#| pitgritted. |

[sangreprince]

Starter Calls | Accepting | @pitgritted

❝ Uhm... Not quite sure how I got here, but it seems I have the wrong address. ❞

Not every day did he stumble into an active arena. Perhaps in Elysium, but not the mortal world. He was already fatigued, and it had only been a few minutes. Exerting himself in any capacity was difficult on the surface, and yet he still held his own in bloody fashion. Good show, though. Supposed that was what happened when mortals decided to square off against a God, albeit one out of his element. Somewhat breathless, he gave a small wave to the half-breed Vastaya who watched from his booth.

❝ Sorry for getting your arena messy. Now if you simply point me towards the nearest point of exit, I'll be on my way... I have to go water my mothers flowers and I have perhaps an hour to do so. ❞

[pitgritted]

Sett  has  appeared  !  What  to  do?

Grope Kiss  cheek Punish Kiss  on  the  cheek

i am not making this up, LOL

[kalijhomentethi]

“ clearly … one o’ us fits the bigger package … “

SETT punctuates tailgating his long thick digits around his pelvis , signaling his size . hairy ridden jaws clamp down as he gave akali a pointed look , fixating brightly pigmented golden specked eyes on her . he was measuring her up . how the fuck did such a small thing even compete with him in size !?

the half - beast barks out a low displeased grunt , folding his arms thereafter . “ eve’ is runnin’ her mouth that y’ may or may not be bigger than me in size . i want exact measurements — “

this is a competition now . he wants answers .

akali’s eyebrows immediately furrow at sett, painting an expression that clearly shows how weirded out she is by this exchange. whatever he’s going on about now, she didn’t expect to ever talk about with him of all people. she lets him say his piece, not bothering to glance down to see how he’d match up against her. she doesn’t need to know.

“okay, first of all, what the fuck.” her hands raise up in a pause motion. she’s gonna have a chat with evelynn later. although it does wonders for her ego to know her girlfriend is showing her off to other people. “second, for the record, i really don’t care ‘bout how small or big you are, dude. seriously.” and they both know the why to that. it’s no secret. women are just better. evelynn especially. she doesn’t care about her supposed competition’s measurements. “and third—”

one of akali’s hands move to rest perpendicularly on her thigh, motion filled with an exaggerated flair. there’s quite the distance between where her zipper would start until where her hand is. not to mention the large indent that travels along her thigh, length pressing against her pants. there’s no mistaking it for anything else.

“—i can’t believe you’d doubt that i’m bigger. 10 inches at least.”

[noxianwill]

❝  ‘yer  a  noxian  too  …  no  beatin’  round  th’  bush  ‘s  there  ?  y’  can  easily  pitch  me  bein’  one  too  …  ❞  SETT  went  quiet  ;  not  out  of  losing  his  bravdado  —  far  from  it .  perhaps  …  he  was  getting  a  little  too  curious  about  his  old  blood .

asks. // @pitgritted

She remembers Ionia, that first time she had been brought here; her first assignment — the only time she had been here before. Katarina is well aware Swain has plans for it still, but her own duties more often led her elsewhere, to the Freljord and Piltover or within Noxus itself. Truth be told, she doesn't like Ionia; it's not just the lingering taste of failure, not when its shackles no longer hold her. It's the land. It feels wrong.

She knows when she's not welcome.

But Katarina does not pretend to be anything other than she is, much as any other Noxian soldier around, leftovers from the invasion or new arrivals slowly building up to the next. To be recognized as Noxian is not an issue; expected, if anything, with how wildly distinct their peoples were. It's what may follow that tenses her shoulders as emerald eyes study the man before her. There is nothing to gain from picking random fights, and anything that may increase the tension between the two nations is to be avoided. She would never hear the end of it if she had to kick the ass of one of the most notorious crime bosses in Navori.

Settrigh's reputation preceded him, of course.

❝ How did you guess? ❞ No insult to his intelligence; a mere lighthearted quip at his assumption. She is Noxian to the bone — and there is disguising it, but she's not interested in it now. He is also right in that his blood is not easily denied. Even Ionia's most dangerous fighters would not revel in purposeless violence. He made it a business; and a successful one, at that. Draven would love the place.

