A Woman of the People

“Let’s see how well you do without me.” [Genderswapped!Drago Bludvist from HTTYD2 | 18+ RP | Multi-verse, Multi-ship | FC: Indira Varma | Tracking: ‘dragabludvist’] [POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT MAY BE PRESENT.]

[makesapples]

DRAGON RACE CHAMPION !! // ind. prv. sel. ASTRID HOFFERSON of how to train your dragon. primarily FILM-BASED. penned by KAT.

[tyrantsuggestion]

Burn everything around you.

Burn them.

Burn it all down and leave nothing left in your wake.

Do it before it hurts you.

[xprinsipessa]

draga-bludvist:

Draga doesn’t ask.

But Rosa’s probably going to tell her anyway, isn’t she?

{ ✥ } ━ Just what makes for pleasant dreams in Rosa’s mind?               “I’ll dream about… silken gowns I can smooth the fabric across my cheek with.”

[draga-bludvist]

“It hardly matters--you cannot dream unless first you sleep.”

The arm Draga has slung over Rosa twitches some, curling further around the girl’s form, pulling her ever-so-slightly closer.

Normally the warleader is loathe to sleep beside anyone, given her own sleeping habits which make a nuisance of any presence in her bed--but here, the two of them together, feels simple.  Even the questions, annoying though they might be, feel as though they belong in this state of being.

She is not entirely sure that she likes it--even less that she should tolerate it,

[draga-bludvist]

pearllheart :

There was no sight of any paintings; none at all having been produced during the week. It would have done little to alleviate the sense of listlessness that had fallen upon the princess these past few days. Recently, however, Rosalinde had taken to out lounging out an open window. And would have continued to have done so for the rest of the day if not for the interruption to her daydreaming. A familiar voice, and an established sort of entrance to the room now that she thought about it. She straightens, swiping hands down the length of her front to clean away any creases that had formed in idleness. In a flourish of skirts she turns round, hands held out expectantly before her. Until almond eyes fall on a dreadful sight close by one side. A rushed pace brings her to stand before the woman , unable to keep herself from taking a hold of Draga’s hand and turning it in examination.      “My ribbon!” What has become of it?

The hands outstretched without so much as a "hello" are expected by now.  Indeed Draga would have filled them, had it not been for the outburst.

For that is not expected.   On reflex, Draga jerks her hand out of Rosa’s prying grasp.  Her eyes narrow, teeth clacking together in agitation at being grabbed so.

"What of it?"

Unspoken goes the question of how it is still Rosa's ribbon, when the girl herself had gifted it to the warleader.  Though perhaps Rosa simply assumes that everything belongs to her.  It would explain a great deal if so.

[draga-bludvist]

@pearllheart

Draga’s return to the region comes early one morning, before the sun has even risen.  Her flagship moors in the estate’s private harbour--alone for the moment, having left the majority of her armada to rendezvous at an outpost north of here in a week’s time.  The men were eager to have some shore leave after the battle they had just fought, and Draga saw no reason to deny them; after all, there is hardly room for all of them in this harbour.

Dawn is just breaking when the warleader comes ashore.  She takes her time conferring with the Lord and Lady of the estate, making arrangements for the future; then she meets with Willem, so to provide one another with updates and news.

When at last Draga takes a moment to seek out her charge, the sun is high in the sky, already lilting toward the opposite horizon.  She enters the girl’s rooms without knocking, without pausing to announce her presence.  And tied about her hand, wrapped ‘round wrist and palm...

The ribbon hardly remains in the state in which it was gifted.  Where before it had been pristine and immaculate, now it is far less so: frayed at the ends where the knot had been pulled tight with teeth, worn across the palm from clenching a weapon day after day, stained with sweat and mud and all manner of filth.

Yet still its colour shines through, appearing stark against skin indifferent to the sun’s glare.  And though Draga does not actively attempt to draw attention to its presence, nor does she make any effort to hide it; rather, it is as though the ribbon has become a part of her hand, simply a feature of herself to be seen and accepted without question.

“Hello again, zmajica,” she says.  “Willem tells me you have behaved yourself in my absence.” Mostly, in any case.

[andrastesass]

fictional kiss things that end me

being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward

one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

pressing their foreheads together while kissing

speaking normally, then after the kiss their voice is hoarse

guys furrowing their brow when kissing passionately

staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

running their thumb over the other’s lips

when they lean forward a fraction as if to kiss the other person, then realize they shouldn’t and pull back to stop themselves

ripping the other away - “no we shouldn’t” - but when they kiss them again they moan and hold them close

one sliding their hand into the other’s hair slowly

their entire body freezing for a second when their love kisses them

accidentally being forced inches apart from each other, staring at each other’s lips, and just before they kiss someone pulls them back apart

when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

a hoarse whisper “kiss me”

then licks their lips and says “please”

[dear-indies]

Reblog if you roleplay an animated character.

