MY BODY IS ROTTING

[ozgog]

🕯️ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔡 𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔢 ༺☆༻ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔶𝔯 𝔖𝔢𝔯𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔱 🕯️

⚔️ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ⟡ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ⟡ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ⟡ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟs ᴇxᴄʟᴜsɪᴠᴇ ⚔️

ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ & ʟᴏʀᴇ ғɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ ᴏғ ɢʀʀᴍ's ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ғɪʀᴇ. various aus for various eras. defaults to hotd. dead dove do not eat. miska. 33. trans. i prefer to interact with my age group or those above the age of 25. click for palestine. donate to sudan. help the congo. donate to support delaney protesters. donate to help minnesotans.

⚔︎ an independent exploration of the trans identity within the medieval, the traumas of self discovery, the curse of the dragon bond, transformation through the death of the ego, sexuality, the pursuit of happiness in the face of annihilation, and the scion's burden. the writer recognizes themes such as dark fantasy, cosmic horror, megalophobia, body horror, and the uncanny valley effect. much of the content here is brought together by personal interpretations, personal experiences as a gender nonconforming person, global folklore, and historical influences. disturbing things will happen here. miraculous things will happen here. follow at your own discretion. if you are pro isreali, maga, pro ai, pro ice, or conservative leaning at any capacity, you already know what it is. ⚔︎

🫐 INFO . ASOIAF . THE TIDES . MODERN. STATS . OZGOG . HC 🫐

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FLYING ALONGSIDE: PUTREFACEREM 🪨 IORVES 🪨 RHAEYAR 🪨 HALFGIGAS 🪨 NTRGYN 🪨 JOYUEX

[ozgog]

i was afraid i was going to have a harder time coming back into writing than i did as if writing hasn't been my comfort food for my entire life lmao if you enjoy discord writing i am also doing that as well for more low pressure interactions <3

[ozgog]

my headcanon is that turstin can get away with anything around men because she's beautiful and men will do anything to partake in the male rituals with a beautiful "man"

[clawmarks]

Journal of decorative art - 1881 - via Internet Archive

[ozgog]

Also no munday but I'll show you one of my surviving pictures of my heart horse that I raised from birth

his name was dakota we owned both his mama and his daddy, max and blue. the moment that little baby was born, he was my best friend. blue was an angel sent from above and would never hurt a fly (except deer she shoulda been a cutting horse they'd get in her pasture and she wouldn't let them out again LMAO) and max was a reputed man killer and horse killer (long story). he hated everything but me and his mama, and his pasture mates; i even saw him chase and attack bees. i'd go riding my bike around the pasture so we could go fast together. he'd follow me and my horse around when he was an itty bitty baby while trail riding and stir up all kinds of trouble. when i'd be coming home frome school it wouldn't be uncommon to hear the bus driver holler out "your horse is on the porch again!" and sure enough there he'd be up the steps, on the porch standing in front of the door waiting for me. we used to let the horses free roam and he'd come by when my window would be open, stick his head through and just hang out. i taught him everything he knew up until it came time to put a saddle on him, and my guardian put him up for sale. we tracked him down after we had to sell him and the rest of the horses a few years later but lost the trail eventually (i think he died and my guardian was just trying to spare my feelings, it's one of those things where you just know) at a boarding stable that did horse riding lessons for little kids. according to them he just hated the adults and wanted nothing to do with them. but the kids he adored. he was great with them apparently, and would let them crawl all over him. that's my boy :') if ii see anybody when i die i hope it's him.

