#ithirial

HEATHYN MY DARLING, MY LOVE!!! look at us, dude, surviving the trenches & still kickin it like baddies! i just have to shoutout ani because i have not fallen in love with an oc the way i have with ani in a fat minute & that's all you and your passion for her and your talent and the whole world you've built for her. i've said this before, but i'll say it again, the lore you built out is so frickin rad, seeing it all together is so great to see! on the not writing front, you're absolutely hilarious & getting to go feral with you is a total highlight. thank you for always hearin me out when i'm a total grump & for just being an awesome person!!!

@ithirial​​ asked ​[ hand ] — from Connor / ithirial !!!

the sirens in south boston are loud enough and constant enough to drown out any noise that a normal person would produce. just talking on your cellphone down the street would interrupt it for a few minutes as not only police cars would fly by but ambulances in tow on their way to the scene. little did they know, there was one thing in this world that perhaps was louder than them, and that was temperance shaw herself in the throes of passion. lain out beneath the irishman above, hands reaching up to grab the back of his neck, long manicured nails scratching lightly before grabbing at whatever was beneath her as his hands grabbed at her hips, long deliberate strokes into her making the baker gasp and moan. for as much as she tried to contain it, with an arch of her back she couldn’t, the loud moans wracking through her. this is why he had to hold her down, she was squirmish and very handsy as he went on. 

“Breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” — Aranea to Ardyn // @ithirial

"Into absolute bloody tatters."

It's been a long night. Strange dreams have tumbled through his broken mind, and that fracture is the only one that concerns him. His heart is closed to all that has come to pass in these last few days. Dead kings and fallen realms are only a holding pattern.

The presence of a mercenary, however, does throw a wrench into the operatic melodrama. Golden eyes flick over the Commodore's form, too young for this sorry lot, too promising. That idiot Ravus might be younger, but he carries himself as befitting his station. He belongs here, with demented emperors and worse monsters.

Aranea will not be an easy one to crack. Things must be reciprocal between them, information for information, blow for bow. A crystal glass fills with heady liquid, an offering to the only goddess left in the sky. He slides it towards her, drinking in the scent of his own glass.

"Now that the Lucian invasion has succeeded, I fear the blush is off the rose. It holds no allure for me. I spent years conceiving the spectacle, and like so many fathers, I find the fruits of my labor wanting. If you're seeking sordid tales of conquest, I believe Prince Ravus is the one to see." A small sip. His mouth is so damnably dry. Ardyn can feel the ichor pulsing through his gums and tongue.

A manicured nail scrapes along the side of the vessel. He turns his head to study her again.

     solitude is kindred to him ; raised intertwined in isolation until the four walls of his apartment felt more like home than the grandeur of the citadel ever did. lackluster, yet his own dwellings greet him upon waking, as does the other company now present. against the door stands his shield, loose and unshackled, but not unguarded — never. noctis rises to a seat, grinding the knuckle of his first finger into his eyes until he can summon a lasting bolt of clarity.

  " who stuck you on babysitting duty ? " comes the rasp of voice tightened by the lingering grip of sickness. he's spent the better part of the last week staring at his own four walls, and while not eager to, apathetically swings himself to stand before shoving the newly armiger-summoned console controller square into gladio's chest on his way to the living room.

                              " loser cooks dinner. "

" you implying i ever get your bad side, big guy ? " in a lilt of prompto's tone is something playful born ; the clone's got the shutter off and lens already aligned and aimed like the sights of quick silver —  only where one shot bullets, the other shoots in frames.