep end, leading to him going rogue such that he gets what was in canon the Lady Nagant fight.[6]  In the other story, Endeavor survives but tries to make better decisions about how to handle Touya, leading his and Hawks’ stellar partnership into rough waters when it comes out that Hawks very much just wants Touya dead. 6: And freeing Lady N to show up elsewhere in some totally different capacity.  There may be ample evidence that her fight was originally intended to be for Hawks, and in that version of the story she probably never existed at all, but I love her potential far too much to erase her completely, even in a timeline that reverts her plot back to Hawks.    

Gran Torino living and having a change of heart about saving Shigaraki in Splintered Wills, but dying and becoming a loss Deku has to weigh against his desire to save Shigaraki in Creepy OFA.  More named and important losses in general, actually, and more time for the characters to react to those losses, be it with grief or with mounting rage.  Students who lose teachers and mentors, Heroes who lose peers and sidekicks, Shishikura losing his father, the League losing Twice, civilians who are allowed to be justly angry about their losses without being drawn like unreasonable screeching harpies for it, and so on.    

The Lady Nagant fight cuing up the way it did in canon only to abruptly end when Deku just straight-up agrees to go with her willingly because finding AFO and Shigaraki is what he wants, so why would he turn his nose up at the opportunity?  This leads to him getting a lot of exposure to Alternate Perspectives via Lady N’s history, Overhaul’s shattered state, and whatever’s going on with the League in this scenario before he eventually escapes or gets rescued with neither him nor AFO/Shigaraki able to make concrete progress on saving Shigaraki/stealing OFA.    

Playing more with All Might’s mental connection to OFA.  In Splintered Wills, Shigaraki gets his vestige, which means he loses the connection to Deku/OFA completely and instead starts having horrible nightmares of rage and death and Decay.  I’m still making up my mind about how things go in Creepy OFA, but I like the idea of All Might having his own mind back after 30+ years of being under OFA’s influence, and having a front row seat for what that influence is starting to do to the teenager he so unthinkingly gave that power to (or, more accurately, gave to that power?).    

Ditching the stupid mech suit in one timeline and letting Toshinori Yagi find ways to be relevant and meaningful without it; alternately, letting him keep the mech suit only to run it square into the rogue AI teeth of the lone free-willed survivor of the U.A. robot uprising, the R2D2-looking PLF advisor in Toga’s chain of command.    

Consequences for Deku’s fucking arms. He developed a kick-based fighting style; he can damn well use it. Also handle his problem with losing his temper by making him fuck up something that can’t get unfucked by having an ally nearby to save him from the consequences of flying off the handle.    

More, and different, interactions between Stain and All Might.  More extended ones, for a start; I want Stain to rescue a heavily injured All Might from the car attack and for them to then spend days together while Toshinori recuperates enough to be moved.    

Better material for Kurogiri and Gigantomachia.  And plenty of other Villains too, really, not just the PLF.  I’d like the Tartarus escapees to be human beings suffering a variety of ills from their extended solitary confinement; I’d like the Shie Hassaikai to make another appearance; I’d like Mustard to be relevant again. Et cetera.    

Let stuff like the quirk erase bullets and quirk singularity have more significant airtime.    

Spinarakiya.  AHEM. My willingness to be self-indulgent about ships I know good and well would never be canon has yet to be determined.

And that's some ideas! I have lots of others, but I don't want to completely turn this ask reply into a dumping ground for the many (many) ideas I have for that dyad of stories. If you read all of these, know that I appreciate you deeply. And thanks for the ask, @friedeggpajamas!

[deusvervewrites]

Blood and bone:

i reread this au so now im just rotating ideas about how biomancy might be able to interact with copy lol,

Could midoriya edit a quirk while monoma has it copied? I.e., he copies horn cannon and then midoriya biomancies the shape of the horns, or maybe mixing whatever quirks he has stored, or something like that. I suppose that this possibility depends on how monomas quirk stores the copies, whether theyre more biological (such as leaving markers on his dna/changing parts of his body when he has a quirk copied even when its not active) or more mental/metaphysical (kinda like the vestiges but not ghosts, idk how to really describe this one). Honestly, thats more up to personal headcanon cause i dont think canon gives enough examples of monoma actually using his quirk for this to be certain.

If it did work that way, i could see it being a way to test out/practice/just kinda mess around with quirks with minimal risks. (well, as long as monoma would agree. We all know hes very conflicted about the whole thing) if something didnt work out he would be able to just drop the edited quirk and then start from scratch.

