#DRACONISA

[indirecticn]

@draconisa asked: ❝ what do you want of me? ❞

the question! the one always asked at some point when some dreadful thing in the pit of the stomach twisted and knotted too tightly and gave them heed to a terrifying feeling of fear.

or indigestion, if you were Peter Quill after eating lunch at a near by Taco Bell in his new midgardian home as of late.

or... or perhaps not fear, here, Loki thought with an appraising look given the the whole of the small, but frightening fierce, slip of a girl addressing him.

"you are much bigger than yourself, you know. it's reductive to think you mean 'me' as if you don't represent so much more beyond that. unless.. you think i am here just for you?"

he could be kinder, he supposed. he truly held no real ill-will for the little dragon of a girl, but old habits die hard. something about his very own rhetoric pained him, only the tiniest bit like being stung by a bee.

"but, considering this is effectively your kingdom," he gestured widely, the (leased?) office looking pathetic compared to the ones of those who bought his action. "i suppose you are right. it is you. do you need my supervisor's number, perhaps?"

[miidnighters]

@draconisa sent 📷 for an instagram edit featuring your muse [Isaac + Dany ]

[halofcrged]

@draconisa gets a starter.

He'd gotten an earful from Parangosky that might've left any other man's ears ringing when she'd gotten the report (the short version) of the events that had gone down on Ebrion -- he'd managed to resist the urge to say most of what he had on the tip of his tongue about the rescue mission and the not-so-maiden-in-distress he specifically had been sent to retrieve in the scant minutes they'd had to clear out before the Covenant's impending bombardment. Pain in the ass had come to mind, for one. He'd made it clear to the Admiral that the deceptively wisp of a woman had left him no choice but to sedate her for her safety and his ... which he was sure would give a few of the officers that would review the report a chortle, but given how she had refused to stop fighting him and was impeding her retrieval and impeding him from being able to concentrate on the fight, it was true enough. They could feel free to pan through his suit's mission footage for themselves if they weren't willing to take his word for it.

They were still near a day's out from Reach in slipstream. The marines on board and aid workers that were on board for such things had made the couple hundred survivors settled in as best they could, seen to their medical care, gotten their information, got them into the temporary bunks that had been set up in the cargo bays and done what they could to help them cope. As if any of them were truly prepared to cope. He'd seen this a dozen times or more and it still left a sour taste in the back of his throat. Entire worlds, with millions, sometimes billions of lives, eradicated in the span of minutes while he and his people could do nothing else but watch. On the ground, on the Covenant ships, he and the other Spartans were a devastating force.

In the sky? UNSC ships needed three, four to one against a Covenant ship to stand a chance of winning, and never without catastrophic loss.

Aching hands ran through the faucet in the washroom of his quarters, splashing cold water onto his face, swiping it across the back of his neck, staring at his own reflection for a long moment. Whatever pensive thoughts he had were interrupted by the soft chirp that announced Cortana's 'tangible' presence in the room. "Master Chief, Ms. Targaryen is regaining consciousness," she announced, and John was fairly certain he could hear a hint of judgment in her words. "You wished to be informed," she announced.

"Thanks, Cortana." It was a begrudging statement of gratitude. He didn't particularly want to go face the silver haired demon but he suspected if he didn't take what lumps she felt like doling out now, he'd face worse ones from his superiors later.

It only took a few minutes for him to cross through the ship to the med bay, a brief nod given to the staff as he crossed with his long strides to the private room that the woman had been put into upon arrival. He could hear the occupants of the room before he saw them.

She looked whole, and healthy enough, he noted, stepping in, having changed into his casual fatigues once they'd entered slip stream - he wondered if she'd still recognize him even though she hadn't seen his face beneath his armor. "Glad to see you're doing well, ma'am," he interjected, at the first available moment.

