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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.
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@gamesover
it’s done.
ignoring the fact that i’m about four days late: happy new year!!
𝒛𝒂𝒄𝒌 / 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘
to face the harbinger of one’s own demise: could he deny the feign of this apparent existence? in a world where he lives not a breath longer, quartered and drawn apart in death, one that he can only assume was some attempt at a last stand. to the evident: he did not make it through to the other end. except ... he had. 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕: a fracture in the fabric of a past timeline that brought to him this chance at a second life. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭: he can only offer weary acceptance to the prophetic sayings of the strange man before him, tired in a way that can only be described as festering bone - deep. 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕: with everything that he has witnessed and gone through, being told that his current continued life is manifest only due to a break in stability seems almost par for the course. truth has never been more objective before in his life — and besides. no one would just make up something this crazy, right?
❛❛ ... yeah, i don’t think simple does you much justice. ❜❜ the breathlessness of his chuckle, a touch of disbelief that hitches the tail end of his words. but his attention is genuine, interest arrested by the hitch of his shoulders, leaning forward with an easy grin. ❛❛ but hey, if you ever wanna train, just let me know — i wasn’t first class for nothing! not that that means much now but ... ❜❜
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 . @miburoni
guess what i just watched ^_^
king of my heart,,
𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒔 / 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲 .
;; – ‘TIS A BEAUTIFUL WONDER THAT SHINES IN HIS EYES. Something childlike , reminiscent of a time where his body had been more careless and his heart an open thing, unlike the closed off shell he has become . It is almost like it had never happened – no scar on his back , no consuming fire in his dreams, just two boys who tailed each other all over the citadel from dusk ‘til dawn , all too happy to occupy each other’s time and ransack the libraries together.
He is a graceless thing, clambering onto the car even with Ignis’s help. Should his hand slip and his face end up squished against the hood, he says nothing– he expects that Ignis won’t either, even though the thud is quite loud. There is no mark left on Noctis’s cheek at least, and before he sat down a top the blanket proper he threw the one wrapped around him out like a cape so that he did not sit on it. Enough of the blanket is left unwrapped from his body, enough to share with Ignis and savor the warmth it could provide.
“ Uhh… No? “ It’s so long ago that Noctis has to wrack his mind for it. They’ve made plenty of promises, many of them meant nothing, but every now and then Ignis would recall something that reminded him how much he cherished him– how much it seemed, that his feelings are returned. He need not dwell on the name of such a feeling, only aware that they share a bond he has not felt with anyone else. He even leaned against him once he’s taken a seat beside him, nose briefly pressed to the man’s shoulder. “ To be honest, I don’t really remember most of what happened before— “ before the daemon had cleaved him in half– his breath hitches at the memory, but the despair of it is shoved down quickly enough. It is a happy moment, one that shall not be tainted by pain. “ — I– I don’t know I just don’t remember. That’s.. Okay, right? That I don’t remember this time?”
attention divests itself of intended target, for only the moment of observant ignorance that comes with preservation of dignity. not to his own, mind, but for the monarch who fumbles to find stable purchase. a swift once - over glance is all that ignis portrays in the way of visible concern as he accepts the warmth of a shared coverlet. though he cannot deny: the desire to reach forth and gleam the extent of damage with gentle fingertips — alas, such whims now seem so far beyond the realm of possibility.
instead he allows for this: the play of reminiscence that invites curtain call for the theatrics of this devoted mind, mouth shaped just so to distil the faintest of bygone sentimentality. no blame shall ever pass this lips in noctis’ name, an oath in and of itself, and the hesitant confession is welcomed home by evocative understanding. ever aware of the shadows that lurk beneath that princely veneer, the dearest advisor would gladly provide any distraction.
❛❛ it was so small a thing, i’d be more surprised if you did. ❜❜ to be accompanied by a chuckle that flies off in the wind. such a trivial matter, yes, yet it is one that he remembers like the back of his hand: the memory’s own compass, to guide in such a way. he reaches for the basket, lifting one side of the cover to reveal two cylinders: thermos cups, for the chilly breeze that is sure to greet them this evening. practised ease makes itself known in the quick motion of his hands to pour out two portions, one that he is sure to pass to the other before attending to his own. tick tock, tick tock: countdown clock striking the bells of impeding exhibition. and there, in the far corner, will begin the first falling jewels of the sky. ❛❛ ... i promised you a sight you would never forget. ❜❜
𝒋𝒉𝒊𝒏 / 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 .
