#003. ❛ put on your doll faces. ❜ — ( anonymous. )

[blastzoned]

anonymous  /  who would you kiss?

Kirishima or Kaminari?

          ❝  what is it with you guys and the fucking idiot squad?  ❞

          because like hell he’ll ever acknowledge the name ‘Bakusquad.’

          ❝  Shitty Hair, I guess, because Duncehead would never shut up.  ❞

[iceablaze-blog]

anonymous  /  headcanons.

     hc + scars.

trigger warnings: scars, mutilation, self-harm.

as I’ve mentioned before on this blog, Shouto’s scars stray from canon both somewhat in origin and in design.

Shouto’s prominent left facial scar is still present, but it covers about a third of his face and stretches down his neck. this is the scar that was caused by his mother; her ice placed over the boiling water spots where she’d burned him caused the beautiful red pigment we’ve seen thus far.

the way it scarred actually became the method for the rest of his scars, which are a mix of intentional and unintentional self-mutilation.

Shouto’s body easily withstands extreme heat and cold, and that’s why he doesn’t burn like a normal person would. however, by supercooling heated skin that’s already damaged, he can scar his own skin in the same way his mother did. thus, whether unintentionally caused by training or intentionally as a way of coping with his depression, Shouto’s scars all match the vibrancy of the one Rei gave him.

he has a small patch of scarring on his right jawbone, an accident when he was still young. he is scarred completely across his left shoulder and reaching down his bicep, as well as reaching over the top of his left breast, a very large but ultimately accidental scarring. both hips are scarred, with a thinner scar down his left hip and leg and a wider but shorter scar across his right hip; both were intentional scars.

ultimately, intentional or not, Shouto doesn’t like to speak about his scars nor let people see them. even his family doesn’t know the extent of his scarring as he is able to hide it well.

[quirkbeat-archive]

Hello. I know you're mutuals only and this is NOT me asking for a follow I promise but do you accept art of your muses/gifts from non-mutuals?

I’ve never thought about something like this, but yes I suppose! I mean, I’m not going to stop you from making whatever you want and it does give me so much joy that you’d consider something like that despite us not being mutuals. I really don’t bite, I promise.

[viatrixisms]

general tags!!

[cataclysmicregret]

general tags!!

[iceablaze]

tag drop: general.

[fictionaryhsam-blog]

Ward 003, Ward 004

A Short Story by Patricia Fuentes

Word of the Piece: psychopathic

psychopathic -  suffering from or constituting a chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior.

Example: The psychopathic patients escaped the asylum.

Genre: Thriller

TRIGGER WARNING: THE SHORT STORY CONTAINS BLOOD, VIOLENCE, AND PROFANITY. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Warning: A psychopathic patient from Ward 003 has escaped, the facility is to be put under total lockdown until the patient has been caught. The patient is of fair complexion with light freckles on both cheeks and ebony hair with wavy locks; her eye color is brown and is of 5”5 composure. All camera personnel have been alerted regarding the breach. Notify the nearest security unit in case of sighting.

Hearing the warning being broadcasted throughout the building, she looked at a slightly faded picture of a family. The pregnant mother and the father both happily holding their baby boy up and smiling at the camera while their other children, a boy and a girl, hurled teddy bears at each other.

“They should die,” she said as she faced the mirror, cut her hair, and dyed it blonde. She grabbed the chestnut-colored contact lenses and wore them.

Walking out the door was easy. However, convincing the guards near the exit to let her pass was rather difficult if it were not for the help of a fake ID and some acting.

She walked out of the facility and rode a taxi downtown. Her reflection in the rearview mirror resembled a doll yet something was amiss.

Blood. Blood smeared across her ivory skin and dangerously short silver tunic. Whose blood will it be?

“Mom! Mom! Read me the story! Please?,” little Timmy called from his bedroom. His mother smiled as she walked in with Timmy’s Mister Buckwheat’s Storybook that was filled with Spongebob stickers. “Here now, here now, make sure Mister Buckwheat is also listening,” she said with a wink. Timmy nodded and hugged his stuffed toy tightly.

“Happy Family by Archa,” his mother started to read.

