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“Loving, destructive and sad. Some hearts are created that way.”

— Juansen Dizon

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PRACTICE URGE SURFING

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Quel'thalas @ the human kingdom(s) full of knights.

"Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting f***** in it."

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If you want people to love you they have to be able to trust you

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violent impulses are actually very healthy for girls. we must nourish girls’ desire to kill and maim

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Momentum

One would think that this might be easier to explain to others.

It's a hunger. A need. A baying of the hounds at the door, as it rattles off its hinges – it's a blind, wild force of nature that's going to grip me by the throat and take whatever the fuck it wants, if I keep trying to drown it out.

It sits like a demon on your shoulder, whispering sibilant promises and cajoling... and threatening... and pressing down on you like an ogre...

And they call you cute.

You're not sure how you want her to scream – pain? pleasure? - but either way it's not something you should ever say out loud about a friend, so you don't.

The things you'd like to do to her brother, well. They see it writ on your face, and you know that it's just too early in the week to be feeling this kind of pressure. You just came back from 'taking the demon out for a walk,' and it shouldn't be scratching at the door so insistently again.

But circumstances agitated her. The Forsaken bitch – the glee as she'd spoken of the genocide of Elves... she'd made herself walk away, but Lily hadn't been right since then. She'd done the exact opposite of what every molecule of her being had said it wanted to do – and it had taken a lot out of her. It had taxed her will immensely, and now... well, could she be blamed for eyeing the handsome men of Silvermoon when they finally crawled out from under their rocks?

But throughout the playful manhandling of a friend, and the intensely close proximity of a prank – she kept wondering to herself, if they could even begin to imagine the things just behind her eyes. The horrors. The blackness of her want.

“You're so beautiful!”

That was the intent, when the fucking thing had molded her. When he'd experimented on her, there'd been a point. How else does the beautiful flower draw in the prey it must consume? Beauty. That had been the point. And beauty is deadly, in the eye of a demon.

She wanted to keep them safe, these new friends - but the constant cajoling, alongside that greedy thing always eager and ready within her... it made her wonder if she really wasn't in her head too much.

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Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by YkWinter

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I myself keep my emptiness inside of me, and this certainty that I am alone, that nothing can satisty me, that my happiness will have to be willed so strongly, so severely that it will be more of a fatigue than a peace.

Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student: Vol.I: 1926-27

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I am nothing. I'm like someone who's been thrown into the ocean at night, floating all alone. I reach out, but no one is there. I call out, but no one answers. I have no connection to anything.

Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

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hi do you wanna come over and make me bleed

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*Music on!

Another attempt to mash music and mogs! This time I recorded the audio using Audacity (free), and imported it into Clipchamp (also free), since Clipchamp... struggles with getting good quality audio.

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*Sound on!

So, while working on figuring out how to use Narcissus' photo mode in WoW today, I started thinking about how I used Microsoft Clipchamp to make a musical 'screenshot' for a character of mine in FFXIV, and... had an idea strike me for spicing up how to show off mogs from WoW! And why not start with one I never actually wear, because it leans so hard into the demonic aspect of Lily... and there's never really an opportunity to wear this! (Plus, I had the perfect accompaniment for it in mind!)

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"Still, it's always nice to be around somebody who thinks I'm wonderful. It confirms my low opinion of people." - Dexter Morgan, Dearly Devoted Dexter

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On High

DWC February 2025 Day 4: Salty/Euphoria OC: Lilliana Whitedawn, Sin'dorei "Felblood" @daily-writing-challenge

There was a certain joy to being high in the sky, soaring over Azeroth with one's best friend - a freedom... an unbridled joy to feeling like there's simply... nothing else. Just the clouds, and sky that stretch on and on into an unknowable horizon - and it's all just for you.

It had been some time since she and Erythraestrasz had taken the time to simply take to the skies like they had... before. Before her fall. Before her daughter. Before it all got so complicated.

Back when it seemed so much simpler, but it was all too much for me, anyways.

She'd known the euphoric high of sitting astride a dragon, and taking to the skies for years and years, before the Dragon Isles saw mortals working closer with dragons than almost any time before... but there was a certain little warmth in her chest, as she thought of others experiencing... not just the joy of flight, and the freedom of it all... but the friendship of a dragon. Well and truly knowing these 'people' who love and live just like anyone else... whether or not they have four legs, and a pair of wings.

