"give me sight"

To taka responsibility for all is to taka the power of the gods. I am no god. And I am not nothing.

[falskihundr]

MULTIVERSE & DUPLICATE friendly ; OCs welcomed

18+ indie roleplay blog for Bloodhound, from the video game APEX LEGENDS. tw: canon-typical violence & graphic content.

⟡ all prose formats welcome; I largely write in third person & present-tense, but am very comfortable writing past-tense. ⟡ mutuals not required for interaction, but encouraged! ⟡ no pressure on response times; I work full-time and have other hobbies besides. I love slow and rapid responders equally. ⟡ no minors; I will not engage with writers or characters who are under 18. Bloodhound and I are both over 30, I will not write graphic content with anyone under 21. ⟡ all graphic and sensitive content will be tagged and nested accordingly.

RULES & OVERVIEW

[reh-hateshumans]

me flirting: oh fuck, your spiral horns are wicked and would be excellent for grabbing during carnal pleasures

[wolfteacreations]

lichen and bones

[simulamortem]

In response, the hunter crowded him like a prowler guarding its KILL.

Another false breath wracked with static left him harshly. His head rested back, exposing more of his neck to their teeth; almost as soon as his optics flicked to where Bloodhound spat some piece of him away, their fingers began to DIG fervently into the wound.

"Ah--" Some half-choked, breathless sound issued from him. Haptic was less refined in his interior but Revenant could feel ENOUGH that the sensation of the hunter's fingers in his wiring DIZZIED him. He felt-- hot. His temps were climbing again to a dangerous altitude. He didn't think the power protocol he'd just refined would hold out through much more of this and he certainly couldn't bring himself to CARE at that moment.

Soft static haunted his every simulated breath. The glow of his gaze wavered, flickering again. Bloodhound said something. He heard their voice and nothing else, nothing he was able to make sense of, until they spoke again and he managed enough focus to listen this time.

"A feast?" The simulacrum echoed hoarsely with a dazed chuckle, incredulous. "You're gonna make me blush."

[falskihundr]

Revenant was not the only one struggling with a sudden increase in temperature. The choked-out and breathless sounds coming from the simulacrum had Bloodhound's berserker blood running hot, their heartbeat coming heavy and labored in a way that pulsed throughout their face, down through the crowns of their teeth.

They ran their tongue up along the side of his ruined throat, the flat of it catching on every puncture and tear their teeth had made. At his jawline, those same teeth snapped and scraped against the metal there, flecking and chipping bits of paint away.

"I would make you do more than blush," they hissed, their breaths coming just as heavily as his own. The hand still nested within his open throat twisted the wire to his voxcoder; pulling on it just enough to apply pressure, but not enough to disconnect.

[simulamortem]

Their spilling grin prompted his gaze to finally flick back up for their lenses. The sound of his simulated breath hitched at being shoved back against the wall. Revenant had long since recovered from the fit his programming had put him through, and STILL he made no effort to fight his way free.

Merely stood placid as the other Legend's hands roamed his metal. Machine strength and centuries of combat left by the wayside.

Their leg came between his, reminding him again just how close they were, how oppressively WARM the whole of them was against him. "If I didn't know better, I might think that you missed me, Blood," the simulacrum taunted, lilting. "You can't seem to get-" Another catch of faux breath at the return of the hunter's teeth, yellow glow flickering as his free hand clawed for purchase on the wall behind him. "--enough of me tonight," he managed to finish, QUIETER, a static-wracked sigh ushering out of his vocoder despite himself, and the odor of machine heat beginning to fill the space.

[falskihundr]

He could overpower them, if he truly wanted to; he was one of the few whose strength outmatched the hunter's own. But only by a small margin. It would not be an easy fight.

So to see him remain so pliant and subdued beneath their bruising hold on him . . . it satisfied something deep within the animal part of their brain. To know he could break free at a moment's notice, but instead chooses to lie still and show the vulnerable part of his belly.

Their only immediate response to him was a growl, rattling deep within the lowest registers of their throat. The powerful muscles of their arms flexing as their hold--briefly--tightened further around him. And their teeth chewed deeper.

Bloodhound turned, spitting a wad of synthskin across the room, tongue running across the front of their teeth as they turned back to him. One hand relinquished its hold on his chassis to raise and dig within the open wound of his throat, pushing and nudging various wires and cables and tubing out of the way until their fingers located just the right one.

Their thumb and index finger pinched gently around the cord that ran directly to his voxcoder, stroking up the length slowly. "And I would think you have missed me just as much, Djöfullvél," they crooned, voice coarse with the growl still laced between the words.

"Do not come here and spread yourself across my furs like a feast, and then act surprised when I decide to make a meal of you."

