#*sits on top of my hoard like a tiny dragon*

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

STOP UR STASH OF MORA???

I ONLY HAVE 300K AND THATS ABOUT TO GO DOWN REAL FAST BC IM GONNA BE PULLING FOR AYAYA SECOND HALF 😭😭😭

heh,,,,,,,,,,

heh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

[fuzziekins]

Behold my [messy] bed with 40ish plushies (depending if you count my Stitch face pillow where my notebooks sit and slide off of as well as Coffee who holds my laptop on top of him. His name is Coffee because he's a cat who is coffee-colored, not because i like coffee).

I'm sure you can see the obvious Elsa, Sobble, Alolan Vulpix, Light Fury, Charmander aka Zippo, Elsa and her girlfriend Raya, 9 Bruni's (1 is semi hiding), Sleeping Stitch, Pooh, Eeyore, 2 Tigger brothers, Piglet, Shiny Vaporeon, Pikachu, Mudkip, Tepig, Little Mudkip, and Waddles. At least five of them were gifts throughout my life, the ones at the top of my head behind half the Bruni's, Pikachu, Waddles, one of the Winnie the Pooh characters, and either Mudkip or Vaporeon (one of them i got at my first Comic Con, the other my friend got me the next year and i just can't remember which came first). As you can tell i have an army of Bruni's because i love him AND I WANT ALL THE BRUNI'S.

Behind my pillow is KitKit, who was a gift along with Coffee and she helps serve as an extra pillow and she's VERY soft. Next to my pillow is the arctic cat Marshmallow who is Elsa's pet along with her partner Pokémon Vulpix and Sobble. In front of her we have the black cat Binx who is sitting next to his bestie the Siamese cat Dani (hey if the black cat was gonna be Binx it was only fitting to stick with the Hocus Pocus theme for Dani). The beanie baby dog in front of Vulpix is Noodles and he was a holiday gift from one of my coworkers a couple years back. The tiny brown bear sandwiched between 3 Bruni's is Coco; he was a holiday gift from another coworker this past winter and he also came with chocolate so he is a fellow chocoholic. The polar bear laying on top of Raya is her and Elsa's pet polar bear Naga, yes named after Korra's polar bear dog Naga; she was a gift from my mom. Next to her are the unicorn sisters Anna and Elsa respectively (Elsa came first, she was on clearance at my store post-winter and very much an impulse buy like most of my plushies. Anna is the trans-colored unicorn who's actually a squeaky toy for dogs but my mom saw her and thought i'd like her more than our dog). In front of them is their trans dragon Sparkle (or is she Twilight? i can never remember cause she has a mark on her side that is VERY similar to Twilight Sparkle from MLP:FiM and i couldn't get away from either of those names) but she loves space and was one of the first Squishables my mom got me. Finally living on the edge literally is the yellow rainbow dragon Lemonona aka Mona and she enjoys hoarding lemons and artwork.

And trust me, you do NOT wanna know how many other stuffed animals are in my room taking up space i don't have and what their names and intricate backstories are because i have a family of bunnies that you'll be reading about for at least ten minutes on their own.

Also, yes, my laptop and Nintendo both have names as well. My nintendo is named Kya as a nod to ATLA because of her teal coloring. My laptop is named May because before her came Misty and with how long Misty lasted and was there for me it was only fitting to continue the Pokémon theme with the second best companion in the series.

[aprilrainsimblr]

Basegame thigh-high boots untucked version

This might be the most underwhelming piece of cc I’ve released so far... But my new year’s sims resolution was to stop sitting on a hoard of stuff I made like a dragon, and maybe someone else need these.

Basically, it’s a simple CASP edit to make these boots layer on top of pants. This is a non-default edit, because you can only use them with skin-tight clothes. They are enabled for everyday, formalwear, outerwear, career and maternity. Disabled for random. Won’t conflict with anything because they don’t override any game files. Textures and meshes are linked to the original so the file is tiny.