(although… i kinda lied about minimal risk because there might be a risk of accidentally overwriting whatever mechanism that makes it possible for copy to quickly and cleanly remove a copied quirk. Especially if its being done in less optimal conditions, like if they were rushing it or something.) (although maybe that could be used for drama…)

I think that he could edit a Quirk that Monoma has copied. He also could make it so that the copied Quirks don't disappear, yes, but that would require him to edit Copy itself. Still something he could do on accident though.

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplay Ramblings: Spell Storage part 3

(art by IrenHorrors on DeviantArt)

The Mind

Now, with spellbooks and magic-as writing out of the way, it’s worth taking a moment to talk about the classes that don’t use physical notation for their spell knowledge.

Indeed, while scholarly wizards and alchemists note down their magic or quasi-magical chemistry in some form, other casters do not, either due to quirks with how their magic works or because it comes from an outside source, so let’s talk about that a bit.

So, getting it out of the way first, certain magical traditions, namely primal and divine, have no need to store spells for the most part. Instead they simply petition the divine or natural forces that they revere to grant them power. If the spells can be said to be stored anywhere, it is likely within the connection between the caster and their source of power, floating around them in non-space until the mage calls upon it to be fulfilled.

The exception to this are oracles, whom are directly invested with a reserve of divine power, and the exact nature of their various spells and divine magics are shaped by the nature of what sort of divinities granted them power as well as what sort of miracles they wish to unleash into the world. In this way, they are very much like sorcerers.

Speaking of which, sorcerers are very interesting as well. Whether the power has a biological component or their metaphysical self was imbued with this power, sorcerers don’t have the raw study and intellectual understanding that other casters do. Certainly, they and bloodragers can study magic in order to better understand it and help shape the spells they develop, but for them, the act of casting magic is less invoking memorized power and more flexing a metaphysical muscle that they’ve developed into a proper spell through their understanding of how magic works on a reflexive, instinctual level. Sure, they may still utter incantations and make gestures to invoke the power, but it’s more that they know that they work rather than necessarily understanding their greater meaning, not without training.

And then of course we have the full suite of occult casters, who also have spontaneous magic, but being more directly tied to their emotions and thoughts than even sorcerers and bloodragers. Indeed, whether they’re evoking them from their own or from the resonance of emotionally-charged objects, one could argue that the power of these mages IS their thoughts and emotions themselves, harnessed and refined with practice. Occult magic is after all the discipline of connection and association, after all, so understanding how your emotions and thoughts are connected to the world around them is kinda their deal.

All of those previous spellcasters essentially “record” their magic in their knowledge of what they need to do to get them working, rather than a full intellectual understanding of the “language” or inner workings of magical theory, though those certainly help.

However, there are two classes that blur that line by having their spells stored separately, but not being akin to wizards. I speak of course of shaman and witches, whose spells are both stored in a familiar. In both cases, the spells take the form of whispered secrets from a remote patron that are stored in the familiar to recite them in the case of witches, and in similar secrets but also pacts and agreements of aid in the case of shamans. Either way, the mind and body of the familiar serves as the vessel for this knowledge and power.

Of course, I would be remiss to not mention spell-like and supernatural abilites, which are often innate to various ancestries and species, like the power of sorcery or oracular power, but very specific and without cultivation and refinement, more akin to an adaptation like a limb or sensory organs than studied magic.

As we can see, while magic can be inscribed in books and scrolls, it is also infused into the very being of other spellcasters, making for a form of magic that is evoked in very personal ways instead of following proscribed guidelines, further lending to the idea that magic is not some easily explained and codified thing like a law of physics.

In any case, that’s it for today, but tomorrow we’ll jump several millennia into the future to talk about how folks in Starfinder handle their magic.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

While it’s bound to vary potentially wildly from person to person, what are some cultural faux pas on Gallifrey? I assume there would be things like telling someone they looked better in a previous regeneration, but I honestly don’t know.

What are some cultural faux pas on Gallifrey?

We don't know very much about this, which suggests that Gallifreyan taboo subjects and human taboo subjects are generally the same. We've gathered a few things here, and we're going to throw in some theoretical ones just for fun.

