#this is olddd

[mysteryanimator]

man i miss them

[xaeorian]

golden wolf

[evermorethecrow]

Old unfinished crychu comic

L-2-R

[starschism]

TDP 7×09 where Aaravos gets whumped even more (wip I'll never finish)

He is immortal, but he is not invincible.

He bleeds just as much as the wretched dragons that drag him further, further up above the world.

Dark spots float and swim in his vision as the air is filled with the ringing of his ears and the flaps of their wings. He’s aware of the blood, ever dripping and no doubt smeared across his face, tasting of copper, of the earth, of mortality.

Yes, he thinks as he senses the air getting thinner, this too is of no matter.

He is helpless, he is wounded, but he is alive.

His nerves scream when the air brushes against his now bloodied stump of a horn. The claws of the dragons are uncaring as they dig in and pierce his arms, the pain searing and oh-so-delicious as he lets out a small gasp. He feels his stars flicker, dimming as they grow weak. The pain will never amount to what they took from him that day, but it is nevertheless grounding and welcomed. Better overwhelming pain than centuries of isolation, better sensation than monotony, better sanguine blood than golden ichor. They could pin him down and turn him into a spectacle for all to see, taking him apart piece by piece as they watch him scream and grovel no better than a human, but they won’t, for they both know the price that comes with killing a star, fallen or not.

They could restrain his limbs, but they could not restrain his words. He was always eager to get the last word in, even now as he lifts his head to meet their gazes, dried blood cracking across skin as his lips twitch into another one of his sickly, rapturous smiles. The Dragon Queen snarls as she’s forced to listen to his next words, no matter how badly she longs to cut out that tongue of his.

“And what will,” his voice comes out hoarse and exhaustion-laden, though it does nothing to subdue the sardonic pleasure he takes in the dragons’ annoyance, “your sacrifices buy?”

His legs dangle in the air. They are above the clouds, the sun’s heat bearing down on the three of them. They could drop him at any time, reduce him to a splattered mess of blood and flesh (he is reminded of the sight of the dark mage he once served two years ago, at the base of the spire, reduced to scattered pieces and fragmented bone—a thrill runs through him), but they won’t. Their very self-righteousness stops them, the irony giving way to a laugh that escapes him as he continues his final testament.

“A mere moment of peace?” He is reminded of the claws as they burrow even deeper into his flesh, reaching the bone as he hisses. He smiles even wider in reply—teeth stained red, eyes distant and unfocused. He stopped caring about dignity and appearance long ago; they had seen him in far worse states than this. “Before I return to a world without you? A world without Archdragons?”

[forcewound]

actually yeah i'll put this here hello kotor 2 community. you know what this is about

Sensations seep sluggishly in and out of Atton’s awareness, like waking up to the cold sting of a duracrete floor pressed against his cheek after coming off a bender. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The blistering rake of Sion’s saber across his skin. Skull cracked against a stone pillar with his guts spilling out into his hands, and the only thought on his mind was that if the sith was here wailing on him, at least that meant he was far enough away from her. The agony has subsided now and all he’s left with is a numb, sunken state. Probably because he’s crossed the threshold of his tolerance for pain and is beginning to slip consciousness. It’s dark here, suspending.  Must be dying, he thinks, and it’s a resigned sort of observation, too foggy and lethargic to do anything about it, so all that’s left to do is give in. The part of him that riots against death, the part that gnashes teeth and claws his way back whenever he drops in battle has him mustering for a second wind. Get back up, Jaq. She still needs you, get back up. But the severity of his wounds wills out. And death has hounded him for so long he thinks it’s time he let it claim him . living had gotten stale and he was tired. Tired of all the war, all the killing, all the running. Now he’s weightless and none of that matters. Now he’s inconsequential. He can’t move or see. Can’t feel much of anything at all save for the heartbeat drumming against his chest, losing its rhythm, stuttering, faltering. He counts it like he counts the ticks in the power coils, to distract his mind from the inevitable.  And then, the sound of her voice.  The panic in her inflection calling for a stem to the bleeding, the shape of her words cutting through near oblivion. There’s the familiar oscillation of her energy, distant, at the edge of his perception like a long forgotten memory. She pulls him back from the edge and he thinks his body is being leveraged by someone, pressure at his chest, then his head. He tries to muster her name, a sound, verbalize anything. But his mouth chokes uselessly around a mouthful of blood and his thoughts are too muddled to project through the force. Instead , he uses his last vestige of energy to bat at empty air until his hand finds her arm. Fingers slip against her skin, wet and raw and red, and he gains purchase enough to circle her wrist. Holds tight with a white knuckle grip unassuming for a dying man, but he needs the assurance that she’s here. Solidly, tangibly here and alive. He grips until the siren call of his heavy lids is too strong to resist and then sinks away without much care if he wakes up again or not. So long as she survives, it doesn’t matter if he does.

[13motel]

dear ghost... love, a poet 12.5.21.

[heartassault]

@slaeyers​   said  :    👫! gimme for nemi and giyuu!!

  - they actually eat together often, although often the conversation isn’t too exciting, it still helps them to get closer and understand each other better. 

- sanemi actually enjoys giyuu’s presence , even relaxing around him. 

- although giyuu is a little awkward, he does his best with nemi. it doesn’t take long for nemi to open up to the other though which is rare. 

- sanemi especially enjoys his hair to be played with by giyuu.

bonus.   sanemi showed giyuu his beetle who he calls flora. 

[fujipixels]

stanson’s photography