#it'll be funny anyway

[hydrachea]

Explorers of Sky is a good game.

[personishfive]

in which his life is like a video game

[nocofamilyau]

so much for his day off, eh? (1/8)

[plush-rabbit]

Nullified Quirk

Request: ASFGSGSHS IDEA!!!

Shigaraki fucking Aizawas daughter/student/someone v close to him, and having Aizawa be forced watch and use his quirk so Shigaraki can touch her fully without her truning into dust

Shameful anon time, too embarrassed =w=' TW: Noncon Word Count: 4K A/N: don't be ashamed here, i started this blog with shameful stuf so please feel free to be gross and never apologize for it here

A copycat quirk isn’t rare, but it isn’t common. Yours is particularly strong with you not only gaining access to quirks- mutants even- but also gaining their appearance. It’s a useful quirk when the situation turns sticky.

No one really expected the underground hero, Eraserhead, to take a new hero under his wing, much less make the so-called new hero his official sidekick, and yet, there you were, standing beside him, ready to be his sidekick. 

You preen when he praises you, with each pat on the top of your head, and each and every small introduction further into his life makes you feel special. He treats you as his kid, and you love that, you love knowing that the Eraserhead is more than that to you. He’s your mentor, he’s the one who patches you up after missions, he’s the one that you can call for a ride at two in the morning. He’s Shota for you.

Of course, you aren’t the only one that finds him so much greater than others. You remember the U.S.J. incident, and how the villain there mentioned how cool Eraserhead was- or is. You aren’t sure where his feelings stand now. You remember how the villain looked at you when Shota protected you- how the villain’s eye that was visible behind the hand had widened with realization at who you were when your name was screamed. Ever since then, you’ve felt as if you've been watched, and no matter the amount of eyes that you took, you could never find whoever or whatever it was that was prying into your life. 

Now, you run alongside Eraserhead, clad in your own hero outfit that resembles his. Your boots splash against the puddles of water left from the rain. Air whips beside you, a strong hand gripping at your forearm lifts you into the air and you turn to see Eraserhead use his binding cloth to swing you both over a dumpster that was shoved into the way by the escaping villain. 

The villain with the blue hair turns sharply. You stumble into the ground when you’re drooped, hand indented and scratched with loose pebbles, and your nails scratch at the concrete as you give a sharp turn, watching the villain enter the building, 

“Shota!” Your wrists hurt, and the smell of wet trash is sticking to your clothes. “He went inside!” You push yourself forward, opening the door, only hearing your mentor’s words a second too late to hold on. 

The inside of the building is trashed- graffiti painted on the walls, empty boxes and flat cardboard littered across the floor, and surprisingly, a few of the fluorescent lights still work, giving the building an eerie glow. You turn yourself around, arms outstretched and balled into fists, eyes scanning the corners of the room, wishing that you had copied- you freeze. You see him, standing in the corner, concealed in the shadows. 

You take off towards him, and in a second, something wraps around your ankles and drops you to the floor. Your head smacks into the floor, and you howl in pain with tears in your eyes. Whatever it is that is wrapped around your ankle drags you and you squirm, unable to lift yourself up to undo whatever it is. Behind you, the door bangs open, and you stretch your neck to see Shota rush towards you, only for something to latch onto him, and pull him down, his head smacking into the floor.

“Shota!” Yelling only worsens the pain in your head, and your twist you body. Your palms smack against the floor, and you’re desperate to stop yourself. You're only able to watch as he lifts his head, arms outstretched towards you as he tries to raise himself up. You aren’t sure why he’s saying no, and your vision is beginning to blur around the edges. Bile is on your tongue, and something warm trickles down the side of your face. 

You barely register that it’s blood. 

Hands grab at your head and jerk you back into looking at the ceiling. You gasp, and twist upon yourself and you see him standing above you, his eye looking down at you and in your haze of blood and nausea, he looks monstrous. The hand that covers his face is menacing, and it seems like it's warping around him, distorting his features and you can’t register what’s going on around you.

