#v: Blazing Blade

[thelaithlyworm]

gals being pals

[ID Asano Rin and Doa Yoshino standing over a pile of corpses. Both are disheveled and bloody but Rin has the worst of it -- her signature flame kimono is missing a sleeve and sagging to bare one shoulder, and has a ragged hem, and Rin seems to have lost one of her hair loopies. End ID]

To be fair, they didn't create this pile of corpses. They are trying to minimise casualties!

[kayspaceprinceart]

Chapter 3 is where I really started getting into support convos! And ditching Kellam, lol (his gimmick annoys me and I’m not fond of armor units) (also Sully and Miriel’s C support is so neurodivergent. We stan 2 queens)

Also

It’s hilarious when the mission is to reduce a unit’s hp to 0 but bc of plot, they’re fine. Shinon is my favorite example.

[trlblzd]

@vancreux sent : [ distance ] sender backs away from receiver, desperate to establish distance between them //from blade. stop asking him so many questions stelle.

" AND THAT HAPPENED. SO THEN I --- " they quieted down rather quickly the moment that they picked up on his distance. the way in which he seems to be ever so slowly backing away makes them pause and STARE him down. for as animated and as silly as they can be at times, moments where they merely sit still with their mouth closed in one spot while their gaze remains completely on him are UNNERVING if not downright uncanny. stelle is aware that in some way this is his own way of not wanting to entertain more but for some reason ... they take a step forward to advance closer to him. the sheer & blank seriousness of their face is almost crazy.

they do not open their mouth to ask WHERE he is going and neither do they wave him off. for every step back that he takes, they walk forward to close the distance all over again. for every increase in speed, they follow in long strides. they are in it now.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞

KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.

⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.

⤿ word count: 4.6K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.

⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.

In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.

Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.

The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.

It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.

There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.

The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.

Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.

You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.

In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.

The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.

If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.

In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.

It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.

A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.

Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,” You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”

“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”

His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.

Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”

You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.

A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.

He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.

“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.

Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.

“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.

There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.

“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”

“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.

A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”

Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.

“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”

“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.

Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”

“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”

With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”

In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.

Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.

“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.

“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”

If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.

There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”

A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.

Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”

Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.

“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”

“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.

As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.

“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”

This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.

“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.

“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”

You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.

To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.

“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.

Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.

Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.

To be loved, to be coveted.

“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”

A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.

Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.

Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.

“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.

Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.

Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.

He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.

His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.

Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.

The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.

Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.

His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.

Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.

Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.

Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.

As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.

“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.

“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.

Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.

It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.

There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.

He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.

As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.

Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.

Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.

“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.

“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.

A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.

Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.

Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.

Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.

Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.

In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”

“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.

An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.

Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.

With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.

Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.

Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.

“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.

He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.

Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.

His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.

Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.

There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.

Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.

“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.

Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.

The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”

Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.

The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.

A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.

Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.

The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.

It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.

He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.

Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.

The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back — you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.

His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.

Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.

The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.

Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.

Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.

“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.

“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”

“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.

Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.

Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.

“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.

“Consider it a gift.”

[miyukisu]

I Might Bite .ᐟ

❤︎ | Resorting to dirty measures like biting your superior during sparring usually doesn't end without you having a taste of your own medicine... (2.6k wc) ╰ feat. Hoshina Soshiro (Kn8) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 2 | kinktober masterlist

tags - subordinate! reader, biting, marking, spanking, pussy slaps, humiliation & punishment, Hoshina's kinda mean, fingering, p in v, creampies, swearing

minors do not interact

The recent uptick of kaiju attacks over the city has every member of the JAKDF on edge. No one knows when the next attack is coming or if they'll live to see their next birthday. The atmosphere in the Tachikawa base specifically felt odd. Most were hopeless, but then there was you.

You weren't the strongest by any means, but you believed that if it came to being persistent—you'd be the best. It showed; after all, you trained your ass off even in your off hours.

There were times you bled and shed a tear, but you never stopped. Your fellow officers often told you to slow down. But there was one person who always watched from the sidelines—silently observing how you improved every night that you would sneak away into the training rooms.

It was none other than your superior, Hoshina Soshiro.

The vice captain didn't seem all too interested to be invested in the lives of the officers. Frankly, he had better things to do. But the rookie that worked themselves to the bone had successfully caught his eye. There was something about them that reminded him of himself. In many ways, he was drawn to that fiery spirit.

Not a lot of recruits had your determination and he was more than willing to foster that. What kind of vice captain would he be if he didn't help you in honing your skills?

────────────

You stared, dumbfounded, at the fox eyed man in front of you.

"Ya heard me right the first time," he insisted.

You gulp down. "Well... I'm certainly not going to refuse your offer, sir. I was just making sure I understood what you said."

"I told ya—I'll help ya train every night. I meant it."

Finding out that your superior knew you have been violating the curfew had you expecting the worst. But Hoshina's reaction was rather unforeseen.

Instead of making you run laps or do cleaning duty—he offered to train with you during your night sessions. It made sense; training with someone better than you would allow you to improve at faster speeds. The choice was a no-brainer.

"Alright... thank you, sir."

Hoshina simply nodded before walking away from you, satisfied that you were cooperative with his ideas.

"Sir!"

He turns around with a small smile. "Yes?"

"When do we start?"

"Have ya skipped a day before?"

"...No, not really."

His smile widens. "Ya have yer answer then."

────────────

Labored breaths filled the training room—though, most of it came from you. Hoshina barely broke a sweat throughout your entire sparring session. It wasn't shocking anymore at this point.

You estimate that it's already about two weeks since he has started joining you in your training. Not once have you won against him.

At first, it felt quite motivating—knowing that you had so much to improve. But as days go by, it becomes depressing how you can never even land a good hit on him.

You weren't fit to face a kaiju with how things stand and it crushed your once blazing spirits.

With your chest heaving and your vision blurring, you continued to anticipate his next move. You figured he'd at least cut you some slack after seeing the massive difference in skill, but he was merciless. You didn't even fight back as he tackled you to the ground.

Hoshina Soshiro wasn't just talented with a blade, but also with his bare hands. Who would have thought he knew grappling as well? He easily put you in a rear naked choke and you felt your airway quickly constrict.

He taught you that if you couldn't even handle basic hand-to-hand combat—then you'd be nothing doing anything else. Besides, before ending your session with the usual bare knuckled fighting, he trained you with swords and other weapons... in which you couldn't beat him in either.

Going up against him was futile. You absorbed his teachings like a sponge, but when it came to applying them—all hope is lost.

You were going to pass out soon; you could feel it.

Despite telling yourself that you'd always fight fair and square—you realized that this wasn't the time to be righteous. Virtues, principles—whatever the fuck it is—chucked out the window.

You bit down on his arm—hard. Did you draw blood? Perhaps. But that hardly mattered to you. He finally let go, failing to defeat you completely. Hoshina hissed, checking out the fresh wound you gave him.

Neither could you move or speak. In fact, you kept your back leaning on his chest. Doing anything other than breathing was a bit too much at the moment.

"Ya play dirty, don'cha?" he whispered darkly into your ear.

The thickness and intimidation laced in his voice was enough to reinvigorate your entire being. You took the deepest breath possible before peeling yourself off of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Of course ya didn't mean ta do that, right?" he cuts you off, lifting you off of the ground with his impressive strength.

"What shall I ever do with ya? Li'l thing bitin' her superior."

You could only stutter out a pathetic apology as he carries you in his arms.

"Nah, don'cha apologize now. Ya must be sick of me treatin' ya like a ragdoll hm?"

He was right, of course. But you weren't about to admit that to him.

Hoshina carried you over to the side of the room where the long metal bench was. Even out of fighting, he continued to treat you like a doll with the way you effortlessly flipped you over. Your stomach pressed against his lap with one of his hands resting on your nape.

You weren't sure where his other hand was, but you soon found out... the hard way.

A sharp slap made its way to your ass. It had you sucking in more air than usual.

"Not even a single yelp huh? Think ya can handle more? Ya need to be punished after all."

Another slap and then another on the other cheek. Tears were starting to brim in your eyes. With the next slap, you finally yelped in pain. Hearing your sharp breaths, he caressed your poor behind in a soothing manner.

"Think ya've repented enough?"

God, you didn't want to sound weak, but a few sniffles escaped you. His question racked your brain, yet not a single good answer came for it. It was a trap and he was steadily luring you in.

You figured—silence was the best response. However, that pissed off the vice captain even more. Hoshina let out a long and deep sigh. He didn't want to do this; he swears. But you just had to push his buttons.

"Not speakin' huh? How many times will ya disrespect yer superior after I've been kind enough ta be trainin' ya every night?"

If you've learned one thing about him these past few sessions—it was that he never gave you time to react. Only now, you're discovering that it applies to things apart from fighting as well.

He slid you off his lap without warning. Soon as you flipped yourself over, the vice captain was already hovering over you with a stern expression on his face.

He inched closer, slowly but steadily. His eyes never left yours and it seemed to have you in a trance because you failed to realize how he had already caged you between his thick arms.

"Sir..." you managed to say between shaky breaths.

"So you can speak?"

Your eyes finally stray from his face, feeling flustered by the proximity.

"Ya should use that mouth of yers fer talkin' —not fer bitin' ," he said. He leaned in to the point that you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck. It was tantalizing—almost paralyzing. "I think ya should get a taste of yer own medicine," he added.

No time was given to protest as he sunk his sharp teeth into your neck. You gasp, hands finding purchase on his arms. He suckled on the tender skin, sure to leave a mark that you'd have to cover up in the morning.

Then another bite came. Your fingers dug into his flesh. It was painful, but oddly arousing. The intoxicating scent he radiated coupled with his fine looks were a recipe for disaster. But the only one being ruined was you.

Perhaps he felt satisfied after two bites, settling on wet kisses scattered on your neck instead. He kept getting lower and lower until he was met with a barrier.

"Lemme get this out of the way, a'ight?" he says before gripping the soft fabric of your black tanktop—ripping it apart. He smirked at the sight, a flimsy lacey bra.

He pushed it up before smashing his face down on your chest, sucking and lightly biting at a sensitive bud. Your hands went from his biceps to his hair, almost pulling out the strands from the roots.

He bit, tugged, and marked you all over again—like he was staking claim. Hoshina made sure to give attention to the other one as well, sucking on the swell of your breast while using his fingers to toy with the other.

Truth be told, he was too excited and immersed in devouring you that he only now became aware of your sounds. It was delightful to say the least. It made him smile as he nipped at the sensitive flesh.

You began to arch your back, needing more of him. But he took this as a sign to go even lower, planting more kisses that trailed down your stomach. He was giving you whiplash with the alternating softness and harshness of his touch.

He looked up at you and saw your dazed expression, unable to even look back at him. This was fine; this was the only time he'd permit a subordinate not looking him in the eye.

For once, you were able to catch your breath and make sense of it all. You returned your gaze to the man above you. He was hovering over you again, looking down with a feral glare. His large hand gripped your thigh.

