❥     𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

              he's not well versed in this type of thing.     strategizing an attack against a single person is one thing,     but strategizing for multiple people    &    devising an intricate web of plan upon plan sounded much too complicated for him.     there was always the option,     for him,     of simply tiring one out    ;    of course,     when it's an entire kingdom full of troops heavily armed,     maybe that wasn't an option.     his input may not be of the best quality,     due to his own methods of battle contrasting heavily with sylas's,     though an attempt is all that's surely needed.     at least,     he hopes so.

              ❛     you're saying we should do that   ?     ❜     what did he call it   ?     a     ...     pincer attack,     or something   ?     he's not entirely certain on how it might benefit them.     thinking on it too much is a chore,     even if it is a necessity to claim victory in this uphill battle.     regardless,     rakan's curiosity is abundant    &    one of his only tools that could help him understand something a little better.     ❛     it's not clicking with me.     why not just charge straight into them   ?     i'm sure they wouldn't expect that   !!     ❜       ///       @unshackles

goggles.     ///     yi-dashi.

Starter for @feyquil

Yi lurked at subtle distance from Rakan, only half aware that he was staring. Normally he didn’t care for incidental places passed along his way, or the celebrations they hosted. Normally, however, festivities weren’t accented by the flurry of dance, and the richness of Vastayan magic. His goggles had been caught, and there they remained to watch. Now, when all was done, he just had to think of something to say that would justify his prolonged gaze.

“… You certainly have the spirit of performance in you.” Yi commented eventually, when he found the right moment to approach. His lenses rolled with micro-adjustments, invisible candles seeming to flutter behind the fixtures as he grasped for his beard, “In a literal sense, perhaps? I could not say much to that, though this much I can say: You must dedicate a lot of time to your craft, yes? If not, then you are a raw talent the likes of which I have yet to see. I do not suspect that is so, however. I stand intrigued and impressed by any sort of dedication to a skill.”

The Bladesman offered a swift dip of his back with the last thought, hoping no awkward silences would find him when he rose again.

              dance is an art that must not be underestimated.     some may view it with scorn,     they may perceive each move futile,     fruitless,     &    as naught but hedonistic movements whose only purpose is to serve one's own sense of pleasure    &    enjoyment.     but,     oh,     it's more than that   !!     far,     far more than just that     ——     these festivals granted dance its opportunity to shine in the spotlight.     under that beauteous,     setting sun,     there is rakan at the center of these festivals,     allowed a moment for his song    &    dance to captivate an audience,     for their eyes to remain on him     (   oh,     how the rekindled fire in their eyes sated him   ),     for their cheers    &    jubilant grins to be for him,     caused all by him.     dance's intricacies are understood by he,     lhotlan vastaya whose dance continues eliciting the elated claps,     he is their beacon,     the epitome of being carefree,     to simply enjoy each moment.     his dance is as invigorating as it is inspiring.     a breath of life bestowed onto them by this art he's meticulously perfected to his standards.

              as his dance comes to a close,     a singular limb is brought up,     graceful    &    unbothered in its movement as it dramatically remains above his head.     held in place for a few moments,     as if to prolong their praise,     only to then transition into a theatrical final bow.     the crowd that once gazed    &    cheered for him begin dispersing,     their smiles a reminder to rakan    :    god damn is he good at what he does.     once he's no longer the center of attention,     it's his cue to leave,     to find the human's delicate sweet,     the chocolate he's long since craved.     such is the plan,     until he's approached by a man from the audience earlier.     huh,     he looks pretty cool.

              ❛     wow,     that's a new one.     ❜     chuckle emits from his throat,     pearly whites visible with the oncoming grin.     praise isn't uncommon,     it's welcomed at all times,     but to this degree   ?     he's rather flattered,     perhaps not only because he was mentioned to have the spirit of performance,     but the simple acknowledgement of his hard work     ...     he kinda likes it   !     ❛     thanks   !     what can i say   ?     i put a lot of practice into my dance,     gotta make sure it's beautiful    &    perfect,     just like me.     i can't settle for less.     ❜     it's his source of pride,     one of many sides to his vanity.     ❛     name's rakan by the way,     goggles   !     but,     you knew that already.     at least,     i think you did.     ❜

              ❛     you call yourself the boss,     but isn't that just a title you're hiding behind,     or something   ?     they usually say guys like you are the weakest of the bunch.     pretty interesting,     ain't it   ?     ❜       ///       @halvett​

              ❛     you call that a fight   ?     ❜    taunting is he,     at so - called   '   king of the pit,   '     truly a presumptuous title,     befitting for someone so full of himself,     he supposes.     there may not be any benefit in messing with one whose arm looks to be near the size of his own head     (   seriously,     what is up with this guy   ?   ),     yet rakan cares little if there's danger involved.     he's in it for the entertainment aspect.     who better to entertain himself than himself,     creating these stimulating situations,     evoking an innate desire for living on the edge   ?     ❛     c'mon,     you can put a little more passion into that next time   !     ❜     a critique from his high spot,     observant gaze peering down at king from above.     far out of his reach.     ❛     otherwise,     your fighting's just boring.     needs a little more oomph to it   !     ❜       ///       @calledcard​

unprompted.     /     always accepting   !!

