#the admirer by terrified

[def-not-kaz-brekker]

controversial opinion but inej ghafa is literally terrifying and (obviously) such a queen.

like she literally held a stadwatch guard at knifepoint after creeping up on him and whispered (I don’t remember the exact quote) “I like it when men beg, but nows not the time” like??? Queen?????

And the end of the crooked kingdom where she cuts pekka rollins after threatening him, and switched alby’s toy lion with a crow?? Fucking terrifying?????

My love for inej knows no bounds and she is undeniably a powerful and scary woman

[mswyrr]

[skkpaws]

the new 15! chapter today was shorter than most but the yearning doesn’t stop!

[veryaren]

here.... Take this bwforei go..... (To bed)

[doomed-jester]

If I've taken away anything from the Quinton Reviews situation, it's to never reach out to people I admire because they'll publicly shame me for being weird and awkward

[221bshrlocked]

[soloquel]

you're asked at the dinner table what your favorite marine animal is and you say, "i don't know, dolphins maybe?" and levi just bolts out of his seat and leaves the room so quickly you need five seconds to process that, and by the time you do, he's back with an entire power point presentation which he projects onto the wall so that he can teach your uneducated, naive ass about WHY you should pick ANY animal in the ocean EXCEPT those damn fucking traitors. and you're gonna listen.

[poisoned-pearls]

What if in first year au they were play fighting and tickling each other but then they broke something (I NEED THEM TO BE CHAOTIC FIRST YEARS PLS)

“Jamil, hey- stop it! Hey- it’s not funny-!” Azul wheezed out, laughs making his words far less effective at trying to actually get Jamil to stop tickling him, “please!- come onnnn- have mercy!”

He did decide to have mercy on him, ceasing his movements for a moment, which was a poor decision on Jamil’s part, because Azul took the opportunity to push him onto his side instead.

Both of them continued to play-fight, abusing Azul’s brand new housewarden room privileges for all it was worth.

Which includes the many, many sleepovers. Really, Azul would love to stay over at Scarabia, but as he had learned, Jamil’s roommates did not like him that much. Jamil had said it was because they seemed jealous of the fact that Jamil had gotten a boyfriend faster than anyone had ever expected, but Azul couldn’t believe that was the only reason. He’d seen how they’d watched him in class… he had his theories. (So did the twins, but they’d always been more wild with their ideas)

”I cant believe you- betrayal of the highest order.” Jamil deadpanned at him, not making much of an effort to sit back up, but gladly pulling Azul down on top of him.

“you’re the one who pulled out the tickling card. I can’t believe you. I didn’t even know that was a thing!”

“What, you don’t have tickling underwater?” Jamil questioned, turning his head towards the Oceanside window.

“No! You land-dwellers are so weird.” Azul finished, sitting up on the side of his bed, “I can’t believe half of the things you guys say.”

Jamil shoved him, playful and noncommittal. “Really? Like what?”

“Like gym! One of your whole class periods is taken up by torture??” He laughed out, exasperated.

“Gym is not ‘torture’, Azul.”

“Yes it is! You’re telling me it’s a requirement to go run around in sweaty clothes for an hour then go back inside, change, and just… go around school like that for the rest of the day?!” Azul’s hands came up to lightly slap him back.

”it’s only torture to you,” Jamil retorted, shoving him onto his back for effect, “not my fault you’re weak.”

Azul stays on his back for a moment, turning his head to look at Jamil for a moment. He’d always thought Jamil’s face was so pretty, full of sharp angles and ‘mean’ features that made his heart swirl. Too bad he had a fight to win.

He swung his other arm behind him, grabbing a pillow before smacking it right across Jamil’s face. Jamil’s face split into a wide grin as he lunged for the pillow in Azul’s hand. They stumbled around for a moment, fighting for control over a pillow as if their weren’t three others on his bed.

The kept fighting, with no real malice behind it, until a pouch crash echoed through the room. Azul’s bottle of ink was spilled across the floor, knocked over from Azul’s legs.

They both scrambled up, Azul blurting out a quick “I’ll get a towel-“ before running off to his bathroom.

