#izar tag

[chqnified]

3 things that kept me alive today lmao

Obscene amount of painkillers

Caffeine

WayV

[izar-tarazed]

Make your muse a cat!

Tagged by @yellowfingcr (thank you! Was going to steal this as soon as I saw cat Heysel appear on my dash) to make cat Izar and cat Ensha, so here they are:

Tagging @miseryscrowned, @auspex-author and anyone who feels like doing this! Feel free to tag me so I see your cats.

[fishermcn]

🤝

@izar-tarazed // a chance bargain struck that ill-omened night; yet back to back they fight till the dying light // accepting.

i.) due to her consistency as a customer (and for not being nearly as troublesome as some of his other "regulars") sam has begun keeping an eye out for more "scholarly" items of interest to bundle with her usual purchases of ink and parchment. most recently this has included starlight shards, borne from a fairly lucrative trade deal with another merchant in the eternal city.

ii.) while not in the business of staff-waving or star-studying, sam's interest in the applications of glintstone have grown since working more closely with izar. while aromatics based on glintstone have been (gruesome) failures, his study of carian sorceries from observing izar has at least refined his sigil work, leading to more potent magical explosive recipes.

iii.) comparatively, there isn't much love lost between sam and ensha. their shared connection to gideon ofnir hasn't given them much common ground to be happy about, after all. it's made worse by the fact sam can't get a read on him, the tells he typically looks for completely missing on a godsdamn skeleton. sam gets the feeling ensha prefers holding the cards in that regard and has been paying close attention to the skeleton whenever he thinks ensha isn't looking.

iv.) over the years of traveling the lands between, sam has picked up or traded for all manner of things. while decidedly not fluent in any sense of the word, sam can recognize a few words of the sign language ensha uses and can usually get a simple "yes" or "no" across with his twitchy gesturing. naturally though, of the ten or so words he knows roughly half of them are swears; knowledge he happily proves to ensha when in a particularly rowdy mood.

[arealcrow]

see you again

~700 words, call of cthulhu (hotoe)

While Izar is sick, his manager brings him breakfast in bed.

"Oh, Tommy, darling, you really don’t have to do all this,” Izar says. From the nest he’s made in their hotel bed, he has a perfect view of his manager fussing over the tray of food that had been brought up for him. 

“What are you talking about? Of course I do, you’re my star,” he shoots Izar a quizzical look over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the food. He’s moved half of the dishes off the tray and onto the table, leaving only the things that Izar had requested.

“I’m simply not presentable, dear. You shouldn’t see me like this,” he whines, pressing one hand to his fevered forehead theatrically. Like it’s an afterthought, he adds, “And I could get you sick.”

“Izzy, baby, you’re not gonna stop me from taking care of you," Thomas starts, a gentle admonishment. He has to pause his train of thought to focus on lifting the tray without spilling anything on it. Tea, a cup of fruit, toast, pots of jam and honey, and eggs all have to be balanced as he brings it over to place on Izar’s lap. A full spread of breakfast for him to pick at as he wished. Thomas settles himself on the edge of the bed next to Izar, so he can bring a hand up to brush his black curls behind his ear.

“Just relax, dollface. You know I don’t get sick easy. If It was gonna happen, I think it would have hit me by now,” he says, and Izar has a hard time summoning up a disagreement. It was a common occurrence for him to come down with a cold after tiring trips, and the journey from New York to London had been a long one. Thomas’ stronger constitution meant he rarely had the same issue.

“If you say so,” Izar acquiesces with a resigned sigh. 

“Attaboy,” Tommy says fondly, stopping to cup Izzy’s cheek before standing and returning to the desk. He takes a cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other, giving it a cursory glance before tossing it towards the bed for Izar to peruse. 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay and have breakfast with you,” he says between bites of toast washed down with coffee. The statement is met with an immediate pout and noise of protest from Izar, who sits up straighter in the bed.

“You have to go?” the singer asks, his voice taking on a noticeably anxious flutter.

“I’ve got some errands to run before catching up with Clerval at lunch this afternoon,” he confirms. Izar’s face only falls further, disappointment and anxiety furrowing his brow in equal measure. Thomas is at his side again in seconds, taking his hands in his own calloused ones. He’s always been unable to see him in distress and not do something to ease it.

“Come on, now. You can’t enjoy Clerval’s company that much; missing lunch with him won’t be the worst thing in the world,” he jokes, just testing the waters of how upset Izar truly is.

“You always go somewhere nice when you see him,” Izar whines. It’s a deflection of the real things he’s anxious about, and a deflection from commenting on Clerval, and they both know it.