"Ya know... fer someone bein' disciplined... ya sure look like yer enjoyin' this."

"I'm not," you retorted. But both of you knew the truth.

"Ya challengin' me? Let's see then, shall we?"

He made quick work of the zipper on your pants before pulling it down and throwing it off to God knows where. His eyes opened slightly, zeroing on the damp patch on your panties. Of course, he was right.

"Would ya look at that—yer pussy's all soaked from that. How naughty."

"I... I... um..."

He huffed. "Ya what?"

Slap. He had slapped your pussy. The stinging sensation had you arching your back off of the cold metallic surface of the bench. A soft groan fell from your lips.

He landed another slap. "Look at how wet ya are right now. Ya shouldn't have lied huh?"

As if to soothe you again, he began rubbing his thumb over your poor cunt. "Didn't mean ta make her cry."

Hoshina smirked at his own joke—because who else would appreciate it? Definitely not you; you were too fucked out to even catch everything that he's saying.

He hooked a finger in the gusset before pulling your panties out of the way. The sight of your dripping cunt made his dick twitch. He had already been especially frustrated this week and the cute little subordinate he trained every night wasn't helping. Her little stunt was essentially the final nail in the coffin.

There was nothing else he wanted more but to fuck you senseless already. But he was a refined man; he had patience.

Hoshina pushed in two digits at first and it almost made him shudder with how tight and warm you were. Patience be damned; he was crumbling all too quickly for his liking.

"Fuck... yer suckin' it in."

A string of soft moans left you. It was music to his ears and he wanted it to be louder.

He began fucking his fingers into you at a faster pace. The muscles of his arm tensed and the veins on his forearm were popping out. A loud and vulgar moan reverberated through the training room. You could only hope that everyone in the base was asleep because there was no way you could be quiet with what he's doing to you.

You tightened around his fingers before unravelling completely. Your pussy fluttered, cumming on to his fingers shamelessly. It almost felt like a task to him—only getting it out of the way to get to the main event.

Hoshina pulled out his fingers, sucking them clean. He would have loved to get a taste of it on his tongue, but all restraint had been lost. He had to sheath himself in you or else he'd actually lose it.

"Take a deep breath for me, a'ight?" he says while unzipping his pants, only barely pulling out his leaking cock from its confines.

Maybe you should have listened because the sudden intrusion of his cock knocked the air out of your lungs. It filled you up nicely, hitting every spot with just one fluid motion.

He groans, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His fingers were practically white with how hard he gripped the bench supporting the both of you.

"Coulda fought me with this instead. Maybe ya coulda won," he teased. He began slowly fucking into you, perhaps a reprieve after his previous actions.

Your hands held on to his back, softly digging your nails into the chiseled flesh. A satisfied groan poured from his smiling lips.

The string of moans coming from you urged him to go faster. He had enough of being slow and soft. He snapped his hips at a maddening pace almost immediately. Your leg fell of the bench, hanging off and allowing him deeper access into you.

He never faltered for a second—even as he leaned down to leave marks on your neck again. You held him closer to you as if you never wanted him to leave... and he wasn't; at least, not until you've cum all over his cock.

His ragged breaths filled your ear as he continued to rut into you. Hoshina was tough, ruthless, and precise—much like on the battlefield.

A familiar clench squeezed his dick. "Ya close? Ya gonna cum on my cock? C'mon, do it," he goaded.

His thumb began circling your swollen clit. After holding on to the cold bench for a while, his touch felt freezing. The warmth you felt inside contrasted with the cold touch of his thumb. The sensation was almost numbing with how good it felt.

"Wanna cum with me? How romantic of ya," he teased again. "Fuck... I'm cummin' —take it all. This is still part of yer punishment. Got that?"

You responded with a breathless moan. That was all it took before hot ropes of cum filled you. The warmth seemed to push you over the edge as well, milking him for all he's worth. And like he said—it would be romantic. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Ya learned yer lesson yet?" he asked, but not before capturing your wet lips in a kiss.

Hoshina let a shaky breath out as he pulled away. He knew it would be good, but he wasn't expecting for it to be this good.

"Shit... was only plannin' one round. Guess it wouldn't hurt ta discipline ya more."

He lazily rubbed his still hard cock. "C'mon, get on all fours fer me and I might not make ya run laps in morning's training." He watched intently as you followed, lining up his dick against your entrance. It was going to be a long night.

"Good fuckin' girl."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note slightly longer I guess because I like Hoshina more lol

[tojisun]

!! smut - minors dni; this is what 'illicit affairs' could've been (toxic relationships); posted bc of this ask; angst ^v^

simon holds you close, his touch so gentle it leaves you breathless. he presses kisses along your shoulder blades, his words muffled on your dewy skin, and you whimper, hoping he'd sound them out louder.

simon never really does, still lost in his own mapping – his hands, his lips, the slide of his chest along your back. you mewl, chest heaving at the euphoric feeling of being the centre of his blazing attention.

the first slide of his cock in your heat is given to you with the same softness. it was so tender that you almost thought of this as simon making love to you. as simon spilling the unsaid affections he carry for you in this moment.

you feel suspended in the air, floaty with the yawning of your desire.

you reach back, hoping to grasp his hands, and your breath hitches when simon willingly returns the gesture. he lets go of your hip, snaking his arms until one of his hands lays atop of yours, the other rubbing at your pebbled nipples.

you moan, a whispery thing, your head thrown back to his shoulder. simon noses your temple, kissing your cheek, and even amidst the silence – the room full of nothing but quiet rasps of air – you feel his reverence.

"so good, baby," he grunts in your ear, the gentle slaps of his thighs meeting the back of yours acting like a muted background noise. "so good to me. so beautiful."

you clench around his length, overwhelmed by the praises rolling off of his tongue. tears trickle from the corners of your eyes, the mewl lodged in the back of your throat transforming into a warbled sob.

"si-"

the whispered drawl of his name is smothered by simon's own call.

a call that isn't your name.

"erin- fuck-" simon rasps out, voice petering into a blissed out hiss. "so tight 'round me, sweetheart. missed this. missed you."

the fiery passion inside you was snuffed out instantly, leaving nothing but cold and stuttering silence to fill you up.

"simon," you say, no tremors and no languid whispers. "stop."

simon does, pulling out without question. you get off the bed, snagging the discarded pieces of your clothes from the floor and rushing to the bathroom without looking back at him.

you hear him ask you what's wrong. you hear him call out your name – something he apparently remembers, anyway – in worry but you ignore him, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you wipe yourself clean and pull your clothes back on.

he's standing by the bed, dressed in only his boxers, when you leave the bathroom. you grab your bag from the loveseat and make your way to the door, ignoring the way he follows you.

"where are y'goin, kid?"

oh. so it's 'kid' this time, huh?

"what's goin' on?" he asks again when you continue to give him silence. "at least jus' tell me if y'r alright."

you slide into your shoes and slip your coat on, feeling winded, your chest heaving as you try your best not to cry, but it is futile. simon curls his hand around your wrist, gentle and tentative, as though showing you that you still have an out.

you breathe in deeply before finally looking back at him, and you don't know what simon sees in your eyes but it makes him straighten up, worry buzzing tenfold.

"i'm not erin, si."

your voice was barely louder than a whisper, still, simon lets you go quickly as though he's been burned.

you leave him then, your nose flaring as the tears prickle the back of your eyes, wanting to be let out.

it is only when you're in the hotel elevator that you finally allow yourself to cry.

this is for @tomiesdiet tbh. blame her!!

[astronnonyy]

Well, now that AvA 11 has put my heart in a wood chipper, let's finally get around to making a post about Chosen's powers! Which I've been meaning to do since I made my post about Dark's powers! Yippee!

(This post will contain no AvA 11 spoilers or screenshots, for the record.) (It is, however, very gif heavy, as a lot of their abilities/the examples I have are best viewed in motion.)

Like the Dark post, this isn't meant to criticize how anyone portrays Chosen's abilities. This is just a reference for what powers they're shown to have in canon, and how they seem to work. With that said, let's get into it.

Unlike Dark, Chosen never got any sort of power boosting/altering item (as of the time of writing, anyways). Their power set is straightforward, and largely consistent throughout the series. Most of the powers they have as of season 3, they've been shown to have had since AvA 2, excluding a handful of one-off abilities I'll make note of at the end.

Starting off with powers they share with Dark, and also their most used power, pyrokinesis. Their pyrokinesis seems to function pretty much identically to Dark's. They can fly, breathe fire, and throw fire as a projectile.

They're also shown setting themselves on fire, usually in a large, explosive blaze, which Dark is not shown doing.

And an interesting note: Chosen (and Dark too) seems to only produce fire from their hands and mouth. This appears to be true largely due to the fact that they only ever use their mouth or hands, even to fly, even when propelling themselves some other way may be more convenient.

I feel I should note here, as I said in the Dark post, that Chosen does not seem to be able to create 'fire bombs'. So far, the only characters shown to have that ability are Dark and Firefox.

They also share the heightened strength and resilience Dark has. Alongside this, Chosen seems to be resistant to deletion, being attacked by both Dark with the V blade, and the Virabots, multiple times, and showing no signs of the deletion that RYGB experienced, or even the physical damage sustained by Orange at Dark's hands.

Getting out of shared abilities, another common power of theirs is their lazer eyes. Able to cut through solid concrete, and the limbs of Virabots. They also seem to have a physical force to them, and can set things on fire.

They also have cryokinesis, the ability to create and control ice. They're able to create truly massive icebergs, and apparently also freeze themselves. Presumably, similarly to how their pyrokinesis seems to work, they likely have a resistance/immunity to freezing, hypothermia, etc as a result of this power, though that is largely speculative on my part.

I've seen people say before that Chosen seems to gain new powers sometimes, and I think they're usually talking about this ability or the next one I'll mention, but they've both been present since AvA 2!

Speaking of, they have... either electricity powers, or some sort of storm manipulation, I'm actually not 100% sure what's going on here.

They're capable of controlling/summoning electricity/lightning, but every time they do it, a storm cloud also forms. So... /shrug. Make of that what you will, I guess.

This ability does not seem to give them an immunity to electricity, much like electric eels.

Not totally certain if this counts as a power or not, but I have to make note of the pac-man mouth. What even is this thing (affectionate)

They can eat text, and breathe fire via this mouth. (Though it doesn't seem like the pac-man mouth is required for them to breathe fire, as they don't appear to use it in Wanted or The Box, despite breathing fire multiple times.)

This next part is where I'm gonna list all the powers that Chosen only uses once/a handful of times, and that don't seem to be directly linked to their other abilities in any way.

First up, in AvA 2, they double jump exactly once and never again. Please bring this back it's so unreasonably funny

The rest of their one-off powers come from season 2.

In The Chosen One's Return, they use some kind of golden wave attack to force the Virabot out of control of the PC, and back into a form that they can actually attack (and ultimately defeat). This attack seems to weaken the virus in some way, though it's not entirely clear why.

