Toramaru RP

Hello! And welcome to my independent and semi-selective multimuse rp blog! My name is Ny, (25+) and I am a him. =) You may call me Tora too if you like, if it's easier to remember. Welcome and please enjoy your visit. Please feel free to ask any questions you like, but please note that I will not respond to “Wanna rp.” I am OC friendly, but please have an About page so I can take a look. Thanks and have a lovely day!

Please note: This blog may contain NSFW content!

PS: Please be understanding if I make mistakes. :)

Rules:

Muses:

Sokka's eyes went wide the instant Vincent grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer.

For a second he completely froze.

Then his brain promptly stopped working.

The kiss hit him like a surprise tackle, and all the nervous questions he'd been about to ask vanished. His shoulders relaxed as he melted into it, one hand instinctively settling at Vincent's waist to keep him close.

When they finally pulled apart, Sokka was staring at him with an expression somewhere between stunned and hopelessly smitten.

"Oh." His face was now an impressive shade of red. "That's what you were trying to say." A breathless laugh escaped him as he rested his forehead against Vincent's.

“Okay, first off, he’s not just my boss, he’s my friend,” Moxxie said flatly, already rubbing the bridge of his nose. “There’s a difference, and I’d appreciate it if people stopped acting like I’m chained to a desk somewhere.” He let out a small sigh, processing what he’d just heard.

"As for your fancy-talk, I'd say you're doing exceptionally well, Miss Angel. You've successfully survived introductions, small talk, and at least three conversations about things neither of us actually care about." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "That's practically nobility-level talent."

As they continued strolling around the ballroom, Wing glanced toward the long tables arranged along one side of the room, where servers were setting out trays of appetizers and desserts.

His eyes lit up slightly. Of course he was always hungry, given his active lifestyle.

"Speaking of important matters…" He looked down at her. "Are you hungry?" A playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Because if we're being forced to socialize all evening, I think we're entitled to snacks." He gently patted the hand resting on his arm.

Vox listened in silence. Then his grin slowly spread. "Oh, that's worse." A laugh escaped him. "That is so much worse."

He pushed himself off Michael’s shoulder and began pacing, one hand dragging through the air as static trailed from his fingertips. "See, here I was thinking you were collecting trophies." He pointed at her. "But no. You're editing reality." His grin widened. "You're not stealing Heaven's masterpieces. You're looking at them and saying, 'Cute first draft.'"

The thought seemed to genuinely delight him. Vox stopped pacing and looked at her. "You know, I think that's why we get along." His eye glowed brighter. Then he snapped his fingers.

"Oh!" His face-screen lit up with sudden excited inspiration.

"Gabriel Morningstar! Think about it.” He started counting on his fingers. "Ancient. Respected. Righteous." Vox laughed. "You could turn him into an entire spring collection."

Then another thought struck him. His grin became downright dangerous.

The puffed-up chest at keep her safe. The offended look at don't eat expensive things. The enthusiastic bark at don't steal my couch spot.

By the end of it, Hawks had one hand over his face. "I swear he understood every word." He wasn't even entirely joking. The dog seemingly had more expressive reactions than some Pro Heroes he'd worked with.

Vox waved the apology away immediately. "Please." He rolled his eyes. "If I got offended every time someone accused me of having ulterior motives, I'd never get anything done."

The grin returned as he looked Basil over from head to toe. "Now that you mention it." He pointed dramatically at Basil’s clothes. "That's a cry for help. Tragic. Simply tragic." Vox circled him slowly, assessing the outfit like a fashion consultant examining a particularly difficult client.

"Tell you what ancient one." Vox snapped his fingers as he stopped in front of Basil again. Immediately, the brainwashed Michael rose from his kneeling position without hesitation.

The enslaved Archangel stood silently, awaiting instructions.

Adam accepted the drink when she handed it over, giving it a suspicious sniff before taking a long swallow.

A moment later he blinked. “Okay, damn. That's actually good.” He looked offended by the fact. “Hell really does have everything. Corruption, murder, terrible city planning, and apparently decent booze.”

When Dove leaned against him, he went quiet. Not immediately, of course. Adam wasn't built for immediate emotional responses. His first instinct was to deflect.

“So we're judging entire dimensions by their alcohol exports now?” But the joke lacked its usual bite. His eyes drifted to the glass in his hand as she spoke.

"I guess that means we're both outcasts of Heaven…"

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then he let out a slow breath.

"But somebody has to make sure neither of those two run themselves into the ground."

There was affection in his voice despite the exasperation.

"Kari wants to hunt demons with one arm nearly torn off, and Core thinks 'within reach' means 'I should absolutely ignore the pain and keep stretching until I get it.'"

He shook his head.

Despite the sarcasm, Fizz was already moving closer to the bed. With the ease of someone who had spent far too much time around reckless idiots, he carefully pulled back part of Blitz's hospital gown and examined the bandages.

"It has been some time," he admitted. "Far too much, if you ask me."

He glanced sideways at Ry.