#ofdiscord

[twiinmasks]

👤

send 👤 and i’ll make u a promo thing / accepting (mutuals only) 

bruh u sent one twice u ho

[strategion]

ofdiscord replied to your post: swain would preen someone in bird form tbh.

(´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ

Big Bird Preens Eldritch Horror, You Won’t Believe What Happens Next !

[icathiaism]

gives the prophet a big ol kissu

Mal’Zahar traced the concept’s jaw, fingers cupping her cheek. His lips pressed to hers in worship, whispering prays to her with their touch. The Void was born of pure chaos and unfettered creation, and so he served her aspect with each word, breath and action he made. ❛ It will always be a mystery to us how so many mortals deny you and hide behind their false order. ❜ 

[thegoldendemon-blog]

okay but actually ∅

HE’S NOT MODERATE. | SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING

To that, Jhin laughs.

“Oh, Vivian,” he muses. “Why would you ask for a monologue of mine when you could exact it from me with so much as a touch?”

After all, any thought of his is a thought of hers. Khada Jhin has long since surrendered his privacy in exchange for a dance with Chaos, one he knows he is unlikely to survive but still entertains the possibility of power and recognition unending. The Golden Demon, terror of Ionia. The Artisan Killer, terror of Valoran. If he has his way, the name Khada Jhin will be one plastered on every last heart he can reach.

Instead, he lavishes her blood with a kiss.

Even eldritch abominations have their fans.

[masteredshadows]

a moodboard of sorts, probably → for @ofdiscord

[guiltyblade-blog1]

she lay nearby, on her back, peering upside down at him. a clever smile upon her lips and a half lidded gaze. vivian's form could barely contain itself, excited, fidgeting with her own ringed fingers. " now i normally avoid demons, for my own reputation--- but you dear had such a familiar scent I just couldn't help myself! " she rolls over to lay on her stomach, propping her chin in the palm of her hand. " who are you? "

Fingers coiled, claws raked the blade's hilt that thirsted for more. Screams had dulled, the last warrior cut down before him as so many others before. But something else stirred, something dark and strangely something that resonated deep. More than enough to cause a burning gaze to fall upon the rather at ease form near him. 

A rough exhale had his gaze dance across her, finally the other's words echoed in the back of his mind. "

You..." A step threatened him to draw closer not out of a need to lash out but his own rampant curiosity. Hardly quelled, muscles twitched beneath static armor. Energy contained, or rather limited to such a form had been painfully obvious to those able to view it. 

"I am darkness...chaos, night bringer." sudden, he'd buried his blade deep within the ground. But his form had since vanished in favor of nearly straddling her yet she had room to turn once more. Heat came from his form in a flood as he scrutinized her. 

"But you, who are you?" Clawed digits echoed the same flame that ran deep within him. But only one hand buried into the ground near her head the other only hovering near her face.

[nevermove-a-blog]

@ofdiscord; ya. 

This was, perhaps, the closest thing Jericho would ever feel to love.

Vivian was always with him – when they were in meetings, when they were in separate rooms, and even in his dreams (they were deliciously vile, with Demacian royalty maimed and dying at his feet and carrion in his beak, Vivian draped across his shoulders and whispering how this was only but a taste). She permeated into every aspect of Jericho’s life, and he found he did not mind.

Vivian was sure to introduce herself to Jericho’s consul (a polite term for his lackeys; it was laughable to imagine Jericho taking advice from anyone). She made a grand show of it, appearing from thin air and flourishing her blood arm. She relished the feeling of being in power of something – of someone. Jericho could relate. At the end of it, she took it upon herself not to seat at the open chair that Jericho had requested beforehand, but settling in his lap, expression smug. A bleeding, pointed finger ran across the top of his head, and he allowed it.

Later, she complained about how dreadfully boring the meeting was.

“I made a pact with you to give you power, Jericho,” she murmured to him, drawing a knuckle along his cheek. She had draped herself across the strategy table, blatantly staining the maps with red. “You don’t need to bother with all … this. These strategies.” Vivian’s mouth screwed up just at uttering the word.

“You make it sound so droll,” said Jericho in reply, and she snorted.

“If you wanted, we could go take Demacia right now – just the two of us.” She leaned in a little, a hairsbreadth away from him. Her legs were kicked up behind her, and she was leaning on her elbows. Her hair fluttered upwards by a nonexistent breeze like water. Blood flowed upwards in small drops from her arm. “Isn’t that what you want, Jericho?”

Admittedly, Jericho was tempted – sorely so. The idea of standing over Jarvan’s corpse with Vivian by his side was like a dream come true.

