feyquil

Latest Posts by feyquil

i’ve been doing nothing but playing ffxiv and debating on writing my wol on tumblr........don’t look at me 👉👈

concept: emotional support vastaya bf who’s loud and obnoxious and cares about you a whole lot.

i didn’t get to properly participate in sinday so i just wanna say: rakan has no gag reflex and he’s proud of it :)

trickormemes​:

One Word Writing Prompts

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write either a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🌀 for a random number instead.

01. — first 02. — kiss 03. — final 04. — numb 05. — broken 06. — wings 07. — melody 08. — rules 09. — chocolate 10. — nostalgia 11. — heartbeat 12. — stranger 13. — confusion 14. — bitter 15. — afterlife 16. — daybreak 17. — audience 18. — endless 19. — fireworks 20. — wishing 21. — birthday 22. — tomorrow 23. — oppression 24. — agony 25. — return 26. — protection 27. — boxes 28. — hope 29. — preparation 30. — beautiful 31. — lies 32. — underneath 33. — hide 34. — diary 35. — unforeseen 36. — conditional 37. — gone 38. — clear 39. — heartache 40. — wired 41. — insanity 42. — foolish 43. — words 44. — study 45. — love 46. — skies 47. — stars 48. — lucky 49. — shake 50. — punctual

im gonna try smth…… ♥ this post so i can hop in ur IMs to try & discuss character dynamics between rakan and ur muse(s)!

im gonna try smth...... ♥ this post so i can hop in ur IMs to try & discuss character dynamics between rakan and ur muse(s)!

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@shnpo​ said :   ?

              ❛     katarina,     ❜     so does lhotlan speak without prior thought,     hesitation's curse lost on him    ;    no thoughts were needed to address her,     a deadly rose whose thorns could make him bleed if he got too close.     her knives sharp,     her words sharper,     not exactly lacking on veracity with her moves     ———     he's seen her rise multiple times against those that dared to challenge her,     the blood they shed a crown she wore proudly,     scarlet hue of her locks a warning to all that dare cross her.     once again,     the announcers speaks another     'ENEMY PENTAKILL!'     before he speaks again.     ❛     ping me one more time,    &    i will throw myself into the enemy team again.     get fucked.     ❜

@drakenskies / raihan is also sexy

*taps my mic* rakan is sexy thank u

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

please take care of yourselves everyone 💖

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...

hi

NEW RAKAN SKIN LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO

                     rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek;                                but never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat.

                          — green oak, written by zacharie. established october 2020.

non-rp blogs don’t reblog. promo credit.

league of legends oomfies which league champs have the fattest asses and which league champs have the flattest asses? discuss. 

really don’t have to say this, but don’t follow me if you’re racist, that includes making fun of other people’s accents! with love, a bilingual vnzlan! ^_^

VIOLENCE  IS  MY  BUSINESS    ————

           (  sett  of  RIOT’s  league  of  legends .  by  rye .  personals  don’t  reblog . )

————   AND  BUSINESS  IS  BOOMING .

HOW  DO  YOU  NEED  TO  BE  LOVED ?

———     Casually,     the same way you love to breathe.

You want someone who will see your favorite flower and will give it to you, without even thinking about it. You want someone who will remember all the little details about you, the things so seemingly unimportant but that matter more than you thought they did. You want someone who will still be there, thirty years down the line, holding your hand while the two of you do two separate things. You want the intimacy of being known by someone who makes you feel safe. You don't want expensive dinners or grand proposals. You want someone who will love you consistently.

tagged by : @halvett ( thank you!! ) tagging : @quartlet @vuikusen​ @etwia​ @vireum​ @windchaser​ @ravalja​ & @drakenskies​ ! anyone else who wants to do this say i tagged you :)c

varus.     ///     vengearrow.