[feilien]

@draconisa  said: “" i didn't know where else to go... "” {♚ x Meme I am too lazy to find right now || Accepting x}

 It was somewhat late, and Matt had only just taken a break from studying to cook himself something to eat, lest he waste away after not eating for a few hours. He’d hardly gotten any of his prep done, when there’d been a knock on his door. Not necessarily an alarming thing in and of itself, but despite a couple of years having passed, he still remained paranoid for fear of being found. And he simply wasn’t expecting anyone, let alone at this time.

 For a moment, he considered ignoring it. Perhaps someone had put in the wrong apartment number for a delivery? But what if that wasn’t the case, and any second someone was about to kick in the door with him woefully underprepared. So he tightened his grip around the knife still in his hand, and slowly, warily, made his way over to the door.

 A quick look through the peephole, however, had his whole body relax and him sigh in relief. No delivery person, and no thugs out to get him. But then alarm bells went off yet again, and he quickly opened the door. “Daenerys? What— Is everything alright?”

 " i didn't know where else to go... "

 There was no hesitation as he stepped aside, both confused and worried. “Come in. What’s wrong?”

[thesellsword]

“Were you me, would you wager the lives of all those in your care on the word of a sellsword?” / @draconisa

"no," he admits honestly. "i wouldn't trust me one fucking bit, but i speaks the godshonest truth about this. listen, it's between cersei lannister and a fucking dragon... my gold's on the dragon." so maybe he's trying to switch sides? what's wrong with that? bronn can't enjoy life if he's been burned to death by a dragon. he likes living, and he intends to live a life of luxury when this is all over... so getting with the dragon queen is his best option. again, she has a dragon. "she won't be honoring any truces. she sent me here to assassinate the lot of you. both lannister brothers, and you, if i could get the shot. but... i think the lannister reign of king's landin' has gone on long enough, don't you?"

[factiousfcrged]

@draconisa / continued from [x]

It has never been said that Daenerys Targaryen is a good patient, and the reason for that is twofold: harm rarely comes to her person, and when it does, she handles it poorly. Like a wounded hunting cat, she seeks to hide herself away — analyzing the damage, licking her wounds, none the wiser to her misery. This isn’t going to be one of those times. For one thing, her erstwhile savior won’t let her; more importantly, she physically can’t. “I’m not — moving, it just—” hurts, she thinks, catching the word behind clenched teeth ( far be it for her to acknowledge weakness ). But it was only fair, given that the skin of her thigh’s opened up: it had caught on some bit of metal she hadn’t seen, tearing like so much tissue paper as it shredded through the skin. Dany isn’t afraid of blood. She isn’t even very squeamish, but there’s something decidedly different about it when it’s your flesh ripped apart, scarlet staining everything. Altogether, she’s not feeling very well. Leans back, exhaling through her nose in a meditative attempt at stillness. Her goddamn head is reeling. “Had my mag boots turned on.” Almost delirious, she’s half joking, but the truth lingers beneath. If the shoes hadn’t kept her on her feet, she would’ve hit something far more delicate as she inevitably toppled forward — like her heart, for instance.

"Yeah, you did," Amos agrees, which is about the closest he gets in this particular scenario to 'I told you so'. His tone is just this side of annoyed, though maybe it's more at himself than her -- he should've known better than to give the diminutive woman hard liquor, especially when she'd seemed so intent on trying to keep up with him ... and that was a feat that even Bobbie had a time doing. He'd figured here on the ship, the worst that might happen was she woke up with a killer hangover or upchucked in his machine shop which, while unpleasant, would've hardly been the worst mess he'd had to deal with on the Roci.

Clearly, though, he'd miscalculated her ability to get herself into trouble. He ripped open one of the pressure packs from the first aid kit that he'd recovered from under his work bench, pressing it onto either side of the gash and giving it the seconds it needed to clench into place - it would serve as a temporary measure to make sure she didn't bleed out before he could get her to the medbay. He took the time to toss the wrapping into the recycler and cork, and shove the bottle and the glasses they'd been drinking out of into one of the cabinets. Habit, hard to break, stow the loose items, then and there.

