#“i don't even know your name”

[swordoaths]

I know I have not been here, and I do apologize. <3 IRL things have really worn me down and made me hide in reading and fanfic writing where I can.

But I'm coming on here to say that I've been reading the ACOTAR series for the first time (yes, I know, I'm late and it IS odd I haven't read a fae book series but here we are), and I really just wanted to say that I was heavily invested in the Suriel to the point where I was like getting nudged to write here again and maybe even add the Suriel whom Feyre talks to....

And then chapter 60 of ACOWAR happened and I'm distraught.

[fernsnailz]

ma'am are you aware of the hold you have on furries and gay people everywhere

[starcurtain]

Hear me out. I know it's unlikely that Ratio would ever have been foolish enough to directly get taken in by a scam, but considering that we know:

One of the groups specifically tricked by Kakavasha before he joined the IPC was the Intelligentsia Guild

What he tricked them about was Tayzzyronth's Swarm remnants, the exact same thing we see Ratio investigating in his very first appearance in the game, and

The researchers were described as "extremely cautious"

I am surprised that "Ratio was at least somehow connected to the Intelligentsia Guild team fooled by Kakavasha before he was ever even a Stoneheart" isn't more popular with the Ratio and Aventurine fandom.

Like imagine being Dr. Ratio. You tell your colleagues, "This seems like a scam. Are you sure you should trust this 'local guide' you've made contact with? Tell me about him. A picture? Does this even look like an Egyhazan native to you? I won't save you fools from making idiotic decisions." (You end up having to clean up the aftermath of their idiotic decisions anyway. There is sand in places on your body you didn't even know existed before this. How mortifying for the Guild. For you, by association.)

Then, next thing you know, you get a mission briefing slid across your desk from your IPC connections. They want you to work with their new Stoneheart. You open the packet to see... that little bastard with the enthralling eyes who had your moronic colleagues scrambling in the dirt on a backwater planet for months. Apparently he's made a career out of fooling you your supposedly competent guildmates.

You run off to confront him. You never met him personally back then, but you deserve compensation for the idiocy you were subjected to nonetheless. He deserves to know how much of a pain in the ass he's been in your life already without ever having met your eyes--

He proceeds to shove a gun into your hands and tries to make you an accomplice to a suicide. Apparently, this is normal behavior for the man now called Aventurine. Somehow, it's supposed to prove to you that he is a sane and reliable individual.

Absolutely nothing in your life has been normal since Egyhazo.

You would like to have mundane problems, sometimes.

How do you keep ending up in this beautiful manic clever conman's orbit, and why, like binary stars, can you not escape the gravitational pull?

[demigods-posts]

i saw this post the other day about annabeth and how she doesn't have a birth certificate because she was never technically born. and that raises so many interesting questions. like, does she even legally exist? does she have a fake ID? i don't need sleep. i need answers.

[aro-aizawa]

i like to think everyone has a colour associated with them, whether its just your fave colour or what you generally wear most of or what colour your bedroom walls are. i always associate the name sophie with dark blue, my mum is always a nice turquoise, i like to think my colour is a bright sunflower yellow.

if you have a specific shade pls tell me i adore when ppl have associated colours and tell me them, bc i think of them when i see that colour

[swordsofsaturn]

early seasons spn homophobia is actually so crazy because they literally do not look gay. hamfisted gay jokes when the characters look straight as hell. "you look the type" they literally don't. is the thing

[i-wear-the-cheese]

Me approaching a random lesbian couple: so uh, which one of you is the dark religious fanatic and which is the brawny two-handed weapon fighter?

[murderandcoffee]

I think that alice and gwen should make out sloppy style

[chiropteracupola]

granby + iskierka + keynes

[canisalbus]

I'm sure you get this a lot but because my cousin and I love that one Danny Trejo action comedy, I always have to snap my brain into the right position when I read Machete's name. Maybe I should draw them both chilling

.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

the AU where Prime Torino time-travels to the Advent of Quirks era (a time period he did not study for) and picks up two street babies after recognizing one as a miniature AfO

context: Sorahiko's been in the past for less than year. He's been preventing AfO from picking up new Quirks for maybe two weeks, and has dropped off food for the twins a couple of times.

wc: ~1.1k

//

The children stared at Sorahiko with wary eyes, eerily alike for all that they differed in stature and eye color. He didn’t let himself move, save for a tip of his head. The bigger child, the one Sorahiko thought was a young All for One, mimicked him; the smaller boy said in a faltering voice, “Who are you?”

