#retrospective by dot

[circledotdestroy]

I was thinking about how Dr. Garaki was targeting Aizawa to turn into a Nomu when he was younger and it made me think of how Aizawa would haunt you if you two were friends during HS. (This is lowkey an AU idea for my fic Retrospective but I didn’t get nearly enough done to DESERVE writing it)

When Aizawa died, a part of you did too. The innocence and plausible deniability of the heavily propagandized hero society was stripped, leaving little behind. Before “hero” and “villain” were just characters. Big, bad villain has their fun causing trouble, then you, the hero stops them. Growing up you never held no genuine animosity toward “villains”, they were just doing what their part entailed at the end of the day.

That's what you remembered as you stood in the wake of destruction. Rubble became the monument of your friend’s last day on Earth. In mere seconds, you were smacked with a lifetime of regrets. The nerve you had-- equating cold reality with story books. It was stupid. You were so stupid... and arrogant.

You didn't take your job seriously as you should have, and now Eraserhead's career ended before it began. Aizawa Shouta will never live to see greatness like his name once promised.

From then on, it took time. A lot of time before Oboro managed to pull what remained of the group together. You all were functional hero-hopefuls again. Even if standing on the rooftop makes you lose your appetite; and looking at the tree you and Shouta trained by makes the world blur and echo oddly.

One time you looked at the tree and hadn't gained awareness until all of you became seasoned pros. Some time after that, Nemuri decided to teach the next generation of heroes. It didn’t take much convincing for Oboro and Hizashi to join in. You on the other hand, got tricked and was dragged by the others, kicking and screaming. Those three were insane, you thought. What business did you have teaching children?

It was cruel.

All of it.

[kirstysdreams]

Annabelle Fleur retrospective 2013-12-16

[mumblesplash]

only tangentially related to that last post but anyway shoutout to when i avoided mentioning that i was in a relationship on here for over a year because some insane part of my brain was convinced everyone following me only liked me because they thought i was hot. which made literally no sense for many reasons including but not limited to the fact that i have never posted a single photo of myself

[earthykinous]

Back then when I was like 8 or 9 I thought Dot was a male and I realized my mistake... like 4 years after... 💀

[anonymouspuzzler]

this is actually the first im hearing about deponia being Not Great so thank you for the anti-recommendation! i’d always meant to get around to that series one day, since as a kid i was really into daedalic’s other point and click series edna and harvey (which, from what i remember, also probably has not aged super well? its been a long time), and always felt a little bad that i never did. good to know im not missing much

finally i can use my platform for something meaningful

[elrondhalfelven]

Is Peter quill a womanizer in the comics? Or just alluded to in the movies/show?

he isn’t, that was an aspect created for the movie. i very much dislike it!

he can be a bit of a sardonic flirt when trying to be funny, but that’s about it. and he’s generally very sardonic and wry as it is so it doesn’t really MEAN anything.

unless you think he was actually putting moves on thanos, in which case…. Go nuts I guess 💀

[hauntingblue]

FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE! FRUIT LORE!

[mrvelocipede]

Spot Colors, 2011

[circledotdestroy]

Retrospective - Chapter 1: My Old Friend, My New Problem

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now?

Masterlist

Next Chapter

Word count: 2380

You shouldn’t be on the ground of your hotel room. Not with all the glass and furniture the two of you broke. Not holding a knife in your abdomen so it doesn’t move. Your old friend shouldn’t be grabbing her bag and limping toward the door like she tripped and you two didn’t destroy the room in a fight.

Akari was panting with her bloodied hand on her ribs. “It was nice seeing you again,” Akari Kaneko said in English. When she was done she turned from the cracked glass, there was blood dripping from her soft smile as she saw you amongst the splintered furniture and broken glass. Akari winced as her hand left her gray tank top to smear the blood away from her chin to match eye makeup on her face. “I have to go now. Find me when the time comes for the next mission, ok?”

When you were young, your mom carried you to bed the night after your first martial arts tournament. When she laid you down, you were waking up. The yellow light of the hallway shone behind her when she persuaded you to close your eyes again.

