Unprompted.     /     always Accepting   !!

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!!

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@quartlet​ said :   u are late for ur dick appointment

damn again   ?     guess we’ll have to do two dick sessions in one huh

OH YEAH btw i............am thinking on a fe3h verse for rakan. n i’ve thought about it for a bit, and think that i’ve decided to make him a part of the leicester alliance! whether he’s of noble blood or not idk yet bc......i’d love to give him a crest that could prevent counter attacks sometimes, u feel me? n also. i know u have to choose your unit to make a dancer but rakan’s already a dancer unit and u can’t tell me otherwise! OH AND. ALSO. i’m gonna make him a mage bc i don’t think there’s anything he could be better at than reason and faith magic? ( he’s probably more adept with faith than reason, i’d say ) i’m gonna go ahead n say he can’t be recruited into edelgard’s house unless xayah’s there but. u know. LFDJHFDH

how do u feel abt my rakan?

I FEEL LIKE I’M GETTING REPETITIVE SO I JUST WANNA TELL ALL OF YOU......THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU SM!!

              ❛     that's     ...     not how you wear a mask,     buddy.     ❜     could it even be called a mask if it only partly covered one side of the face   ?     not really.     he doesn't think so,     at least.     ❛     think there's better ones out there you could try on,     just a thought   !     ❜       ///       @destructivour​

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@lightshielded​ said :   ' you shine so brightly. ' the dawn's light dancing about the blackened night was entrancing, the singularity's whispers ever louder in its presence. the dark star was slow with its movements, almost apathetic to how long his actions take, simply taking time to admire the star dust flicker out as it waft over him. lance in hand, the dark star corruptant glided towards the court's dawn. ' so bright and so warm ... but your light is fleeting, ephemeral. how lucky it must be to end so quickly. '

              ❛     &    a little funny you think that you even hold the power to suppress light.     ❜     the dark star's will remains resolute,     it wishes to obliterate all that has been created    :    these newborn stars,     the light of dawn that he beckons,     dusk's fall,     it wishes to cease this perpetual state of order    &    replace it with a dreadful chaos that lacked order.     it wanted all to only know darkness.     it wanted all to accept the dark star,     thereby granting a darkness that resides within all to manifest    &    overtake every aspect of one's being.     for one that controls the dawn,     he is all too aware of what light's sacrifice may lead to,     how these actions may facilitate an inevitable end,     causing his undoing,     thus relinquishing this gift of light bestowed unto him.     

              there's a cant of his head,     a collected smile     (   more akin to a smirk,     with corner of his lips tugged upwards   ),     he speaks    &    his words are soft,     forsaking the once boisterous persona to adopt a steadfast stance.     he shall not fall.     ❛     light never ends,     ❜     singular limb shifts,     slow,     index curling,     pressing between lip    &    chin,     arctic hues landing upon presumed object of his undoing.     a single lance.     an unfamiliar weapon.     no matter how alien it may seem,     the art of combat is a dance he is all too familiar with.     the dark star knows naught of dance    &    its beauty.     to this,     the advantage is his.     ❛     doesn't matter if dawn sets    &    darkness paints the sky     ...     the dawn will always rise.     ❜     it's his task as the court's dawn to shine.

boss.     ///     halvett.

          BANTER  SUCH  AS  THIS  IS  commonplace  in  the  life  of  a  pit  fighter ;  the  type  of  clothing  he  wears ,  whether  hewn  from  rough  fabric  or  fine  silk ,  means  nothing  but  the  end  of  one  battle  and  the  beginning  of  another .  (  Being  clad  in  luxury  matters  little  in  the  face  of  a  living ,  breathing  challenge   ————   and  agile ,  glib  and  witty  as  Rakan  may  be ,  Sett  will  respond  to  his  taunts  with  a  smile .  )  “  Do  I  now ?  ”  he  responds ,  matching  Rakan’s  sneer  with  a  fanged  one  of  his  own .  “  Think  my  track  record  says  enough  about  my  strength ,  don’t’cha  think ?  Oh ,  but  wait   ——   I  forget  you  don’t  keep  track  of  that  kinda  thing .  ”  He  shifts ,  takes  a  single  step  towards  Rakan  to  make  to  invade  his  personal  space ,  posture  the  perfect  mix  of  arrogant  and  playful .  Two  can  play  at  this  game ,  and  dancing  is  nothing  if  not  another  form  of  combat .  “  I  could  set  up  a  demonstration  in  the  ring  if  you’re  willin’  to  dance ,  pretty  boy .  ”

              HOW A SMILE CAN CONVEY     delicacy in its most rich forms,     how it is attributed to moments of peace    &    dulcet times where chaos had been so denied entrance to maintain this conjured serenity.     but what of those smiles whose purpose is to taunt,     whose sole purpose is to stir chaos,     to invoke a muse that shall witness acts of violence,     dutifully performed for naught but entertainment.     (   this was fun,     this was a show,     &    though two may stand center stage,     rakan is beauty's gift upon the world.     sett is yet another face in rakan's audience.   )