Also in this episode, we see Chosen create a Wifi portal for the first time. Some kind of white light appears, before the portal opens up under their hand. It's unclear if this is an ability unique to Chosen or not, but we also don't see them do this again after this moment.

And finally, in The Flashback, twice during the fight with Dark in their workshop, Chosen throws a punch that's surrounded by a swirling white light of some sort. It's very unclear what this is, or what it does exactly.

Good lord Chosen has a lot of powers. I guess they live up to their name??

I might make another post like this for Orange at some point, though I have a hunch that that would end up being outdated pretty quickly. Will probably do it anyways tho, if just for the sake of completing the set. That'd end up being a Lot of speculation tho, so...

[sordidmusings]

Thirsty Thursday with Pissed Off Buggy

A/N: Since I've felt like the Buggy I've been writing has been leaning more consistently towards sub, I wanted to spend some time with dom Buggy. Gotta get the best of both worlds! I'll eventually spend time writing him as a softer dom but my brain said "no make him fuckin ruthless" so this happened lol should work for either anime or live action

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: afab!reader, NSFW like a lot, has like lightly angsty peripheral plot (a misunderstanding has Buggy in a jealous rage), pretty strong degradation, overstimulation, p in v, rough treatment, he technically steps on you, creampie, dub-con if you squint? (boundaries neared but none crossed), slight dumbification, holy shit that sounds like a lot written out like that 🧍🏻‍♀️

Well, soups on! Enjoy the meal lol

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Can’t!” you gasped out, “Too -aaah- much, ‘s too much.”

“Too damn bad. Now shut the fuck up,” Buggy snarled from behind you, where he kept his fast and forceful thrusts going. Each impact seemed to rattle through your whole body, and there was no reprieve from his thick dick splitting you open, even though he pulled far enough back for only his head to stay in you each time. He’s been at this for awhile now, the friction long since turned from sparks on kindling to rabid flames burning through all of your senses. The heart of the blaze was still strongly centered in your endlessly clenching cunt and swollen clit, kept alive by the rub of his cock and the slap of his balls on every thrust in.

“B-but Buggyyyy,” you whined, long and pathetic, struggling to get the words out after yet another orgasm wrung out your body. You couldn’t focus enough to keep from drooling on the desk below you, let alone find the words to placate him.

“I said,” he hissed, gloved fingers of a detached hand digging into your cheeks and jaw, “shut. UP.”

Those fingers dragged painfully across your skin before shoving their way into your mouth. You gagged hard when they pressed on the back of your tongue, but it only rewarded Buggy with your body bucking frantically against him. Your movements couldn’t get you very far, not with the way one of his detached, booted feet stepped down between your shoulder blades, pinning your chest so hard that you couldn’t fully inhale.

“Muuuuch better,” he taunted snidely. “That mouth is better full don’t you think? Keeps your dumb whore lips from seducing other men.” 

You cried around his fingers at the accusation, needing him to know it wasn’t true. In his bid to grasp and control every part of you he could, he’s taken from you any way that you could reassure him.

Everything was so fuzzy and blended together. The onslaught of pleasure from his pounding hips and crushing hold, the lack of oxygen making your body tingle and mind fray, and the raging emotions of hurt and want storming together through you. You clung desperately to the fabric of your mind to endure it while the gales gripped you and tugged in every direction.

Buggy’s mind was already lost. He had let it go the moment he'd seen you trail a hand up that man’s chest and lead it behind his head to play with his baby hairs. Buggy knew what every detail of that felt like, how good it felt, and he was ready to start ripping everything around him apart because only he was allowed to feel that. Only him.

Now he is only instinct and impulse and all of it is bent on owning every piece of you. He’s split apart, pushing, shoving, grasping, and pinning every inch of you to keep you to himself. His whole being was insistent against you but nothing more so than his thick cock, which had bullied you into overstimulation for what felt like hours. Untethered from both feet, Buggy was free to use any angle or force that he wanted. Your body tried its best to take and process what he was doing to you, but it had quickly given up, leaving you limp and drooling under him. Seeing your full submission to him had a bolt of lightning shred through him. This is what he needs. He needs you to fold to the fact that you’re his - his to know and touch and fuck and own. Buggy needed to possess you and he needed to hoard your affection the most. You gave it to him and the thought that you might take it back had him violent in the need to defend his position with you.

After holding out through your endless milking of his cock, Buggy was starting to lose the battle to keep fucking you for eternity. He tried to hide it but he was trembling under the pressure of his oncoming orgasm. His thighs shook through every slam into you, his fingers in your hair and on your tongue were jerking in their grip, and his cock and balls throbbed so hard that he was sure you’d be able to feel it on your skin if you weren’t fucked so dumb.

“If I fuck you full will that keep you happy, little slut?” He sneered. You moaned loud around his fingers, sucking and swallowing for him. “That was it huh? My cocksleeve wasn’t getting enough use, so it was stupid enough to think SOMEONE ELSE could fuck it.” The way he broke into a yell was slightly terrifying but you couldn't deny that it had you gripping him like a vice. The delicious feeling had him fall onto his elbows above you.

“Fuck -hah- you’re so fucking stupid,” Buggy barked. His rage was palpable but you knew him well enough to hear the traces of hurt underneath. 

His foot had moved from your back to press the side of your head down so that he could take its place. He kept switching between mean bites and sucking marks and pressing his forehead hard into your spine, smearing the remnants of his makeup on you. Despite the rough behavior, there was some comfort in having more of his touch blazing over you. 

His hips finally began to falter.

“Gonna fuck you full of me and never leave you empty -shit- you’re gonna have to walk everywhere with my cock plugged in you now.” With each phrase, Buggy was panting more, lost in the idea of never leaving your pussy. “Any time you so much as look at anyone else I’ll press so deep in you it hurts,” he promised darkly. “I don’t care who the fuck is around, I’ll fuck you ‘til you’re screaming and crying for me, understand?”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth for you to sob out a “yes” before shoving them right back in.

“Good whore, good -hunnngh- good fucking whore,” Buggy groaned, punching each word into you with a strong clap of his hips on your ass. His arms slid to wrap around you without him telling them to and he knew he was done for. He growls out, “You better cum as a thank you, slut” before he bit into the meat of your shoulder hard. 

You had absolutely no power or will to disobey him. Even with how swollen and sore you were, the orgasm was blissful and warm and everything you wanted. It peaked over all the others he’d forced from you tonight due to the strong grinds of his flicking cock into you. They turned the near painful abuse of your cervix into a delicious rub that kept your clit throbbing and your hips twitching and jerking. Your eyes had long since rolled back and you were screaming loud enough for it to escape the room, even with your stuffed mouth. You were so lost in your own bliss that you hardly registered the death grip Buggy had on you or the way he kept groaning deeply into your shoulder.

Buggy’s teeth let you go and his hand finally left your mouth for good, letting you gasp in air that had your overworked body prickling with static. Though enough time passed for him to finish wiping all the tears off your face, Buggy stayed hidden in the nape of your neck.

The moment you had enough oxygen in you, you pant out, “Don't want him. Was just info- getting info. Only want you.” He held you a touch tighter. “Promise, promise.”

Still too raw and unsure to say anything, Buggy responded by placing a kiss to the angry impression his teeth had left on you. It was a start.

[sonicgirlsmackdown]

Sonic Girl Smackdown Official Bracket!

102 will enter, but only 1 can leave!

Matchups below the cut, and round one will begin sometime soon!

Breezie the Hedgehog & Relic the Pika

Nicole the Holo-Lynx & Lupe the Wolf

Dulcy the Dragon & Thunderbolt the Chinchilla

Bunnie Rabbot & Matilda the Armadillo

Clove the Pronghorn & Nephthys the Vulture

Sally Acorn & Conquering Storm the Lynx

Fiona Fox & Julie-su

Mina Mongoose & Gold the Tenrec

Cassia the Pronghorn & Echo the Dolphin

Pearly the Manta Ray & Abyss the Squid

Sonar the Fennec & Coral the Betta

Opal the Jellyfish & Bernadette Hedgehog

Rosy the Rascal & Merna the Merhog

Jian the Tiger & Bunker the Tortoise

Cinder the Pheasant & Carrotia the Rabbit

Princess Undina & Rosie the Woodchuck

Hope Kintobor & The Iron Queen

Metal Amy & Phage

Blade the Shark & Nic the Weasel

Lara-su & [winner of Blade v. Nic]

Whisper the Wolf & Lumina

Blaze the Cat & Tikal the Echidna

The End & Shahra

Tekno the Canary & Squad Commander Red

Tiara Boobowski & [winner of Helen v. Black Rose]

Amy Rose & Vanilla the Rabbit

Avatar & Scarlet Garcia

Rebel Rouge & Thorn Rose

Momma Robotnik & Lady Goat

Lah & Rachel

Surge the Tenrec & Topaz

Queen Aleena & Rusty Rose

Witchcart & Maddie Wachowski

Sticks the Badger & Sage the AI

Cream the Rabbit & Wave the Swallow

Lindsey Thorndyke & Zeena the Zeti

Molly & Sonia the Hedgehog

Honey the Cat & Belle the Tinkerer

Princess Elise the Third & Knuckles the Echidna

Frances & Jewel the Beetle

Sara/Seira & Nimue

Merlina & Tangle the Lemur

Shade the Echidna & Lanolin the Sheep

Prim Rouge & Maria Robotnik

Perci the Bandicoot & Sir Percival

Helen & Black Rose

Marine the Raccoon & Rouge the Bat

Cosmo the Seedrian & Amy Doll

Claire Voyance & Ella

Zooey the Fox & Jojo

Ebony & Batten Rouge

Lady Walrus & Mrs. Vandersnout

[katz-chow]

my first time requesting im sorry if it sounds really bad or cringe ehehsbbejrr

how do you think Simon would react to someone who has a seashell collection they are v e r y overprotective of and they give him one of the seashells because they trust him???

selling seashells by the seashore? nope!

synopsis: what the ask said! + a bit more because i started to really get into it

warnings: fluff, sfw, gn! reader, established relationship, marriage, a glimpse into simon's private life, soap being soap

a/n: i’m literally on an island rn and i’m pretty sure this seagull is screaming at me so i thought this would be very fitting 😝

Simon definitely has his pockets filled, only with Moroccan sand and shells and rocks and…possibly a starfish? It’s not much, but truly it’s honest work when it comes to him picking up and inspecting every shell or sea cookie there is out here on this damn beach. Soap hollers at him from a few yards away, hand beckoning for him to come over.

“Ain’t this one a big ol' Lad?” Johnny says with his hand on his hip and the other pointing down at a huge mollusk, it’s opal and rainbowed color shone in the blazing sun.

The taller one smiled behind his mask and grunted as his knees popped, reaching down to pick it up. With a knife, he poked and prodded into whatever was in it, which was now just a dead, sandy mess at his feet. “Pretty, then again, anything prettier than your face, Johnny.”

Soap glared at him, “Yeah, at least I have a face.”

