If You Think I Don’t Go Through The Efforts For Friends. @feyquil Had Me Get Into A Custom League Match

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how do u feel abt my rakan?

FROSTY THIS VALIDATION FROM YOU.....IS THIS THE REAL FROSTY???? WHO ARE YOU

              ❛     sorry,     xayah,     did you say something   ?     ❜     not his intention to ignore her ever,     simply that whatever immediate thought that coursed through his mind caught his attention.     maybe he should apologize again.     ❛     was thinking about something.     could you run that by me again   ?     ❜       ///       @corvalis

Reblog if your muse is Bisexual

Other pride-flag bubbles for your muses: [LGTBQA+] [Ace] [Aro] [Panromantic/-sexual] [Grey-Asexual] [Demi-Asexual] [Gay] [Lesbian] [Transgender] [Intersex] [Agender] [Genderfluid] [Nonbinary]

goggles.     ///     yi-dashi.

Dance was notunknown to Yi, which was perhaps why he’d been drawn to the performance in the first place.Plenty of his people had been dancers, and in Rakan he found some form of nostalgia. When the people of Wuju could not apply their sword-crafts to battle or contests, their grace became art. To the beat of drums, a curated form of swordplay hadcome alive in performance. Back then, Yihad ignored any mentors of the arts, preferring swords for their edges ratherthan aesthetics. There were many more important things to be done, he told them all. Whywould he need to remember every single Wuju play?

That thinkinghad got him to the present, standing before the other with flurries of compliments. Butthe nostalgia grew bitter the longer he pondered it. How much had he forgotten?

“… What isnew?” He offered, after shaking off his simmering malaise. The other’s bravado was much more captivating than thoughts of the past, “Acknowledgement of workwell done? Surely, I would hope you are given more credit for the performance youprovide? You speak as if you are aware of your own skill, and I suppose they would not host you here if not for the skill of it. Thepractice is apparent, and I am hope you are not the only one telling yourself this.”

Stroking athis beard, the Bladesman’s lenses clunked back into theircasings suddenly. Behind them, the man found himself wincing as hebecame aware of a missed introduction. That, and the name ‘Goggles,’ which seemed to slap him for his missed formality. Not very palatable to his ears certainly, and his first instinct was to scold the Vastayan for it. But be polite, Yi. Thatwas the least he could offer. Let it go once, and make sure he has no reason to call you it again.

He steadiedhis expression, and his goggles along with it, as he continued with his measured tone, “Ah, I think I have gotten ahead of myself. Please forgive me Rakan, I have not thought to announce myself. It is not Goggles, as yousay. I am known as Master Yi. I travel widely, and I was not expecting to spendmy time here this day. So, if you have things you must attend to, please do notlet this man keep you. If you would tell me more of your dances however, I would surely be interested in hearing it.”

At least that gave him an exit, if he’d truly managed to offend.

              such a new song to settle upon his ears,     appealing to some base desire that yearns for praise    &    attention     (   oh,     how it dwells in his heart   !   ),     rekindling the passionate fire of his heart that continuously reminds him of this skill's benefits    :    the endless praise from others,     their attention,    &    their inevitable admiration held for none but rakan,     rakan,     rakan.     hah,     to stroke massive ego could be considered folly to some,     albeit rakan feels differently.     this praise is divine,     it is a pleasure he indulges himself in,     caring not for the scorn directed towards him through malevolent gazes     ———     envy,     repulsive sentiment he understands all too well     ———     but beauty's irresistible grace allows him to persevere,     to continue his performance without worry of what others thought.

              ❛     you'd be surprised,     goggles   !     ❜     again with the nickname,     escaping past lips naturally,     at a smooth ease the world could not compete with.     coolness itself,     is rakan in that moment.     'till he recognizes own blunder     /     stranger had been naught but kind to him     (   but within lies an expectation of kindness from all   !!   )     hah,     only a fool would believe that.     it is only luck that he's not being chased down by yet another angry guard with hopes of capturing for his feathers,     or perhaps his head.     ❛     sorry,     sorry,     that was my bad.     master yi,     right   ?     ❜     took a moment,     certainly,     but he's quick to correct himself,     purely out of courtesy     (     that,    &    he'd like to try to remember this guy's name.   )     ❛     i just don't get that sort of praise often,     really.     lot of clapping,     cheering,    &    staring,     but who can blame 'em   ?     either way,     it feels nice to have someone know i work pretty damn hard on each dance   !     ❜

              oh,     but don't let him speak of those countless nights where spirit of song    &    dance resonate within him,     indulging himself in that selfish pleasure of dance,     song   !!     the true passion that feels like his calling,     that feels right down to every sweet melody.     it matters not if it's from dusk to dawn,     it is the happiness conjured from each second that mattered   !