@quartlet​ said :   ❛ ah ... the tragedy of romance, the bittersweetness of true love. you believe your ending will be a duet, but i think not, i think your ending should be a solitary swansong. where your feathers are strung up like molten gold, splattered across the sky, forever entwined with the sun and from your lips will spill brightest amaryllis petals spew forth. when she finds you, she will hold you forevermore. ❜

              they are the lovers' tragedy.     they love    &    love,     it's a boundless love that transcends their mortal forms,     they do not need these feathers,     their delicate touches,     the soft gazes as proof of their love.     rakan    &    xayah were love embodied,     a relationship of pure harmony,     where he is the sun    &    she is the moon,     one incomplete without the other.     //     as the sun    &    moon are distanced lovers,     they are doomed to die apart from one another.     no matter how they desire a perfect end,     one where both may exit life's stage    &    into a peaceful afterlife,     souls intertwined    &    unbreaking,     such is only a dream incapable of being proved real.     fate does not care how bright he shines for her,     she does not care for the moon's light once she smiles     (   it's fugacious,     ravishing,     none can warm the sun's heart like she can   ),     even if only reserved for him,     their end is not together.

              but he denies it.     he denies the song that dictates their separation,     the bitter reality that wishes to not quell pain,     but urge its conquest of heart    &    soul.     his dance shall end without her by his side,     she shall be restrained as his path ends,     as the feathers he once held dear    &    took pride in will no longer shine,     for even the sun is but a light waiting to be consumed by surrounding darkness.     their love,     no matter how profound,     no matter its importance,     is but a speck on this stage filled with actors,     many alike that live these honeyed dreams perceived as reality,     love is a blinding poison.     the fallen cannot find rest,     the morrow's dying light is an ember,     a faux hope many cling onto.     rakan clings onto.     no matter its sneer,     he wishes to die by her side,     it is his intent,     time nor fate can restrain him     ————     he is but a fool that believes this inescapable labyrinth holds an exit,     pity him,     pity him   !!!!!

              ❛     you're wrong.     ❜     negates jhin's reality,     the objective reality delivered through the lustrous lenses of the virtuoso,     beauty's true beacon,     perfection's successor.     that mask,     it's deceitful,     poised with perpetual grin,     though rakan refuses to falter before him.     'till spoken perception encompasses his own reality,     he has no reason to believe him.     ❛     me    &    xayah   ?     we do everything.     together.     ❜     for once,     the charismatic grin he's so accustomed to wearing is gone,     replaced by pursed lips,     a tense stance,     fearing movement itself.     /     if time is movement,     then he would relinquish his love for dance to stay near her,     to forestall reality's gift,     death's sugar coated words that beckon him,     longing for chilly embrace void of any living warmth,     its gateway to the land death calls home,     he doesn't want to leave her alone.     

              he takes note of it,     his own breathing,     how it's more consistent,     how his glare is a defiant one,     how so     ...     uncool he is.     deep inhale,     deep exhale,     calm down.     ❛     i'm not gonna die without her.     we'll die together.     nothing's going to change that.     ❜     &    though he turns,     saturated azures shielded     ———     the threat of rain is near.     he feels it.     ———     he's aware of his own folly    :    though this man's deceitful nature was embedded to his mask,     his self,     rakan,     too,     wears a mask from the same cloth.     he,     too,     lies.     this tattered heart knows of what must be done should peril conditions be met    ;    he is ready to forfeit his life for her,     interrupt her swan song    &    continue his own 'till he reaches the double bar.     that future may be near,     may be far,     though he is always prepared for it.     being confronted with a reminder of that grim prospect serves only to highlight a hidden title,     his title of   the martyr.

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

🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆 :P

how do u feel abt my rakan?

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

for  @zackinblack

Shipping Call - Send me one if you want to plot one or more of these

💚 - friendship 💙 - kinship ( blood or symbolic familial bond ) 💔 - past relationship 💜 - hateship ( they hate each other but can’t stay away ) 💛 - hateship ( enemies ) 💟 - friends with benefits ❤ - romantic relationship

Reblog if your muse is Bisexual

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