This wasn’t the appropriate time to be reminded of that. Not when your nerves felt so cold, numb like when you hold snow without gloves on. You should never feel this hollow.

Akari’s face was more serious and her voice was stern. “-we need to work together.” she said in Japanese. Akari Kaneko, with blood in her peach-colored hair, waited for an answer by the door, but threw her duffel bag over her shoulder.

You stared at the blurred image of her focusing more on staying awake, but your head… It was throbbing…

“I’ll see you soon, Pro-Hero Strife” She shouted in English for any other guests to hear before shutting the door behind her, leaving you in the half-lit room for two– gloved-hand holding a knife carefully between two strips of metal, lodged in your abdomen. The back of your head burned.

The warmth buzzed down your spine, hopefully that meant a staff member saw Akari. They’d be more likely to get closer to the disaster zone than the average person. Though if anyone saw the state you were in, it’d make this aftermath more bearable. Taking a deep breath, you dispersed the energy flowing through you. A shaking arm and legs pushed you off the ground without the courtesy of giving you balance. Your left hand tried to keep the knife steady between the bloodied, black plates, as you shifted your weight, despite your tremors. The sting alone almost made you topple over

Few villains have given you punctures, but none of them were like this. You reached out to the edge of the bed frame for aid and it collapsed under the force. A grunt escaped upon the impact between your right side and the piece of wood. While slapping the broken pieces crossed your mind, you knew you didn’t have time for that. Instead you pushed against it and stumbled across the room for the beige telephone in the corner. When you got to the nightstand at the far-end of the room you collapsed into the doorframe with your back.

Dialing for your agency’s medic, you scrutinized the damage the two of you had done. The torn curtain, broken window, a chair and a table that broke into splinters, the glass from the tv screen decorated the floor, your suitcase had busted the lamp on your nightstand. To think, both of you could’ve done a lot worse if you used your quirks on each other.

You sighed as the ringing started and allowed yourself to sink to the floor, still cradling the knife inside you. Did Akari really come all this way so she can leave you like this?

A couple of days later, you wandered the halls of your old school, unsure if the years made you forget how to transverse the hallways or if the floor plan really changed. Good thing you thought to arrive as soon as you could. Even if there was no set time for you to arrive, the security measures implemented into the school, specifically a man with a dog-based quirk and rough voice that was difficult to translate, proved to be a lengthy process to go through itself. When he was done looking at your hero license, passport, and the bundle of documents for your visit, he allowed you to enter the school. Now you were trying to decipher the list of directions given by Hizashi. They were vague, and very blurry on the paper. Even if the hallway was empty, you felt stupid walking around, squinting at text and straining your eyes so early in the morning.

The current principal was nice enough to let you present your case to the current staff to decide if you should have access to their records and library. To your understanding, the school, the first year hero course in particular, had been through a lot in these few short months. If UA were to offer you resources, chances are they could be putting themselves more at risk.

Even if Present Mic asked the principal to conduct this meeting, and he and Midnight– who doesn’t know you’re here– vouched for you, you couldn’t afford to look sloppy. It doesn’t help that you have to wear an outdated version of your uniform either.

While the support team in your agency was able to give it an emergency mending for your trip, the damage the armor endured, especially from your last fight in it, is still noticeable. Even after repairs no one can miss the damage if they tried. One crack on your red breast-plating flowed through your left shoulder, across your chest, and ended where the bottom of your ribcage is. This disfigured the black outline of your broken-heart emblem, and that was only the largest scar of your armor. Honestly, it was a miracle this armor survived its last run. If it was made of lighter material then it wouldn't have stood a chance… but then again, red was your lucky color.

When you walked through yet another identical hallway instead of finding the Principal’s office, you sighed out your frustration then looked back down. The characters on the page started to split and overlap with one another, and that dull ache in the back of your head was coming back.

Fantastic.

You stared at the paper and kept walking. At least you knew the office should be somewhere on this floor. It shouldn’t take that much longer, so you can afford to fight the headache a little longer. While strolling down the hall, red paint on a door, “1-A”, caught your attention. ‘What are the new students like now,’ you wondered. Were any of them like you when you were in that class? You let out a small laugh and shook your head. Noting the turn ahead, you looked back down on the paper.