“Call me Torino,” he said. “How about you?”

The smaller boy bit his lip and gave his brother a nervous side-eye. Chibi-AFO ignored him; he only had an unblinking stare for Sorahiko, and truth be told, it was getting irritating. Don’t raise your voice, he heard Shimura chide. 

He sighed, then changed tack. “Did you like the food?” At the clear brightening of the smaller boy’s expression, Sorahiko lifted the plastic bag. The boys were younger than Kotarou, but he had vague memories of Shimura feeding her son soft foods before he turned a year old. Surely steamed vegetables and (slightly) overcooked rice was fine.

Chibi-AFO lurched forward without a sound, one hand outstretched, the other still holding tight to his brother’s wrist.

A curse slipped through Sorahiko’s filter; he dropped the bag and Jetted himself backwards, out of reach but not out of sight. The last thing he wanted was to be chased blindly by some murderous toddler.

The showing of his Quirk, however, sparked something in Chibi-AFO’s eyes. A different kind of hunger--one that apparently required both hands now, as he unceremoniously dropped his brother and doubled down on trying to grab Sorahiko. The smaller boy yelped as spikes burst from Chibi-AFO’s skin, and then showed an incredible lack of self-preservation by trying to intervene.

“No!” he cried. “No, don’t! He’s nice!”

Sorahiko dodged another lunge for his neck. Can I hit him now? he begged the Shimura on his shoulder. I’m justified in knocking him out for his own good, right? That’s how this works?

You can’t hit a baby! Shimura scolded. He doesn’t know any better!

Chibi-AFO, as if to refute Shimura’s sympathies, finally opened his mouth to screech, “GIVE!” He kept springing for Sorahiko with his tiny palms thrust outwards; the spikes on his body rushed unerringly for Sorahiko’s limbs. “GIVE IT!”

“Stop it! Stop!”

How much stamina could a toddler have? More importantly, how long did Sorahiko have until the civilians he’d ushered off the street rang the local police station? Sorahiko, out of sheer curiosity, started leading Chibi-AFO in a circle. It felt criminally easy to maintain a generous distance between himself and the toddler, even as Chibi-AFO grew more desperate and enraged at not having easy prey.

“IT’S MINE!” the toddler snarled, out of breath. “MINE! MINE!” 

Because Sorahiko wasn’t above taunting a baby, he upped the speed on his Jet. Chibi-AFO’s reliance on his spikes to propel him was the toddler’s downfall; as the chase continued, the production output and quality of the spikes diminished, until it was pure spite that powered Chibi-AFO’s bare feet.

The smaller boy had collapsed long ago by the food, gasping, but he seemed like he registered that Sorahiko wasn’t about to die, because he was now spectating with awe-struck eyes.

“Are you done?” said Sorahiko mildly, continuing to deny the toddler any hope of closing the gap. The boy’s face was getting redder, and scrunched-up, and then the funniest thing happened: Chibi-AFO tripped on his makeshift robe, face-planting into the asphalt.

Don’t laugh, Shimura said, in a long ago memory about Kotarou colliding into a glass door.

Chibi-AFO was trembling, every limb shaking. The smaller boy had shot up, renewed concern pushing him to his brother’s side and babbling something unintelligible. Sorahiko stifled the bark of laughter as Chibi-AFO gingerly lifted his head and goggled at the ground, like he couldn’t believe he’d fallen.

“Be nice,” the smaller boy pleaded, frantically patting Chibi-AFO’s shoulders. “Don’t, don’t, be nice.”

A tiny, minuscule drop of pity collected at the pit of his stomach. Sorahiko made the executive decision to sacrifice his cape, unpinning it from his suit and dropping the heavy fabric onto the boys before going to fetch the food. They startled at the sudden weight, but the smaller boy could only squeak and Chibi-AFO, thoroughly exhausted, could only twitch.

“Let’s try this again,” said Sorahiko dryly. He popped the plastic lids of the styrofoam containers and stuck spoons into two of them, situated both in front of the children, and took his own seat a full meter away. “I’m Torino. How’s the food?”

Huddled under his cape, the smaller boy looked bewilderedly from him to the food, and back again. “Um…!”

“Not hungry,” said Chibi-AFO.

“... Alright. You two have names?”

“No,” said Chibi-AFO, sullen. “Go ‘way.”

