* 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍. ‘𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐀 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃. 【 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇. 】 tags: #HOTDrp, #fantasyrp, #mvrp. twitter.com/i/events/15978…

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝑩𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵. a daughter, a sister, a beloved rider of moondancer. find grace in her wildfire; blazing without rhythm or reason. #gotrp / #hotdrp / #mvrp ⋆·˚ ༘ *

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 in how her sharp needle weaves with fabric; loose upon a lap. Red thread bleeds into white, a melody spewing from lips. She is cold despite the sticky heat, perspiration clinging to bones much like her twins—a daughter weeping at her feet.

‘ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃, 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ! Cregan “Wolf in the North” Stark written for the #hotdrp verse, with love from @starkgore. #mvrp / #asoiafrp. 𝖒aster thread below.

* ‘ independent Rhaenyra, bled of ink by ( FERN ). #hotdrp, #mvrp, #gotrp. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖.

She is a foul 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧; bruised fists while she wears a lovely face. The coin tossed, she is a creature forged in frenzied 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞. Forgive her not for the squire with the caved in face—she needed no dragon to devour him alive.

( 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎 ) • NEWBORN SOULS. 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: childbirth && mention of nsfw content. ( A SOLO ! by @dreamingfyre. ) #hotdrp. To carry a child, is another 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥 entirely. As her belly swelled with a babe—a body shattered, stretch marks +

A dragons’ daughter lingers in the shadow; gaze upon the reader. Forgive her, she wants to speak to them.

( musings. )

『 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗘𝗡𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗚𝗔𝗥𝗬𝗘𝗡. 』 ❛ 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. && she is a daughter, a sister and a mother: tangled in the strings of fate. tags: #HOTDrp, #GOTrp, #MVrp. twitter.com/i/events/15837…

&& happy Valentine’s to no-one.

Let her live with naught but quiet fire blazing.

* 𝒲𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝒲𝘰𝘳𝘮. 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀. ❝ There is no power but what the people allow you to take. ⟦ tags: #asoiafrp, #mvrp, #gotrp, #hotdrp. more information found below. ⟧

𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 ! independent && indie cregan stark of #gotrp universe. more information below.

She is only a creature of untamed wilderness: but she is one, that is cornered as she spews into a bucket.

❝I have my fists ready.❞

❝I want to hold you close, if not to make a lovely necklace of hands.❞

❝The seven hells may give you mercy for I will not.❞

❝Good morrow.❞

Footsteps are light, barely audible: she is hunting the reader. When she finds them long at last, do not mind how a blade presses against their throat. ❝There you are.❞

❝Morrow six of wanting to take Aemond’s eye.❞