❝In the forest lived a family of birds with a father, a mother, and a baby bird. The baby is loved by both parents very much. They were living very happily. However, as the days went by, the father and the mother bird started fighting over  simple reasons. The fighting kept on going for days, months even. The baby bird was so sad by seeing her parents fighting, she begged them to stop and just be happy, but they didn’t listen to her. It made her very sad. The baby bird always consoled her mother whenever the argument was over and for her sake, the mother always pretended to be convinced and supposedly returns to normal but as years passed by, the mother could no longer stay and cooperate with the father bird so she decided to leave him, but thinking of the baby, she stays.

One day, the father bird went out in search of prey so the mother bird took the opportunity and flew away with her baby. When the father returned, he could not find his family. He felt so bad and realized his mistake. He told himself, “If only I listened to my baby, this could not have happened”.

He searched for them here and there and after looking for months, he found them in a deep forest, living in a small nest. He went near the mother bird and apologized. He also apologized to the baby bird for the turn of events. By the time, the mother bird also was feeling guilty and sad for leaving the father bird alone, so she also said sorry in return. Thereafter, without blaming each other and fighting they lived with their baby bird happily.

The End.❞

Little Timmy yawned as his mother lovingly tucked him to bed and turned off his night light. She kissed his forehead and said, “Live your life happily and never blame others for your mistakes, ‘kay? I love you, Tim.” “I love you too, Mom,” he replied.

“Little guy asleep?,” Timmy’s father, Reygant Robertson, asked his wife as she joined him in the living room. Mrs. Robertson or what her husband calls her, Leigh, nodded and grabbed the remote to watch her all-time favorite TV Show.

The front door then opened to reveal Debbie, their eldest, the most stubborn but rather dashing, talented, and brilliant daughter. “I’m home!,” she said. “And where have you been, young lady?,” Leigh asked with a voice as smooth as silk. “A party,” Reygant answered and sniffed, “She reeks of alcohol.” All Debbie could do was gaze at her shoes and apologize but her mother knew better and accompanied her to her room where she was tucked into bed like Timmy, like a child being protected by her mom from the monsters in the dark.

But of course, who would forget about the university’s basketball jock, Laverne? The rudely handsome and self-centered prodigy. He’s that typical guy every girl wants to get but his only aim was to never let a relationship last for a month. For him, relationships are boring and only brings happiness for a short period of time. “Where’s Deb?,” he asked his parents. “She’s already sleeping. Why?,” Leigh replied. “That girl better know she got 10 bucks in for me,” he said before going back to his room and shutting his door with a thud.

The Robertsons was the ideal family in their neighborhood, especially because they were the only ones residing at 1818 Roguski Road. They have their eldest daughter, Debbie, a very dashing, talented, and brilliant college student, their son, Laverne, a jock with a rather rough but a family person, their little boy, Timmy, a sweet, thoughtful, kind-hearted, and brilliant little kid, and their baby boy, Jam.

“Those kids. How can we leave for work if they behave like that?,” Reygant sighed. They were supposed to go on a 3-day business trip the next day but are currently thinking twice about going. However, in the morning, there was an urgent call from their office and it was mandatory for them to go on the trip so they did. They left Debbie in charge of the household and drove to the airport.

“Are they gone?,” Laverne peeked from his bedroom door. Debbie nodded and let her brother make calls for a night party. She headed to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for all of them and afterwards, made sure that Timmy and Jam have already taken a bath and have eaten properly. She went in to take bath too and was greeted by an anonymous phone call afterwards.

“Hello? Robertson residence, who’s this?,” she put the phone on loudspeaker for Laverne to hear.

“I’m Melanie Torrin. Your mother called me and asked me to stay over and be your nanny.”

Debbie held a hand to the phone so the caller wouldn’t hear her ask Laverne if he ever recalled their mom saying that there would be a nanny. Laverne shrugged and told her to just tell the woman to come so they could prepare for the night party while someone was looking after Timmy and Jam.

It was exactly 2:59 pm when Melanie knocked on the door and started her nanny duties. Everything was well except for one thing. Melanie always sang songs that depicted torture, poisoning, and death. It made Debbie uncomfortable but she disregarded it nonetheless. Together with her brother, they called classmates and schoolmates for “a party that you’ll never forget” while the nanny made snacks and entertained the two young ones.

