#♛⊱⦃ ⏤ {ic.} ⦄⊰♛

[venisontransmission]

@voxxcd from here

Alastor presses closer, arching to press his chest to Vox's. His dark claws settle on the media demon's shoulders. They wrap around his neck, attempting to sit up on Vox's thighs.

From his propped position, he can lean down to kiss the television demon. His tongue slithers past cyan teeth and presses against the strange walls of Vox's mouth. The deer demon hums, appearing quite pleased as he groans into the kiss.

[blindfoldcd]

@kitxkatrp (Kaeya) | continued from here!

From the moment he opens the window, she can smell the alcohol wafting off of him and, though rethinking her visit, she did come all this way and scale the building so... it doesn't hurt to ask. "Insomnia, mostly. As well as the lack of friends here, other than you."

She folds her arms on the sill, using it for leverage to hold herself up there more firmly than simply gripping the frame. Brilliant blue eyes shift to the side, a little sheepish for once though she tries to appear indifferent. "I was going to ask if you wanted to take a walk, but I can tell that might not be the best idea."

[shouyuus]

─── T R U E & S T O R Y

you meet in a coffee shop, in a bookstore, across opposite platforms of a passing train, in the windows of two cars going different directions. you meet in paris, in tokyo, in new york city, at the end of the world. pay attention to the story -- this is where we begin. a tale of lovers, of migration, from body to body, soul to soul, this documentation in human form, these stories in our skin. this -- the anatomy of you and me -- the anatomy of being.

─── THE TRUTH

welcome to my first stab at selfships! this is where i'll keep track of them, and the tags that'll mark them in my blog. below, you'll find a brief "story" with each ship, and the tag that goes along with it. it's all for fun and games, so please don't take it too seriously! i know i'm not! (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

─── THE STORIES

♛ you should see me in a crown ━ tobio

"we've... met before, haven't we?" "haven't we?" "maybe..." "but it feels like i've known you for a million years, my whole life." "maybe in the last one, we were together too." "yeah? well, i wouldn't be surprised." // chance meetings, love at first (or maybe second) sight, awkward first date(s), dancing in the dark, transatlantic flights, midnight airport pickups, falling asleep to your breaths on the phone.

ﾒ a song of storms and swords ━ zoro

story in progress...

❅ an ode to ice and fire ━ shouto

story in progress...

☕︎ teahouse romance ━ suo

story in progress...

[heavens-sin]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐨𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨 Date Fee: $5524 Customer Comments: "I want to do...more with Doflamingo... (Male in 30s)"

of course - its only natural

[silentaura]

−−−  ꧁  a fortunate gift for such unfortunate circumstances , zelda pours herself over the arcanus isle compendium , finger tracing annotations left in neat cursive script . no , no , this isn't it -- and the princess hastily turns the page . for as detailed as the compendium was , it lacked any specific notation of the nightmare moss she'd been hearing of .

click . frustrated , a sigh of frustration passes her lip as she quickly presses the cover closed and looks around , reassessing her whereabout . it was one thing to be thrust into the middle of chaos . it was a challenge entirely separate to be placed in the center of an entirely unfamiliar land . sure , she had hardly scraped the surface of her own land , but uprooting oneself entirely from the familiarity was . . .

admittedly thrilling , had it come with better timing . for even if she had always carried the unspoken desire to disappear , it was not to trade tragedies nor abandon her own ongoing . but she simple had to make do the best she could and put her faith forward .

which was much easier said than done .

" excuse me , " zelda approached the reference desk . empty . abandoned . when circumstances were most dire , people sought the comfort of their homes and families . of course there were no workers left .

tap tap tap . nail bounced against the wooden desk as if calculating her next move . she could just go and . . . try and scrape a bit of it off to look at it closer . asinine . she was no botanist , and if the information releasing had any bit of credibility it was not in her interest to get close to the nightmare moss . . .

however , " it's no use . we'll never get anywhere without some risk . "

and so zelda presses her compendium into her arms , making haste towards the closed botany hall of the arcanus university campus . without risk , there would yield no reward .

[bodiceburstingqueen]

@ask-deepdarksea @guitargentlysweeps @titanic-toa

♛ Greetings.

[fellmother]

Her children and grandchildren aside, if anyone 'boops' her, they are losing that finger. Either to her wyvern, or her axe. She will be generous enough to let them choose.

[theoperaregina]

@dehvours liked for a starter.

Despite being a victim of her role as the Hydro Archon, Furina made it her duty to right the wrongs it had brought. Childe's involvement had undoubtedly aided in their path to victory when the prophecy had come to full swing. Nevertheless, it did not go past the prima donna that he too was an innocent bystander. Along with the gifts, flowers, and offers to pay for his medical expenses after battling the All-Devouring Narwhal, she asked Childe to visit Fontaine whenever he fully recovered to soothe the situation and personally apologize.