Download (google drive)

Alternative download (dropbox)

As per tradition, credits to EA for the original.

[gotnofucks]

Compromise

Paring: dark!August Walker x Reader

Summary: Your surrender to him would ensure the safety of the world.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, violence, blackmail and manipulation, 18+ ONLY

MASTERLIST

+++++

The doorman helped you out of the car, your hand firmly clasped in his gloved one as you steadied your feet in your high heels. The cold made gooseflesh rise on your arms and back, the little hair standing up in the breeze. You clutch your coat closer, following your escort inside the hotel and exhaling deep in the elevator. You were nervous, not something unfamiliar. But you were also scared, something that could prove fatal in your line of work.

As the elevator dinged, announcing the top floor that opened in front of you, you almost didn’t step out. The whole thing felt off, the bodice of your dress hugging you tight and making it difficult to breath. And yet when your escort waved you forward, you followed behind him, the floor length skirt of your dress softly swishing on the marble floors and your heels tick-tocking against them.

The man led you past a number of unmarked doors before stopping before an ornately carved doorway, intricate vines twisting on its surface to form a beautiful design. The man gave three sharp knocks and pushed the door open, bowing a little as you entered but not following. The clicking shut of the door made you flinch, and you looked around at the room in awe.

It was a beautiful room, large with the opposite wall made completely of glass, the night sky twinkling at you as the distant city lights burned small like tiny candle flames. There was a round table in the center of the room, draped in silver and black silk tablecloth and set with two chairs. Against the right wall sat a large four poster bed similarly laid in black sheets and sheer white curtains tied to the posts.

You swallowed uneasily, walking inside with as little noise as possible. The invitation, glittery silver ink on black polished paper burning a hole inside your handbag. It was worded so wisely, disguised as a dinner invitation, and yet bearing the marks of someone who could destroy your life. The code was easy to break, and as you read between the polite lines of invitation and gazed at the secret code for your covert mission, your hands trembled. You don’t tremble much. You learnt not to when you joined this task force as an agent.

And yet, the knowledge that someone knew about you and your mission made your fingers curl up for warmth inside your palm. The future of millions was depending on this mission, and this mission depended on you. If you failed, the world would fall, and you will live the rest of your life bearing the blood of endless lives on your soul.

When he stepped out from the shadows that concealed the door behind them, you gasped. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were. The blue green eyes you had looked at everyday for the past few months gazed back at you, amused, analyzing.

“Hello Agent, a fine evening isn’t it?”

August had always been polite, always sincere. He was the one person you thought was innocent in this whole operation. He was just a CIA operative; he was an agent who got recruited into something they didn’t know the truth about. Yet, he stood before you with a smile gracing his lips beneath that bushy mustache and the dimple on his chin barely visible under his beard. He was donning a sharp black suit matching with the room esthetics, and he cocked his head at you, pulling out a chair as an offer.

“You look lovely, let me take that coat.”

You let him remove your coat, rubbing your arms as you silently took the seat he offered. In this large room, with the dark décor, his huge beefy body made him appear sinister, like a dragon who was overlooking his hoard.

“I didn’t expect you.” You commented, taking a sip of the water in front of you. Just like that, your fear was gone. The nerves before the mission vanished as you came back into your element. The field was your battleground, and you knew you owned it. August smiled, sitting across from you.

“Oh, I know, and that was your mistake. Or maybe it was my success. I am not completely innocent but –”

“– you don’t exactly scream a genocidal maniac either.” You completed for him. He was good.

August Walker walked the fine line when it came to being an agent. While he was courteous and polite, he was also easy to anger. You’d seen him in action, fighting off men twice his bulk with barely an effort, the faintest tinge of amusement in his eyes as he watched them bleed. Espionage was a rough life, and many agents went in over their head to deal with the bloodshed and cruelty they witnessed. You didn’t think he was naïve, but you also didn’t think him evil.

