Echo-oaks - Writing Everything

Some more Hifumis bc I wanna draw Hifumi

Hes so gender to me

Castle Swimmer is being published into physical books! ✨coming in 2025!

so much trouble over something so small an eternity in that mirror is not that long now, is it?

Chapters: 2/26 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga), Crooked Villains - Fandom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Original Character, Yagi Toshinori | All Might & Original Character, Sensei | All For One & Original Character(s), Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Original Character(s), Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Original Characters, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Sensei | All For One, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kurogiri (My Hero Academia), Yoarashi Inasa, Minor Characters, Kohiro Hazane, Class 1-A (My Hero Academia) Additional Tags: Crooked Villains, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Polyamory, LGBTQ Themes, Canon Characters are Queer, Internalized Queerphobia, Discussion of Gender as Relationship Development, Heavy manga spoilers, Kohiro Hazane is a Little Shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Takes Place Just Before the Hero Killer Arc, Recreational Drug Use, Blood and Gore, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Anxiety, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Gender Dysphoria, Non-Explicit Sex, Heavy in Headcanons, Aromantic Midoriya Izuku Series: Part 1 of Crooked Villains Summary:

"Your task is simple. Really. Just hard enough that I know you can do it versus someone off the street. Only I am better than you, dearie," Master's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He inhaled and continued, "Keep an eye on these kids. Any information about quirks and their weaknesses. And… you might've seen the document on All Might."

"Yeah. There were rumors he was going to be a teacher at U.A. this upcoming year."

"One for All…" He grimaced. His fingers tightened against her jaw. "If you get the chance, kill All Might."

***

Kohiro Hazane learned the hard way that she was neck-deep in shit and couldn't swim.

There was no turning back for her. Whether she liked it or not, that decision had been made for her when Japan's most wanted villain took her under his wing and raised her to be his perfect successor. She was a villain, and villains didn't get second chances.

Until Kohiro is tasked to infiltrate U.A. Hero Academy.

And Kohiro learns the hard way that second chances are few, but a little bit of love can be just the second chance she needs.

Oops.

Reposting some old art - #1

Back in 2021 August 21st I finished this drawing, I'm still proud of it!! Even tho I notice some errors now, I value the time I spent on this one.

The concept was a Crazy Diamonds night on Mondo's birthday, even if I couldn't finish it on June 9th lol, the entire gang is on an avenue.

I got the design for Mondo's motorcycle from this official cover:

Since he rides Kawasaki, I picked a reference from one of the classic Kawasaki styles, specifically a Z900 RS, the most similar model I could find.

For Daiya, I picked a purple Kawasaki ninja.

Anyways I love Mondo on a huge amount, he's truly my favorite character EVER still nowadays.

Have this small doodle, also from 2021:

Funny to see how my artstyle improved LOL

"Hancock has no regrets about becoming a ghoul"??

It baffles me when some people think Hancock has zero regrets about becoming a ghoul. Absolutely none at all apparently. Like yeah, he plays it up when you first meet him before he's a companion, but let's be real he plays up pretty much everything in regards to the whole "sexy king of the zombies" image he projects.

It takes travelling with you away from Goodneighbor to give him some time to be introspective for him to finally realize that him becoming a ghoul was just another escape route from himself again. He's got several lines of dialogue that literally reiterate this. It's a key point of his character:

Hell, running from myself is what made me into… into a damn Ghoul.

Well, I mean, I didn't always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a Ghoul, I knew what it was going to do.

I just couldn't stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore.

The coward who'd let all those Ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys.

If I took it, I'd never have to look at him again. I could put that all behind me. I'd be free. Didn't seem like a choice at all. Turns out it was just me running from somethin' else in my life.

I mean, after reaching max affinity with you, he realizes that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all (because he's finally got an honest friend he can be open with now). He now feels comfortable where he is - but to imply that he doesn't have at least the tiniest amount of regret? Heck, if you go onto romance him (or attempt to), he stops referring to himself as handsome and literally starts calling himself ugly, which naturally goes entirely against the image he projects:

Why don't we just agree to keep it friendly for now or till they find a cure for ugly? Heh.

You don't want to wake up to this mug every morning. Never wish that on anyone I cared for.

You sure you want to be stuck with this ugly mug?

(You could even say he implies it beforehand with another line of dialogue elsewhere in-game when he says "I'd be mad too if I was that ugly." But that's a stretch I guess.)

Combine that with the fact that 99% of ghouls don’t choose to become ghouls. Hancock did. But he didn't do it for a fun experience. He was already in a bad place when he became a ghoul. He didn't turn to be cool and edgy like he pretended he did when first getting to know him.

