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here comes a thot...
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hey lil mama lemme whisper in your ear
#what is this ??????#warcraft#blizzard#battle for azeroth#i'm putting it in the tags because i want to die#╰♗╮OOC !
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do you guys think rite aid would deliver me ice cream in a foot and a half of snow
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i’m here && i’m gonna try and do some replies. if i owe you smth just like this real quick ok ilu
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I just heart eyes so much at your Jaina. Soo good.
i was gonna save this in my inbox but who has time for that honestly ??????????????? thank you sm i don’t know who you are but i love you
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╰♗╮ ARTHAS.
@archmagc | PLOTTED STARTER
NOT all that glittered was gold, no! This was grand, a much greater pleasure to look upon than gold. There indeed some things that were NOT to be obtained by material means. And one of those things was power. Arthas had asked for it, claiming he would have GLADLY paid any price for the sake of saving Lordaeron, for the sake of delivering it from its miserable fate.
HAD THIS FATE EVER BEEN AVOIDABLE? IT MATTERED NOT.
A gloved hand was slowly raised. In an ALMOST tender gesture, he sought to stroke her face. She was truly a beauty to behold, BRIGHTER && BETTER than all the riches of the world gathered in one vault. Now, what had drawn his attentions upon her once more was not truly this. She ALSO possessed power, a power so great. With her at his side, he would have truly come to grand achievements.
AND THE THOUGHT BROUGHT A CROOKED SMILE TO HIS LIPS.
HIS fingers came then to her hair of gold, glance as ice meeting living one. There was often no need for words between those who understood each other. “Will you join me?” he asked. Any trace of tenderness or warmth was gone from his voice. There was only coldness, only death. Not all that glittered was gold. And, at times, all beauty should have DIED.
INSTINCT tells her to flee. that there is no HOPE in reaching him beyond these BARREN hills ----- the SURVIVORS were on their way to safety, or at least she HOPED, but something, perhaps the naive notion of LOVE, begged her to return to him. to try and PIERCE the murderous veil that had draped around his shoulders, SPILLED his father’s blood, cut DOWN his people. there is no warm WELCOME that awaits her, just howling wind on the approach to the capital. no armed guardsmen, just the distant gurgling of some UNHOLY creature, held at bay by.. something. staff in one hand, the mage draws a CHILLED breath ----- the air here is still and COLD, and it settles into her bones. even as some may yet live within, this place reeks of DEATH.
alarms fire INCESSANTLY at the back of her mind as she steps into the courtyard. what ‘PEOPLE’ remain refuse to look upon her, shuffling AWAY as she crosses the bridge to the seat of the KING, apprehension writhing in her shoulders. fingers TWITCH with the effort of restraining herself from FLEEING at the sight of him propped up on his STOLEN throne, hair bleached white, UNRECOGNIZABLE from a distance. but even as the hairs at the back of her neck stand on END, muscles coiled for a hasty RETREAT, she pushes forward over trodden petals into the throne room. she needs to KNOW. needs to look into his eyes and see if he is truly LOST.
HER PRINCE. surely this madness had not CONSUMED him wholly. somehow, she could REACH him, if she just ----- had a MOMENT.
his footsteps ECHO, heavy on stone, the sound reaching the high ARCHES of the chamber and rattling about in her ears. it takes a HEARTBEAT for her to look up at him, the SICKLY pale tone of his skin, the chill on his very BREATH. words die, mangled in the bottom of her THROAT, and as cold steel finds her cheek she finds herself pinching her eyes SHUT, wincing from the sensation as it courses SHIVERS down the side of her whole body, stopping at LIMP fingers. as he pulls away, her grasp is instinctive, laying her hand at the joint of his WRIST as she forces her gaze back into contact, a SICKENING feeling writhing in her stomach.
