why isn't this canon


Lonely prince Noctis of Lucis asked the Astrals for a friend…

…So the Astrals sent him an hyperactive gunsman with passion for destruction and chocobos.

Apologies for poor quality. I’m not an artist, but this had months in my head and had to put it down some way. Tumblr is also lowering the already low quality, but the joke’s what matters. :]

It’s all directly traced from the original Lilo & Stitch scene and adjusted into the characters. Except Gladio. I only traced the outline of Nani’s head and did the rest myself. 

I’m not supposed to have the time for this.
I regret nothing.

anonymous asked:

The other day my friend looked at me and said how she thought it would be funny if Lucia was secretly dating Chief Dodds and Barba didn't know because he would freak out when he finds out and now I'm curious like is this a thing?? Do people actually ship them? What do you think?

…. wh.… oh my god…. but.…… YA’LL…….. THIS IS BRILLIANT!

Originally posted by knittingharlot


Originally posted by minidodds

Barba: “Chief Dodds! What’re you doi… M- … Mami…?!?!?!”
Lucia: “Rafi, it’s not what it looks like-”
Chief Dodds: “I, uh, should really get going now…”
Barba: *has no idea what to even do* “OBJECTION! MAMI?! OBJECTION! OBJECTION!”

Originally posted by knittingharlot

Chief Dodds: “This isn’t court, Barba, don’t be a dramatic nancy-”
Lucia: *mama bear* “Don’t you talk to my Rafi like that.”
Chief Dodds: *shit shit shit* “Okay, I’m sorry, Rafi-”

Originally posted by obsessed-north

[[okay but seriously; Barba’s father was abusive and not there for him at all // Dodds Sr was overly-involved in his son’s life // both Barba’s father & Dodds Sr’s son are deceased at this point // this dynamic could actually be pretty fulfilling for both of them and us viewers: giving both of them what the other lack ((Someone to actually stand up to Dodds / Someone to actually be supportive for Barba)) / are most upset about ((saying this because obv Chief Dodds misses his boy, and Barba has mentioned pain due to his father more than he’s shown aaany consideration to a romantic relationship)) / could fill the gaps in their character’s desires without going cliche at all… and I really would love more Lucia… I really really wanna right a shortie story about Barba & Dodds having a drink after this discovery now….]]


Reaper is without doubt a patient tactician but boring war council sometimes needs fast decision.

Aka the mandatory Doomfist fanart I needed to do.

Destiel Headcanon

I’m just waiting for the day on Supernatural when Charlie returns and drags the three boys to a convention without telling them it’s a Supernatural one. Then there are a bunch of couples dressed up like Destiel and Dean’s face turns red and Sam chuckles.

Then, a Sam cosplayer walks by gesturing to Dean and Cas and is just like “Nice, I can see the sexual tension.” And then he walks off and they both turn red and Charlie and Sam are just in the back laughing their asses off.

Such a shame that the killer cultist who was a life threatening endangerment to children and was genuinely wanting to kill the said kids is perceived as a good counselor is more popular than an actual counselor who is a woman of colour and is actually certified to work there and works damn hard despite a low shitty pay and tries to connect with campers.

I had a little Destiel Dream last night...

I’ve been so excited for the brokeback episode that last night I dreamt that Dean and Cas were finally reunited and at some hotel for a case. After a long day at work, they decided to hit the hot tub provided by the hotel. Dean was already in the warm bubbles, and out came Cas to join Dean. When Dean saw Cas’s abs he thought holy shit I had no idea that was under there and suddenly he realized that he not only loved Cas as a friend but was attracted to him as well. They were hanging out in the hot tub five feet apart because they’re Not Gay™ when Dean remembers that angels don’t have genders and starts questioning Cas’s sexuality as well. Dean tries making small talk, but soon gives up because he just kept stuttering too damn much! Eventually, they decide to head back to their rooms and as they get up all that warm water is glistening off of Cas’s body and he’s so damn preoccupied gazing at his body that he doesn’t notice Cas is also looking adoringly at Dean. Then Dean looks up and sees that look in Cas’s eye. He sees it and remembers all the other times Cas has had that look, but this time it has a different meaning - because this time Dean knows what that look means because he’s finally realized that that look is in his eyes, too. He recalls how hopeless and desolate he felt whenever Cas has died and disappeared and decides that he will never hold back in his life again since he never really knows when he’s going to lose the people he cares about. With a newfound and almost terrifying determination, Dean steels himself and closes his eyes, leaning in and giving Castiel a kiss that was long-time-coming. The kiss is soft, experimental, and slow. Dean cannot see the expression on Cas’s face but feels Cas’s lips parting and responding with unrelenting fervor. Cas takes a step forward and their bodies press together as the soulmates embrace each other with an acknowledgment that they never again want to be separated. Through their lips pass unspoken love, grief, and hope. It truly was a long-time-coming. 

