"Oh I hear the wind call your name
The sound that leads me home again
It sparks up the fire — a flame that still burns
Oh, it's to you — will always return"
Bryan Adams - I Will Always Return/
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever

Love Begins
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
NASA
will byers stan first human second
occasionally subtle
taylor price
almost home
YOU ARE THE REASON

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Sade Olutola
ojovivo

PR's Tumblrdome

seen from United Kingdom
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@bash-and-door
"Oh I hear the wind call your name
The sound that leads me home again
It sparks up the fire — a flame that still burns
Oh, it's to you — will always return"
Bryan Adams - I Will Always Return/
~ Fire spark ~
My troll druid Aji'ika reuniting with their close person and a father figure, Janzu
Art done by the amazing @nidarosis, thank you so, so much! They're absolutely perfect... 💜💜💜
My new pfp is an icon that was gifted to me for Christmas, as done by Feldrassil on Twitter.
For @/bash_in_door on twitter !! <3
My boy! Zi'kahn, a former Zandalari Warbringer
Pardon the spam on this blog and any others of mine you might follow, just doing some reblogging off an old writing blog before deleting it!
Aerein Inmosh
Who was he? Another Quel’dorei Priest ashamed of his Thalassian cousins and hiding among the Alliance after the fall? Another human loving, light using coward? Or simply another pawn in the Alliance’s game of chess.
He would’ve been a Blood Elf, truly, if his great grandparents had not nearly lost everything they had in the Troll Wars. If he had been born in Quel’thalas and been apart of Silvermoon’s reconstruction, his name would not be Aerein, and he would not be an Inmosh. But Baem’themar barely escaped with his life, a though he was a coward, it took a different kind of bravery to take his family and flee for safety. They had won the Troll Wars, but he had lost so much. He took his wife’s name and joined the Alliance as Baem’themar Inmosh and he promised Kaydinse safety and happiness and a bright future for every generation after. He promised to not look back. And he didn’t.
Aerein is the oldest of five; son of Norae’themar Inmosh and Elaena Embersong; he was the older brother of Tanarya, Perirre, Noviryn and Walen. They didn’t rely on him anymore, but he took strength from them daily. He was the Lord of his family’s House, however inactive it may be. He was a Discipline Priest, one who practices in the Light and Shadow for healing and combat, but he was one who had trained as if he was only Holy or only Shadow. With the Ren’dorei among the Alliance, he has a slight preference to Shadow, but swears by Discipline.
He is the Priest who is so unlike a priest, that it’s almost funny. He’s toned, he’s light hearted, he laughs a lot and he laughs ugly, and he’s got tattoos covering his body. He frequents robes for a professional look, but it doesn’t take much to get him in a tunic and some pants. He keeps his hair up in a topknot, but he enjoys it in a ponytail, a bun or just down his back and over his shoulders. He’s got laugh lines and scars and gold eyes that twinkle like the stars.
He says he sets no examples for priest or for anyone, just for himself. He thinks life is short, even when you’re an Elf, and occupying your time with somber activities is a waste of it. He enjoys to drink, sip tea or coffee, read or talk, walk down the streets or run down the beach. He’s flexible and he’s lovable, or at least he tries to be…
He’s what Cay’den could be..
Old Cayden AU I had where his grandparents left QT; Cayden MU moves to Stormwind in Dragonflight and fully defects to the alliance. Crazy how things change
Her Duty
She walked the Scar, as it was to become known, and what was just a battlefield for them. She was helping to find survivors, but they were so few. Most of her unit was missing and her son, easy to spot with his crop of blond hair atop a head nearly six and a half feet up, was missing too. She was still in shock as she stepped over the body of a ranger and scuttled around a magister. She gripped her bow in one hand, a tuft of fur in her palm, and lightly held a piece of parchment in her other hand. She was trying to remain calm, but as she approached the row and piles of ravaged frontliners, it was difficult.
She paused, staring out at the ruined land before scanning the corpses being rearranged and looking for that distinct crop of blond hair. She couldn’t see it from here and her heart tightened as she pressed forward. She saw not a single person alive and if she did, as soon as she was at their side, they perished. It was exhausting and it made one feel guilty for being alive. Finally, she found where he’d been stationed last and, clear as day, found him. She did not run, for she knew he was not alive, so she continued her search and made her way towards him.
She knelt down beside him, placing her bow and the tuft of fur down, eyeing the patch of red hairs with a sigh. She’d lost her most recent, long term companion in this fight but had not had time to mourn her. Now, she sat beside the body of her only son. She pushed his hair out of his face and heaved a sigh; his sharp features still held color, but the light in his vibrant blue eyes had left. He’d been run through the stomach and blood had spewn from his mouth; it had now dried after reaching his neck. He had obviously suffered other injuries, but he looked so intact it was painful. He still looked like Khy’lar. She sat there for a moment longer before huffing and moving to sit behind him.
She pulled his long hair out of its ponytail, lip quivering, and tucked the parchment into his tail before putting it back into the high tail and making sure the small scroll was secured by the band. She fixed his bangs once more and finally collapsed into a heap of sobs. He was not young, but he’d still so much left to do. He had younger siblings, he had a serious partner finally. He had a life to live and it’d been taken away. She’d already heard the stories of the Lich King’s necromancers and their magic. She’d prepared scrolls for her and for Ky in advance, fearing the worst. She sat up and pulled her ponytail down, taking out the scroll and unfurling it.