“ ARTHAS ----- ” she hesitates, speech SHAKING, “ WHAT YOU’VE DONE HERE.. TO YOUR PEOPLE, TO YOUR FATHER ! ” desperation SEIZES into her shoulders, dropping her staff as trembling hand BRUSHES tip along his jaw, trying to draw the WARMTH back out of him, some sign of the man she KNEW, the man she LOVED. “ I’M NOT HERE TO JOIN YOU ----- I’M HERE TO SAVE YOU FROM THIS MADNESS. PLEASE ----- YOUR PEOPLE ARE FRIGHTENED, THEY NEED THE MAN I KNOW YOU ARE !! ”
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i hope y’all on the dash get as emotional about this reply as i did while writing it
#mesmer voice: always emotionally invest in your character so your HEART can BREAK all the TIME#╰♗╮OOC !
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HQ rip of “Here Comes A Thought” from Mindful Education
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just so everyone knows seasonal depression is about to kill me s o
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☂ of the magical kind 😉
( ☂ ) @thronecraft gives jaina his umbrella. | not accepting !
it does not often RAIN in dalaran. with so much MAGIC around the place, it’s a simple enough task to keep it CLEAR of poor weather. but the herbalists on occasion make STRONG enough cases for a bit of NATURAL precipitation, to test the feasibility of FLORA thriving out in the natural world. the HUMIDITY is unkind, but the smell of DAMP cobblestone and the sight of mages huddled close, RUSHING from building to building, brings a soft smile to the ARCANIST-IN-TRAINING’S lips.
shoulder BRIEFLY brushes against the arm of her companion ---- HUDDLED so close under kael’thas’ incantation, it is DIFFICULT to avoid tripping one another. it results in a casual stroll, with one LEANING into the other, easy laughter on her part seeming to EASE the tightness in his shoulders. she ENJOYS his company ---- it is good to have FRIENDS when the ALTERNATIVE is spending hours alone, pouring over TOME AFTER TOME. and kael’thas? he was an EXCEPTIONAL study partner. talented in his own right, no where NEAR bad to look at..
her train of THOUGHT leaves a faint splash of COLOR in her ears, leads her to DISTRACTION, and she stumbles over his foot, CATCHING herself with assistance from his own hand, SECURE on her upper arm. once she’s RIGHTED herself, she is close to him, ALMOST TOO CLOSE, and there’s a CHUCKLE snagged in her throat, and he’s YET to let go. there is a pause, as there is a soft CLEAR of her throat, PUSHING loose locks behind an ear. for JUST a moment, the only SOUND is the patter of rain on the stonework, the faint SHIMMER of coursing ENERGY lingering above them. she smiles, SOFTLY, but before she SPEAKS she finds herself released, with a DISTANCE placed between them.
the small bit of COLOR in his face, she tells herself, is from his SUDDEN step into the rain, the COLD settling in quickly. overhead, his incantation STANDS, keeping her dry, having left its MASTER out in the bitter chill. still, she can NOT find the right words to address the STRANGE sensation of tension that TETHERED her eyes to his in that moment of recovery. after a BEAT, she extends a hand, fingers OUTSTRETCHED to beckon him closer. perking a brow at his HESITATION, she insists, stepping CLOSER to loosely loop her arm about his, BENT at the elbow with a wide SMILE, a small glimmer of teeth.
“ COME ON. WE SHOULD GET INSIDE BEFORE YOU MELT. ”
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THE EXCESSIVELY DETAILED HEADCANON TUMBLR MEME
Send me some numbers, and I will tell you:
What does their bedroom look like?
Do they have any daily rituals?
Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?
What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?
Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)
Eating habits and sample daily menu
Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time
Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging
Makeup?
Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?
Intellectual pursuits?
Favorite book genre?
Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?
Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)
Biggest and smallest short term goal?
Biggest and smallest long term goal?
Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress
Favorite beverage?
What do they think about before falling asleep at night?
Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?
Turn-ons? Turn-offs?
Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?
How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?
Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?
How do they see themselves 5 years from today?
Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?
What is their biggest regret?
Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?
Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)
Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)
Most prized possession?
Thoughts on material possessions in general?
Concept of home and family?
Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)
What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?
What makes them feel guilty?
Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?
Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?
What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?
Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?
How misanthropic are they?
Hobbies?
How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?
Religion?
Superstitions or views on the occult?
Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?
