#(loud shrugging)

[ekleipsi]

14) sender tilts receivers head back so they can kiss their throat right beneath their chin. ( for Haru )

--- The tension between them was always at its peak, whether it was business...professional...or sexual. Pacing in the alleyway had the kitsune's eyes rolling in annoyance as she listened to the detective rattle off a handful of questions about some missing mortal. ' Yeah, yeah...you act like I did something wrong here, the damn idiot was just fine when he left. And he did leave, detective. ' she all but sneered the last sentence, whirling on a heel to glare at him.

--- This? This was not one of those times where their banter was playful and fun. At least, it certainly didn't feel that way. Fangs were bared in irritation as he stepped closer, invading her space and lowering his voice into something quiet and personal; it didn't escape her, the way his fingers were resting on the grip of the pistol he always carried. Did she seem threatening right now? She must have, for him to be so on guard.

--- ' If this is some kind of interrogation, I feel like I'm entitled to a lawyer or so-- ' she began, bristling, but words were short lived and promptly silenced the moment her fingers curled around her throat. It wasn't overly harsh, though the air of authority he presented with the gesture was apparent, staring down at her with narrowed gaze and a small squeeze. Thumb flicked along pale column, absently tracing over her pulse...up to the point of her chin where he applied pressure to tip her features up.

--- Another low sound, though she wasn't sure if it was a growl or a moan, offering him a sly grin. ' Why detective...if you wanted to find out my kinks, you could have just asked...you can squeeze a little tighter if you want... ' she all but purred, but the words are only to mask the lightning quickly flash of a blade, moonlight hitting it as it slipped from her hair and into her palm. It was the only sign of it being pulled as she held it to his throat; fair's fair, right? ' But two can play at that game... '

--- Though...instead of aggression, he leaned forward- against the blade, until sharpened edge bit into tender and pale flesh, marking a sweet crimson line into his skin where rubies flowed freely down his own neck. Something he didn't seemed to mind, all in the name and placing a kiss along the underside of her jaw and chin- punctuated at the end by a sharp bite and a chuckle. ' Thanks for the information. If you see him again...I'm looking for him. Keep him here. Call me. ' And with that...? He was gone, leaving her breathless and staring at the crimson stained knife he left behind in her palm, dragging her tongue over the blade as she stared after him.

[theangrypomeranian]

dear brain, not everything needs to be turned into an au for our otp/favorite character

[wordveined]

rolls aimlessly

do i work on wasuremono, do i start my rehash of edelgard’s death in vw, or do i write that drabble based on the ending of azure moon and alternatively to that do i write the version where edelgard takes his hand or--

[todayisafridaynight]

[silverskye13]

"You're bleeding."

It's an obvious statement, one Tanguish feels a little foolish for. Of course Helsknight is bleeding. He just won his match. It's amazing how strong these Colosseum fighters are, how much damage they can do to each other, especially when they're matched up well. And Helsknight is the Champion of Hels -- if for no other reason than the popularity with the crowd, every one of his matches is a good match. It has to be. Anything less and it's not the Champion, is it?

Helsknight looks dazed. It's a familiar look. After a particularly rough fight. It's like the knight can't believe the fight has stopped. It takes a few minutes for his heart to stop sprinting. So he goes through the gate, dragging his sword up to the nearby wall and plants himself on the bench, and he stares into the middle distance, breathing, bleeding, waiting. It's a familiar look. Today he's spattered up to the elbow in blood, and it runs between the links of his chain mail in thin calligraphy lines. It gathers in the bends in his pauldrons, makes more stark the dent in his chest plate. If it's not cleaned and polished off in the next few hours, it'll settle in those places and poison them with rust, and the next time Helsknight fights, he'll be more vulnerable. Blood is such an insidious thing sometimes, the way it weakens when it flows.

Tanguish moves to the knight, a bowl of water in one hand, a healing kit in the other. He takes the knight apart like he's a machine, slipping delicate fingers across the gauntleted hand, undoing straps and buckles to show the bruised knuckles beneath the armor. Metal and leather can only do so much. Bodies break surprisingly well, when they're testing their limits. Helsknight sighs as Tanguish massages his hand, searching for broken bones. The knight is almost feverishly hot to his frost-laden touch, and Tanguish watches the swollen skin start to pale as the cold soothes it.

"You don't have to do that," Helsknight says, his voice a thin and distant rasp, still lost somewhere in the adrenaline crash. "Just... give me a minute to rest."

"I am," Tanguish answers him gently and keeps working, unclasping the buckles on the chest plate and pulling it free. He lays it gently on the ground, and takes pride in how Helsknight breathes easier. The knight rests, eyes fluttering half-closed and sighing as Tanguish works. Cold hands trace over blooded armor and fevered skin, setting right the wrongs. He dabs at cuts, eliciting hisses of pain that he immediately soothes. He puts ice to bruises, and water to sweat and blood, and Helsknight revives, slowly. His breathing lengthens and deepens. The flushed skin cools. The muscles relax.

"How did the fight go?" Tanguish asks when Helsknight's eyes flutter open again.

"I won."

"You can say it better than that."

Helsknight smirks, his vitality slowly returning. He sniffs and runs a tongue across his teeth, making room for the words where there once was blood. Tanguish doesn't know how the knight stands the taste, but then again, Helsknight has been in a great many fights. Maybe blood loses its flavor after so long.

"You watched the fight."

"And so did they," Tanguish looks up to the ceiling, where the cheering of the crowd still sometimes surges and roars. "But none of us can tell the story the way you can."

"Blood is memory without language."

"See, that's what I mean."

"Weaving bard's tales already?" someone asks, another fighter sitting on another bench, cleaning a bloodied sword. "You haven't even rested yet."

