#v: my favourite ships

[akuma-tenshi]

what's up lucanort nation how're we feelin

[loopyarts]

Day 7 free day Aceichiji

For my free day slot, I went insane and made a short scruffy kiss animation for them. :3c

[the-simple-creature]

[false-anomaly]

"Oh, She's more than smart," Says Beetee. "She's intuitive." We all turn to look at Beetee, who seems to be coming back to life. "She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines." (Catching Fire, page 399)

Something something talking about Wiress brings him back to life,, Something something him trusting her with every aspect of their plan even when hes hurt and shes lost,, calling her a canary,, ough

[julesmikas]

i know i did NOTTTT just see a racist marie hater reblogging my post…. like get the fuck out. marie is my gf too fr (and jordan is my best friend) (and mariejordan endgame 🫶🏻🫶🏻)

[milomilesmib]

Actually I think one of my favourite tropes is when character A is having a panic attack of sorts and their love interest guides them through the five senses exercise but when they ask them what they can see/feel/hear/smell they just say "You. Only you."

(Which ships this reminds me of and fic ideas in the tags)

[future-circuit]

found this template on twitter and thought it seemed fun. plus i had some (too much) spare time.

blank template under the cut

[istherewifiinhell]

20-30 min bike ride. [Found a bench sit on cause i were tired] Wah hoo!

I fell. off muh bike 😨

[bibleofficial]

realized my ‘soup’ that i ‘invented’ is just. daal. humans will always reinvent the wheel

[fluentisonus]

napoleon movie was not good tbh

[shadowglens]

(x)

[pastelwhile-art]

Drew my friend's and I's favourite characters from IDV interacting-too bad they both hate talking.

[another-corpo-rat]

Valentine's Gift

an entirely out-of-season ficlet based on an old ask answer of @merge-conflict's dear Valentine hating the holiday that shares her name. Summary: Valentine seethes at the date, Victoria indulges with a gift. All in all, it's just a regular Monday morning. Casual death threats included.

“Oh my, you seem miffed.” Victoria grins at Valentine’s responding huff; a heavy breath of a thing that lifts and drops her shoulders. Paired with a barely-there turn of the head to offer quite the side-eye and she’d almost think the other wasn’t happy to see her. A tickling thought. 

But the show of annoyance is brief as her attention returns to the rich cup of coffee cradled preciously, as good a ward as any against the headaches of a Monday morning. Still, Victoria can’t help but pick at clear agitation. “And here I thought today of all days would be your favourite.”

Valentine pauses. Her grip on the cup tightens, eyes thoughtful as she glances between the coffee’s bitter depths and Victoria’s white blazer. The latter’s grin sharpens, a baring of teeth more than a smile. “I’ll bury you in Silverhand’s grave if you try it.” 

Her expression is wondrous then; a passing storm too quick to be truly admired but for the forlorn cloud that dulls her eyes for a mere second. Much as she is loath to admit it, Valentine is a fellow rat through and through and a more practiced expression takes its place almost immediately. 

“Shame,” she breathes out, easing the slight tension that had been holding her body, “I wouldn’t want to ruin what we have over coffee stains.”

‘What we have.’ The words send a pleasant hum through her, preening at an already polished pride and easing her shark’s grin into an amused smirk. A soft sound brews in her chest, warm and deceptively fond in its gentle roll up her throat. 

What they have is a delicate thing, balanced tentatively on the constant push and pulls that they occasionally press too far on, a reminder to themselves and each other of where its edge lies and the promise that lurks beneath it. A delightful game that will end with one of them dead. 

But until then Valentine is hers. 

She protects hers. 

“I’m glad to see that you have some sense in you. But,” Her metallic hands chime softly as she clasps them together, “I did come here for a reason.” Valentine’s expression pinches, nose wrinkling in that endearing way she had. It tightens even more as she continues; “Related to the holiday, of course.” 

Instead of gratefulness, she’s met with a needlessly drawn out sigh and the exasperated whine; “Not you as well.” 

“Oh, come now.” She doesn’t, can’t really, keep the offense from her tone, letting it sharpen her tongue as she lashes the words. “I’m hardly here to serenade you with flat compliments and discount chocolates.” 

She doesn’t like the thoughtfulness that crosses Valentine’s face, that little twitch of the lips that promises the coming of a goading comment. “I’m not Abernathy.” 