“Where did I go wrong?” You asked him, genuinely curious. You were so meticulous with everything; each move you made was calculated. You had to be brilliant to be handed a mission as important as this.

August splayed his hands on the table that was curiously empty of any food, only two glasses of water and two empty wine glasses with a bottle of wine sitting in the center.

“Nowhere truly. You were so fascinating to look at though. In fact, I think that had I not been looking so closely at you, I would have missed the little signs.” His voice was smooth and soft, level. Eyes never leaving yours, but then again, they barely left you before. You knew he was watching you, but you had thought it was natural for someone to keep an eye on the new addition of the team.

“Little signs?”

“The first time I noticed something was when you tapped that tattoo near the crook of your elbow. You did that often, I though it was a nervous tick. I thought it was cute.” He continued, and both your eyes strayed to the small Celtic shield tattoo that was inked over the scarred skin hiding the small chip under your skin. Your eyes met his and he smirked.

He had known all those times you touched it to send out messages in morse code, to send out locations. He had known, but never let on.

“What else?” You wanted to know, if only to stall the rising trepidation in your belly. Did you compromise everyone in your team?

“Your eyes.” He said, almost breathlessly and for a moment it became difficult to maintain the eye contact. “Your eyes were such a lovely shade when I first saw you, sparkling. I love how expressive they are, how they seem to glitter. But when you wore the smart lenses, they seemed different. Maybe not to others, but to me. I knew exactly where you have flecks in your eyes, the lenses shielded them.”

You found yourself gulping as you heard him spoke, the passion in his voice thrilling you as much as it terrified you. His gaze on you had never been just analytical. It was fanciful. It was observant. He didn’t look at you like an agent, he looked at you with the hunger of a wolf.

“What do you want August?” You finally asked him, unsure what he wanted from you.

“First, I want you to take off those earrings and crush them.” He said, sitting back on his chair and raising a brow. You stiffly followed his command, pulling off your earrings and crushing the pearl on top of it with the edge of the glass, including the G.P.S tracker inside. August seemed pleased and he nodded, coming forward to take the bottle of wine and pouring you a generous amount.

“I don’t want to remove the chip as long as you promise not to touch it. The blood, it would ruin the mood wouldn’t it?” He asked while cocking his head, taking his wine glass, and clinking it with yours.

“You did not call me here do drink wine and just talk. What do you want?” You snap at him, irrigation bubbling in your gut. The twitching mustache whenever he smirked, that irked you.

He crossed his hand over his chest, licking his lips as his eyes dropped from your fiery eyes to your pursed lips, and from there to your cleavage.

“I want you to give up your mission” He said. The unsaid ‘and’ in there made you arch your brow in question. “And I want you to surrender to me.”

You leaned your elbows on the table, scrunching your nose as you said with as much venom as you could muster, “No. And no. I’d rather die than let you destroy innocent lives for your misguided idea of peace.”

The flash of teeth told you he expected that answer. Taking a sip of his wine he rolled that gulp in his mouth before swallowing, your eyes following the movement of this Adam’s apple.

“Well then, we negotiate.” He offers and pointedly looks at your wine glass. You touch it lightly with his and gulp in a mouthful, trying to keep your nerves steady. This was still your battlefield; you could still win.

“You want to negotiate a terrorist attack?” You asked him with the smallest of smile, and he returned you a bigger one.

“Call it a proposition. I’ll stand back on the attack as long as you agree to surrender to me”.

You blinked, confused, and caught off guard. You drowned your wine, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“And by surrender you mean?”

You knew what he meant. He had admitted to you that he was watching you. He spoke to you like he knew you. His eyes raked over your figure in a way that seemed to go deeper than the skin. You watch him stand up and come over to your side, sitting on the table edge in front of you.

“You know what I mean. I want your complete surrender. You have five minutes to decide.” The amused tilt to his voice raised your hackles and you nervously looked over your shoulder.

“Five minutes?” You asked and he chuckled.