1️⃣ Public Discussions of Regeneration 🚫

Regeneration is a big deal on Gallifrey. And we mean big. So, discussing it publicly—especially at the dinner table—is considered as rude as randomly discussing your sex life in front of your boss. Gallifreyans take their regenerations very seriously, and it's generally a topic for close friends or at private gatherings. So, unless you're very familiar with the person, skip the small talk about body transformations and focus on more universally accepted topics, like, um, the weather, maybe?

2️⃣ Witnessing Someone's Regeneration 🤐

This one is a bit contradictory, given how sometimes Gallifreyan 'emergency' regenerations of high-profile figures are broadcast through their media, but traditionally, witnessing someone's regeneration is considered a very private and quite intimate event. Ergo, all the times the Doctor has been in close proximity to companions while regenerating is an insight into just how close the Doctor may feel to them (or the Doctor just has no manners at all).

3️⃣ Green Ink: A Marker of Bad Manners ✍️

Weirdly, using green ink to write is considered extremely rude in Gallifreyan culture. It's one of those little quirks that probably comes from ancient practices or outdated taboos, but who knows?

4️⃣ Commenting on Someone's TARDIS 🚀

Gallifreyans have a deep metaphysical and borderline intimate connection to their TARDISes. So, commenting on someone else's TARDIS is as rude as commenting on their personal diary, their wardrobe, or their partner (unless, of course, you're a fellow/the same Time Lord and really know them). The TARDIS, after all, is a direct extension of a Time Lord's identity.

5️⃣ Theoretical Faux Pas 🤔

Given that Gallifreyans possess an ancient, complex culture, there are several theoretical faux pas you might encounter. For example:

Disrespecting the Laws of Time: Time Lords hold time in high regard—like, seriously high regard, and they're very proud of their established system. Keep your casual Time Law criticisms to a minimum if you don't want to make someone very annoyed.

Discussions on the Other: The Other is a complex figure in Gallifreyan history, and discussing them loudly is probably a cultural faux pas.

Criticising Rassilon: You know Rassilon, the big figurehead of Gallifreyan society? Criticising him is probably not the best idea. He's the founding father of Time Lord society, so unless you're looking for an argument with a bunch of Gallifrey's elite, keep your opinions on Rassilon to yourself until you're in shared company.

Staring at someone while you're doing touch-telepathy on them: They can hypnotise others and block, alter, erase, or implant memories. This is enhanced by intense eye contact. So if a Gallifreyan is closing their eyes while reading your mind, they're respecting your boundaries and signalling they're (probably) not trying to rearrange your mind.

🏫 So ...

In summary, Gallifreyan culture is not all that different from human cultures when it comes to manners. Stick to the basics: respect privacy, avoid commenting on personal matters like regenerations and TARDISes, and never, ever use green ink.

Related:

💬|👥✨How do Gallifreyans deal with regeneration disparities?: How Gallifreyan society perceives and deals with those unable to regenerate.

💬|👥🧑Do Time Lords besides the Doctor have companions?: Detailing the companions of other Time Lords.

💬|👥♀️♂️How do Gallifreyans view and adapt to gender?: Perception on gender and historical gender.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[fox-bright]

OKAY SO I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THE WHOLE SENDING CREMAINS TO THE MOON THING If you haven't heard about it, a bunch'a dead people (cremated) (just a teaspoon or less of each) are going to the Moon, where they will stay forever. They left this morning, riding up on a United Launch Alliance rocket for Peregine Mission One, technically out of Pittsburgh, PA but launched as usual from Florida. There are five NASA payloads on the mission, so Science is Happening. That’s cool, I’m all for it. But I, and it turns out the Navajo Nation, are not very cool with the Elysium and Celestis parts of the deal, which is sending a hundred something dead people’s remains up there. I’m against it because while I’m all for scattering cremains in nature—returning your carbon to the cycle—and I’m all for cemeteries and tombs, this won’t be either; there’s not any breaking down, there’s not any cycle, and there’s no hallowed ground. The Navajo Nation, in the letter they wrote to NASA in December, is against it because to them the Moon is sacred. You don’t just drop corpses on sacred things, basically. They weren’t asking to stop the mission, just to be consulted about how to handle it with grace; their request was denied. NASA couldn’t have done anything for them, anyway, because this isn’t a NASA mission even if they’re sending payloads up. So the Magical Flying Husband and I good-naturedly Got Into It on the topic, on Saturday, and we still don’t quite agree. To my mind, it’s gross and tacky to throw a Space Rubbermaid full’a cremains up there. There were already the remains of one single person on the moon, as Eugene Shoemaker’s ashes went up with the Lunar Prospector thirty-something years ago. He was a scientist who trained Apollo astronauts about what to expect when they reached the Moon; a geologist with his eyes on the stars. Having him up there doesn’t oog me out. Having a bunch of randos who only get to go there because their families have the money for it, that oogs me out. And then there’s just the pure metaphysical aspect; we put gates around our cemeteries for a reason. We make specific places out to be the resting places of the dead, so that we can say here are the dead and here the dead are not. Most of the religions or belief systems which have the dead remain in the home, on altars or in special (holy!) rooms within the building, also have requirements for attendance on those lost relatives. Incense, prayer, attention. You can’t do that if you lawn-dart Grandma onto the Moon. So throwing a bunch of bodies into a place where they will never degrade, without marking out land as “this specific place is where our dead go,” is either a hugely expensive method of littering, or it makes the whole Moon into a cemetery.

