#kukuku.

[michelangelowept]

@kinomorebi from mahito, the little freakazoid.

"you get really mad while you're fighting." voice like a child, angelic, looks like a sleeper build with a modeling contract. "i kinda get the impression it's painful for you." and so he comes to a conclusion all by himself for her, tying all her complicated up in a simple bloody bow: "you're straining yourself too much. you don't have enough fun with it."

he's creeping from somewhere overhead the commotion. underground tunnel system, lots of runaway curses. he crosses one leg over the other, chin to palm while he waits for her to figure out where he is. she wasn't by herself a minute ago, but the white-haired guy with the blindfold (was it a sleeping mask? he did seem pretty bored) went off in another direction. oh well. probably for the best. that guy was strong.

mahito smiles, dreamy. "that's why they think you're weak."

[valdorin-a]

   it hadn’t been long since they both returned from errands. ellarian had sat down and after a moment or two of idle conversation about their days, asyrn had offered to fetch him a glass of water. but even as he moved about the kitchen his eyes always wandered back to his lover, lingering by the rolled up sleeves, the exposed forearms. there wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before and yet… he stared. as he walked up from behind, he set the glass on the table, though his palms settled flat on ellarian’s spine, fingers then following the leather straps of his harness that curved over his shoulders, as his lips found a familiar spot on the elve’s jaw. “... think dinner can wait a little?”

for once, the damnable inferni can fucking wait. days bleed into each other and ellarian is practically teetering with exhaustion. he only managed to finish what they needed to do today; the elf can't complain today. it was mundane. domestic that he actually enjoyed himself out there with asyrn. the elf district provided enough of that. then they came home. home. plants and life and asyrn, melts the battle-hardened elf as he nods to asyrn. sleeves rolled up, collar loose. the leather holster a firm reminder of the day.

until he feels familiar hands flatten themselves against his back. a deep sound rumbles from his throat, one asyrn can probably discern as playful. while the other's fingers follow the shape of the harness, ellarian takes a long drink from the glass of water, letting his muscles and shoulders relax under his touch. at his question, ellarian leans back sorta, side-glancing the other elf curiously, heavy brow arched. " if you think you can wait a little longer. " and there's a glint in his eye.

[valdorin-a]

[peck]

Thyra’s soft and warm hand gently comes to Ellarian’s cheek as she gently stands on the tip of her toes to press her lips to his cheek in a soft and affectionate manner.

The smell of herbs coming off of her, her red curly hair waist length and falling over her shoulder as it brushes against him at her close proximity.

 ―  𝑫𝑰𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑬. @thyra-athenor selectively accepting.

their commander had moved their camp for better grounds when their previous encampment had been discovered by a dh'oine. it was simply bad luck, and ellarian killed the hunter without a thought more as he drove his blade into their gut. knowing humans would come looking for them, a single gesture and command had them packing within the afternoon and the elves are settling in now, situated on higher ground and the perfect view of a red dusk.

a little further was his tent. it offered a bit more privacy. standing there with thyra, armour discarded in his tent, sword on his hip, this is as relaxed as he has allowed himself.

he was beginning to like the she-elf more with each passing day. even if he doesn't show it. her presence is calming, and like her fiery lengths, it's akin to sitting beside a small fire in the coldest of nights. someone to warm that dead heart of his.

despite this, her sudden touch stills him like a deer about to be staked. eyes widen momentarily, a silent question beckoning a reason for her mannerisms. alas, he finds himself drawn like a moth with a surrender, eyes drifting closed and a deep breath to savour her scented lengths. his fingers come up to take parted hair when her lips grace his marred cheekbone. ellarian grunts a response, but a hand settles on her shoulder, preventing her from going any further.

❛ is this your form of thanks? ❜ he means potentially saving her life from an aggravating witch hunter weeks back. he had more remorse for putting an animal out of its misery, a broken shaft of an arrow stuck and diseased. the witch hunter? the blood was wiped clean without a second thought. ❛ you could have just said so. ❜

[phantom-stalker]

I'm tempted to go to google images and save all the spinosaurus images I can find and go crazy with more edits 

I specialize in teasing my kawaii friends 

My mutual follow-reblog-friend-person-who-I-should-work-up-the-courage-to-talk-to-person can help me with that most likely 

[nara-shika-blog]

-le sulks quietly-