Ahem *taps The Mic* I Wanna... I Want Some Genji Smoochies Because Yes Go Ninja Boy Who Deserves To Be

My own Blaze the Cat headcanons! 💜

• Blaze’s strong need to keep hold of her responsibility as the princess of her kingdom was due to her strict father, the emperor. He kept her isolated throughout most of her childhood.

• She was taught swordsmanship as even though she can master her pyrokinesis, it’s still part of the royal tradition for her to learn.

• Whenever her mind is feeling stressed, she goes down to the beaches to meditate or quietly read a storybook under the trees, only temporarily though.

• Every time she sneezes, her ponytail grows into a burst of fire; it’s even worse when she catches a cold.

• As much as she’s embarrassed to admit it, but Blaze has a bit of a sweet tooth. She loves it when Amy and Cream share desserts with her although she attempts to hide it.

• Her favourite genre of books are romantic novels (the nicely written ones of course) she can get lost within the bittersweetness of the stories, to the point when Marine thinks she’s ignoring her.

• The reason why she’s scared of heights is due to her chasing a butterfly up to the highest top of her castle once as a child… she nearly slipped off.

Bonus one w/ Silver

• Somewhere, sometime, the Sol Emeralds called her once again to Sonic’s dimension only to see everything in flames. There she met a white psychic hedgehog and agreed to stay around until she can find some answers for her own.

‘But what is grief, if not love persevering?’

WandaVision, 2021

- - - -

Originally created for @ss-shitstorm’s Fortuna Primigenia

Hey look it’s also in color

conversation that happened on sweet mountain

Happy Valentine's Day !

I used this scene from Sonic X as a reference.

I thought, why not redraw this scene but in Movie Sonic and Movie Amy versions for Valentine's Day?

The flower Sonic gives Amy has a deep meaning, because the lavender rose represents joy, royalty and love at first sight. You can give lavender roses as a sign of love at first sight for another person. To give a lavender rose is to say “I was seduced at first sight”, “You inspire noble and deep feelings in me”😍.

“He’ll always be with you”

“I know, but he’s still not really here.”

Its been a whole frigging year. I’m gonna go cry. i fucking hate doing backgrounds

Of all the pieces I’ve seen in the Cayde pics vol. 2 lineup by @plastic-bridge, this one is definitely my favorite!  ❤️♠️ 🐓

https://plastic-bridge.tumblr.com/post/616710319487811584/destiny-fanart-vol2-ghost-cayde-and-a-sad-story

“So, how do we…?”


“I think it’s like…”


[ID FOR PIC ONE: A blue robot/Exo (Cayde 6) and a woman with black hair and green earrings (Jessie) sit side by side. Cayde’s hand is on the back of Jessie’s neck. Their expressions are longing/intent. ID FOR PIC TWO: Cayde and Jessie, still sitting side by side, are kissing. Their expressions are blissful.]

[ x ] - [ x ] - [ x ] Arcee: Eulogy

"Please..." A desperate plea to the light. To the Traveler. "Bring him back." The emptiness etched at the soul, clawing its way out like darkness dancing just out of reach. Despite the brightness that seemed all encompassing, it was only hollow aching that accompanied the truth.

"It's just a Ghost." Tightness clenched at a throat shaking with grief. The tremble in a voice laced so deep that knees shook, fingers unsteadily holding onto the shell of a once brilliant little flicker of light. He couldn't be gone; that wasn't how this worked...

"You raised an army—you can bring back one Ghost!" Sharp nails tipped with anger lashed out at the Traveler and its silence—its reluctance to bring. Him. Back!

Silence.

Deafening silence greeted grief like an old friend, in a warm embrace that brought trembling shoulders and shuttered eyes. It was just one Ghost, why couldn't it be brought back? Why was it okay for him to die to save the Traveler. It wasn't fair!

"He sure shined bright back there, huh?" Cayde. 

A voice of mirth and chaos, held dim by the reality of the situation. 

"Cayde..." Misty eyes watched Cayde, his face plates shifting into an expression that could only be described as solomn. A new wave of pain, of panic crashed down. Drowning. This is what it felt like to drown. No air, no surface to breach. Only the heavy weight of pain and acceptance.

"'What comes from the light, returns to the light.' My gal sundance told me that." Small glances down at the lifeless shell clutched tightly in quivering hands. "She also said we're all connected. Guardians, Ghosts, the Traveler..." Nervous glances into the endless light, the sparkle of regret meeting decisiveness in light-filled eyes. 

No.

"Now you tell the others this was my choice. My Light. Nobody makes my fate but me." 

No.

Delicate touches, holding hands that couldn't stop quaking. Deteriorating pockets of light, convalescing Ghost. 

"You're my Favorite. Don't ever forget that." 

No!