But, no – that wasn’t what he wanted. Jarvan was only a necessary obstacle to be removed. The pleasure from said removal was purely incidental. What Jericho wanted was control. What he wanted was absolute, inarguable, undeniable authority over everyone and everything. What he wanted was the ability to make hordes of small minded gnats to do whatever he wished. What he wanted was the satisfaction of knowing he was in command by his own efforts. Hs rise to power would be historic – no, legendary! And it would be of his own will.

Well, his will and a certain personification of Chaos.

Jericho took a bony finger and takes a small bunch of hair between it and his thumb. It was smooth, like silk. Jericho didn’t know what else he expected. He ran his thumb along it and pressed his knuckles just below Vivian’s eye.

“Patience will reward you, Vivian,” Jericho replied. “Don’t trouble yourself; the bloodbath will be satisfactory.”

She looked unconvinced. Her eyes narrowed and her delicate mouth dropped. She was beautiful, certainly, but Jericho knew what was underneath such an exterior. It wasn’t this perfected shell she had created that Jericho was intoxicated by, but with the crazed, uncontrolled, disturbing and terrifying one. What a pair they would be together on the battlefield! He wondered what it was like to hold such a power – to create anything your imagination allowed. Jericho was envious – he admitted it readily to Vivian. But how he craved her.

He would spend his free time reading books – primarily history, consisting of battle strategies and some of the greatest conquests in history. Of course, there had been rulers before Jericho’s time – ones with similar ambitions as he. But they had never come close, never had the resources to take control of even half of Valoran before their empire crumbled.

“This is why we have to be careful, Vivian,” Jericho murmured to her as they lied across a chaise together. He was leaning back on it, book in one hand and another running through her hair. She was leaning on him, resting her head on his chest. She was feigning sleep, he knew; he was fairly certain she did not need sleep.

At his words, she looked up and quickly read over the content in the book before making a disgruntled noise.

“These people didn’t have me,” she said to him, placing her head back on his chest and closing her eyes one again. He did not imagine he was very comfortable; he was almost all bone with skin to fill in the empty spaces. Then again, Vivian weighed easily two to three times her right for her size, so she had no right to complain.

“Indeed,” Jericho allowed her, “and neither did they have a plan.”

Vivian made another noise – impatience, he knew. Talk of what happened after he conquered the world was of no interest to her. He had not forgotten; this was not the extent of their pact. But perhaps, in some way, he hoped she would remain at his side – not just because he wanted her power, but because he wanted someone to acknowledge and appreciate his achievement.

He wouldn’t confine her, of course. He would never kid himself into believing that after their contract he could keep her in the walls of something as small and simple to her as a castle. But he would give her free reign, even authority – and, perhaps, she would return to him some days to revel in what they had wrought together.

“You don’t have to waste time on things like this, Jericho,” Vivian mumbled with a sigh. She had heard everything that had gone through his head. He made no effort to hide it. There wasn’t a point. She would know, regardless. “I’ve told you: we can get started whenever you want. Nothing is too large for me – for us.”

“What’s the point of conquering if there is no rule after?” Jericho frowned, disgruntled. “There is an art to authority, Vivian.”

“You have power,” she said. “What else do you need? Respect?” She snorted. “I did not take you for such a man, Jericho.”

“Don’t be obscene.” His fingers paused in her hair and his eyes dropped from the book to the top of her head. “I need security. I need fear. I need terror. I need my authority to be so thorough, so complete, so absolute, that everyone has no doubt in their mind that I hear every word they utter, see every twitch, smell any trace of resistance they have. Even when I am not there, they must have the illusion that I am. When others read such books like the one I have now, I want them to remember who I am – unlike these passing conquerors and gladiators with meteoric rises and disgraceful falls. I want to be part of history, Vivian. No, legend.”

Vivan only shook her head. “My, my, Jericho – how greedy you are.”

He went back to stroking her head and reading. “As I should be, else you’d not have bothered to come to me.”

“Hm,” she said, but Jericho knew there was the faintest of smiles on her face.

Once or twice, when he woke from a particularly vivid dream, he came face to face with her smug expression. She was hovering above him, upside down, her hair drifting into his mouth and a mischievous look in her eye. “Good morning,” she said.  

“Indeed,” Jericho replied, face expressionless.

“An entertaining dream you’ve been having.”

“An entertaining dream you’ve inspired.”

She only grinned. It stretched her face in a strange way, which was not to say that it was unattractive, but it was foreign and unnatural. To a weaker man, perhaps, he might think himself on the brink of death.  

“What is the agenda for today, Jericho?” Vivian sighed dramatically, taking a place next to Jericho on the bed, resting on her side and propping her head on her hand. “More meetings? A hearing or two? Perhaps some strategy and history lessons if I’m so lucky?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice monotonous, and her expression immediately dropped.

“You’re no fun, Jericho,” she turned up her nose. It exposed her neck, which was the one aspect of this form Jericho particularly relished. It was slim and elegantly curved. He wondered what it would look like bruised.