A hum, in agreement with his words. Then she leans against the wall, tension seemingly forgotten, and tilts her head slightly to the side. ❝ That's easy enough to tell, yeah. I would ask what's one of ours doing so well settled among the natives, but it's also plain enough to see you've never truly been one of ours, huh? ❞

Light shrug; there is no accusation in her tone, all casual. She isn't here to admonish or conscript; she isn't Darius to think that's her duty regardless of an assigned order. ❝ A shame. I think you'd fit right in. ❞

[vilence]

❝  you  ain’t  half  bad  ,  girlie  .  fighters  'are'  deservin’  of  recognition  .  most  turn  ‘t’  splinters  bein’  punched  by  me   .  ❞  𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓  twists  the  sinews  &  nerves  in  his  bloody  hand  ,  forming  an  equivalence  to  a  pommel  ;  thick  phalanges  quivering  against  slick  callouses ,  accompanied by the appendages of crimson arches .  canines  resting  upon  cut  -  up  chops  .  ( he spits out a tooth as well ) ❝  ‘y’  bust  sum’  more  heads  …  ‘y’  just  might  find  ‘yerself  an  invite  .  ❞

        THE PIT VICTOR IS REMARKABLY EQUAL ON ONE ANOTHER, there's quite no telling who may remain the round's king    &.    it's soon so clear. Vi, intoxicated as she were, proved worthy of the vastayan's standards. Colored UNSURPRISING, as fighting has always been her favored sport - something learned to protect she    &.    the family. Even if it brought on more trouble than were worth. Knuckles soon crack, a smirk crossing scared face    &.    eyes of silver masked around dark make-up point at the man. Vi's all too SATISFIED with the fact she caused him to lose a tooth - however, she knew how shitty that felt. Having lost her own during a bar fight with Silco's right hand back then    ...    Sevika.

          ❛  Bustin' heads is all that matters to me, anymore. It'll be a piece of cake racking brains together    &.    takin' them down with one swift uppercut. I mean. Sure as hell happened to you, didn't it? ~  ❜        She teases, winking.         ❛  Bet I'd be your number one in the tournament, just gimme somethin' worth my time    &.    I'll consider it, @pitgritted.  ❜

[yunalai]

@pitgritted

"alright, I gotta be honest with you—"

Qiyana glanced upon the extensive collection of machinery lined up in files along mirrored walls. her nose scrunched up some. a few of these were easy enough to figure out, like the treadmills or the benches. others looked like torture racks. something the cenobites would hook her up to or something.

"I got no clue what half this shit does and where to start with the other half, Sett."

that kind of thing happens when all you do is cardio and yoga at your own personal studio.

[tealbeats-archived]

“YOU HEARD IT HERE, EVERYONE! BIG OL’ SETT SAID HE’D SMASH ME—“

[crimsononiarataki]

Hey, mun and thoma writer of ( @redgiven ) ! Your interpretation of Arataki Itto is genuinely such a great thing to see on my dash. Hence why I filled you on my main blog, because I literally just enjoy how much effort oozes out of your muse through your writing, and you describe in such a way that can be seen as canon in my eyes. Your portrayal is so well written, studied, and beautifully executed. I look forward to more interactions, be it with Thoma, or even through other characters <3

Meme ; In which I believe people are still out to slay me with kindness.

//I figured out that you were the same writer when I read the rules on your carrd before I followed back. Initially I was - well, honestly very confused about why a character from LoL followed my blog. I have not played that game in some time between ten and twelve years now, I believe. I struggle a lot when it comes to being complimented as I feel my writing is lacking, or missing 'something' that I am unable to discern. I know a few people who are just incredibly bias toward me in general due to having been friends with them for a number of years. Just knowing that there are people, newer ones who started following me within the past few months, who view my writing in such a way makes me feel good about it. It has taken me some time to get to where I am now and I am looking forward to continuing to grow as a writer with other people's muses. (Funny enough, people tell me that writing opposite me helps their muses to grow.)

