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I want to start an RP blog for Mara Sov of Destiny 2.

Obviously I want to continue this blog. I live laugh love keffu.

But there are so many storylines I want to explore

I can't even remember where to start with new blogs. It's been so long.

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Lmao I forgot about this promo

                               WELCOME TO MY BARBECUE

We have dry rub :)

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Me: *accidentally isn't here for months*

Tumblr: *1000 notifications at once from someone lurking my shit*

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Finals will be done after the 12th and then I'll have some breathing room and I'm hoping to get on and catch up

I currently only have 3 ongoing active threads I think and they are with

@onewingedxngel (my turn)

@ivory-paragon (your turn)

@badassbarmaid (my turn I think???)

So if anyone wants to pester Kef, send stuff in or hit me up :)

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I just wanna say that I'm musing Mara Sov from Destiny 2 so fucking hard and I may need to make a second blog

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Happy birthday! And I hope you have a great day 😉🎈🎂 (ooc)

Thank you so much 💓

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The Saints Row reboot is not without flaws but the customization is not one of them

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My makeup game is 🔥 these days

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up late thinking about the fact that craig ferguson hosted a late night show where his sidekick was a robot skeleton named geoff built by grant imahara, and he and the robot were in a band called ass möde, and he never asked his guests any actual scripted questions, and intermittently at random he’d ring a doorbell and scream who’s that at the door and everyone would have to drop everything to dance while two men in a horse costume frolicked through the set, and he ended interviews by asking guests if they wanted to try playing the harmonica or just sit in awkward silence for a minute, and if they could actually play he’d ceremoniously present them with a golden harmonica, and one time he won a peabody for his interview with desmond tutu, and he just did that for like nine very weird years

i just remembered that geoff had a feud with kristin bell, that also happened

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🔮

"I could ask you a question but I know you'll insert your own anyway."

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"I like how this went from srs rp to us discussing the consequences of Sephiroth teaching Kefka to use tiktok" - Me at @onewingedxngel

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The mage-God stares at his stark-white reflection in the mirror, eyebrows furrowing, the slightest of pouts tugging at his lips. There were no paints in this place. He felt...naked. Sighing, he looked through the cabinet, at least able to find something he identified as a moisturizer, and slowly began massaging it into his skin. Once that was accomplished, he took the comb he was able to locate and began the arduous process of getting the knots out of his thick hair and loosely tie it back, thanking whatever divine forces were at play in this world for the bobby pins he could find. He knew Rufus was waiting for him but he also knew that Rufus would have to keep waiting unless he at last decided to give Kefka even the tiniest taste of his own magic to make this process flow better.

Kefka went to his closet and tsked, looking at the limited options he was presented with while they awaited the custom wardrobe Rufus had ordered. He hadn't been one to wear something as formal as a suit even in his mortal years. Sighing, he pulled the trousers and the dress shirt on at the very least. They were loose on him, which wasn't terribly surprising given his petite frame. He supposed it didn't matter all that much anyway. The custom clothes would fit much better.

The blond pulls a belt around his waist and rolls the sleeves of the shirt up so he doesn't feel like he's swimming in these clothes. Then he approaches his apparent handler.

"Yes. I'd like to take in all the knowledge from your archives now," he stated. Somehow, even powerless and in an unfamiliar world and ill-fitting clothes, the God seemed to radiate power from his gaze.

Rufus allowing Kefka to absorb all the literary knowledge he had of course meant that the next favor was the humans' to take...

Rufus was an inquisitive person. While his father was gung-ho on speaking whatever thought pressed into his mind, it was just the opposite with his son. “Hm…,” the answer was enough for him to chew on while the mage’s voice faded within the back areas of the living quarters. He was quite sure his father would have left Kefka to rot with the professor. What good would talk do if he could just siphon all the vital information via DNA tappings and experiments? Though Rufus supposed this was his own way of experimenting—basing his calculations on his provided answers. Wasn’t that part of the scientific process?

“Downfall,” he parroted the word—one that ShinRa barely touched upon. They held the sources to the promised land, created their own religion based on it, and had the population of Midgar and most of the world following their agenda.

“Well then, I suppose if we are destined to make our own graves in the end, we might as well have a bit of fun with the one foot hovering over it.” After all, life was a stage, and they were all the players.