              ❛     do you know who you're talking to   ?     ❜     not once does he falter in the face of danger,     even as he comes closer,     there is no reason to lose upright posture    ;    no,     rakan challenges him,     he is one to always smirk    &    laugh in the face of adversity   !!     laugh,     laugh he does,     not hearty,     as it's a mere chuckle.     the boss of the pits must know the truth    :    he does not fear him,     especially when one wishes to duel him in his own craft.     (   that     ...     is what he meant,     right   ?   )     ❛     rakan,     charmer,     best dancer in all of ionia.     seriously,     challenging me to a dance,     you sure about that   ?     i thought fighting was more your style,     but who am i to deny anyone a dance   !?     ❜     hyped up,     step forward,     preparing himself for supposed dance battle.     he was here to fight,     but this works,     too   !

Reblog if your muse is Bisexual

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meme.     /     accepting.

@quartlet​ said :   o we doing this???????? okay [ blindfold ]

              TO DANCE UPON THE FLAMES OF DANGER had been a viable way of producing entertainment,     be it evoking ire from men that had no control over own emotions,     thus constituting their subsequent violent attempts at ceasing life's song from blessing vastaya's ear     /     alas for them,     he does not so simply allow one to intervene,     his death is not nigh,     it is a whispered tale amongst the laypersons that believe each deed he takes,     each course of action seized,     is a death wish that facilitates death's chilly embrace.     ah,     how such could not be further from the truth.     /     life's song is one he's heard for oh,     so long,     no matter her repeated melody,     no matter how each verse is similar to another,     there was enough to decipher one note from the other,     enough knowledge of what makes the world go round that could be attuned into her performance.     she may be her own orchestra,     but rakan's attention will not falter.     for if a double bar drew near,     the end would only be evincing itself.     the climax of her piece had been reached.     it is reaching a velvety pianissimo,     each sound growing more silent     ...     yet rakan smirks.

              her song plays in the back of his head,     but for how long   ?     he opts to toy with fire again,     to lavish touches upon certain maestro's body,     to admire the scrawny stature that had been capable of doing oh,     so much.

              he knows,     he knows of the dangers that lurk within his course of actions,     he is astutely aware of how that gun,     tailored to his sense of fashion,     is loaded with the bullets of his undoing.     one.     that is all that's needed for him to become a beauteous work of art,     his feathers aflame    &    each limb in his body feeling the burning sensation as each part of him contorts into a phenomenal arrange of roses.     yes,     only he is capable of making scarlet liquid flowing through him to adopt the exterior of petals from beloved roses.     

              fingers delicately admire biceps,     gripping,     testing for a specific reaction.     to evoke even one noise,     a pleasured melody from jhin,     a sign that he enjoys this.     what comes next     ...     it's a blur.     one moment,     rakan's hands are roaming across clothed body,     an overt attempt to entice him,     to see if a virtuoso may so easily succumb to lust,     see him in a more vulnerable light.     /     there's one absolute truth he's come to accept,     that jhin himself is a poison he must not drink from,     that to bare any sort of heart to him may prove to hold dire consequences,     for a tale of love    &    care shall not prevail at the end of this story,     at the end of their story.     he cares naught for it.     if khada jhin is the chalice filled with very wine that held a transient moment of euphoria,     very one many warned rakan of to not drink from,     for death lies at the end of this cursed drink,     he would drink from it regardless of their pleas.     owed to his confidence in hearing life's song     ...     owed to his insatiable curiosity that wanted more of jhin.     more.     MORE   !!!

              it was to no avail.     sight had been relinquished,     albeit not permanently.     rakan finds himself on his knees,     blindfolded,     breath erratic for a moment as he attempts to recollect his memories of what occurred for it to lead here.     nothing.     a fool too lost in his own pleasure to connect what happened,     now he is left to hum,     wonder at what jhin plans to do.     the only man that could kill him had the upper hand here,     the only man who could so easily grant him chance to hear the end of life's performance holds the gift of sight,     even through that mask.     even then     ...     rakan smirks.     there is no attempt to remove the blindfold,     he does not stand up.     for now,     he shall play the part of an obedient nightingale    &    allow his song to do the talking.

              ❛     a blindfold   ?     ❜     intonation evinces his inquisitive tone,     as if judging this turn of events.     he isn't.     he likes it.     all it takes is a grin to know.     ❛     didn't think this was your style,     but i can't lie,     i'm digging it.     ❜     amused hum reverberates at his throat,     thinking it's time to be more bold.     verbally,     at least.     an offer,     if anything.     ❛     so,     tell me     ...     you gonna use my mouth now,     or what   ?     ❜