[agonizedembrace]

🛒 What's on the list? Any plots or ideas? Something you wanna write? ( me in the corner conjuring up more writing between eve and sett … )

rp preferences meme!

i don't currently have too much on the table right now actually! Egg and I are currently developing one storyline regarding eve's next target:tm: but other than that it's kinda ... ??? there are a few things with nobuu ofc too

but yes please gimme more eve and sett content i am always down for that

[enjomo-arch]

clad  in  the  regal  crimson  armor  adorned  with  the  emblem  of  noxus,  his  flame-engulfed  cloak  softly crackling  behind  him  as  he  moves  further  inside.  his  flaming  tattoos  accentuate  the  lines  of  his  face,  reflecting  his  heritage  and  the  blazing  spirit  within  him.  ace  enters  the  pits,  he  commands  attention  without  needing  to  speak  a  word.  the  flames  flicker  and  dance  along  his  body,  a  testament  to  his  fire  fist  abilities,  which  are  both  feared  and  respected  throughout  the  lands.  he  observes  the  raw  power  and  brutal  clashes  around  him.  a  view  of  brutality  and  massacre  turned  into  an  art  of  battle  fueling  the  wide  audience  roaring  with  an  echo  spreading  through  the  pit  itself.

he  wasn't  particulary  interested  in  only  watching.  the  concept  of  fighting  not  only  was  something  ace  grew  up  with,  here  it  served  as  mere  entertaiment  to  the  masses  and  warriors  coming  off  victorious  could  be  a  potential  target  for  the  commander  to  recruit  for  the  military.  however,  this  wasn't  why  he  was  here.  he  was  here  to  speak  with  the  boss.  

making  his  way  up  into  the  lodge  where  he  was  to  find  whoever  was  running  the  place,  the  fire  fist  stood  in  the  doors.  his  knuckles  softly  tapping  the  frame  as  he  searched  for  the  boss'  attention.  freckled  darling's  cheeks  with  a  smirk  dancing  around  the  edge's  of  his  lips.  his  fiery  presence  leaving  already  a  noticeable  change  in  temperature.  ❝  anyone  home  ?  ❞  he  asks,  rather  coming  out  too  casually  in  situation  like  that.  but  it  was  just  the  sole  trademark  of  his  personality.  a  carefree  commander  of  noxus  whose  determination,  strength  and  loyalty  always  left  a  mark  behind.

@pitgritted , plotted.

[pitgritted]

⸻     𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒  ➤ settrigh .

tagging [  :  ] @burntscars , @futureforged , @fearsgod , @hallowedhem ( atreus / pantheon ), @artisankiller tagged by [  :  ] @witchcraftandburialdirt & @agonizedembrace

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

sett pinches the green fabric of robin’s hat , peeling it back atop the smaller male’s head . chapped & scarred lips twist into a protruding frown ; first skeptical … then full of understanding . the ring side doc was practically out of it . asleep . knocked fuckin’ cold . ❝  how  many  times  must  i  tell  y’  to  give  it  a  rest  ?  look  at’chu  ?  knocked  out .  ❞ he mumbled to himself , keeping the abrasive expletives withheld to the catacombs of his mind . the boss slowly picks the angular hat off his head & placed it aside of him , straightening the white strands delicately with his claws . a moment later he dawns robin’s body with his furry coat . ❝  you  can  give  it  back  later  ,  champ  .  g’  night .  ❞

── 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ── 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

In a rare moment of respite, Robin found himself reclining in his office chair, a sight seldom seen given his perpetually bustling schedule and the restless demonic force that brewed within him. It seemed that in blissful sleep he had found repose. Here he lay with his hands, usually in constant motion with tasks and responsibilities, now lay peacefully folded over his stomach; rising and falling in synchrony with his gentle breaths. The candlelight was flickering and fading in the reflective jewel of his earrings, telling of how long the wick had been neglected - now burning low and casting the room in a cozy ambiance. Although there was always that tingling feeling of a thousand eyes watching from the shadows - that could be ignored.

