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Doa - Blog Posts
Idc what anyone says, Poker Face by Lady Gaga was MADE entirety for the DOA Trio, it fits each of them PERFECTLY.
infinity aria ; prologue
fyodor dostoevsky x gn! reader. synopsis: two souls inexplicably intertwined, only for one to kiss death again and again, and for the other to stand witness. throughout the lifetimes, he watches you seek him out, curiously watching you seal your fate. read on ao3
warning : canon typical violence, mentions of death
author's note: holy SHIT i'm doing a series for once. this fic is set in the past, but eventually will become canon compliant. this is a reincarnated! reader fic. the chapters will be considerably longer (i'm aiming 2.5-3k words everytime, but this one will be short because it's a prologue.
Unnerving.
That was the first word you could think of to describe the feeling that seemed to crawl like a spider up the webbings of your veins when you entered the hall; this giant, grotesquely adorned opera hall with ceilings high enough to make one feel infinitely small, the arches too high to properly glean at the painted reliefs on them. The marble floor of the hall remains empty save for a few groups of guests. The linen note you received yesterday crumples in your tight grip. It states clearly in cursive, inked with clarity— that this was, or rather, should be the correct time and place for you to be here. With your best attempt, you try not to look lost, not keeping the eye or conversation of anyone for long enough to be able to feel the full weight of their gaze. Unremarkable people in their own right, yet the stateliness that their haughty gazes carried made their gaze a weight that rested heavily on your shoulders. Somehow, their superimposed, silent pride had made it a lot harder to freely move, every action carefully noted and judged, as if they were the sole authority worth doing so. Tonight only, they were all birds of a feather.
You usher yourself into an adjacent room, pushing a heavy door on the far right side of the hall. Pinching at the hem of your opera gloves, your velveteen fingers lock the door behind you. When you turn around, you see the sender of the note in your palm, with his hands clasped in front of him. A pale young man, gracile and willowy in build, with unreadable yet deep eyes and pale pink lips curled in a sardonic, yet cordial smile. He was dressed in the fashion of the times; a violet cravat neatly tucked into his shirt, matching to the dim shade reflected in his eyes, a small brooch in the shape of an angel’s wings. Owing to the harsh weather, a winter overcoat was draped over the fineries, lined with fur— understated and respectable, yet not standing out. A glint of silver shines under his sleeve, hardly noticeable; not that of a watch or a bracelet, but the tip of a dagger.
You have no reason to believe that the reveal is not intentional.
In your life, you have only ever met Fyodor Dostoevsky four times in person; your correspondence has been limited to perfumed letters that are burned soon after they are read. The first time was in a chapel, his form sitting in a pew with unmoving tranquility, like that only ever found in placid, glacial lakes—counting the beads of his rosary although his mouth had not once moved in prayer. You do not recall why you spent so much time watching him, yet he seemed to command your attention with not so much as a word. He could keenly feel your observation, but for some reason you could not tell, he only glanced at you with a knowing smile, whispered a morning greeting, and left.
The second time, it was in midst of the crowd that followed a public execution, though you remember not what misdeed had led that young man to the scaffold, barely of age. A short drop; you saw the deadly tie placed around that man’s neck, the force not immediately snapping his neck, but rather slowly cutting off his breath, leaving him hanging limp off the rope. You did not wait long enough to see him pass away, but you heard the man next to you mumble something about how 'there's no hope for them, there's no hope for any of them…’ Rather than sadness or contemplation, there was a tone of cruel, self aware irony in his intonation.
Fyodor had stayed behind, observing the condemned man a few minutes more.
The third time, it was through an associate of yours. While you could not fathom why a seemingly devout man would associate with criminals, especially those that specialized in the matter of political assassinations, you did not question your new patron much. So long as he provided his support, it would be unwise to question generosity out loud. It would not be the first time people wore religion like a disguise for their actions, a pretty accessory that could be discarded at will. It wasn't until the past three months that he started becoming more actively involved in these…projects of sorts, and while you could not help but wonder how he seemed to convince your usually suspicious and steadfast superiors so quickly, he had still not given you a reason to question him. That first night you had worked with him is only a fuzzy memory now. By the time you had even reached the location, he was already leaving. When he closed the door behind him, he only expressed formal concern about the late hour and your return home, suggesting that he shall fetch a coach for the both of you.
