#v0 .

[lovedrain]

@aeinsof | continued.

UGH --- BLECH! This one even sounded like Twilight Sparkle!

Disgusting. The cretin was lucky he was human, otherwise she wouldn't so much as send a drone to feed off him (let alone herself).

If she had drones, that is. The thought sparked something red-hot in her thorax, and when she spoke it billowed out on the embers of a furious hiss.

"And how exactly would I be hurting myself?" She snapped, before backtracking into a more... casual tone; one appropriate for friendly teenage debate, "I mean, the only people who'd get hurt are my enemies. So it's not like I'd want their help anyways, y'know?"

[lovedrain]

[via bleedinghearth] What's this weird fucken horse. She looks like if a unicorn, a tarantula hawk, and a rotting piece of wood had the most unholy threesome known to man.

"Oi. Drag Race called. They want their apparel back."

Being caught off guard by a dragon would usually be a cause of alarm.

Usually.

But a foul mood had possessed the queen, and rather than pondering how to bolt from under his shadow, she could only think on how insulting his tone was, even if the words were meaningless noise.

Jaw clenched, she growled -- deep, and venomous. On the shrieking hum of her wings, she made her way up to his eye-level. Reasonably distanced from his snout, she glowered at him with enough hatred to strike down dragons half his size.

"- - Then tell your 'drag race' that they can have it as a reminder of my complete and total subjugation of them and ALL other creatures across the land!"

Before he could snap back, his vision was obscured by a thick web of blue-green, mucous silk. Sticky globules clung to his eyelids as the shrill buzzing of wings quickly grew fainter and fainter.

Her foul mood spat back out into the world, reason had returned to her.

[empercana]

@slyrophant / continued.

To tear a young artist from his canvas is no small feat -- and yet, wide eyes set against an awestruck expression granted his analysis his full, undivided attention. He stood slowly, unaware of the globule of glue that dripped from his brush and onto his shoe.

The fire of inspiration sparked behind his eyes when he uttered, at last:

"...Fascinating."

"Then..." he hummed, tapping the glue brush to his cheek, "like how the way pigments are affect their paints, or how the bristles of the brush affect your strokes, even the very structure of the bowl matters in the creation of the final breakfast. The bowl-maker leaves a challenge for the milk-pourer, who must work with the bowl appropriately."

He smiled.

"It's truly remarkable. All of humanity's creations are like a song, with each individual leaving their own unique note that the next person must then reply to create perfect harmony. And it is so often taken for granted... how fleeting, beauty is."

He reached over and picked the trash-bag, stuffed full of cornflakes, off of the stool where he'd left them.

"I wonder if I should crush these, then... perhaps a powder would be more appropriate for this piece."

[lovedrain]

Feeds her sugar cubes lala

[lovedrain]

« i understand. the friendzone is hard to deal with. »

FANDUB STARTER PACK.

Such irony! Such a sad, piteous attempt to insult her; diffused by ignorance! Threatened with a good time - oh, whatever would she do?

She would have laughed, had the lunch splattered across her disguise's fanciful white shirt not dulled her sense of humor. Instead, the boy's rewarded with a derisive snort.

"- -- Tch. Whatever."

"Y - you're lucky she shows you kindness, you know. Since you act like a traitor t - to humanity -" the word came out a sluggish drawl, " - and all."

'He' leaned away from the cot, one hand placed firmly on 'his' hip. 'He' snapped 'his' fingers, beckoning a guard over to 'his' side. Without so much as a glance, 'he' pointed down at the lunch tray at 'his' feet with the sort of regard you give an ant.

As the inquisitor bent down with a rag, 'he' met Ren's gaze with a spark of disdain. Crossing 'his' arms, he sneered.

"You just don't get it yet."

[lovedrain]

" Yhuck– " Xavier whispers, and pinches her nose. " yuck, yuck… ew. "

"GET -" Hooves frantically swatted away his hands, "Get - ACK - STOP IT - GET your paws off of ME, you WORM!"

Her wings were buzzing furiously at this point; an attempt to make herself bigger.

"I am a QUEEN! You will not -" SWAT. SWAT. "- treat me like some slug to poke with a STICK!"

[lovedrain]

Oaki rubs his snotty mask in her hair. " Snff… I think you should explode. "

A horrified gasp rose from the crowd of onlooking drones before she'd the chance to react. Some covered their mouths; others shielded their eyes. The particular worker who'd been pursuing Oaki immediately dropped to the floor, as if the mischievous sapling had just set off a bomb in the hive.

They only dared to back away when they were certain the Queen's gaze wasn't on them.

She was transfixed by the whelping at her hooves. With a stare so pointed she could burn a hole into Oaki's mask, she could only regard the tugging on her mane with a slack jaw. Her beautiful, wispy, silken mane - defiled with... with a brat's SNOT.

Her eye betrayed the slightest twitch...

And then, she lifted her head. She regarded him down the tip of her upturned snout with an uncharacteristic calm.

Her horn enveloped itself in green flame.

"You before I, grub."

The light was growing brighter by the second.

[lovedrain]

"two years later and you haven’t changed." hey. explodes.

200 LINES.

There it is.

A split-second fracture; the briefest moment of the pyre-light catching the skin in just a way where it shimmered like chitin. His nose was scrunched just so; chin tilted a bit too upright. His lips were pursed, taut. The specification of years in particular seemed to nearly coax it into a sneer.

Indignation didn’t fit quite right on his face. He opened his mouth to speak.

But the hungry flames jumped for the night sky, and his expression is back on the cusp of spiraling terror. Wide eyes glittered with the gold of potential, red-rimmed and puffy.

“I - it’s HARD!” he shot back instead. Fists clenched hard enough to bruise, he dared to step forward and into her space.

“As right a - as you are, as much as I want to be what you need me to be, I can’t just up and stomach… THIS!” He gestured to the cleansing fire, spewing its acrid smoke and washing them in the holy ashes of the wicked - smited. He could only bear to acknowledge it for a moment, before casting his gaze away with such furor that the locks of his hair danced like sacred ribbons in the orange glow.

He relaxed his grip.

“I… I’m not as brave as you,” he relented.

He shrunk back then, casting a sideways glance as he rubbed at his sleeve. A baby bird, retreating into its shattered eggshell. The fire’s shadows made him smaller.

He’d be so perfectly, delectably vulnerable like this.

(Your queen decides when we’re done playing this game. Not you.)