He lost his appearance, any connections to his old identity and old friends/people he might’ve been associated with (for better or worse), and in return gained hostility from bigots towards him for merely existing, from an overwhelming majority of the Commonwealth population that hates ghouls. There's the Institute and Brotherhood who want to kill anyone like him on top of that. Plenty of people out there who think he and other ghouls are monsters for just being alive.

Not only that, but something which adds onto this is the fact that he's a client of the Memory Den, and they're very selective with their customers. And what's the whole point of the Memory Den? Reliving past memories. Irma's terminal entry about Hancock, as well as the other two ghoul clients Kent and Daisy, all imply the memories they go back to relive are primarily from their human days. (The one on Hancock straight up says "if you thought he was handsome and dangerous now, you should've seen him before he turned ghoul.")

I genuinely refuse to believe that Hancock has never had any regret whatsoever about becoming a ghoul. The man who's spent a decent chunk of his life running from his own problems instead of confronting them, has NO regrets about taking a drug that alters his entire being and functionality on a biological level and will force him to outlive everyone he knows? This man is FULL of regrets!

She's not too happy about being a ghost...

Day 18 -- Deacon

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 18 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don't interact.

Voyeurism with Deacon x g/n! Sole

Whoops, big surprise, this got angsty. Sorry Deeks! I just can't help it with this man, I don't know why 😅 but hopefully y'all still enjoy it regardless!

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Voyeurism, (non-consensual voyeurism), masturbation, angst, wishful thinking, pining.

1.6k words.

--

Yeah. This is cute. 

Deacon’s mind said to him dryly. 

This is a healthy response to this situation. This isn’t weird. Sole will understand. They’ll get it. 

The spy shook his head, eyes closed tight as his brain spewed unwanted words of restraint, of undesired and unneeded common sense. 

What the hell is sensible about any part of this situation? We’re in an abandoned ice cream shop that Sole used to visit on weekends before giant bombs blew everything to hell, and they took a nap for 200 years. We’re surrounded by packs of super mutants on one side, and raiders on the other, and I’m biting into the back of my hand to keep quiet as they moan through the fabric of their shirt on the other side of this thin, crumbling concrete wall. Nothing about this situation is even remotely expectable. 

He could hardly fucking stand it. 

You’re both doing the same damn thing, if you’d just talk to them about it, maybe, the two of you could finally–

Deacon hissed through his teeth, his uncomfortably dry hand stroking too harshly over his erection as the frustration built up in both his mind and body. 

This isn’t the same. Another side of his mind refuted. I’m over here, pining the skin off my cock for them, while they’re undoubtedly thinking about their late spouse-- Or… anyone else, even. --at the feel of their own hand.

He didn’t know.  

I should be thinking of Barbara. Or of someone– anyone, but them. Right along with them.

They’re the only fucking friend I’ve got. I’ve had, in… what? A decade? Maybe more? I can’t count right now. 

Deacon’s head fell back against the wall, a grimace coating his expression, even as his blue eyes hazed over with climbing bliss. 

I can’t lose them over… what? Wanting to engage in a little hanky panky with them? Wanting what? A close connection? Intimacy? Vulnerability? When– in what universe would that ever happen? 

We both know I could never have anything like that again. 

A deep breath escaped him, throaty and louder than he would’ve liked as his thumb grazed over his slit, collecting some of his slick pre-cum and stroking it over his length as the only way to ease the friction of his rough hand. 

A noise sounded through the thin wall behind him, and Deacon ceased his movements., holding his breath. 

Shit. Did they just hear me?

Just as he was contemplating trying to zip his jeans up over her cock, to hide the evidence; just as some half-assed story was forming on his lips about why he was sitting back here against the wall, rather than out where he should be, out on watch, another sound interrupted his train of thought. 

He felt his cock throb at the sound, as he heard Sole’s moan fill the air around him. A gasp followed shortly after, and then a bit of silence, but Deacon could still feel them there, somehow, he could feel Sole’s lingering presence just on the other side, and he knew they were just worried. Worried that someone would hear what they were doing. Worried like he was. 

What am I doing? Deacon asked himself for the upteenth time that night, and so many nights before now. 

This is wrong. It’s gross, and it’s wrong, and it’s not fair, for you to hear them like this without earning it, without them knowing. It’s wrong to be out here doing this in response to it. 

Deacon’s hand stilled on his cock, refusing to stroke himself, but gripping tight enough to hurt as his mind flooded with thoughts like these. He wasn’t unused to self-loathing, nah, he and that go waaaaay back, but this? This seemed low. Even for the likes of him.

Sole wasn’t some stranger in a pub, not some escort or one-night-stander, not someone he didn’t know on the other side of a hotel room, who just happens to be engaging in the same fun little activity as him. No, Sole was the reason for this… activity. They were in his thoughts, always, even when they weren’t in front of him, or by his side, on the days he went out on his own, they were still there. 

And he fucking hated it. 