Eryth was family, at this point. When she'd been too far gone, struggling with her demonic transition in the early years... he'd practically raised Caitiri. He was the closest thing to a father her daughter had ever known, and... Lily was proud of that. Who else could better guide her daughter in how to be kind, patient, loving... in being forgiving, and compassionate? She couldn't have done better than he had, in truth - and at the time, all the dragons had known was that they would never see another egg hatch. Eryth was delighted to have a 'whelp' to tend to, and oversee during that time - in a way, it had even benefited him to have some place to let all that nurturing out. To distract himself from a future where dragons died, but none were ever born again.

The thought came upon her, and stung her eyes with tears - but that fear was gone, now. The dragons were healed... whole again. It meant Eryth was more often away - aiding in the restoration of the Dragon Isles, the acclimation of the Dracthyr, and mingling with his family in a way he hadn't been able to in... well, not for the entirety of Lily's lifespan, at least. She still remembered the Orcs enslaving the Red Flight, and burning Eversong, and how hard she'd fought beside them in Northrend on more than one occasion... no, the Red Flight, among the lot of them... had always had it rough.

Too much compassion, however - too much forgiveness - can kill. That would be the unfortunate lesson that she would have to impart to her daughter, in time.

But for now - for now there was the warm, smooth scales of a dragon, the heavy beat of his wings, and the rush of wind grabbing at her... as if to rip her from the sky she wasn't born to... and she decided that the worries and cares could be for later - when her feet were on the ground.

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DWC February 2025 Day 6: Annoy/Holiday OC: Lilliana Whitedawn, Sin'dorei "Felblood" @daily-writing-challenge

"Love is in the Air" - a holiday that had never meant much to her, other than to be a mild annoyance, with all the goblins hawking... really, who knew what, as aphrodisiacs. She wouldn't be surprised, really, if the chocolates they pushed were actually filled with machine oil, and Kaja Cola.

But no matter where you went in any city during the holiday's duration, you were bombarded by overpowering scents, merchants shoving chocolates and perfumes and sweets and clothing at you... and everything, everywhere... only came in shade of pink, or red.

This year, however - she found herself pursued. And perhaps... pursuing? She'd intended to continue, after nigh on a decade... avoiding intimacy. Relationships.

She'd made all the wrong choices, before. Let the wrong ones in, and drove away the ones she thought she might sully, or taint with her 'brokenness' - the ones she thought were too 'good' for the likes of her. No... she'd loved the ones who always hurt her, in the end.

And what assurance is there that she won't do the same again? After all, fate had now seen fit to send three different sets of Elven brothers of noble birth to court her. How this had happened, and kept happening... she had no idea - in her youth, it had been about Matthias and Darroc Dawnfire. Their families had sought an alliance in marriage, and Lily had always gotten on well with seemingly the only sane child of the family - the youngest brother.

The fallout of the brotherly anger in that case had haunted and harmed her for years and years after - Darroc's fury at the denial of her hand driving him to harry and harm her for years, in the Blood Knights. But then there had come Jericho - who, after years of friendship and flirting with the idea of romance... had a brother show up who hated him - but wanted her.

Caelan. She still wore the ring he gave her... just like she still kept that preserved frost lily that Jericho had gifted her. Pieces of them - the men she'd loved, yes... but kept at a distance. Never committing. Never letting anyone quite close enough to see the fracture lines. And in truth, it wasn't just a fear of letting them see that the woman they thought they knew was so much more... broken, than they thought. Sullied. Tormented.

But choosing also meant doing harm. It meant breaking her heart, and another's. It meant saying that she loved things about one person more than another, and... what a stupid thing to be so afraid of, perhaps? But the thought had gripped her in a stranglehold - you don't know what the future holds. You don't know what the right choice is, and what if you make the wrong one?

She'd always made the wrong ones, somehow, anyways. And at this point... well, maybe it would be different, because she was different, now. She knew the red flags to watch for - the behaviors that led to inevitable disaster... because they were all too similar to those of another she'd cared for, once.

"This will end in tears," she could all but hear Aelberyn whisper in her ear, over a decade later, as she watched the younger of the brothers storm off in the middle of the picnic that he had planned. And she hated it - there was nothing and no one more annoying than that particular priestess, really - especially in this this moment. But as she eyed the scar on her hand, sighing at the memory of the noble woman who put it there, she knew the intrusive thought that sounded so like the snark she once knew was right - she needed to say no, next time.

She already knew how this story ended.