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{ooc} I know I haven’t been the most active here but I’m going to have to go on an official hiatus. Sorry about that.

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{ooc} I have a few big posts/posts w/ new people I need to get to but my mood has been in a bad place and instead of getting better it’s been wildly fluctuating due to the 7.3 trailer. So I’m going to try and work on smaller posts and ones I’m more familiar with just ‘cause they’re easier for me to tackle and try to work my way up. I think that’s actually standard but I have a thing about doing things in order so this may just stress myself out too, rip.

I’m sorry about all this.

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{ooc} Suffering from some pretty heavy and constant anxiety and depression this week. Gonna try and get shit done but it’s likely going to be even fewer and far between than before. Sorry about that.

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Light a candle for your dragon friends

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ancientofaeons:

     Xiro avoided meeting Hood’s gaze, suddenly finding his shoes rather interesting. He fussed with the hem of the cuffs of his shirt for a moment before responding. “Yes… She is a talented healer. Or, well, more talented than I. But I’m not healing as fast as I would like, and there are… other complications.” Some of his wounds had been inflicted by cold iron, though, and that was something even his sister could not heal through magic. Only time and care would cure him of those ills. And that wasn’t even including the terrible curse Black had placed upon him.

     “No one else knows,” he went on after a few beats more of silence. “I’m not… sure who I can turn to. I can’t face this on my own, I know that much for certain. I don’t think Viera is even powerful enough to take Black on…. Not alone, at least. And I’m… well,” he gestured to his legs and the cane he leaned so heavily upon. “Useless.”

     He was terrified, and it took no small amount of courage and humility to admit it to the man he once considered an enemy. It was a great source of shame for him, and had it not hurt to move around, he would have likely turned away from Hood altogether to hide his face. His grip on the head of his cane tightened in his frustration. 

    There was something quite sickening to see Xiro shrink so. Xiro, the Jack of Blades. Man who had set his life ablaze and slaughtered most his family. The creature who had slashed through the Guild like it was nothing and transformed himself into a beast of glittering scale and more flame. Yet here he was coiling in on himself. It horrified Hood quite deeply in a way he did not think he was capable of.

          “Don’t be daft, Jack!” He laughed loud and boisterously. Ever one to flee from uncomfortable feelings. “Can’t even recognize the assets in front of you. Spent too long alone, I think. Makes someone think the only they can rely on is themselves. I would know.”

          "You’re not useless, just a bit beaten.” He purposefully threw his helmet in Xiro’s line of sight. “You’ve got at least one friend you can turn to or...whatever you’d call our peculiar state of not fighting. I like to think I’m still handy with a blade and have spent the last couple centuries studying medicine. You know, if you want someone else to take a look at you.”

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world’s end girlfriend『Flowers of Romance』

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NATURE AESTHETICS.

bold the natural aesthetics that appeal to / apply to your muse. repost, do not reblog. feel free to add any natural features you see fit!

