Unprompted.     /     always Accepting   !!

🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆 :P

how do u feel abt my rakan?

UMM RIGHT BACK AT U THO MALICE??? THANK U IM 🥺🥺🥺

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@stonethrown​ said :   goddamn dude just, it's been a long while since we were meming things up in TNB but I was just reading your threads on your blog for the past 10 minutes and god just, I love you and your writing like WOW i can't believe i'm actually friends with someone who writes and me reading it instantaneously cures my face acne and brings us to world peace but real talk your writing has shot through the roof and I know this is like super homo of me but keep on writing pls bc I wanna read more ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

UM AWAN WHAT IS THIS DFLJHDFHJDF YOU'RE SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH??? i can't believe we went from tiger & bunny with kotetsu and prof. willow all the way here. listen though- really, thank you for your compliments!! i really want to be able to convey my feelings n rakan's feelings as best as i possibly can in my writing, since i feel like he's a character whose primarily based in his emotions ( and honestly every character i write has been like that but LKFDJHLDFHSFJ ), and delving into how complicated emotions can be and what he feels can just. like. u know. contradict w/ the way he acts n shit sometimes u gotta do what u can to survive. BUT REGARDLESS I'M RAMBLING THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS i love u sm all the homo babe! <3

sylas.     ///     fraying.

          𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄,   𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑,   𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋,   𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 …     the wolf’s teeth snap around the wings of a bird.   it chews through feather and flesh and sinew and bone,   the crunch so loud;   but the screech,   the lark - song of distress,   drowns out all growls of hunger and whistling of weeping willows.   the wolf leaves the bird with its broken wing alive,   for someone else to eat,   for wolves do not hunt birds for feed,   so all that is left is for sport.

“      tell me about these people of yours.     ”

demacia does not hold many vastaya within their ranks,   their innate connection to magic making them much too close to the very thing the land detests the most,   and thus books of knowledge or gossip of old holds little more power than a candle to the fire sylas desires to start.

he folds a hand beneath chin,   resting elbow on knee.   golden chains are collected in lap,   heavy and familiar and a constant but awful reminder of the burdens placed upon a young boy’s shoulders.   sylas blinks slowly,   wolf - ish eyes squinting into a glare,   and despite the rays partially blinding him the evening sun is pleasantly warm against his skin.

summer in ionia is different than it is in demacia,   he muses,   for they need not worry about the cold draft brought in from the north.

“     the lhotlan vastaya.   i have heard of your wings and naught else.   tell me,   does everyone participate in the art of battle - dance,   or is it just the ostentatious few ?     ”

@feyquil          /          starter call.

              BUT OH,     MALEVOLENT WOLF WHOSE GAPING MAW bares blood of flightless bird,     what is folly if not the half - assed action   ?     intent not to feed,     intent not to sate infinitesimal hunger,     it was all for sport,     yet only a song of distress escaped nightingale     ——     what of its swan song   ?     on his stage     (   the stage you have so dared walk on   ),     such performance is averted from gaze of a predator.     fractured wing shall never be graced with flight's song anew,     fractured wing must accept fate's cruel truth    :    deprivation of freedom,     deprivation of flight   !!     oh,     dear wolf,     finish what is started,     for revenge's guiding light shall not mend aching wing,     albeit it shall grant tools to return favor    ;    wolf,     wolf,     a predator needs not its eyes to hunt.

              revolutionary who bears magic with natural ease intrigued him,     for tales have been whispered of     (   the unshackled wolf,     free from the cage that once barred gift of magic     —     like a bird that sought freedom    &    found its calling despite its clipped wings   ),     fear    &    admiration stirred for one that is at forefront of pivotal rebellion.     what is rakan to make of this   ?     verily,     some humans possessed natural affinity for magic,     thereby the silencing of this one's gift not too different from his own cause he so voraciously devoted himself to.

              a gray area is conjured at the conception of such a thought    :    whilst their relations clung onto appearance of being amicable,     was that truth itself   ?     is he to doubt one whose aspirations align with his own   ?     or shall admiration be exhibited through look    &    actions   ?     he doesn't know.

              perchance it's the cant of his head the denotes initial confusion,     only to be cleared up at mage's clarification of his query.     though the sun continues to set beyond horizon,     its dying rays paving way for glimmering moonlight's rise from opposite direction,     rakan's features brighten up with raised brows    &    momentary open - mouthed smile     (   soon closes into regular grin,     for those pearly whites may show some form of aggression     ———     something he wishes to avoid with his ' guest '   ),     they are enough to rival the radiant sun that elates ionia's people.     as rakan sits cross - legged,     elbows resting on either knee,     his posture shifts with intrigue,     leaning forward a bit,     maybe too eager to talk.

              what better is he at than talking,     after all   ?

              ❛     not everyone's as great at battle - dancing as i am,     that's one thing we've gotta get settled.     ❜     much too confident statement delivered without any thought on repercussions of his words.     just like him.     ❛     not everyone participates in it,     not as far as i'm aware.     ❜     source of knowledge for his own tribe   ?     probably not.     ❛     i like to think of it as an art.     the best art that comes from it are the bodacious ones   !     the ones who put heart    &    into their battle - dancing.     you need the flow of battle,     the flow of rhythm,    &    the HEART of magic.     ❜     at least,     that's what his style has embodied.

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@shnpo​ said :   {OPEN RP} hey rakan

ba ba ba bo bo go... be bo be ba bo... bebo? bogos binted? ba be bo ba...

oh yeah here’s the whole mun v. muse deal!