As tempting as it was, Sorahiko took a measured breath and let out a controlled exhale. “No. You’re hurting people being out here, and I can help you. Food, and a place to sleep. Do you understand me?”

The smaller boy fiddled with a handful of Sorahiko’s cape. Tentatively, he asked, “Safe?”

Chibi-AFO repeated, in the same tone as before, “No.”

At some point, Sorahiko thought, you really couldn’t justify letting a toddler steer the conversation. He considered his options, and responded to the smaller boy first. “Yes, it’s safe. I won’t hurt you, or him. I just can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

A small hum, and then: “Okay. We go.”

“No!” Chibi-AFO protested, and finally pushed himself up, wincing. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, but Sorahiko would place a bet that they were purely reflexive. “No, I’m safe! He’s bad! He hurt me!”

“You hurt you,” the smaller boy sniffed.

The murderous intent flashed on Chibi-AFO’s face again, and Sorahiko hastily stepped in before more blood was shed. He snapped his fingers in front of the toddler. A malformed spike, sloppy in execution and sluggish in timing, tried to pierce Sorahiko’s hand and dissipated before he could even recoil. Exhaustion! Finally! 

“Go ‘way,” the toddler demanded.

Sorahiko simply leaned his cheek against his fist, propping his elbow on his knee. Either Chibi-AFO would recover and try for a second time to steal Jet, or he would pass out. There wasn’t any point trying to reason with the brat.

The smaller boy patted Chibi-AFO’s shoulders, but he too went quiet. Eventually, Chibi-AFO slumped flat to the ground again, and his slurred orders dwindled to a faint burbling snore. That was Sorahiko’s cue to creak upright, crouch down, and ask the smaller boy in a serious tone, “Can I pick you up?”

The kid looked at the food.

“I have more at home.”

“... Okay,” he said softly, and in swift order, Sorahiko resituated his cape so it swaddled Chibi-AFO, took him up on one arm, and hoisted the smaller boy in his other arm. There was that squeak again, and a nervous clutching at his flight suit, but Sorahiko’s attention was on thinking about the route back to his apartment.

It would be easier on the kid’s nerves if he walked, but the Meta X gangs were too troublesome to bother with tonight.

“Hold tight,” Sorahiko muttered, and Jetted for the rooftops.

[cerise-on-top]

Hi, it's me again.

Valeria, Laswell, Price and Farah.

Thank you very much! I'll wait anxiously, and I'm sorry for getting so excited. <3

Hey! It's alright, but please remember my rules for the future! Also, I've never watched Arcane, I don't know Jinx in the slightest, I only really had your explanation to go off of, so sorry if it's not very good ^^;

Price, Valeria, Farah and Laswell with a Reader like Jinx (Arcane)

Price: He can read people fairly well, so you trying to hide something from him, regardless of what it could be, doesn’t evade him. He won’t force you to tell him whatever it is you’re hiding from him, but he likes to think of himself as a trustworthy person, telling you that you can just say whatever it is you wanna say. Even so, if you end up not telling him anything, then that’s alright as well, he won’t pry. As long as it doesn’t include anything that could change the course of a mission, of an important one, he’ll leave you be, for the most part. However, you liking to blow things up would concern him. Although you may not be the first person he’s met like this, with Soap being another person with an affinity for explosives, he would have his concerns. However, as long as you only hurt the enemy, he’s quite alright with you blowing things up, sometimes. There’s a fine line between an enemy KIA, and unnecessarily destroying your surroundings. Will give you an earful if you burn too many buildings, blow too many of them up. While he may be able to appreciate your abilities with technology, knowing fully well that some ingenuity is needed in that field, he hopes you won’t use your intelligence against him and his men. You’re more than welcome to use your contraptions against enemies, as long as they don’t harm your allies. You may be a very pretty person with your long, blue hair, but that doesn’t mean Price won’t be concerned with it. After all, it could get stuck somewhere and would need to be cut off. Don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous, but there’s a reason why people in the military tend to have shorter hair.

