Erasure @dryceyed-a - Tumblr Blog

;; moving blogs. you can find me over @dryceyed again.

;; I’m decluttering my dash in hopes of being more active. If I unfollow you and you feel like you would still like to interact, IM me and I’ll re-add you.

#.ooc

ssix-shooter

[Hey guys! If you could like or reblog this if you’d be interested in rping with a freshly made Snipe of BNHA that would be great! Thanks so much!]

#throws this at my dash again bc #if you guys haven't seen basswood's snipe #ho boy get ready for some quality #.ooc #.promo

magicsp3lls:

“– I was only going to grab a snack!” He chimes back to his teacher, relaxing a little when he isn’t immediately scolded, and instead given a chance to plead his case.

“I’ve been studying since I finished my classes… I did not have the time, unfortunately.“

“But! One little snack, and I will be passing out after. I am very sleepy, rest assured.” YŪGA insists, offering Aizawa a more sincere smile. “I thought it would be more kind to my health if I did not go to bed on an empty stomach! A little sleepiness is a fair price for that.”

“I apologize, Sensei. If you want, I’ll go back to my dormitory…“

“I would NEVER inconvenience one of my exceptionally hard-working teachers–! ☆ ”

A stab in his abdomen makes him cringe, but he tries to feign indifference as best he can. The last thing he wants to do is worry his homeroom teacher– especially not since he’s been under so much stress.

So that’s the case, then. Aizawa looks over the student cautiously still. Aoyama isn’t a trouble maker, especially put next to the rest of the class, but it never paid to be careful. The last thing he needs is getting reprimanded for his students causing more trouble.

Still, he can’t exactly tell the kid to go back to bed and starve. He’s tired, not heartless.

“It’s not a problem, Aoyama. I’m heading to the kitchenette as well.” He gestures with his coffee mug, starts walking slowly as if waiting for him to follow. “Need more help to stay awake than I’d like, and I still have more to do.” Truthfully, he’d have put the papers off if he could’ve. But Aoyama did need something to eat, and Shouta isn’t going to leave him to his own devices so late. And... something still seems off. For Aoyama to be studying so much that he didn’t get a chance to eat... he’s stressed, certainly. The coursework is likely only part of the reason, though. Whatever it is, Aizawa intends on figuring it out.

#.magicsp3lls

pokec0re

#.aes

lilyluner-deactivated20150224

Everyone I RP with deserves a Nobel Peace Prize for not killing me when I don’t reply for like a month

#// h ah #// sorry to my partners #.psa #.ooc

ssix-shooter

[Hey guys! If you could like or reblog this if you’d be interested in rping with a freshly made Snipe of BNHA that would be great! Thanks so much!]

#// basswood is like the sweetest mun ever and #// her snipe is so good #// please take a look at her blog!!#.promo #.ooc

greatestheroicfire-blog

@dryceyed from STARTER

The hospital has always been a place Enji hates, between the smell and the white rooms and sterile floor and a place that reminds him so dearly of death… yes, It’s a place he rather hates. And yet, he’s in here, and will be stuck in here for quite a while. His eye was wrapped tight, a little bit blood having seeped through the once pristine bandages, and his arm was wrapped just as tight.

He will never get sight in his eye again, but that’s ok. Depth perception is overrated.

He hasn’t really gotten visitors yet, expect for the few fans and news people who were trying to sneak in to get an autograph or a statement, but he was fine with that. He knows he doesn’t have friends, a family he hardly has. He had sacrificed everything for this- that moment of stardom. That moment to stand tall on the stage in front of the world, arm raised in victory and proof that Yes! He is just as good as All Might. Yes, he deserved that spot at Number One. Yes, he can be a pillar of peace too.

And he got it. He got it, but as a consequence as he laid broken in a hospital bed, he would have no visitors that really mattered. That was, until Aizawa walked in. Enji looked over and froze, he was shocked. He had a visitor, one that knew his real name, one that… perhaps even truly cared.

The shock quickly fell away, “Aizawa,” his voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t wan to hope, though. Hope only leads to disappointment and sorrow- a broken heart along with his broken body. No, perhaps he is just here to update Enji about his son, and what’s happening out on the front lines now.

dryceyed-a

His eyes flick from some point off in the distance to the broken hero on the bed, fingers tangled in trying to fix his hair for a second. He lets his hands drop to his sides, continues walking. At least it’s up, messy or not. Shouta wouldn’t have made it in with his normal scruff, so it had to do. He felt out of place. Cleaner, but still a smudge in a pristine place that was much too quiet.

He had the choice not to come, but it didn’t sit right with him. Guilt still sits heavy on his shoulders, for all of this. The summer camp, not being at All Might’s side to at least try to erase those quirks-- now this. The least he can do is visit, stop pushing the growing discomfort he has to the back of his chest, nestled to his spine. “Enji.” A little stiff, a little uncomfortable. He never thought he would see him laid so low, even if it’s in victory. “What does it look like to you?” He pulls a chair from the wall closer to the cot and lets his weight sink into it, elbows resting on his thighs as his fingers lace together. “You put yourself through the ICU and all. It’s not something I can just send a “Get Well” card for.”

#.greatestheroicfire

magicsp3lls

@dryceyed

Ivory teeth worry his lower lip as he closes the book he had been buried face-first into for the last few hours, lavender eyes closing as he tries to recollect the chapter he just finished. As much as he didn’t mind learning about the history of Pro Heroics, it seemed more daunting than it usually would have. His English homework can wait for now, however, because YŪGA is beginning to feel his hunger return in stabbing pains.