Something cold holds onto your body and you think it’s death approaching, that the hit to your head was too harsh- it already feels as if your brain is spilling out and turning into mush inside of you. Shigaraki is above you, grabbing at your body, and you’re going cold, goosebumps rising over your body, and nails scratching at your skin. Your calves are bare and cold, but your thighs are constricted and you lift your head. In a cruel world, this is when your body returns to itself, and you watch as the villain undoes your pants and pulls them off, letting them dust off beside him. 

“No,” you mumble, lifting your hands and grabbing at the hem of your shirt and pulling it down. Your mind is catching up to what your eyes see, and you try to protect yourself, very much aware of how bare you’re becoming. “No, fuck,” you slur out, spit bubbling at the corner of your mouth as you start to take deep breaths. Something wraps around your ankle and drags you around the floor and you turn your head and kick out your legs, and you see Shota looking at you when you turn, and you freeze. 

He looks away the moment that you catch his eyes. 

“Look at me,” he hisses, and grabs you by the chin, making you look at him. “You only look away when I tell you to.” His hand wraps around your neck, and you take a sharp breath.

There’s a sharp pain that starts around your neck, it’s like your skin is being scraped slowly and painfully, each layer and centimeter pulled away quickly and it hurts. Tears are in your eyes and streaming down your face, and you’re calling for your mentor, nails on the concrete and blood dampening your hair. You scream, legs kicking into the ground and hands wrapped tight around a wrist, desperate to pull it away, and just like that, the harsh pain is numbed down, and your head is twisted to where Eraserhead is laid down, his hair standing on its ends, and eyes glowing. 

He’s looking at him.

He’s looking at you.

He’s being forced to watch whatever is about to happen.

He’s going to watch. 

The realization makes your intestines twist into a tight knot, and sweat forms under your arms and in the back of your knees. Your shirt is ripped from your body, the quality fabric torn as if it were nothing, made and held by weak stitches, and you try to cover the parts of yourself that you have only seen in the mirror. You try to fight and pull away, try to push yourself away from him, and in your injured body and weak mind, you are quickly overpowered by the villain above you. 

His hands roam your body, all five fingers dragging over every inch of exposed skin. It pulls on your underwear, dragging them to your ankles, a hand on your ankle, and the other fisting cloth into his nose as he takes a deep breath with his eyes shut. “Setting up the trap wasn’t all that difficult you know?” He pulls down his pants, boxers going down. His cock is semi-hard and you’re realizing that this isn’t a scare, it’s him making a point. The head is red, a gossamer string of precum leaking from his slit and dripping onto the inside of your thigh. It bobs into a stand as he tucks your underwear into his pocket, fabric peeking out to mock you. You hope that you pass out. “You both have enough enemies that they were more than happy to help.” His hands are on your chest, nails scratching down the valley between your breasts, and stopping above your belly button. “I wonder if they knew what I was planning to do.” He moves the hand away from his face and his smile is stretched thin, teeth slick with saliva and pointed like a monster.

His teeth latch onto your nipple, and he rolls the bud around with his teeth, squishing it between the bone and tugging it away. It’s uncomfortable, and you try to push him off, hands shoving him away, but it only has him grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto his cock. Nails imbed themselves into his shoulders, flecks of red peeking between the skin and nail, and it does nothing to stop him from suckling so sweetly on your breasts.

Spit and tongue roll off your pert nipple, his cheeks hollow as he humps your body, the other hands pinching and groping the other breast. You can feel every roll and flex of the pink muscle, feel it be pushed and teased between teeth, and the stimulation between your breasts and the restless humping makes your cunt slick. He lets your breast go with a pop, and moves over to where the neglected teat is burning hot with blood and ache; his breath is hot over it, and you beg for him to stop.

“I love your tits so much,” he says. “I always jerk off to your photos, ya know.” And with that, he gives the same attention to the breast, suckling and teething, his cock hot and hard on the inside of your thigh.

Bruises coat your chest, a deep hue of blood that’s been rushed and flutters over to where he’s touched will serve as a reminder far past when you’ve cleaned his spit off of you. He licks your face, the tip of his tongue starting at your chin, and the flat of his tongue going up in a long stripe across his face. You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way that his tongue felt on you.

You won’t forget how rough he was when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. It swipes across the roof of your mouth, across your teeth, and between your lips and teeth, running over the gums. His tongue is fat, spit pooling past the corner of your lips and running down your chin and over your jaw. Your heart beats fast in your chest, flutters like a captive bird, and you are aware of the eyes that are on you, how every second that you aren’t dead, is because you have an audience. 

