Origami Around
Sade Olutola
todays bird
PR's Tumblrdome
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
Janaina Medeiros
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
sheepfilms
occasionally subtle
roma★
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Misplaced Lens Cap
YOU ARE THE REASON
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
#extradirty
KIROKAZE
seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Germany
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seen from Uzbekistan
@elegaria
# elegaria, sona buvelle, of riot's league of legends, as written by kiki. low activity, independent, selective, private, & mutuals only. links. carrd ( wip ). inbox prompts. headcanons. blogroll. @heartate, ahri. @diveyne, morgana. @seawards, multi. @edensbite, vamp oc, eden. @cassiaslair, gfx rph. in tune with . . . ofhearth, austarsea, fearhaunt, feyfeather. credits. border & divider by @paletterph. all other graphics made by me.
hi guys are we facebook now
like what is this
spots to kiss. since y’all like kissing prompts—and who wouldn’t, honestly–so have a collection of places to press your lips to. many of these work perfectly fine for platonic or familiar affection while some are a bit steamier, though what counts as what is of course naturally dependent on the muses and the context. send ‘ SPOTS TO KISS + [number] ’ to kiss my muse there, or with # for dealer’s choice. context and description allowed and encouraged. feel free to use the last option ( 57 ) to give the kiss on any fantasy or scifi body parts not listed here.
a kiss on the top of the head.
a kiss to hair.
a kiss on the forehead.
a kiss on the space between eyebrows.
a kiss on the temple.
a kiss on the cheek.
a kiss on the eyelid or the undereye.
a kiss on the nose
a kiss on the ear.
a kiss on that space where jaw connects.
a kiss on the corner of the mouth.
a kiss on the cupid’s bow.
a kiss on the lips.
a kiss on the chin.
a kiss on the jawline.
a kiss on the back of the neck.
a kiss on the underside of the jaw.
a kiss on the throat.
a kiss on the side of the neck.
a kiss on where the back of the neck turns to shoulder.
a kiss above the collarbone.
a kiss along the collarbone.
a kiss on the space between collarbones.
a kiss on the shoulder.
a kiss on the bicep.
a kiss on the forearm.
a kiss on the elbow.
a kiss on the outside of the wrist.
a kiss on the inside of the wrist.
a kiss on the back of the hand.
a kiss on the palm.
a kiss on a finger. ( which one? )
a kiss on the side of the ribs.
a kiss on the shoulder blade.
a kiss on the space between shoulder blades.
a kiss along the curve of the spine.
a kiss on the upper back.
a kiss on the lower back.
a kiss on the sternum.
a kiss on a pec / breast.
a kiss under the breast.
a kiss on where the sternum ends.
a kiss on the stomach.
a kiss on the navel.
a kiss on the hipbone.
a kiss on the ‘v’.
a kiss on the front of the thigh.
a kiss on the back of the thigh.
a kiss on the inner thigh.
a kiss on the knee.
a kiss on the calf.
a kiss on the ankle.
a kiss on the heel.
a kiss on the foot.
a kiss on a toe.
a kiss on an nsfw body part not listed here. ( where? )
a kiss on a sfw body part not listed here. ( where? )
IT'S VALENTINE'S DAY WHO WANTS HER
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆; 𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂.
change pronouns, tenses and other details as deemed necessary. & please specify muse when sending to a mumu.
“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned.”
“We caught a few courtiers speculating about assassinating the mortal queen.”
“My husband was murdered! And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him.”
“I have a long way to go before I can manage your level of shameless arrogance.”
“A king is not his throne nor his crown.”
“Two paths are before me, but only one leads to victory.”
“Even though I am the queen in exile, I am still the queen.”
“He will be the destruction of the crown and the ruination of the throne.”
“I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.”
“Perhaps you could just allow yourself to be rescued. For once.”
“Come, let us charm and confound our subjects.”
“I loved you and despaired. Before I die, I want you to know that.”
“If I can't be better than my enemies, then I will become worse. Much, much worse.”
“Tonight let us remember our triumph, our trickery, and our delight in one another.”
“I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”
“I didn't understand the horror of being so powerful and so utterly powerless all at the same time.”
“There will be struggles to come, I am certain, but right now I am equally sure we will find our way through them.”
“All power is cursed. The most terrible among us will do anything to get it, and those who would wield power best don’t want it thrust upon them.”
“It's ridiculous the way everyone acts like killing a king is going to make someone better at being one.”
“You want to free him? Let's gut him instead. Quicker and far more satisfying.”
“So here are the wages for your service... I hope betrayal was its own reward.”
“We have lived in our armour for so long, you and I. And now I am not sure if either of us knows how to remove it.”
“I am glad to have you march under my banner, glad of your loyalty, grateful for your honour.”
“If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry, I would hurt you back.”
“I don't want to die fast. I don't want to die at all.”
“If it's hard for you to bear what you did, give me the weight.”