“why was your ink pot on your nightstand??” Jamil let out, exasperated as he caught the towel Azul threw at him.

“I was working on a contract last night-“

“in bed?!?”

“Don’t question my methods!”

“This was bound to happen!” He shoved the towel onto the spill.

Azul kneeled down next to him, pulling in Jamil for a quick kiss before sweeping up the glass, “there, do you forgive me now?”

“I’m not mad, ‘Zul, I just don’t think you need to be working so late you’re still writing in bed.”

“…okay,” Azul sighed. He had been working late lately, maybe he should relax a bit more.

He glanced up at the boy next to him. Yeah, maybe he should.

[piratefishmama]

i wonder if the cast ever found Flayed Billy to be absolutely terrifying to act with. I'm rewatching ST out of boredom and i'm at battle of starcourt now and Dacre is terrifying as Flayed Billy.

Like Dacre is super charming and clearly an absolute sweetheart but Flayed Billy is honestly terrifying.

His strength, the predatorial way he reacts to things, that one scene where El tries to push him back in the mall and he just slams her head back against the wall then throws her against the other wall, the efficiency with which he takes them all down one by one, like they're nothing to him. They're completely defenseless against him and his strength.

Facing that kind of ferocity even acting has got to be at least a little intimidating.

The Flayer picked one hell of a host when it came to Billy, Will was clearly taken through necessity, Will was the only one who could walk between the worlds, he was the only one accessible at that time.

but given the choice of host... it knows how to pick em.

[revelisms]

A few Arcane HCs I haven't quite gotten to in my fics, but have been running in the background while I'm writing:

Jinx's and Vi's dad was an inventor: clever as a fox, boisterous and sly, smoker's gravel on his words. He sang when he drank, and he got angry: at himself, at the ceaseless cycle of working the mines, at a world he felt trapped in. He did his best, though. He was loving and kind, always driving ahead: vowing to make promises the world wouldn't let him keep. Powder (Bluebird, he'd call her) was his little girl. They'd tinker together when she was very young. She doesn't remember him much, but she misses him. Mirrored against Vi, against Vander, against Silco, is always Papa.

Jinx has her own routines with Dustin, Ran and Lock. When she first came into their crime posse, the three of them held her at arm's length, skittish at venturing too close to the boss's ward. Slowly, though, they all took her under their wings. Dustin taught her how to throw knives, and how to dance—not gracefully, of course, but lively, freed, fun. Ran taught her how to sharpshoot, and how to cook steamed sweet-doughs with her favorite fruits. Lock taught her how to throw a punch, and how to strum a folk-fiddle pretty enough to make it sing. She's closest to Dustin. He doesn't talk much, not sincerely, but there's a lot they can relate to. If she ever needs someone to sit with, he's her second-choice. They'll sit at the bar together, prattling over their music and painting designs on their nails.

Silco has tattoos—several, in fact. Most are hidden beneath his clothes. Jinx and Sevika both have caught glimpses, when his sleeves are rolled up. On his left arm is a leviathan that cords its finned tail from the inside of his elbow to a set of gaping jaws over his shoulder. A painter's dozen litter his back: patterned motifs, a sweeping snake of sea-kelp, death's-head moths split by glistened daggers, a devilish star. Hidden on the underside of his right arm is a sliver of ink: a bleeding eye caged between fanged teeth. Most others have been smattered with scars, over the years: bullet wounds, knife slashes, shrapnel.

Sevika occupies a rare state of limbo among their crew. She's seen flavors of vulnerability Silco has bared to no other, and has laid down her shields, in turn. One would be unwise to call them lovers—their tastes in all things, down to preferred partners, skews polar opposite. But they have weathered similar hells, and know how to navigate them. Silco knows that she will cry when her rage burns out, and only then: a Vesuvius that takes years to boil up and over. Sevika knows that dragging a hand over Silco's nape, palming slowly into the dark quills of his hair, will make him jitter on his feet: a conflated snap-reaction of hackles raised and walls crumbled. They have shared meals, baths, beds—and, on few occasions, rooms at the brothels—but they are a partnership that leans towards wedded servitude before it ever greets affection. Still, they are intrigued by each other. A mutual curiosity at the layers that unfold, if one only dares to look beneath them.