"Childe, thank you so much for coming to Fontaine." Furina quickly stands from her seat at the Café Lutece to greet the Snezhnayan. Despite her nervousness apparent from the way her words wavered, she continues, "I am glad to see that you are well. Y-you must be hungry! Please sit and join me for some lunch."

[zoranzeal]

@herospledge said: ❝ i don’t know who you are, but i’m sorry you have to see me like this. ❞

"Nonsense!" Sidon set his spear against his back and tugged the strange and battered young man back to his feet with such enthusiastic vigor that he nearly lifted him into the air. "No mark of a warrior is truer than those he sustains in battle."

He kept his hand set firm against the man's shoulder, but the moment he was confident he would not collapse again, the verve of the moment took over; he leaned eagerly forward, eyes bright.

"And what a battle it was!"

"Rarely have I seen a Hylian shoulder so many strikes of lizalfos electricity with such unflinching fortitude! Surely I would have died without your noble aid!"

[venisontransmission]

@voxxcd

The day starts out as any other - a rather normal morning in Pentagram City. Alastor completes his morning broadcast, finally fully awake with three cups of coffee.

The hotel is abuzz with conversation as the deer demon makes his way back inside. Charlie has another one of her trust exercises. Something about a scavenger hunt, though she seems to be spending a lot of time reminding Niffty that dead roaches are not on her list. Meanwhile, poor Husker is forced to deal with Angel Dust, who is currently leaning over the bar counter, attempting to convince Husk that vodka is on his list.

As normal as a morning in Hell could be. Alastor enjoys himself watching them flounder about when he hears the clink of chains.

Ice settles in his veins as his head shoots up - there's nothing around his neck, but he did not imagine that sound. He never could - it's unmistakable. Lo and behold, that ice in his body is offset by the feeling of embers in his lungs. Reflexively, he wants to cough but also knows that he will draw potential eyes on him. Without a word, the radio demon steps into the shadows, away from prying eyes.

And something changes.

Because Alastor's signal is gone.

It's not noticeable unless one was in tune to the radiowaves - a missing blip on the radar. Alastor's constant presence has vanished without a single trace.

The hotel doesn't figure out something is wrong until day four. And it's three more weeks until the radiowaves are claimed once more. Alastor's signal had returned as quickly as it had disappeared.

He's exhausted, but being alone sounds terrible right now, so he takes his leave and teleports to Vox's apartment. He takes one step into the room and startles when a sudden shrieking alarm sounds, hair standing on end.

[blindfoldcd]

@flamesignite

Legend says she's still running circles around Central evading Mustang.

[regaleur]

// Tag list 2

[heavens-sin]

      lips   curled   into   a   predatory smile.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   as he slid over the dash to the reader a small rectangular sheet of paper reading : " HELLO, PEASANT. ♡ This coupon entitles you to 3 HOURS *no talking  OF  ♡  𝑴𝑬 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑶𝑼𝑻 ♡  or ♡  𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑶𝑭𝑭 *i dont discriminate   ♡  "

in tiny bold print on the bottom read:

VOID WHERE PROHIBITED. WHICH IS EVERYWHERE BUT MY BEDROOM. OFFER NOT VALID IN CERTAIN LOCATIONS BECAUSE IVE BEEN BANNED. WHEREEVER THAT IS. REDEEMABLE FOR CASH AMOUNT OF 69,069 BELI. BECAUSE IF YOU WANT TO CASH THIS IN. YOU SHOULD KNOWITS REALLY GOOD HEAD YOU'RE GIVING UP HERE. ALSO NO KNOWN JURISDICTION WILL CASH THIS COUPON.  OFFER DOES NOT EXPIRE BUT "NO TALKING" CLAUSE EXPIRES WITHIN ONE MONTH OF COUPON ISSUANCE.

he waits for you to turn your head to him as he makes a rather suggestive pose with his fingers and sticks his rather long & pierced tounge through the small space between his fingers as if to showcase.

[silentaura]

−−−  ꧁ it had begun with holding an empty canister open to the skies that cried their sweet silver music , praying for the goddess to spare her another go-around . being displaced had been difficult enough the first time around . thrice was no longer coincidence , but curse . now , days later , she tasted nothing but lead in her mouth . delirious , broken breaths beaten by the eternal twilight . . .

run . run , little bird , whose voice is so small without no one to hear it . mud caked to her boots , with each step zelda drudged up the memories of hyrule's endless night . she ran along raquiesper creek's , dodging trunks , she fled central hyrule's burning corpses rising from behind her .

their numbers were . . . increasing lately . the mosquitos . the bodies . the lizalfos . . . ?? ʞɔi|ɔ , ʞɔi|ɔ , ʞɔi|ɔ . y e s . . . the lizalfos which danced in malice's delight -- their speed unmatched . she ran from the lizalfos that wished to have her , who wished to devour her . for zelda on her own was worth no more than a meal , and yet feared being taken by their razor teeth .

and as arms pumped , willing zelda away . . . she dared to look back at her demise . not with courage or strength , but with the wisdom to fear . and fear , she should , for the lizalfos's tongue lashed out , tying to her ankle just like the red string of fate that the goddess put on her at birth : except that her better half wasn't there on the other end this time .

instead , the lizalfos's grip pulled taut enough to draw blood as she hit the ground . and as the monster dragged her along the muddied sticks and leaves , arm raised to shield herself from the sight of her own death . she's seen enough .