              ❛     aaaaaaaanyway,     ❜     after brief pause,     voice fills the air again,     waiting's too boring    &    leaving honored guest without answer to query is way too rude.     abandoning the routinely,     rather lonesome evening after a festival sounds pleasing.     a taste of something new surely was needed,     even if it wasn't a sweet,     chocolatey delicacy.     ❛     if you wanna hear all about my dancing,     then i could tell you all about 'em   !     maybe even show you some,     too.     consider yourself my guest of honor   !!     err,     though i don't exactly have a place.     i just wander around.     ❜

              ❛     you call that a fight   ?     ❜    taunting is he,     at so - called   '   king of the pit,   '     truly a presumptuous title,     befitting for someone so full of himself,     he supposes.     there may not be any benefit in messing with one whose arm looks to be near the size of his own head     (   seriously,     what is up with this guy   ?   ),     yet rakan cares little if there's danger involved.     he's in it for the entertainment aspect.     who better to entertain himself than himself,     creating these stimulating situations,     evoking an innate desire for living on the edge   ?     ❛     c'mon,     you can put a little more passion into that next time   !     ❜     a critique from his high spot,     observant gaze peering down at king from above.     far out of his reach.     ❛     otherwise,     your fighting's just boring.     needs a little more oomph to it   !     ❜       ///       @calledcard​

idk who i haven’t interacted w/ yet so like. here’s an inbox call! hit that neat little like for rakan in ur inbox!!

just did a castrum run and randomly ran into @flowihnd​ there, what’re the odds!!!!

the end.     ///     quartlet.

LAUGHTER PEELS FROM THE VOID BELOW,   the sound curdles and quivers,  unfurling vast tapestries of discordant clangs and pinches of pink noise.  He laughs.  laughs in the face of hopelessness,   laughs for all the putty flesh that makes him,  him.  may he lose himself in this sound,  in the lights ahead and all around.  trillions of them,  distant and dead from this vantage point.  they breathe their last sigh before bowing unto the encroaching Darkness,  the era of black holes and pristine emptiness unwound and unbound,  the era of rogue planets spinning into ad infinitum until their iron cores consume them from the inside out.  how they scream !  how they dream !  how they die  !  HE LAUGHS.  He mourns.  He weeps for no others may dare try,  no tears can be wetted upon a vast cheek. 

❛  NO,  you did not,  DiD yOu ? ❜  those last words are snatched by a static pulse,  a static hum.  it skips and fragments.  dislodged from all meaning yet perfectly riddling itself inside cosmic bones and welts of nebulae.   at this,  the God Without a Throne bends,  His unforeseeable eye narrows while laughter dies at the cavern of His might throat.  when it ends,  so too does a dead star’s drawn out agony before He peels it apart,  carves it up like satin,  splays it across the sky before it bubbles and foams into lesser atoms.  drawing lines with the sickled tips of claws,  almost lazily,  thoughtlessly.  

how fortunate this one is,  to be a creature of somewhat significance,  his guts not entirely composed of organic matter,  for deep down there were flecks of stardust.   in fact,  He could gaze into the depths of his soul.  find every knick and knot.  pull back and laugh again at the simplicity.  He does not such thing,  instead,  He merely stares and stares and stares.  unblinking.  unflinching.  wild choruses reverberate across a thousand lightyears,  their instant breaks into eternity as their throats are ripped from their bodies in a ceremony of entropy.  stone cold moons orbit in the distance,  suns follow behind,  then all at once they are swallowed whole.  ❛  but you did it for her  … ❜  spoke He,  ❛  did you not ?  you took all the darkness that lay dormant inside you both,  you consumed it WhOlE in hopes to bring about salvation.  ❜

another cackle wretches from the beyond.  the voice was high pitched,  clammy,  scratching.  then another one bows into boils of laughter,  then another after that,  until there is another wicked choir set on mocking the little soul before them.  He does nothing.  He does not laugh.  what liquid matter swirled inside that eye turns its attention to the side,  and before long,  the laughter stops.  the supermassive black hole gurgling at his side also gazes beyond,  far beyond,  unto everything and nothing.  it hungers and so does He. a hushed,  ancient purr fills rakan’s weary ears this time.  were he anyone else,  the sound alone would have carved his mind into half.  ❛  pitiful little guardian,  i should destroy you here and now for your failure,  yet  …  i am a BeNeVoLeNt god.  i will offer you a chance. ❜ 

              O,     STARS ABOVE   !!     how your gleaming presence was filled with lies upon lies,     how each twinkle was nary a sign of hope,     each was hushed deceit to manipulate star guardian from young.     //     ah,     how destiny once held benign promise of freedom,     to grant power of flight through mere action of accepting contract that has bounded him to this fate,     to see his name next to those who have fallen   !!!     his dreams,     that of jubilant singer whose comrades were the very stars themselves,     a star who shined like no other,     a guardian that offered benevolence    &    promises of a future hope to the stars that have so nurtured him from young age,     who have meticulously watched every move,     every quiet night he sung,     every passionate dance performed     ———     the stars were no audience,     they were initial saviors that furthered his passion     //     bah,     but what is passion for one who's been consumed by darkness of the galaxy,     who,     in reality,     resigned freedom to fall for a light that cares not for those it deems worthy guardians.

