#barfs this is so...

[tsunael]

wolcred week |  1. 'the first.'

They all knew it was coming. Either their brightest star would claim the last of the Light, or the Light would claim her.

What were they to do but careen to their inevitable deaths? He had sacrificed one lamb for another, and now a third was to be laid upon the butcher's block. How many must die so that another might live?

He would not forget the sight of the woman before him, holding her outstretched hands aloft as the curtain of Light parted one last time to reveal the night sky in all her glory. Menphina smiled down in a smirk of a crescent for their efforts, and just as she had appeared, was the curtain drawn once again.

He didn’t need an aetherometer to see that Tsuna was suffused– the aether was thick, cloying enough to be seen. The ewer of her body failed to contain it, finally splitting at the seams for a means of escape.

Their ascian friend dealt the final blow. The Exarch, in his well-meaning duplicity, left for dead. And then Tsuna slumped to the ground, just as lifeless.

He ought to be angry– furious– for Urianger’s joint deception, for his own empty hands, or for the cards Sister Fate had dealt them time and time again, but the queer feeling roiling within him was not one of anger, but of fear. He stood there, powerless, shaking to his core whilst the twins rushed to Tsuna’s aid alongside Ryne.

Even Minfilia could not wholly extinguish the Light– she could only freeze it in time– and as Ryne sank to her knees beside the supine woman in hopes of doing the same, he could only watch in abject horror.

“Give her room,” he barked, though the twins were undeserving of his ire as he approached. They still took a collective step back.

Brilliant white blood readily trickled from Tsuna’s nose, and by way of her laboured breathing it was evident that she was being torn apart by a force of which a layman could not hope to see. Something within Tsuna was stirring, whether it was brought about by her own will, or by Ryne’s suppression, he couldn’t know.

It began first in her hands as they twitched and grasped for purchase, then her spine as it coiled. Her eyes snapped open, hungry and searching, as she lunged for the Oracle’s throat in hopes of supping upon the wellspring.

Thancred fell to his knees, wrestling the woman onto her back as an inhuman screech tore from her throat. “Don't stop!”  he cried out, harsh with concerted effort. There was an unnatural strength burgeoning within her tiny frame that even as a man grown he struggled to contend with, and if Ryne did not finish the ritual, it would swallow them whole.

Ryne was shaken, but nothing if not determined. The power flowed through her once more, and Tsuna’s struggles came to a head. She thrashed upon the ground against his weight, spitting blood, and gnashing teeth. She would bite her tongue if it kept up-- he could barely hold her steady long enough for Ryne to work in her magicks. 

“In our lifetime, please!” 

"I'm trying!" "Ryne made a frustrated growl of effort as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. The very aether about them seemed to compress, tangible enough that even he could feel it become leaden as it coalesced.

Tsuna cried out one last time, waning to a whine as she pushed wildly against his arms, seizing. Her legs writhed as if a sudden, great pain knifed through her. And then all was silent. 

Ryne immediately flagged, catching herself on the marble. Her power had all but been exhausted whilst he held the aftermath limp in his arms. Y’shtola and Urianger had begun to crowd about, to inquire, to plan, to move, but all he could do was hold the small woman in his arms, and pray to the Twelve, unseen, that the Light did not break through once again whilst their last bastion was too weak to hold.

“Ryne,” he called, softly, intently. Apology was writ together in his tone. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, though he knew she waned, looking close to tears from it all.

He swallowed thickly, realising he shared in the sentiment. 

Adjusting Tsuna’s body in his arms, he felt just how cold she had grown. They needed a chirurgeon's assistance, and to get off this Godsforsaken rock, but more than that they needed a miracle. His hands would not stop trembling.

“Ryne, you know that I would not deign to ask a favour of you.” He breathed for a long moment, hanging his head low in penance. “Gods–” He swore. “You have to help her. I– We can’t lose her to this.”

Ryne stared back at him, having caught her breath, eyes wide, and glassy. She was searching him for something he couldn't know.

She opened her mouth, before aborting the question. Finally, she pursed her lips, looking uneasy in a way that only managed to make him feel worse. 

“I’ll do what I can,” she whispered, and he had no choice but to believe.

[k4pp4-8]

nap dragon ^^

[thereweredragonshere]

Little guys round 4

[000marie198]

Haaaghhh remember when.. remember when they... remember when they family

[tooshnado]

hugs

[spyderschaos]

Another day, another dragon hunter fleet to burn down to ashes

[bioorangendirektsaft]

listen i think if anyone would figure out that reptiles and birds are related to each other it's definitely tuffnut

[kryobug]

Closing Night Spoilers 😇

hai tumblr I havent posted in one billion trillion years this is me coming back because Closing Night gave me a dopamine rush and I crunched tjis stupid meme in like 3 hours ok Bye..

[yenich]

aaaawwwww

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; pretty when you cry.

warnings .: smut, mdni 18+, v! penetration, kinda toxic simon.

.: masterlist.

simon riley who gets turned on when you cry. he feels like an asshole about it but he can’t help it, you’re just so pretty when you cry!

your passionate ranting stuttered by your sobs, tears just pooling in your eyes as you try to control your emotions. the second simon presses a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing just under your eye, you stop thinking and let the waterworks run.

he’s frowning at the words that you express, listening closely to everything you’re saying. sure he’s getting hard but he’s a good multitasker — “i know, baby. how could they do that to you.” he’s nodding along, shifting in his seat and adjusting the tension in his pants.

simon’s gaze is stuck to your puffy lips, your saltwater tears making them slightly chapped. he’s pressing his thumb into your bottom lip, swiping over it and telling you to calm down and breathe; his thoughts running wild to the sound of your uneven gasps and hiccups, reminding him too well of how you sound underneath him.

the same tears that stain your cheeks when he's folding you over and stretching you out. he's comforting you again, in more ways than just words. "y'feel better, bun?" "still cryin'? my poor, baby."

he wants you to forget about the bad day that you had, hating that it'd been so terrible that you'd come to him in tears. simon thinks he's helping when he's slowly rutting into you, his touch so gentle and caring. he just wants to take care of you — make you cry for him in ways that both of you enjoy :(

[r-aindr0p]

Sneaking in

[gluttonous--beast]

the sillies

[midoristeashop]

was feeling silly goofy so I undragoned the dragons

I’ve seen some artists draw human versions of the dragon gang so naturally I wanted to join in the fun 😌

Edit: HELLO to ALL people who have reposted this or are planning to repost this (looking at you Pinterest) please don’t!! I do not appreciate my art being reposted and respectfully if you have please please take it down thank you

[amelia-yap]

warrior

[roach-works]

funniest kind of alien to meet: a big bearlike species that cultivates a symbiotic population of bugs in their fur. the bugs distribute oils, eat dead skin and hair, and fight off parasitical species. it's like an external immune system for them. they only lose their bugs on death, when the colony flows from the cooling body into the warm fur of the assembled mourners. a bearlian with no bugs, due to fire or frost damage, is in need of immediate transfusion or they will be at risk of terrible infections.

unfortunately humans have no symbiotic bugs in our fur, and our ancient instincts are to remove all bugs from all fur, immediately. a body covered in swarming little pests is deeply horrifying: it's viscerally dangerous to us.

so each of us see one another as disgusting corpses. and our diplomats have to talk to each other across very wide tables.

[fighting-naturalist]

Mother says not to cry.