❝ your wardances will fade, little crane. either they will forget you entirely or they will conjure up someone else in your stead when you are dust. ❞
the slate of her face is a grim composition, the dreadful fatigue that pulls at her very soul, as if forever to be a part of her being. for she too, must carry the weight of a masked visage — though ... nothing quite as obscene as the one so shamelessly displayed before her. ❛❛ oh? are you to suggest that you would bring about such an end? i am not like them: glory has no use to me. ❜❜
𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒔 / 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒚𝒓𝒆
indeed, what could a mere mortal know of such? to bare suffering beyond the realm of comprehension, dangled before the sweet gift of gracious gods even as one is denied from elysium’s gate. cruelty can bear the fruit of further cruelty, gentle grace forsaken for the darkness of a vengeful soul — no one would ask sympathy of him in this way. [ once, millennia bygone, bequeathed upon temporal form: a moment of benevolence from deity reign, the tinder of a newborn fire who spared no love for the creatures it lived among. ] and so it exists here: ignis, who bares a flame in only namesake, is the creation of a cautious heart, rarely taken to the turmoil of pity foe; would he, if the tables were ever so turned, mourn for the besmirched name of the stray fallen savior?
❛❛ and you would punish him ... for the crimes of his ancestors? ❜❜ he speaks with such veiled derision, the reticent that blooms beautifully in the certain twist of his lips. ❛❛ how droll. ❜❜ ever the chameleon: he could wear the palette of mockery as if it were his own skin. ❛❛ that child is king. you would do well to address him as such. ❜❜
CONTINUED FROM . @scourgeborne
𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒂 / 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗴𝗹𝗮𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗰𝗲 .
in a most regrettable adagio, as is its wont, comprehension’s contrite approach: the munition for her unseating has been galvanized by her own hand — this is how lady makes 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡, by feeding its mummer - mouth to surfeit, to intemperance. ( to be felled by indulgent dramaturgy; what merry cataclysm. ) costive assent transfigures athenaeum into theatre, spellwork wrought by this 𝒋𝒐𝒄𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆, his good cheer osmosing steadily into her discoid, byzantine existence. nigh - indistinct, the subsequent sound; a stifled symphony of rustle and slide culminating in exultant dictum — ( ascend, diaphane curtains of sight! ); this mahogany proscenium lacquered with a 𝐛𝐮𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 found only in the likes of him. revealed: candied decadence, ivory cream presaging gratification in a toothache.
❛❛ 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉, per se, ❜❜ upbraid half - meant: bolstered by brows loitering high upon her forehead, belied by appendages adroit in their sojourn to the boon, ❛❛ though i feel i must remind you that this is a library. ❜❜ ( see: ) from haven’s compendium of looming darkwood megaliths, one in particular is garnished with a bleached placard, branded incarnadine in the emission of minatory impression. unread, but recited nevertheless … ❛❛ 𝐧𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝, zack. ❜❜
it is here, beneath this flickering spotlight, that he embraces the full extent of such trivial enactment. a moment’s cremation for the shameless indignity he weaves this comedy from, from inception when the translucent thought had first appeared to him, to its natural - drawn conclusion. [ 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, so acutely lured from the origin of his errand that he could do no more than follow down the proverbial rabbit hole. and to the treasure trove that greets him ... well, can anyone really blame him for straying so? ] beneath blanket hush, to be laid upon by such judgment as that which these towering tomes bestow him: enough to demand subservience of any creature, any man, to which this particular one should pose no threat. and yet, abashment has never known home here, swept away from the dimpled hills of his daybreak smile. if nothing else, grieved chagrin could only ever boost the vein of puerile ignorance. ❛❛ 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒂𝒏𝒅? this is dessert! totally doesn’t count. ❜❜
steepled so deeply in the throes of sweet rebellion is he, surely stubbornness will make a fallen monument to him one day. to guide this glacial treat to its rightful destination: callous digits nudge it forth, ever so enticingly, a spider’s crawl as he bides for the fracture upon noble visage. then, the true icing on any cake, the consummate theatrical soul that rests within. ❛❛ come on, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞! ❜❜ succinct pleading makes a case for itself within the twin upslope draw of his brows, hands pressed together just so in trial prayer. ❛❛ and if you still don’t want it then i’ll take it back. ❜❜
𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒔 / 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔
and upon this tainted heart, a garden of rotting flesh. it is no more than quelled curiosity that can lead one to ask: for what treacherous purpose does it beat? but it is the world that has made it such, cruel in the way that only it can be, intoxicated upon the power of divine - given right. his body: 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞, a crumbling temple crafted of mortal bane, brought to salvation by the grace of deity goddess. oh, how effortlessly you could have mapped the crawl of descension into darkness, upon this canvas of memory skin.