Tension is always an interesting thing to observe. Sometimes it’s a slow drip, creeping up someone’s spine and pulling them taut, occasionally it’s a rolling motion, starting in the shoulders and working its way down. Now, it’s a fist. Slamming into Valentine, unexpectedly violent.  

It jerks her sharply, but she rights herself just as quickly. Back on her feet, adjusting her stance. She eyes Victoria now with a tightened jaw, keeping that smart little comment she had brewing firmly under lock. 

Victoria merely clicks her tongue, a soft tut of a sound as she casts her gaze purposely towards the offices of the woman in question. “She’s been making eyes at you, my dear. Honestly, I have to admire the boldness of it, after what she did.”

The sharp draw of breath would have been subtle if Victoria wasn’t so close, but it’s the expression that gives Valentine away handily. She raises an eyebrow at what appears to be…hm, horror of all things. 

“How did you—”

It’s an effort not to roll her eyes, one Victoria doesn’t bother extending. “It’s my business to know yours. That includes all the sordid little affairs you’d prefer to keep buried.” 

“It wasn’t sordid.” Comes the response, with a lot more bite to it than Victoria anticipated. Sharp and defensive. She hasn’t managed to get a rise so easily in a while. But for now she merely notes the potential of the topic, storing it away as a wound she can dig her nails into at a later date. 

“Of course,” she allows, “but we both know it didn’t have the most pleasant ending.” There’s a soft click as a compartment in her inner arm opens, the other curious but wary as she presents a nondescript shard. 

Valentine is slow to take it, tentative as if she expected a shock the moment her fingers brush the plastic.  “And this is what? A virus? Tracking software?” 

How trite. She had ruled such ideas out soundly within moments of considering her gift. “A shovel, and a heap of shit to bury her under if she tries fucking you over.” 

“And what if she just tries to fuck me?” Ah, and there’s the goading little remark meant to prick at Victoria’s territorial imperative. 

“Then I’ll pick out a pair of concrete shoes for her.” Though, giving it the barest thought – leaving a body to be potentially found wasn’t ideal. “Or I’ll feed her through the propellers of the Ebunike. I’ll see what mood she catches me in.” 

 Despite her carefully light tone, there’s no amusement in Valentine’s expression. Definitely none of the delight she was expecting. Ugh. If she still has feelings for the bitch, then that complicates things. 

But Valentine closes her fingers around the shard and considers her with a thoughtful, familiar glint to her eye. “If I go to her with this…”

“Then you’ll be the one in concrete shoes.” She snaps, teeth audibly clicking together with the force of it. “And I already know your size.” Valentine raises her chin in a challenge, holding Victoria’s eye as if she was expected to fold. As if there was anything to fold over. 

She sighs softly. “You know; most people say thank you after being given a gift.” Most people had manners, granted and she was beginning to expect that her theory that Valentine lost hers from the short time she spent in the gutters held some water. 

“This isn’t a gift. It’s a grenade.” 

“You can always return it.” She considers that option, looking to the shard in the palm of her hand. It’s a generic thing, not even Arasaka-branded. Victoria took measures to ensure she left no prints on the data, nothing to track her. 

And well, if something happens and this little exchange comes up, she’ll wave it off as merely sharing some illicit BDs Valentine had asked for. 

“Thank you, Crane.” 

“You’re very welcome, my dear. Now, I’m afraid I’ve lingered long enough. I do have my own plans for the night.” She can’t help the little twitch at the corner of her lips, the starting of a smirk that Valentine catches as well. “I hope you and the dog enjoy the little dinner he painstakingly planned.” In secret, to surprise her. 

Just a shame then that he decided to piss Adam off in the most recent security meeting.  

“What dinner—?”

“Oh, nothing special I don’t think. Though, he was particular about what chef he hired. I believe he got the old sous-chef from Embers.”

“Crane.”

The smirk isn’t so subtle now, especially not paired with her wink as she turns on her heel. Offering little more than a, “Ta-ta, Myśliwiec,” over her shoulder. 

[kresnikcest]

Trying to think of an April Fools bit this blog could theoretically have that would be believable for me

Probably something like “surprise! I’m actually changing my url to something Xillia themed!” only to change back after

[mistylilly-06]

The cutieeee <33

Goth by @/nekophy

[busyvampire]

🗣️ it’s cuffing season... 🗣️