Simon missed you terribly. Miles and miles away, he just thinks about how his lovely spouse is on their daily walk down the beach, trading and finding pretty shells to show him once he gets back. You two do this every time he comes home. After a few days of resting (with mostly Simon either shutting off in his own room or hiding his face in the crook of your neck in your shared room), you sit him down on the kitchen table and pull out your beach bag to debrief about the new shells. Each one with a different story attached to it and each one you wanted to share and love.

“I got this one from a fisherman that caught it in his net when he went fishing in the Bahamas!” You showed him a huge, pink and white conch shell that was larger than both your hands combined.

Simon smiled at you and took your prized possession from your hands and inspected the shiny finishing of it. “You weren’t at the Bahamas, Lovie, what did you do to get it?”

“Oh I traded a hermit crab shell for his nephew’s crab.” You said fondly, petting the shell that looked normal sized in his own hands.

Simon pockets the large nautilus shell into his bag somewhere and feels his breast pocket for the small, spiral shell that you’ve gifted him. It was his birthday, the day you saw his toothy grin for the first time.

You had found a beautiful, black, spiral shell the size of a blade. Taking it home, you filed the tip into it was sharp enough to cut through…something, you thought. You don’t know what he exactly would cut, but it’ll come in handy right?

He cried that day when you sheepishly offered him this small gift box, a silver bow resting on the top of it. After you calmed him down and held onto his arm, he opened it and a goofy smile replaced his tears.

“I sharpened it, it’s like a…like uhm a shank?” You said, rather confused actually.

Your husband snorts at your reasoning and picks up the lustrous black shell into his hands. He examines it closely, spinning and turning it in his fingers to make it shine in different angles. With the hard padding of his index finger he grazed the tip of the shell, and sure enough, it was sharp. Simon huffs a laugh to himself thinking about how he could potentially use this as his next melee weapon.

“Do you…like it?” You ask him hesitantly, sitting across from him on the couch. Your own hand fidgeted with each other as you pull and push on your knuckles, making them pop gently.

The large man in front of you looks up at you, eyes a bit wide in confusion. A small gasp is heard from the parting of his lips and he softens his gaze, looking at you fully. He didn’t laugh at you, he laughed at himself. “It’s silly…to be killed with a seashell, hmm?”

Large hands found yours as he abandoned the shell temporarily on the safe coffee table. He kisses your forehead. “Of course I love it, my sea star…best gift ever.”

Simon knew that it wasn’t just a gift from his spouse that day. No that’d be too simple, and his life is anything but. That was a piece of you, your love for him manifesting in such a small, delicate object. To break it, was to break a piece of you…and you would raise hell if he did.

His face settled on a slightly less disgruntled face under his mask as he looked off into the coast. With a pat on the breast pocket of his vest, he pondered to himself, ‘This time, it’ll be different.’ This time he has his own collection to present to you. This time he knows you’ll be even more excited than that time you found a perfectly round sand dollar when he shows you these little treasures. Maybe this time you’ll even scream when he shows you this dried starfish.

But one thing’s for sure, he’ll come home to you after all this. And one day, there’ll be no more war, no more bloodshed, just two old spouses sitting on the beach, the sun rising steadily, and a wall of shells from coasts all around the world.

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Mortuarius - Chapter V

Watcher's eyes flicker with both anticipation and nerves as he carefully attaches the necessary wires, fastening the small, unmarked gemstone to the host body’s spine. He slowly wraps the belts around the column, making sure to tighten them between the vertebrae for the most stability. The polished Shivada Jade shines with promise in the yellowish light of his workshop. 

“I have secured the Delusion to the vessel. Inserting core module, now.” He opens a small belt pouch with his off hand and draws a small, purple crystal from within. 

The skeleton can sense the restlessness of his subordinate’s soul secured within. With a smooth movement he inserts it into the metal frame of the core, stapled to the solar plexus from within. Almost instantly upon unlocking the safety lock it spasms, its eyes blazing with white light. 

Watcher takes a step back, allowing the other liche to slowly rise into a sitting position, and then stand up. 

“I report the mobility to be in order, master.” She flicks her wrists, jumps up and continues to perform test stretches as she speaks. 

“Good.” Within the corner of his eye Watcher spots his assistant, diligently noting every occurrence and procedure. He takes a step back for safety, giving the experiment more area. “Testing Necro conduction.” The female liche stretches out her arm and snaps her fingers. Where a part of the room was once visible, now, in her palm, was a small void - a spot of necrotic energy. She extinguishes it and summons it once more before slashing her hand at an empty wall. A thin, blade-like wave of Necro shoots out and clashes harmlessly against the thick stone. “Necro conduction - check.” 

The assistant notes, and Watcher nods. “Proceed.” “Testing elemental conduction of the Delusion.” She focuses again, only showing with a light flicker of her irises. Slowly, Cryo energy starts to cover her hand with white frost.

Suddenly, a loud crack and a white flash fill the room. Everybody steps back as the researcher’s hand violently cracks, sending arcs of Necro flying through her vessel, sending it into spasms. After a few blinks of their long-gone eyes the skeleton falls limp on the floor, its right arm thoroughly fried by the energy. 

Disappointment is thick in the air. 

“Test failed.” Watcher approaches the remains and, using his ivory cane, turns it over to get a better angle on the limb. It’s cracked all over, the radius is broken, the wires holding the hand in shape have all but melted, scattering the smaller bones all across the floor. The entire construct is a mass of charred bone and melted copper wires. There is no light in the eye sockets of the skeleton. “It appears that, no matter the materials, wiring cannot be used to transfer main elements.” He aims his cane at the left side of the burnt ribcage and strikes it, continuing until the bones give out. Gently, Watcher turns the remnants to uncover the core which, much to his positive surprise, is still intact. The undamaged soul stone within shines with purple light. Watcher leans down and, making sure to avoid contact with anything but the lid, cracks it open. The isolation wires within have melted, protecting the gemstone.  “It seems that the core survived. As stated the wiring has melted, closing the conduit. Congratulations to the Engineering Board.” Watcher stands up and turns back towards his human assistant. Their face is almost as pale as his polished bones. “However this failure concludes our tests.” The mortal scribbles it down, and then looks back up at him. “What should I write in the commentary, master?” Watcher gathers his thoughts and answers in a cold, almost resigned tone. “Write verbatim: With our current means and considering the necessities of a combat-ready design, I conclude that Delusions cannot be adapted to be utilized by vessels at the moment.” The man nods and Watcher turns around to the other members of his team. “Clean the chamber and return Daria to her original vessel. We are done here.” Without another word, he heads for the exit, his subordinates parting before him. Watcher wastes no time and upon leaving the test chamber he turns right and takes off towards the storage room. There was work waiting for him. He requested the quartermasters responsible for managing looted Delusions to provide him with a selection of those that seemed to be altered. Perhaps, he hoped, they could trace those back to their owners who would know how to modify them, and to know how to modify them they would have to know how they worked in the first place. 

But the Fatui were tight-fisted with their secrets. The ordinary soldier had no idea how his regular equipment functioned - Umbra had to search for technicians specifically to simply know what kind of gunpowder they were using. Finding someone who took part in manufacturing Delusions - true Delusions, not the rudimentary trash that is being sold to Watatsumi Island - would be a greater challenge for certain, but one that must be tackled. These fake Visions, although inferior to their natural counterparts, were an immense asset for the Fatui. Their holders didn’t have to be granted the Gods’ favor, research for decades or bind their soul to a Bearer and risk oblivion to become elemental wielders. Such a feat could, for the moment, only be achieved by a handful of liches that have devoted their afterlives to just that goal. Their numbers were miniscule and the amount of elemental affinity they possessed was only on-par with basic Delusions, making them a little more than worthless. 

However long it took, however many Fatui they had to kill, torture, bribe or imprison, The Great One would one day be presented with the schematics, thoroughly soaked in blood of Tsarica’s marionettes. 

The sight of his destination takes him out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand. The guard by the door salutes Watcher as he enters, placing his right arm on his chestplate with the fist tightened. The liche doesn’t bother to acknowledge this gesture - the sentry is not sentient anyway. 

The room is well lit with the yellow light customary for Umbra. Along the smooth stone brick walls are many shelves, heavy with various boxes and crates. Within them was everything that has been recently looted during operations in the mainland or acquired in another way and brought to Umbra on demand. He rummages around his pockets and retrieves a slip of paper, the symbols “E43” written on it with black ink. He quickly looks over the numbers on the shelf labeled with the matching letter and soon finds a medium, wooden box numbered forty-three. Watcher carries it over to the work desk, currently vacant, cracks the container open and gets to work. 

Inside the box are more boxes, this time made of cardboard. Watcher picks one at random and pulls it out. He draws a cutter from the nearby rack and makes quick work of the tape keeping it closed. A handwritten note is revealed to him - authored by the undead he asked to obtain these Delusions. 

This particular one, as stated in the tag, contains unusual colorations on the gemstone. Watcher reaches inside the storage and picks up the stone in question, bringing it up towards the lamps on the ceiling. The light shining through the purple rock does indeed reveal a shimmering, soft green spot within. He turns it around on various sides and, much to his disappointment, finds the shape to be round - perfectly natural. Such gemstones are those that happen to become polluted with the energy of another element, thus becoming an eye-catching-but-useless crafting material.

He tosses it back into the box and reaches for the next package. 

The note states the Delusion contained within gives off unusual readings. 

Very helpful, he thinks as he discards the tag and takes the contents of the box into his hand. Watcher focuses, the world around him soon becoming vibrant with elemental marks of the objects around him. On the gray backdrop of his iron table, the Delusion’s Varunada Lazurite shines a deep blue color… except for one, small line within. 

If his eyebrows were still there, one would certainly be raised now. 

A closer examination reveals the line to resemble a spike - it is thin towards the middle, getting progressively wider as it nears the stone’s outer layer. The decorative casing blocks it from sight, so it is quickly removed as curiosity pulses through his core. 

Indeed, there is a small dot of Electro on the outside. It’s unnaturally blocky for simple pollution to be the case. He clears his mind to return his sight to normal. There is no color gradient around the Electro intrusion, proving that it was everything but natural. 

A modification. A different gemstone has been inserted into the Delusion. The intrusion would surely result in the wielder being electrocuted upon usage, but the effects of the change matter not - he has a lead, something he desired for a time longer than he would like. 

The Watcher turns his attention back to the paper. He skims over the various technical data down to the reported owner of the stone. 

“Alnico Snezhevich.” He mutters with satisfaction. 

Not a moment passes until the name is penned on an order sheet and placed into an envelope. Watcher rips off the protective seal and presses it together, securing the order inside. He calls an assistant. 

The liche taps his skeletal fingers on the desk as he awaits response. Now that moments have passed, his rare excitement gives way to his usual, sad realism. After all, the majority of these Delusions were orphaned after their owners’ untimely and assisted demise. Sending out whole teams specifically to capture these items would be a waste of resources. Besides, killing and capturing were two different matters entirely, with the latter carrying significantly higher risk. They tried it before, only to find that the average user has as much idea about how it works as a flash-risen skeleton has about necromancy. The Fatui kept their secret in a tight fist. 

