#The blorbo from my mind!!

[abd-illustrates]

💛 Training Gear 💛

Some alt fit concepts I doodled for the Heartless Crew a while back and forgot to post! Very rough ideas for what I imagine they might wear to train / work out , plus a couple more fashion-forward fits for the gals. ✌️✨

[DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES / ACCOUNTS] ♻️reblogs are lovely tho!♻️

[boredomstrides]

And here’s some more Takemi I’m writing on the fly, because I’m insane and in love with this character.

TRAIT: SCORCHED

-2 to all Willpower-based rolls against Black ICs and BTLs

Y’know, sometimes, when I’m alone in my apartment, makeshift Matrix blockers giving me some peace and quiet, I can hear her. She is... was my best friend. I only knew her by her avatar and her gametag, but she was the best friend I’d ever had in the Arcology. Of course, after that place went to hell, and I got evac’d by some Runners, the first thing I did was make sure she knew I was ok.

Then the Crash happened, and we were both stuck. We assumed at first that it’d take maybe a day or two, a week at most, before we would be let out of the Matrix. So we went clubbing, and we continued playing the same old shooters and MMOs we’d usually play before the Crash. And then... God, I don’t know if it was me or her who had the idea anymore, but we decided to try and gain admin access into the news forum, see if there was any information about when we’ll be getting out. It must have been months since the Crash started. We had to go through a lot of backdoors and shell servers to get where we were going. We didn’t even intrude yet, but some rampant Black IC found us. Must’ve just been assuming everyone was an intruder, just Hard-Crashing anyone it saw. She... she threw herself in front of it, to give me enough time to run. I kind of just assumed, y’know, she was fine, maybe it booted her back into reality or whatever, but... I knew it then. I would’ve just let that thing strike me down if I thought she was ok.

After I got out, it took me a few months, looking through old directories and MeFeed accounts, before I found her. She’s fully comatose. The doctors say she’ll never wake up. I didn’t care, I took out all the money my parents gave me to go to an apprenticeship with Renraku and spent it all on making sure the doctors don’t pull the plug. The Corpos will figure out a way to get her out; they’ve got too many people still trapped in Matrix 1.0 to not be figuring out a way to wake up their staff.

Until then, the sound of that Black IC ripping apart her code will haunt me. Maybe she’s waiting for me, in the Dissonance... I can’t be thinking like that. Not now, anyways. Best I can do is remember her by.

[caemidraws]

Oath/breaking

[temunitu]

reblogs appreciated. feel free to talk about yours in tags. doesn’t have to be tmnt related, this is just my blog with the biggest following.

edit: if you hit the nuance button you’d better explain what the nuance is

[starry-bi-sky]

yall ever think Shen Yuan went through like, internet withdrawal after being transmigrated into Shen Qingqiu? Like, he's canonically a NEET shut-in who did nothing but spend his time online, you can't tell me that for the first week or first few weeks of being SQQ he wasn't twitchy.

Like, reaching instinctively to his pockets for a phone that wasn't there, having an obsessive itch in the back of his mind that he should check and see if X or Y novel or webcomic has updated -- only to realize he can't anymore and being irritated by it. Wanting to go and see if there's new posts about this or that, but again realizing that he can't.

When he's bored or uncomfortable or just feels like wanting to escape he tries to go for his phone to distract himself, but oops! Not there anymore, and now he has to find a new and different way to distract himself from his feelings. And going through system notifications, quests, etc only does so much.

And there's that Tetris Effect too. SQQ makes a mistake while writing and instinctively goes to backspace on it except hey-ho that's not a keyboard and now he just dipped his pinkie into a bottle of ink or on a still-drying letter.

With him scrambling to fix his reputation and learn how to be a peak lord, I think his abrupt cold-turkey from all things internet would just be another straw on the camel's back that he promptly Ignores until it goes away on its own after he acclimates to his new surroundings.

[horreurscopes]

i like my body when it is with your body.

[c-rowlesblogs]

the last time I made a post about a character type I really like it went well, so here's another one: I love a character who is a piece of shit loser.