Exhaustion makes him yearn for the comfort of satin sheets and his down comforter, but he knows he won’t be able to rest on an empty stomach– or at least, that it was more detrimental to his health than was waiting a little longer so that he could have some time to eat.

He doesn’t anticipate his deadpanned, usually grumpy homeroom teacher as he rounds the corner at the end of his dormitory’s hall, not quite sure what he walked into for a few moments. Cold, pale hands sprawl curiously as he pushes himself away to see who he needed to apologize to, though the minute he realizes its his teacher, he gives him a hasty bow.

“Sensei!“ YŪGA addresses, smiling anxiously.

“I’m s-sorry! I should have looked where I was going… Let me get out of your way–“

dryceyed-a

It’s one thing for Aizawa to be up this late. His nights can easily span into the territory of 3 a.m. with certain coursework-- and he is regretting the decision he made to assign another essay a few weeks ago, but his students need it. Todoroki lacks formality in his writing, Midoriya has way too many citations without properly discussing any of them-- sometimes he can’t even understand the train of thought the kid’s mind goes on. Maybe he should ask Hizashi to-- His thoughts stop at the sudden impact against his chest, and looking down he sees.... Aoyama? His class should not be up this late. He watches the blond head bob anxiously in a bow, listens to the flustered stutter. Did the kid not know he had scheduled combat training early in the morning? At this rate, he’ll be exhausted before they even start. Aizawa starts to form some sort of scold in the back of his mouth, but hesitates. Something’s off. The anxious smile, his icy hands... “Aoyama, what are you still doing up?”

#.magicsp3lls

voxvictoria-blog

obviously the absolute best

#.voxvictoria #def the absolute best #.friend art

CHARACTER FLAWS

Bold the ones that apply to your character.

Italicize the ones that sort of apply. tagged by: @voxvictoria tagging: @greatestheroicfire, @ssix-shooter, @coldtempered, @frczenhate and anyone who sees this and wishes they had been tagged!

#.isms #.self

carciinus-blog

[ IT OCCURS TO ME I AM HUMANITY ]

selective // cancer of the zodiac hero agency // penned by wraith

#.selfpromo #it's me with a new boi

voxvictoria:

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH–!!” He belts out before immediately shuffling over.

There’s a soft chuckle from him before he cups Hizashi’s jaw in one hand and kisses his cheek. “I know.”

#.voxvictoria #.ic

It's starting to wind down for the evening when he gets a text from Charlotte that she wants him to look into the southwestern fence to make sure rabbits haven't dug under it. He's just about to ride off when he gestures for Shouta to come close. Once he's got a hold of him, he pulls him up into the saddle by the grip on his forearm and turns to place a quick kiss on his lips.

The night air is beginning to creep in. Shouta’s grateful for it as he fixes his hair up again-- gathering strands blown or torn loose while riding. It cools the sweat on his neck, which is more than welcome. He looks up from tying his hair to see Shiloh lower his phone and motion to him. Finishing twisting the tie, he starts on his way over.

Shiloh is the textbook image of a cowboy. The hat, spurs, plaid, belt-- the smile. Shouta finds it cute, endearing. He feels amusement bubble up, and then it turns to a fondness. Shiloh is his cowboy. The grip on his forearm is strong as he steps into the stirrup, and he’s kissing him before he can think about it too much. They break without much heat, just something short and sweet. Shouta pauses though, keeps his grip on him and kisses him again, slow and tender. When he breaks he’s smiling, readjusting Shiloh’s hat.“Don’t get hung up on the fence. Need you to come home to me fast, okay? I can’t get stuck playing Texas hold em’ with Clayton again.”

frczenhate

Girei

frczenhate

Guilt twists a knife in his heart looking at Aizawa’s bandaged fingers. He did that. He almost killed him, almost crushed him in a coffin of ice. It wouldn’t be a good death, full of splintered bones and blood. He brings his hands to his head and squeezes his eyes shut to try and dispel the image. He hadn’t done that. No, he just mangled his fingers with frost. Hm, was that any better? Leaving him alive to lament a failure of a student?

How are you holding up? A banal question, one reserved for any place that you don’t have to talk through bars. So, Shoto answers honestly, “Not much better than you it looks like,” it might be a joke, a bit of wit, but it doesn’t show in his voice.

dryceyed-a

Shouta watches his student’s gaze linger on his fingers. He can almost see the spiral of thoughts, the numb weight of accepting his actions, the near follow through. Dread jumps at his chest for a split second-- irrational-- because maybe he’s still thinking about doing it. Maybe he had wanted to kill him there, coldblooded. And then there’s guilt poorly washing the dread from him. He isn’t going to give up on him like that, he knows Todoroki better than that.

“I’ve certainly had better days,” he answers, frank. Shouta isn’t going to lie to make him feel better, isn’t going to try and play nice when he knows it’ll make it worse. “But--” He sits up straighter, lacing his fingers despite their protest. “I’m not the one in a cell, Shouto.”

Again, another pause. Aizawa wishes honestly didn’t make him sound so uncertain. “The... the guards, the warden-- they’re treating you well, right? If they’re antagonizing you...”

#villain verse.frczenhate

dryceyed-a

|| I’m home early from the tourney trip! So if I owe you a thread you’d like to continue, please like this post and I’ll get on those ||

#.ooc #.tbd #.psa

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