The party was supposed to be the night of the next day but Melanie had a plan up her sleeves. She went to Debbie’s room and handed the girl a makeup kit that she bought online. Debbie was of course, delighted and went to put the makeup on but as soon as it made contact with her skin, she screamed in pain. Her eyes welled with tears as her skin, from having itchy red spots, turned into a quickly spreading blistering rash, the makeup was irremovable. She looked to Melanie who was blocking the doorway with a maniac smile on her face. “Remember Alice? You stole her man, you put roaches in her locker, you told her to just die, you were the reason why she overdosed herself. And yet you continued on being Little Miss Perfect. You didn’t even apologize. Oh wait, you did! You apologized to yourself for getting so stressed over an imbecile. You self-centered, makeup savvy, party addict, boyfriend-snatcher, bitch,” Melanie whispered in her ear. Debbie scratched and scratched until she bled. It was such a wonderful feat wherein the rash had already spread from her face to her upper torso and then her lower. It was as if Debbie was already in the process of decay. And just before she took her last breath, her eyes landed on the makeup kit’s cover with the lettering “POISON IVY”.

“Pill diet, pill diet, if they give you a new pill then you will buy it. If they say to kill yourself, then you will try it. All the makeup in the world, won't make you less insecure. You got weights in your pockets, when you go to the doctor's. Your favorite candy's cotton, that's why all your teeth are rotten. Silly girl with silly boys,” Melanie sang as Debbie tried to scream her last scream. She locked the door before leaving the latter to rot to death.

“What happened? Debs was screaming!,” Laverne rushed towards his sister’s room but Melanie stopped him. “Oh it was nothing. I gave her a makeup kit and she screamed out of excitement. Even told me to let you know, she wouldn’t eat dinner and would sleep the night off for the party you’re planning,” she said. “Oh okay then,” he shrugged and went to play video games.

Soon after dinner, Melanie went to give Laverne some milk and cookies. He ate them happily but coughed up blood afterwards. “Laverne Robertson, basketball jockey, playboy. You broke too many girls’ hearts and yet you act like you don’t know anything. You switch from one relationship to another. Quite astounding, actually, to think that you’re the Mister Dean’s Lister and yet you behave like you’re uneducated,” he locked eyes with Melanie who was smiling angelically as she sang, “Do you like my cookies? They're made just for you. A little bit of sugar, but lots of poison, too.” She locked the door as well and went to tuck little Timmy to bed.

“Read me the story, nanny,” he said. Melanie obliged and even let little Timmy hold the book. The story was about to finish when Timmy yelped, “Nanny! A paper cut!” His index finger was bleeding and his eye welled with tears. “Spoiled little brat,” Melanie went to get a band aid and helped Timmy stop the bleeding but as soon as she got back, he was having a seizure. Melanie then, as evil as she is, sang him a lullaby, “Can't take it anymore, need to put you to bed. Sing you a lullaby where you die at the end.”

Last but not the least was Jam, the baby, who was crying. “Hungry, little cutie pie?,” she said then  sang, “I can’t stand your whining. Where’s your binky now?,” before giving her some milk. Jam sucked and drank the milk wholeheartedly while Melanie sang, “Hush, little baby, drink your spoiled milk. I'm really crazy, need my prescription filled.”

And on that night, the Robertsons’ children died in ways a mother, a nanny, should have done to care for them.

The night of the party, a news report aired through the whole city.

“News Report: The bodies of Debbie, Laverne, Timothy, and Jam Robertson were found at 1818 Roguski Road, all died poison-administered deaths. A note was found on the doorstep by teenagers who were saying that they were going to a party they would never forget but instead, found a note saying: 1, 2, Melatonin is coming for you 3, 4, Baby, won't you lock the door? 5, 6, I'm done with this 7, 8, It's getting late, So close your eyes, sleep for days. Next time you're alone, think twice when you grab the phone. Our deepest condolences to the mother and father of these kids and may we all be careful and vigilant of our surroundings.”

Warning: A psychopathic patient from Ward 004 has also escaped, the facility is again to be put under total lockdown until the Patient 004 as well as 003 has been caught. Patient 003 is of fair complexion with light freckles on both cheeks and ebony hair with wavy locks; her eye color is brown and is of 5”5 composure. Patient 004 is also of light skin tone with dimples on the left cheek; a redhead with blue eyes. He stands 6”8. All camera personnel have been alerted regarding the breach. Notify the nearest security unit in case of sighting.

Hearing the warning being broadcasted throughout the city, he looked at the security picture of a girl who had short blonde hair and chestnut eyes.

“She should die,” he said as he faced the mirror and wore a beanie to hide his red hair. Walking through town was easy. However, avoiding security cameras and units made it difficult to move from one alley to another.