“Sure hope not…”

When you tried to get your eyes to refocus on the paper, you heard something down the hall. You deactivated your quirk when you identified the sound as footsteps, the smallest spark inside you confirmed there was someone else on this floor. It’s still too early for a student to be at school, especially when it’s still technically summer break, so it had to be faculty. They can give you directions to find the office quicker.

You picked up the pace, not wanting to lose your chance to get out of this maze. Turning the corner a figure was way too close. Jerking back before you collided, you went to apologize. Your eyes rose from the purple floor up to an all black outfit as you were trying to find your words. Then the gray scarf, wrapped around his neck too many times to be standard, because it was never meant to be found on store shelves.

It was a custom-made weapon.

In half a second you sized the man’s frame. Knife on utility belt’s right side. Pale skin. Torn sleeves. Black boots. Baggier clothes, but the same concept since first year.

Straightening out your back, you locked eyes with the man under the sun’s spotlight. This man with dark hair and eyes that once occupied so much space within your mind. Those shrinking flames of memories, the tree-lined neighborhoods, the cold 24/7 stores, and early morning training sessions, were suddenly revived with barrels of kerosene. Now you were left to bear with the rising heat.

After all, those memories were so long ago, and people change, you know you have. The choice your brain and body struggled with, whether to come closer or follow the etiquette rules, left you still. Your last name rang through the air, barely loud enough to echo through the empty hall.

He recognized you too.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Your head tilted as you observed his face. He had a scar under his eye. The peachy rift of his skin indicated a deep gash within the past few months. No other scars could be found– which is admittedly impressive in this field. Not only that, but his hair was longer, including the stubble on his face, and the whites of his eyes were more irritated. If he’d pass you by without the weapon, you’d be blissfully ignorant of the man before you. After everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t expect to see him back here of all places.

“What are you doing here,” he asked.

A bloody and backlit Akari standing in front of you, telling you she would see you soon emerged in your mind. Telling Shouta about all the details of your old classmate out in the open, where anyone could overhear, didn’t seem appropriate. “I’m here for work.”

He nodded with no change in his expression. He was never known for being particularly emotive in the bunch, even then he wasn’t so still.

“Right,” he responded to your obvious answer. In a way, you were relieved that he accepted the answer. Perhaps he was just as off-guard as you were at the moment, you thought.

“The emergency meeting is because of you then.” He said it as a fact as he stepped toward you. If you looked away from him before he said that, you would’ve broken your neck from the whiplash.

You took slow shallow breaths as the words passed your mind again; the current running through you became warmer. “Again, the job brought me here,” you responded.

Did he not get the hint?

Silence fell between the two of you, Shouta didn’t make any attempt to say that he had somewhere to be to excuse himself. The quiet was starting to lie on you heavily as he continued staring you down. “So how long have you been working at UA,” you asked without thinking. The pressure in your lungs was unbearable with how thick the air was. “I remember you being good with children, but I didn’t think you would consider teaching here.”

“You don’t know? I’ve been a teacher for years now. ”

In two sentences all the gears in your brain stopped.

Your world was silent.

It’s not like he told you.

The thought made you break eye contact as your last days in this country caught up to you like a dark cloud. In a second, that small current started running from your brain, down your spine, confirming what you briefly thought.

Then thunder rumbled through the sky.

‘How was I supposed to know,’ you thought, clenching your jaw.

“I’ve been busy…” you retorted back. This was stupid. It’s not like he ever bothered to call you after you left.

“And then you decided to come to UA of all places,” it was hard to pick up on the exact tone of voice. Lack of practice will do that; but the way he squinted his eyes told you he was skeptical. ”I know you’re holding back. What aren’t you telling me?”

The idea that this stranger would know anything about you made your jaw clench. More electricity coursed through your nerves, veins, any and all fibers of your body at his voice. It was filled with blame as he all, but asked, ‘what did YOU do?’