We are creating a masterlist for every independent roleplayer. 

The list is here.

[draga-bludvist]

my rival: please.. we can lay down our weapons. it doesn't have to be like this. we don't need to fight. we can settle this another way. i don't want to fight

me, immediately swinging my sword: too bad i fucking want to, buddy

[justanotherrpmemeblog]

Reblog if your muse has had a near death experience.

[jarring]

me: *has feelings*

me: Pathetic. Disgusting. Won’t Let It Happen Again.

[defiantsuggestion]

Wear your scars proudly. Whatever tried to kill you failed.

[draga-bludvist]

pearllheart:

She does, though not unaffected by the command. The expression in her countenance shifts from perturbance to disbelief. She does not understand. She couldn’t, for the course of her life had never led her to being spoken to before like this. Over something so minuscule, so minute - to keep the boredom at bay for an hour or five. There is a change in her mouth, from parted lips to curving corners and a certain shininess to the eyes forewarning of the tears to come.

The shift in Rosa’s demeanor is as immediate as it is alarming, and Draga’s grip releases in something like reflex.  Her intentions from before flood back, her mind reeling around the desire to put an end to this nonsense.

Force the girl to behave.  Make her heel.  Make her obey.  Break her.

Draga does not want her zmajica broken.

With a steadying breath, the warleader takes one step backward; then another.  Any alarm which might have shown on her face is quickly replaced by cold indifference, eyes casting back to her wartable, and the pieces arranged thereupon.

“You will not touch my things again.” It is not a question. “The machinations of war might be beyond a simple girl such as yourself, but I will not tolerate your interference.”

[berserkerchief-blog]

                                    ɪ'ʟʟ ᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ᴀ ꜰᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ                                 sᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏsᴇ sɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ

                                                 ʀᴜʟᴇs | ᴅᴏssɪᴇʀ

[draga-bludvist]

pearllheart :

The princess cries out from the pain caused.      “Stop that!” The girl squirms in the attempt to escape the clasp, but in vain. Calling for Mara, or anyone else who would listen, would do no good. But what else could be done to rectify the situation?

Fingers flex, and Draga’s grip tightens.  With just the one arm there is little she can do to restrain the girl--not without causing her harm, something she has no interest in doing--so she settles for a shake, jerking Rosa once, sharply.

“Enough.” The warleader’s tone is sharp and commanding, that one word cleaving the air inside the cabin.  Later, Draga will look back at the moment, and realize it was the same tone she used when commanding her dragons; for the moment, however, the only thought in her mind is the overwhelming need to bring the girl to heel, to finally make her obey.

"Cease your struggling.  Now.”

[eret-son-of-eret-deactivated201]

@draga-bludvist

#i assume by hookfang you meant monstrous nightmare ololol 

[draga-bludvist]

[draga-bludvist]

pearllheart :

A slight shrug even Rosalinde knew wouldn’t be enough to pacify Draga’s temper .      “I’ve just been looking for something to do,” she explains as she seats herself on the edge of the bed, a doe eyed look offered. Her hands come to a fold in her lap: empty. No matter. When Draga leaves - which shouldn’t be too long - Rosalinde could have her way again.

In a few quick strides Draga crosses to the bed, seizing Rosa by her arm and hauling her to her feet.  The grip is rough, but still falls just shy of violence; the warleader bends from her considerable height, bringing her face closer to the girl’s.

“You were looking,” she corrects, “for some new way to be a thorn in my side.”

[draga-bludvist]

eret-son-of-eret :

Eret was exhausted, coated in sweat and sea water, and slightly singed, but the praise from his normally cruel Mistress almost made it all worth it. He nodded grimly in response to her question.

“We lost three men. One to the storm on our way out and two to the big Hookfang. She put up a hell of a fight, but we got her.”

Draga’s eyes turned to the dragon in question, currently being dragged aboard the flagship by the Northman’s crew.  It was certainly large, and though it was impossible to determine its temperament in its current unconscious state, it bore a wide variety of scars..  Clearly it had a habit of fighting with its fellow beasts; it was likely highly territorial.

It would have to be broken.

But that would have to wait until the creature woke.  For now, the warleader merely nodded in response to Eret’s words.  Three men lost. Though Draga was hardly the sort to care for the lives of her underlings, she would still acknowledge the loss of labour.  That, after all, was something she could see sense in.

“You will be compensated extra for their deaths,” she said--her voice utterly lacking in sympathy, or in any emotion other than cold professionalism.  She looked once more to the beasts being brought aboard; then she turned and began to walk toward her cabin, motioning for Eret to follow.