#🐉┇IC

[drachenblood]

@petrokhelidon continued from here.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 with remembering the names of those around him. Common or highborn alike, soldiers or priests, they’d all mattered so very little to him. For his crusade was one that could be fought alone, his would be the hand that would slay Nidhogg and thus would he have his vengeance. That in felling his greatest foe would it also end a centuries long war was but a consequence of his true desire.

How he’s changed now, that he no longer has to try and remember people. That the lives that cross his path are as important as those who’ve stood by his side. He remembers well this Arenvald, for however little he’s spoken to the youth. How could he not when Alphinaud’s talked his ear off, boasting of his adventures with him  at length. How Fordola speaks of him now, the nigh fond derision that he hears in her voice, it reminds him of the way he speaks of Aymeric and Haurchefant both. The exasperation coupled with affection.

Unseen, he raises an eyebrow. Best not to mention it lest he wants his head lopped from his shoulders. For all he knows he might be reading too much into this and thinking too closely of his own companions. Time away has made him grown overfond and sentimental. Enough so that stray mentions of the two have increased in frequency going by the way the scions have teased him about it.

“Blame the company I keep these days.” He shrugs, though for how he may jest, his expression grows serious. “Yet if not for the actions of Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light, of their faith in me, might I still have been the thrall of a vengeful wyrm. That they had faith in me is why I fight. For them and for their dream. Those like Arenvald and Alphinaud are better than us in a way, they’ve no need for such reasons to drive their cause. They fight as they’re good people and mayhap something of Arevald’s faith in you is why you try so hard now.”

Elsewise why would she struggle as she does, when she speaks of the empire as she does now. “The same Empire that abandoned you and would execute you for a traitor for your failures, no doubt.” ‘Tis not the first he’s heard others praise what many would espouse of evil and oppressive. Even having become a turncoat did Gaius still harbor an overwhelming love for his nation. “What then? If I were to somehow break that collar of yours, would you go back to that Empire of yours? Is that where you loyalty stands now?”

[valtsv]

i think it's so so so great that beating someone up can actually injure and scar you. like from a symbolic perspective. every act of violence leaves a mark on you, chipping away at you with each blow until you're nothing but hard muscle and sharp edges. the hurt you visit on others shapes you in its image.

[draconicfool]

It's the middle of the night. That's the first thing that goes through his mind at the knock. That it's the middle of the night and he's tired.

But he's told people before to bother him if they need him. Even at this late hour. But what greets him isn't a familiar face but a stranger.

The small doctor standing in the door on his fluffy robe. Staring for a moment. Processing. The planet has opened so recently it's only natural some ships just weren't ready for the weather. But all the same it's like a prickle on the back of his neck. A warning. Not that he knows why. It just feels off. Adjusting his tone a bit, he'd look the other over before turning his head for a moment. Back towards his room.

"Oh- hang on a tick, sugar-. Let me go get dressed and I'll come, okay?" And he shuts the door for a moment. Actually intending to get dressed. But along with that, he stows his mask into his jacket and goes back to the door. A soft smile plastered on his features. "Lead th' way~."

@xianzhou-craftsman || c.

[houroftheowl]

He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

my entry for the unburnt: journey of the mother of dragons collaboration. all other works can be found on tumblr, twitter, and bluesky, hosted by @mursartifice

[bohemian-nights]

And the sheep she fed to Sheepstealer to bind him to her...how would she have come by those, if not by lifting her skirts for some shepherd?

[drachenblood]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧, reminiscent in a way of how the skies bled in the crisis of the Final Days. Yet now is it absent the raining fire, absent the blasphemies born amidst despair. There is only a peace that settles far more comfortably across Thavnair than it does across his shoulders. He’s still unused to peace, still unsure of what to do with himself without a lance in hand and the weight of his armor wrapped tight and protective about him. For in the oppressive heat of these lands has he eschewed Iceheart for something more loose and comfortable and well does he feel too exposed. Even in the dimming light of sunset are his scales too noticeable.