So the Darkin have been lost to time, recorded in the annals of history as demons; debauched beasts that haunt the past, their presence in the present ever fading. The mortals say the Darkin are monstrous, when so many monsters and heroes, even wretched gods, are all cut from the same cloth. Oh, so many monsters lauded as great men. It makes Varus sneer with contempt, his eyes smoldering balefully. He has lived in the sore absence of such ignorance for so long, after all, festering with burning resentment in the repressive darkness of that damned cage. After all of his years in damnation, he has thought: it was a great mistake to seal him and his kin away instead of destroying them all, to think that they could bury their ghosts. 

“My name is Varus. I am the arrow of retribution, and I will pierce you for forgetting your kind’s sins.” He spares not an inkling of intrigue for Rakan’s charms; there is only that cold, familiar anger, and it sings to him with renewed vigor. His corrupted hand clenches around his crystalline bow, and vermillion flickers around its limbs, coursing like lightning around the center, until the shape of an arrow is formed and howling with energy. Varus raises the bow, aiming right for the heart. With this arrow, he would teach this carefree Vastayan terror and silence. “I gift you this pain to remember me by. Savor it.”

              TO LIVE IS TO SIN.     to live a life without sin is to not have live at all,     for sins come in variations,     one's sin could be simple lie to lovely maiden in attempt to charm    &    seduce her,     yet another's sin could be the blood on their hands,     reliving each grotesque,     vivid memory over    &    over,     praying for deliverance from this grief that burdens them.     ah,     the many faces he's seen,     albeit this one's unique     (   bonny,     even.     every part   ),     lusting for revenge.     how amusing the thought.     to fall for temptation of revenge to don bravado of a false justice for the darkin,     whatever that was.     how utterly wicked man can be,     how each is so interwoven with sin itself.     in his long years alive,     the cycle of sin shall endlessly repeat,    &    that only bestows more responsibility on others     —————     it is not his problem.     he is candidate free from responsibility's task,     one to laugh at free entertainment.     for once,     he is the audience.     this is no different.

              ❛     oh,     wow,     that's really cool.     the arrow looks pretty nice.     ❜     insouciant in his approach,     hand is placed atop own hip,     digits curling ever so slightly,     adopting collected posture with that sneer.     face him,     darkin,     watch as the corners of his lips curve upward,     high up,     how he truly does not show a smidgen of concern over this endeavor   !!     varus is a new source of entertainment,     the gift not pain,     but the forthcoming laughs he is to thoroughly enjoy from each missed arrow.     a dancer must be swift to survive in his craft.     ❛     i'm into pain,     don't get me wrong,     buuuut     ...     ❜     pleasant hum,     simply stepping to the side,     showing his defiance with ease.     ❛     i think i'll pass on the gift right now   !     but thanks for the offer,     varus.     rakan's still got to show off his dance moves to everyone in ionia,     you understand   ?     ❜

the end.     ///     quartlet.

LAUGHTER PEELS FROM THE VOID BELOW,   the sound curdles and quivers,  unfurling vast tapestries of discordant clangs and pinches of pink noise.  He laughs.  laughs in the face of hopelessness,   laughs for all the putty flesh that makes him,  him.  may he lose himself in this sound,  in the lights ahead and all around.  trillions of them,  distant and dead from this vantage point.  they breathe their last sigh before bowing unto the encroaching Darkness,  the era of black holes and pristine emptiness unwound and unbound,  the era of rogue planets spinning into ad infinitum until their iron cores consume them from the inside out.  how they scream !  how they dream !  how they die  !  HE LAUGHS.  He mourns.  He weeps for no others may dare try,  no tears can be wetted upon a vast cheek. 