Then I woke up and cried. (Please reblog and add your Destiel Dreams so we can all cry together.)


- you just turn it on like a switch. turn it off.


Sometimes Root would come home from a mission scattered. She’d sit on the couch and stare into space for hours, laptop forgotten and half-sliding off her legs until Shaw came and rescued it. She didn’t seem distressed or like she was in shock. Just gone.

When she eventually snapped back to the present, it would be with a slight shake of her head. She’d look around the room, curiously, as if she couldn’t quite recall how she’d gotten there, and then act normally. Or what passed for normal where Root was concerned.

“You done staring at the wall?” Shaw asked after one such occurrence.

Root paused in the middle of smoothing out the ruffled cocktail dress she hadn’t changed out of yet. She looked like she was about to answer, but then only smiled and countered with: “Maybe I’ll stare at you now instead.”

Shaw could appreciate not wanting to talk about certain things, but she couldn’t stop trying to piece together the mystery. Root was usually hurtling forward at a million miles a minute. To see her still and empty was unsettling.

It took her a little while to see the pattern.

“Who were you this time?” she asked when Root snapped back to the present.

“Secretary at a law firm.” Root peeled off a black blazer Shaw had never seen before. “Had to get my hands on some documents in the company safe. One of the lawyers tried to get his hands on me, though, so I left him in the safe instead.”

Some thieves left a calling card at the scene of their crime, like a glove or rose or something dumb. Root seemed to leave behind unconscious and severely traumatized misogynists as her calling card. Shaw couldn’t risk telling her how much of a kick she got out of that without risking a round of smugness.

Another episode followed a few weeks later.

“Let me guess…professional dog walker?”

Her outfit wasn’t anything special this time, but it was coated in animal hair.

“Groomer, not walker,” Root corrected as she got up from the couch, leaving a layer of hair behind.

“Well, don’t get any ideas about putting bows on Bear.”

“But he’d look so good with them.” Root pulled a handful of orange ribbon from her pocket and dangled it in front of Shaw like she was a kitten she was trying to entice into playing with it.

Unnecessary pet accessories aside, it was always a relief to see her full of life again.

The next time it happened, Shaw decided it was time to have a talk.

“Do I have something on my face?” Root asked when she blinked out of her trance to find Shaw sitting in a chair across from her, arms crossed.

“You never used to space out after taking other identities. What changed?”

There was a slight flicker of uneasiness on Root’s face, quickly chased away by a lazy smile that was anything but authentic. “Hmmm, maybe sometimes I get too into my role. Side effects of being too good at lying, I suppose.”

It felt like a half-truth to Shaw. “Used to be you’d be a pilot in the morning, a barista in the afternoon, and a debutante in the evening. Now you’re one thing for a day or two and you go all space cadet and stare holes in my wall. What gives?”

Root chuckled and leaned back on the couch, stretching her arms along the back of it. “This is possibly the least subtle attempt anyone has ever made to psychoanalyze me.”

“Subtle isn’t my thing. I asked. Up to you if you answer.”

Root wasn’t making eye contact anymore, a slightly guilty expression on her face. But she looked to be gathering her thoughts rather than trying to escape the conversation, so Shaw waited quietly.

“It’s different now,” Root said at last. “It's….”

She spent a few minutes frowning at the bottle of nail polish she’d left on the coffee table before continuing. “When I take on an identity, I go all in. There can’t be any crack or flaw in my disguise, so I have to be that person. Live their life, think their thoughts. I mean not all my missions require that, but…” She trailed off.

“But the ones that do are the ones you end up spacing out on my couch after.” Shaw could sort of see where this was going. “You’ve been doing that most of your life though. You didn’t used to have to…reboot your brain or whatever.”

“It’s different now,” Root said again. She was picking at one fingernail, refusing to look up.

“Hold that thought.” Shaw stood up and headed to the kitchen, leaving Root behind to sort out her thoughts. She figured the amount of time it took to make some tea would let Root regroup.


Root smiled when Shaw handed her the warm mug. Her smile widened when Shaw sat down next to her on the couch rather than returning to her chair.

“Back before all this, it was never a problem,” Root said, sounding more sure of herself now. “It was a lot easier to switch on and off identities. I was still me, I mean, but me was…less complicated. I kept things at a very shallow level, I suppose. Never let myself feel anything too deeply or get too attached. In some ways, my own identity was the easiest to assume because it was the least involved in anything else.”

She held her mug of tea cradled in both hands and stared into it like there was a script at the bottom to read from.

“It’ll get cold if you don’t drink it,” Shaw pointed out. She wanted to say more, but she figured that Root wasn’t done yet and didn’t want to derail her now that she was finally explaining.

Root obediently sipped her tea. “Thanks. For the tea, I mean.”


“There’s a lot more distance to come back now.” Root chewed on her lip for a second. “There’s more of me. More things that matter, more things I’m tied to, more things I miss. When I stop being myself now, it takes longer to put myself back together after. Like all the pieces of me get mixed in with all the pieces of other identities and I have to sort them out.”

