#djsoul

[eraserisms]

Shota isn't just the King of the Underground. He is the King of Contingency Plans. Eraserhead's plans have plans. It's the logical thing to do, even when it isn't hero orientated or something detrimental.

Some examples? Sure.

Planning a hiking date and it's just too hot? Shota has museum tickets.

Going to the park with Eri but it starts raining? They're going anyway and splashing in puddles, measuring it and/or making rain art.

Lesson plans fall through? The man has 50 different packets at the ready.

Sleeping through his phone alarm? He has a physical one that vibrates the bed when it goes off. Alternatively, Hizashi works as a great one. As seen here (Thanks @djsouled because I've been listening to this for like 4 days)

[keshimasu]

He's dead asleep when the doctor wakes him. It remains instinct to swat away away the hand like his mother is trying to shake him awake late for school. Shouta can't remember the last time she did that-god does she even know or care that he's missing or is he listed as dead-and though they hadn't parted on great terms, she'd never fisted a hand in his hair and yanked him to his feet. The coward is too short to actually do the job, a 'real' nomu has to do it. It's still one of the kinder ways his day starts.

Shouta's dragging fatigue twists to a flash of fury at the indignation at being shoved out of his relatively nice dark room into light that makes his headache rear. He knows better, but he's tired and everything hurts down to the bone and he just wants to hit something. Hard. He's not opposed to losing a few strands or dislocating a shoulder to vent that anger. A punch is too short range for the situation. His foot connects solidly with Garaki's back, making a satisfying thud of boot on bone.

The fact that he falls sputtering on his face is just extra. In Shouta's sleep deprived state, it's hilarious. Even if he can't laugh, the painful rasping sound just doesn't have the same effect, he can grin. A moment of successful autonomy is worth being held up by his hair as legs cave to what very well could be molten steel in his veins. How that little trick is pulled off, whether it's quirk or remote activated, he doesn't know. It doesn't matter.

Breath wheezes out of his lungs as nomu hauls him down the hall, too many nerves and muscles misfiring to coordinate body enough to trudge under his own power. Humiliating but still not the worst. No worse than feeling eyes that were not his own open to send heroes crashing to the ground or spending days bound to a table trying to fight off invading genes like an infection.

His eyes - the real ones the real ones the real

Don't open don't open keep them closed they're not his none of this is his him anymore

His eyes, only two, still burn too much to open yet all of them squeeze shut. If it was a job he would’ve been given the details before which means it’s something else. Maybe he’s displeased the master again and they’d had this conversation before so clearly Shouta hadn’t been paying enough attention the first time. He never was a great student.

A door shuts, when did they get to another room where is he, and an eye on his hand catches a glimpse of a chair and table. Both are standard metal, bolted to the floor. He doesn’t have time to process more before large arm finally lets go of his hair in favor of firmly planting him in the seat. It rams his forehead into the table, which he now notices is slightly lower than normal and makes his neck bend uncomfortably, but the message is clear. Don’t move.

Heart pounds so loud in his ears he almost misses the nomu leaving. But it’s not a normal set up, there aren’t even any restraints and the doctor is tying his hair up with the hands of a man who’s never even done a ponytail. If he wanted, there’s an eye on shoulder blade that would have a clear view with how loose black fabric pools around hunched shoulders. He’s never wanted to see Garaki work and knowing what was coming wouldn’t change anything.

For all his nerves, Shouta doesn’t flinch at cool alcohol at the junction where neck becomes back. He doesn’t flinch at the sharp jab of a needle or excruciatingly slow scalpel through skin muscle no fat to bone. His hands shake and he blames it on the chill in his veins. Sensation pricks painfully like pins around the open wound but there’s no rush of blood. His infuriatingly sluggish brain takes several moments to connect the dots. There’s no way in hell they trust him enough to remove the implant in his spine serving as a bean sized shock collar. Replacement maybe or upgrade.