❛  NO,  you did not,  DiD yOu ? ❜  those last words are snatched by a static pulse,  a static hum.  it skips and fragments.  dislodged from all meaning yet perfectly riddling itself inside cosmic bones and welts of nebulae.   at this,  the God Without a Throne bends,  His unforeseeable eye narrows while laughter dies at the cavern of His might throat.  when it ends,  so too does a dead star’s drawn out agony before He peels it apart,  carves it up like satin,  splays it across the sky before it bubbles and foams into lesser atoms.  drawing lines with the sickled tips of claws,  almost lazily,  thoughtlessly.  

how fortunate this one is,  to be a creature of somewhat significance,  his guts not entirely composed of organic matter,  for deep down there were flecks of stardust.   in fact,  He could gaze into the depths of his soul.  find every knick and knot.  pull back and laugh again at the simplicity.  He does not such thing,  instead,  He merely stares and stares and stares.  unblinking.  unflinching.  wild choruses reverberate across a thousand lightyears,  their instant breaks into eternity as their throats are ripped from their bodies in a ceremony of entropy.  stone cold moons orbit in the distance,  suns follow behind,  then all at once they are swallowed whole.  ❛  but you did it for her  … ❜  spoke He,  ❛  did you not ?  you took all the darkness that lay dormant inside you both,  you consumed it WhOlE in hopes to bring about salvation.  ❜

another cackle wretches from the beyond.  the voice was high pitched,  clammy,  scratching.  then another one bows into boils of laughter,  then another after that,  until there is another wicked choir set on mocking the little soul before them.  He does nothing.  He does not laugh.  what liquid matter swirled inside that eye turns its attention to the side,  and before long,  the laughter stops.  the supermassive black hole gurgling at his side also gazes beyond,  far beyond,  unto everything and nothing.  it hungers and so does He. a hushed,  ancient purr fills rakan’s weary ears this time.  were he anyone else,  the sound alone would have carved his mind into half.  ❛  pitiful little guardian,  i should destroy you here and now for your failure,  yet  …  i am a BeNeVoLeNt god.  i will offer you a chance. ❜ 

              O,     STARS ABOVE   !!     how your gleaming presence was filled with lies upon lies,     how each twinkle was nary a sign of hope,     each was hushed deceit to manipulate star guardian from young.     //     ah,     how destiny once held benign promise of freedom,     to grant power of flight through mere action of accepting contract that has bounded him to this fate,     to see his name next to those who have fallen   !!!     his dreams,     that of jubilant singer whose comrades were the very stars themselves,     a star who shined like no other,     a guardian that offered benevolence    &    promises of a future hope to the stars that have so nurtured him from young age,     who have meticulously watched every move,     every quiet night he sung,     every passionate dance performed     ———     the stars were no audience,     they were initial saviors that furthered his passion     //     bah,     but what is passion for one who's been consumed by darkness of the galaxy,     who,     in reality,     resigned freedom to fall for a light that cares not for those it deems worthy guardians.

              each vocable leaving this malevolent god did not sound real.     reality had been distorted,     reality's once intact mirror had been shattered,     it is no longer chained by the rules of logic nor the everyday occurrences.     the sun was no longer the mighty light that graced them with vision,     that aided life's tasks with ease,     that dawned beyond the horizon with promises of a new day    &    the vibrant hope that lied within its grasp.     it was irresistible.     to reject the sun's light   ?     unimaginable.     even as a guardian,     fighting for the first light's honeyed promises of doing the right thing    &    saving the stars,     the sun had always been revered for its might.     to see what once shined so brilliantly be crushed with ease,     it defies all precedents of his perceived reality.     all is fair game.     he is nothing.     status of a guardian greatly diminished when curtain unveiled the horrors that lied beyond mundane tasks    :    what gods of total destruction the first light kept secret from them,     there is no strength in donning facade against them,     no hope,     no hope,     even if he wishes not to reveal the miseries deep within,     the grief dying starlight holds within him,     there is no use in hiding.

              ❛     i did it for her.     ❜    damned pity,     from a god who knows naught of his plight.     he is bold,     blasphemous,     furious.     grit teeth,     surely baring them as means to intimidate,     barely containing anger against supposed hand that is of a deceptive warmth,     one that may offer a promise,    a sliver of hope,     but he's had it with hope.     hope is not the foundation for brighter future,     it is the ruination   !!     it is what impedes growth,     it is what led him to his fate.     to reject this hand is to reject hope.     ❛     &    i'd do it again.     again    &    again.     ❜     daring,     daring,     limbs moving without thought put into each action, advancing towards the large form,     as if to face it.     face him.     face the end.     ❛     you think i'd take another chance   ?     the same way the first light offered a chance to be a star guardian   ?     the way i was offered a chance to be alive again,     only to lose a huge part of me   ?     i don't give a damn if you're a bene     ...     benevu- whatever, point is,     i'm done taking chances.     you offering one won't make a difference.     you destroy.     you don't create life.     ❜

boss.     ///     halvett.