“I think they suspected my chief qualification for the position was my ability to lie for him.”
are we fr LMAOOO
okay so who's writing quinn so she and sona can kiss
i mentioned this on my other blog ( @edensbite is where i've been hanging out these days btw, my pretty little vampire ) but.
i've been playing a loooooooooooooooooooot of cyberpunk 2077 lately and now i'm trying to cook up an au for sona too because i'm inspired but. like. hear me out now.
take the aesthetic of her psy-ops verse and make her a netrunner, very similar to alt cunningham i feel like. like sona would be THAT good and that level of legendary i think.
ok but a little mermaid inspired au where sona is cursed to have no voice by whomever ...
for but a single moment the glassy sheen of obsession breaks as she denies him. rage unholy grows within him, igniting every vessel until his fingertips burn with the fire of the beast inside. alejandro tenses his fingers, catching himself before the fully curl into his palms. the silence of his chest frees him from drawing a sigh.
still, a moment is enough to shatter anything irreparable. almost immediately his eyes soften, head tilted toward her as if asking for forgiveness. " could you then at least tell me of it? of its history... of its purpose. " he glances over the instrument yet does not deign to touch it: if it cannot be played, it is surely cursed or worse -- a divine design that would surely destroy him if he were so much to even brush against it. " I would like that, for you to tell me its story. "
to think that he can still be taught anything mundane -- the man gives a soft chuckle. " and what else could you teach me? " his voice lifts with intrigue, enamoured by the prospect. " I have travelled this land shore to shore, visited some of the quietest villages tucked away beneath the earth, communicated with those deemed extinct to the outside world... if there is aught that I have missed on my travels, I would very much enjoy learning it from you, my beloved. "
even if sona were not graced with the etwahl's mysterious gifts, she would have been able to feel the palpable shift of tension burgeoning in the atmosphere. with it, though, she feels the pinprick drop of dread racing like ice in her veins. having spent so long traveling the world, within the shadows of foreign dignitaries and through the vines of their court, she's learned to steel her face, to not so much as twitch or hold her breath. it is a gift and a curse to be so acutely attuned to the world and its people. she has felt the poisonous bites of truth when words were woven into honey-sweet lies, and though she's known to the world as a gifted maven of strings, she's meant to be seen as ordinary.
alejandro sees her, though, and perhaps that, too, is a curse by another name.
drawing even breaths in and out, sona stares silently at the etwahl that remains at rest on the floor. her fingers instinctively yearn to tighten into her palms, but instead she feigns a smile as best as she can and raises her hands to sign. " it has been with me since i was an infant, " sona begins, shifting her gaze to her captor's eyes. " or so i am told, anyway. i suppose i wouldn't know, but it's all i have of my birth parents. i have never met them, nor do i know where the etwahl came from or how it exists as it does. " she has always wondered, but the instrument is not exactly forthcoming with answers. sona sighs, soft as ever. it's odd, to be able to utter the quietest of noise but never the barest whisper of even a single word.
sona's hands have come together, fingers intertwining, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing into her palms. she looks up, this time with an expression more earnest than the last, and says, " i can't imagine the spirits of ionia were willing to divulge their secrets to you. "
𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍. for @elegaria
THIEF. what else could this young woman be? mariela’s eyes, mariela’s hair, mariela’s being had been stolen, placed upon this strange individual who had just now stood upon the very same stage at the theatre that mariela had once played. it was a shame that this stranger could not be trusted to play her instrument solo, captivating others as her true love once had, but still…
was it really just a coincidence that this woman wore her lover’s skin, or something more?
it had been her eldest brother who had pointed out the similarities, curious as to whether nova had even known before the band were to tour in their city. pentakill were on her radar of course, having passively heard a few of their tracks at dmitri’s. but to see her lover among the lineup? it couldn’t be.
heart racing — or perhaps only the ghosts of a memory of such occurring — nova had slipped out of the crushing crowd and charmed a security guard into letting her backstage. the poor soul had imagined a sexy rendezvous in one of the band members’ dressing room, only to find himself locked in one while nova herself rummaged around another.
something in here had to have the answers: witchcraft or cosmic interference, there had to be a reason that mariela had returned to her. she could not believe that in all of her years, fate would be so cruel as to tempt her with something so familiar, yet so unknown at the same time.
she knew that there was hardly any time left before the band finished their set, but consequences had long been forgotten in the wake of her desperation. even if she found nothing in the dressing room, this “sona” would return to it soon and perhaps then… in the flesh… she would find her answer.
even after a decade, the adrenaline of playing before a crowd of hundreds, thousands, has yet to grow old. each performance feels exactly like the first: the racing exhilaration burning hot in her veins, the rush of unadulterated frenzy encasing her heart as it beats rapidly behind her ribs. seeing the visions of joy, love, relief, upon the faces of the audience is the greatest prize of all, sona thinks — to being able to live within the bounty of her dream-like reality that yet remains an unattainable fantasy to countless others.