“And I’ll take you somewhere nice, next time we go out. Once you’re feeling well,” he insists, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to Izar’s knuckles.

“I can even invite Frenchie, if he’s still in town by then,” he adds with a wry smile, borrowing Izar’s nickname for the dilettante, which earns him a giggle.

“Maybe,” Izar sighs, and then asks, “How long are you going to be gone?” Closer to the truth of his anxiety.

“Just a few hours-” Thomas glances at his watch, which puts the local time at just past eleven in the morning- “I said we’d meet for lunch around noon, I’d say I’ll be back by three. Likely sooner.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise, Iz,” he leans forward, catching the singer’s wide brown eyes to fix him with a reassuring look. They stay like that for a peaceful moment, close and comforted, before Thomas leans in to give Izar a parting kiss. One that leaves Izar leaning into empty space, lingering in his longing, even after Thomas has slipped out of the door to their hotel room.

[eirasummersart]

I don't usually make posts like these but I figured "heck, this is my blog and I put what I want in it!!" So here we go xD

I was listening to some oldish songs I like and one of them I thought fit Izar a lot. Maybe not the full lyrics, but the vibe of it all, it's nice for her~~

And also, since this style fits her, I am considering if she should also be on the light music club too and be a singer and maybe also play the drums sometimes? (Not at the same time xD) But it fits her~ idk, I still haven't finished the info docs for her and Mbali, but I'll keep it in mind~

Since the song is in Spanish, I'll roughly translate it under the cut for all my non-spanish knowing followers~

A morning of wild delirium I awoke with a migratory bird fever, I felt my forehead burning. I left my home, a kind life, I've seen things I never told anyone. I've seen the biggest love, the one a mother gives you and I've seen the strongest pain, Death's face.

The center of my eyes is the center of an earthquake. We'll do it little by little, even if the world has become mad, you'll be able to see it in my eyes. I've jumped from the highest rock into the sea and, naked, I went in the water, I've baptized myself again. The good things I've been remembering, my songs, I gift them to you.

The center of my eyes is the center of an earthquake. We'll do it little by little, even if the world has become mad, you'll be able to see it in my eyes. I was born in a burnt land, I was a kid with a sad gaze. Don't be afraid, I know it's strange, we're looking with our eyes closed.

The center of my eyes is the center of an earthquake. We'll do it little by little, even if the world has become mad, you'll be able to see it in my eyes.

[tallmatcha]

Wouldn’t it be cool if I ever finished a WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the wonderful @kookaburra1701 ✨

Tagging: @gilgamish @girlboss-emporium @initialshh @dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @wraith-caller @izar-tarazed @largemandrill @cornunut @hoarah-babylon @musings-ludicrous @saltymaplesyrup @sneaksandsweets @oblivions-dawn @mirrordaltokki @paraparadigm @maskedbeliever @justafoxhound

D/Ro for your dash.

[annaofaza]

Inspired by this funny post about exactly what Knives would have done with multiple Plant babies had his plan succeeded. Warning: this fic is considerably less funny.

After everything, Wolfwood finds himself defaulted to child-minder.

This wildly amuses Zazie—who pops in and out of Eden with their swarm—and pleases Legato, who seems to think Wolfwood's bought the company line after seeing "the glory of Master Knives' power." He doesn't know if the news has gotten back to the Eye of Michael, whether the lucky few laugh behind their hands at the thought of the Punisher essentially being a babysitter, but Wolfwood doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks.

Less blood on his hands, he'd mused one night. You've always wanted me to stop killing, tongari; it only took... His tongue then crept into his throat, and he trained himself to never think of it again.

There's no denying that Knives isn't exactly happy about a human being around the "chosen," but there's no denying he didn't plan anything long-term for multiple Plant children, and Wolfwood—the faithful, compliant Punisher who made the miracle possible with his betrayal—can be entrusted, or at the very least, bent to his will. After all, his contract with the Eye may be over, but he doesn't trust Knives to trot out the old threat about the orphanage.

And when it comes down to it, the kids are better off with as little interaction with Knives—and Conrad and Elendira and Legato and the Eye—as much as possible. Maybe, Wolfwood thinks, he can spare at least one life if they’re around him enough, that they learn that all humans aren't monsters.

Despite the circumstances of their birth, he knows Vash, if he were here, would have treated them kindly, and really, it isn’t in Wolfwood to act otherwise; some kids back in Hopeland had similar terrible beginnings, and God knows it wasn't their fault.