[ what is the night sky, if not the dying place of stars? ]
𝐧𝐨𝐰: he breathes with crystal fragments bound to burning lungs, the promise of judgment at his blackened fingertips. there is no price too large to pay for the sins of those who have failed him so, and he shall exact revenge upon them all, in the same manner that they had impaled him to his own loyal sword. cut him open and drain him dry: these veins will bleed red no more.
❛❛ is that your suggestion? to just let it go? ❜❜ the languid nature of such spoken tones, a deceptive touch to the serpent that sits above his tongue. ❛❛ should i invite them over for tea too? ❜❜ lips fold arciform in simmering mirth, even as wrath strikes lightning sharp within sanguine eyes. paper never could hide the ferocity of a lit flame. he thinks of forgiveness, of leniency so easily given; an empty chalice tipped off balance, as the thickness of his hatred lays waste to his ribs. ❛❛ if i have to burn — then so be it. as long as i take all of them with me. ❜❜
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 . @asterites
CHARACTER AESTHETICS: IGNIS SCIENTIA.
BOLD what applies to your muse
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚈: chipped nail polish. glitter highlight. tall trees with smooth bark. tangled hair. the taste of cinnamon sugar. talking too loud and too fast. overgrown flowers in your hair. crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature. flirting. walking home at three am with no coat. platonic hand holding. blowing smoke out of your nose. dragonfly wings. chaotic good. freckles. fairy rings. secret meetings. gender nonconformity. leather. smudged eyeliner. forbidden fruit.
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙿𝙴𝚁: computer errors. a shiver down your spine. haunting beauty. hard liquor. crowns of thorns. shadowed alleyways. decaying plant matter. shattered mirrors and broken glass. corrupted memories. stopped clocks. the scent of stale cigarettes. tattered black hoodies. walking your friends home. the crescent moon. the sea. a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers. absolution. looking out of the window of an airplane. soft kisses.
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙲𝙷: graffiti. pretending to know what you’re doing. worn paperback books. growing up too fast. parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. lace and combat boots. moth wings. candles on every surface. a weathered deck of cards. turning the music up. fireflies in jars. calloused fingers. drawing on your skin. sunlight filtering through clouds. petrichor. a dying rose in a jar. wearing a crystal pendant. illusions of spells. black cats. mint gum. chapped lips. dirt under your fingernails. the cycle of life and death.
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵: murders of crows. frostbitten leaves. wolves howling at midnight. knocking on your door. leaving food out for stray animals. the twang of an acoustic guitar. honey. tiny red buds on trees. claw marks on the walls. golden eyes. slightly too long stubble. knitted fingerless gloves. sleeping on the forest floor. always find your way back home.
tagged: @sacrificedhe thank you!!!! this was fun 😊
tagging: @battleshot . @darkyr . @ensehven . @glorywaited . @hefrosts . @inanisvitae . @quartlet . @recadia + please steal and tag me!
𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 ... @rebelquilled sent:
hi, we haven’t interacted but just messaging to say your writing and characterization i’ve seen so far is beautiful and i hope to one day, keep being so amazing ❤️
i couldn’t in good conscience answer this until i wrote up your starter, which took far too long to magically word itself into existence, for which i am intensely apologetic!! and clearly the one who is amazing and fantastic and such a delight for me to see on the dash is none other than you: thank you so very much for taking your time to send this!!! it has quite literally made my entire week, which was starting to look a bit shaky near the end here but you really can never underestimate the power of a few positive words!
and i would like to return the favour as well, to say that your passion for xayah is something of a treat; all the headcanons, all the love you have for her!!! i used to write her as well, so to see her being brought to life with such capable hands? please take my entire heart and all of my dokis 😳❤️... i look forward to writing with you!!!! hope you don’t mind me bringing the dust with me because it’s been... a While since i last wrote irelia but i’m excited!!!
𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 . 𝘼𝘾𝘾𝙀𝙋𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂
4th Anniversary❤
Patreon | Redbubble
𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒂 / 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆
her heart, bleeding raw, is a heavy weight indeed. she is many things and none at all, the distorted reflection upon clear water. first: a beloved child of the land, to whom she will pledge each breath in protection of. then: the exalted champion for her people, thrust upon the precipice of victory that she snatched from the jaws of the enemy. but: 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲, one that she must shoulder with no fear, no hesitation, one that will never cease till every trace of noxian vermin is exterminated from the very air they pollute. and yet! where they should unite beneath one banner, 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧, like the bark of a dying tree that is poisoned of differing ideology and goals.
❛❛ we are all ionian. ❜❜ she fights, arduous and strained, to keep the tremble of emotion from her voice. an inhale that trails on the tail end of edging despair: 𝒊 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓. not here, of all place, in the heartland of one such fragmented path, another form of hostility. ❛❛ and we face a greater threat than each other. ❜❜
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 . @rebelquilled
𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒔 / 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲 .
;; – He’s a graceless thing, waking up with his cheek pressed against the glass of the window. It’ll leave a smudge that won’t be there by the next day, much like all the other marks he’s left behind each time he’s accompanied the other. Such things are predictable just like the tired groan , how he had fallen asleep in the first place , and the shrug of his thin shoulder as if to dismiss Ignis’s attempts and make the trip a worthless endeavour.
– ” Mnnnnh. ” But Noctis stirred and for the brief moment he’s forgotten what they were doing, he cast the most harrowing glare at the other. Absolutely seething with vehement irritation– at least until he remembers, and it drains out of him and leaves his face soft and sleepy, fondness filling his eyes at the familiar sight of his retainer cherished friend. The Prince rights his own body thereafter, hands clasped around the blanket to keep it around him when he bent one way, then the other, a few pops of his back and a sigh.
“Did you get the timing right?” Ignis never made mistakes, so the answer is already known by the time he’s asked. He almost wants to guess, but he’s made a promise not to spoil this surprise ; besides, words don’t compare to what the eyes can see. Such a thing is true when he gazes upon the sky itself through the window, his eyes widening once he’s opened the door and stepped out ; stars are more impressive than any description someone has offered him. He can even remember the first time they’d sat far from the hustle and bustle of the City to see them, pressed against each others side with hands intertwined. They’d been much younger then, himself a livelier and more affectionate young boy. No matter how he wished the strength to touch again he just can’t do it, so he settled with relishing the warmth Ignis provided by merely being there and waddling to his side of the car much like a penguin.
“They’re brighter than I remember. How long’s it been since we did this anyway? Like… A couple years? Seems like forever ago.”
the roused displeasured is, of course, to be expected. his touch is a light one, as swift as it is to retract from the other. the years have taught him much, in particular; the years with noctis are, in and of themselves, already an endurance of patience and tactful maneuvering. he is glad for the self - preservation instincts that have always served him well — except for, it would seem, the issue of this yearning heart that pulls him apart from the inside. how utterly troublesome, he would sigh aloud, to look upon the bleary - eyed prince before him and consider him the pinnacle of this heart’s desire.
he greets his rousing charge with a placid smile that traverses the curvature of his lips, before excusing himself to gather up the necessary accessories: a heavy blanket that he is swift to throw over the car roof, and the basket he had carried before. it seems tonight will be a wholly indulgent trip down nostalgic lane, gaze lured once more to the night sky that seems perpetually out of his reach. there is a love of the stars that spans the entire history of human civilization, and ignis has discovered at an early age an entire language created of star maps and the destinations that they could lead you. he had wanted nothing more than to share with noctis what he learned, of course, that very first time, huddled together in the way that only children could.