          BANTER  SUCH  AS  THIS  IS  commonplace  in  the  life  of  a  pit  fighter ;  the  type  of  clothing  he  wears ,  whether  hewn  from  rough  fabric  or  fine  silk ,  means  nothing  but  the  end  of  one  battle  and  the  beginning  of  another .  (  Being  clad  in  luxury  matters  little  in  the  face  of  a  living ,  breathing  challenge   ————   and  agile ,  glib  and  witty  as  Rakan  may  be ,  Sett  will  respond  to  his  taunts  with  a  smile .  )  “  Do  I  now ?  ”  he  responds ,  matching  Rakan’s  sneer  with  a  fanged  one  of  his  own .  “  Think  my  track  record  says  enough  about  my  strength ,  don’t’cha  think ?  Oh ,  but  wait   ——   I  forget  you  don’t  keep  track  of  that  kinda  thing .  ”  He  shifts ,  takes  a  single  step  towards  Rakan  to  make  to  invade  his  personal  space ,  posture  the  perfect  mix  of  arrogant  and  playful .  Two  can  play  at  this  game ,  and  dancing  is  nothing  if  not  another  form  of  combat .  “  I  could  set  up  a  demonstration  in  the  ring  if  you’re  willin’  to  dance ,  pretty  boy .  ”

              HOW A SMILE CAN CONVEY     delicacy in its most rich forms,     how it is attributed to moments of peace    &    dulcet times where chaos had been so denied entrance to maintain this conjured serenity.     but what of those smiles whose purpose is to taunt,     whose sole purpose is to stir chaos,     to invoke a muse that shall witness acts of violence,     dutifully performed for naught but entertainment.     (   this was fun,     this was a show,     &    though two may stand center stage,     rakan is beauty's gift upon the world.     sett is yet another face in rakan's audience.   )

              ❛     do you know who you're talking to   ?     ❜     not once does he falter in the face of danger,     even as he comes closer,     there is no reason to lose upright posture    ;    no,     rakan challenges him,     he is one to always smirk    &    laugh in the face of adversity   !!     laugh,     laugh he does,     not hearty,     as it's a mere chuckle.     the boss of the pits must know the truth    :    he does not fear him,     especially when one wishes to duel him in his own craft.     (   that     ...     is what he meant,     right   ?   )     ❛     rakan,     charmer,     best dancer in all of ionia.     seriously,     challenging me to a dance,     you sure about that   ?     i thought fighting was more your style,     but who am i to deny anyone a dance   !?     ❜     hyped up,     step forward,     preparing himself for supposed dance battle.     he was here to fight,     but this works,     too   !

yasuo.     ///     flowihnd.

          OH ,  HOW  THE  WANDERER’S  DAYS  have  changed  in  the  melody  that  threads  them  together ,  and  how  different  the  rhythm  his  feet  walk  to  has  become .  Replacing  solitude’s  endless  vigil  is  the  equally  endless  energy  of  the  Vastaya ,  leaves  intermittently  leaving  the  comfort  of  the  tree  branches  in  favor  of  accompanying  the  wind  in  its  journey .  A  light  chuckle  breezes  through  Yasuo’s  parted  lips ,  joining  the  chilly  evening  air .  “  I  meant ——   Ah ,  never  mind .  ”  Explaining  it  would  rob  it  of  fun ;  plus ,  he’s  sure  Rakan  is  well  aware  of  the  discreet  punchline .  He  takes  a  small  drink  from  his  flask ,  ties  it  to  his  belt ,  and  (  unbeknownst  to  Rakan  )  imitates  the  Vastaya’s  posture ,  resting  the  back  of  his  head  against  joined  hands .  “  Sounds  like  the  biggest  danger  for  you  at  the  moment  was  climbing  the  tree  just  now !  ”