"Come on, Princess, release those mag locks," he instructed, waiting just long enough for her to do so before he scooped her up, pretty effortlessly, at knee and shoulders to carry her towards the medbay and the waiting auto doc. He'd have to come deal with the blood later. "Get you patched up and who knows, you might even have your first battle scar to show for it."

[kingcenred]

@draconisa sent a tipsy ask Another night, another party. Fundraisers, dinners, corporate events: the blissful nights of her calendar that remain free are few and far between, peppered between days so busy that she hardly had time to breathe. It’s not like her to indulge at these things — at least, not past the ceremonious glass or two — but the one she’s sipping is Number Three, and it’s woefully undiluted by food. (She should have eaten lunch.) Still, it’s nice. Her thoughts are quiet, smile bright, unburdened by the constant thread of worries that usually played through her mind. Unburdened, too, by any awareness in her surroundings: she turns and stumbles directly into a man that she hadn’t even realized was there, and her Pinot Grigio laps out of her glass, spilling out onto his suit. She freezes. The immediate, unbidden urge to laugh is stopped by a hand pressed to her lips, wide eyes lifting now to his. “Oh, I’m — oh.” Do not smile. “I’m so sorry, really.”

"Fuck," the King stepped backwards too late, and his pristine white shirt was splattered with wine. Marvellous. He's going to smell like an alcoholic for the rest of the evening. "Yeah, you seem really sorry," he muttered, his gaze raising from his shirt to meet the eyes of the clumsy woman in front of him.

His annoyance abated somewhat as he saw how beautiful she was; he always did have a weakness for a pretty face. "It's fine," he assured her, "I've got plenty more shirts."

[wranglens]

explaining  what  he  does  for  a  living  isn’t  simple  .      what  to  include  and  what  not  to  include  about  such  a  fragmented  professional  life    ��   in  the  end  ,      he  always  opts  for  the  tornado  wranglers  .        ❝        a  few  friends  and  i  ,      we  go  out  and  we  chase  storms  .      and  i  mean  ,      like  ,      the  dangerous  kind  .      but we're , like , professionals at it  .        ❞

@draconisa  .      ❝    that's  not  the  worst  thing  i've  ever  heard  ,      but  it's  certainly  up  there  .    ❞

a  cocky  little  smirk  .        ❝        it’s  not  everyone’s  cup  of  tea  .      i’ve  found  four  of  them  who  happen  to  like  it  as  much  as  i  do  .        ❞        and  he’s  kept  each  and  every  one  of  them  close  .      no  way  in  hell  he  missed  the  opportunities  .

and  now    …    well  ,      now  he’s  turning  to  dany  with  a  proud  gleam  in  his  eye  and  a  hand  at  his  waist  .        ❝        turns  out  ,      a  lot  of  people  in  the  world  are  willing  to  watch  these  stunts  .      i  wouldn’t  call  us  famous  .      maybe  just  locally  .        ❞

╰ ゜&. THAT'S WHIRRED UP .  /  𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 .

[kxllerblond]

‘ i’m worth a small fortune. ’

❝ And If I wanted to have a financial dick-measuring contest, I'd just have to step a single toe into any office in the Financial District in Manhattan. I hear all about worth and fortunes and yachts and jets and vacay homes from every pretentious trader-stock-crypto-finance bro that has a tongue to waggle at me and pitiful existence they feel the need supplement and compensate for with ego. ❞

It was all so tiredly rambled off, his tongue just barely dipping into any real inflection. He leveled her with a calm but insistent gaze.

❝ I hear talks of money day in an day out. It doesn't impress me, it does not hold my attention. You're not like them, or so I hope. So, please, for the love of god-—do not rattle off the same bullshit they do. You want to talk money? Fuck what you have, tell me what you're doing with it. ❞

[indirecticn]

@draconisa

🐝  *  ―  send 🎵 or ( ‘SHUFFLE’ ) for me to randomize my playlist and write a starter that either uses the lyrics or is otherwise inspired by the song in some way.

