#silveratonement

[haerith-moved]

@silveratonement // Long time

Tired and hopped up on something or other, Kane is rather glad to see the whats-his-face, though also not. Damn, he sucks with names... He could've stayed hidden and not approached, and yet he felt he needed a pick-me-up. Maybe he'll regret it. Maybe not. He's just so tired and barely managing to stay awake with long hours at work and mainly turmoil-fueled nights of sleep.

"Ever gone three days without sleepin' decently, dude? S'what makes this pretty face look so sour. S'ruinin' me beauty." He sniffles a little, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shoulders slumped forward and yet chin inclined. He does look so tired, eyes half-lidded on a pale face, and yet he still managed to slap on some eyeliner and eyeshadow.

"Seems like y'need some sleep y'self." Cue a wink and finally a smile.

[fightful]

for @silveratonement !

For many, their bedroom was a place of safety. A cocoon of warmth, a time for sacred isolation or joyful bodily weaving. Somewhere secluded from the world, where they could indulge themselves and their more intimate desires—whether that be carnal or perhaps plunging their nose between the fragrant pages of a fresh novel or just catching up on some long-needed slumber.

For Octavius, however, his bedroom was a place of chaos; hardly lived in yet simultaneously tumultuously dishevelled. He didn’t seem to care, nor find fondness in the area. For anyone who had an inkling of psychological analysis in their mind, they might think a lot more was going on for this man. For everyone else? He was just a strange character. Someone whom they might regard with a raised brow and twisted upper lip.

Their opinions don't matter, Ozzy would tell himself.

Nothing matters, would then claw at the frames of his mind, sinking its maw amid the soft, plush grey matter.

The sheets of his bed lay twisted and crumbled, cast southbound and hanging precariously over the lip of the wooden bolstering. Their carnal knitting, limbs and extremities in the most awkward but pleasurable plaits—it was fun. Internally, Ozzy knew that. But rather than express any sort of enjoyment or gratitude, the man leaned over and let his hand rummage nosily through the nightstand in the warmth of their aftermath. A lighter and cigarette plucked free, the latter pinched loosely betwixt his thin lips, the former casting a dull orange glow throughout the bedroom.

The cigarette was lit. He took a languid drag, allowing the chemical malodour to bloat the air around them.

“You hungry?”

[haematophiliac-moved]

@silveratonement // Owch

It had been a chaotic few minutes. A quick punch and a harsh headbutt that rendered Jax holding his face for a few moments, an ugly red mark appearing on his jaw and forehead, it came as no real surprise. But it was nothing new. He had been in enough scraps from related situations and not in his life to be used to the pain. Plus, he was very proud and refused to show weakness, turning stoic and masking himself to not let the other see the pain he was in.

"I only asked if you wanted to be an ally of my ways, my friend."

Simple words, a simple question. But it seems this man was the wrong person to question such a thing having gotten a reaction like that. One so brutal, so filled with hate. And for why? It is a great opportunity to work with him and be on the side of power. Of Rocket. Maybe he should walk away, as much as he wants to torment the other and make him regret all those words and actions.

A wipe of the lower lip, he can feel a tad of blood forming between his cheek and gums. Troublesome.

"And I can see your answer is a firm no, which is a shame. Your attitude is more than welcome with us, albeit you most likely having to tone it down to fit our ah... Ways. But I digress." He cannot help but smile. It is always nice to find someone feisty and filled with life. Maybe so because he dreams of reducing such people to a pitiful nothingness, to a begging whelp that doesn't want to be hurt anymore after so much pain that he could and would inflict.

"Come now. We do not need to fight further. I doubt you are a saint, mm?"

[commonxscents-archive]

"Ya can't beat me, that ain't fair!!"

[mnstcrbnll]

"THAAAT'S ME! ♫"

[gnzma]

[ okay let's see

yes. and i'm saying as someone who genuinely thinks gen 1 or any remake is. Not That Good at least there i have fun with the glitches and the weird art!!!

i was about to be like MEAN TO MY BABIES??? but honestly i never truly cared about rotom in general except for the rotomdex in sumo so yea okay i can see it

..........i'm not saying 20 years but if we get gen 10 next year i think we should personally attack the gamefreak CEO. let us breathe. let your employee breathe. i'm saying it as someone who really loved scavio i could've waited for a year or two more i promise!! ]

[arvend]

// Dare + Make Mabostiff wear a little hat

"He likes it."

[dendrahrah]

starter for @silveratonement​ [starter call here!!]  

Sst! Sst!

Dendra hisses as she launches powerful kicks into her Hariyama’s padded hands, completely dialed in to her training routine. It’s quiet in the Academy’s schoolyard this morning--the students have yet to arrive for their classes, and the sun has yet to fully rise in the Paldean sky. 

Bouncing on the balls of her feet and moving a pesky lock of hair out of her eyes, the battle instructor takes a much-needed water break. As she reaches for her bottle, however, Dendra notices a new presence out of the corner of her eye. Without hesitation, she waves them over with a bright smile.

“Hey you! Good morning, good morning--don’t be a stranger, stranger!”