[ there is a legend, he had whispered then, excited despite the hush of his tone, that tells of a time before ifrit’s gift, when we had not learned how to combat the darkness that consumed the world in an endless cycle. in despair for our fate to perish every night but unable to stop it, an unnamed astral preserved each soul into a star and brought them up to the sky, where they would remain as guiding lights. ]
❛❛ ... far too long. ❜❜ the memory comes unbridled, and carries with it the touch of fragile sentiment. some things really will never change: the wanderlust of celestial heights, the impossible reality of what he had wished once upon a time. as tender a thought as it is melancholic, to stay in this eternal cycle, forever at parallel lines never to converge. 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝. had he always been so tempted for self - pity? surely he could not be so pathetic as this without reason ... and indeed, what a reason it is. ( “on behalf of the university of accordo...” ) confessions for another time, he decides, feeling the sharp whiplash of cowardice that has him distracting himself with the climb up to the car roof. an extension of his hand down to the prince, backlit by the canvas of stars. ❛❛ do you remember the promise i made you that first time? ❜❜
i haven’t talked about irelia at all so here are some small things:
she is horrible at offering emotional support of any sort. because of how she personally deals with her own problems, her go-to solution is to meditate it out — and in the event that doesn’t work, she’ll just pile the person full of sweets and tea and hope for the best.
when she gets stressed she has to be alone. disappear into the forest for a few hours then come back all stitched back up. climb up to the highest branch and sit there for a long time, unmoving. she does her thinking best when she is just by herself.
she does not get emotional when it comes to her feelings, though she still feels them all the same, just not to the extent that sometimes she could; anger, fear, even happiness. a lot of emotions seem hazy or distant, as if she is only channelling what she thinks they should feel like, rather than any genuine expression. it is a very sore point for her, that she emphasizes more with nature than she does with a lot of the people who live in it, and something she struggles with.
𝒊𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓 / 𝘁𝘄𝗼 - 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿 .
HE SMELT OF SHARP BLUE LYRIUM & SWEET EARTHY SPICE . dried sanguine lingers on from the remnants of blood on their armor , blades covered in the same cruor that coagulated into a slow moving mass . a martial artist’s self-defense was often brutal – especially paired with weapons made to cut & stab . there was a spray of blood that washed the inquisitor’s face , though it seemed the fog of war had long dissipated .
they crack a grin , canines glinting in the light as they stick out from the rest of his teeth – like sharp fangs , laughing at the Champion’s joke .
“ good to know you’re not the only one hungry , ” the elf senses the calm of the spirit at the back of his own mind , sated from the bloodlust . every now & then , it demanded a hunt so they took advantage of the expeditions out of Skyhold . “ all that work really takes out on yer , especially for stamina . ”
the arch of her back is a subtle, twisted thing; far too wretched, far too undisciplined, far too broken. or perhaps, not broken enough — the champion is but an unfinished puzzle, made to fit whichever piece she considers worth the effort. she is not a benevolent soul and she does not pretend at it, content to continue as she is; was kirkwall not enough adventure for a lifetime? then the sky had to go tear itself a shiny green hole and here she is, again, waist - deep in ... whatever it was that she had just ripped to shreds. they all start to look identical after the fifth one in.
❛❛ mm. make that two. ❜❜ a slow inhale that fills her lungs with putrid airs, so effortlessly expressed in the disdainful scrunch of her nose; a swipe of her hand against the fabric stretch of her thigh that serves only to smear it worse. no amount of washing will get these stains out, that’s for sure; a pity, these were her favorite pair. ❛❛ ... and a shower. the day we run out of squishy things to stab could not come any sooner. ❜❜