[simulamortem]

False breath rasped softly as if the hunter's grip had any real bearing on his AIR. Golden glow fixed on them, watched their leaning closer like they were magnetized toward him. Though where Revenant may have meant to meet the gaze of their lenses, instead his optics snagged on the inviting points of their TEETH.

His circuits stung just looking at them.

"One minute you want a bath and the next you wanna ask all kinds of questions," Revenant challenged quietly, bordering irritable. "I didn't come here for an interview." He would rather their teeth did the talking, but he was loathe to say so after how he had indulged them already.

[falskihundr]

They noticed the way his stare caught and lingered at their mouth, and their grin widened in response; teeth flashing more dangerously beneath the light of his optics. "'To bathe' has many meanings," they said.

"But nei," suddenly, as they spoke, they shoved him more firmly back against the wall by the hold on his waist, "you came here for my attention." Their hands slid upwards, cradling the sides of his chassis and tracing all the familiar grooves of his platings with their thumbs.

And then, the hunter shoved their thigh in-between the wide space of his legs, further pinning him in place. Another point of leverage to hold him up. "How unfortunate, now that you have it."

Bloodhound further closed the gap, pressing themself nearly flush to him as they angled their head and once more sank their teeth into the soft covering of his neck. They relished the textile sensation of puncturing his synthskin and brushing the pointed tips of their teeth against the delicate wires hiding underneath.

Their propensity for teasing conversation seemed to end as the tracker set their mouth to work; running the flat of their tongue across the mess they were making of his throat as they picked and pulled at him, like a vulture plucking flesh from carrion.

[unfortunate-snort]

back again with more screencap edits. these are very fun to do 🤡

and a reminder: anyone is free to draw my version of Rev2. just tag me so i can admire your work!

[[ if you enjoy my work and have the available means, i would greatly appreciate any tips over on my ko-fi! i also still have commission slots available! ]]

[simulamortem]

He didn't suffer their support for long. As soon as the flow of power had either waned or been rerouted and the sim was able to fully stand again with no more twitching or sparking, he did - though he maintained the other Legend's collar in his fist. Lingered close where their own grip on him demanded, until their hands relented, wandered.

Their hold on his waist felt strange. Dizzying, or maybe he was just LIGHTHEADED with fatigue. "It won't," he murmured. "It's... I'm handling it," Revenant insisted. He had to keep making tweaks internally, custom specifications tuned to what this shell could handle. The hacker had told him it wasn't a fix that could be automated without his source code.

So he had to do it himself, every time an issue arose in the older models. ANNOYING, but he wasn't going to be herded into the new body like cattle.

[falskihundr]

They watched, and waited, for him to gather his thoughts and speak. Their hands gripped around his thin waist a little tighter, as if attempting to squeeze an answer right out of him. Or, perhaps more accurately, listening to the way his internals seemed to work a little harder for that simulated breath. Cataloging. Studying him.

Bloodhound hummed softly, not entirely pleased with his response, but forced to accept it regardless. He was convinced that nothing could be done, and there would be no telling him otherwise, stubborn thing that he was. "Very well."

They leaned in a little closer, eyeing the pockmarks left behind by their teeth in the synthskin of his neck. Itching to leave a matching set on the other side. "What else can you handle?" They crooned, teeth bared around the quiet threat within the words.

He had started this, and they would end it. One way or another.

[falskihundr]

apologies for my absence.

i've been a little stressed with finances and some non-internet related life stuff, and my creative writing always takes a nosedive when that happens.

i may be low-activity for a little while longer, but i'm very hopeful for next month.

[simulamortem]

His hand fell slack from its hold on their waist when he was suddenly swiveled, pushed hard against the wall, plates and joints still twitching, rattling. Senses blinked in and out. So much of him stung and ached.

He didn't want this to be happening now. He just wanted--

The sim began to slump altogether DOWN until seeming to catch himself, a hand reaching to fist Bloodhound's collar. "No," he managed wearily, voice soft with static. "It's..." How was he supposed to explain in a way that made ANY SENSE right now?

He couldn't think. They were close and warm and his programming and power circulation was still making a MESS inside him and he could scarcely muster the concentration to fix any of it when all he could think about was their wet mouth and sharp teeth in his throat, the capable strength with which the hunter pinned him now.

"New programming doesn't get along with the old-" A short shudder, the worst of it finally subsiding. "... model."

[falskihundr]

Their grip did not lessen so much as it shifted, when he slumped even further against them; altering their hold to better support his weight, and doing their best to keep him mostly upright.

This, at least, seemed to break through the haze enough to catch their attention.

"The new . . ." their words trailed into a hum just as soon as the sentence started. They remained firm and unmoving for him to steady himself against.