“Sounds like a headache. How do you…I mean…do you just sort through every thought in your brain and put them all in the correct boxes or something?” Shaw didn’t have anything even remotely approaching a frame of reference for this.

“Not quite that consciously, perhaps. I’m not even really actively aware of it. It’s all a bit dream-like, and more like…following trail markers to get out of the woods.”

“Trail markers?”

“Things that strongly connect me to, well, me. Some silly little things–” She wiggled her fingers with their painted black nails. “–but also things like computers, the subway. Her, of course. She always helps me come back.” Root fidgeted with her mug. “And you.”

There was the slightest hint of red in her cheeks. A bit ridiculous that she was embarrassed, in Shaw’s opinion, since she flirted as freely as breathing. But then this was something a lot more complex than some bad innuendo. Shaw got that. She just wasn’t sure what to do with it in this particular case.

“So why keep working missions that make you do this?”

“It’s my job. And I don’t dislike it. It’s just gotten a little more complicated.”

She finally looked over at Shaw and whatever she saw in Shaw’s face made her relax (Shaw hadn’t thought she had any particular expression on, but then Root had always had an uncanny knack for reading her). She placed her tea down on the coffee table and tentatively rested one of her hands on Shaw’s leg. When Shaw didn’t stiffen or move away, she settled her hand more firmly, palm still warm from the mug.

“She did offer to decrease the number of those types of missions, but that doesn’t seem fair. I don’t want to let Her down.”

Shaw held back an exasperated sigh. For someone who went on about how much her AI buddy cared about all of them, Root could be pretty willfully oblivious to how that caring extended to herself as well. But that wasn’t something she could fix in one afternoon.

“What can I do?” It still felt a little weird asking that, but she’d found out over time it was better than staying frustrated in silence. For both of them.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But coming back here…it’s a good place to be. It makes the way back a lot shorter.”

“Then tell your boss that you always come here after a mission.” Though Shaw strongly suspected that the Machine was on the same page as her here.

Root didn’t say anything and the silence stretched out between them. Her fingers traced patterns across Shaw’s leg.

It didn’t happen again for a while (though Shaw was unsure if that was a coincidence or if the Machine was demonstrating the good sense that her analogue interface clearly lacked), but a month and a half later Shaw came home to the now-familiar sight of Root sitting motionless on her couch.

She looked her over with a tiny frown, taking in the details. Whoever Root had been this time had another fancy job that required formal business attire. The look suited Root in so far as all looks suited her, but it didn’t feel quite right.

She ended up sitting on the coffee table in front of Root, carefully lifting one of Root’s hands from her lap and placing it on her own knee. Root didn’t stir.

Shaw uncapped the small bottle of stinky cheap nail varnish that Root still hadn’t moved from the coffee table and went to work applying a coat of black polish to each of Root’s nails. She took her time, being careful not to smudge it, and staying fully focused on her task.

When she finished the last nail on Root’s other hand, Root’s fingers twitched on her leg. Shaw looked up to meet her eyes.

“Thought you hated the beautician business.” Root was all mischievous smiles and bright eyes again.

“Got bored. And you’re sitting on the tv remote.”

“I can think of much better things to be sitting on.”

From totally zoned out to hitting on her in under a minute. Shaw was almost impressed.

“You eaten yet? Dinner, I mean.”

Root shrugged. “Don’t really remember.”

Shaw sighed and headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got some leftovers I can heat up.”

Later that night, she let Root curl up on her and put her head on her chest.

“Getting cold lately,” Shaw said, one hand idly playing with a lock of Root’s hair. “Nice to have a human radiator again.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Hmph.” That level of sentimentality was frankly unnecessary.

“It’s nice to be back.” Root sounded half asleep now.

Shaw didn’t answer, but instead tucked Root’s head more firmly under her chin. She didn’t let herself fall asleep until Root’s eyes drooped shut and her breathing evened out. When she woke up the next morning, she found that Root had rolled off her in the night, but one of her hands still rested on Shaw’s chest, fingers splayed out, and each nail painted with a perfect coat of black polish.

anonymous asked:

Draw my boy Raz being rad

You asked for Rad, but somehow my brain jumped to bring your son to work day two nerds in lab coats. I’m…so sorry;;; I hope you can still get some enjoyment out of it lol


There was a son of Aphrodite who believed that fighting monsters didn’t have to be so downright physical, so he invested money in creating a company that made perfume, clothes, and accessories (purses and stuff) made for the ‘demigod in all of us.’

His name was Hubert de Givenchy.

mystical legs

Loqi: WELL, WELL, if it isn’t Cor the Immortal! So you survived the Citadel. But you won’t survive what I have in store for you! It’s past time your legend came to an end. >:D
Loqi: Can I have an autograph first