That they were reduced to this. 

They’re his best friend, his partner, the reason his smiles aren’t so forced, the reason he feels he might still, after all this time, all these years, have the capacity to love someone when he thought that had all died long ago. 

His body jolted as another breathy sound left his partner from the other side of the wall, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Goddamn, if I could see what they look like when they make that sound. 

With that very image coming unbidden to his mind, Deacon’s hand unwittingly was back to stroking over his cock. He worked himself slowly, savoring the feeling, allowing his mind to wander to the possibility of him being the one to make them sound like that, to make them look as he imagined they would. Their gorgeous eyes rolled back in their head, their lips spread as they moaned his name, their skin glistening, their hair wild. Their skin would be flushed, eyes hazy as they blinked them open to steal a glance at him as he ravished their body, as he used his silver tongue to work towards a goal more worthwhile than any other. As he did as they deserved, as he worshiped them like he were one of the deacons of the old world and they were his God, shepherding their release like all the poor sinners those men would bring to the light. 

Sole’s gasps were leaving them more rapidly now, building to a crescendo that Deacon would give all that he had left to be a part of. Hell, he’d throw his choice shades off the top of trinity tower to be the one to bring about their thunderous release. 

But he was doomed to be a bystander. Invisible, as he always was, as he heard them groan out from the other side of the wall. A thud sounded against the concrete as he imagined their head falling back at the overwhelming feeling of their release. 

It was the sound that got him.

Deacon hadn’t thought he was close, he’d been so caught up in his own fantasy, all of his tormenting thoughts, he couldn’t feel his body’s signs, and now, he was caught completely off-guard. The spy bit hard into his wrist as a low grunt escaped him against his will, his light eyes prickling with tears of pleasure as he finally felt that pressure release within him.

His seed sprayed down onto the dirt, leaving him in enthusiastic spurts that had his hips writhing and his head knocking against that same wall Sole was surely collapsed against. 

The next battle came in the form of his breath, as Deacon pulled his hand away, he realized how fucking loud he was still being, even as the last white rope of his cum was emptied onto the floor. He released himself, forcing his mind to rally, to focus on easing his breath, as his cock softened where it laid over the lip of his boxers. 

“Fuck me.” He whispered, eyes closed tight as the guilt all came swirling back into his mind with a vengence. 

Again? I just did this again? One of these days, you know–

“Deacon?” 

His eyes shot open as Sole’s voice carried from the other side of the wall. 

“I-is that you?” They asked, uncertain, their voice almost shaking. 

Every thought entered his mind at a million miles a minute, swirling together in a confused traffic jam of ‘what do I say’s?’ and ‘what the hell do I do’s?’. 

“Ahh,” The sound escaped his throat, as a way of aiding his thoughts, but he hadn’t meant for it to be verbal goddamn it. 

“Ahem, uh, yeah. Deeks here.” He bit his tongue, tasting metal from the pressure. 

Sole’s silence scared him more than their call of his name had. 

“How, uh, how’s it hanging?” 

Oh my god. One part of his mind panicked, while the other tried to grasp onto some form of sanity, of common sense. But that part of his mind, he didn’t know what it was, but it always seemed it’s hands were wet, or that common sense was made of ice and sanity was liquid water, always managing to slip frustratingly from his hold.

There’s no god out there that can save you, you buffoon. Nothing can. That was it. You finally did it. Finally managed to get caught. 

He almost told his thoughts to ‘shut up’ out loud, but thought better of it at the last moment. That likely wouldn’t go over well with Sole. Especially after they hadn’t said a damn thing. 

“You heard me, huh.” 

The blood drained from his face. It wasn’t a question from their end, but worse than their certainty was the shame that he heard drip from every word. 

“That… uh, that I did. Yeah.” 

If he was gonna be the creepy asshole sitting out here while they did their personal business, he at least could own up to it. Deacon may be a liar, but Sole, Sole wasn’t dumb. They’d know he was lying, and that would make it even worse. 

“But, um…” He closed his eyes, taking a breath. “But you heard me too, so, you know. Guess we’re, uh, even. Right?” 

“Yeah…” They said quietly, almost too quietly to hear with the wall in the way. Deacon didn’t have time to try to make what repairs he could before they were speaking again, this time louder than before. 

“I won’t tell you about it, if you won’t tell me.” A light humor touched their voice. 

Deacon let out a dry laugh, his chest aching for a reason he refused to acknowledge. 

“Won’t tell you about what?” He said back, hoping they couldn’t hear the strain in his voice, the strain to sound humorous and light in return. 

He heard their laugh from the other side, a lovely sound that tugged at the sides of his mouth, despite the lingering throb in his chest. 

“Yeah, exactly. Good talk, partner.” 

“Yeah.” He whispered, his brows creased beneath his shades. “Partner.”