#artisaen

[aguilareye]

✍️ + feixiao or acheron

Send me ✍️ + a muse, and I’ll try my hand at writing as them

Acheron  moves  like  a  storm  that  forgets  mercy.  Her  blade  hums  and  The  Swarm  doesn’t  just  fall.  It  ceases.  The  carapaces  carved  apart  in  a  singular  clean  and  merciless  stroke  that  leaves  only  silence  in  its  slash.  She  doesn’t  rush.  She  doesn’t  need  to.  The  battlefield  bends  around  the  emanator's  inevitability.  Death  approaches  with  the  clack  of  her  heels. 

One  creature  lunges  for  her  companion's  blind  side  and  it  never  reaches  him.  Steel  flashes,  followed  by  silence  and  Acheron  stands  there,  blade  lowered,  another  corpse  dissolving  at  her  feet,  the  ends  of  her  hair  returning  with  its  original  plum  color. 

“  Careful,  Ranger,  ”  she  says  to  him,  voice  quiet  as  distant  thunder.  “  I  would  not  want  your  last  farewells  to  be  uttered  here.” 

He  scoffs  at  her, cracking  a  shark  tooth  grin.  " Y'worried  ‘bout  me?  Acheron. ” 

Swarm  surge  forward  and  the  pair  move  at  the  same  time,  no  time  for  banter.  Gunfire  and  violet  arcs  split  open  the  skies.  They  fall  into  a  rhythm,  unspoken  yet  trusting  of  each  other's  ability.  Boothill  drives  the  bugs  back  with  explosive  force,  each  shot  carving  space  and  daring  the  enemies  closer. 

Acheron  fills  the  gaps  and  guards  his  back,  her  sword  a  whisper  of  finality,  ending  what  dares  slip  through.  Hunter  and  storm.  Bullet  and  blade.

Then,  in  the  heartbeat  between  clashes,  Acheron  steps  forward,  cutting  through  three  creatures  in  a  single  motion.  She  doesn’t  look  at  him  when  she  speaks.  Her  hair  white  as  snow.  Blood  flowers  blooming  along  her  porcelain  forearm and up to her shoulder.  The  air  smells  like  petrichor,  like  rain  has  fallen. 

“How  does  it  feel,  Hunter?”

Another  swing.  Clean  and  absolute.  The  Swarm  parts  like  wheat  before  a  scythe.

“  To  be  hunted?  ”

Boothill  lets  out  a  breath,  half  a  laugh,  half  something  sharper.  He  spins  his  revolver,  snapping  off  two  shots  without  looking.  Two  more  monsters  drop.  He  steps  up  beside  Acheron,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  her  as  another  wave  begins. 

“I  reckon  I  don’t  mind  the  company.” 

Acheron  doesn’t  smile.  She  looks  out  beyond  the  darken  horizon  and  her  blade  lingers  half  a  second  longer  at  his  side  before  the  next  strike.  And  together,  they  shine.  They  cut  a  path  through  the  dark.

[grislyintentions]

Closed starter for @artisaen

"Sorry for the wait, darling."

Unlike her fellow Stellaron Hunters who preferred the more straightforward missions, Kafka found entertainment in ones like these; where they would have to play the roles they are given for the occasion. There's nothing more satisfying than waiting for the final reveal and watching the expressions of those around her morph from shock to horror.

"I hope you haven't missed me too badly while I was gone."

Then again, Sam wasn't entirely wrong about her penchant for playing with her food. But hey, where else would she get the opportunity to doll herself up once in a while?

Several rarities will be displayed at the auction tonight, including the stellaron they were sent to retrieve (an intricately designed antique vase molded from frosted glass and gold detailing). Silver Wolf and Sam are awaiting the extraction.

All Blade and her have to do is pose as an influential pair, get in, cause a distraction at the right moment and kill the lights.

For now, Kafka will take the crook of his arm whilst they wait to be admitted and surreptitiously slide someone else's entrance token into his pocket.

"Well? How do I look?"

It is plain to see the mischief in her gaze when she smiles.

[tragedicna]

            ❝  ay . . . @artisaen — dàgē . . . what a coincidence  ,  we meet again  !!  ❞  ———  a fluke in the time flow  ,  yingxing finds himself in the future  .  or so he's managed to discern with some help from his special dàgē   ,  a man with a familiar face . . . his own face  ,  in actuality  .  the term dàgē was something yingxing decided to use just to tease and taunt his future self ; though , blade looked ever unfazed by it's use . ever since their initial crossing  ,  somehow  ,  their paths always crossed at random . . . perhaps it's mostly because yingxing is a CURIOUS man to begin with  .  he liked to explore  ,  to touch  ,  to investigate and that curious nature is what lands him in the time flow of his FUTURE SELF  ;  it's never been the other way around  .  yingxing feels a bit of sadness to find that his future self had lost that . . . curiosity and light in their eyes . . .              ❝  dàgē  ,  your eyes might fall out of it's socket if you glare at me any more  ,  ❞  yingxing says  ,  propping his head up with a hand as he regards his  ❛  older self  ❜  ,  peering up with false innocence dancing in his gaze  .  a soft hum as yingxing sits up from his slouched posture  ,  ❝  to my defense . . . it was an ACCIDENT this time  ,  ❞  the blacksmith holds up his hand in surrender  .