Let me explain: a very specific kind of piece of shit loser. This is a character who is almost never (at least not at first) a major protagonist or a major villain. They might be a mercenary or thief or black-hat hacker or in some other sort of antisocial "bad guy" line of work. They are some sort of henchman, or at least have strong henchman energy: dangerous and/or talented in specific skills perhaps, but also, importantly, undeniably a loser. Their personality sucks. They're uncharismatic and unpleasant. The heroes interact with them only when they must-- and this character deliberately cranks up the cynicism around especially sunny or optimistic heroes. They know the world is a cold, hard place, and the only thing they trust is cold, hard cash (if they're even getting paid for this shit). Things like "hope" and "friendship" are for suckers.

Until... somehow, some incident or confrontation or compounding sequence of events puts a crack in their armor. It's a crack where the light can get in-- and also, alarmingly (to others and to them), shine out. It turns out this piece of shit loser had a little spark of goodness buried deep inside all along, and no matter how much they dig in their heels and insist they don't care, their conscience is steadily pulling them over to the "good" side, and it's winning. And the heroes know it, too: this character might still be a piece of shit loser, but now they're their piece of shit loser, and there's no going back.

[arom-antix]

I bring to thee some quick late night Viktuuri sketches because I think we could all use some fluff

[fave-fix]

hey guys do we realize that the main difference betwen how kai and midori developed is that kai was given the chance to learn what normal life and love and family was like by working with chidouins while midori was kept under asunaros thumb all his life. do we realize that just a few changes could have kai acting just as cruel and merciless as midori. do we realize that midori is a victim of asunaro too, and though that doesn't excuse his actions it does make them more tragic. do we realize this or are we all being serious when we say midori is the only character who isn't worth redemption.

[sorikufeels]

i’ve seen people complain about how square keeps making sora more dumb and i get that and agree sometimes because i do think that there are some moments where sora is definitely smarter than depicted. however, i sometimes i think it fits and its not because he is actually dumb but because he’s had his mind messed with a lot. and it was messed with during his formative years. in later games, sora is often forgetful, asking what other characters consider to be dumb questions, and shown being slow on the uptake. these things make sense when you consider that:

a) sora’s had his memories scattered and rearranged

b) had an entire year of his adolescence (an important time for brain development) forfeited to a coma in order to fix said scattered memories

c) has been manipulated and the victim of mind games multiple times

d) incurred heaping amounts of trauma in a very short amount of time

don’t get me wrong, i feel like sora is definitely smart in his own way and deserves to have more moments to shine in that regard, but when there’s moments where he forgets things or isn’t able to connect the dots as quickly as everyone else, it makes sense to me. it feels logical, understandable. when those moments happen and other characters make fun of him, i’m always like this kid’s brain has gone through hell and back, it’s a miracle it’s still functioning at all so give him some slack for fucks sake!

he’s still missing memories and it seems like he’s lost more in kh3 (if we’re assuming he forgot about riku’s sacrifice and the realizations he had regarding riku as the light) and might continue to keep losing them in kh4. his mind has suffered a lot and i wish the other characters would be more understanding. but for me, when i see him acting “dumb,” it doesn’t always feel out of character given what he’s gone through. he’s not dumb, his mind has just endured a lot and it makes sense that there are lasting effects from those events.

i have no idea if this is intentional, though lol if it’s not, then square, stop making him so dumb because he’s way smarter than that and you know it.

but if it is intentional, then i love it because it gives me so much satisfaction when events have tangible lasting effects, especially in ways that aren’t outright stated. it would also be cool if this was intentionally supposed to be a factor in sora’s self worth arc. because of his perceived increase of “dumbness,” other characters make fun of him more, making him feel worthless and wrecking his self esteem even further. it’s not his fault he’s having a hard time but he doesn’t understand why it’s happening and it’s another thing for people to shit on him for and eventually he’s going to snap or break under the pressure from all that shit. if this or something like it is the intended outcome, i think that would sick

[zondearts]

Felis and Agnes

[ricciardo133]

July 2018

maxiel, Daniel genderswap, pining, drunken hook-up alluded to

-

Max wakes up slowly, feeling a girl cling to his side in the hotel bed. He can't remember Daniel and him inviting girls over to their shared room to unwind after Silverstone, but they did drink an inadvisable amount. Daniel had drank some noxiously sweet wine that some fan had gifted him. Idiotic, Max had thought. Max stuck to gin, a drink that normally doesn't leave him feeling this discombobulated. He feels wrecked, sore, and achy. He doesn't even feel ready to open his eyes.