[ozgog]

i was afraid i was going to have a harder time coming back into writing than i did as if writing hasn't been my comfort food for my entire life lmao if you enjoy discord writing i am also doing that as well for more low pressure interactions <3

[ozgog]

would ozgog be a good mom be honest

yes of course she loves her children

she will eat those babies she's gonna eat those poor babies

miska button

Remaining time: 5 hours 41 minutes

[ozgog]

when you're feeling blue,and alone just know ozgog would never think twice about mauling you. she'd go for you first in every universe <3

[ozgog]

i know we've already discussed that if ozgog were to have lain any clutches that had surviving offspring, it's unlikely that because of her descent from dragons affected largely by the meteor and the oily black stone (much in the same way that radiation exists generation after generation after the initial exposure) that they would survive into adulthood-but i am thinking of those that maybe did, and are still back at sothoryos carrying ozgog's terrifying legacy into the future

[bonfires-n-hares]

lamblittle

[lyonelb]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀" mm. man of the city. man of london. " he says, the polished cadences of the southern english gentility cleaved to his speech. ever abroad for stage and theatre lyonel is as of late, but owes this visit to wedding of an acquaintance of his late father's, a woman whom he can scarce recall from the scantest of encounters in his childhood. and had never much relished the crossing the pond to the great america, lyonel had, but relishing he most certainly is the farmer, or the horse-trainer, or the cattle-hand, bashful beneath the gaze of gold and with fingers kept fast upon her labour. it is she and her like who make these travels just about bearable, lyonel reckons, with the promises of sex and whatever fiery liquors this vast and restless land might pour forth to him in welcome.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he watches her, smoke curling from his knuckles. " suppose you've never been? " and drifts nearer in unhurried steps, braces a hip against the tailgate's edge, looks down upon the foreigner stooped over her labour of emptied buckets. her life and lot is not one lyonel covets, for he's lived fully and well at times and appallingly at others, nor do cattle, nor trucks, nor hay exert upon him any pull at all; but free she is, and lovely as a mare in open pasture and he, a stag's head mounted upon a lacquered wall. " you'd hate it, i reckon. full of posh cunts, like me. " he muses, cocks his head and mellow and taunting is the voice unfurling forth from his breast, a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth. " although i've heard there's a charm to me, y'know. "

[ozgog]

' 𝔒nce. ' he's closer now. the grab she makes for the last of the feed buckets she'd washed out escapes her, feeding into the flush she feels amassing upon her nose. she'll blame it on the cigarette, the smoke that wafts over her eyes and cinches tight the pinch of her crow's feet. too old, and too busy for that anyway she tells herself, finding purchase on her second reach. the thick plastic drags with tinny clamor, heavy and stubborn, over the pea graveling concrete, long overdue it's repaving. ' when i was young. we didn't do much sight seeing, wasn't that sort of trip. ' a strange place to find oneself performing in the western circuit for cutting horses, even stranger to meet so many men who looked the part, yet sounded closer to monty python than they did rooster cogburn. ' is that what you've heard. ' and ah, he affirms for her what she has suspected since he had first moseyed his way towards her trailer amid the predawn mists, dewy with the unrelenting humidity of this god forsaken place, the rich dark of his coiling curls vying against the contention of his sugary gaze. the smile was worse. she'd want for it to be anything other than what she spied at the cut of an upward glance from where she squats below. he is close. closer than she'd initially thought. she really ought to stand up. ' didn't have much time to meet many posh cunts. i suppose i wouldn't know when one was being charming, or was giving me lip. ' another glance spared towards the front of the trailer; the tack room door was still propped open, awaiting her return. and beyond that, the lot-still empty. ' then again i ain't never been good at telling the difference either way. '

[ozgog]

𝔗his place felt profane. there loomed a castigation in the loud quiet of the shores still somehow scarred sooty by balefire long past, made by watery dead. every step inward felt made with imposition, footfalls scoured upon the blackened stones-the pickled eyes of those still entombed within the metal malformations watching from beneath the seafoam, brimming with portents she dare not give face.

behind the raise of tall, jagged basalt teeth there loom the crooked masts of titanous ships reimagined, now crypts to those unsalvageable. at her shoulder, mordú too loomed-for this, she was glad. the shadows that played among rock and stone seemed less comprised of charring fingers in their kept company, the echo of the tide's swell lapping at the strange steel corpses less an accusation than the way of the sea. still, the tongue laying in her mouth is thick, her body unwilling to round the crags jutting from the sand, it's seagrass. it is the shame of her failures that torments her so. nothing more. ' what know you of the dead, mordú. are they made vengeful, or are they just made free to be. ''