While his back was turned, your fingers reached tentatively for the doorknob, silently opening it. In the dim candlelight, the glimmer of still warm blood shone on the floors, the limp bodies of around five men with their eyes blown wide lay scattered around the study. You were no stranger to bloody sights, however, the reason your mouth had become dry and your head felt heavy was not the slaughtered bodies of those targets, but rather the one in the centre.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, laying decidedly dead, with a bullet lodged in the middle of his eyes.
You closed the door the moment you caught a glimpse of that sight. Perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. It had to be, for the man you know to be Fyodor was currently not too far ahead of you, standing on the edge of the road and talking to a coach. You wondered why he hadn't locked the door after the deed was done. If he had intended for you to see what you had. The ride home had passed in silence, and you bid him a quiet farewell, head swirling from the events of the night.
Tonight is the fourth time you have laid your eyes upon this strange man. One who has strangely made himself a recurring thought in your mind, an unwitting parasite. Usually, you had no choice but to curb your curiosity regarding certain people, given that asking too many questions could at best result in a stern rebuke or at worst, pointed violence. In that way, the new patron’s serene demeanor was disarming, yet could not entirely dispel the suspicion you kept close like an old friend. Before you could lose yourself in your silent perusal of his character any longer, the sound of his voice brings you back from your musings.
“Punctual, good. I trust you know what we're here for, so let us begin. Have you brought the vial?”
The glass sits cool near your skin, and with a quick reach from your pockets, you produce the item. The liquid inside was clear, smelling like nothing in particular; the vial itself was shaped like those typically used to store smelling salts; slightly darker in color. A blend of arsenic and atropa belladonna distillates, or so you have been told. The vial he had given you looked worn, your thumb could feel the scratches on the glass and an weathered old apothecary label that read an year and initials. For F.D, 1606.
These details remain in your memory, but they are like some sort of eccentric joke; disjointed and without meaning. Fyodor takes the vial, inspecting it for a moment, before giving it back. “It’s not full…but it will be enough for our task. Our guest will be in the box owned by his family, number five if my memory serves me. It will be high enough for no one to see you. The poison will take about an hour to act, and by that time the after party would have begun. Escort him down to keep up appearances, then lead him to one of the greenrooms. They will be empty at this hour. Wait till the body drops, and then meet me in the gardens with the corpse.”
You nod, movements a little exaggerated to combat the stiffness in your limbs. The stubborn feeling that accompanied the onset of missions like these; an ache in your head that felt as though someone was tightening an imaginary cord round your head. The feeling of bile in your throat that won't yet rise; no, that was reserved for after the body is buried. The danger makes you nauseous with anxiety, always has. Yet even as you hear the details of the disposal of the body, repeated by the man in front of you in a clinical tone, you hold yourself well. Back straight, looking at him directly, words uttered only with deliberation and no syllable empty when you discussed the details with him further; this is what you were made for.
Your composure is admirable, he thinks, if only you knew who exactly you were attempting to fool.
“Are you nervous?” He asks, without pity or mockery.
“No. Does something make you think so?”
“You are to kill a man in front of half the city, I would expect you to be nervous.”
You shake your head. “It’s what must be done.”
“I wonder if you say so with duty, or with compulsion?”
You run the words you are about to say carefully in your head, numerous times. Conversations were not a means of amusement to you, but rather a delicate game. The most convincing lies are poisoned by truth.
“They're one and the same.”
Fyodor's expression shifts, the slight mocking lift of the corners of his lips disappearing. There is sympathy where the lights meet the cold violet in his eyes. Not the kind of sympathy that results from care, but sort of a cynical disappointment that communicates that he was expecting something different; you recognize it, for you have seen it in several places. In your friends, in the eyes of confessional priests through the wood mesh, in the men you work for. Where expectations die. “I must say, it is regrettable that you think so. But for a person in your situation, it was unsurprising. For the time being, this will suffice; now, head to the box hallway, the overture should begin soon. One last thing…”
“Yes?” You pocket the vial, ready for your cue to leave.