If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?
How do they express love?
If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?
Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?
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DRIP.
DRIP.
DRIP.
the halls just outside the chamber are slick, damp, and the distant, echoing DRIP serves as a feeble heartbeat in dark channels. steps are slow, deliberate. the former grand magus, taking long strides towards the chamber. step, DRIP. stout bodies bend at the knee as she drifts by, chin lifted high with the most content of smiles. her inquisitors have had little luck with this.. morsel. too proud to give in, they’d said. step, DRIP. the metal that bars the entrance screeches as it is hefted aside to make way for honored guest, dimly lit torches flickering with felfire, casting dancing shadows.
DRIP. the sight of him is sorry, still some muscle straining against chains. dark streams of crimson long since dried, and exhaustion in the gaunt of his cheeks. but despite this, emerald eye is burning in defiance. a soft chuckle shakes loose from her chest, smile small and genuine. this.. was wondrous. a single hand lifts to wipe the smile from her lips, expression falling to a morbid curiosity. step, DRIP. a firm hand pushes the elf’s head back, knotting into silver locks to move by force if need be.
“ LOR’THEMAR... ” her voice is sickly sweet, honey dripping from her tongue as features twist into a small, delighted grin, “ HOW DID YOU END UP HERE, I WONDER? ” DRIP. the release is unceremonious, bold enough to turn her back, coming to rest at a gnarled iron seat on the opposite wall. “ LEAVE US. PREPARE THE INCENTIVE. ” peons jump and scatter at the command of the words, fleeing the cell without a second thought. DRIP. the mage rests her staff against the far wall, and hums, briefly, looking over this.. poor excuse for a man.
“ MY INQUISITORS TELL ME YOU ARE DEFIANT. THAT YOU REFUSE OUR GIFT. ”
@vaincraft
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╰♗╮ GUL’DAN.
@archmagc
PANDEMONIUM! The city was cast in to chaos– undead running to and fro as they prepare their defense against an encroaching Alliance. Their home was to be taken, and he with it were he not to act quickly. With Ranger and assigned guard both distracted, Gul’dan made his way hobbling from out of the royal quarter and downwards into his prison cell. There, he would reach into the wall to retrieve a scrying stone– one that pulsed with green magics.
“ Now! I must be taken now or all will be lost. Ready your end of the portal, quickly! ” He rasps into the stone– already etching his emerald runes into the far wall.
this is not the FIRST time that lady jaina proudmoore has gone off on her own, seeking SOLITUDE with her thoughts. it is HERE, on one of many small, SCATTERED islands across the seas surrounding kul tiras, that she finds a moment of PEACE AND QUIET. while guardsmen await her return to her VESSEL, she moves silently through bristling UNDERBRUSH, staff in hand, sunken eyes remain on the DISTANT horizon. as her figure DISAPPEARS over the ridge, pace QUICKENS, traversing down to the old, humid hollow, just as HAGGARD voice comes railing through the NETHER into the back of her mind. shoulders slope as eyes roll SKYWARD, gathering her skirts to head into the cavern. it is HERE she can truly be herself ------ leather clad WINGS and sharpened TEETH, slate colored skin and eyes that burn with FELFIRE. the time has come.
“ I HEAR YOU, GUL’DAN. I SEE TALES OF YOUR PATIENCE ARE NOT EXAGGERATED. ” voice ECHOES back as she begins her ministrations, bringing LIFE to the runes, a flare of emerald as each begins to waver and churn with POWER. a smile curls on painted lips, as a SWIRL of turbulent green begins to scrawl across cavern walls, FILLING the chamber with a growing GLOW, “ WAITING ON YOU, WARLOCK. ”
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You’re more meddlesome than a banshee! ( penned by kat )
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MY FATHER ONCE TOLD ME THAT PEACE WAS LIKE A DREAM;
BEAUTIFUL, EPHEMERAL,
U N A T T A I N A B L E.
I DIDN’T LISTEN.
* personals don’t reblog >:C * img. credit
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THAT LAST POST SOUNDED RLY VAIN I’M SORRY
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