Hands paw and slap against his chest as he deepens the kiss, so desperate to taste you that his own taste and stench will never leave you. Your cunt drips and stains the floor beneath you. His tongue is still in your mouth, invading and seeking over every inch that he can claim, and his cock rubs between your cunt, spreading your lips apart to rub his cockhead over your hardened clit, and he moans into the kiss.

“I wanted to wait until you were begging for me to fuck you,” he whispers, lips wet against yours, “but I need to feel you. Wanna stick my dick deep in your pussy,” he mumbles. 

He stretches you painfully, pushes his cockhead in and without waiting for you to adjust, slams his hips until they’re pressed against yours. You scream until your throat feels raw, and you cover your eyes, sniffling and crying, kicking your legs out and trying to think of anything other than the feeling of being ripped apart. “Fuck!” A string of curses taint the air between the three of you, and you’re left hearing him, how deep his voice goes, the way that it croaks and how desperate it is with every thrust that he gives to you.

“How do you think your mentor is going to look at you, huh?” His eyes are crazed and from his neck, a hue of red is blossoming, and he gives his entire being into pushing inside of you. “You think he’ll think of you the same as before? Or will- fuck-” He dips his head down and hides himself in the crook of your shoulder- “will he think of you as the slut sidekick who fucked a villain in front of him? Do you think he’ll jerk off and think about your tits being sucked on and hearing the sloppy noises that your pussy is making?”

You wheeze and gasp for air. He’s too heavy. He reeks of sweat and musk, and it’s filling your senses; your lungs are filled with him, he’s invading every inch of you, and no matter where you turn your head, you see him, and you feel him. 

“Shigaraki-” you hiccup- the soles of your boots digging into the concrete below- “please stop, please.” It’s getting harder to breathe, and you don’t know if you’ll survive into the next day. You worry about how long you’ll be trapped under him, how long you’ll feel him.

There’s a sharp pain when he pulls back and slams his hips into you. There’s no pacing, it's quick and brutal, already searching for his own high and grunting above you like an animal. “Say my name again.” You can feel his cock stretch you, the girth of it feeling as if it’s going to rip you apart, but that could also be how unprepared you were to take him. “I wanna hear you say my name when I fill your pussy with my cum.” You feel something thick and warm slide down your neck and over your shoulder. 

Your eyes widen, and you arch your back when his teeth bite at your neck. Your cunt squeezes around him, and you feel him shudder, moaning into you, stiffening and moaning loudly into your ear. You realize that he’s already finished, and yet he’s still inside of you, still erect and twitching his cock in you.

“‘M gonna fuck you over and over again till I’m drained,” he says so softly against the shell of your ears. “I want you to take my seed. Gonna push it so far up your cunt, wanna make sure that you always remember this day.” You cry, and he kisses away the tears, slowly pumping his cock into you- loud squelching sounds fill the room, and you feel his semen run down the inside of your thighs. “I don’t think I could ever forget this day. Every time I see you, I’m gonna think about your pussy and how wet you are.” He lifts his head and turns it over to face Eraserhead. “Can you hear them?” You refuse to look that way. “They’re clenching over my cock. I’m surprised you never laid them down and fucked them. You ever use your cloth on them? Bind their limbs and press them against a wall and use their pussy?” He’s gotten quicker, the mental image of your mentor doing something so perverse only adds to his arousal.

“When I escape, I swear I’ll-” 

Eraserhead is cut off by you. You can’t stand to hear him, so you wail, and hide yourself behind your hands. “Stop- please.” Your voice is muffled behind your hands, thick and slurred, your plead for him to stop talking. He won’t stop fucking you until he’s had his full, untill you’ve been filled, but you just need him to stop talking. Slowly, your body reacts to the stimulation, and the opening of your cunt doesn’t sting as much. 

