[aliqqce]

I’m gonna post jjk portraits all this week okay

[ironcy]

Yamada and Shouta meeting at a scientific conference and falling in love that's it that's the tweet the REAL question is what kind of scientists would they be

[robbingtherobin]

if we're talking medical field, then aizawa is DEFINITELY a forensic pathologist. it gives him the need he has to protect and care for people (by speaking for the deceased) without having to speak to patients everyday. also gets to use logic when working on cases. for yamada, i think he would be an icu doctor. he NEEDS the adrenaline rush and the business that that job can bring. not medical field, then aizawa is a mathematician. idk i just see it. maybe it's an outlet for him to apply his need for logic. for yamada, etymology. he looooves looking at how modern language developed to where it is. since i hc him as autistic, i think he special interest would specifically be the development of slang (see: his incorporation of older slang into his daily speech). i also hc as having dyscalculia, so more math-based sciences i think he would avoid. idk they're part of my brain chemistry so i have 50 million diff aus for them

[deceiviious]

I loveee everybody's headcanons and Yamada as an emotology nerd would be soo cute and on-brand!!! Keep the AUs coming guys I love it

[pineoplya]

Part 1

Part 2

[deceiviious]

i agree tumblr

@vixtionary

[deceiviious]

LeBitch is back.. thanks to my bestie @vixtionary for letting me abuse swain also you can have lb ANY time you want

[deceiviious]

"Oh? The Grand General would isolate himself from the voices of his own people?" She turns, and the air is sundered on the wake of her cloak. Digits play at the metal lining of his lapel, fiddling with the thought of tugging it down - so they may truly see eye to eye, even for a moment. "Not very humble of you, is it? Or are you worried that you might hear their jeering through your window, darling?" Pearly teeth tug at a painted bottom lip; proving his point that she hasn't worn lethality today.

Yet the impudent brat finds a way to poke at tender spots, and no sooner had Emilia leaned closer to lure him into her perfume's daze, than he had stepped away with a delicate jab at her ego. He is, truly, insufferable, but in a way that draws her in. Perhaps she has grown a bit restless over the years; and his defiance is truly something to behold.

Following in catlike footfalls, her nails graze the pillow of his office chair before casually claiming his seat as her own.

"Oh, you would care to lend an ear for my troubles? How sweet." Inspecting her own polished nails, one leg folds over the other gracefully, flashing pale skin from the slit of her dress. "But I have yet to meet a man that makes a good listener, dear. Besides- Ugh, no, not that one, Jericho!" A nostril scrunched with the first hint of fruity stench - and almost instantaneously the saccharine facade falters, giving way to a glimpse of her true nature.

" You have such poor taste. And to think you consider yourself a connoisseur! Laughable, truly~" And she does indulge him with a pompous cackle, but it is far from a fleer. "Pour me a glass of that Piltovan whiskey, instead. No ice. Your company is cold enough."

He follows her with his gaze as she travels across the room, never taking his eyes off of the matron. Years of experience have taught him to be attentive - not only in his Empire, but especially around her. How very easy would it be to slip a vial of poison in an empty cask should he not be watching? Jericho conceals a guffaw when she trails around his desk to claim his seat. Does LeBlanc truly believe this makes him upset? No, he is a far greater man than that - so with a slight nod to acknowledge her, he heads to the opposite chair and sits with a small grunt, arduously stretching his bad leg to find a more comfortable position.

"Isolating myself? Emilia, you are sorely mistaken - yet again." He can't resist the jab. As skilled as she is in sorcery and manipulation, Jericho knows how frail her ego is - it pleases him, in a cruel way, to see her eyebrows twitch and her gaze turn cold as she tries to compose herself. "I take an interest in the people who follow me - I know the names of my talented Generals, of my subordinates and should they pass, I mourn them. You, however... You do not care about your minions. You do not care about anybody except for yourself - and that makes the difference between loyal followers such as mine and people who would betray you should anybody arrive with a better offer. Such as your cabal."

He follows the short monologue with a sip of the wine, marvelling the taste on his lips and pouring her a glass. Jericho chuckles when her face falters, the carefully crafted mask cracking to reveal her true nature - sadistic, demanding and cruel. "No, my dear, I don't think I will." He pushes the glass of wine that he has pointedly filled significantly less than his own over the desk and offers a galant smile. "Now, do tell me what oh so troubles you. Perhaps I am not a good listener - who am I to judge - but I am the only one who can stand you for more than a few heartbeats."

[deceiviious]

I’m stealing Billye’s ideas like Emilia always steals everything from Jericho, so like if you want the most powerful man Noxus in your inbox :)

[deceiviious]

Her motions are swift yet effervescent, with heavy perfume permeating the room. It is saccharine sweet, with an unspoken promise, yet overbearing to the point of lingering on every scrap of paper sprawled out over his desk. " It is so dark in here. How could you bare through it the entire day? " The question is laced with playfulness, though she chances a step towards the window & tugs his curtain's open without permission. She leans against the frame, allowing a gust of filthy capital air to sway the glistening ends of her hair. Used to the stench of war, the Matron draws a breath before turning to glance at him over a pauldroned shoulder. Light reflects on amber eyes then, and Emilia wears a smile that has annihilated thousands of men. " Sunlight is important, you know. Especially, for a mortal. Enjoy it while you can, dear boy~ "

He should have known better than to expect a single day of escaping her. Jericho Swain merely raises an eyebrow when she enters his study. The clicking of her heels against the cobbled marble of the ground had already alerted him before she swings open the wooden door without knocking, a gust of sickeningly sweet perfume accompanying her visit. Scratching away at the piece of parchment that lays on the ebony desk, he takes his time, dunking the black quill - a raven's tail feather - in blue ink, each line precise. He doesn't reply to her until he has finished the last of his letter - a neat signature and the stamp of the Trifarix legion, then he folds the parchment, places it in an envelope and presses a wax seal onto the backside.

