Hello it's me, back from the dead. Here to share some bastards I made in a mix of HD and Not-So-HD resolution.
Love to hate these fuckers, they're something else.



#ao3#ao3 fanfic#writeblr#writing community#archive of our own


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Hello it's me, back from the dead. Here to share some bastards I made in a mix of HD and Not-So-HD resolution.
Love to hate these fuckers, they're something else.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
The other founder of the Viperaden, Deckard!Â
31. Deckard and Liz :3
âFlowerâ - Fun ChoiceÂ
Deckard leans back and the old wooden chair croaks in protest as the front prongs lift just an inch from the ground. He rolls his shoulders back and can feel rather than hear the sharp crack raddle through his cranium as he attempts to push away the bags stooping beneath his red eyes. He bites back a yawn, but it still finds its way out as a strangled groan. Heâs tired.Â
The chair dips back, dangerously so, before his weight rolls forward and the front end of the chair settles back onto stable ground. His feet spread out, his hands rest once more on a solid black spruce table within, what this town considers, a decent library, and his eyes once more settle on the drawing depicted in the book.
âHulder.â The word feels foriegn on his tongue. âOr is it Huldra?â He squints at the typed scrawl written in the shadow dialect and wonders, not for the last time, if he should just get one of the librarians proficient in the language to just read it to him like, you know, they would to a fledgling. And yeah, sure, heâd be totally asking to get dunked on for being a total idiot for not knowing something as simple as the language of the region theyâve been travelling through for the last few weeks, but heâd also be saved from a headache. Except he wouldnât because thatâs just how his life is. So, why even bother?Â
Besides, he can still pick out more than a few affixes rooted in common draconic to carry him and as for the sentences that look like theyâve been mixed in a blender? Eh, theyâre probably not important and certainly not his problem- not yet, at least, but thatâs for future Deckard, from present Deckard, with love and mostly apathy. He forces himself to reread the same sentence again; âHulder...secret..lady?â He squints, leans closer to comprehend the sentence better. âDark, Obscure? Forest. Maybe they mean den or a lair.â He mumbles, a familiar frustration building behind his temples. âWhy do they even put their verb at the end? Ugh, is this mostly attributive?âÂ
He doesnât have enough patience and knowledge of grammar to chew through this all.Â
Deckard holds his hands around his forehead as he leans forward again and glares at the text before his glance slides to the left where the etching is. Itâs black and white, cross hatched, almost like a drawing in one of those old fairytale books or a medical textbook, of a lightly dressed woman- a beautiful, breathtaking, and apparently dangerous hulder- draped so across a large, protruding root of a gnarled black spruce. In the space between the ground and the root, a cowâs tail dangles idly. And itâs her. He knows itâs her. Sheâs unmistakable.Â
Itâs a horrible drawing, he thinks to himself as he traces a finger around the form (not even realizing the heart-shaped path his finger has taken). Theyâve taken her soft lips and given her a hard line and where her electric blue eyes should be, two, dark, vacant dots stare back. A hatchling could do better than that.Â
He could do better than that.Â
He lets out another sigh. He came here this morning to figure out what she is, not swoon over some dragonâs drawing. It wasnât a horrible drawing, but it wasnât swoon material. Deckard considers ripping the page out anyways- but later, when that one librarian stops glancing his way every five minutes. So, sheâs a hulder. Whatever that is. And hulderâs deal withâŠ.secrets? They live in forests- which, newsflash, so do most dragons and beastclan, so thatâs not really helpful.Â
He flips ahead and bites back another groan when more text greets him instead of more images (preferably of her face) like he had hoped. It was a complete accident that he even found this book. Itâs not even in the catalogue. The leatherbound book covered in scratches and stains had made a strong enough impression after it had fallen off the shelf that he couldnât help but glance through it as he nursed his bruised foot on the empty chair across from him. Then, bam, thereâs her body curled like a laugh and nestled against a tree that heâd almost swear heâs seen before if it werenât for the fact that all the trees in the Tangled Woods looked exactly the same.Â
He draws his finger along the spine of the sentence, skipping most of the contents and pausing every so often on the words that he can make out. So far, heâs got:Â
Hulder, Secrets, Lair (or just a dark forest), flowers- or as the shadow tongued might say, âmulticolored tree stemsâ. He chuckles to himself at that. Maybe she likes flowers? Despite all his expectations, there was a florist closer to the coastal part of the town where the forestâs canopy is thin enough to raise sun-thirsty plants. Yeah, he could get something simple. Just a few flowers in a bouquet and something sweet for her to wrap her lips around-Â
The wildclaw behind the desk looks up and raises an eyebrow at him as Deckard desperately tries to quell his sudden choking. It takes an aggressive, dismissive wave and a spluttered, âIâm fine, reallyâ to keep her from walking over, but she looks close to calling out for a medic as she continues to watch him. He can feel his face and earfins burn as he borderline buries his face into the journal. Focus, Deckard. This is not the time and definitely Not the place. He needs to Read this Book so he can impress her- so that he knows what heâs dealing with here.Â
He canât read the text like this with his forehead nestled into its crease, so he puts some distance between himself and the book and leans back again. He said heâd visit her again before they left and heâs sure Siren would be thrilled to have someone distract her. Even, if it might be via flirting. If not flirting, then, well, heâs not sure. He should get her flowers. She probably wouldnât expect flowers. Should he get her something sweet? What do hulderâs eat? He glances at the journal one more time. Thereâs no way heâs going to manage to slough through that text to find the answer without evolving his headache into a migraine. Heâll have to try again another day.Â
He lets the chair fall forward and thud, before pushing the chair back and standing up with the journal in hand. He slips between the bookcases, weaving in and out of sight, and then out the other side towards the exit. If he leaves now, he should be able to get something simple at the florist before the expedition. The treasure on hand should be enough and itâs not like this town has a nightlife worth spending it on.
He steps through and out the doors of the library, grip tight on his satchel. He smirks. And he didnât even have to tear out the page after all.Â
Much later, after walking the length of the town and back, Deckard settles with a bundle of purple strawberries and a medium bouquet of flowers consisting of apple blossoms, pink camellia and carnations with fern woven in. His treasure bag is empty and he has never seen Siren more confused at the sight of these things. Please donât ask, please donât ask, please donât- thankfully, Siren turns his attention away and leads the expedition forward and Deckard breathes out.
 They enter into the dark forest.Â
Well now that @viperfishy-fr went and posted her practice prompts, I canât not post these. Thanks to Viperfishy for the prompts, always excited to draw such...happy moments. Iâve discovered captions holy shit. Details of characters and pose inside.Â
Did some more meme expressions with @viperfishy-fr. Top two and the middle of the second row is Jim, last of the first row is Axial, and then the first for the second Row is Peanut and the last is Deckard.
I like the Axial one and the Jim losing it one.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Did an expression meme with @viperfishy-fr who gave me dragons to draw w/ prompts. In order from first to last is: Deckard, Jim, Ultra, Starling, Siren, Carmine, Jekyll, Peanut, and Axial.Â
Jim â in winter clothes and/or Deckard đ in Victorian attire!
Jimâs casual fashion, whether spring or winter, is very similar. Also, 100% Deckardâs cane is also a sword.
Founders of the Viperaden; Starling, Carmine, and Deckard. Danger flocks in threes.