              each vocable leaving this malevolent god did not sound real.     reality had been distorted,     reality's once intact mirror had been shattered,     it is no longer chained by the rules of logic nor the everyday occurrences.     the sun was no longer the mighty light that graced them with vision,     that aided life's tasks with ease,     that dawned beyond the horizon with promises of a new day    &    the vibrant hope that lied within its grasp.     it was irresistible.     to reject the sun's light   ?     unimaginable.     even as a guardian,     fighting for the first light's honeyed promises of doing the right thing    &    saving the stars,     the sun had always been revered for its might.     to see what once shined so brilliantly be crushed with ease,     it defies all precedents of his perceived reality.     all is fair game.     he is nothing.     status of a guardian greatly diminished when curtain unveiled the horrors that lied beyond mundane tasks    :    what gods of total destruction the first light kept secret from them,     there is no strength in donning facade against them,     no hope,     no hope,     even if he wishes not to reveal the miseries deep within,     the grief dying starlight holds within him,     there is no use in hiding.

              ❛     i did it for her.     ❜    damned pity,     from a god who knows naught of his plight.     he is bold,     blasphemous,     furious.     grit teeth,     surely baring them as means to intimidate,     barely containing anger against supposed hand that is of a deceptive warmth,     one that may offer a promise,    a sliver of hope,     but he's had it with hope.     hope is not the foundation for brighter future,     it is the ruination   !!     it is what impedes growth,     it is what led him to his fate.     to reject this hand is to reject hope.     ❛     &    i'd do it again.     again    &    again.     ❜     daring,     daring,     limbs moving without thought put into each action, advancing towards the large form,     as if to face it.     face him.     face the end.     ❛     you think i'd take another chance   ?     the same way the first light offered a chance to be a star guardian   ?     the way i was offered a chance to be alive again,     only to lose a huge part of me   ?     i don't give a damn if you're a bene     ...     benevu- whatever, point is,     i'm done taking chances.     you offering one won't make a difference.     you destroy.     you don't create life.     ❜

❥     𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .

inspired  by  devotedecay’s  non - sexual  acts  of  dominance  meme  ! send  in  one  of  these  for  my  muse’s  reaction  to  … (  add  ❝  reverse  ❞   if  you’d  like  to  see  how  my  muse  would  preform  the  action  !  )

[ shower ]   your muse joining mine in the shower.

[ choke ]   your muse choking mine.

[ kiss + soft ]   your muse pulling mine into a tender kiss.

[ kiss + rough ]   your muse pulling mine into a rough kiss.

[ pin ]   your muse pinning mine down.

[ wrists ]   your muse roughly grabbing mine by the wrists.

[ push ]   your muse pushing mine into bed.

[ rip + clothing ]   your muse tearing a piece of clothing off my muse.

[ spank ]   your muse spanking mine.

[ pull ]   your muse pulling my muses hair.

[ talk ]   your muse talking dirty to mine.

[ eyes ]   your muse making mine look them in the eyes during.

[ down ]   your muse pulling mine down by their collar / clothes.

[ knees ]   your muse telling mine to get on their knees.

[ hips ]   your muse pulling mine in close by the hips.

[ denial ]   your muse putting mine through orgasm denial.

[ many ]   your muse making mine orgasm over and over.

[ tied ]   your muse tying my muse down.

[ lazy ]   your muse lazily beginning to touch mine.

[ love ]   your muse telling mine they love them during.

[ dominance ]   your muse taking the lead and dominating mine.

[ submission ]   your muse letting mine take the lead and submitting to them.

[ humiliation ]   your muse humiliating mine, re: name-calling and verbal abuse.

[ pain ]   your muse hurting mine in bed, whether intentionally or not.

[ knife ]   your muse using a knife in bed, whether for threat or actually cutting mine.

[ hidden ]   your muse having sex with mine somewhere semi-public.

[ public ]   your muse having sex with mine in public, whee other people watch.

[ adore ]   your muse being near reverent with mine in bed.

[ dress ]   your muse having mine dress up in lingerie.

[ eat ]   your muse eating mine out.

[ sleep ]   your muse touching / beginning to have sex with mine while they’re asleep.

[ gag ]   your muse gagging mine, or or making them be quiet.

[ blindfold ]   your muse blindfolding mine.

[ praise ]   your muse praising mine in bed.

[ good ]   your muse calling mine a good boy / girl.

[ want ]   your muse telling mine they want them.

[ snarl ]   your muse growling and / or baring their teeth at mine during sex.

[ mark ]   your muse purposefully marking mine up with bruises, hickies, ect.

[ wall ]   your muse shoving mine up against a wall.

paris // chainsmokers