The table is blissfully cold on his rapidly overheating skin. It would be better if he just passed out now but he’s never been that lucky. He forces an unsteady breath in through his nose and clamps jaw against rising anxious nausea. One set of footsteps is replaced with another this one heavier like someone wearing those dumb thick platform boots. Eye on his wrist peeks at leather pants. He wishes he could hide face under mountains of dark hair for some semblance of anonymity. Not exposed pulled open under harsh fluorescents. The tie snaps to unseen pressure and black falls over his head. If only he could telekinetically fling the stranger into the wall.

- @djsouled

[rratedhero]

@djsouled MISS LADYYYYYYY!!

" did you miss me? I bet you did~"

[itsumoegao]

📗 "Are.... are you going to make me your personal assistant if you get 10?" Come to think of it, that didn't sound so bad, working with another pro!

[huntershowl-moving]

" it's no surprise to me, i'm my own worst enemy. "

❝ YOU ALWAYS WERE. too excited for your own good. too forgiving. always burning the candle at both ends for everybody else. ❞

it was seeing hizashi that broke her. shouta has been a thorn in her side, a memory that won't scrub out, ever since she made the mistake of coming back to japan. this time, when they crossed paths ( when did he become so good at guessing her movement patterns? ), he wasn't playing around. it was an ambush to bring hizashi, and he knows it.

she was never going to fight them; she was never going to hurt them. the remnants of the dead thing in her chest won't allow it. so here they sit in a prison cell, waiting for fletch to take their sweet time to get her out — they'll let her rot for a while, as a punishment for making the stupid choices that led her here. but eventually, they'll pull the right strings. there won't be a damn thing either of her former friends can do about it.

as long as they're here, there's nothing they can do. they stopped tugging at the restraints a long time ago. here, in the harsh light of the cell and out of the city-darkness, hellhound looks a hell of a lot like their old friend. until you lock eyes with her, and you see that ever-burning rage, and the anguish underneath. she knows this. it twists up her throat with a knot of shame.

a pause, a suspicious narrowing of the eyes. ❝ what are you doing here, yamada? what do you want? you want me to keep listing your flaws? you need a fucking reminder? ❞

[dynmghts]

“ not all your life decisions have to be smart. some can be purely for cinematic value. swag is earned, not learned. ”

❛ i hate that that makes sense. ❜

but that then bears the question: what life decision could he possibly make that would be more for the cinematic value over inherent smarts?

... does throwing hands with a bunch of villains count as a not-smart cinematic-value winning life decision? [ suddenly, it's a shame nobody got to see the extent of it except for them. ] ❛ wait- what in the fuck's been your decision that's been for the fuckin' drama or whatever the hell? ❜

@djsouled / more unhinged comedic relief.

[truly-quirkless]

@djsouled asked:

“ DON’T WANNA LIVE AS AN UNTOLD STORY — c’mon guys sing with me!! — RATHER GO OUT in a BLAZE of GLORY! “

[Drunk (at the) Mic Night. (Prompted.) || Accepting!]

"I DON'T FEAR YOU, I CAN'T HEAAAAAAR YOU NOW-OW-OW~!"

"...I...I'm good." He's a little busy recording the two drunks trying to sing. Will he use it as blackmail?...only time will tell.

[truly-quirkless]

@djsouled

Guys. Guys. We all know about the Present Mic persona and how Hizashi Yamada hides behind it. Guys.

He goes to his friend's grave as himself

[gravesung-moving]

[ sms ] hey buddy! whaddya say about a park visit one of these days? i found this ADORABLE little... i dunno, nook of a garden? [ sms ] let's crack a beer and catch up yo! ( to orion <3 )

[ SMS: (il)legally blonde ] oh shit?? [ SMS: (il)legally blonde ] i haven't been outside in three days so that sounds nice [ SMS: (il)legally blonde ] let's do it bud! got a thing to show you anyway (good thing) [ SMS: (il)legally blonde ] what's ya sched like again?

[eraserisms]

For someone who is basically a cat a handful of Shota's companions are very bird coded

[keshimasu]

[ sms ] i'll be home a little later tonight. i'll pick something up for breakfast on the way back. [ sms ] hey. [ sms ] i love you, you know that?