But if The Great One demands so, then his will shall be done, even if it means breaking that fist and prying the designs from Fatui's cold, dead hands. 

The skeleton comes in and Watcher passes him the note without sparing a glance. That pawn was only one of many potential leads.

As he turns back to his desk, the order leaves the room in the envoy's hand. 

It travels through the brightly lit, cold corridors of the Department of Engineering. It passes between rushing secretaries, strolling officers and various members of the general staff manning the polished stone walls of the building. It is left on a desk when it will be passed down the command chain to the grim undertakers in the field. The journey is interrupted, however, by an unfamiliar, solid hand. A glance at the signature on the envelope decides its fate. On quick feet, the officer makes his way further down the corridor and knocks on a heavy, mahogany door. 

“Come in.” The voice from within beckons. 

The officer straightens out his bandages and opens the door. Through the choking gauze covering his redundant eyes he can see the set up of cards that occupies the dark desk, the centerpiece of his superior's office. Three figures clad in Adarian uniforms stare up at him with palpable irritation at the sudden interruption of their game, each holding their hand of cards. The soldier turns back to the black-clad skeleton before him. The letter is discreetly exchanged for a small pouch without delay, followed by a salute and the younger undead’s departure. 

Waltz closes the door and turns around to face the room. 

“Forgive me, gentlemen, for the disruption.” Waltz reads the signature on the order and takes his place back by the table. “But it seems that somebody's working overtime today.” 

He shows his colleagues the sender. The name sends murmurs of curiosity through the room. Waltz requests a blade with a motion of the hand, and is soon thrown a dedicated letter opener. 

The officer takes a moment to examine the item. The blade has recently been sharpened, evident by the small, black dust still sticking to the edge. On the metal, bright silver from careful polishing, Waltz can see his expressionless skull. Golden lining guides the metal into a hilt crafted out of some animal’s horn. 

Waltz hums in approval. It's almost a shame to use such a fine item for something as mundane as cutting paper, but alas - it is its function. After a theatrical clearing of his long-gone throat, he reads out loud. 

“Institute order. High priority. Capture of Alnico Snezhevich. Effective immediately.”

His card partner, an elder liche by the name of Radny, scoffs. “Does The Librarian have nothing better to do nowadays than chasing orphans?”

An unliving contradiction - that's what he was. Radny, unlike many of his peers, somehow managed to hold off the inevitable erosion that plagued the older castes of Umbra. Liches of his age usually preferred to retreat to their study and read - or simply meditate to pass time, but he was different. One could say that his death was his second youth, filled with risk, betting, bowling, cards and other forms of entertainment unfitting his veterancy. It was Radny that organized these evenings of whist and gossip, and it was he who allowed Waltz to comfortably weave his own web of connections in the Commission. 

For that, he was grateful. Or he would be if these weren't as frequent and as necessary for paving his path up the chain of command. Yet, as they say, you ought to hate the game, not the player. 

Titus, the bandage wrapped Head of Ground Operations, chimes in. “Perhaps he ran out of whims of the Fly Lord to attend to, like the pusher he is. Too bad daddy can't get him any higher.”

Waltz nods his head in approval. Unlike in the favoriting Sunqian Institute of Progress, The Adarian State Commission valued those whose skills and value went beyond that of mere entertainment for its patron. Unlike Adarū, the Fly Lord seemed to care more for amusement than any major development for the cause as a whole - aside from the projects that he personally took an interest in. Those at the top were either used in forwarding his current interests or were nothing more than playthings - after all, Sunqū was known to be a capricious entity, giving out his favor to only those that could beg pathetically enough to make his ancient spirit flicker with an imperceivable smile.

This corruption - if befitting the patron of disease - made a mockery of the Institute in his eyes. Logically, the higher the rank, the bigger the competences of the individual. But unlike his own patron, Sunqū was egotistically focused on his vision of history. The Commission was gathering resources which the Institute was wasting. 

Whatever value this Alnico had, it would certainly be better utilized by Adarū to actually forward the Dethroning instead of being used on a whim and discarded afterwards. 

“And why would Watcher even need this mortal for?” Titus continues. “There's nothing they can do that we can't.”

“Except for Delusions, that is.” Radny adds. 

Titus nods. Quartermaster Sobek, occupying the fourth seat by the table, shakes his head and scoffs.

“And tell me would we even need those in the first place, why don't you?” Sobek collects the cards scattered on the table and begins shuffling them with a gambler’s agility. “We could invest our time and resources into something more worthwhile. Portal technology to name just one.” “If, my friends, the command wants Delusions, then it is reason enough for us to seek them out.” Waltz twirls the letter opener in his hand. “You do not bite the hand that pays.” “Yeah. I suppose so.” Sobek mutters. Waltz’s hand closes around the knife a little tighter as he hears the approval. 

A slacker - that’s who Sobek was. But it wasn’t surprising considering that he was a Sumerian - a man of the desert. What a shame he was good at managing the corps. If Waltz was in charge, he’d certainly dispose of the camel jockey - simply for having been a mercenary. He didn’t quite understand how so much trust and responsibility can be placed into such greedy and visionless hands. His destiny was coin, his deity - the employer. Even despite Sobek’s multi-decade service, Waltz never pushed past his suspicions. 

Partly because he was disgusting - in the physical sense. As many former Sumerians, and especially followers of Deshret (a lesser, desert dwelling idol as Waltz would come to learn), he too decided on preserving his body in a traditional way, thus becoming a mummy. Not really a fan of being a walking museum exhibit, Waltz did appreciate the decency of his Commission peers to cover their disgusting, shriveled features with tight bindings - a kindness that the likes of Sobek did not grant him. Whenever he looked at the undead, Waltz would feel the habitual memory of his lips twisting into a frown of contempt. 

These creatures really did deserve the nickname of “dirty”. 

“Anyway, does the name ring any bells?” Waltz asks, making sure to keep his features sympathetic - even towards the Quartermaster. 

Sobek, having finished shuffling the deck, begins dealing the cards. 

“It does. Recently the Liyue units of Fatui were ordered to capture an individual of the same name, alive. He’s a deserter.” Titus explains, taking his thirteen-card hand. “He made quite a fuss when he left. Almost every order from Liyue contains some mention of him.” The trump card is placed on the table. Three of hearts. “And what’s the reason behind this interest in him? It’s not often you see them so hellbent on recovering a deserter of all people.” Radny plays an ace of hearts. Responding, Titus draws two of clovers. “Allegedly he served under a different Harbinger. From the documents we have we learned that he doesn’t have Tartaglia’s number on his identification. Instead, he has that of the Marionette.”

“Maybe he’s an engineer then?” Sobek plays four of diamonds. “As far as I remember, the seventh has an obsession with electronic junk. If he is a high ranking one at that, then it would make sense for him to be this important.” Seeing as the trick has already been won by his partner, Waltz places down two of hearts. Radny reaches out and scoops up the set, placing it in a neat pile on his left. Another trick begins. “Titus, do you happen to have any leftover paperwork regarding Alnico that I could review?” Waltz asks. 

The other undead nods in agreement. “Yes, but we have only a few raw reports back at the archives. I will have a compilation delivered to you in a few hours. Alnico has been mentioned a few times in order notes, so we can make a solid timeline of where he was at the time of these being sent out.” “Wonderful.” The general’s head tilts in curiosity. “And where did you get them from?”

“See, Felix...” Radny chimes in. “The Fatui have a tendency to, shall we say, keep less than ideal stock of the stuff they deem unimportant. So much so that an original can get accidentally picked up by a random archives worker who accidentally loses it the next day in a previously set location for someone else to accidentally stumble upon.” 

Not surprising, Waltz thinks, considering rank-and-file Fatui belong to one of the most corrupt mortals to walk Teyvat. Even a small amount of Mora can convince them to work with Umbra’s proxy agents. And so the Fatui leak information like a sinking boat, feeding the Commission’s ever swelling archives. 

“I’ll send out the order. As soon as we finish, of course.” Titus smiles. 

“That’s right!” Sobek slaps Titus on the back in a friendly, yet brutish gesture. “Might as well get your money out now boys. You’ve got no chance.”

Radny chuckles in condescending amusement, effectively hiding Waltz’s scoff. His eyes gleam with a gambler’s thrill. 

“You wish, meatbag.”

—

The door is opened by an attendant. A tall figure clad in black marches into the room, his tall boots clicking rhythmically on the marble floor. 

“Ah. There you are, brother.” The ethereal presence of Sunqū greets him. Now back in his usual wear, he makes a wide gesture with his skeletal hand. “Make yourself at home. The show will begin momentarily.”

Pain makes his way deeper into the surgical theater, taking the form of a ring-like structure, snaking around the tall walls of the operation room. Through a thick Venetian mirror, hiding the tribune, nearly a hundred students and professors could observe as the procedure unfolds, both the patient and the surgeons unable to escape their scrutiny. Even the smallest incision and the thinnest of blood vessels would be visible, even from this distance. 

Yet, despite the white-clad surgeons preparing their tools, the audience’s seats were empty. Only Plague and Pain stood above the good doctors. This would be no mere operation, no - it would be a proof of concept. 

Adarū takes off his hat and puts it up on one of the empty clothes hangers. A brief moment of silence passes as he gathers his thoughts. 

Standing over the auditorium, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Any news from Inazuma?” 

“No, not really.” Plague responds plainly, his empty eyes still fixed on the table below. “How so? Have you not just sent an expedition there?” 

“How foolish of you” - he turns his beaked head to face Adarū - “to think I would risk him just for an opportunity to get you an update.”

“Don’t you care for this chance?” Their empty gazes meet. “Or has your wisdom already fallen victim to your folly?”

Plague scoffs. “I do. But we have time. Don’t you know the saying ‘haste makes waste’?”

“Brother, we do not have the time you’re thinking of here.” Pain’s voice raises up in volume, heavy with sternness. “If I were to share your laid back perception of time, the war would have come and gone without us knowing.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, you.” 

The condescending look of his older colleague sends a wave of sharp, ripping pain through Adarū’s soul. His figure remains as still as stone, yet the energy within threatens to lash out in every moment. His bandaged hand trembles as the only sign of the internal battle for self control, his unwilling host wild with emotion and eager to express it. Yet his inhuman resolve remains and before long he stomps out the resistance. 

“Problems with your symbiote, Adarū?” His crooked, bloody teeth show, a mimicry of the human smile.  

“She serves her purpose. Now,” the uniform clad Bearer clicks his heels firmly, “if you do not bear news, why have you called me here? My time is limited. Do not jest, get to the point.”

“The reason I have called you here, brother” - he stretches the word mockingly - “is to prove to you that my creation is immaculate. That it is exactly what you need for a breakthrough on the islands. He will be an extension of your will, and you shall soon see that his design is a proof of perfection.”