“You had to have known that your wine had poison in it.”

You stood up from your chair so fast it toppled. You glanced at your empty wine glass and then to August. Was he lying? But even as you toyed with that thought you could feel sweat building above your lip and hairline, breathing getting just a tad bit harder. Your eyes widened and you stuck a finger down your throat, trying to vomit.

“Won’t help, its already in your blood. You just need to decide if you’d rather be mine or rather be dead.” August said, just sitting and watching your frantic movements. You panted, eyes closing as you fought to think clearly. It was not a difficult decision to make. You opened your eyes, glaring at him as he played with a small vial of what you were sure was the antidote.

“Well sweetness, what will it be? Me, or the cold arms of death?” He asked.

You walked up to him, taking hold of his lapels to pull him closer and slapped him hard.

“You bastard.” You spat. “Give me the antidote.”

You reached for the small glass bottle, but August pushed you away with a firm hand on your shoulder. He looked mischievous, your suffering a source of amusement for him.

“Not so fast.” He tutted. “You need to surrender sweetness, and the first thing to go will be that pride.”

With that, he unbuckled his belt and quickly undid the button on his pants, eyes on you the whole time. You watched in bafflement as he lowered his boxers to bring out his semi-erect cock from within, a closed fist stroking it slowly.

“On your knees.” He commanded, and with a flick of his finger snapped open the bottle and poured some antidote on his now hard cock. “You don’t have much time. You want to live? Get down on your knees and suck.”

The burning in your lungs increased both with the poison and humiliation as you sank down to your knees, the will to live making you waste little time to come forward and put your mouth around him. Your tongue laved at him, catching the bitter essence of the antidote, and eagerly looking for more. He let you do it your way for a while before fisting your hair and jerking you hard, forcing his tool deep inside your mouth.

You moaned as he stretched your lips around himself, the girth of him too wide for comfort. You tried to breath through your nose, tongue moving around for the left-over antidote sticking on his skin.

“Suck sweetness, suck like you mean it. Your world depends on how good you put that mouth to use.” He said groaning, thrusting in your mouth with vigor. You did as he commanded, hollowing your cheeks, and sucking gently, swirling your tongue as you bobbed your head. You pulled away, gasping, and then poking at his slit with your tongue, tasting his musky precum.

August pulled you up by your neck, pushing and moving behind until you fell and landed on the soft mattress of the bed. He climbed over you, pants discarded and shirt unbuttoned, a maniac gleam in his lust blown eyes.

“Please, the antidote.” You begged. You hated pleading but you love breathing more. As you reached out a hand, August took it in his and kissed your fingers before kissing the inside of your wrist. You shivered, his gentle caresses making you respond despite your revulsion.

He brough the antidote to his own mouth, taking in a mouthful and then lowered his mouth to yours. You parted your lips, allowing him to transfer the life saving liquid into your mouth and you swallowed. His tongue invaded your mouth, swirling inside and your hands grabbed his shoulder and hair, pulling him closer. The possibility of dying had you clinging to the only source in this room that made you feel alive in this moment.

“I hate you!” You mumbled against his lips, pulling on his mustache with your teeth and he chuckled. His hands lowered the straps of your dress, lips following to suck a mark into your skin.

“You can hate me, but you cannot leave me. Your precious world stays intact, as long as you do what I say.”

You let him take control, moans spilling from your mouth unbidden at the pleasure he wrecked on your mind and body. You slyly moved your hand down, letting it drag down your side along the slit in your dress to grasp your thigh holster. August’s hand reached the knife strapped to your thigh just as yours did, his lips smiling against your skin as he grabbed it.

“Oh sweetness, you wring my heart with your strength.” He locked his gaze on yours, using your own knife to cut your dress in the middle and bare you to his eyes. The small scars that you received over the years in your service littered your body, and you groaned when he traced them softly.