         YASUO  SETTLES  AGAINST  THE  TREE  trunk ,  eyes  closing  briefly  before  they  open  once  more .  The  pastels  in  the  sky  have  begun  to  dim ,  giving  way  to  the  dark  of  night  and  the  first  peeking  twinkles  of  the  stars .  “  But  don’t  you  worry ,  Rakan ,  I’m  not  going  to  miss  the  rise  of  the  moon …  ”  he  continues ,  voice  softening  as  the  day’s  exhaustion  creeps  up  his  throat .  “  I  never  do  at  this  point ,  really .  Am  I  saying  I  don’t  really  sleep ?  Weeeell …  ”  Another  chuckle ,  this  time  encouraged  by  the  influence  of  slight  intoxication .  “  Huh ,  maybe .  At  least  not  as  often  as  I  should .  ”

              ah,     a farewell to that old routine of solitude,     replaced by this new one.     /     in that distant past,     he was the sole entertainer on this set stage,     the eyes of the audience focused on naught but him,     the beauty    &    grace of every natural feature,     every natural move    &    its flow,     embedded with an exhibited passion from his heart     (   it is the melody that guides him   ).     in a forgotten yesterday,     he was chosen,     the only capable one of performing these beauteous dances that humans could not avert their gaze from.     it is only miracle,     fate,     luck that now,     each festival,     there comes a new expectation    :    certain dance partner,     a wanderer whose calling is the wind,     appears    &    leaves just as swift.     yasuo.     only one who's managed to keep up with his every move,     successfully impressing rakan,     as both engaged in an impassioned dance that sung for those higher beings,     very ones that granted them this gift.     this is an art that others would not dare partake in,     it's different having another to share this enthusiasm with.     this is the new norm he's come to wholeheartedly accept.

              ❛     hey,     that wasn't dangerous at all   !     ❜     an abrupt motion,     he rises     ———     like the moon,     its gleaming silver light    &    its comfort matches rakan's own demeanor,     despite his eccentricism.     never calm,      too much energy that can't be contained.     upon sitting up    &    turning his head     (   meager attempt to get a view of yasuo   ),     though making sure he does not fall as consequence for action.     perfect.     ❛     i think your lack of sleep's a little more dangerous,     yasuo.     falling asleep here     ...     you're not meant to literally fall   !     but,     guess if you do,     i could end up catching you.    ❜     surely a jest,     his own retort to yasuo's earlier one.     its only fair a jubilant canary,     granted gift of flight from this chilly wind,     is there to rescue what grants him newfound freedom.

just did a castrum run and randomly ran into @flowihnd​ there, what’re the odds!!!!

unexpected  things  about  today :  randomly  getting  put  in  the  same  FF/XIV  party  as  @feyquil .

goggles.     ///     yi-dashi.

Dance was notunknown to Yi, which was perhaps why he’d been drawn to the performance in the first place.Plenty of his people had been dancers, and in Rakan he found some form of nostalgia. When the people of Wuju could not apply their sword-crafts to battle or contests, their grace became art. To the beat of drums, a curated form of swordplay hadcome alive in performance. Back then, Yihad ignored any mentors of the arts, preferring swords for their edges ratherthan aesthetics. There were many more important things to be done, he told them all. Whywould he need to remember every single Wuju play?

That thinkinghad got him to the present, standing before the other with flurries of compliments. Butthe nostalgia grew bitter the longer he pondered it. How much had he forgotten?

“… What isnew?” He offered, after shaking off his simmering malaise. The other’s bravado was much more captivating than thoughts of the past, “Acknowledgement of workwell done? Surely, I would hope you are given more credit for the performance youprovide? You speak as if you are aware of your own skill, and I suppose they would not host you here if not for the skill of it. Thepractice is apparent, and I am hope you are not the only one telling yourself this.”