Plague snaps his fingers, and right then, the doors to the room beneath swing open and a young man is brought in. His anger sizzles down, souls stabilizing as he shifts his attention to the newcomer. 

Accompanied by The Watcher is a tall human, seemingly Umbrian of origin, his skin barely warmer in color than snow. The sharp, youthful features of his face stand out from the uninteresting set of clothing adorning his body. A well defined jawline accentuates the high cheekbones, giving the immortal the pleasant sight of objective symmetry. One of his eyes is wrapped tightly in pristine bandages, just barely starting to leak blood from the plainly recent injury, the other’s gray iris betraying a certain sense of distrust towards the doctors. For a man as young as him, the graying brown of his hair strikes Adarū as unusual. 

“Sakurai Denki.” Pain mutters quietly, appraising his recruit-to-be. “His vessel appears young.”

Plague nods. “Yes, and so is his soul - merely two decades old. But do not think that his age results in naivete or foolishness. He has seen the worst of fate and perished at its hand. The perfect candidate. But, dear brother, observe now the primary advantage Denki will net us.”

Below, the experiment is now presented with a set of new clothes. Watcher gestures at him, imploring Pain to listen in to the whispers of his soul. 

Do change your clothes before we begin, he says. Hygiene is important. 

In response, Denki glances around nervously. Watcher shows him to a curtained off area of the theater - one shielded from the doctor’s sight, but not from the audience’s. As expected, his body is fittingly flawless underneath the fabric - the image of the perfect man, likely derived from some fresco or painting. The image is disturbed by a series of thin, white scars littering his back.

Plague hums to himself. “I don’t remember them being here before.”

However something else catches Adarū’s eye. He focuses his sight, piercing through the room with Elemental Vision. The figures of undead pulse with darkness radiating through their wires, formind strange, humanoid patterns against their gray silhouettes with a concentrated point in their chest - the core. Denki, however, remains as colorless as the tiles and the walls of the room, perfectly sterile of the Necro traces present in undead. 

“Well done.” A nod of approval. “If my eyes don’t deceive me, it seems that the boy is undetectable.”

The other turns his head proudly. “That he is. But there is more.”

The Watcher guides Denki to the operating table. Unlike most of those housed in buildings of the Institute, this one was padded, appearing comfortable even. The only thing corrupting the image were the leather straps hanging loosely off the device, which Denki is promptly assured won’t be necessary. 

Silence fills the room, allowing Pain’s attention to drift fully towards the scene underneath him. The liche continues speaking as the doctors hustle and bustle about, exchanging hands for sterilized ones and carrying out every other, mundane procedure. The operation ahead will help Denki, Watcher assures, will let him see again. 

The black clad figure doesn’t leave the mortal’s side as another walks up and cuts through the bandage with slow, careful movements. They remove the fabric, revealing a mess of raw flesh and blood diluted with tears. A lengthy, clean cut goes through his eyehole, leaving the skin somewhat uninjured but mangling what was once the man’s eye. The white is completely turned crimson red, swollen with blood that’s hastily dripping from the canyon separating his eye in half. The cut went straight through the iris, which was now leaking into the sclera like egg yolk. More blood and clear fluid seeped from the jagged cornea.  

 Denki hisses as it’s pulled off, hands instinctively locking over the armrests. As he blinks on reflex, he whines in agony. Curiously, the eyelid has, too, been separated in half, a significant part of it hanging on by a mere thread of flesh. Each closing of the eye seems to force sharp breaths out of the man. 

We will need to remove the eye. Watcher’s words make Denki’s remaining eye shoot open in concern. A few nervous questions fly towards the liche - will it hurt, does it have to be this way, why… A surgeon draws a small pair of forceps. 

Adarū’s soul pulses with anticipation as they are drawn closer to the eye. Bone fingers force Denki’s eyelids open. His perfect sigh marvels at the instrument’s reflection in the remnants of the separated pupil, the tool just seconds away from being forced into his skull and-

The tool clatters to the floor along with the hand holding it as sparks of Necro energy fly across the room. Before the surgeon can back away and out of range, Denki slashes his hand across their torso, letting out elemental energy that vaporizes bone and cloth. The remnants clutter to the floor, no longer held together by the fragmented core. With gritted teeth stained by blood pouring from his eye, Denki turns his attention to the other skeletons. Watcher backs away, looking puzzled towards the two bearers, awaiting orders. Plague’s face remains, smiling as the subject raises his hand, blocking the black fire thrown at him by another undead. It burns his skin, chewing through the delicate meat and revealing the muscle below. Denki howls with pain but retaliates still with a devastating kick to the knee. Before the undead can land on the ground Denki snatches his head and, using it to hold the skeleton in place, stomps repeatedly on his chest until the bones turn lifeless. As the last doctor flees the room, only Watcher and Denki remain, face to face. 

The man turns towards the door, but a burst of Cryo flies right by his ear, impacting the handle and freezing the lock in place. Denki stumbles back on reflex and turns his face sharply towards Watcher. 

Get back! He commands, rage twisting his features as he sends a colorless lightning flying towards Watcher who instantly summons an ice shield. The energy bounces off and strikes the wall, sending tile shards flying as it violently explodes on contact. Watcher dashes forward, gathering ice in his off hand as he uses the shield to its fullest. With a deafening crack, Denki sends another lightning, and another, and another, each bouncing in different directions, shattering stone and melting metal where they hit. Unaffected, Watcher steps forward, speaking calming words to no effect. Denki’s attacks grow fiercer and more desperate by the second to no effect as he keeps backing up towards the wall, knocking over equipment trays and vials, trying to get as far from the liche as he can. Watcher remains stone cold and measured in his movements. When he finally stands in the clear, he sends a surge of Cryo at the man’s feet, freezing them to the ceramic floor. Denki shouts in pain and, instead of continuing his attack, fires the lightning at his feet, only to find it bounces off the ice. His attention turns back to Watcher, now standing still before him, shield still in hand. 

Stand down. We need to heal you. Do you want to remain half blind? The questions, although flung with sternness, seem to affect the man. Gradually his rage turns into panic. He starts muttering ‘no’ in a pain-stricken voice, panicking as he tries to free himself. Please. Leave me alone. Please. 

A gloved hand locks onto the pillar before him as Adarū watches, reveling in Denki’s begging. It won’t get him nowhere, he knows that. It’s all the more entertaining, seeing him hold his hands over his throat as grenadiers finally burst through the locked door and move to seize him. With little effort Watcher pries Denki’s hands away from himself, letting the lightning strike harmlessly into the ceiling. The Guardian breaks the ice, releasing Denki’s frosted and raw feet from their confinement. Unable to hold him up, they give in, sending Denki tumbling to the ground. Before his face meets the stone, Watcher catches the man in his grasp. Denki clings to his robes, blood and tears mixing on his face as he begs for the final time. 

Please. 

The guards grab Denki under the shoulders and pull him back. In response to his sobbing, Watcher shakes his head. 

No. 

New doctors arrive through the door as Denki is forced onto the chair. One by one, his wrists and ankles are bound with leather straps, the undead completely indifferent to his distress. A pair of scissors and pliers is selected from the spare instruments. Skeletal hands hold Denki’s head as Watcher places a strap over his neck and forehead, tightening both without a word of consolation. The only thing the mortal can do is plead as surgical hooks are drawn towards him, and wail as they are hooked into his eyelid, pulling the tattered flaps of skin apart. His eye is ripe for the picking. As the metal clamps are forced under and over his eye, the sensitive organ is squished, sending a mix of blood and tears rushing out of the wound. With a firm pull, the eye is dislodged from its socket, connected to his body only by the thick strand of the ocular nerve. 

The doctors pour something into his hollow eye socket. Denki’s breathing is sharp, irregular, his mind barely comprehending the events around him. His screaming grows gradually weaker as his throat fills with blood, raw and torn. He coughs up some of it, the fluid coming out pitch black, barely a tint of red in each droplet. The sharpness of pain radiating from his face has now started to turn into a dull ache, his nerves overwhelmed, white hot with agony. 

Adarū sighs in pleasure as he feels Denki’s soul writhe and twist, the tortured wailing filling his ears feeding his very being.  

A snap of scissors. Denki spits black blood all over his gown. His body rises with convulsions, the fluid now leaking from his nose and his healthy eye. It feels his mouth, throat and lungs, robbing him of breath. Watcher shouts out to his colleagues, immediately lowering the table and unbuckling Denki’s neck. As he is tilted to the side, the contents of his lungs spill out onto the floor. Adarū takes in the vibrant darkness of Necro contained within the stain. 

After that, the boy’s tremors die down. The doctors watch on, anxiously as he simply stops. He goes limp. The strong pulses of excruciating sensation cease emanating from Denki’s soul. 

Pain scoffs in disappointment. “He’s gone into shock... What a shame.”

He takes a deep breath. The host’s memory of a heart throbs senselessly, wild with excitement and pleasure. What a feeling, he thinks. Mortal emotion, experienced with the vessel, not just the soul. He senses something, as if his body was soaked in hot water. Unsure he touches his uniform and bandaged body, finding no trace of either.  He is cold and dry to the touch. 

Adarū lets go of the pillar and takes a stumbling step back.

Plague chuckles, looking at his fellow deity with a smug gaze. “Riveting, I’m sure. It’s been a while since you’ve enjoyed unrequited and genuine agony, has it not?”

He spoke true. Pain wasn’t really interested in pursuing the pleasure of his element, hence his vessel was rarely a physical one. It was undeniable. “The boy suffered greatly.”

“He is strong, brother.” Sunqū replies. “He will think nothing of it, I assure you.” Plague gestures towards the lower ring of the auditorium again. “Observe now, for you’re about to witness the second marvel of his body.”

Adarū turns his attention back to the operating table. The old, battered eye is tossed into a bin as a small box is drawn from a Cryo box. As it is opened, a new, green eye with an ocular nerve is revealed. A surgeon halves the length of the new implant to match the leftover stump, before taking the eye and placing its nerve right against the other. Another applies a few drops of a translucent fluid. Right away, the flesh writhes like tendrils as it grows outwards from the cut, extending itself and latching onto the other. The eye is then placed back into the socket. 

“His body can be repaired. There is no injury, safe for total destruction of the vessel, that we would not be able to revert. Brain, eyes, organs, and entire limbs can be replaced, just like a machine’s parts.” 

Pain, having fixed up his uniform, asks as he continues observing the finishing touches. “And in case of annihilation, can his soul be recovered?”

The doctors dislodge the hooks from Denki’s skull, allowing them to be lifted up alongside the damaged eyelid. With a few careful movements of scissors they are removed. They don’t bleed anymore, much to Adarū’s amusement. From the same box, two fresh eyelids of healthy, peachy skin color are drawn. Just as the nerve, they are quickly fused to the eye using the identical compound. 