The villain is monstrous, touching you softly, pinching at your nipples and stretching them until you yelp. His hands touch your body, and you’re surprised that Eraserhead has gone this long without blinking. “You feel so good,” he says, kissing you at the end, his tongue pushing into your mouth and swirling all over, pulling apart with a string of spit connecting the two of you. His face is flushed, and he looks down at you. “Fuck, I think I could fall in love with your pussy,” he says so earnestly. “So fucking glad that I got to fuck you.” You see the inside of his cheeks hollow, and he opens his mouth, a thick spring of drool pools out and is left on your cheek, sliding down to your hair. “If being a hero doesn’t work, ‘m sure someone will pay a fortune to sink their cock into your greedy pussy.”

You do your best to stop the growing arousal. You can’t muster up any coherent thoughts, other than a few babbling words that have you choking on your tears. 

“Tell him that you’re a slut,” he spits out. “Look at him and tell him how much you loved being fucked.” You start to plead for him to stop, that you won’t do that- that you can’t- but then he wraps his hand around your throat. “I may not be able to use my quirk, but I can still kill you,” he says in a low voice. “So turn your head and tell Eraserhead how much of a whore you are.”

Reluctantly, you turn your head and you choke on your words, your chest sputtering and heart beating rapidly as if it were going to burst out of your chest. “I’m a-” you stutter- “I’m a slut. You focus on Earserhead’s forehead, trying to not pay attention at how strained and exhausted he looks from having his head slammed to the ground and having to keep his quirk active for so long. “I’m a whore,” you sob. 

“Yell my name. Tell him how much you love having your pussy stuffed with my cock.”.

“I love having my-” you sob, turning and shaking your head, unable to keep going, but you’re met with a slap across your face that has your cheek pulsing and burning with blood. You wheeze and your head is forced to turn to face your mentor. “I love having my pussy stuffed with Shiaragki’s cock.” 

“Say it again,” he moans, slamming his hips into yours, his movements slowly turning sloppy. “I want you to yell it out loud.”

“I love Shigaraki’s cock! I love his cock so much,” you wail, thighs clenching and legs kicking out.” 

He gives your clit a sharp slap, making you wince and clench around him, jerking your hips to meet his. “Look at him and tell him that.” You look at him with wide eyes. “Tell your mentor how much you love my cock- how you love the feeling of it. Do it before I decide to choke you.”

You squint your eyes shut, and take a shuddering breath before turning over to look at Eraserhead. The tears in your eyes that stream down, only help so much to obscure your vision. “I love Shiagaraki’s cock! I love how it feels inside of me!”

“Fuck!” He curses out. He’s getting close and you hope that this will be the end. “Tell him how you’re a fucking slut. How you want me to fuck you like a whore. How you love villain cock and want my villain cum in your greedy pussy,” he commands, wrapping his hand around your throat.

You hesitate and his hand tightens around you, nails breaking your skin, until you’re choking and flailing your limbs. “I’m a slut,” you cough out, spitting wetting the floor beneath you. With each raggedy breath, you say a vile sentence out loud, hoping that he’ll ejaculate into you already. “I want Shigaraki to fuck me like a whore.” The knot in your stomach is starting to tighten, and you kick your legs out, clenching your cunt around his cock. “I love villain cock and I want Shigaraki to cum in my greedy pussy,” you bawl, biting down on your lip when you feel your high finally start to tear through your body.

Your body tenses and a rush of water spills out of you, spraying over him and your left crying on the floor as the villain pumps into you. “Ha!” He laughs manically. “Did you see that Earserhead? They’re a squirter!”

Left sensitive, your body shakes and twitches, the inside of your cunt, wet and squishy with your arousal and his seed. He kisses you again, and wet, sloppy kisses peppered over your face, as he moans out your name, and lets his weight fall above you. You’re crushed, and his hand squirms between the two of you, letting the flat of his hand rest over the soft swell of your stomach.

“Your pussy really is the best,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your cheek as his cock twitches it’s own arousal into you.

His weight is heavy above you, crushing your chest and suffocating you. With him still inside of you, you can feel his cock twitch and leak something inside of you. The fluorescent lights make your head hurt. You feel his lips press against the side of your face and tears slide down to wash where his lips have touched you. His hand cups over your breast, and pinches at the abused nipple. You feel him smile when you let out a whine.

“You felt so good,” he mumbles. “I wish I could keep you- fuck you whenever I wanted and kiss you whenever.” You feel heavy.