Stroking athis beard, the Bladesman’s lenses clunked back into theircasings suddenly. Behind them, the man found himself wincing as hebecame aware of a missed introduction. That, and the name ‘Goggles,’ which seemed to slap him for his missed formality. Not very palatable to his ears certainly, and his first instinct was to scold the Vastayan for it. But be polite, Yi. Thatwas the least he could offer. Let it go once, and make sure he has no reason to call you it again.

He steadiedhis expression, and his goggles along with it, as he continued with his measured tone, “Ah, I think I have gotten ahead of myself. Please forgive me Rakan, I have not thought to announce myself. It is not Goggles, as yousay. I am known as Master Yi. I travel widely, and I was not expecting to spendmy time here this day. So, if you have things you must attend to, please do notlet this man keep you. If you would tell me more of your dances however, I would surely be interested in hearing it.”

At least that gave him an exit, if he’d truly managed to offend.

              such a new song to settle upon his ears,     appealing to some base desire that yearns for praise    &    attention     (   oh,     how it dwells in his heart   !   ),     rekindling the passionate fire of his heart that continuously reminds him of this skill's benefits    :    the endless praise from others,     their attention,    &    their inevitable admiration held for none but rakan,     rakan,     rakan.     hah,     to stroke massive ego could be considered folly to some,     albeit rakan feels differently.     this praise is divine,     it is a pleasure he indulges himself in,     caring not for the scorn directed towards him through malevolent gazes     ———     envy,     repulsive sentiment he understands all too well     ———     but beauty's irresistible grace allows him to persevere,     to continue his performance without worry of what others thought.

              ❛     you'd be surprised,     goggles   !     ❜     again with the nickname,     escaping past lips naturally,     at a smooth ease the world could not compete with.     coolness itself,     is rakan in that moment.     'till he recognizes own blunder     /     stranger had been naught but kind to him     (   but within lies an expectation of kindness from all   !!   )     hah,     only a fool would believe that.     it is only luck that he's not being chased down by yet another angry guard with hopes of capturing for his feathers,     or perhaps his head.     ❛     sorry,     sorry,     that was my bad.     master yi,     right   ?     ❜     took a moment,     certainly,     but he's quick to correct himself,     purely out of courtesy     (     that,    &    he'd like to try to remember this guy's name.   )     ❛     i just don't get that sort of praise often,     really.     lot of clapping,     cheering,    &    staring,     but who can blame 'em   ?     either way,     it feels nice to have someone know i work pretty damn hard on each dance   !     ❜

              oh,     but don't let him speak of those countless nights where spirit of song    &    dance resonate within him,     indulging himself in that selfish pleasure of dance,     song   !!     the true passion that feels like his calling,     that feels right down to every sweet melody.     it matters not if it's from dusk to dawn,     it is the happiness conjured from each second that mattered   !

              ❛     aaaaaaaanyway,     ❜     after brief pause,     voice fills the air again,     waiting's too boring    &    leaving honored guest without answer to query is way too rude.     abandoning the routinely,     rather lonesome evening after a festival sounds pleasing.     a taste of something new surely was needed,     even if it wasn't a sweet,     chocolatey delicacy.     ❛     if you wanna hear all about my dancing,     then i could tell you all about 'em   !     maybe even show you some,     too.     consider yourself my guest of honor   !!     err,     though i don't exactly have a place.     i just wander around.     ❜

though loosely enforced before due to an array of circumstances, this blog is now officially 18+ !! if you are under the age of 18, i ask that you please unfollow, softblock, hardblock, whatever works best for you. 

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.

y’all i need some advice. i’m in a slump rn and don’t like anything i write -- i feel like i’ve lost my voice as a writer and a lot of the stuff i produce recently i just...do not like it at all. have you guys ever felt like this? if so, what did you do to try and fix the problem? i want to be passionate for writing again, it just feels so hard now for some reason?