Part of them wanted to push further; to stress him to his limits and see how much he could take. How long he could last before being forced into the next shell. But enough of their good sense had crept back in to reign back those impulses.

"Is there anything I can do?" Bloodhound asked, instead. Their hands traveled, as they spoke, trailing down to circle around the narrowest section of his slender torso; their thumbs pressing in against the soft material there, much like his own claws had pressed into their stomach.

"My skills with rewiring components are . . . less than what you are accustomed to, perhaps. But I will try, if it might help."

[simulamortem]

Their breath, their skin, was starting to feel more HOT than warm against his neck, and when something there pierced him, he thought for a moment the hunter might have slipped a knife up toward the synthskin covering.

But it was their mouth. Hot and wet and exquisitely SHARP.

The simulacrum's vocoder managed no more than some choked electronic sound that may have been the start of a groan cut short. Where his hands gripped, claws sprung with helpless hunger, pricking fabric and flesh alike.

Aching circuits stung. Wiring began to burn. No sooner than the other Legend had let up, and Revenant pressed a half-stumbled step forward, crowding them back toward the wall -- one hand relinquished their waist to brace himself there in the second before a sparking TREMOR fought through his frame.

His head slumped down toward Bloodhound's shoulder but not with desire; instead it seemed the most the sim could do just to stay on his feet at that moment while mutinous electricity lashed from his seams, optics flickering.

[falskihundr]

A hum of approval rolled low in Bloodhound's throat at Revenant's choked-out sound, their own grip around his chest straps tightening into a white-knuckled grip at the pinpricks of his claws in their flesh.

Were they more rested, better fed, and at their usual level of coherence, they might have noticed the way he faltered, or the way he could barely seem to hold himself upright. But their perception was halved by its usual amount, and they seemed to misinterpret his condition marginally.

With the brute strength they were known for, they spun the moment their back touched the wall; yanking him around to reverse their positions and pin him there, instead.

"What's the matter?" They asked, though there was an air of teasing to their tone. "Bit off more than you could chew . . . ?"

[simulamortem]

rev, knowing full well he is in no state to fuck around rn: haha fuck around and find out ;)

rev when hound does exactly that:

[simulamortem]

Pleased at their lack of HESITATION, he felt heat bloom in his chest; this time there was protocol for it so he could escape another fit. For now.

The sim was drawn down with no resistance. Where he anticipated the press of soft lips against metal again, instead the other Legend angled, caught him at the seam between metal jaw and VULNERABLE synthskin throat.

The sound of a false breath left Revenant roughly. Hands drew for the hunter's hips, roving up their waist, wrinkling the thick cloth of their shirt but without moving to lift or remove it. Instead, his thumb pressed greedy through folds of fabric, exploring the front of Bloodhound's abdomen up past their navel. Squeezing LESS THAN GENTLY at flesh and muscle, marveling at their BREATH in the possessive hold of his hands.

[falskihundr]

He tasted of copper, silicone, and vaguely of soot. The metal of him was warm and unyielding, but the soft material of his throat . . . their lips pressed in a second time, closer to where his jugular might have been were he human. And then something in the primal sectors of their brain woke up.

Between the bruising hold of his hands and the gentle give of his synthskin, instinct took over and the hunter bit down around the column of his throat; sharpened teeth sinking in to the red material like knives through silk.

It was difficult not to clench their jaws around the wiring and mechanisms they could feel beneath the protective material of his neck--to keep from clamping down and not letting go. Their breathing came heavier at his fervent pawing at their chest and stomach, and their berserker blood was beginning to run hot.

Forcefully prying themself away from his neck, Bloodhound admired the punctures left behind with a swipe of their tongue before they pulled their head back just enough to catch his eye. "What else should I find out?" They practically growled as they spoke.

[simulamortem]

He gazed after them when they spoke, only staring tiredly before the simulacrum began to shift, joints creaking and clicking like his mechanical frame may have laid dormant for too long. He sat up at the edge of the bed. Gave a flex of his neck, a stretch of each pauldron, the metal halves yawning open before snapping back together decisively.

He leveled his optics at the hunter again. "I SAID," Revenant began, continuing more clearly, more boldly, this time, "you don't have to carve through meatbags to have that either." Adding irritably as he finally left their comfortable furs, stood from their bed, "And I'm not gonna repeat myself again." Pacing closer, crossing the room until he stood before them.

"If you wanna know about what I desire, touch me again and find out."

What could have all too easily been a thinly-veiled THREAT.

[falskihundr]

Normally this would not have been enough; it was still too vague, too nebulous in what he actually might have desired. But they were far from peak condition, and hadn't been thinking clearly for some time.