So the MFH and I have this discussion, back and forth, and then we realize we don’t really have any data. How many people are going up? Who are they? What’s the deal? So I looked it up. There are two companies sending cremains on this trip, Celestis and Elysium. Both of them have (frankly, tacky) websites selling you the ability to send Grandma to the Moon.

Celestis starts you at about three thousand US dollars to put some ashes onto a payload that goes up, and then comes down again; the equivalent of tying her to an Estes rocket that you launch from the park, only this is a proper spacegoing rocket that gets up there. She just doesn't get to take the whole ride.

Further Celestis packages allow you to put Grandma into orbit, send Grandma to the Moon, or send Grandma out into Deep Space.

(Reading that aloud is the point where the MFH's ears really quirked. It is very difficult and very expensive to get something properly into Deep Space. That offering is bullshit, and can't not be bullshit, and this is where the MFH decided probably this whole thing was more than a little scammy.)

The Orbit Grandma package is particularly romantic; the orbit she'll be put into is a degrading one, so that after some time spinning around our gorgeous blue marble, she'll reenter the atmosphere and become a visible shooting star.

(The MFH said "Is there going to be a big enough payload to be visible with the naked eye? What amount of matter is required for that?" and then we had to do Math about it. Of course, it's not just Grandma who would be on that bus, it's another hundred people or whatever; the image appears to show a hundred or more thimbles of cremains stored separately in basically a large cube container. So maybe the size of a soccer ball? I think it would be visible. It is, however, impossible to say "look there, and you'll see Grandma!" so while it would be visible to someone, it's not going to be something you can make sure to see.)

Elysium offers all the same packages, with slightly different names. But unlike Celestis, Elysium has a little row at the bottom of the page with photographs of previous launches. They've done this before, they're saying, and Grandma is safe with them.

So I looked up the launches, and found a Wikipedia page on them. And oh my god. That's where my ears quirked, and then I started cackling, and the whole slightly-fractious discussion with the MFH absolutely dissolved into macabre jokes.

Because, yeah, there have been two previous launches. One of them failed to reach orbit. A payload of Grandmas was put onto the next one, to make up for the failure.

The second launch, which was to be a Shooting Star trip for the god knows how many people that the first launch failed? That one made it to orbit! All good, right? Now Grandma can orbit for a while, and then immolate for a second time, this one much more spectacular and high-velocity than the first?

ABSOLUTELY not.

Because of licensing issues.

(image: two columns of text describing Elysium launches: ORS-4 Elysium Star I, launched on a Super Strypi, was destined for reentry failed to reach orbit.

SSO-A Elysium STar II, launched on a Falcon 9, was destined for reentry and made orbit successfully. "Orbit was to decay in 2 years, but satellite was locked into the Lower Free-Flyer dispenser due to license timing issues." )

Grandma is stuck in the dispenser. Grandma's in a gacha-gacha that just spins around and around and around and around, never releasing its prize to her glorious conflagration.

Because of licensing issues.

I'm siding with the Navajo Nation with this one, either way, but I have to wonder if those folks are actually getting to the Moon as planned.

[wendichester]

𓂃˖ ࣪ 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤

˚₊‧꒰ა @craycraycraic ☆ dean winchester ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ���˙⟡ where pisces, cancer, gemini meets aquarius, leo*, saggitarius. ⟡˙⋆

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐

ꔛ. meeting each other,

✧ what’s the most likely way for you two to meet?

a bar. but not just any bar — somewhere weird. maybe an old jazz club in the middle of nowhere where the drinks are too cheap and the jukebox only plays sad songs. you’re not hunting, but you’re investigating — you’ve been following whispers, chasing psychic echoes. dean’s there on a job. you bump into each other when you're both asking the same bartender the same question about the same death.

