Lyric Gravellese โฆ The Illustrious Dragons Guild โฆ written by Dogma.
( temp carrd. ) โฆ webcomic โฆ patreon
๐๐: references and discussions of child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse. mentions of disordered eating. discussions of familial alcoholism. warnings for potential self harm, suicidal ideation, gore, violence, and general sensitive material concerning mental and physical health.
BLOGROLL: @rengaki, @iunnozone
Rules below cut.
Dogma. 29, They/Them.
โโ COMMON SENSE RP ETTIQUETTE APPLIES. God-modding, extreme subjects such as rape, pedophilia or incest, and muse-killing are all completely off the table. You may be warned once, but you will not be warned twice.
โโ NO NSFW WITH MINORS! I am extremely selective when following underaged muns AND muses.
โโPLEASE SOFT OR HARDBLOCK THIS BLOG IF YOU UNFOLLOW. For whatever reason you might have I ask that, especially if we are mutuals, you softblock this blog so I do not accidentally bother you in the future. Please do not be afraid to block at any point for your comfort, for any reason. I encourage you to curate a space that makes you feel at ease.
โโ I MAY UNFOLLOW BLOGS THAT HAVE BEEN INACTIVE FOR PERIODS LONGER THAN 5 WEEKS WITHOUT NOTICE. I will periodically clean out inactive/hiatusโd blogs from my follow list but will follow you again if you resume activity and you and I still wish to interact.
โโ PLEASE DO NOT ENGAGE IN EXCESSIVE FORMATTING WHEN WRITING WITH ME. Small text ( and a low amount of double-small text ) + bold or italics is fine, but if you typically write using multiple fonts, double-small text, 25x25 icons and hard-to-read/low contrast colors all in the same reply I will probably softblock you or not follow you at all. Itโs hard for me to read on my computer and not usually accessible on mobile.
PLEASE TAG FOR ME:
Spiders
Eels
Mold / Fungus
Trypophobia ( especially patterns on skin )
Jump Scares
Disordered Eating
ALL DRAMA/DISCOURSE/VENT POSTS**Callout posts
Mun FC is Canti from FLCL.
** Seeing a flood of callout posts on my dash can set off my social anxiety and a depressive spiral to the point of potentially driving me to self-harm. I believe posts containing evidence and corroborating stories between victims about abusers in the rpc ARE important ( and I do my best to read each callout that comes across my dash ) but I need time to prepare myself emotionally and mentally before reading.
hey in case you didn't know, for reblogging ask memes and things if you go to "Show Reblog Graph" there's a button at the bottom for the link to the root post so you can go to it directly
the first law of tragedies: the end is already written and inevitable. the second law of tragedies: your actions are all your own and you can choose to get off this ride whenever you want. the third law of tragedies: we both know that you are never going to do that.
thank u for sticking with me even as I slow down in my writing and take longer. I hope 2026 is much more comfortable and easy going than this weirdo was ๐ฎโ๐จ
For a second he doesnโt even breathe. His body tenses like heโs just stepped out of battle. Or into it. A hand shoots to his chest where heโs sure he took a deep slash, then to his side, then his arms. Nothing. No gaping holes, no broken bones.ย
He exhales hard and glances at the gauze wrapped tight around him. Zangetsu. It figures. The spirit mustโve pulled him back together. Again.ย
Either that or someone healed him while he was unconscious, but thereโs no lingering foreign reishi. No one hovering over him either, which is just as well. The idea of having hands on his unconscious body has always given him the creeps.
He sits up slowly, the sterile scent finally hitting him, and his scowl deepens when he realizes where he is. Not the clean white warmth of the 4th Division, but the 12thโs cold, sanitized, metal walls.ย
His stomach turns and he feels an instant spike of discomfort. Nope. No way. โFuck this.โ Like hell heโs sticking around until Mayuri realizes heโs here. He swings his legs off the table, feet landing faintly against the tile, and snatches Zangetsu from where itโd been laid at his side. The familiar weight steadies him as he pulls his tattered shihakusho together and starts for the door, intent on slipping out before anyone notices heโs awake.
But movement catches his eye.
Across the hall, behind tempered glass, a pair of orange eyes lock onto him. Bright, burning, unblinking. The figure that holds them isnโt a Shinigami, isnโt Quincy, isnโt Hollow. Something about them makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He tells himself itโs just the unpleasantness of being watched without knowing it.ย
โโฆWho the hell are you?โ he demands, blunt, the words rougher than he intends.
But Ichigo stops short. That room isnโt like his. Itโs more cage than resting place. His brow furrows. Itโs on the tip of his tongue to ask if theyโre a prisoner, except itโs both clear they are andโฆ wrong somehow. His eyes drop to their features, mind working. โAreโฆ Are you an experiment here?โย
Woke up with such a start that Lyric can only conclude he must have fallen in the midst of battle: when someone is so immediately on guard, their body must not have processed they fell at all. It would explain the gruesome wounds he came in with, tooโโโthe kind of hemorrhaging a human hospital would have been scrambling to contain. The medicine here in the Seireitei is different, of course, and though the treatment seemed no less intensive and intrusive to keep him alive, he has pulled through nonetheless.
Lyric wonders what it's like to have so many people fuss over you so. To be the center of attention, rushed to infirmary.
They think if they bled out, people would only choose to watch, if they looked at them at all.
They're surprised he's capable of getting up off the bed so soon, but sheer force of will is a powerful thing. They think about Nnoitra calling them a coward in the sand, that they didn't have enough in them to fight to live and only to run away.
They wonder if this boy has that drive.
He approaches the doorframe of their room and Lyric flinchesโโโnot because they have been seen, but because he speaks to them. Acknowledges them at all. Lyric's throat works visibly to swallow the lump and dry throat, their teeth setting and clenching behind their closed lips. They hesitate with their tail twisting behind them, clearly averse to conversation.
โ ... ... you... could say something like that... โ
What had been an acute stare in his sleep now crumbles at his returned gaze, their head turning away to look at the floor as their hands fist in the bottom of their dull, hospital-like dressings. Lyric chews on both sides of their tongue and on the insides of their cheeks, mouth frowning and wincing at their own shadow on the floor.