Valeria: She takes a liking to you immediately. You’re a threat, that much is obvious, with your interesting personality. It doesn’t particularly matter to her what you did in the past, as long as you take back your future and make the present count. Won’t bother you too much with questions regarding where you’ve been and what happened to you, she has other things to worry about. Your contraptions are of interest to her: Small things that can either walk to where they’re needed or stick to something. As long as you get out of their range of effectiveness soon enough, she’s willing to give you more materials to work with, as long as you work for her. Funds your shenanigans in general, as long as it benefits her and her cartel you’ll never run out of anything to work with. She’s not exactly a morally correct person, so you could commit literal war crimes under her watch and she wouldn’t mind. You wanna use dangerous gas to kill the enemy? Sure, go right ahead, it doesn’t matter to her since she doesn’t plan on being caught. You’ll likely get some special privileges over time as well. More quickly than other people, at the very least. While you may not look like how one would imagine someone working for the cartel would look, she certainly doesn’t mind, thinking you to be fairly pretty as well. If you need some nail polish, she can give you the best ones out there, no hesitation. Again, she’s taken a real liking to you and wants this work relationship to go well. However, you’re just about the only exception with that, Valeria doesn’t care too much about everyone else. But you stand out, so there’s that.

Farah: Although she may know that everything is fair in war, she will actively discourage you from using some of your contraptions. If it’s illegal, if it will make you and her look like war criminals, then she will not let you use it. Her country may be at war, but she’s got principles and still needs to show the world that Urzikstan is not a dangerous place. So yeah, you might not wanna use the worst of the worst when it comes to fighting around her. Other than that, she can appreciate your work, though, and what you have been doing for her. A well placed bomb can make all the difference, after all, especially when someone, who knows what they’re doing, is using it. As long as it isn’t too bad, you have her support. Don’t make yourself known, though, the wrong people might find out who you are and might have a field day with that. However, she might scold you for using unethical means of killing someone. Farah is very connected with her people, and thus knows a lot about each and every single one of them. She won’t pry either when it comes to your past, but she will gently ask about it occasionally when something seems to be bothering you. Again, she won’t force anything out of you, but will show that she does care a great deal about you. In her eyes, too, you are absolutely gorgeous. She’s not as strict with long hair as Price, for example. There are no regulations for that sort of thing in her liberation force. If you let her, and if you’re especially close, she might braid your hair as well. As mentioned previously, she does care about her people, and it’s with those small things that she shows she’s there for them.

Laswell: Oh, she would not like you very much at first. Her work is usually comprised of not being found out, you do the opposite with your trademark bombs. You’ll butt heads a lot at first, especially since Laswell tries to keep it quiet whenever she can. It would take a while for you to get along, largely since you both know what you want. However, you’re good with technology, she gives you that much. You can be used for all sorts of things regarding that. Make a small contraption that allows you to get inside a room without the need for a keycard, she can appreciate that and will congratulate you on making something useful that is quiet. It would take something like that for the both of you to slowly be getting along. Laswell doesn’t mind you having a sad past too much. If you really feel like it, and once you’ve grown close, you can talk about it. Get it off your chest if you really need it. Might either listen to you or give you some advice, it entirely depends on what you ask of her, or what it seems like you might need at the moment. Though, another reason why you might clash at first would be your appearance. You’re pretty, don’t get me wrong, but long blue hair isn’t exactly subtle, you’ll be found out fairly quickly, you’ll be recognised wherever you go. She won’t force you to dye your hair, but you likely won’t be going out in the field too much when a disguise is needed, something like that will be left to Laswell. You, however, can plant whatever it is that is needed nearby, make a distraction by blowing something up, for example.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

it's less us adopting you and more like a-yuan where you ran up to us in a busy marketplace (tumblr tags/dashboard) and latched onto our legs with vengeance and adopted us into your chaos (but like in a good way)

Mutually Assured Adoption. We will take to the town and cause havoc

[kookieroosins]

I love that it's just batman the animated series, if Bruce Wayne piloted a giant robot.

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.

[dnd-smash-pass-vs]

They're elves of the shadowfell, normal human height. They specialize in teleportation and invisibility, with the casters among them throwing in confusion and fear and illusion. Be careful though, as any trained in combat start making non-elves slower and worse while within 10 feet. From depression, from the sound of it. Their angst about being more ancient and timeless than you wordlessly attaches to you like a parasite, slowing you down. Good for if you enjoy concepts like-

Shadows, but like DARKER than shadow, that lash out when they're moody

looking beautiful unless in shadow, in which case they're corpselike

ignoring pointless things like "comfort" and "morals" and "rules"

being the chosen of the Raven Queen, and on her behalf collecting dark tragedy, sorrow, and feelings of loss.

being corpse pale with jet black hair, pure black eyes, and covered with tattoos/piercings/anything that would make a generic white suburban mom in the 50's scream in terror.

Lumping them all together because they're all the same outside one having mage hand and such. Idc what weapon they're holding.