The woman beside him stretches and sighs. "Rough night, eh, Maxy?" she says in a familiar Australian lit.

They both freeze.

Max sits up, slapping around the hotel lamp until he finds the switch. He stares wide-eyed at the woman lying beside him, her mass of dark curls against tan skin. Her wide, familiar eyes with that distinctive nose set between. Her hands are flung over her mouth, but Max can still see the right tattoos in the right places, only against different curves.

He glances down at perky, bare tits and soft, wide hips, and then back up in embarrassed shock.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah."

"You're a girl."

"So I've noticed."

Max gets up, starkly aware of his own nudity. He fumbles in the morning light for clothes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants.

He's still quite himself, but the hickeys are new. He didn't know his face could feel this hot. He mentally feels memories from last night brush against his psyche in frustratingly fleeting snippets. Biting down on soft thighs. Warmth and tightness. Hard nipples in his mouth. God, he thinks, we finally did it and I can't fucking remember shit.

He looks back, seeing Daniel is gone. He panics and hustles to the bathroom where not-Daniel-but-still-Daniel stands and assess his body.

"Wow, kinda thought girl-me would have a bigger rack."

"You're taking this well."

"Well, obviously, we're dreaming."

"Hm."

Daniel twists in his spot, watching his reflection as he gives his ass a smack. Max is immediately hard.

"Daniel."

"Max," he echoes with faux shock. "Relax, this is, like, a seriously vivid dream. A horny one at that. I think we boned last night."

Max can't utter a word. He just watches as Daniel feels up his own body, smaller hands drifting over smooth skin. His nails skate along his thigh's tattoos, upwards to drift along fine hair between his legs. Max squirms and feels anything but asleep.

"So real," Daniel whispers.

"Can you maybe put something on?" Max begs. Daniel cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Max feels unnerved seeing his expressions in a feminine font. Daniel's refreshing confidence always made Max feel... too much. Like if he wasn't careful, he could spill over with it all. Watching Daniel now fondle his chest, pressing the small mounds together as he assessed himself in the mirror, Max felt ready to burst.

And they fucked. He turns and heads out to the hotel room.

Life is cruel and this dream sucks and he wishes he could remember.

"Hey, Max, hey," Daniel soothes, coming up behind him and blessedly covered in a hotel towel. "I seriously think this can't be real. Just like...what's that DiCaprio film?"

"Huh? Inception?"

"Yeah, that one. Just a really, really good...weird dream."

"Okay, then hit me." Max walks up to Daniel. He's not used to being this much taller. He feels dizzy again with need, wanting nothing more than to pin the older Aussie down on the bed. To hike his soft yet strong legs over his shoulders. Maybe it'd be fine if they did it again, since it maybe is an impossible dream and Daniel's not a boy right now. Not that it mattered normally. Max didn't care, he just wanted to feel him all over again.

"What?" Daniel smiles, eyebrows knit in confusion.

"In dreams, that's how you wake up. Like, a kick to jolt you awake, right?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, we should wake up."

Max leans closer and turns his cheek.

"I'm not smacking you, Max. Here," Daniel takes Max's hand in his. All Max wants was to knit their fingers together, to feel the way his palm is finally bigger than Daniel's. "We'll do it to ourselves, okay?"

Daniel places Max's hand against his own cheek. He watches the gorgeous woman in front of him mirrors him, hand raised gently, fingertips against the curls that fall so, so long down to the middle of Daniel's back. He'd look so good with hair like that even as a boy. Max thinks to tell him this and stops himself.

"On three, yeah?"

"Okay."

Daniel counts down, in that singsong voice that's his but not his pitch. Max tries to commit it to memory as he gives himself a just-too-painful slap.

And nothing changes. The only thing that changes is now Daniel panics.