The weight disappears and he lifts you up, your body limp like a doll, and your mind empty, eyes staring into nothing. He drags you with him, nails digging into your wrist and there’s something leaking out of you, a thick warm trail sliding down the inside of your thigh as your feet stumble on the ground. His breath is warm beside the shell of your ear, and it makes your skin burn, feeling like a rash is breaking out and spreading itself down your neck and flaming your chest. You’re let go, and you fall without support and the pain on your knees and the slamming of the door brings you back to reality. 

Your eyes dart around the room until you find your mentor, still staring at you, legs bound to the floor and nails scraped with crimson tinting at his fingertips. You’re not sure what to do. A breath fills your lungs, and it quickly leaves. Another enters, sharper and shakier, and your breaths are heavy, chest rising and falling, with tears welling in your eyes and dripping down your cheeks and landing on your chest. Your arms wrap around your body, nails scratching at the exposed skin and scratching down, desperate to peel away what he’s touched. 

Screams are muffled by your hand, legs pinched tight and eyes staring at the ground that’s covered in grime. You can feel his heaviness on you, and you want the ground to swallow you, to open a cavern underneath you and let you fall into nothingness. 

Time has passed and your throat is sore. There's a lump in your throat, and you can feel how raw it is, the iron thin on your tongue, and the queasiness that’s making itself known in your stomach is threatening to spill past your hand and onto your knees.  You want to walk away, and wash the blood, grime, and spit off of you. You want to scoop out whatever it is that he’s filled you with and let it wash down the drain into the pipes and never see the light of day again. 

But you can’t leave yet. With shaky legs, you stand and hold yourself against the wall for a moment, before walking towards your mentor where he lays trapped. His eyes have looked away, and they don’t look at you as you rest your hand on the makeshift trap. You shut your eyes tight when your hands turn pale and nails turn chipped and sharp as the trap disintegrates into ash. He finally turns to you, and you look away. You jump when his jacket is placed over you.

“Wait here.” His voice is quiet, and you can feel the heaviness of his hand pat at the top of your head and pull away when you shy away from his touch. He mumbles an apology that you don’t respond to. “I’m going to get you clothes and then I’ll take you home. Just wait here.” The door closes with a slam and you’re left alone.

[aimasup]

throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess

He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)

[suguwu]

again i'm not saying i self-ship with aventurine but in a modern au the other option of us meeting is he tries to buy out my company and i'm just like "sir this is a non-profit"

[indecisive-v]

greetings lovebrush tumblr (i say as if half my recent posts haven't been under the lovebrush chronicles tag)

[beatcroc]

hi. vore on main. no that's it that's the post this is straight up genuinely and unironically voreposting on main. mostly just a lot of cutsey dumb goofy shit, but monsterfucker brain did get ahold of me for a bit there so there's also a handful that are uhhhh Spicy. nothing explicit, but like, It's Vore Dude, so if you look under the cut that is YOUR problem ok? ok.

ok listen before i move on i have to put it out there look i KNOW i drew the funny rat skeleton comic with this guy but that was ONLY because it was funny. thats not my real belief, he doesn't have any organs at all he is just a sack of gunk. he is harmless. it's basically just the same inside as on the outside but slightly more damp since it's not exposed to air to give him that drier 'skin' layer.

also i already typed this out in my friendserver so im pasting it here now too. my stance on fp re: horniness is i really can't see him as a 'sexual' being, per se, especially with how non-biological he is, but also he really really really likes physical intimacy so if you are giving him permission to be weird and touchy on you in any context, let alone one both parties would enjoy, i mean. he's not gonna say no. this Could be about sex or w/e if someone wanted to fuck him but more relevantly here yeah it's about vore. i think that's categorically about the Most you can be touchy/in contact on a guy so yeah thats always what he's going to go for. tangentially he just thinks it's fun to make peppino* flustered so since pep does not particularly Enjoy being vored, fp has other options to Get Up In There for something else pep might enjoy *spoken generally for whatever theoretical partner, just peppino is the one that's readily available here and fun to use

also while im here id like to say. no peppino is not a monsterfucker are you kidding me. he is not going to ever go out of his way for weirdness. weirdness really has a way of finding him though, and he's shockingly tolerant of it as long as he doesn't clock it as a threat. anyway what im saying is if you got a big clingy beast around and al up in your business all the time shits just gonna kinda Happen sometimes. he's certainly not going to Encourage it but if hes already in that situation, might as well at that point.