Only then does he lift his head with a muted sigh, blowing out the candle that illuminated his desk.

"I much prefer candles. The atmosphere is far more pleasant and the sight less distracting than busy streets and drunken soldiers galavanting about. Then again, you would know nothing of such."

Jericho blinks into the sudden sunlight, rising from his desk with gritted teeth. Even years after his knee was crushed in battle, he was certain splinters of bones had remained, yanked deep inside his tissue, causing grating pain whenever he as much as moved.

"Emilia," he speaks after another few heartbeats, glancing over her shoulder. Even with heels, he towers over her easily - a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. For a brief moment he is tempted to indulge in a fantasy - one that involves shoving her out of the window, then he regains his senses. It would do no good, anyways, and she would only return ill-tempered. "My mortality - and yes, unlike you, I am not afraid to face that, neither am I afraid to face my own death - has become somewhat of a sore point of yours, hasn't it? You bring it up quite often... One might even think you struggle with the concept of your own."

Jericho steps away from the window. Pushing her would be an easy feat - but instead he turns to the shelf that is stacked with books, a map and various assortments of bottles and glasses. His fingers glide across the containers and he turns a bottle in his hand before picking a bitter blend of fruits - one he particularly enjoys and she dislikes. With an almost galant smile, he sets the bottle aside before reaching up yet again for two glasses, setting them on the table.

"Indulge me, my dear. Why don't we discuss what troubles you about your extended period of life."

[deceiviious]

I’m stealing Billye’s ideas like Emilia always steals everything from Jericho, so like if you want the most powerful man Noxus in your inbox :)

[deceiviious]

»empire above all«

I will be participating in the muse swap event from today, 26th of April until Friday, 30th of April and have swapped with none other than @vixtionary’s Swain. Get your daily dose of grandpa Jericho here :)

[deceiviious]

|| ooc

munday contribution before swain takes over ;3 I’ll get to all drafts and asks after the swap week is over, it’s time for jericho baby

[deceiviious]

this is fine

We are fine

@vixtionary

[deceiviious]

It's the way Jhin was stalking us for me @vixtionary

[divinedshadow]

"I am expecting you to meet me in front of the temple in five minutes." The master of the Shadow Order didn't greet her, nor did he add anything on top of his request - she had repeatedly been missing training units and he was not going to let his followers slack off in their martial arts.

Lost in her poetry, Nabi had not noticed nor felt that he would be coming to see her, or else she would have moved to an entirely different place to avoid the inevitable. ..No, not inevitable- nothing is inevitable, not with Nabi- but still. She let out a small, startled squeak, freezing up while in the middle of stroking delicate letters on to a scroll, near forming a haiku. Black ink blotted where she stopped, ruining her work, and she bit back an exasperated sigh. She cleared her throat and turned to face him, bowing her head. “Master Zed- Greetings. If I had known you’d be coming, I’d have prepared some tea... But yes, of course. I will adhere to your command- have you need of a divination? Future strategy?” Nabi knew full well that he didn’t, but it never hurt to try to divert his attention ever so slightly....

[deceiviious]

Sorcery and magic was far from foreign to Zed - after all, his entire body was marked with the remnants of the shadow box he had stolen from the former Kinkou temple, irreparable symbols etched deep into his skin. The young yánléi's power, however, was odd - he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about it was unsettling and eerie and he found himself watching his steps even more than he usually did.

Zed furthermore was aware that some of his students - especially the ones with innate magic - often relied far too heavily on their abilities instead of honing their combat skills. Especially Nabi.

"You know I have not come for divination, student," he spoke quietly, turning, leaning against the frame and pushing aside the curtain that provided a bit if privacy in their dorms. The Kinkou hadn't hung any of them and not used doors - Zed remembered back to his days as a warrior with some dismay. "You've been missing the mandatory training units. We are no joke, we are soldiers. So I'll oversee your training myself." Zed brushed a strand of light hair from his face, tying it back with some woven string so it wouldn't bother him during combat.

[perfect-fourth]

@deceiviious

"A lot of people, but not by my hand. Am I not allowed to be happy just...because?"

[deceiviious]

"No. It’s suspicious."

[deceiviious]

Casually offers Camille some steel polish in a wine glass. The finest of polish.

She eyes the man with her piercing blue eyes, raising an eyebrow. "Where did you get that glass from? It's mine."

Camille pauses briefly, her lips curved downwards at the joke that can only be considered distasteful. "No."

[perfect-fourth]

@deceiviious

"It could be."

[deceiviious]

"How? Whatever it is, 'the drip' won't work on me."