BNHA Timeline

OVA: it's about Nagito and what's essentially an Izuru adjacent AI. ...oh also Fuyuhiko is th-

Me: OH BOY CONTENT

i love my tavs but also i think they should kiss

Here’s a little Art Tip about a very specific part of the body. Pop a squat and see how it looks on you.

Sometimes you just need to spice up daily life in a killing game yknow

Conclusion:

Oumota Week 2023

Day 7: constellations

What is a Hero’s Cape for?

This meta is in response to a comment by @k-isecchis​

I’d also like to point out the parallels between Eri and Shigaraki. Eri was left to suffer longer due to strategy. Something that always rubbed me the wrong way about that arc is that besides Mirio and Deku, everyone’s so desperately trying to save her because they knew that was Chisaki’s trump card. Eri’s power is as potentially as destructive as Shigaraki, but she was “lucky” Chisaki was making enough waves for the heroes to notice. 

Thank you for pointing out this excellent parallel. This opened my mind to the parallels between the war arc, and the overhaul arc. How both arcs are really about showcasing how massive the divide is between the ideals of hero society “saving people” and hero society’s pragmatic realization “defeating villains”. Once again let’s talk more about hero society underneath the cut.

Keep reading

peeves me off a little when some people say "miu and kokichi could be such good friends, i wish they weren't so toxic in canon!"

.......but they are friends? not in the most obvious conventional way, but still. friends.

i mean, miu actually built his blueprints and vented to him before the events of chapter 4. not only that, but kokichi had faith in her skills as an inventor, genuinely listened to her vent (though he also may have realized she was planning to kill him at that time but y'know) and plays into her degrading kink (i say kink, because, well. it is. how are the words "finally someone called me a cum dumpster" supposed to be read as distress??) without really scaring her (note that being shouted at scares her, something he rarely does)

(also also. miu was heavily, heavily reluctant on killing him. and i doubt kokichi was feeling good about orchestrating her murder, too.)

they don't hate each other. they're just assholes who bond like assholes (who care about each other at least a little, but won't admit it)

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.”

Ngl at this point I should probably say this blog was mostly made so I could show you my vast collection of Valentine sketches lmao

"dont die" is my favorite thing to tell people when they say theyre gonna go do something. going to the store? dont die. going to the bathroom? don't die. going to Mars? don't die. going to write an email? don't die. driving to the gas station? don't die. it fits every situation except for maybe a funeral visitation because then i think thatd be a little bit rude