“I have a few replacement bodies stored in the freezer. But as for his soul…”

Sunqū reaches into his robe and under his armor, scaring a few roaches out of hiding. He draws a small crystal, stored within a glass tube. 

“Out of all of us, you have the best chance at controlling him. Pain is all he’s known for years.” Pain takes the vial into his hand. Beneath the thin walls of the Soul Crystal floats a tiny point of light. “And I will make sure it remains so, don’t you worry.” Without further ado, Pain crushes the vial and the crystal inside within his grip. The spark flies through his fingers, making soundless spirals in the air as it reaches upwards towards the skies, trapped behind tonnes of stone and iron of Castra. Invisible tendrils of his power encase it in their grasp and pull them towards him. He feels a pulse of sounds, smells, images - memories as his soul absorbs yet another into his collection. 

He can sense his presence. 

“He is mine.” He drops the crystal and glass, scattering it all over the ground. “I appreciate your talents, and promise to use your creation for only fitting purposes.”

“Gladly.” Plague nods, eagerly soaking in the praise. “Do not forget that he is still mine. But rest assured, I won’t hog his time.”

“Of course.”

With that, Adarū turns to retrieve his headpiece from its resting place. He affixes it to his bandage-bound head, pushing the two soft protrusions on its side underneath the cap.” “Have you prepared everything I asked for?” He questions.  “No need to worry. Denki will be ready in two, three months.” “How daring of you. Very well. Just don’t break him this quickly.”

Before Adarū leaves, he casts one last glance at the mortal. His unresponsive body, moved to a stretcher, is carried out of the room.

“Fortune favors the bold, Adarū.”

Thank you for reading.

[whateverthese2havetournament]

2024 Roster Announcement

Alright, let's get this show on the road.

You all gave me plenty to work with, and though time has passed, I haven't forgotten. I have utilized what I believe to be an unbiased system of sorting relevant entries to the top, and I have a list of 32 and 16 for both the "Men's Division" and "Women's Division".

The Men's Division, in no particular order:

Archie and Maxie, Pokemon

Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, Looney Tunes

Professor Pierre Aronnax and Captain Nemo, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

Sicard and Emmanilain, Final Fantasy XIV

Alber Wesker and Chris Redfield, Resident Evil

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid, Criminal Minds

Suguru Geto and Satorou Gojo, Jujutsu Kaisen

Luffy and Zoro, One Piece

Kotetsu T. "Wild Tiger" Kaburagi and Barnaby "Bunny" Brooks Jr., Tiger and Bunny

Yoichi & Kudou, My Hero Academia

Elim Garak and Julian Bashir, Star Trek

Dale Cooper and Harry S. Truman, Twin Peaks

Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha

Composer and Orpheus, Identity V

Eddie Brock and his Symbiote, Venom

Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang, Link Click

Keith and Lance, Voltron

Optimus Prime and Megatron, Transformers

Newt Geiszler and Hermann Gottleib, Pacific Rim

Kim Dokja & Yoo Joonghyuk, Omniscient Reader

Sam and Max

Officer Bailey and That Other Guard, Ghost Trick

Steven Stone and Wallace, Pokemon

Medic and Heavy, Team Fortress 2

Basil and Sunny, OMORI

Ike and Soren, Fire Emblem Path of Radiance

Professor X and Magneto, X-Men

Mercutio and Benvolio, Shakespeare

Stanley and the Narrator, The Stanley Parable

Junkrat and Roadhog, Overwatch

Merlin and Arthur, Merlin

Jessie and James, Pokemon

And the Women's

Madoka Kaname and Akemi Homura, Madoka Magica

Azula, Mai and Ty Lee, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Alice 'Daisy' Tonner and Basira Hussain, The Magnus Archives

Sable Ward and Mikaela Reid, Dead by Daylight

Mina Harker née Murray and Lucy Westenra, Dracula

Xena and Gabrielle, Xena: Warrior Princess

Falin Touden and Marcille Donato, Delicious in Dungeon

Emma Swan and Regina Mills, Once Upon a Time

Ruby Rose and Penny Polendina, RWBY

Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe, Trigun

Daphne Blake and Velma Dinkley, Scooby Doo

Vriska Serket and Terezi Pyrope, Homestuck

Kimura Seiko and Andoh Ruruka, Danganronpa 3

Lucia and Elincia, Fire Emblem Path of Radiance

Yuri and Natuski, Doki Doki Literature Club

Lyn and Florina, Fire Emblem the Blazing Blade

Wowie, what an all-star cast! Videogames, comics, movies, anime, cartoons, classic literature, and more.

So, I'm going to aim to get the ball rolling, let's say October 14th. I'll start with Men's Round 1, then the following week do Women's Round 1, and so on. I will post the actual brackets a bit closer to that date.

In the meantime! If anyone would like to submit any propaganda, images, complaints, objections, or what have you, the ask box will remain open. I know last time had a pretty rocky start, but I am wise for the experience, and I think this time 'round will be even better.

[trlblzd]

THE IMPLICATION THAT THE STELLARON HUNTERS are closely bonded with each other oddly warms their heart. it is easy to be a part of a group that harbors nothing but hatred & abuse. to neglect one's own kin and their kind is ( ... ) something that they have seen happen to more people than they would even LIKE to admit. the taste of betrayal. the sight of broken people who have been shattered by the very same GROUP whom they have trusted their whole soul in. it is something that they would not wish upon anybody else. so when he brings up mundane things, they are given a glimpse into their own stories. what they are. what they likely used to be a part of thanks to his insight. they quiet for a small moment, appreciative of the answers even if its ever so slightly dismissive.

" noted. so rose-scented stuff should appeal to you if i give it, right ? " they do not press on to the information that is NOT welcome for them to know of. if it is something that they are not allowed to find out about, pressing the matter would just make him grow even MORE distant. again, it is already enough said that stelle even got some answers from him. it is best to not push their luck should they want to make him scurry off.

" it seems to me like the great BLADE is not as disinterested to a lot of things as he appears to be. & clearly this must be your off time if you're spending it here rather than, well, ANYWHERE else that might require more urgent attention. "

as  the  questions  came  one  after  the  other,  blade  briefly  broke  his  gaze  away  &  zoned  off  into  the  distance.  REGRET  filled  him  up  slowly  as  he  let  out  a  heavy  breath  of  air.  maybe  he  shouldn’t  have  answered  at  all  ──  now  he  had  to  deal  with  the  consequences  &  the  burst  of  curiosity  radiating  from  the  trailblazer.

❝  i  have  no  preference  for  something  so  insignificant  ──  ❞  he  crossed  his  arms   &  held  his  shard  sword  close  to  him  like  he  always  did.  ❝  [  ...  ]  rose  scented.  ❞  he  managed  to  mutter  out  the  type  of  scent  he  was  using,  seemingly  ironic  given  his  prior  statement  a  few  seconds  ago.

❝  &  elio  makes  the  accommodations.  i  won’t  go  into  any  details  regarding  our  living  conditions.  that  is  not  my  place,  nor  should  it  concern  you  for  that  matter.  ❞  the  swordsman  was  beginning  to  think  that  participating  in  small  talk  was  almost  like   TORTURE.  however,  he  would  most  certainly  take  up  physical  torture  over  speaking  with  others  any  day.

[princessmacedon]

{ happy anniversary!

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is. Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing! Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together. Template courtesy of Neffi! 💕

Name: Red, more commonly nicknamed Reddo

Pronouns: they/them preferred, she/he OK!

Birthday (no year): December 28th

Where are you from? What is your time zone? moved to kentucky when I was young, and for sake of ease i use EST (TOAST)! i live near a timezone line, so i get to be flexible like that >vo)v HAHA

How long is your roleplay experience? with a few on and off breaks, roughly 15 years? i forgot about a period of my life where i 'moderated' (read: was the most active user on) a warrior cats RP site; my first foray into rp proper was in pokemon rp on tumblr, my first muse was lyra but i didnt have an internet name until i picked up and settled into writing (you'll never guess who)

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? kind of half answered this above oops, but with warrior cats i genuinely dont remember? i probably just googled warrior cats and wound up there HAHA. for pokemon...... honestly probably the same thing

How were you introduced to TOA? key had mentioned it to me in passing a few times, so i knew she was there, but it wasn't until my friend zyra mentioned it to me and suggested we write macedon siblings together again that i actually joined, hahaha

Do you have any pets? i do! i adopted a ?? year old dog from the shelter about six years ago, so now he's x+6 years old :] pretty sure he's some kind of border collie mix, but not certain! his name is tobin, but he'll answer as long as you say 'ob'. he's a sillyhead

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) it used to be winter because i love the snow! but as i get older and more harrowed by weather conditions, i appreciate how normal and not-trying-to-kill-me autum is HAHA

What is your IRL occupation? (finger guns) figuring it out

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? drawing was my first love! i like reading, especially comics, and writing; i like video games and immersing myself in stories, and have passing interests in things that i don't commit to trying out (like resin, charms, etc etc)

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? FFXIV, mainly; genshin impact and hsr; various farming-ish sims (story of seasons + old harvest moon, stardew valley, rune factory, currently fields of mistria); to a lesser extent dragon age, ace attorney, various VNs / otome / rhythm games, pokemon until roughly scarlet/violet era and then my wallet couldnt keep up with it HSDFSGVSD

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: as a kid it waffled between fire / dark, but not sure i have a dead set favorite type anymore. favorite pokemon still lucario and appletun for sure though!

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! (Optional bonus challenge: if you filled this out last year, try not to repeat what you said back then!) - i love christmas and thinking about gift giving! when i was in school my christmas spreadsheet hit like, 50 names HAHA nooooo way do i have that energy anymore, though - i'm reasonably fond of baking and also reasonably terrible at it! something always goes wrong but usually (usually) stuff comes out pretty tasty in the end. except for that time i set my oven on fire

How did you get into Fire Emblem? my friends were talking about how much fun they were having with the new game at the time, awakening! it looked fun so i decided to try it out

What Fire Emblem games have you played? - Beaten: Genealogy, Blazing Blade (FE7 if youre like me and still cant remember which one is which), Shadow Dragon & New Mystery, Awakening, Fates (Conquest + Birthright), Three Houses (Blue Lions) - Started: Binding Blade (FE6), Sacred Stones, Path of Radiance (FE9), Fates (Revelation), Shadows of Valentia, Three Houses (Black Eagles & Golden Deer), Engage

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: Awakening -- still Awakening! possibly tied with 3H, though. i really enjoy games where i can peacefully level grind

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! vaguely ordered, it's: Wolf, Maria, Cordelia, Seliph, Katarina...? if you think you're seeing a trend you're probably right, hahaha ^^ writing a character is an expression of love for me, so inevitably my muses climb higher and higher on my list over time

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! the clearest one i can remember is wolf, because when i was playing fe11 i was passively using him because he was pretty, and then he got 7 crits in a row and i was like :pika:

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳i'm weak toward green haired women AHSJASFDSF but actual game crushes, hmm... not sure!