[Specifically using my Loki playlist: VARIANTS on spotify]

No Rest for the Wicked - Lykke Li

"where have you gone?"

loki's voice rumbles in his chest, a deep bass that she might be able to feel with her back flush to his chest. he has taught her this much, at least, whether she utilizes the gift is another thing entirely.

but that's what these sessions are for, aren't they? for him to test the limits of what her ever growing gift seems to consume and burn through day after day.

it's getting to the point where he isn't sure if he will be able to keep up with her hunger for more knowledge. he needs to slow her down, not let the flame die completely but it can't rage always or she will be burnt down to the quick and what use is she then?

his hand curls around her throat, very gently at first, and then slowly fingers tightening. not to choke, but to hold her still and firm, to feel the way her voice rises from within.

"come back, you're going too far from me, darling," he coaxes against the shell of her ear.

[miidnighters]

@draconisa | *blows kiss*

He is, in a word, fretting.

A month ago, it had seemed like a no-brainer to pick up the phone and ask Dany to accompany him - platonically, of course, but if anyone (like his mother) were to assume they were dating, maybe it would be best to just go with it. She'd agreed, readily, and with a bit of shuffling from her little assistant (seriously, were all women in New York City tiny?) made sure her schedule would be free to fly down for the gala.

The gala was a black tie affair - Issac's mother was chairwoman to a charity for battered women, and the gala was their main fundraising event of the year. In all the years previous, he had attended alone (and had not, thus far, thought to tell Dany that her presence might cause a bit of commotion).

Now, though, he stood in the living room of the farmhouse (because where else was he going to have her stay, especially if he wanted people to assume they were dating). He'd knocked lightly on the spare room door, but didn't want to rush Dany if she was still getting ready. Absently, Isaac tugs at the neck of his tuxedo, a bundle of flowers cut from the garden were held in his other hand - just because he didn't need to go pick her up didn't mean he couldn't still be a gentleman.

[untremaine]

@draconisa liked for a starter in vampire verse

The evening's program is a selection of works by Janáček. The woman sitting next to her could be mistaken for delicate--delicate, like a silver bell, like the gentlest chime. But she is more like the full-throated voice of the violin, sometimes soaring, sometimes deep, and Margarethe can smell her, beneath the expensive perfume. She knows who she is, of course. She's surprised Daenerys doesn't have a box seat.

She leans closer. Her nose nearly touches the delicate shell of the girl's ear. Her voice is only for herself and Dany. "Do you know the story of this piece?" she murmurs. "It's named after a work by Tolstoy. A man who kills his wife in a jealous rage. It's about sex and blood. Listen." And then, as if in answer to the silver music of Daenerys' beauty, the musicians play; the opening notes soar with an agonized, orgasmic cry. She could easily reach over and rest a hand on the silk of the young woman's thigh, but doesn't.

[b-sozoku]

unlike you, i'm a professional.

WIPING THE SWEAT OFF HIS BROW, he steals a glance at HER. DARK BROWN eyes meet her own VIOLET pair, eyeing her with MILD interest. Remaining silent, he chooses to OBSERVE her rather than HASTILY engage in a conversation. She doesn’t seem like MUCH based on her appearance. She is well-dressed, and clean-looking. He’ll GIVE her that. Still, his IMMEDIATE thought is that she wouldn’t be ANYTHING more than that — a PRETTY THING. She QUICKLY proves him WRONG when she throws the insult in his face. GUARDED around a stranger, she didn’t HESITATE to question his QUALIFICATIONS for the task at hand. 

HE STALKS OVER TO HER SIDE, a smirk creeping onto his face. His CALLOUSED hand brushes against the hood of her CAR, feeling the SMOOTH surface underneath his fingertips. “   Is that so?   ” he asks, amusement EVIDENT in his voice. Even if meant as an OFFENSE, he took the JAB at his capabilities without making a FUSS. PROUD of the work that he does, he's usually blinded by anger when his COMPETENCE is doubted. However, he finds her claim to be ENTERTAINING — a RARE exception.