“I am Ceere Duskarrow. I am a Farstrider, a mother, and an animal lover. My son’s name is Khy’lar and his father is Varrenis Blackshield. I am Ceere.”
She was tempted to tear it up, but instead she tucked it into her belt along with her hair clasp. She rose, finally, saying good-bye to her only son for the last time and returning to duty. He was not buried, but still, she bought a graveyard plot for him. He’d decided long ago to call himself a Duskarrow, though he was rightfully a Blackshield, so on that day, Khy’lar Deneb Duskarrow had passed and died alone of his injuries…
World of Warcraft Cosmology
Changes
He kissed her on the cheek one last time before jogging down to meet his group and get into position. Something terrible was coming and it was tearing up everything in its path. It was their job, usually, to stem the flow of something like this, but he had his doubts it would work. He’d heard the stories and it worried him greatly. Still, he had a job to do. He was one of the more seasoned, older fighters so he had to put on a front for those younger than him, more scared than him. He set his posture for battle and exhaled; he’d lived a life long enough to not fear death… right?
***
Wrong. It terrified him. He didn’t want to go. He had so much to do, so much waiting for him at home. He had to help clean up, help rescue, help… rebuild. He could see the ruins from his position on the slope, but with a hand over a gushing wound in his stomach, and unable to comprehend what all was broken, even the thought of getting up sent pain through his entire body. Everyone else around him was dead or dying, but he had the misfortune to be hanging on for dear life. No one would save him; no one could. He was too far forward. They were all deadmen.
He shifted a bit and yelped; he was so scared of the encroaching darkness, he pleaded with someone, anyone to help him. He let tears stream down his face as he cried out with his last breaths for someone to save him, but even he knew it was fruitless. He’d already lost so much blood and it had no plans on stopping. He tried to catch his breath before he died finally and his last, shaky exhale was a shuddering sob.
***
The darkness was starting to fade by the slightest of increments. Slowly, the void became black and eventually, after a long struggle, the black was traded for dull, mute and morbid colors. He was awake. Alive? No…
“Get up,” a raspy voice barked. He pushed himself up. “Fight or die again,” the voice demanded. A blade was thrust into his hands and suddenly three mangled corpses rose up to attack him. He slashed without thinking then again and again; three bodies hit the floor again and he stood straight, gaze forward. “Cleared,” the voice said, unimpressed. “Clean him, give him armor and send him straight out.”
He was ushered somewhere and told to wash himself up. He was shoved into some semblance of a bathroom and stared at the mirror. He blinked his eyes met the icy blue of his reflection. He noticed the dried blood on his lips, chin and down his neck and made quick to clean himself up before he took down his hair. Down with the clip came a scroll of parchment. He leaned down to pick it up.
“I am Khy’lar Duskarrow. I am a warrior and defensemen. I fight on the frontlines. My mother’s name is Ceere and my father’s is Varrenis. I am Khy’lar.”
He looked back at his reflection, blinking. He paused only a moment more before he put the scroll back in with his ponytail and pulled it all up high and tight. He left the bathroom and was ushered into the barracks. He fitted himself into the standard armor and picked up a basic bastard sword.
Khy’lar.
He trained in combat and in magic and at some point took up the name Rosenthal from a man named Kyle who’d valiantly aimed a bow at Khy’lar’s neck and foolishly died. He took up blood magic, he took up being a dark rider and became part of a cavalry. He got taller, stronger and managed to keep himself looking healthy and alive for no reason other than he could do it. He knew who he was. He knew who his parents were. He cut his hair as the blond was turning into bloody red; he kept it short and under a helmet.
When he was admitted into the Horde, he never bothered to try to find his parents. He was aware of the general reaction from those who saw only a Death Knight; he didn’t want to try his luck with his own blood. When the people became less vicious, though, he finally found his mother and learned of a tattoo she’d gotten long ago. He replicated it for himself, so as to remind himself of his roots. As time went on, he became less cold, but it never changed the state of his undeath. Khy’lar Duskarrow had died years ago. A corpse had risen from his place, taken his name and traded it for Rosenthal. He had died a High Elf and when he returned, his people called themselves Blood Elves because of all that had died.
All that had stayed dead?
It occurred to me some time ago that I may never return to roleplaying in WoW like I used to. I've been progression raiding since 8.3 and I've enjoyed it a lot. I still have TRP and I still make profiles but I think if I ever stopped raiding, I would return to my alt leveling and major collection hoarding, like I did before, just minus the RP. I still make characters and imagine their stories and aesthetics, but the community aspect of RP has become so exhausting and such a coin toss that I'm tired from it, still, 5 years after I stepped away from an unhealthy environment. I'm still collecting art and brainstorming with an RP partner, who is even more of a raider than I am (love my raid lead / RP partner of literal years) but going back to Moon Guard? Or Wyrmrest? Especially without my friends? I would sooner mythic raid than return to RP full time, and it's sad to think about because I loved it so much for YEARS. A few bad communities and people have just pushed me away too well.
snow elf go brrrr
Zokar ⚡
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Commission illustration of Cay'den and Logan <3
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