He rode a taxi to 1818 Roguski Road and watched the blonde girl walk out the door and place a note on the doorstep. He sniffed the air and followed the girl. He wanted something.

Her blood.

Her blood smeared across his skin.

Whose blood was it again?

[huntingcry]

tag drop: general.

[shootstyled]

tag drop.

[ofdecaying]

tag drop: general.

[blastzoned]

what is the purpose of revamping blogs?

there’s a lot of reasons behind revamping blogs!

your blog’s cluttered. if you don’t have a good tagging system or are lazy with it, you may feel stressed out trying to find stuff on your blog. this isn’t a problem for everyone, but especially if you’re trying to find that one specific post, it can be very frustrating!

you need a fresh start. sometimes people just like to wipe everything clean and start again. I did that with my Shouto after I turned his main verse into the runaway verse I have now! it was easier and less confusing, plus it allowed me to just throw away the old conceived notions about my muse and give him a fresh new take.

things don’t work! tumblr’s not a very functional website. with my old Baku blog, I logged back on to find some of my tags had just…broken. at random. they worked before but didn’t work now, and it was very frustrating!

straightening things out, in the case that you run more than one blog. everyone uses their own unique tagging system. I’ve adopted numbered tags, which are easier to remember than whatever I used for the tag! but my old tagging system required me to try and remember the lyric I’d use and caused some frustration.

updating an aesthetic. sometimes you completely changed your writing style / graphics / icons and it just doesn’t fit. it feels jumbled and gross and you just want to throw all the old stuff away to pave way for the new.

you’ve been away for a while. nothing’s worse than coming back after a long hiatus and everyone you ever roleplayed with is...gone. and you can’t get new followers. and maybe there’s some of the above as well. sometime’s it’s best to start all over again.

overall, the purpose of revamping a blog depends on why it’s being revamped, but usually it’s to make the roleplayer behind the blog more comfortable being on their blog and to reduce stress!

[iceablaze-blog]

@explosiveheroics​ sent,  Talk about Midoriya? anonymous sent,  talk about deku !!

          ❝  Midoriya  is...  ❞

          it’s  hard  to  come  up  with  the  words  to  describe  Midoriya.  it’s  hard  to  put  all  of  the  things  that  come  to  mind  in  words,  in  a  phrase  that  makes  any  sort  of  sense  or  means  as  much  as  Midoriya  does.

          ❝  Midoriya  is  like  a  star.  ❞  if  that  makes  sense.  Midoriya  is  something  he  thinks  of  when  he  looks  at  the  sky  and  wishes  he  were  home.  ❝  he  is  bright  and  he  sparkles,  and  he  lights  up  the  room  the  way  a  star  does  the  sky.  he’s  brilliant  and  caring,  and  he  feels  things  so,  so  deeply.  ❞

          ❝  Midoriya  is...  ❞  so  many  things  and  feelings  that  he  cannot  put  into  words,  into  phrases.  ❝  he  is  strong  and  intelligent  and  he  never  knows  when  to  quit.  sometimes  it’s  good,  sometimes  it’s  not,  but  he  never  lets  that  stop  him.  he  never  just  leaves  someone  behind,  because  he  sees  good  in  everyone,  even  the  tiniest  sliver.  he  wants  to  save  everyone,  and  he  hasn’t  learned  yet  that  he  can’t.  Midoriya  is  infuriating  and  stubborn  and  rash  and  invigorating—  ❞

          ❝  and  he’s  wonderful.  ❞

          (  and  he  means  so  much  more  to  me  than  I  can  ever  say.  )

[quirkbeat-archive]

whoo irl I'm allergic to spicy but watching/reading your Hawks? I'm here for a spicy nugget. also, your blog is the shit love it a lot!

hawks is a certified fuckboii and y’all are stuck with him forever. I let him loose on the dash and he ain’t never behaving again.

[voidcried-blog]

tag drop

[iceablaze-blog]

anonymous & @gale-force​  /  ship meme.

     InaTodo!

vomit / don’t ship / okay / cute / adorable / perfect / beyond flawless / hot damn / screaming and crying / i will ship them in hell

[iceablaze-blog]

who gave him the tongue piercing??

not a licensed jeweler, I can tell you that much. probably some shady dude in a back alley.

or Dabi.

Dabi seems like the kind of person to go ‘fuck yeah I’ll put a hole in you.’