“... Your hands are trembling. It is unsightly, see to it before anyone else notices.”
The tremble of your velvet fingers stops once you begin to think about it consciously. Slightly embarrassed, you place your hands behind your back, clutching one with the other. It’s a strange feeling, for it's not the trembling that bothers you, but the fact that he could notice that small detail when his eyes seemed to be trained on your face the whole time.
“Understood. Goodbye, then, I’ll see you once I’ve administered the poison.”
“I hope you'll be flawless in your execution this time as well. Good evening.”
He gives a solemn nod, walking to the exit with light, fluid steps; movements as subtle and quiet as that of a ghost. As his back turns to you, your fingers itch to reach for the dagger on your thigh and thrust it into his neck, then twist and twist until you no longer feel seen in such an uncomfortably raw way. Till the discomfort of the moment fades and you no longer feel eyes in the back of your head even as he has walked out that door. When it shuts once more, you are left to quell the sudden rage that simmers under your skin, remembering what you are here for.
Unfortunately for you, Fyodor’s presence seeps into the mind like poison and sticks on it like honey.
Just nikolai and fyodor left to complete this collection
Late but happy birthday Nikolai
this art is only a few days old and I've already decided I don't like it too much and fUCK. MY WATERMARK is so HARD TO SEE
anyway
uhm. decay of angels chuuya or something. I saw that decay of the angel member chuuya nakahara was an AO3 tag and fell in love with the idea immediately even though im still a bit confused on how the DOA works????
the scar is there just because i thought it'd be cool but it actually ended up being a design parallel to fukuchi so thats cool :)
if you saw any of my art in the bsd discord servers uh. hi
Sigma with a gun appreciation post
alice 🫧🫙 dance on
we're walking on moonlight 🪷
Noooooo they're bald :(((
The council will decide your fate ⚖️
THEY’RE BACK BABY (HIDE)
My husband once asked me why I ship Jin with Honoka so much, stating that they had nothing in common and I listed the reasons why:
1. They’re both good people born w/ bad powers
2. They both have antagonistic dads
3. Both have dysfunctional families
4. Both have blood relation to major characters
5. Both apologetic attackers
6. Jin didn't know who his father was up until Tekken 4. Honoka is still unaware who her father his.
7. Both were raised by their grandparents. Jin was partially raised and trained by Heihachi, while Honoka was raised by her grandmother all her life.
8. Mr. and Ms. Fanservice.
BY HIS SIDE…FOREVER
PAIRING: JIN/HONOKA
GAMES: TEKKEN/DEAD OR ALIVE
FANFIC: KALOPSIA
Moonlight pooled down on two figures that lay intertwined in a bed. Her rosy, red eyes fluttered open due to the sound of a beating heart. She raised her head to see the man that she was lying next to.
In her eyes, she saw the man that she loved dearly with all of her heart. However, in the public's eyes, they despised him greatly with every fiber in their bodies. They saw him as an evil enemy who ruined the lives of countless people he sought out. Not even her closest friends were huge fans of him due to his status as heir to the Mishima Zaibatsu and the bounty on his head.
Despite his choices as a ruthless leader, she wanted to stay by his side at all costs because both she and her lover knew the reasons behind his actions. Reasoning that the world does not know of and will never understand. Only she would be the only one to understand his motivations and love him, no matter what.
Her eyes directed themselves at the clock nearby. From what she could tell, it was nearly midnight. Yawning, she swung her legs over the bed, her feet touching the soft carpet floor. Before she made a move to stand, she took a look back at her lover, who was still asleep. Regardless of how strange it made her seem, she enjoyed watching him sleep, his handsome face overcome with peace and bliss.