@liightaga | campaign : omerta nostra

[vengefulqueen]

[ bug jazz music stops . png ]

[fellmother]

❛ i know under all that rage is a beating heart. ❜

From the hero sentence starters || Accepting

     She would wager there is no more adequate a place than this.

     It is not the first occasion, where they would meet on the sands of Plegia. Not the first or last time weapons would cross, and neither emerge victorious. Yet it is here, in the middle of his own path of destruction, that Morgana deems a sufficient place of confrontation. Where all the world falls off at the sides in every direction within but a few arm’s lengths. Obscured by dust kicked up by their own forces and a haze born from a thick, suffocating smoke that seems now to accompany the Exalt whenever he should haunt the country. All washed in an orange hue, a rich a fertile land now appearing as little more than a place long abandoned by any gods or the people following them. The smell of ash and sweat and metal sticking to what little air remains. None exist in this moment, save for the two and sun— an ever-present and burning eye, watching with a kind of malevolence either ruler might believe to be aimed at the other. He, who wages against her kingdom a bloody and violent crusade in the name of saving the world from tragedy. She, who has met him at every turn with similar ferocity, fighting for the innocent and the right to live in peace.

     And he speaks of sympathy.

     Had Morgana no decorum, she would retch at the very idea. The Exalt, who sits on that beast, donned in armour and clutching in his hand a sword blessed from a pact with the divine and wielded by heroes long immortalised in legends. A legacy he now carries on with massacres of villages and reducing homes to ruins and ashes. Perhaps some handful of years ago, those words would have been uttered in a different context. Playful banter between a crown prince and princess, occupying themselves with games outside of discussions taking place within fortified walls. But he is not that blissfully unaware child, swinging about a stick in practice, and neither is she. Nor can they hide in the shadows of those before them for whom they now champion the sides of a conflict far beyond themselves.

     She is unmoving, atop that wyvern. Poised, weapon held above her head, pointing downward. One hand at the end of its handle, arm bent at the elbow, the other but a short length down from it. The curved edge of an axe aligned to where she might run him through, and where her husband had laughed and suggested that perhaps she ought not aim there in the first place— that miserable cavity devoid of everything but hubris. Like some statue depicting the manifestation of judgement and retribution in a comprehensible form more than an aggrieved sovereign.

          "Oh, spare me your falsities. You are a being of violence and mindless slaughter; not words,"

     Comes her reply, lifting over that discordant roar and the beating of wings, biting through the haze and dust. And she need not give an example. The scenes in all directions would speak for her claim, however obscured in the moment. However much he would choose to turn away from them.

          "If my heart yet still beats, it does for my people. It does so, for the lives you have destroyed. It beats with the very blood your hands are drenched in!"

     Thirteen. That was the queen's age when the first Ylissean invasion marched upon her home’s soil. Eleven years have since passed, three of which she had not been on the throne for. Barely a life to have lived, before being encompassed by war. A conflict that sees now farmers and untrained citizenry from his own land conscripted, fields left unattended and barren. Neither willing to give in. Families of either side, never to be whole again. Blood of her people, shed by his order and belief of conspiring to lead the world the ruin, guilty only of existing in the wrong place at the wrong time. So consumed by legends of a dragon who destroyed all in its path that perhaps he fails to realise that same fear and paranoia has now pushed them all to the very ends he and those who raised him saw in their shared nightmares. For within her has she just begun to nurture a child who, too, will be born into war, but so they might invoke that same god of end times and life after death to put an end to their suffering. To end this crusade.

     Until then, she would play her part. For now, while able, upon the frontlines only after scouts and spies could verify beyond all reasonable doubt his presence leading yet another attack. Later, a decoy veiled by the same dark magic his land persecuted, shaped by only the most accomplished of sorcerers so that no detail would be missed. Leaving him none the wiser, until it was already too late. They have already the hints of confirmation that have been waited on, some for a decade, some for two thousand years. But all a nation tired of a war against their existence, who would not dare let the only chance left for peace slip from their grasp.

     All she must do is ensure as little harm as possible befalls her— as had been promised. Sworn upon vows if not for her sake, then their unborn saviour, even if Validar would never let her wander out of his line of sight. And so, Morgana narrows her focus. Sun glaring, closer to the horizon, reddened wisps of light an ornament to the haze and her alike, setting pale hair and the edges of all six armoured eyes at her shoulders alight.

          "I will not rest until your body is hung on display before those innocent you wish dead. Should you call that rage, then perhaps even your sight has fallen to your beliefs. What else left have you now than a penchant for death?"