After all this time, what makes him think he had the right—

No.

Breathing out the tension, you glanced at the ceiling becoming all too aware of the dull ache from earlier. It creeped back into your head, vengeful for being forgotten

You stepped back from the man. You didn’t come to Japan for a petty spat, you were too old for this.

“That will be discussed at the meeting,” you grumbled. The ache in the back of your head was getting worse the longer you were standing in front of him. You gave him a slight bow then walked around him to find the principal yourself.

You took a few steps away. Before hearing his voice again.

“We’ll talk at the meeting,” you said back.

Whatever is between him and you has nothing to do with this mission.

The sunlit hallways became narrower as you stormed through the building like dark clouds rolling in. Trying to find the principal became your sole mission at that moment, although you knew that if you were to meet him in your current state, you wouldn’t be making the best first impression.

Although if you were being honest with yourself, you already messed up with whatever the hell that was. You needed to pull yourself together before you screwed up anything else for the mission.

No matter what you had to convince the faculty at that meeting to let you use UA resources. While you were used to working with the bare minimum, that’s not ideal here. This mission had to be done quietly and as quick as possible. There was only so much time you have to figure out what’s going on with Akari.

Your fists unraveled and you shook the electric feeling off from your hands as you breathed deeply.

Don’t get into any more petty spats then everything will work out and you’ll be back to work in no time. Stay cool, calm, and collected, and you won’t complicate your mission.

[baltears]

my dumb ass not realizing until literally just now that the thing dolores put in williams gun was the squished bullet that was left on teddy’s cortical shield

[myrtaceaae]

It's literally so embarrassing that I need 4 people on my care team. I always think that my logical reasoning is good, but after every appointment I'm like... "Yeah that was a basic idea. I really should have figured that out myself" and consistently I don't!

[mallwalker]

do u guys remember the period of like . maybe 4 months in late 2018 early 2019 where g dropped haunted house and germs and dasher and hazy shade and happy together and umbrella academy was about to come out and it was so exciting . and then umbrella academy fucking sucked

[cringefailnarwhal]

hwat if I pull a silly one and the next time she asks how I'm doing I will tell her 8 years worth of sui thoughts. because I know how to read the room and am excellent at choosing timing. naturally

[mortalityplays]

there's something I find really instructive about the whole thing with the columnist who was scammed into handing over her savings in a shoebox, that I haven't seen many people talk about.

plenty of people have justifiably laughed at her credulity for just accepting that she was dealing with the cia and doing whatever they said, and she mentions herself in the article the sense of crushing mortification that she was so ready to bow to any perceived authority. other people have discussed the value of the piece being its "it could happen to anyone" message, coming from a financial analyst who has written about avoiding scams, which is fine and does have value.

but what I find fascinating is the way it illustrates the secret power of a good scam artist or charismatic leader: they don't have to look or sound convincing to 99% of observers. they just have to be talented at picking up on the specific cues that work on one person. this is why they move so quickly to isolate their targets from everyone around them, and maintain intense pressure with ticking clocks and regular check-ins. the scam is not designed to hold up under even 5 minutes of close scrutiny, it's designed to bypass scrutiny by hitting emotional buttons on a specific individual. the stupider you feel after you cool off, the better they've done their job.

anyone interested in charismatic manipulation, whether scams, cults, or abusive relationships, has heard people say "I'd never fall for something like that". and every victim, in retrospect, says "I never thought I'd fall for something like that". there is no special pattern of stupidity, intelligence, vulnerability or confidence. the pattern is that the perpetrator recognises a thought or behaviour characteristic they can take advantage of. they're the ones selecting you. and that's why teaching people the underlying social mechanics of charismatic abuse is more effective than telling them about lists of individual scams to watch out for. the thing that works on you won't look like anything you've scoffed at, by nature. survival bias plane dot jpeg.

[themindelectricdemo4]

BUILDING MY LIST OF INTERESTING MUSHROOM NAMES

[fuck-philip-banks]

i will never forgive this website for telling me it would get easier after high school. that was the propaganda i was not immune to