fluffy white nimbus clouds. dark grey cumulonimbus clouds.  a hurricane.  grey cumulonimbus clouds.  rainclouds.   light spring breeze.  a sherbet-colored sky at sunrise.  hazy yellow skies.   deep blue ponds of fresh water.  blankets of sparkling snow.   tornado winds.   monsoon flooding.  rich, orange sunsets.   soft, purple clouds at dusk.   heavy hail. the rumbling of thunder.  icy sleet.   gentle snowfall.  moss-dusted tree bark.  pink sunset clouds.  grey winter skies.   navy blue skies in the daytime.  cool mist in the morning.   leaf-bare trees.   giant ocean waves.   the full moon.   a cracked, dry desert.   rolling hills of prairie grass. sweeping waves of briny seawater.   rocky, steep ravines.  rippling canyon walls.   spindly, cave stalactites.   creeping, green ivy.   lush canopies of leafy trees.   the sunset sky reflected in the glittering sea beneath.  dense, white fog.  pebble-dashed canals.   a peaceful creek of clear water.   flowering cacti dusted with dew,  catching light in the morning sun. a bubbling,   hot pool of volcanic sulfur.   sharp, grey mountainsides.   fossils nestled in chunks of rock. shining gemstone peeking out of rock.  a white sand beach.   deep imprints of animal tracks in the dirt.   soft, squishy moss.  uniform rows of birch trees in winter.   delicate mushrooms popping up in spring from beneath the decay on the forest floor.   tumbleweeds jerking in the faintest wind across the desert landscape.   light rain.   summer wildfires.   a mixing of hot and cool air before a storm.  silent lightning in the static of summer heat.  a windy blizzard.  thick flakes of snow tumbling down from the sky.  a tree standing alone in a barren, yellow field.   afternoon sunlight casting everything in gold.   a desert of loose sand and tall, orange dunes.   a pure blue sky. where water pools in tree roots.   a river of molten rock.   a grove of flowering trees. twisting, mangled roots sticking up from the muddy ground.   bitter, cold winds.  tall, green palm trees, fronds waving in the salty ocean breeze.  tumultuous skies of stormy clouds.   branches of lightning ripping across the sky.   a foggy swamp.   the tree-bare foothills of a mountain range.   messages written on the shore and swept away with the tide. sandy brown cliffsides.   rocky coastlines.  the violent shaking of an earthquake.   the mysterious sound of ethereal trumpets in the sky.   the lights of the auroras borealis and australis.  a black sand beach.   a lone tropical island in the reef of shallow, aqua waters.  underwater volcanic vents.   a herd of migrating mammals.   tree branches growing heavy with ripe fruit.  light streaming down through the clouds.  a field of lush grain waving peacefully in the summer breeze.   the sound of insects and frogs teeming in the night.  natural diamonds nestled in coarse desert sands.   a frozen lake.

TAGGED BY:  @synthmama TAGGING: @daughter-of-sol, @toprotectandscrve

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Hey not to be That Person but please y'all… Don’t be afraid to write older women. More importantly? Don’t be afraid to use face claims that MATCH the age of canonically older women in their 30’s, 40’s, 50’s and on. There’s a huge ageism problem in RPC, especially among female characters, and it’d be fantastic to see a change in that. If you ever need recommendations for older face claims, or want recommendations for older female rp blogs, let me know! But please… be mindful friends.

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ancientofaeons:

      Ah, right. That.

      “Well,” he began with a gentle sigh, brushing hanks of hair from his eyes and pushing them behind an ear, “I wasn’t always a teacher, for starters. I learned to fight from my father when I was but a boy, if only to be able to defend myself. Then when I grew older, I moved on to put those skills to use as a warrior in my own right. I suppose you could say I was a soldier, for a time…” None of this was a lie, of course. He simply left out that his father had been King of the Tuatha, that he had served as the Jack and general to his sister’s vast and formidable armies. 

     “But that’s all in the past. Serves me well enough when walking the roads at night, but other than that, I prefer to leave it behind. All that fighting and bloodshed makes for unpleasant memories. I’m sure you can attest to that. Most folks who have known battle can.”

     He wasn’t just referring to his multiple deaths at the hands of the man he walked with. The most painful memory was that of Mount Ruon. That, he knew, was when he had truly lost everything. He was never the same after that.

     Clearing his throat, he shoved that awful hurt down deep, and he fixed Hood with a searching stare. He had to keep up appearances, and a teacher was a curious creature, full of questions. It would do well that he pretend he didn’t already have answers to them all. “How long have you been ‘alive,’ then? Not a short time, I imagine.”

    War had come to Albion many times in the last couple of years. Or...so he had heard. Hood tended to stay out of those sort of things. War was a dirty and nebulously moral place. If there was anything Hood feared, it was that. So he had kept to the woods doing what he did best. Avoiding human contact and hunting the things that thought they could hide there.

     Which was amusing if you thought about the fact that’s what he was doing there in part.

        “Ah well...” He made a few gestures with his gauntlet like he had something to say but it never seemed to come out. Instead of whatever he was trying to formulate in his mind through frantic thinking he just settled for a muttered “makes sense” before quickly pressing on.

          “I dunno how long it’s been, really.” The clawed fingers of one gauntlet popped up as if he was counting, though his helmet wasn’t looking at them. “Stopped counting the centuries. After the threat of mortal death passed, kinda seemed redundant to keep time. I was a young man when Jack of Blades was defeated though.”

     The first time anyway. He was in his thirties the second time around. Though, he supposed that was now “young” to him now too. Funny how things had utterly changed for him and also not at all. “Your life is probably more exciting than mine. Honest.”