Smiling softly, she stood up. Picking up a white long-sleeved shirt that was scattered on the floor with the rest of the clothes, she carefully slipped it on before buttoning it up to her breast. Looking back at her partner with love-filled eyes, she headed to the bathroom. As she went towards the tub, she let out another yawn. "...I could use a nice, warm bath..."
Filling the bathtub with water and bubbles, she removed her shirt, letting it fall gracefully to the floor. Before she got in, she placed her hand in the water to check the temperature. She relaxed as the warm liquid climbed its way up to her arm.
The young woman felt at ease as she slowly lowered herself into the water. The bubbles tickled at her skin as she broke through them, burying her body between their light bodies. The pleasant smell of floral essence filled her nose while she watched the suds skim the surface of the water. She leaned back, the cold surface of the tub touching her back as her mind started to drift off into her world. "Grammy..." she murmured. It was the name of her beloved guardian that she loved dearly. When her thoughts about her grandmother came to mind, she gently glided her fingers across the edge of the bathtub. "...I wonder how you're doing up there." There was a moment of silence before a giggle escaped from her lips. "What a dumb thing to say... of course you're doing okay. You're resting up there."
As she relaxed in the warm water, her hand landed softly on her flat stomach. She rubbed it affectionately, her eyes filled with love and care, but held worry and fear at the same time. "Grammy...I'm scared..." she said, her hand balling into a fist. "...I don't know what to do anymore..."
Fear did not leave her body for a second. At such a young age, carrying a child was one thing the young woman could not handle, especially when her lover was unaware of his child's existence in her abdomen. Sex might have been what she was willing to be ready for. However, becoming a mother around this age was something she was not prepared for.
"He's out of control. What do I do, Grammy? Everything he's doing is wrong...he's practically the most hated man in this world. I love him so much and I know he has a perfect explanation for them, but... do I stay by his side, despite his actions?"
The girl might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but she understood everything that he was doing was immoral in every way... but she wanted to stay by his side no matter what he did. However, should she ever continue to support him through all of this, the public would see her as a villainess among side him. It was bad enough that most people who knew who she was through her lover saw her as naive. A naive little girl who's so blinded by the love he showed her to see through his wrong actions.
After a few minutes of bathing, she decided it was time for her to leave the bathtub. She got dressed in a violet, flounce satin kimono robe and stood in front of the mirror, silently brushing her salmon-pink hair. She tied her hair into a side ponytail while the rest of her flowed down past her shoulders. A small smile appeared on her face. From growing up, she always loved styling her hair like this. Her grandmother thought the hairstyle suited her well as a child.
Before she could do anything else, she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her waist. A squeak escaped from her throat.
"Relax." the figure commanded calmly and as soon as she recognized the master of the voice, she relaxed.
"Jin..." she whispered, blushing slightly. "Sorry. I didn't wake you did I?"
A chuckle released from his throat. "No, of course not," he replied, resting his head on her shoulder. "I noticed you weren't in bed, so I came looking for you. I knew you'd be hiding in here." he lightly teased, pulling her closer to his chest.
Honoka only had a gentle smile and silence was the only response to him. She wanted to say many things to him, but her tongue felt as if it were being held down. However, Jin saw through his lover's false smile and frowned. Nothing between the pair felt the same. Ever since his decision to declare war on the entire world, he noticed a change in Honoka's persona. Day after day, she would slowly go from being a sweet, yet childlike young woman to someone he barely knew. Unexpectedly, he found himself preferring her bubbly behavior over her much darker and gloomy one.
At first, Jin was not fond of Honoka. He found her constant presence around him to be an utter nuisance. In his eyes, she came off as nothing more than an incompetent and simple-minded little girl. Her inability to appear to work on time and her failure to meet his high standards annoyed him.
Excuses were one of the many things he had zero tolerance for. But what highly use to irritate him the most was her constant apologies. He despised being told an apology more than once. It only showed how pathetic they indeed were.
The girl was a little too nice for her own good. Even when he would verbally eviscerate Honoka for her failure, she would still display kindness towards him with an apology and a promise to do better. A commitment was a thing Jin couldn't have a single trust in, especially when the person couldn't live up to it. His actions of hiring her into the company slowly started to haunt him. He once found himself close to banishing her from the company not only for her constant errors but for the humiliation he had to overcome because of her.
