Should I say it softly?

Never fails to inspire does it? Each time a dynasty falls... Selective, private & and canon divergent Dame Nadira Vaako based along The Chronicles of Riddick movie. previously damexvaako

[atyoursiide]

missing my dame like whoa

  is...is that a thing the kids still use these days?

[ceichler]

Thandie Newton posing before the Emmys

[fatcr0w]

reasons I am currently suffering:

the way vaako closes his eyes while his wife whispers sweet, sweet treason to him. 

[atyoursiide]

ereškigal \\ erkalla

     “ your heart must be a ghost. ”

❝ PERHAPS. my soul has died many times over. only fitting that my heart follows suit. ❞

[atyoursiide]

necroiism:

notofcomfort replied to your post: .

-waifu jumps on-

OP WAIFU OMG <3

shhh i am also drunk. :3c

[labors]

am i bitter? yes. but do i try to move on and let go of past anger? well, actually, no

[atyoursiide]

❝ The truth is a matter of circumstance. ❞

til the end of the line || open

          ❝ is it? ❞

words leave in a hushed whisper like a close secret was about to be unraveled. utterly intrigued was nadira with their lady marshal. to have the other welcome the dame’s presence was an unlikely happenstance. one that no doubt added to the woman’s own sense of pride.

        ❝ then may i inquire upon your circumstance, my lady? ❞ 

[meanassmentality]

I’m a sucker for affection and someone who can’t keep their hands off of me

[d0ntdisturbthisgroove-deactivat]

Thandie Newton 

[riiddick-blog]

@atyoursiide LIKED for a starter!

HE COULDN’T STAND NECROMONGERS, EVEN AFTER spending months upon months as their fucking LEADER. DEATH OBSESSED ZEALOTS who only wanted to CONVERT and CONQUER the galaxy and go to some dumbass fucking UNDERVERSE. All of it just sounded like it was from one of those shitty Earth action films from CENTURIES ago– but yet here they were, surrounding Riddick like fucking wasps. The worst of them all being Vaako’s WIFE, Dame Vaako– the QUEEN of all BITCHES.

     “WHAT DO YOU WANT, Dame Vaako?”

[atyoursiide]

she knows she is unwanted. like the majority of the fleet, nadira is shunned away from their unexpected marshal. a breeder upon the throne of half-dead conquerors. the very notion seems like a terrible cautionary tale. yet here he is, demanding over her very presence as if it were some violation to his person

                               well, to each his own...

     ❝ can i not check upon my lord marshal? seems you’re making friends as usual... ❞

[furyaan-a]

@atyoursiide

     the serpent under’t. thinks it’s called shakespearean, one of the few lines retained he’d bothered to lend an ear to, the rest fallen to the wayside beyond fitting remains. old english, written by a man long passed, works plunged into a headlong irrelevancy to the attention of a beast lacking civility. literary scholars of age old works would be wounded.

     he doesn’t give a fuck.

     what vaako lacks in spine, nadira provides in duplicate. she fills the man with ambition, plants seeds to be sowed with devastating certainty and confidence, guides decisions with a cat-like finesse. once, riddick thought she was beautiful; he still does. but he is not blind to the toxins held beneath her nails, and in the curve of her slim smile. he doesn’t make it his business to cross her path. her husband makes that difficult, clung to him like a burr.

     “dame vaako.” he knows by now that the pair are unavoidable. “taking your husband’s place behind my back?”

[atyoursiide]

an intriguing thing; their lord marshal, this furyan. an animal wrapped in a humanoid from. a killer with little qualms. there’s a part of nadira that can respect that. though she would scarcely admit such a thing. it was something she felt a familiarity with; that almost lascivious quality carried from a time practically lost to her now. it only adds to her captivation but also her vexation.

❝ would you prefer me to be in front? perhaps grant you a better view?  ❞ the rhetorical question posed as a smile curve upon her lips.  ❝ my ambition may be great, my l o r d, but never to overpass my husband. despite what others may think. ❞

[necroiism-a]

                                              Remember your place Dame Vaako.

                                                  My place is at your side dear husband.

                                                    From here till UNDERVERSE come.

                                                               necroiism + atyoursiide

[atyoursiide]

*birthday sex plays in the background*

aaaaaayyyyy~

[atyoursiide]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU MY BAE!! ❤  ❤

[atyoursiide]

[atyoursiide]

—–  C O M E, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of HELL, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor  HEAVEN peep through the blanket of the  d a r k,

                                                         To cry “Hold, hold!”

                           selective/canon-divergent dame vaako - written by dani

[furyaan-a]

         ———- they say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep. all but the primitive side, the animal side. no wonder i’m still awake. transporting me with civilians. sounded like 40, 40-plus. heard an arab voice. some hoodoo holy man, probably on his way to new mecca. but what route? what route? i smelt a woman. sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. prospector type. free settlers. and they only take the back roads. and here’s my real problem. mr. johns… the blue-eyed devil. planning on taking me back to slam… only this time he picked a ghost lane. a long time between stops. a long time for something to go wrong…

[necroiism-a]

           @atyoursiide​

her loving touch, a surprisingly pale reflection of the always calculating handling of a NECROMONGER, was the one he permitted to get so close. to ask her aid was not only for obvious physical reason. her caress allowed the NECROMONGER a soothing moment of peace before he left their chambers to command the LEGION VAST.

❝slowly but surely, it is healing.❞ dark eyes caught a glimpse of beauty through the mirror set before him. the frown of concentration wrote itself upon dark skin. a rare delicacy.  ❝a minor slip that could of cost me, my life.❞ a wince contorted the lips of the commander.

[atyoursiide]

a slow tilt of her head as nadira weaves and brushes her husband’s hair, golden hues darting about within the task. she’ll let a hum softly flow from her lips, a touch of intrigue  hanging from the tone. 

    ❝ well you’re healing, that’s more important. ❞ her voice         melodically even, almost to a caring point. it is a stark         contrast to her more venomous air.  ❝ try not to dwell         upon the mistakes that break you, but learn from it and         have it make you stronger.  ❞