His footsteps are light when he approaches, though no doubt has she heard him when he’s made no attempts to conceal his presence. ‘Twas too easy to find her, thus leading him to believe she might very well have been waiting for him. “Hiding again, are we.” He settles on a stone beside her, the chill of her presence a relief against the heat. Does she feel it as he does, does it affect her worse? He’s always wanted to ask since stepping foot here. “The others had thought you fled already.” / @akhafah

[drachenblood]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 has she given him all he need know. Though to say as much would further earn her ire, but is there some measure of amusement when well is he versed in this language she speaks. For still does he employ it now. If she thought him bad then he’d pay to see her spend an afternoon or two in the company of the Scions – the Little Lord especially. Or mayhap ‘tis best to keep her away from the boy when like would he return to the Rising Stones or wherever else they’ve got themselves holed up and find a slaughter on his hands, this girl living up to the appellation tied tight ‘bout her shoulders.

Wyrmblood he’d been called, for how much of it he’d spilt. Once a name he’d born with pride, then with shame come the closing of the war, when all truths had been lain bare and now once more is it his to claim. For ‘tis the name the dragons would give him too. Wyrmblood now, for what he shares with them, those who have become his kin. But with the Butcher, is there not like to be such a story to be found, no absolution from the people she’s terrorized – her people, if such is how she would see them. Like as not if he were to ask now that would her denial be vehement.

“Tell me, what sordid stories have you heard of my homeland?” Stories of the endless cold no doubt, and would it all be true. “You’ve lived all your life in such blistering climes as this, think you’ve the mettle the handle the the frost-rimed hellscape of Coerthas?” She’s as sublte as a rampaging bull in this heavy handed change of talk, but he may as well squeeze blood from stone for all that he was getting out of her regardless. And he’d not have her ready to take her blade to his throat for pressing to hard. Fury, still he wonders of the madness that’d taken him for this scheme, what foul airs must he have inhaled to addle his brain so to think he could render aid to a woman as willing to accept his hand as a feral mongrel would to a stranger.

“We make for Dravania, ancient land of the dragons. Once eternal foe of my people, now our uncertain allies. A peace won through much hardship and loss, but a peace nonetheless. A thousand years of suffering brought to an end and I would see that it remains so, no matter what it may take of me.” At this he chances a glance at his companion, still so tense atop her chocobo. “What do you know of dragons?”

Was it faith or pride that had her follow Arenvald? That made herself subject to this collar, try so bloody hard to make up for at least some of the blood on her hands, if though she knows there is no way she'll ever atone for all of it? She can still feel the hard clench of anger and dread at the very thought of Arenvald in that infirmary, playing the hero to save her of all people, like he had seen her measure and thought she was still somehow worth saving, despite the fact that she'd never asked for it. Does that make her loyal to him, then? Or simply in debt?

She huffs out a frustrated breath at her circling thoughts, a calloused hand lifting to pinch the bridge of her nose. Gods, did he ever shut up? If this was what happened when hanging out for too long with that little ragtag band of heroes━

" What does it matter? " Fordola finally finds her voice anew, tight and low as it may be. Green hues open, fixing a hard stare 'pon the dragoon now riding at level with her. " If the rumours are true, there is naught left to go back to even if I could. " Even if part of her would, still, after everything. If only to see the truth of it with her own eyes. To find if there was still anyone left, that she wasn't entirely alone in this, even if she herself had a hand in killing her━

" I've made my bed. I'll live with the consequences, " Her tone has a note of finality, underlined by a warning in her gaze for Estinien not to push any further. The Empire, her motivations, her choices, they are all a convoluted mess of contradictions and emotional turmoil that spawns a low head ache behind her eyes even just trying to think of it, let alone being pushed to talk about it. Arenvald has tried many times, earnest and optimistic as he always is and yet she still cannot trust herself to attempt to untangle all of it.

That she now has this dragoon try and do the same out of some misbegotten sense of kinship━

Laughable. She's not worth that either.

" What should I be aware of, where we're going? " She switches tack, the change of subject somewhat hard-handed, but if he's so determined to talk she'd rather focus on what's ahead rather than have him play the mind-healer.