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: chrom -> still chrom! - Fates: takumi -> hmm... silas or flora? - Three Houses: dimitri -> still dimitri, except now he's duking it out with yuri - Engage: i have the ring in my pocket as we speak, suffering from the burden of choice... probably diamant though?

Favorite Fire Emblem class? whatever class my blorbos thrive in

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? in all likelihood i'm a villager with just absolutely baffling AI. not entirely stupid, but you cant in good conscience say it's smart either HAHA as a playable unit though, i might be a recruit-type? i could do well if you help me grow, otherwise i'm just this scruffy shitty thing tucked into your pocket. middling-high skill growth, paper defense, and you wish you knew what my speed growth was because i don't (probably fast as a mage but realistically NOT as anything physical)

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) my heart says blue lions, but if i'm just some guy (unaffiliated civilian) i won't be surprised

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? - Boons: Reason - Banes: Authority, Gauntlets - Budding Talent: Flying

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon) hmm... probably either Firene or Lythos! i'm too much of a weenie to be from brodia HAHA

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) toah, like noah! to all my xiv gamers out there this definitely applies to job shorthands too. durg. dirk. whum blum sidge. rurpur and rogg...

Current TOA muses: Maria & Katarina

Past TOA muses? Cordelia my beloved

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Maria! unless something unprecedented happens, i don't see that changing. writing her, her want and determination to love and find wonder in the world, to spread and be joy -- it just puts me in a good place! it's really, genuinely helped me a lot, even if her extroversion is exhausting to my introvert ass sometimes HAHA

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) uhhh... i definitely tend toward characters who are in some regard defined by a form of love or strong emotion, romantic though it need not be -- people who have some sort of powerful, aching tenderness in their heart. i've not really done as much as i've wanted in terms of bringing that out of them, but it's definitely something that draws me in to a character in the first place!

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? ooh, there are lots of characters i like who have a brusque edge or manner, who might be harsh or cold... i wish i could do that! i'd like to try, i think. and also the funny, energetic, boisterous types -- i love to see them and be around them, but i definitely can't pull it off hahaha

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) it's been a while since i've gone all in on this kind of scene, but i love emotional scenes and heart-to-hearts -- the sort of thing where you're communicating your feelings with everything you have and trying to reach someone else! i usually rein myself in well shy of that though, hahaha. i worry a lot about getting too lost in the sauce and derailing a conversation/thread, or making it all about what my muse/what they want to communicate.

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? for katarina, i'd love for her to make some friends! she's her own worst enemy in this regard, separating herself from friends/friendships whether consciously or subconsciously. for maria... well, i'd love for her to have a real heart to heart with someone!

Favorite TOA-related memories? to this day i miss and adore annie's frederick! his dynamic with my cordelia at the time was so much fun to write and to talk about and we had such thoughts for how their relationship would evolve -- it's one of the most interesting and endearing relationships i've had the pleasure of writing! on a sillier note, i often think about leif hauling ass after kanoesa's lewyn HAHA

Present or past tense? it used to be past tense, but i think toa's successfully converted me to defaulting to present hahaha ^^;; consciously at least, i try to match whatever my partner does!

Normal size text, small text, no preference? it doesn't matter to me, but i do hate fighting tumblr to keep all of the small text small.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 the wolf app/blog i've been refining on and off for the better part of three years is no secret HAHA, but i've seriously contemplated writing a few other characters! radd and boucheron, to name a couple. i get super attached to my characters though, so it's a bit tricky

[sentfromwolves]

Thanks so much for the tag, @maddstermind!! I love find the word tag games. >:3 I'm going to be doing this for HBABL!

The words I got were: greeting, scream, pendant, and junk!

◈—« greet/ing » HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW ; Chapter Four

A face emerged from the writhing mass of rat bodies in front of him, a pale white apparition with lidless crimson eyes that bled the sclera scarlet, pale pink lips pulling back to reveal rows and rows of jagged teeth.  “Now, now,” the demon infesting the rats purred, “is that any way to greet a friend?”  Pain exploded over Nemesis’s calf, a harder, fiercer force than all the rest, like enamel tearing straight through his skin to his muscle, and slicing that too. He disappeared beneath the surface of the tide, a million rodents writhing all around him, dragging Nemesis down into the dark. 

◈—« scream » HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW ; Chapter Sixteen

“Nemesis,” Judge snarled behind him, but beyond all his anger, Nemesis could sense the fear in him too. Horror and agony and confusion—the final destination of any beast backed into the corner of a cage. “Nemesis—wait—”  His voice cut off into a roar of anguish as the demon prowling around him lunged again, the air bloating with the scent of fresh spilled blood. Nemesis heard flesh tear, bones crack and shatter. Nemesis heard Judge scream, all that agony becoming unbearable. 

◈—« pendant » HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW ; Chapter Two

“I know.” The demon smirked. “I know you’re not. But how’s this instead? We make an old-fashioned kinda deal. Something simple, the kind we shake hands on, nothing more.” Nemesis paused halfway through wrangling off his other boot to hurl at the demon’s head. Suspicion snarled up his spine, but something stopped it stupidly in its tracks. Not hope. Nemesis wasn’t stupid enough anymore to cling onto something as reckless and deadly as that. But something. Intuition, maybe. Curiosity, fanged and sharp. He lifted his right hand, twitching his fingers. Excalibur soared free of the blazing inferno that had become the barn at his back.  By the time Nemesis caught it, the holy blade was a pendant again. He dragged the chain back around his neck, ruffled his sweaty, grimy hair, and said, “and what’s that? You know, most demons don’t exactly have hands to shake with.”

◈—« junk » HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW ; Chapter

“You say that, but you’re the demon who had us wait three hours while they made two hundred burgers to satisfy your appetite,” Nemesis growled as he crawled over the baking leather of the backseat and stuck his head through the middle console. “You sure you aren’t just gonna puke it up by the time we get to the Mirage?”  “I think I have a far better handle on my stomach than you, little witch,” Judge purred, catching Nemesis’s chin with his claws and leaning in close. “Appreciate your concern though. This diet of junk food and jackasses ain’t exactly my style.” 

I'm going to tag @tananaphone, @juls-writes, @saintedseraph @awritingcaitlin, @k-v-briarwood, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @crwn-nrth, and anyone else who wants to do this!

Your words are: rust, ember, damp, breath, teeth. ( •̀ ω •́ )y les GOOOOO

[fioras-resolve]

Every Pokemon move by how much it would take to make them a guaranteed hit

--Normal--

95% (Wide Lens) Crush Claw Cut

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Double Hit Giga Impact Hyper Beam Hyper Fang Population Bomb Present Sonic Boom Super Fang Wrap Barrage Bind Comet Punch Double Slap Fury Attack Mega Punch Rock Climb Screech Swagger Tail Slap Take Down

80% (Compound Eyes) Fury Swipes

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Egg Bomb Lovely Kiss Mega Kick Slam

55% (Gravity + Wide Lens) Sing Supersonic

30% (Do Not Use) Guillotine Horn Drill

--Fighting--

95% (Wide Lens) Flying Press Jump Kick

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Axe Kick Circle Throw Hammer Arm High Jump Kick Sky Uppercut Triple Kick Rolling Kick

80% (Compound Eyes) Cross Chop Submission

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Focus Blast

50% (Gravity + Zoom Lens) Dynamic Punch

--Flying--

95% (Wide Lens) Aeroblast Air Cutter Air Slash Floaty Fall Fly

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Dual Wingbeat Sky Attack Bounce

80% (Compound Eyes) Bleakwind Storm

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Hurricane (Rain also works)

--Poison--

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Poison Gas Toxic (Being Poison-type works too)

80% (Compound Eyes) Gunk Shot

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Poison Powder Smog

--Ground--

95% (Wide Lens) Drill Run High Horsepower Mud Shot

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Bone Rush Bonemerang Bone Club Mud Bomb Precipice Blades Sand Tomb

80% (Compound Eyes) Sandsear Storm

30% (Do Not Use) Fissure

--Rock--

95% (Wide Lens) Diamond Storm Rock Tomb

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Meteor Beam Rock Blast Rock Slide Rock Throw Rock Wrecker Rollout Stone Axe

80% (Compound Eyes) Head Smash Stone Edge

--Bug--

95% (Wide Lens) Fury Cutter Pin Missile String Shot

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Skitter Smack Megahorn

--Ghost--

90% (Zoom Lens) Poltergeist

--Steel--

95% (Wide Lens) Metal Claw Steel Beam

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Meteor Mash Steel Wing Gear Grind Metal Sound Mirror Shot

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Iron Tail

--Fire--

95% (Wide Lens) Fire Fang Sacred Fire V-create

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Blast Burn Blaze Kick Heat Wave Overheat Pyro Ball Blue Flare Fire Blast Fire Spin Will-O-Wisp

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Magma Storm

50% (Gravity + Zoom Lens) Inferno

--Water--

95% (Wide Lens) Razor Shell Steam Eruption Triple Dive

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Aqua Tail Crabhammer Hydro Cannon Clamp Muddy Water Octazooka Origin Pulse Whirlpool

80% (Compound Eyes) Hydro Pump

--Grass--

95% (Wide Lens) Chloroblast Razor Leaf

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Frenzy Plant Leaf Storm Leaf Tornado Leech Seed Matcha Gotcha Sappy Seed Power Whip Seed Flare Syrup Bomb

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Sleep Powder Stun Spore

55% (Gravity + Wide Lens) Grass Whistle

--Electric--

95% (Wide Lens) Electroweb Supercell Slam Thunder Fang

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Charge Beam Thunder Cage Thunder Wave Bolt Strike

80% (Compound Eyes) Wildbolt Storm

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Thunder (Rain also works)

50% (Gravity + Zoom Lens) Zap Cannon

--Psychic--

95% (Wide Lens) Glitzy Glow

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Mystical Power Psycho Boost Psyshield Bash

Zen Headbutt

80% (Compound Eyes) Kinesis

60% (Gravity) Hypnosis

--Ice--

95% (Wide Lens) Glaciate Ice Fang Icy Wind

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Freeze Shock Freezy Frost Frost Breath Ice Ball Ice Burn Ice Hammer Icicle Crash Triple Axel Mountain Gale

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Blizzard (Hail/Snow also works)

30% (Do Not Use) Sheer Cold

--Dragon--

95% (Wide Lens) Spacial Rend

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Draco Meteor Dragon Tail Dual Chop Eternabeam Roar of Time Scale Shot

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Dragon Rush

--Dark--

95% (Wide Lens) Baddy Bad Night Daze Snarl

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Ceaseless Edge Ruination

50% (Gravity + Zoom Lens) Dark Void

--Fairy--

95% (Wide Lens) Strange Steam

85-90% (Zoom Lens) Fleur Cannon Light of Ruin Nature's Madness Play Rough Sparkly Swirl

80% (Compound Eyes) Springtide Storm

70-75% (Compound Eyes + Wide Lens) Sweet Kiss