No. He wanted to do much worse to her. Worse enough for him to see the sheer fear and humiliation on her face. Pain and pleasure were both things he wanted to inflict on Honoka as punishment for her blunders and disobedience.
No.
He had no desire to do that.
It was not what he desired.
The devil that continued to live within him did.
The devil held lust towards Honoka, not him.
Jin felt nothing but pure disgust towards himself at the thought of taking joy in bringing suffering to his innocent employee. The thoughts his devil had of Honoka were disturbing and repulsive. He was fully aware of what the devil inside him was capable of. With the devil, there were no good intentions involved. The devil was far beyond showing mercy towards those he deems are beneath him. Bringing pain, suffering, and even death to those he considered beneath him was what he took great joy in. However, Honoka's life would only be spared by the demon, for he wanted the innocent girl all for himself for his own sadistic pleasure. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't allow the devil to possess him for that to happen. If he ended up harming Honoka, Jin surely wouldn't forgive himself.
His thoughts were interrupted when he felt delicate arms wrap around his torso. Soft lips found their way to his neck, her hands roaming his perfect body. He felt himself stiffen uncomfortably as her kisses slowly started to give him pleasure. He stood still as her lips traveled to the center of his chest. As much as he wanted to enjoy it, he couldn't. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold himself back if things were to escalate further between them. Jin had been too rough on the young woman the last time the pair had intercourse. To make matters worse, he even enjoyed it. Since he could not control his demon genes, he felt like a complete monster.
However, Honoka disagreed. Much to his surprise, she admitted to him that she rather liked it. Jin wanted to question her sanity at that point. Just who in their right mind would enjoy sex with a monster like him?
Jin watched as Honoka continued to leave kisses on his bare skin, her soft hands exploring his body. Her head rose, allowing her ruby eyes to meet his brown ones. She leaned up to his face, her eyes falling closed. However, just as her lips came close to coming in contact with his, a hand roughly found its way to her neck. She felt the ground beneath her leave her feet.
"J...Jin..." she gasped as she struggled to breathe. Honoka's hand found its way to his arm in an attempt to pry his hand from her neck. A red misty aura erupted around her right hand, allowing her to take advantage of the situation she was in.
A hiss and growl came from his throat just as Honoka's ignited hand came in contact with his skin. His grip around her neck stayed tight as he had the overwhelming urge to make her suffer even more for her actions. However, due to the burning and searing pain he endured, he immediately released Honoka from his hold.
Jin glanced inwardly at his hands, then looked at Honoka lying on the floor. Holding her sore neck, she let out a few coughs to recover the air in her body. "Honoka...I'm so sorry."
"Jin...it's okay."
However, Jin gave her a stern expression. "Don't be foolish. It's not." Honoka gave no response as she continued to stare at him. "Do you even realize that I could end your life without a single thought if that swine were to take over me completely?"
Honoka stood up to her feet to face Jin. "But you didn't kill me, Jin. I don't think you would," she said, shaking her head.
Jin turned away from her. "I would have," he replied, not once taking a glance back at her. "Not only you but... our child as well."
"Yeah." Honoka unconsciously agreed. However, as a second passed by, her eyes widen in shock and realization. "W-Wait... how do you-"
"I'm not ignorant, Honoka." smiled Jin with slight amusement. "I knew exactly what you were up to."
"I...um... I-I wasn't up to anything." Honoka stuttered nervously, scratching the back of her head. Seeing right through her failed attempt to fool him with her lie, Jin only shook her head.
"I must say." he paused. "Your grandmother has done well in raising you. Lying isn't one of your strong suits," he said, shifting to face Honoka. "Your skills in being an undercover agent seem to be lacking as well." he finished, pulling out the main piece of evidence he secretly had hidden away.
Honoka gawked at the used pregnancy test she had meant to dispose of for good. "H-How'd you find that?!"