As his bare body folded over yours, you let your thoughts fly away. You surrendered to his whims and your basic nature, nails digging in his back as he held you close and entered you slowly. You moved in tandem, meeting every one of hit thrusts with a raise of your hips, lips molded over his and curses flowing between both of you.

The ridges of his cock scratched your walls and made you whimper, the sheer size of him taking away your breath. You felt so full, full of August. In that moment, he occupied your body and your thoughts. Your hands roamed his sweaty body, heels digging in his strong back as he powered into you. The delicious burn of his beard left red scratches around your nipples and neck, his hands holding you tight enough to burn their shape in your body.

You convulsed around him, his finger mashing your clit making you soar over the cliff and fall into a valley of pleasure, lightning bolts racing across your back. He was still thrusting, forcing you to look at him as he emptied inside you. As he rolled over and you caught your breath, he tossed you the remaining antidote which you gulped swiftly.

You watched him pant, his hairy chest glistening with sweat. The raw power of his body, the pleasure he just delivered both embarrassed and excited you. You knew you must surrender, must compromise yourself if that was what would take for the world to survive.

“You may own my body, even my mind at times. But don’t think I’ll ever surrender my heart.” You told him and he laughed, reaching over to hold your arm in his, pressing a soft kiss first to both your cheeks and then lips.

“You know I can’t resist a challenge sweetness.” He said. You watched in fascinated horror as his fingers hovered over your tattoo, looking at you with glittering eyes. He tapped out a short message that made your heart stutter and then your knife was pressed into your skin, digging deep to pull out the chip as your screamed.

She’s Mine

His bloody fingers cupped your face, pulling you closer to nuzzle you in his warmth.

“Just surrender to me, and the world will wake up to see another day.”

+++++

Tags: @what-is-your-wish​ @shooting-star-love​ @stanmysoul​ @sweeterthanthis​ @scentedsongrebel​ @muralskins​ @rayofdawnworld @agniavateira​ 

[redorich]

Out of This World

Niki watches despairingly as her new roommate, one Mr. Wilbur Soot, once again pours water into his cereal. He seems to prefer it that way; Niki can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether her roommate is a literal alien from outer space, or just the weirdest motherfucker she’s ever met.

What kind of a last name is Soot, anyway? She thinks to herself unkindly. At least he doesn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor for her to clean up like her last roommate did. But seriously, Niki can’t tell if this man is a crackhead or not.

“Niki, can you pass the salt?” Wilbur says, breaking her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she plucks it from the lowest shelf of the tiny kitchen cabinet and hands it to him. She regrets it instantly when he begins to salt his cereal.

Breathing deeply so as not to grab him by his bony shoulders and shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, she flees the scene of the food crime. When Niki was in college, she was surrounded by people who asserted they had the world figured out. Atoms and gravity and wavelengths. But Niki knows that humanity is desperate to control the uncontrollable, define that which cannot be explained. Science, Niki knows, isn’t just throwing out what doesn’t fit, but rather taking all the data and asking the question, “Why?” So, she thinks, let’s consider the data. 

-------

Niki sneaks trepidatiously to the door to Wilbur’s bedroom. Who knows what sort of unholy, confusing mess he’s got in there, lurking in wait for its next unsuspecting victim. A pinch of guilt hits her. Yeah, Wilbur may be a lunatic, but an alien? Really? It’s a bit uncharitable of her to think such a thing. Shaking herself, she knocks on the door.

“Yes?” Wilbur’s voice carries from inside the room. “Come in.”

Steeling herself, she turns the doorknob with a sweaty palm and is faced with…

A bed. A desk with a computer on it. Two pairs of shoes lined neatly near the closet. Wilbur is taking off his headphones-- he was playing Minecraft. How… ordinary of him.

“Hi, Wilbur. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted, uh, to see how you were settling in.”

Wilbur smiles his pretty smile. “Thank you. Quite unaccustomed am I to the comforts of-- apartments.”

What Yoda-ass kind of phrasing is that? Niki thinks. A figurine of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters stares her down from its place on Wilbur’s desk. She meets its eyes warily.