[pietysmoveds]

@artisaen joined the party!

❝      ...something      caught      your      eye?      ❞      girlish      simper      tugs      'pon      feol's      lips      as      she      tentatively      gazes      over,      mismatched      hues      skimming      over      his      figure.      he      was...      admittedly,      sticking      out      like      a      sore      thumb      compared      to      the      rest      of      the      crowd.      ❝      it's      impolite      to      stare.      ❞

[bitterseadrop-a]

@artisaen // plotted starter .

sorrow & despair  ──  nigh centuries have passed since she had felt those emotions to the highest extent. some days, she felt curious to remember what they were like. although now that her wish had been granted, she thoroughly regretted it. when destiny's slave offered a guiding hand, she had not anticipated to end up standing before the one she once dearly held close to her heart.

a close companion that she deemed worthy of her trust  ──  only to then be ripped away from her by supposed death. a whirlwind of emotions ranging from ecstasy to confusion and even anger made itself home inside her. finally while gripping on the last strands of her composure, she took notice of his demeanor & settled on a conclusion. even so, of all the words she could have given him, she gave him a plea.     ❝ don't look at me like i am a stranger. ❞

[serapholy]

By fate's design you and her crossed paths in this vast world, and it is equally by a stroke of luck that the pale canvas she represents is colored surprised when you hand her over the bingo card. A little thing without substance, one fashioned through a seer machine to be ominously close to her person. Quietly does Cartethyia inspect the position of the stickers you have added (more than she would have imagined, mind you). Lapis lazuli irises soften with recognition through the few visible letters the stickers do not cover your choices, imprints her in her heart. Ever since the day of your first encounter, your presence has been like a whisper: silent yet lingering. A welcoming presence loyal to her person without a motive for her to understand why. The saint watches you turn your back to her, your ruby gaze in her eyes as if to announce the continuance of your journey. Through that action, she understands thus: no words needed, just accept it for what it is. And accept Cartethyia shall do, although not only that. You, a man of mysterious origins and even more enigmatic drives in life, would be willing to give so much for her. Notwithstanding the fact that there is a tacit acknowledgement of what just transpired, she vows in her heart to extend the very same. So she folds the bingo card neatly and saves it carefully in one of the inner pockets of her attire before following after your steps. One hand rests on your shoulder, a squeeze for a silent thank you after as her hand slips by her side anew.

☥ @artisaen sent a bingo card ♥︎

[serapholy]

☥ @artisaen asked: gently places a 🔥 topic of your choice !

When it comes to rebloggable posts that I classify as being a general consensus across the RPC, there is a very fine line between meaning good and wanting to convey comfort to other people and coming across as hypocritical. Before anything, I want to preface that I have nothing against this kind of posts as I'm aware that they come from a place of goodwill. But as I was saying in an earlier post about double-faced communities, I want to address how even here that can happen.

To put an example: all portrayals are valid no matter if you stick 100% to canon or choose a canon divergent way. Sure, every portrayal is valid and everyone is free to write however they want their muse until it no longer is. Mainly because this may not reach everyone's expectations. These happen because, if both ends of the story are acquainted with the character and fandom, both ends will have a pre-conceived interpretation of the character and canon. You may like the way a mun portrays a character or you may not. Maybe it's the worldbuilding. Maybe it's the very way you write and not so much the portrayal in itself. There is some degree of comfort in seeing people being acceptant of divergences of characters they know (or not, and they still come to like through your vision), but at the same time it still falls into the category of not being on the same boat as that person and making them believe that you are. Surely, everyone will interpret this however they want and it's not someone's fault that another may interpret your actions differently, nor is their duty to curate someone else's space that isn't their own.

Another example: memes, relationships, interactions in general have no expiration date— you're free to take as much time as you need. This may be true until it does have an expiration date written in very small letter at the bottom page, if at all. Everyone has their own standards on how much they're willing to wait for someone for xyz. In my case, not everything has to be strictly about writing: it can be talking from mun to mun, send things to each other that remind them of their muses or their dynamics, plotting behind the scenes when time limitations don't allow writing, what have you. Take as much time as you need should be a standard and I think that it is to some extent, but it isn't always respected nor are some people willing to give a nudge despite the fact that in some blogs' rules, it's specifically stated that people are free to give them a nudge if they're taking too long to answer something.

Like these, I have seen more examples up to debate how entirely genuine they are.

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion → Accepting!

[chaieos]

in pride month