[sms] be safe

[sms] i’m just grading, I’ll wait up for you

[sms] or I was attached: picture of a calico half curled up on his pile of papers

[sms] love you too sunshine

[mutherlessarch]

★★★★★

lesbian 2 lesbian communication

indeed it is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rratedhero]

" darling, you are my little (pogchamp!) " fingerguns and all.

"Me? your little pogchamp? Just because it's you, I'll expect it~ If anyone else calls me that, I might have to step on them."

[itsumoegao]

@djsouled

📗 Having his heart already settled on someone else, their identity hanging around his neck, Toga's persistent advances never bothered the Black Swan. Even as he mapped out the blueprint and progress of Lake Biwa with Toga nearly by his face watching, her elbows resting upon the desk, he didn't mind her presence. She soon switched positions, sitting upon the desk, legs swinging playfully as a phone rang.

"Which one is ringing?"

The blonde hummed, first checking her personal phone, silent, then switching over to a unique phone with a specific purpose. A smile. "Looks like someone wants to play with Miss Swany~"

The Swan watched the screen light a few times, threatening to stop at any moment as his pen did not move in hand. "Please answer it."

Happily, she did. "Hello~" She didn't even wait for a response. "If you have this number then you must want a match with Miss Swan right? What's your name?"

[grellsaw]

" you'll have to tell me the kind'a of product you use in your hair! the way it reflects the light, wow. "

❝ i could honestly make the same query at you. ❞ bereft of compliment to his slicked back style, rather, a subtle critique at his choice is hidden behind a sharp grin. head tilts slightly into cupped glove cradling her cheek, she studies his outward appearance in momentary silence. drawn out hum preludes her cordial response.

❝ long showers, satin pillows, and lots of highlighting. when you decide to throw away the hairspray, i'll share more secrets. ❞

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 ! ⸺ @djsouled

[keshimasu]

with mic settled in all of his leather and metal and peach, he'd initially expected the guy to go for hard liquor not fruity punch given his appearance, shouta multitasks. his gaze drifts around the bar noting body language of patrons, the door, that lightbulb near the bathroom that needs to be replaced. mic watching him all too closely without having had nearly enough alcohol to blame for sudden color change.

ever the non social butterfly, he turns away to rinse and reorganize glasses. finishes off the last of the peach cold and sweet on his tongue. if it's a slow night maybe he will turn in early. shouta chugs a canned coffee from the fridge to fight back a yawn. he hauls stool on wheels over and plops down back in front of the blonde to get off his feet. the counter was the perfect length for him to kick off one wall and coast to other end when his back was bothering him.

"pyrotechnics?" avoidance of any inquiry about himself, though he is genuinely curious. that sort of dramatic extra shit has never been his thing. nothing that drew extra attention. "did you not have a permit or were you planning on doing something else with those...special effects?" present mic is recognizable enough he probably couldn't do a normal non villain related performance if he wanted to. "not sure what you expected going around looking like that, someone was bound to notice you."

villain can't help the way how his mind and gaze just latch on to all the littlest mannerisms that aizawa cycled through mindlessly as they conversed. this man was so captivating it should've been illegal. black unkempt hair, peeking stubble, the range of his slouch depending on the severity of his exhaustion, the everything else. man. he felt a certain warmth to his cheeks blossom just thinking of it all, and decided to hide behind a huffed half-pout.

" you obviously do more than just work here, yo. how has business been? anything juicy besides the same ol' clock in, clock out? "

thins his lips, takes the slid-down specs completely off and folds them in front of the drink. " ugh, don't get me started! " another heavy sigh, " i had just started this little performance - and lemme tell you, i was just about to try out these new pyrotechnics i added to my speakers, and i couldn't even do that! some asshole hero went and destroyed one of the setup special effects before it could even go off. and in the end, i had to blow out his eardrum to knock him unconscious and run off into the night. (quite a shame, really.) "