In this moment, the usually intense and driven Robin appeared almost serene, his pearlescent complexion bathed in the soft hues of tangerine and gold. His wintry curls, always rigidly kept in place, now seemed to submit to the gentle caress of Sett's attending claws, cascading down before springing back into place to frame his darling visage in a soft halo of light.

The dangerous demeanor that he usually carried, tightly wound like a serpent, had completely unraveled - and he appeared to soften even further as Sett whispered and scolded him. Sett's voice, soft and soothing, seemed to have a mesmerizing effect on Robin, causing him to melt further into the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. The additional warmth was wordlessly welcomed as Robin's body shifted beneath the blankets, and his hand gently rose to meet the Vastayan's. His touch was featherlight, and his grip was almost nonexistent when his fragile fingers wrapped around Sett's. Gradually, the rough palm was brought back down against him, flinching as if the mere contact had jumpstarted his heart once more.

Once settled, a tremor of emotion rippled through him, manifesting in a soft, tear-choked murmur that bespoke a soul laid bare, unable to hide behind any veil as he slept:

"S ━ Stay … "

[kalijhomentethi]

[ text [ : ] ‘kali ] ‘eve said you were er … taken by bees . you doin’ alright ?

[ text [ : ] ‘kali ] yone is ‘ere with me rn .

[ text [ : ] ‘kali ] she is with you , right ?

-> [biggerest 🤜💥]: no idk where she's going HELP

-> [biggerest 🤜💥]: at this point i might as well be taken by the bees

-> [biggerest 🤜💥]: i told eve i was nearby and she got upset??

-> [biggerest 🤜💥]: maybe yone has secret beejutsu and knows where shes going

-> [biggerest 🤜💥]: he isnt innocent in this why did he ask me if im allergic to bees

[weldlune]

@pitgritted / ☾

The noctum still makes his veins ache like a sore muscle, and though he's cleansed himself, stopping by a stream to wash the blood from his face and robes, he still feels like he carries the deaths with him. You were right to do it, Alune murmurs in his mind, and the noctum is still so fresh that he can almost feel her hand twining with his, encouraging him onwards the way she always did. They spread their hateful beliefs this far — each friend they make is an enemy of ours. But he is tired and sore, and craves more than anything the hot springs of home and his own fur blanket at home.

As luck would have it, though, instead of a luxury inn he finds another fight, though this one seems slightly more evenly matched than the he just entangled himself in. One man, taller than the rest, stands his ground against several more who seem intent on wearing him down and, based on the way they hold their weapons, they don't intend to keep him alive once they do. This is not your fight, Aphelios, Alune's voice is warning, already seeing all the possible outcomes of the fight in her mind — in their mind — but there is something about it that draws him in. The way the smaller fighters corner the larger makes him think of the lone Lunari who are captured and killed by groups of Solari, and he knows he can't stand by and watch it happen.

The first shot is easy. Alune is reluctant to provide the lunar weapons for a fight that isn't holy, so Aphelios draws the firearm from his hip and kills one of the attackers in a quick, deadly shot that gets the rest of their attention. After that, he draws his curved moonblade, making it clear in the set of his face and shoulders that he fully intends to even out the fight, if only a little.

[deathdxnces]

           “ trust me , i know . i didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth . it was always meager pay &. livelihoods . it was always … tryin’ to rise up beyond everybody else . ” sett could feel his adam’s apple bob , saliva carefully being swallowed . “ quite ironic isn’t it ? i’m half of that noxian’s blood … but i don’t want to be associated with those perverse blood hounding freaks … but i ended becomin’ like em’ . i love the fight &. adrenaline . you … do things for a cause — for ionia . ‘yer a good one , irelia . you ain’t a thug . you ain’t a traitor . ” his jaw fixed in on itself , his ears bending back .

“ don’t let anyone tell you any different . if they got somethin’ to say — they answer to me . ”

» — IN CHARACTER ASKS.

— @pitgritted

Navori wasn't always a violent place. Irelia remembers, as a child, being allowed the freedom to venture all around the small village her family called home and even beyond, in the outskirts where human occupation gradually gave way to untamed nature. Whenever her father insisted one of her brothers should accompany her, it was out of fear she might get herself hurt or in trouble, not out of fear of what others might do.