"Never mind how I was able to find it." Jin reprimanded with a glare. "Why would you keep something like this from me?"
Honoka opened her mouth to answer but immediately shut it. She was unsure of what answer to give him after hiding away this information for so long. There was once a time when she overheard him saying that he had no desire for children or a family of his own. His strong vow to put a permanent end to the Mishima bloodline was getting in the way of what she wanted the most. The devil gene is what coursed through the veins of the Mishima members. Jin's father longed for it to become much more powerful, while Jin wished to rid of the cursed gene.
Letting Jin find out about her early pregnancy on his own was the last thing Honoka wanted to happen. She had planned on waiting for the perfect time to inform him that she was carrying his child. The better the timing would be, the less uncomfortable the situation would be.
"Because...you don't want kids," she answered, looking away from him in shame.
"What?" he questioned, a tiny hint of anger lingering in his voice.
Honoka remained silent before finding her voice to speak. "I heard you, Jin. You said you had no intention of having a family and I know why," she said as she stared into his pupils. "It's because you wanna get rid of the devil gene, isn't it?" she questioned, a lump forming in her throat. She knew what his answer would be and she didn't wish to hear it.
Jin looked down at his lover and let out a sigh. "Yes."
Slowly taking in his response, Honoka gave a sad smile and tore her gaze away from him. Hearing him admit it right to her face hurt. But what was painful to her the most was hearing him say he didn't want a family. Not even with her. "I see."
"However," came his voice, making her snap her head towards him. "from the start, wiping out this cursed bloodline had initially been my sole purpose." he paused, taking a step closer to his lover. "Until I met you, of course." he finished with a small smile.
Her heart swelled with joy at the words that came from his own mouth. "J-Jin, I don't know what to say." Honoka was uncertain if everything that was transpiring before her eyes was an illusion or not. Hearing Jin, of all people, admit his feelings to her was the least she expected. A gasp left her throat when two strong arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her small frame. He buried his hand deep in her hair and pulled her closer to his chest. A furious blush formed across her face. Honoka had been hugged by Jin before, but it didn't just feel like any usual hug for an unknown reason. "H-Hey! What the heck's gotten into you? Is Devil possessing you again?" That was a valid question. His devil form could be sweet-talking her and she wouldn't even realize it until it was too late.
Jin gave no response and proceeded to hold her. A shiver ran down her spine at the feel of his warm breath tickling against her neck and shoulder. His lips gently caressed her soft skin, earning a tiny moan from Honoka. "Jin..."
Her voice went unheard as he continued to leave a trail of kisses on her neck. His large hands roamed over her curvaceous body and to the front of her robe. Jin gently pulled at the silk belt that held her robe and slid it off her shoulders to allow it to fall to the floor.
Jin stood back to take in the sight of the young woman, who was now bare to him. His hazel eyes held lust as he examined her voluptuous figure. Regardless of how self-conscious Honoka felt about her body, Jin always appreciated how well-developed she was. Women would vie to possess such a physique that had curves in just about the correct places.
Honoka brought her arms to her chest to cover her bust from Jin. "Look, I know I'm getting fat and all, but you don't have to look at me like that, Jin." she pouted with her face flushed with embarrassment. It was bad enough he had discovered her little secret before telling him, she didn't need him telling her how different her body was getting.
"I simply beg to differ your statement, Honoka." he objected with a slight chuckle. He reached out and removed both of her arms from her chest, earning him a small yell in surprise. "You seem to be gaining it in just about the right places to me." he complimented, focusing his gaze on her free breasts.
Honoka looked elsewhere, refusing to allow him to see how bashful she felt. "O-Oh, you're just saying that." she countered.
"I assure you that I am not." he disagreed. Honoka opened her mouth to argue back, only to have a moan release from her lips.
Another Kasumi render made by LadyKazama💙
Strictly Business with Honoka💖💀
My official gif banner for my fanfic on Fanfiction.Net and Wattpad💙😉
Who said Honey Select 2 can't be aesthetic?😉
My first Jin X Honoka banner for my wattpad story😉😁