But he takes one day at a time, playing tag in green grassy fields that are almost a pleasure to fall on, cajoling them to eat another bite of the terrible nutritious slop Conrad cooks up for them, retelling the same bedtime tales Miss Melanie used to recite to the younger ones. Even when they howl like kestrels (with Castor slicing up several packs of cigarettes), when Elendira waltzes in to pinch and prod and taunt (Orion can’t speak for days afterwards and Capella still won’t go near any humans besides Wolfwood), when he’s so tired that he can’t slip his shoes on (sometimes he barely manages to button his shirt), Wolfwood makes it work.

Add the fact that half of the Plant bunch didn't seem to have powers, and while that didn't guarantee them a short life being poked and prodded in Conrad's lab—Wolfwood had heard a hissed exchange, something about a Tesla—Knives seems more detached from them all the same, despite his initial proclamation of "Look at Vash. We thought the same of him. Leave them be, and they might turn out useful."

It had taken all of Wolfwood's strength that day not to punch him.

He tries not to think beyond that. 

The kids are growing fast, though. He fears what will happen when Knives takes an active interest in them, but does the best he can, teaching letters and numbers and colors and bits of Earth history. They all resemble Knives—light-colored hair and marble-blue eyes—yet already have a startling variety of personalities. Izar, for instance, is sharp-tempered and prone to bursts of throwing the nearest objects at walls; Ursa and Adhara cling together all the time, but Regulus and Vega prefer to be on opposite sides of the room; Perseus is an utter clown, making his siblings burst into giggles every chance he gets; and Aster... out of everyone, Aster is most like Vash: protective, kind, and tender in a world that, especially now, takes advantage of stomping anything sweet out.

One day, Wolfwood’s perched underneath a tree, watching the kids play another round of hide-and-seek and occasionally glancing down at Pollux as he devours another anthology about flowers, when Aster plops right into his lap.

He smiles. “Don’t feel like joining them, Aster?”

“No,” Aster says, and yawns widely, showing off his baby teeth.

“What’s up, kiddo? Didn’t sleep last night?”

“Sort of...” Aster looks up at him, seeming to hesitate before saying, “Do you dream, Nico?”

Nico still reminds him of Livio, but Wolfwood never has the heart to correct them. “Sometimes,” he says, hoping Aster doesn’t ask of what. “Did you have one?”

Aster wrinkles his nose. “It was different than the others.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Like...” Aster prods his cheek with his tongue, thinking. “Castor said it was stupid.”

“Let me be the judge of that. What was it?” He hopes it’s not another nightmare about bugs; Zazie showing off the worms to the kids always gives at least one of them the creeps. Aquila still can’t look at an earthworm without bursting into tears.

“I thought I saw... I saw our Father,” Aster says, “but he was different. He had these strange clothes on, with... glasses on his face? Like yours, but they were orange. And round."

Wolfwood’s heart jolts in his chest. It takes all of his control not to leap up, to keep his smile steady, to ask calmly, “And?”

“I felt... safe. Like I do around you. He was in a room like this, but with these bundles of red flowers. Geraniums, like Pollux told us about the other day.” Aster tilts his head, watching Ursa and Regulus tackle each other, shrieking with laughter, as Castor complains that no one’s paying attention to the game at all. Aster shakes his head apologetically when Capella tries to wave him over. “And this word came to me, too, in the breeze. Vash?”

Wolfwood lets out a shaky breath.

“He’s the other angel, isn’t he?” Aster asks. “The one on the windows and paintings and everything.”

Wolfwood’s throat tightens. “Yeah,” he manages.

“Our Creator,” Aster continues, plucked from the familiar spiel Knives gives them on days where he feels like the kids aren’t appreciative enough. “But he seemed sad. Why would he be, if he’s in Paradise?”

“Who told you that?” Wolfwood asks, a bit too sharply.

Wolfwood swallows and looks up, trying not to show any emotion. “I... I don’t know if I can answer that question.”

"I thought you knew him?”

Aster flinches a little, but answers, “Zazie.”

Wolfwood inwardly curses. He’s going to beat their ass. What the hell possessed Zazie to do such a thing? “I did. But it was a long time ago.”

“Can you tell me about him?”

“I...” Wolfwood trails off. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, but more than that, how can he? I loved your father, and I betrayed him. He wasn’t like the Knives you all hero-worship, distant and cool and powerful. He was... he would have...

He remembers the vines swallowing up Julai. The screams that lasted for days, weeks, afterwards, along with the sucking bursts of breath and blood. The strangely beautiful purple blooms, their scent that still lingers in the walls. The endless litany of a piano playing that same damn song, over and over.

The howl that burst from his lips when he saw Vash, encased in stone, lips rounded in a silent scream.