@putrefacerem

[ozgog]

i think i finally have the concepts of the wymond war fleets put together so that it makes more sense as to how ozgog was able to melt them to the seabed of shores woe, especially now that it's becoming much clearer where house lhoqorys was centralized in terms of it's origins within essos (or at the very least where they'd traversed, who they traded with, and who they employed), especially now that i've made the realization that the crystal blade was forged by qohorik blacksmiths. i like the idea of the wymond fleet having had been made out of the same material:

Qohorik forges are considered to have no equal. The armor they create is seen as superior to the armor made in Westeros. They are capable of infusing a deep color into the metal with beautiful results. - a wiki of ice and fire

i dont think it's too much to suggest that they might have, in a time long since passed long before korinda had came to valyria, had commissioned war ships to be made by qohorik steelers made entirely out of this high quality metal? it's amazing to think of the circumstances that might have lead to the necessitation of such a thing. they'd likely been titans of their day upon the seas, durable against canonfire, impenetrable by arrow volleys, the ramming of wooden ships! i dont think that it was in so many words a fatal flaw designing these ships this way, if anything it might have been more strategic- wood ignites much faster than metal does after all, and if they went willingly into the folds of valyrian rule, it would also stand to presume that dragon fire wasn't ever really a big concern; what's more we dont truly know the sheer magnitude of these fleets. they could have been supplying the dragonlords with these warships for all we know. we also dont know how many of these she brought back, and how much made up the wymond fleets. i imagine retaining a pleasant relationship with the targaryens continued to bolster this idea that dragonflame wasn't ever a concern. no wonder it had been so catastrophic when ozgog unleashed her fury upon shores woe. i'm still hemming and hawing with those numbers, i probably will be for a while to be honest. the only concrete number i have on what qohorik steel ships there were, are what had been destroyed in ozgog's assault-roughly fifty to sixty ships had been lost.

[blacknoch]

it is the blade that was left by Korinda Lhoqorys unto her son-in-law Morcant Wymond, the father of Thomas Wymond and grandsire to the current Lady of the Noch - Turstin Wymond. it among what remained of her great family's wealth, is the only survivor of a bygone era full of cataclysm, with a countenance that is both strange, and fearsome. what history, what blood it has sown, and those to have known it, has disintegrated much like her bones.

the blade is dense, yet lightweight. neither glossy, nor without sheen. it is a difficult discernment as to whether or not it is somewhat translucent beneath the glint of the sun or if it is iridescent, a metal or of stern gem. beneath the finger the blade is coarse but to the eye it deceives with seemingly sleek forge work. it is no bauble. the crystal blade at the handguard is larger than a man's palm, and tapers out at approximately eight feet. has been known to puncture steel and stone with buttery ease. was broken into three pieces at the clash of Turstin Wymond against the she - dragon Ozgog deep in the bowels of her cliffside caves when struck against her black teeth, where there the Lady of the Noch was claimed. attempts to make the blade whole once more are underway.

[ozgog]

"Qohorik artisans have perfected the ability of infusing deep colors into their metalwork"

[maereor]

the question of when foals sprout teeth settles at the tip of victor's tongue , but remains there , bitten back by assumption that it's a stupid question. one he ought already know , or should somehow be obvious to one with no equine experience. instead , a soft smile , the waterskin offered with one hand as the other drifts for a pet. ❛ she can try , if she'd like. ———hello there , ❜ cooed at the babe , eyes soft with wonder , ❛ does she have a name ? ❜ @ozgog

[ozgog]

ℌow sugary the little wicker, the cottony little muzzle seeking the nipple of the skin with urgency-for the delicate foal knew well the smell of its faux mother, the warm mare's milk to nourish her. never mind the awe of strangers, she was hungry!

' hold firm. she is strong. ' turstin takes gently his hands, raises them just so, then leaves him to it. they could be difficult animals. willful, and often thralls to their baser nature. but ah, she thinks-how splendid it was when they loved you. ' no. ' a smile of the lady's own. ' she has only seen a handful of moon's turns. perhaps you know one to suit her, hm? '

[ozgog]

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