“Oh! Noticed my Ghostbusters statuette, have you?” Wilbur says brightly. “I have more in my closet, if you should like to see them.”

Niki is filled with a sick sense of curiosity. Yes, she wants to see whatever insane thing Wilbur hides in his closet, but she also doesn’t. She idly wonders if Wilbur has ever read The Cask of Amontillado. She feels like he has. This is not comforting.

Wilbur doesn’t sense her hesitation. A small corner of her brain thinks it’s because he’s unfamiliar with human body language. Without pause, Wilbur opens the closet door, revealing…

Niki’s first thought is, where does he keep his clothes? Because the closet is filled with Ghostbusters paraphernalia. The entire. Fucking. Closet. It wasn’t even that great of a movie?? How much did Wilbur spend on this, anyway?

Her roommate misinterprets her blank uncomprehending stare as a marveling gaze. He puffs up proudly.

“Such a profound impact have these movies made! I am truly fortunate to have met a lass of such upstanding artistic caliber, that you should also enjoy the Ghostbusters franchise.”

“Thank you for showing me this,” she says slowly. “I need to-- water the dog. I mean, I left the stove on. At my friend’s house. Uh, see you later.”

She beats a hasty retreat, leaving her apartment for Eret’s place. Something whispers in the depths of her mind: Doesn’t one of the Ghostbusters movies have aliens in it?

-------

Orange is her favorite nail polish color. Eret paints the nails on her right hand in that soft warm shade of orange as he listens to her complain.

“Am I being irrational? Like, do you think I’m going too far?” 

Eret hums noncommittally, putting a little flamingo sticker on her index nail. “He does sound like an unusual person, but I don’t know if I would say he’s an alien.” 

Niki nods her head, since she can’t gesture with her hands. “Okay, yeah, sure-- but he puts salt in his cereal with water. He has a literal dragon’s hoard of memorabilia from shitty movies that came out like three decades ago. And his vibe is just...off. Like when I talk to him, he’s there, but his head’s drifting off somewhere in outer space. God, I’m the worst.”

Eret protests. “Hey, hey, you’re not the worst. Look. I don’t know why this dude is bugging you out so much, but you said he didn’t seem dangerous, right?”

Niki nods dejectedly.

“So, we can figure this out together,” Eret says with a flourish, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish.

The tender moment is interrupted by Niki’s ringtone. It’s from Wilbur; speak of the devil and he shall appear. Gingerly, so as not to ruin the wet paint on her nails, she picks up the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hello?” she says, motioning for Eret to remain quiet.

“Ahoy, Niki! Wherefore are mine frog legs gone?”

“What?” Eret mouths at her. Niki doesn’t understand either.

“Sorry, Wilbur, what was that?”

“My frog legs,” comes the crackly timbre of a phone in an area with poor reception. “They are no longer in the refrigerator.”

Niki sputters. “Why did you have frog legs in the-- no, never mind. I don’t know what happened to your frog legs, Wilbur.”

The phone line repeats static to her for a moment as Wilbur pauses. “Interesting. Perhaps they walked away, as legs are so oft wont to do. Niki, would you mind dearly to purchase some more? And perhaps, be you willing, some condensed milk?”

Eret silently gags at the idea of frog legs and condensed milk together. Niki doesn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Niki says. 

Eret shakes his head at her, as though begging her not to torture herself like this. The moment Niki hangs up, the first words out of Eret’s mouth are, “That man is one hundred percent an alien. I am so sorry I ever doubted you.”

-------

With frog legs, condensed milk, and an Eret in tow, Niki enters her apartment the following morning with new-found assurance. The rest of the evening goes about as normal as it can, with Wilbur humming nursery rhymes and stirring a pot of, quite frankly, poison. Niki and Eret hide in the living room watching all the Ghibli movies until the only light left comes from the TV in front of them. The front door opens and the floors creak as Will enters. I thought he was in his room?