"Holy fucking shit, Max."

"Daniel-"

"This is real."

"We'll fix this," Max tries as Daniel starts tearing apart the hotel room. Max glances at the clock on the nightstand while Daniel goes on a heated search for something. "We don't have to leave for the flight for two hours."

Christ. He pictures telling their team anything. Daniel can still race, of course, Max thinks. He'll just need a new suit that fits better. And some adjustments to the car's seat fit. And a good PR statement that, yes, something impossible happened overnight but no worries we'll be set for Hockenheim so don't worry about how this happened.

"This!" Daniel says, leaping up to Max and putting a small card in his hand. "This is why! Read it. It came with the wine that hot girl gave me."

Max rolls his eyes and reads it. He narrows his gaze. "A change, temporary, good for two? What's that mean?"

"Beats me, but read it again. Temporary." He sighs, letting his head knock back. Max stares at the line of hickeys down Daniel's thinner neck, too faint. "I do kinda miss my dick."

"How does it feel?" Max asks despite himself. "To be a girl?"

"Good, I guess." Does Daniel press his thighs together reflexively, Max wonders. He feels pent up and horny again. "Like, I don't mind it, but it'll be hell to buy a whole new wardrobe," he attempts to joke through shaky laughs.

"Maybe that note meant 'two' like in two times," Max says, voice quiet.

All he can hear for a moment is the whirl of the hotel aircon. He watches Daniel's feminine frame, his big eyes and wet lips.

"Can you remember any of it?" Daniel asks, voice barely registering above the whirl.

"Not much."

"And it kinda doesn't count, right? Because I'm not really me right now, so its okay? And you don't mind?"

It can count, Max wants to beg. It can. It can be okay after, too. It can be okay all the time.

"I don't mind. You're hot as a girl." The last three words feel too final. Daniel's shoulders fall as he nods.

"Yeah, a stunner, huh? So, well, we'll take her for one last ride."

Finally, Daniel walks up and pushes Max onto the hotel bed. Max's mind reels as Daniel lets the towel drop. Two breasts in Max's face as he feels thighs straddle his waist. His hands fly up to trace eager lines up Daniel's spine and rake gentle tracks back down with his nails. They both shudder.

"Last time, right?" Daniel says between kisses down Max's neck. Max feels his eyes water. It doesn't have to be. But he doesn't say anything. He flips Daniel over on the bed, body tenting over the smaller frame. And this time, he focuses. He wants to make Daniel feel good. He wants to come inside. He wants to etch every moment deep in his mind, so he'll remember every gasp, every touch, every sigh.

[boredomstrides]

Ok, so here’s some more Takemi Moore, because they are spinning in my brain at a thousand rotations per second.

Security Cam #521-3, 2070, Midday

 Person Identified. Mid 20s, Overweight, Black Hair, Traits indicate three possible SINs. Takemi Moore, Milly Tae, Laineey Ngo. Result: 92% probability Milly Tae. Individual begins using spray paint on wall of apartment complex C-142. Man identified as Lenny Henson, owner of apartment complex C-142, approaches Mx. Tae. Transcription below.

 Henson: So, what’s it supposed to mean?

Tae: Huh?

Henson: The graffiti? Lotsa eyes an’ everything. Let me guess, a critique on the surveillance state?

Tae: Uhhh… yeah, let’s go with that!

Henson: Y’know, you could just tag your streetname everywhere instead of taking all the effort to make this. It’ll be gone by next week.

Tae: I mean, I guess, but that’s boring. Besides, only nicknames I’ve got have bad memories attached or are some username from some game I was obsessed with back in the arcology.

Henson: Yeah, yeah, so when are you paying rent?

Tae: Depends. When are you giving me some work to do? And don’t you dare give me another job about some dipshit office drone going to the most suspicious parts of the Matrix for some porn and catching a million viruses.

Henson: What, you think this old man still knows anyone with skin in the game?

Tae: I don’t know, Old Man, do you?

Silence for approximately 10 seconds. Both identified individuals begin laughing.

Henson: Believe it or not, you little shit, I do know someone who could use a hacker on their crew!

Tae: Alright. And this is a proper Run this time, right?