[itsdefinitely]

🤓 ⚫ (let's get some positivity lmao)

🤓 favorite character from npmd and why ⚫️ favorite lord in black and why

i don't think i can choose between the lords!! it really depends on what i want to rotate in my brain. i really like drawing eyes, but i also really like drawing tinky, and wiggly's expressions are always fun, and nibbly's shapes are silly, and pokey's fun to pose. right now, i'd have to say nibbly! i think he's horrifying :)

i narrowed down "characters from npmd" to "characters who have their first appearance in npmd" (according to the youtube upload dates and excluding workin' boys since i didn't get to see it). probably richie!! i find myself thinking about him a lot

[necrotic-nephilim]

i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.

i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)

but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.

and the peace offering is Tim.

Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.

and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.

and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.

i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.

also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.

[hydrachea]

I think if Blade ever does send a text directly it should be a single sentence of the most basic kind, and then it never happens again.

[tvckerwash]

you know a trait I wish we would've gotten to see more of post recollection is Sneaky BastardTM wash who has a plan on top of the real plan and he doesn't tell anyone about said real plan until the last possible second, essentially forcing those around him to participate against their will in one way or another. get moved around like pawns on a chess board idiots.

[welcometogrouchland]

I think fans have collectively agreed that with the amount of traumatic brain injuries that Dick occurs across canon and the multiverse it's frankly crazy he doesn't wear a helmet, however I've also seen many people respond that half of Dick's appeal is pwetty widdle face and if we cover that up he's gonna lose his sparkle, an opinion I mostly agree with even if I've phrased it as dumb as possible on purpose.

My solution to this is: nightwing with a gambit headsock

[realchemistry]

Buddie fic teaser

I was listening to "Down Bad" and the idea for this fic came to me. My brain works in funny ways so it doesn't really match the song (at least for now), since it's basically a different take on accident-induced-amnesia.

Anyways, this is just a teaser, I literally thought about it today so it's not done and it might never get finished. Maybe posting it here will help move it along...

No name fic, rated T thus far since the starting point is the shooting.

When Eddie went down, Buck felt a part of himself died with him. It was like an out-of-body experience: he could see himself paralyzed, completely frozen, unable to function because his best friend in the whole world had just been shot. Eddie’s body gave out, hit the pavement, and Buck was pushed to the floor. Eddie was bleeding out right in front of him, and Buck felt himself dying along, but there was no bullet hole to blame. It was all pain, the worst of aches he’d ever known, it was like his heart was ripped apart as Eddie’s body was torn. Eddie seemed to be reaching out, and Buck’s brain went back online. He thought about Chris, about their love for each other and his love for them. Buck had to make it right, so he gathered his strength and wits, and got into action. After dragging his best friend’s body, after placing him in the truck, after tending to his wound, after dropping him off at the hospital, Buck still didn’t feel completely alive. There was a lot of waiting involved, a lot of uncertainty, a lot of crying. When he was told that Eddie was going to be okay, that was when his heart started beating again. Buck ran to the hospital, he needed to see Eddie alive and well for himself. The only reason he hadn’t been right next to his bed was because he knew Chris needed him and, if he was honest with himself, he needed the kid just as much to get through it all. Once he got to Eddie’s floor, Ana was waiting outside the door. She didn’t look as happy as Buck was expecting, all things considered. He wanted to greet her quickly and move on to the room but she stopped him. “Hey, Evan, just, you need to know something before you go in.” “What is it?” Buck was feeling dizzy all of a sudden. “When Eddie woke up, he didn’t… he didn’t remember some things. The doctor said maybe he hit his head or the trauma—” Ana sounded defeated. “What does he remember?” Buck asked, dreading her answer.

[overly-verbose]

A whole lot of the next Part is literally just;

Everyone else's brains: *the entirety of the Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney OST intensifies*

Meanwhile, SIkuna's brain: *the Wii theme song (occasionally interrupted by falling_metal_pipe_sound.mp3) starts playing*

.

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

*taps mic* I forgot to adhere to the agenda:

Katsuki/Izuku is so freaking canon guys-