sona takes a silent bow after the final echoes of her piano's melodies fade into the aether at the end of the set, reveling in the warmth of the crowd's roaring rumble of cheers and applause. by the time she rises, the rest of her bandmates have already disappeared, having handed off their instruments to the waiting equipment manager. she doesn't bother with her own, being as bulky as it is, and exits gracefully off to the side.
she pulls down her hair as she walks, carefully removing the metal hair ornaments. they clink together in her hands, a prelude to her feather-light steps backstage. her long, magenta tresses cascade down her back and over her shoulders, relaxing along with the rest of her body with the quieting of her mind. sona can hear olaf shouting in the distance, and a corner of her mouth catches with the faintest threads of amusement. the others aren't so much peaceful or normal as they are . . . relatively less raucous and barbaric as olaf could be.
finally arriving at her dressing room, sona stops just behind the threshold. turning lightly on her heels, she passes a cursory glance around her, brows furrowing with a touch of concern. it's a minute disturbance, but in a way that builds into a gradual crescendo, though it never reaches its peak. the only other aura she's sensed like this had been viego's, from a time long past, now. this is different, though — it isn't his.
sona steps through the door, noting immediately the small, barely discernible shifts in her belongings and decor. were it not her own, perhaps she wouldn't have noticed. she doesn't notice the other woman right away, but when she does, her heart races with rapid panic. if there were ever a time to shout, to raise her voice, it would be now, but she clears her throat instead. she stomps a foot loudly against the floor, shrugging her arms before gesturing wildly around her, silently asking, demanding, " what are you doing in here? "
i think a slowburn situationship romance with sona would be so fun like, she’s a traveling musician now. even while she’s just in demacia, still. she’s built for it!! the whimsy, the pining, the lightheartedness before something gets serious somewhere along the lines . . .
i want the first meetings, the moments where they discover each new little quirk about each other, become friends, dip their toes into something more. hell, i’d love a dynamic where they’re SO annoyed by each other but can’t stay away from each other all the same. the nonstop thinking about each other, surprise drop-ins, plotting when they next meet, all while insisting they’re just friends and it’s just friendly meetings until maybe their hands brush a little too close with a little too much warmth, the match that lights the tension to come.
it's a harrowing thought, knowing that everyone around you would one day be gone. death was natural, the inevitable end to their mortal lives, cyclical as their existences are; but there is nothing natural about the lives set to expire by the whims of a petulant god. it was one thing to know your death would one day come, long after you've lived a life filled with journeys through adventure in good company, and another to see the ticking clock in eye of the sun, warning you that soon, the paintress would have your life. where days that should have been filled with the joys of celebrating life, toasts to living another year more, the world and its people are cursed to settle in mourning.
what little joy there is to have, sona does her best to share. and perhaps that joy, now, is in the amusement of her face twisting dramatically, her nose scrunching up as her lips spread wide with disgust. she thrusts the bottle of wine over to gustave as she swallows the last of the soured wine down, hoping that perhaps it wasn't that the wine is bad, but that it didn't quite suit her taste. extending an arm into a wave, sona dips into a playful curtsy, rising to sign, " yuck! you try it, tell me if i'm crazy, or if it does taste awful. "
@forlumiere / starter call.
short starter call . . . also please tell me if your muse knows how to read lips / knows any kind of sign language KSDBCJKS if not, good luck LMAOOO
AUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHH now i wanna write psyops verse so bad though
an existence so bleak colors the world in gray, the very essence of everything all around draining from the atoms that make them whole. but what could you expect when an expiration date beats with such fierce conviction against everyone's hearts? it hangs like the blade of a guillotine above their necks: one they cannot stop, one they'd have no choice but to watch as it falls. the number inches closer to zero with every year, and for some, for as many decades as the number has fallen, they've come to accept their fate. for others, the knowing is worse than the end itself. sona's life — though it hangs in the balance just as much as anyone else — is her own for just a few years more, at least.
glancing over to sciel, the musician offers a weak smile, gesturing to her instrument. lithe fingers glide over the strings and a soft melody thrums, its notes caressing their shoulders, brushing faintly over their skin. " i could play us a song, " sona mouths, signing the words in tandem. " if you have a favorite, i'll play it for you. "
@foretelle / starter call.
the city is ablaze with lanterns strung upon strings hanging from rooftops and light poles; others floated in the softly flowing river with only the gentlest breeze urging them onto their journey into the night. sona almost doesn't remember the last spirit blossom festival she'd been to, nor the last time she'd been lucky enough to see the blooming blossoms unfurl across the country. some small part of her feels terribly out of place. although she is ionian in blood, her time away made even its soil feel strange beneath her feet.
with a slight smile pulling at a corner of her mouth, sona turns to the woman not far off beside her, offering a stick of roasted dango coated into a dark, sweet syrupy sauce. " would you care for one? " she signs, tilting her head to the side. making a face, a laugh escapes her. maybe she should have asked when both her hands had been free — gestured words tend to lose their meaning when they rely on two hands.
@ruaimei / starter call.