“Ready for your day of learning?” He spoke while making his way to the sink and depositing his cup.

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Hot take:

Our Flag Means Death has weak writing and people only like it bc gay pirates

I like the characters but goddam is this show boring

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Let's talk about how the otherkin community co-opted dissociative identity disorder and make tiktoks about having it for clout, totally disenfranchising people with a serious mental health condition because they need to feel fucking special.

I've seen actual dissociative identity disorder. You cannot diagnose yourself with this condition. Anyone who takes part in this nonsense is disgusting.

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He watches her expression as she speaks to him, frowning just slightly. It always seemed as though there was something more she wanted to say but something seemed to hold her back.

The general swallowed dryly.

"Maybe one day we can leave this place," he said. "I just don't know when that one day is."

Why did he let her make him care so much? Sometimes he mentally cursed himself for allowing her to get so close to him but he reminded himself how good it felt to have these moments with Tifa as he slid an arm around the small of her waist and brought her into a kiss.

Nothing inside the Empire ever felt this good. What if he could feel this good forever? Kefka spoke once he broke the kiss.

"I will figure it out."

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“Help me?” he echoes. All she ever wanted to do was help him. He wished sometimes that she would stop wanting to help him. He already knew she was going to get herself hurt continuing to try to help. When she reaches for his hand, he allows her to take it and lets her play with his fingers while he tries to think of an appropriate response.

“You can’t possibly help me. The best thing you can do is help me help you by acting like nothing’s changed. Don’t draw attention to this place. Don’t try to solve any mysteries. Just continue to provide me solace.”

She was quiet at first as he spoke, her eyes focused on his fingers. Of course he would deny her help – he was a soldier, a silly man who felt like this was the best means. But Tifa was a fighter. The blueprints and coffee-stained pages of notes beneath the bar were proof of her prowess. Her dedication.

The Empire was going to pay.

“You know I can’t simply watch you fall into whatever madness they’re pumping into you,” she said softly, her voice calm but resolute. Crimson hues rose to his face and she narrowed her brows in concern. “You mean too much for that. I won’t be rash, and I’ll keep this place as it is…”

…but I’m fighting. For us. For you.

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A twisted smirk appears on Kefka's face before both hands, positively dripping in divine power, grab Sephiroth on either side of his face. The mage God doesn't let go this time. It's more than just a teasing taste of power he provides. He gazes directly into the silverettes eyes as he fills the other with enough power to last him for some time.

"No no no, my precious little mortal." His voice was barely above a whisper but it infected Sephiroths ears as though the God had found a way straight into his mind.

"I don't plan to toy with you. I know exactly what you want and why but you can't have more than a little at a time unless you're good." Finally, he lets go and pushes back. Sephiroth would have enough power to last him some time but Kefka knew it would never be enough.

"Go slaughter your enemies, swordsman. Rain hell upon them all."

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Kefka did not look away. In fact, he stared unflinchingly, unblinkingly back. The madness in his mismatched gaze could become so overwhelmingly intensely loud at times that it would practically threaten to drown the unprepared. But Sephiroth seemed strangely at home in such a cacophony and Kefka was unbothered by the searing intensity and audacity the SOLDIER brought with him. 

This was undoubtedly a match made in Hell. 

Slowly, red painted lips spread into a wide, manic smile, sharp teeth exposing themselves along with it. One finger lightly tapped the other’s chest again, as though teasing his response that he’d simply “wait for it” by sending another wave of Divine power coursing through him. Another giggle escapes him and his head tilts from one side to another, still unblinking, still unwavering.

“I shall enjoy watching your patience wane then.”

Reptilian eyes flitted down to the clown’s finger. Sephiroth seemed eerily still, focusing upon self-control and fighting the urge to shudder at the sudden, unexpected wave of power that flowed through him like a rush of invigorating energy. He took a moment to ponder upon it; for it felt no less than unnatural for such might to be given to him, rather than for it to be inherent to him– and only him.

He let out an arrogant chuckle. One that dared the clown to try that again, to push him and see how capable he was of enduring such foolish games. Sephiroth himself was rather familiar with such mind-games, t’would not be so easy to fell his hardened mind.

“Do you believe you shall achieve something by toying with me?” he sneered. “Tread carefully, clown. I can bide my time for as long as I require it.”

Yet, deep down… he could not deny how much he craved for more.