"Don't..." A breath of air. "Don't!" A panicked shout. "Cayde, please!" Unwavering hands held firm, pinching Ghost between surety and hesitation. "I just got you back! Don't do this! I'd rather lose my light than be without you again!" A pause in the transference of light back to life.

"You'll be fine. You always have been, always will be." A flash, blinding and filled with warmth. Light snuffed out darkness, filled holes and chased away the shadows. Solid ground beneath boots.

A gasp.

"Guardian... there you are." A weak sigh.

It wasn't the Traveler that brought back Ghost. It was Cayde. In still weak hands, Ghost's light flickered with more than just the Traveler's power. Cayde was there, his sacrifice. His final death.

Knees hit rocks, cracking audibly as a scream rend through the air, echoing off the figments of reality the Traveler had crafted. Shattering pain, tearing at lungs that so desperately needed air. Another scream rose, dancing with the echoes of the first into a chorus of anguish. One light lost to return another. A trade that was undeniably uneven in the Pale Heart of the Traveler, where light flowed aplenty. 

Ok consider this... Hazard gets sick and refuses to admit he needs to be cared for until he all but passes out from fever and then gets all flustered and sappy when his S/O starts doting on him and forcing him to lay down and rest.

Fever

Hazard x Reader

A/N: Writing this as I have a cold is great therapy ngl anon, nice ol’ blanket and some soup.

Summary: some of the phreaks have been noticing that hazard hasn’t been taking care of himself lately…even when he’s sick

Hazard was as stubborn as a mule—and twice as proud. You’d noticed something was off for days now. His usual sharp movements had grown sluggish, his voice rougher, and his face was a permanent shade of red. But every time you tried to confront him, he’d brush it off with some gruff excuse.

It wasn’t until Boomslang, ever the watchful eye, cornered you in the hallway that you realized just how bad it had gotten.

“Hey” she called, her voice calm but firm. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “I think you need to check on Hazard.”

You blinked at her, confused. “Why? What happened?”

“He’s been sick for days” she said, her expression unreadable. “I told him to rest, but of course, he blew me off. I saw him nearly fall earlier. He’s too stubborn to admit he needs help.”

“That does sound like him” you muttered, already heading toward where you’d last seen him.

Boomslang called after you, her tone dry. “Good luck. He’s impossible.”

When you found Hazard, he was exactly where you expected—still working, hunched over a desk with sweat dripping from his temple. His movements were jerky, and his shoulders sagged under what seemed like the weight of the world.

“Hazard” you said, stepping into the room.

“I’m busy” he snapped, not even looking up.

“You’re sick” you countered, your voice firm.

“I’m fine” he barked, his thick Scottish brogue rougher than usual. His accent always deepened when he was agitated, and now it rolled off him in waves. “I’ve nae got time fer this. There’s work tae be done.”

“You can’t even stand straight” you said, moving closer. “Boomslang told me you nearly fell earlier.”

His glare could’ve melted steel. “That wee tattletale’s got nae business stickin’ her nose in! I told her I dinnae need help, an’ I dinnae need yours either.”

You didn’t argue with him. Not yet. You just stood there, arms crossed, watching him sway on his feet like a leaf in the wind. His pride was his worst enemy, and you knew the only way to break through it was to let him run himself into the ground—literally.

It didn’t take long. Not five minutes later he stumbled mid-step, his knees buckling as his body gave out. You darted forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

“Jesus, Hazard!” you snapped, lowering him onto the couch. “What did I told you?”

His eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused but still defiant. “Ach, dinnae fuss over me” he muttered weakly. “It’s just a wee fever.”

“A ‘wee fever’ doesn’t make people pass out” you shot back, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead.

He flinched at the touch, his face flushing even more. “I’m nae some bairn who needs coddlin’” he grumbled, though his voice lacked any real bite.

“Well, you’re acting like one” you said, dabbing at his sweat-soaked skin. “You should’ve come to me, Boomslang or hell even Susie the moment you started feeling like this. But no, you had to be all macho man about it.”

Hazard groaned, his arm draping over his eyes as though to block out your scolding. “Yer nae gonna let this go, are ye?”

“Not a chance” you said, your tone softening. “You scared me, Hazard. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a resigned sigh, his brogue softer now. “Yer too good tae me, love. I dinnae deserve it.”

“You deserve to be cared for” you said firmly, brushing a strand of damp hair from his face.

His cheeks darkened, though whether it was from the fever or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “Ye’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like a right fool, ye know that?”

“Good” you replied with a smirk. “Now, shut up and rest you big baby.”

He huffed, muttering something under his breath in Gaelic, but he didn’t fight you. As the fever began to break, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank ye” before drifting off to sleep.

Boomslang was right—he was handy work. But he was your handy, and you weren’t going to let him go through this alone.