I SPENT MOST OF MY LIFE SHROUDED IN DARKNESS—

independent & private zelgius / the black knight from the fire emblem franchise. by equinox. template credit!

pit's king.     ///     halvett.

          “   PEOPLE   SAY   THEY   DON’T   LIKE   violence ,   ”   begins   Sett   as   though   speaking   to   the   elements ,   whichever   one   of   them   may   be   willing   to   listen   ———   and   rubs   his   knuckles   against   his   palm ,   “   but   they   all   watch .   ”   And   sure   enough   it   feels   like   someone   has   been   watching   him   drag   the   faces   of   some   smart - asses   (   should   he   even   bother   calling   them   muggers ?   Cowards ,   maybe ,   nothing   more   than   that   )   through   mud   of   the   cold   city   streets ,   all   stealthy   and   secretive   in   a   way   Sett   is   far   from   familiar   with .   He   stands   to   his   full   height   again ,   hands   clenched   into   fists .  

          “   SO   WHOEVER’S   OUT   HERE   GETTIN’   an   eyeful   ‘a   this   better   say   hello .   I   was   never   good   at   hide   ‘n   seek .   ”

⇢  SETT  &  RAKAN .    /    @feyquil​ .    /    STARTER   CALL . ( FT . A CANON QUOTE . )

              watch they do.     to marvel at the spectacle of violence is to become a part of the audience,     witnessing knuckles coming into contact with another's face,     knocking out a tooth or two,     it's unique to that type of performance.     it is a dance that requires brute strength,     burly individuals that could easily instill fear into a layperson.     who better at this fatal dance than the king of the pit,     the boss everyone has whispered on    &    on about for his strength   ?     (   what show he truly puts on.     a meat head to the very end of coincidental confrontation.   )     sett's dance     ...     is it calculated,     or is it blind rage that overcomes his being   ?     curiosity may kill the cat,     but a bird's vantage comes from flight alone.

              ❛     not good at hide 'n seek   ?     ❜     finally,     he speaks,     blessing very atmosphere with his voice once more.     talking is his forte,     one of many gifts.     ❛     probably 'cause you're not supposed to punch those you find.     ❜     around the corner    &    he's in full view,     grin plastered on his lips.     mischievous.     not looking for trouble,     but to thank for the show.     or is silent appreciation far superior   ?     ❛     you did a number on those guys,     though.     not bad   !     i'm impressed.     ❜     despite his praise,     distance is maintained.     albeit rakan holds confidence for his own escape tactics,     he opts to be careful around the boss.     /     to become his enemy is to take part of the play,     to be on his stage.     this deadly dance is not for him.     not yet.

if you think i don’t go through the efforts for friends. @feyquil had me get into a custom league match with him on the enemy team as rakan and me as sett so he could capture a gif of sett slamming rakan into the ground.

we were in there for nearly 35 minutes to get the shot right

i liked for this.     /     always accepting   !!

@vengearrow​ said :   "Rakan... hold still for a second." Varus reaches for the back of his scarf, lifting the amulet out from underneath, and places it around Rakan's neck. The red jewel shimmers brilliantly in the sun on his chest, and Varus hums in approval. "As I thought... it looks good on you. Keep it."

              this warmth shall not go unnoticed.     to avert his gaze from it would be a betrayal of the heart's desires,     to silence an enlightened song of passion a deadly move that must not be executed     ———     pessimistic perceptions may insist on silencing it,     all in attempt to facilitate darkness's entrance to his heart,     its only motivation to deter rakan from chosen path     //     to stray from what heart deems right is to betray his beliefs,     to forsake what his heart beats for   !!     despite how convoluted the matters in his heart are,     to reject them is to reject himself.     growing sense of camaraderie between them nurtured through meticulous hands that cared for blooming flower,     growing,     living at base of his heart.     travel has only strengthened its resolve,     invoked muse to experience breath of life,     longed for after times of pure peril,     times where life itself had nearly been taken from rakan.     (   oh,     what's life without a little danger   ?   )

              beyond such delicate flora its seeds,     budding feeling of romance masked beneath guise of friendship,     very one he dared not break yet.     how peculiar such love came to be,     how unnaturally natural did it feel to fight at his side,     for their fates to be bounded to one another,     walking along same path,     shoulder to shoulder,     initially perceived impossibility becoming their reality.     through each conversation,     through each battle,     through each smile they offered one another at night's silence,     where naught but the stars are their witness     ...     through it all,     it became natural.     natural to be at his side,     where he belongs.     not for the warmth he provides     ——     said warmth a virtue,     albeit afterthought to the true prize    :    varus himself.     very man that gifts him amulet,     that accepts perceived reality of intertwined fates.     in this together 'till bitter end.

              ❛     thanks     ...     i think it looks good on me,     too   !!     ❜     he jests,     it's natural,     praise for himself,     bonafide chuckle emitting from his throat.     he hums,     observes the amulet for moment,     considering its color,     its significance,     how great it looked on varus,     how good it looks on him.     eventually,     he decides.     screw subtlety.     ❛     'course,     it looks just as nice on you.     then again     ...     there's never been a moment where you look bad at all.     you're pretty easy on the eyes.     ❜     see the grin forming on his lips   ?     see the rise of his brows,     the evident gaze that neared longing every passing second.     this road's destination     ...     shall it be cut short,     or shall it prove fruitful   ?     lady luck,     smile down on him.

Hi there! My name is Lisa and I may be making a mistake, but here we are anyways. Please like / reblog this post if you are interested in writing with Shen, the Eye of Twilight and leader of Ionia’s Order of the Kinkou. Thank you!