[valtsv]

my top tip for surviving any roleplaying community is to understand the golden rules "in character =/= out of character" and "RP boundaries can and should be negotiated ahead of playtime, and can always be renegotiated" and stick to them. which means that "a character's behaviour, and the ways they interact with other characters, do not mean that the player harbours any of those sentiments unless expressed otherwise out of character" but also "all players have a right to express discomfort or dissatisfaction with the ways we're interacting through the medium of our characters, and you should not react defensively or dismiss anyone else's concerns just because it 'isn't real'".

[draconicfool]

"Anton-." There's a small huff as he's taken down with the other's arm around him. Features a light red as his tail wraps around his leg. Just looking up at the other as he hides himself slightly in that much too big collar of his sweater. "S' m' job, y'don't have t' pay me back-." Not to mention such a thing would have him feeling very awkward. Even as those clawed fingers push together. Purple eyes darting away quickly. "Jus' buy me a drink or somethin' later."

@belobogbro || c.

[joelletwo]

Here's a dumb one. G7 Sugi.

[ID: gintama fanart of takasugi drawn for an expression prompt of sticking a tongue out with big shiny excited eyes. he is drawn boredly and slouchedly eating ice cream from a spoon, then lighting up when he tastes it]

really challenged me to think about what a happy sugi could possibly look like lol THANK u

[drachenblood]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 and some he’d not seen afore all on full and pride display. The heat, the vibrancy, all of it in such contrast to the home he’s left behind. ‘Tis difficult not to make the comparison, when at times does he find himself startled into reminiscing by something so small and inconsequential. A turn of a phrase, a graven image of a bygone era, all of it more a whispering echo than of true resemblance. Mayhap both nations and their shared history so intwined with that of the First Brood has birthed some manner of brief similarities. Mayhap he’s an addled fool, imagining something that’s not there. It matters not in the end, he supposes, there’s not a soul he would confide with such absurd musings.

That Iceheart would leave ill surprises him, if anything has he’d been expecting for this. More so than he himself, has he come to understand hers is not a spirit not like to linger in any one place for overlong. “Aye, you’ve the right of it. The satrap’s commissioned my continued presence here and thus do I remain.” To bring some measure of Ishgardian discipline to the great wyrm’s military arm. A thousand years of such might honed to the brutal efficacy in slaying Vrtra’s own kin now imparted to better aid and protect a wyrm. The founding fathers of the Order would be turning in their graves.

“Your decision to make for Garlemald wouldn’t have aught to do with our two guileless charges would it?” Though like as not would Ysayle have chosen to such an inhospitable clime for a number of reasons, all of it becoming all but a beacon calling her to a land of ruin, needing the merciful hand of those who would dare shoulder the burden of the disenfranchised. “Tell the twins…” He huffs, thinking to the stacks of letters sent his way already, penned by the boy and some even by his sister and how long it’s been since he’s bothered to send word back. What is there to say that’s not already been said? “Tell them I’ve got things well in hand here.” What either of them and this woman included might make of his words he’ll leave to them. “Anyroad, how much longer do you intend to stay?”

And so there she stands beneath the canopy, arms crossed as her eyes roam about the mundane scenes of chattering passersby unraveling in front of her — though parts of her are overjoyed to see the merry children, unburdened by the horrors of a bleak tomorrow, Ysayle cannot rid herself of the encompassing feeling of being an interloper. Her camaraderie with the Scions aside — and that association alone gets her more than a few polite stares, irregardless of her involvement in Thavnair — she is not accustomed to the bustling activities of lively settlements. The towns she had visited in the past were... well, not as welcoming to her presence.

She has picked up on his approach long before his voice reached her ears — there are only a few who would walk up to her so openly, and even less who would not call for her attention. But even without that telltale familiarity, he was not a person easily mistaken for anyone else. Standing side by side in the shade like this, with her severely out of her element, they must make for an amusing sight.