Vi sees herself first as Powder's sister; Jinx saw Vi first as her own mother. Their relationship has been weighted by this ever since the bridge went up in flames. Vi remembers their mother vividly: how she hummed folksongs when she worked, made them warm stews and stitched their clothes with bright thread; Jinx remembers only a shadow, a lovely voice, and Vi's hands—hands that had Papa's anger, that smashed things and threw them far, far away, kicked and shoved and roared, fizzled out to quiet, frustrated apologies. The cannery fire wasn't the first time Vi had let her anger get the best of her, but it was the most explosive. She's held the shame of it with her, her whole life—and it's a fear Jinx has never been able to detach from.

Despite this, Jinx is touch-first and speak-second. She was always a tactile child—even more-so, after everything. Ironic, then, that she's so often sewn at the hip to a man who's, on the surface, touch-averse and impeccably clean. He's had to peel her off him like glue, more than once, leering at the soot stains she'd leave on his suit. (Child...you do know how to bathe?) But it brings out a quieter, forgotten part of himself, that closeness. He's tactile, too—something long staved off by his betrayal, by the nature of his position, by the violence he enacts and commands; but memory makes easy habits. It's not uncommon to find him making room for her at his desk; letting her nest in his arms while he lounges on his office's chaise, a book in hand; sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with her, folktales murmured late into the night, until her eyes stutter closed, her comforters tucked lightly over her shoulder. And all of it isn't Vi, to her—but it's a shadow of something Jinx remembers; a quiet warmth, a tired voice, a face she's forgotten.

Silco has had many drift in and out of his life, over the years; mentors less-so than bloodied beacons. With Vander, it was a young, prickling, heartached obsession—a desire to prove, to be seen, to be worthy. A manifestation of all his childhood ails, emboldened to their ugliest frenzy. Vander goaded; he chased rooftops and leapt from ever-greater heights; his ambition soared as far as his body could take him, as long as it took for someone to fall behind in the chase. But Silco could outwit him, outpace him, with strategy and scheming—the two of them unstoppable, unmatched, and enmeshed with unbalance. A hound on a killer's leash; a killer baring the hound's teeth. After the betrayal, Silco spent months in the reclusive company of the doctor. Science became a second language, and Piltie business rode on its coattails. The doctor got him through back-door loopholes into Topside medical labs, bartered connection with tutors in law and policy and business, and laid the foothold for investment. Silco's penchant for wordsmithing a crowd and eye for industrialization did the rest.

As a byproduct of the doctor's work, Jinx inevitably crosses paths with Viktor. She learns of him from afar, early-on in her settling in at the reacquired Last Drop. A little errand of passing off reports from Silco to Singed and back again leave her ogling Viktor's work, at every chance. He wants nothing to do with her, at first—until she prattles off her knowledge on chemical reconstruction, shows her inventions, wins his favor. They become good friends, over the years. In the aftermath of Fishbones' explosion, he's one of few who make active efforts to see her: they'll sit at the banks of the Pilt and share fishcakes, pickled cabbage, and thermoses of black tea. She'll talk shimmer varients; he'll talk chem-augmentations with Hextech. Together, they'll compile their shared notes in a tome she dubs Hohenheim (Hohie, for short). It's one of her most treasured possessions.

[syn0vial]

jango fett really is the master of starting out a thought in wholesome territory and then just gradually letting it devolve into borderline fridge horror, huh.

[dumbblondesposts]

[frappe-the-peppermint]

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP U R SAYING SOMETHING STUPID STOP IT STEDE

[megatraven]

sydney, in the middle of being terrified out of her mind in adrian's first spirit dream with her: wow his eyes are so green,,,,,

[roman-o-cheese]

Happy “panic attack at the thought of doing anything” season guys!!!🎉🎉🎉

[wlwinry]

been on the verge of tears all day and i dont know. why.