“Nico?”

He stares into Aster’s earnest face, glad that his sunglasses are hiding the moisture building underneath his eyelids. He has kind eyes. “Yeah?”

“I think he wanted to talk to me, but couldn’t. But you can, Nico. Right?”

“Have you told Kn—your Father about this?”

“No. Should I?”

Wolfwood shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s necessary, Aster.” He doesn’t know how Knives will react, and refuses to think of more than Vash is dead. You’ve known this for years. He doesn’t dare. Hasn’t even looked in the room where Vash is as good as a statue, arms stretched by the same knives that rise from his shoulderblades like wings.

But he looks at Aster. Vash’s son. Doesn’t he deserve to know him? Doesn’t Vash deserve more than to be a story?

"I called your father tongari," he begins, closing his eyes, "because of his hair. It stuck up in spikes, like this—" he gently arranges Aster’s into pointed tufts. "He was blonde, like you, but a shade darker than your hair. And he had eyes like yours, as blue as the desert sky. His favorite treat in the whole world was freshly-baked doughnuts, sprinkled with crystals of sugar, and when he laughed, it was like the sun coming out. He was a quick shot, too, but could never hurt anyone..."  

[miseryscrowned]

OC Smash or Pass

Tysm @dragonologist-phd and @arendaes for the tag <3

name: Dardanos

gender: man (he / him)

sexuality: ace bisexual

Tiefling assassin, spent 16 years prisoner in the Hells being trained to be a killing machine

Selfish, his self defense mechanism is anger and violence, likes to burn shit, would sell you out for a corn chip

He built a lute out of infernal iron back in the Hells and uses it to play, you guessed it, metal

Positives: will stab but not in the back, protective towards children, he’s actually goofy and funny in secret, good musician

Negatives: will take a lot of character growth before he opens up, least altruistic man in Goudenhaven, keeps everyone at a distance, anger issues, trust issues, professional hater

I tag: @fantastic-mr-corvid @inquisibrenda @ravencrowley7 @alma-amentet @fllagellant

@blighted-elf @goddevouringserpent @dujour13 @izar-tarazed @wizzardyke

@my-dumb-obsessions @velnat004

Tag List <3

[yellowfingcr]

[ MAKE UR MUSE A CAT!!! ]

// catgirl heysel finally real

tagged by: @schattenmagier (thanks!!!) tagging: @fishermcn @yeleltaan @hexenjagd @through-fire-and-flame @anorlondoarcheryclub (your pick!) @izar-tarazed (both!) and YOU

[chqnified]

What am i going to do to celebrate getting the job offer?

Drink and buy more skz albums.

[izar-tarazed]

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @miseryscrowned (thank you!)

So here's some lines from Izar.

‟I’m not your enemy.”

‟If I wanted you dead, you would already be, and I wouldn’t have bothered to waste my fine ropes on you.”

‟I understand you might find it hard to believe, but I’ve fought enough battles out there to recognize a lethal stance when I see one.”

“I ’d rather travel alone. And I had other plans anyway.”

“I could really use your wits and advice right now.”

‟It’s just a mask, right?”

“Excuse me? This is all? I mean, is that a habit of yours? Going around and killing people, but it’s nothing personal?”

“Why should I have killed you? You’re not some monster in the wilderness.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

‟Now let me have a look at that bolt, will you?”

‟Be… considerate, will you? I only have this one bottle.”

‟We have a mission? You’ve wasted my ink to tell me that?”

‟Dead kings tend to make things messy.”

‟I don’t even know if I want that throne.”

‟So … we go after the rune. Well then. Shall we?”

No tags, feel free to steal this if you want (and tag me so I'll see it!)

[necrophcge]

what kind of tragedy are you?

self-inflicted.

you were given the choice to live, a thousand times over, and yet you never choose it. not intentionally, oh no, you didn't know it was a grave you were digging. but with every turn you were twisting the knife deeper. every decision doomed you more. had it been anyone else, they would have made it. but you? you are so perfectly you, there was no escaping it. the true tragedy of it all, is how preventable it was

tagged by: @ferinehuntress (much appreciated bud!!)

tagging: @yellowfingcr, @izar-tarazed, @goldenfists, @viskozen, @miserycorde, @rotten-pest, @faerunscursed (for wyll?), @shimmerbeasts (for lae'zel?), and you!