And . . . perhaps part of them hoped for some sort of confrontation. It would have been justified. What they deserved. A proper pittance for their previous failings.

As a result, they could find no reason not to rise to his challenge.

Pulling the gloves from their hands and tossing them to the wayside, Bloodhound reached out once more, grabbing the straps built in to the front of his chest. Bare thumbs ran along red nylon in a soothing motion before they used the straps as leverage to pull him down closer to their level.

"Consider this me 'finding out' then," they said, angling their head upwards enough to plant a kiss into the crease where his jawline met his neck, "exactly what it is you want."

[simulamortem]

Debating getting up also meant debating whether or not to push the hunter from their own bed, seeing as they were IN HIS WAY. The simulacrum was capable of maneuvering around them... but he wasn't exactly known for avoiding conflict.

Why pass up the chance to invite a short TUSSLE?

He hadn't made up his mind before he heard the clasp of Bloodhound's respirator -- and just as he averted his gaze out of reflex, his jaw was taken, fixing his optics up at the other Legend's lenses.

He didn't think much of it until they leaned suddenly closer.

Yellow glow lit NEON. The hunter's lips were warm. Startlingly warm. He could feel the exhausted burn of his circuits threatening to punish him again for feeling any damn thing. Whether he sparked or not, he couldn't tell, he rerouted power so quickly and then Bloodhound had already gotten up and Revenant was left feeling half-certain he might have somehow HALLUCINATED the whole thing.

"... Don't have to carve through meatbags to have that either," the sim murmured, almost grumbling to himself.

[falskihundr]

Bloodhound had nearly made it to the door. If he had waited a moment longer, or spoke a touch quieter, perhaps they might not have heard. But the room was small, and quiet, and there was not but he and they for ambiance.

Stopping in their tracks, they turned their head enough to look at him from over their shoulder. "Say it again," they commanded softly. Slowly, they angled their body enough to face him a little more.

From the tension in their arms and shoulders, and the way their hands were clenched so desperately into fists, it might have seemed almost like they intended to pick a fight. "Speak, in no uncertain terms, what it is you mean."

He played games so often, and they were tired.

"Do you desire this, or don't you? In this singularity, I will not prey upon you. I will not be a vulture for a want that is not mutual."

[simulamortem]

"Don't be DRAMATIC," the sim scolded, teasing with a vague wave of his hand. "You could have a nap or a bath right now." He scoffed, echoing dismissively - "Lost to time..."

Whether or not Revenant meant to imply that whatever ELSE the hunter desired might also be perfectly obtainable, he didn't elaborate. Didn't prod any further at the matter before his hand fell from all its toying and gesturing to merely dangle off the edge of the bed instead. He debated getting up, now that he felt more awake and more RESTLESS.

[falskihundr]

They bristled at his words, at first; insulted by the implication that they were ridiculous for worrying about such a real possibility. But then . . . the longer they hovered over him, and the longer they watched him, the more incensed they grew.

They were exhausted, confused, and still worried sick besides for the state of this infuriating creature. It made it difficult to reason with themself, or remember all the reasons why their impulsive thought was a very bad idea.

Before they could talk themself off of this ledge--this point of no return, they unclasped their respirator, with more force than was necessary. Pushing the equipment off of their face and to the side, the hunter grabbed Revenant by the lower jaw, forcing him to look at them directly.

In one motion, Bloodhound lowered their head to firmly press a kiss against those unyielding lips. It was chaste, all things considered, and over just as quickly as it started. "Then I will go have a bath," they huffed as they pulled away from him, peeling themself off of the bed.

They suspected he would leave, now, and not return again. They would not stop him. They would deal with the grief of his avoidance when it came.

[simulamortem]

They may have gotten away with pensive silence in some circumstances, but in this case their HESITATION went on just a touch too long. Or maybe it was something in the cadence with which Bloodhound finally spoke, as if they felt a little bit rushed after their long pause.

He hadn't expected the hunter would SHY, after what they had said already. It amused him, but he didn't let that reflect in his golden gaze, staring for them flatly. Testing. "You don't have to carve through meatbags to have any of that shit."

Echoing their own choice of words, the sim CALLED THEIR BLUFF.

[falskihundr]

Of course he would see through their deflection. Foolish. He was entirely too perceptive, when he wanted to be. Something as admirable as it was annoying, in that moment.

"Does it matter," they asked. "If what I desire is just as unobtainable as the creature comforts lost to time, does it make a difference whether I say it out loud?"

Better to keep that admission locked far within their chest, where it might never see the light of day. Better to spare themself from his insults; belittling them for this weakness, this glaring soft spot that they had allowed to develop for him.

Such an admission would likely destroy the tenuous comradery that had grown between them. It would ruin everything.