The dancer is old enough to know, however, that the apparent peace does not mean violence did not exist. Other than Fae'lor, Navori was the first place Noxian influence started to grow, creeping up slowly as ivy upon a tree, well before the actual invasion started. She knew now it was part of the invaders' habitual approach; their spies would seek to learn as much as they could about strengths and weaknesses, what the people were like, what in their culture and land might be useful to the empire. Having others spread Noxian values and habits and language was but the other side of the coin, an attempt to make those they sought to conquer more amenable to the empire.

Sett wasn't the one who created the fighting pits. That came with the Noxians, those who arrived even before the war. It belongs to him, now, nevertheless; it draws in crowds of Ionians, not Noxians, eager for bloody entertainment and a place to indulge their vices. Irelia should be horrified; if she was the person her father intended for her to be, she wouldn't be so at ease speaking to the man who runs this whole thing. But that person died long ago, when war had only just started to tear the land apart. In a different way, Noxus had made her a bloodthirsty creature too.

So when she listens, the dancer does so with understanding (she cannot imagine what life was like for him, growing up; she knows it must've been hard, considering the conflicts between humans and vastayans). Irelia does not doubt he did what he had to do to survive — not just that, but to thrive against the odds. Blaming him for that would be cruel, and hypocritical besides.

Her blue eyes soften, filled with quiet sympathy and a mix of understanding and remorse, before her gaze is cast down with a light head shake, a subtle, wry smile finding its way to her lips. "You are not the only one who ended up developing a taste for blood," Different, perhaps, in that she did not enjoy senseless violence, in that her killing had a purpose. Wasn't it somehow worse, though, that she enjoyed seeing the life ebb from the Noxians she killed, that she relished in leading them to a bloody end? Irelia knows his fights often end with death, as well, but it feels different somehow; less personal. She isn't sure which is worse, or if it matters at all.

He isn't wrong, though. Her cause was and had always been First Lands. It was why she first fought, and what she would give her life for. The dancer is uncertain it makes her good; she knows that makes no difference, though. Even if part of her wanted to be good, wanted to be a version of herself now long gone, Irelia knows ultimately any goodness would be set aside in the blink of an eye, should it keep Ionia and Her people safe. That is her purpose, regardless of it being fulfilled less reluctantly than it ought to.

"I fight for a cause, but that doesn't mean I enjoy fighting any less." Words not often spoken aloud; and though her tone is quiet, it isn't uncertain. His openness was the reason Irelia felt there was room for that admission to be made (yet she wonders, even as she glances up to meet his gaze, if there will be aught of different in how he looks at her now). "That alone doesn't make you like them. Your fighters choose to do what they do, for better or worse. You're robbing no one of their freedom. You're not going out of your way to harm the innocent. Considerably better than the Noxians by that alone, I'd say."

Irelia chuckles lightly at his promise to deal with her critics; the smile that lingers is a fond one (it is nice, to have someone so ready to step up to defend her — unnecessary as it would be most of the time). "You might have to deal with a pretty long line, though. There's no small number of people who don't see it like that."

[tealbeats-archived]

“Hey, don’t—ugh—worry! I know to be careful, big guy!”

Ezreal’s hand slams between poor Sett’s ears as he attempts to use his head as leverage as he attempts to climb his behemoth of a friend, tongue stuck out in concentration and brows narrowed softly before he let out a loud, surprised noise when Sett pulled him off effortlessly and tucked him under his arm, using Ezreal to squirm in the grasp of a man several times his size.

“Wh—HEY! Watch the hair!!!” Ezreal protests as he feels knuckles dig into his scalp, grabbing at the hand in question with a hope to pull it off, kicking his legs before falling limp in Sett’s arm with a groan of defeat. Though, he couldn’t help but raise a brow and burst out into laughter.

“Jealous??? Yeah right! Wait—you don’t really think he’d be jealous, right?”

// @pitgritted | con’t.