[miserycorde]

Which symbolic fruit are you? Pomegranate

The pomegranate is most famously attributed to the Greek goddess, Persephone. Though versions of the story differ: with some saying Persephone was tricked into eating pomegranate seeds to be trapped in the underworld, and some saying she willingly chose to eat the seeds. Pomegranate's have a hard exterior that is tough to crack. Your hard shell is a natural protectant and keeps you safe from those that only wish to use you. Internally you are rich with bounties. You believe in living your life passionately and vibrantly. The idea of surrendering to a fate of being confined to anything, whether it be a relationship, a job, or family dynamic where you are not happy and lack agency is a terrifying prospect. It is fears like this which also prevent you from opening up and showing vulnerability to those around you. However, like the pomegranate whose seeds sparkle like gemstones, you hide inside you incredible beauty that only the most worthy deserve to see.

Tagged by: @yellowfingcr (thanks!!) Tagging: @izar-tarazed, @abandcned (any muse you'd like!), @rotten-pest, YOU

[fishermcn]

what dnd class suits your personality?

rogue.

you're a practical and unusually resourceful person with "big dreams" that may or may not involve copious amounts of money or treasure. you're ambitious, you know what you want, and you'll do whatever you can to get it. some people might think you're selfish, but you know it's important to take care of yourself first. you thrive under pressure and you might have a bit of a mischievous or chaotic side.

subclass: scout.

you are skilled in stealth and surviving far from the streets of a city, allowing you to scout ahead of your companions during expeditions. rogues who embrace this archetype are at home in the wilderness and among brigands and robbers barbarians and rangers, and many scouts serve as the eyes and ears of war bands. you're an independent person who works well when you're left to your own devices. you're adaptable, capable of thriving in a variety of situations and skilled at drawing from the world around you to help you solve problems. you're a natural explorer and you may feel particularly comfortable in nature. you're a quick thinker with sharp instincts who appreciates a good challenge

tagged by: stolen from another blog o'mine!

tagging: @vulpesse, @izar-tarazed, @miserycorde, @hexenjagd, @rotten-pest, @tinyredrose, @sxnguinesxnctum, and you the viewer :y

[rotten-pest]

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Swiped from: @izar-tarazed

This was interesting because Cotesia is only some times chatty. For this I envisioned if Cotesia were an NPC in game.

NPC-esque Dialog lines

“Ah, well met, fellow traveler. How nice it is to meet one another. What brings you here?”

“I? I am following the path of the Unsevered. Time has a way of muddying such trails, but I am not easily deterred.”

“I am loathed to admit it, but you have my thanks…”

“Ah, I see. You think I’ve something for you? You will be disappointed. It’s a shame your sort don’t stay dead, your corpse would nourish the earth so sweetly…”

“Rest, for now… stupid meat bag…”

“All is forgiven. Such is the way of things, little bird... But. Don’t. Do that. Again. Or I will make your next death a long and unpleasant one.”

“… I… won’t… die… not until she—”

“All things must come to an end. All things must die. I hope, little bird, you make way for a world for what once died to bloom again, and die, and bloom, forevermore…”

Other things

“I am naught but what I am. And what I am is the point of the scorpion’s tail.”

“How terrible it is to love something death can touch.”

“Come here, closer… If you do not get out of my way, I have no qualms about leaving you dead in the dirt too. Now, is there something more you wished to say? Or do you tire of wasting breath?”

“That was needlessly reckless. You are stupid. And yet, the help is appreciated nonetheless…"

“Think of rot less like poison—poison is a natural artifact of the world, a defensive substance imbued in flesh, or breath… Scarlet rot is but the world’s desperate scrambling for life and death to resume unfettered. In another world, perhaps it’d draw to life that which should not have stayed dead. But in this world, where gold is worthless with its abundance, well… the rot consumes.”

“How does that work?”

“Can you teach me?”

Tagging: @miserycorde @yellowfingcr @necrophcge @hexenjagd @fishermcn and anyone else who'd like this!

[thedawnforged]

Ten People, Ten Songs

Share ten songs shuffled at random from a playlist. Not tagged, but I saw @eriyu do this and I want to do it too!

I'm gonna use my road trip tunes and definitely not because it's only one of two playlists i have and the other is my bedtime playlist what are you talking about

I Will Show You - Ailee

On Top of the World - Imagine Dragons

BOOMBAYAH - BLACKPINK

Lollipop (Candyman) - Aqua

Cliffs of Dover - Eric Johnson

The Light - Disturbed

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald - Gordon Lightfoot

Fair Winds to Guide - Soken Masayoshi

The Call of Destiny 2 - Jeon Dongseok

Scream - Dreamcatcher

Tag 10 people - @seasideloner @stellarfatalism @velnica @sophexheri @lelu-kitakaze-izar @maccaroni-eh @eld-creative @hamstr @aeonianflames @kuromanyan