“Go entertain yourself with Draven if you’re so bored,” he told her as he rose. She laughed a little while he threw off the sheets.

“Is this envy, Jericho?” she crowed as he hobbled to the bathroom, back humped, lame leg stiff and uncooperative. When he opened the door, he found her sitting atop the porcelain counter with a gleeful look.

“Is it so inappropriate to be envious,” Jericho’s eyes narrowed, “when you are rightfully mine?”

Vivian’s expression immediately darkened. “I am not yours, Jericho. I am not anyone’s.”

“You are what I say,” he sneered, dark nails tapping on the tile.

She rushed in, face vile and enraged, a bloody hand seizing his collar and yanking hi forward. She was stronger than him – much stronger. If not for the pact, she could kill him without blinking. Still, his eyes showed no fear, which perhaps was why her expression only soured.

“Understand, Jericho – we are only a we until the pact is fulfilled, and until then it is well and truly a we. I am not your weapon or your accessory or an ornament for you to flaunt. Your conquest and future successes may as well be mine.”

Unimpressed, Jericho placed a hand on her wrist and sneered. “I will think of you and my work as I please – or will you interrupt this as you do my dreams?”

“You did not complain about the dreams before.”

“And neither did you raise concerns whenever I displayed you so proudly to my associates.”

Her jaw tightened, and she released him.

“Done already?” he couldn’t help challenging her, adjusting his shirt. “How disappointing.”

Vivian hissed through her teeth. “You test me, Jericho.”

“And you me, Vivian.”

She snarled before disappearing without another word. Suddenly, the bathroom was cold and silent. Jericho eyed the pool of blood she had left behind to drip onto to the floor before clicking his tongue. Distasteful woman.

[cursedandcarried-blog]

ofdiscord replied to your photo: i wanted to do a more, i guess, stylistically...

mson

a good'n slimy son is he

[wasthevirtuoso-blog]

❝ it’s too late. ❞

He refused. 

‘no.’ a hoarse whisper escaped his lips, 

his anger flared-- Writhing, thrashing and demonic. and he refused. he refused to die.  (It would not end like this, he would not let this end like this.) 

Bitterness and vile hate had kept him alive now, the horribly empty husk of a human being that Khada Jhin had become. His life’s blood stained his pristine white cloak, much like petals. He was a bruised, withered and crushed flower. Ugly and hateful, underneath the cover of beauty.

desperation clung at his lungs, he’d been so close. he couldn’t die now. he refused to die now.

‘help me.’ the demon growled out, dark eyes filled with wrath and madness. ‘help me kill them all. ‘ 

[godpassed-blog]

’ You’re making this harder than it needs to be. ’

   ‘’And you’re really annoying so why don’t you go bother someone less important than me. It’s a really big selection so i’m sure you’ll find someone soon.’’

[shurimanheir-blog]

❛ I’m not going to kill you. ❜

his game / open

“Ha!” the emperor lets out in haughty amusement. Death is a concept far too mundane for the emperor. What did he have to fear, if he had already faced it and returned from its clutches? 

“Indeed, woman, for I have died and risen again, ascended! It would take more than you can muster  to fell the emperor of Shurima!” 

[twiinmasks]

☞ + urgot

☞ + character ? / open always tbh 

[ darth vader breathing ] 

full disclosure and no bs i actually have no idea what urgot’s background is and i don’t know any of his voice lines and i actually know nothing about him and i don’t like him enough to look it up so i couldn’t answer this seriously even if i wanted to

[prideofnoxus]

came for the kled, stayed for the kris

Well consider this; the kris stays for you.

[icathiaism]

💎

all the better to see you with , @ofdiscord

                 ( 8/10 )

❛ However, you do look better when not in this imitation human form. ❜

[thegoldendemon-blog]

❣

KISSING REPTILES. | ACCEPTING

18. a platonic kiss.

It was quick, derisive, and even something of an event-- not that it had happened, but that the passion had for once caked itself into a white ambivalence.

A second lingered and his lips were on her cheek. Blood rushed past his hair and thumbed through his scalp. Then they were gone and so was he, shrinking away with an upturned head.

Khada Jhin had kissed Chaos and his stomach plumbed neither air nor butterflies.

The seat underneath him groaned as he learned back with a bowl and chopsticks. Rice was as much a scarcity as indifference and he felt it right to celebrate the occasion by, nibbling on one grain and then the next.

How long had it been?

How long would it be?

He said nothing and continued to eat. It could have been slaked in spice and he wouldn’t mind it. Whisked in cinnamon, spice, fish-- none of those tastes would have pulled a rise in him. For then he felt a nebulous nothing and couldn’t decide whether it was something to keep or be concerned with.

He supposed he could thank her.

Then again, the bodies proved that he already had.

[furybred]

boops ya nose

no boop nose