✧ are you a hunter or a civilian?

you’re not a hunter in the traditional sense. you're a sensitive, a spiritual seeker with that dreamy pisces sun, merc, and jupiter. your instincts are uncanny. you read energy like a language. you’re the type of person who walks into a room and knows who’s lying. you’re following your own path — not trained, but powerful. dean clocks that immediately. you’re useful. and kind of weird. he likes both.

✧ what’s his first impression of you?

he doesn’t know what to make of you. venus in aquarius, moon in gemini — you’re smart, detached, a little chaotic. you flirt with your words, not your body, and that throws him off. you’re funny, a little too calm, and seem way too okay with the concept of death. you don’t try to impress him. you make him laugh, and then you say something that hits too deep. he’s intrigued. then suspicious. then drawn in.

ꔛ. friendship compatibility,

✧ how would the friendship be like?

teasing. stimulating. protective. your friendship would be built on banter and late-night talks, weird road food, and deep metaphysical debates. dean trusts you in a way that surprises him. you’re not trying to fix him — you're just... there. and that’s everything. you’d get under his skin in the best way. challenge him without threatening him. it’s an equal kind of friendship, which he doesn’t get often.

✧ how would it begin?

after a few cases. after you prove you can handle yourself — and more importantly, that you won’t abandon him when things get messy. you share music. you share space. you share quiet. he starts noticing that you always wait for him to finish his sentences — something small, but meaningful. you don’t push. you listen. and suddenly, you’re just part of his orbit.

✧ quirks and fun things about it:

✶ you’re the one who sends him memes at 2am. ✶ he’s the one who changes the radio station when you fall asleep because he knows which songs make you relax. ✶ you prank each other constantly. ✶ you call him “space cowboy” and he calls you “weird fish.” ✶ you buy matching sunglasses at a gas station and wear them like they’re sacred artifacts.

ꔛ. romantic compatibility,

✧ are you compatible? is there a chance for friendship to develop into more?

absolutely. but not without sparks. your venus in aquarius sextiles his sun + mars, which makes for instant attraction — intellectual, witty, playful. but you also have moon-moon opposition (gemini-sag), which means emotional tension. he wants blunt truth. you prefer implication. he can be reckless. you’re evasive. but the pull? cosmic. it could absolutely grow into more — especially after shared danger. it’s one of those loves that creeps in sideways. by the time either of you notice it, it’s already real.

✧ what type of relationship would it be?

adventurous. offbeat. emotionally challenging but rewarding. it would be road trips with no destination. existential conversations over diner coffee. fighting over who gets the last fry. walking through fire for each other. he grounds you when you get too foggy. you soften him when he gets too sharp. it's weird. it's wild. it's yours.

✧ what are your love languages according to the charts?

✶ you: quality time, mind stimulation, acts of service. ✶ him: acts of service, words of affirmation, loyalty through presence. you express love through ideas and presence. he expresses it through action and care. you'd both feel it — but might need to learn how to speak it in ways the other understands.

ꔛ. scenario, ₊˚⊹౨ partners ৎ ₊˚⊹

you’re driving through nevada in a borrowed truck with a broken air conditioner. you’ve just survived something neither of you want to talk about. silence hums in the space between you. he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other drumming his thigh. “you okay?” he asks, finally. you nod. “i saw the thing’s eyes. just... kept thinking it could’ve been you.” he doesn’t answer. pulls over. steps out. you follow. “look,” he says, voice low, “i’m not great at this. but i don’t wanna do this without you anymore. the cases. the road. life.” you blink. “is that your way of saying you want us to be—” “yeah,” he says, cutting you off, mouth twitching. “us. whatever that looks like.” you laugh. and cry. and he holds your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

ꔛ. overall, score : 8.5 / 10

this is a chaotic, deep, strange, beautiful pairing. there’s friction — especially emotional misunderstanding — but also undeniable mental chemistry. your friendship is fire. your romance is weird and wonderful. and your partnership? it would be built on respect, loyalty, and shared mystery. dean needs someone who won’t ask him to change — just to show up. you need someone who lets you be strange and sacred all at once. and that’s what you are to each other: freedom. curiosity. devotion.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

* since the birth time of dean hasn't ever been mentioned, I've placed him as a leo rising, since it's the sign that makes more sense to me.