 “   AND how exactly am I any less professional than you, doll?   ” he inquires, leaning his elbow on top of the hood.  “    Ya know, pretty clothes and a bossy attitude don’t make ya a professional either. You need to be a lot more than that,   ” he adds resting his chin on top of his hand. “    So, still need my help or did you change your mind?   ” 

[feilien]

{♚ x @draconisa x}

Continued from here

 Getting woken up by a fire alarm at 3 in the morning sucked, regardless of how old you were. So Matt could more than emphasize with the child who was so intent on making its grief known to anyone who would listen — or was forced to listen, anyway. Hell, if it wasn’t frowned upon, he might very well be doing the same. He hardly got enough sleep as it was, even without a fire alarm waking him just as he’d finally managed to fall asleep.

 Why, exactly, he felt the need to offer his help, however, Matt wasn’t too sure. Although he wasn’t unfamiliar with the pair, they’d never spoken before. There’d been some interactions through their windows that happened to face each other, especially with the kid, but that was as far as it had gone. He didn’t even know their names. So there was a moment in which he wondered if she’d take offense to his offer, or perhaps would feel the need to grow defensive.

 Fortunately, neither seemed to be the case and he took the blanket from her when offered. “Of course.” But then he had an idea that might just work to improve the kid’s mood. Kneeling down, he tucked the blanket beneath one arm, while his other hand disappeared in the pocket of his jacket for moment. “Hey, kid. Look what I just found.” When he pulled his hand back out of his pocket, he held a piece of candy between his fingers. Good thing he always carried some on him. “You want it?” Before handing it off, however, he looked up at the girl. “If that’s alright with you, of course. I know it’s the middle of the night and all.”

[redemn]

he's  made  off  ,      but  not  made  far  enough  away  ,      with  a  good  haul  this  time  around  .      but  he  was  sloppy  about  it  ,      as  evident  by  the  way  he's  standing  face-to-chest      (  the  top  of  he  head  barely  comes  up  to  his  shoulder  )      now  with  the  woman  he's  stolen  from  .        ❝        you're  real  bold  ,      comin'  up  to  me  when  there  ain't  nothin'  stoppin'  me  from  drawin'  .      ain't  you  supposed  to  be  scared  ?        ❞        he  knows  :      he's  the  one  parents  tell  their  children  stories  about  so  they  keep  their  toes  beneath  the  covers  .

@draconisa . ❝ who says i’m afraid of you? ❞ teehee :3

❝        i  say  ,      ma'am  .      there's  lots'o  things  i  say  .      and  in  my  world  ,      what  i  say  goes  .        ❞        not  most  of  the  time  .      this  is  a  bluff  for  the  history  books  ,      yet  here  he  stands  regardless  ,      vest  pockets  stuff  with  the  sizeable  amount  of  petty  cash  he'd  managed  to  swipe  from  the  small  safe  in  her  home  .      he  should  have  figured  he'd  be  caught  quick  .      but  those  with  valuables  to  spare  don't  belong  in  a  world  like  this  .      they're  prone  to  straying  eyes  .      like  arthur's  .

he  tilts  his  chin  down  in  mock  courtesy  ,      reaching  up  to  tip  his  dark  hat  .        ❝        that  all  you  got  to  say  to  me  ?      better  take  my  leave  now  ,      ma'am  .      you  ain't  gon'  miss  it  ,      i  can  already  tell you live a real comfortable life  .      save  us  both  the  time  if  y'just  turn  'round  and  look  the  other  way  .      i'll  be  outta  your  hair  soon  .        ❞

╰ ゜TLOZ : TP STARTERS.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

[freezegirl]

❝ don’t try to change the subject. ❞

invincible ↪ @draconisa

"it's supposed to stay a secret!" khione pouts. it's not much of a secret anymore now, so she may as well come clean. "i mean, it was supposed to be a secret present. look, it's a little you, and a little me. made of ice. and you're holding little flames, too. i was gonna give you a dragon at first but the design of that didn't pan out the way i wanted. i still like the way this sculpture turned out, though."