Henson: Yeah, yeah, and don’t worry, I ain’t giving you a suicide mission. Yet. Just remember to keep your head down, yeah? I’m not helping you if the cops come marching in.

Tae: Old Man, I’m not stupid! In and out, easy! Nothing I… can’t……

Tae begins staring off into space, looking off as though someone else is talking to them. Henson snaps their fingers until Tae returns to form.

Henson: Hey! Are you listening to me?! Hey, kid!

Tae: …Huh?

Henson: You can’t be doing that either! Drift off like that, and it’ll cost a Runner their life!

Tae: Yeah, sorry. Just, send me the address, alright? I’ll get my shit sorted out before I go in.

 *******///////////////****/??????>>>>>>>{{{{}{}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}} ERROR{}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}} ERROR/////////////////////*********************************

 A trap waiting to be sprung, my Courier finds the recording.

“Thank you, Courier. Hang on a moment, you have one more task to complete.” The bird of inky black watches curiously, as I take the strand of recording into my hands. My fingers are knives, made to cut the finest of data into nothing, and so I splice the recording, and rip away any audio. I’ll need to add some idiosyncrasies to my SIN, make it look false enough that any recording software automatically goes to a false SIN. For now, though…

“Put this back in, exactly where you cut the original file from. You can decompile from there. Thank you.” The beast stares at me for a moment, malforming itself around the new recording and nodding, before flying back to that little node of reasoning in this miasma of missed calls and worthless data. It… what was the term one of those folks on the forum used? I can only assume that this is resonance, but it feels wrong. Building up like a cancer does. To perceive it as anything more than an endless bog of tar would drive me insane… More insane than I am.

Don’t have time to worry about any of this. A few hours until I meet up with this crew. And I need to figure out a street name. And if I should gray out this hoodie or put a design on it. And goddamn if this fucking headache would stop buzzing in my ears!

 -------------------------------------------------------

-------------------------------------------------------

Security Cam #521-3, 2070, Midday

 Person Identified. Mid 20s, Overweight, Black Hair. Traits indicate two possible SINs. Milly Tae, Laineey Ngo. Result: 98% probability Milly Tae. Individual begins using spray paint on wall of apartment complex C-142.

Person Identified. Owner of apartment complex C-142, Lenny Henson, passes by. Uncharacteristic lack of investigation noted.

END LOG.

[rose-matcha-latte]

finally got babygirl in my durge run and i cant wait to see how we fall in love

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Can an OC be a Blorbo, or must all Blorbos come from an established IP?

[ping-ski]

pahinga ka na, JJ (CW: VENT POST)

i finally found the courage to write to you, i'm sorry it took so long.

(feel free to ignore the note under the cut)

We weren't perfect, I know that.

I was and still am your crybaby older sibling.  Your “Ate”.

You'd be 18 by now. Isn't that terrible?

Every so often, I dream that you came home that day and that nothing had changed.

I still wish I thanked you for every time you protected or stood up for me, even if it was in vain. We both know that woman never cared.

Honestly, I was angry at first. Angry, you left me behind to survive alone. Angry, that you got an “easy out” and I was stuck with her cruelty. My anger fizzled out pretty quick and for so long I was numb or believed it was my fault for not being able to do the impossible. I couldn't come to an answer that wasn't my fault for not being able to miraculously save you. I don't blame myself much anymore though. I'm meant to be here, even if I don't know the reason.

You'd probably tell me to let it go, but I wish we had played one last game together like you wanted instead of arguing the night before.

You wouldn't know, but that morning I really was working on my apology. I was finding the courage to tell you that I was wrong. And I was. I'm so sorry.

Running away wasn't anything like we imagined as kids. I didn't have a cool plan drawn in crayon. It wasn't even a good one. I had to leave everything behind and never look back.

I'm not sure if you'd recognize me now. I've grown to be more patient and more empathetic. I think holding your cold hands humbled me. Though, you'd be more proud to know I finally have a sense of humor or maybe I stole it from you? Who knows.

I'm trying to live for the both of us, even if it took me 7 years to decide that. I hope you know I still miss you and always will. I hope you miss me too.