"He's resting now," Tanguish says, running the damp cloth over a gash in Helsknight's arm. That one will need stitches, or a health potion. Helsknight's hand shakes when Tanguish cleans it, and there's color in the cut that means its too deep, gruesomeness he doesn't want to put names to, for fear it'll make him sick. Helsknight spares the wound a glance before pointedly fixing his gaze away from it. It always strikes Tanguish as funny, that the knight can't look at his own wounds. He can inflict them, he can tend them in others, he can ignore them, but admitting he's wounded is a mountain he struggles to climb.

Helsknight closes his eyes again, but the eyelids keep moving, like a man dreaming or searching for words.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"When they opened the cage."

Helsknight nods. He sits in silence for a long moment. In a few days, when all wounds are healed and all aches soothed, Helsknight will write in a little book he keeps under his pillow:

Blood is memory without language The wounded creature screams And though the sand drinks life away We lay linked by crimson streams

Brothers you and I, creature Kin on parched and bitter sand Though mine is spilt for glory Yours is spilt by crowd's command

What place is this, what hell endured That brings us to this yield But happenstance and hubris And hungry crowd's bone field

What beast are you to me, creature What creature I to you You are a footnote in a story And I the death of you

Again repeat what we both know Whilst life, for now, entwine That we are linked in blood my love Shared memory divine

[starheirxero]

"A part of me still wants to go crawling back to him, it's what I was made to do." FUCK EVERYTHINGGGGGG

[iwanthermidnightz]

I keep rewatching the mastermind performance over and over again and it’s so loud because Taylors telling this story with her whole chest. It’s interesting to pay attention to the movements that are happening. She’s playing puppet master with the ‘playthings for her to use’. They follow her every command. All the pieces fall right into place/dominoes cascading in a line because it was all her doing… the mastermind. None of it was accidental, don’t you love that? The metaphor of it all.



[starflungwaddledee]

Ok but what if she went to waddle Dee town in the forgotten land and all the waddle Dee’s just accepted her because they are really nice and not rude and they accept her and she has fun and a good time please I really need this for her

i considered drawing something out to this, and making it a happy ending sort of thing, because i think this is extremely sweet as a concept and i understand the desire for it!

that said, i decided that it would be a disservice to the lore i'm building for her, my biology/magic headcanons, and also the waddle dees as a whole. i might still draw it some day, because i could absolutely perceive a way it would work (ie: all waddle dee signatures messed up by Elfilis's portals, or their magic sensitivity nuked by it.) and i think it would be lovely

but for now, i have too many other things on the backburner to get to this promptly, and i wanted to answer this one sooner rather than leaving it for months

i will say, they're not being rude to her! there might be the odd one or two who is a bit snide, but there are some of those in every society. as a general rule the waddle dees not only understand that she is struggling, they want to accept and help her. many of them even know she's lonely, and feel pretty bad about it. but it's hard, and not just because she makes people uneasy!

i draw parallels with starstruck's gummed up magical signature to autism, as i'm autistic and so by merit (as a sona), so is she. but there are some parts that do not line up with the way autism functions in our world, and one of them is that touching or being around her can be genuinely, literally painful for some of the very sensitive waddle dees.

despite that, her waddle dee doctors actually pushed through it while she was in the castle dedede infirmary. because they were determined to treat her (mostly-surface-seeming) injuries and help her feel better. and they apologised for the reactions that they couldn't control anymore than she could control her signature; the various "sorry"s she parrots in this comic are implied to be from waddle dee doctors.

it's a fine line in alien-storytelling, especially with a real world disability parallel, and i'm trying to tread it as carefully as i can. but i don't intend to villainise the waddle dees at all for their reaction to her; they truly can't help it. many of them even do their best to push through it if she comes into their vicinity, especially because she often arrives with Beloved Celebrity, Captain Bandana Waddle Dee. but like a lot of us, she can tell when she's being tolerated, and so as a rule she just sort of tries to avoid it, one way or another

[dvrcos]

In love with my very self indulgent kevaaron mood board because I’m very not normal about them

Link

[snackugaki]

.... no forreal, how late am i actually to this?

it’s not gonna stop me but I like knowing how late I am to art challenges, ‘cuz there’s late and then there’s necromancy reanimation-late

[absurdumsid]

what's your favorite song?

sorry man i couldnt decide on just One

so i made a playlist <- i DONT recommend listening to it on shuffle some of these songs are so soft and some are so LOUD

[theangrypomeranian]

shipping friends: *has a pretty cute crack ship*

me: aww nice! let's see if we can get into it--

my brain: SO HERE'S AN EVEN CRACKIER SHIP--

[perenlop]

i think its always worth thinking about how women are portrayed in certain stories, from fictional narratives to reddit posts presenting themselves as true stories. is every woman in the narrative either antagonistic or shallow? are most or all of the men portrayed as sympathetic and competent, moreso than the women, even if they commit the same crimes?

[aphsillyos]

protective pfe is just really cute...

[azzandra]

I try not to dunk on the customers I encounter at work too much because I know we all get our turn with the idiot ball eventually. But this week I was bedeviled by a man who insisted on informing me multiple times that the reason he wasn't satisfied with any of the options we offered was because he was the kind of person who read the Bible every day.

And like, it was an act of supreme will not to write back 'well, maybe reading the Bible every day has made you stupid, sir'. Like, the Bible isn't that long of a book. You've been reading it every day and still haven't finished it yet? Have you considered maybe reading a second book so as to develop perhaps a second personality trait?

[running-in-the-dark]

also my ear(drum) is still fucked up and actually it's worse than yesterday. so that's also just so awesome