Ysayle chooses not to react to his quip, if only because she has nothing to offer but excuses. “Had they?” She knows. For one who yearned for companionship as much as she had, it feels ridiculous to avoid the ones so readily available for her. But the guilt sticks uncomfortably, much like the heat that permeates around the settlement and latches onto her skin.

“Well, I’m afraid they will be right ‘ere long. I plan to embark for Garlemald soon.” It was never in her plans to linger in Radz-at-Han, but the idea of hanging around the Lord Commander’s second-in-command does not excite Ysayle one bit. She will, if anything, miss the gentle leadership of the great wyrm that watches over the city. “I take it you intend to stay here for the time being? I don’t recall seeing you anywhere near the airship landing.”

[daenysthedreamer101]

favorite characters??

Hello, lovely 💕

You didn't specify which franchise but I'm gonna assume you mean ASOIAF.

In GOT definitely Dany. Not to sound like Jon lol but she is my Queen and I absolutely adore her. She is beautiful, smart, strong and just cool lol. (I will never get over s8)

In HOTD, it's harder to say. Definitely team black but I really am interested by Aemond and how his story will unfold. Obviously Rhaenyra is my Queen, love her and I totally support her. Also Daemon is just really amusing to watch 😭

But also the dragons lol they might be my favorite characters.

There are many other charactes in asoiaf I love (robb, margaery, oberyn, ser barristan) but Targs are my faves.

(Is it obvious I'm a Targ supporter/loyalist lol?🔥🐉)

[twilightssparkle]

Rarity 💚

[drachenblood]

“A little bird’s told me you’ve been to see the children.” Mayhap more than a single bird for the orphanage was always a flutter with excitement, ready to natter on about this or that each time he’s managed to visit. Thus far have the children been ever eager to speak of this woman and her time there. ‘Tis an odd thought and he can ill imagine one such as Zero indulging in their games, yet more than one child has attested to this fact. A failure of imagination does little to stem his amusement, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he regards the other woman. “Never took you for the sort to have such a soft heart.” / @confluxium

[drachenblood]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, she is a font of wonder. ‘Tis nigh impossible to deny the infectious nature of her joy as he watches. Though he can admit with ease how little he cares for such things as flora and fauna, even he can admit the miracle that takes place atop the rooftops. For having lived amidst a hellscape of naught but ice and snow when he remembers a time when Coerthas had been a verdant and vibrant land, such flowers as she discerns tugs at the part of his heart he’s kept buried away for years. The piece of himself that’d belonged to a child he’d meant to strangle though now does he give it voice, allow the part of himself he’d denied for years and years a moment to flourish.

“I can ill divulge more of these gardens save that they’re meticulously kept. When last Vrtra and his aides had conveyed me about the palace they’d much to say yet little of it have I retained.” Indeed was the satrap over proud of his land and his people. And in a time with so little joy, he’d allowed the wyrm this indulgence.

“Mayhap when next we see the wyrm we might ask of him a moment with his botonists.” ‘Twould be an imposition for sure, but he doubts there exists a soul within Thavnair who could deny the Warrior of Light much these days. He moves from the flowers to the edges of the rooftop, pointing them to the markets in the distance. “If you’ve had your fill of the gardens then we might as well visit the markets. ‘Tis Thavnair’s pride and joy, after all.”

Z'nakei spun around a little to take it all in once they had landed, stumbling a couple of times. She beamed widely, eyes wide with amazement. "There are so many growing here!"

She flitted from patch to patch, getting more and more excited with each flower she recognized. "These are from La Noscea! Oh- and these are from the Black Shroud!"

Of course, she also stopped to admire the patches that had blooms native to Thavnair. And then, seeing another patch she recognized, she squealed a little, flapping her hands excitedly towards herself in a beckon for him to come over. "These are Coerthan!!" She sighed wistfully, hands clasping together. "Whichever botanist Vrtra has in charge of these, they're very talented~ Flowers from Coerthas are harder to grow in warmer areas, I've tried."

[valtsv]

can i hunt you down (passionately) (i will kill yoi with my crossbow)

gay sex is so complicated these days