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draconqueen:

                  “   i understand,   ”      she almost laughs at that ,  bit still lets a simple rumble in her throat sound as alexstrasza finds amusement in such a situation. to him ,  perhaps that’s how it was. to her ,   that was not the case. perhaps ,  it should have been. she is very old  &  was once very social. some days might have been easier if people blurred together in the way the other was describing. 

                 her paw moves to her view ,  &  alex takes notice of the glimmering ,  golden bands on her claws. each one with meaning ,  each one gifted by someone she has known. each one enchanted ,  so that she may effectively wear it. her claws wiggle around ,  the tips making a tap onto the ground upon which they stand. 

                “   there is a magic out there that very few understand ,  magic that transcribes in a way that makes it easier for that sort of business. others would don it as easily as humans do usual clothing ,  as i might imagine.   ”

          Alexstrasza was an expressive creature; all rumbles and chortles. It was endearing. So long as it meant what he think he thought it meant. Somehow he doubted his existence would have been tolerated for so long had it been a sign of displeasure. This was more of a purring cat. Not that Hood had any real experience with cats.

    “Ah, impressive work then. I’ve studied it for a very long time but it’s the funniest things I don’t know how to do. I can summon things from the netherworld and bind souls to inanimate objects but change the size of something? Not a clue.” He made a big show of shrugging his shoulders and shaking his helm. “Then again, my studies were always more about fighting and medicine.”

    Hood examined the bands more closely, this time looking for the magic there. He had dedicated a large part of his life to the study of Will and it’s uses but still he was discovering new things all the time. “Were you the one that worked the magic then? It’s impressive work.”

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{ooc} I haven’t opened up Akama’s blog once today but I keep mistaking Hood’s dash for his. Send help. Preferably a new dashboard theme aaah.

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toprotectandscrve:

            “Oh, you gamble much? Not really my thing—Know too many people who’ve lost way too much playing something as a simple card game on the wrong deck.” He smiled and shook his head. “Shame about the alcohol. I know a lot of good places that sell great beer if you ever change your mind.”

     “Did lots of things once upon a time. Don’t have money for it now. ...Entirely unrelated circumstance, mind you.” The actual reason being he hadn’t a place to store money and didn’t actually collect on most his bounties. A few from time to time just for those moments that he pretended to still be human. Such as now. “I’m all ears though. I may be lacking but I have a few friends who still have the stomach for it.”

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Bramblewine & Akamakamas, Fable Verse.

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{ooc} Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! It is I! That loser! Back from the grave again.

Went off to finish replaying Fable III for rp reasons. (And then my goblin brain decided I couldn’t do anything until I finished it..) Beat it and Traitor’s Keep last night though so I should be back and will go working on those eight some drafts of mine. Sorry about the delay.

Not even going to bother putting this on Eath. She is just low activity by nature.

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Roleplay blogs are absolutely not the place to express your disdain for other characters or ships.

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Large (Wikimedia)

I’m so used to seeing the traditionally posed Saint-George-slaying-a-dragon scene that it took me a good minute to figure out what this is even of.

It’s Briton Rivière’s 1808–1809 painting Saint George and the Dragon, of course. It should have been obvious what it’s of.

But I’m not kidding when I say there is a traditional pose. Saint George sits on a rearing horse, stabbing (or preparing to stab) a strangely undersized dragon below. In Medieval and Byzantine versions, in High Renaissance versions, in Baroque versions, in Symbolist versions, in Expressionist versions, it’s always the same.

I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that a painter famous for his paintings of “contemporary genre, classical, and biblical themes, invariably involving animals,” as the Dashesh Museum puts it, would pay a little more attention to the roles the animals play in such a scene.

But what makes this so stunning is its honesty. Suddenly, Saint George’s feat isn’t an easy triumph: it’s gratitude for even surviving in his heaven-turned eyes; it’s a battle so hard-won that his horse lies dead or dying beneath the dragon; it’s exhaustion so severe that he himself lies—almost companionably—in the curve of his slain enemy’s body, his helmet cast to the side.

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A happy belated birthday to @fatherentropy​! Would have posted this yesterday, but I didn’t have access to a printer. Hope you like it~!