Eret seems to be on the same page as her. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he says, distant fear in his eyes.

Niki’s ears pick up a faint sound. “Shh!” she hisses. “He’s on the phone.”

Though the apartment is dark (the only light being the TV), Wilbur’s eyes glow like an animal caught on camera. Niki shivers. She only barely catches a glimpse before he ducks back into the entrance hallway, but what she sees unnerves her.

“Philza, calm down,” Wilbur says from the hallway as he takes off his shoes. “It is fine, she suspects not.” 

A pause. The other person on the line, Philza, is talking. 

Wilbur replies, “She was impressed with my Ghostbusters collection, you know-- Ghostbusters is a great movie, fuck off!”

Another pause. Wilbur sighs.

“Aye, I must admit you may have been right on that one. Pretending to be human is--”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

Wilbur’s head peers around the hallway’s corner in a panic to see Niki and Eret. Niki is pointing her finger at Wilbur with pride on her face, and Eret looks as though he wants to be doing the same thing.

The two in the living room both flush a bit at the outburst, but Niki doggedly continues. “You’re an alien!”

Even though Wilbur’s phone isn’t on speaker, Niki and Eret hear Philza’s laughter from all the way across the room. Wilbur sputters and angrily hangs up the phone, before turning the corner to properly face the two humans. His eyes are actually glowing, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Eret observes. Of course, he also notes that Wilbur’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and he looks about ready to jump out the window to run from them.

“I am… not an alien,” Wilbur says softly.

“Wh-- but you just said--” Eret says, then cuts himself off when Wilbur phases through the fucking floor.

“He’s a ghost,” Niki whispers, all the pieces clicking into place. Old English, weird taste in food, Ghostbusters are you kidding me. If Niki didn’t just watch her roommate evaporate, she’d be banging her head against a wall and asking her professors to revoke her degree.

Wilbur phases back up through the floor, much closer this time but still hesitant. He sits down a few feet away from the pair of humans nervously. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him, Niki thinks. Like the bears at the zoo.

“For many years, observed the living have I,” Wilbur begins slowly. “I wished to commune with them once again, as one of their own. My father-- Philza-- said unto me that I knew nothing of the modern era. I confess that he was right. Willst you cast me out of your home, knowing now of the spectre that I am?”

Niki tries and fails to suppress the amused quirk of her eyebrow. “How about this: Eret and I show you the ropes of being alive in the 21st century, and in return, you keep the frog legs on your side of the fridge?”

Wilbur smiles that pretty smile again. “Deal.”

-------

“Niki? What is an OnlyFans?”

FIN

[theprincesslibrary]

#26: Quid pro quo

She had a plan. A good plan, flawed of course, but a good plan nonetheless. She would march into the Azure dragon’s lair, offer him a deal he could not refuse, and spend the rest of her days in relative peace. She would not be burned alive, nor have her body desecrated postmortem. It was a good plan, albeit a bit of a crazy one.

She had carefully designed said plan for months, spent countless hours with her nose buried deep in obscure literature, practically harassed the head of the royal guard into telling her every tiny detail of his encounter with the sand dragons - the man used to boast about his tale of glory, now he couldn’t bear to utter the word dragon - but for all her effort she still wasn’t ready for the Azure dragon himself. There were a few key elements about the beast which were not accounted for in those dusty grimoires: for one, he was a man rather than a scaled monster; and two… he was incredibly handsome. He had ordered her to sit opposite him, and she had since spent a stupid amount of time staring at his face, which wasn’t all that smart considering her current predicaments. Yet, one could hardly blame her; she had been expecting a blue lizard - a giant lizard, with wings, and teeth, and claws - and she was now sitting in front of the most gorgeous man she had ever met. Nothing during her months of research had prepared her for the day's events, and she was a bit lost and quite unsure of how to proceed.  

 *****

When she had walked past the entrance on the north side of the snowy mountain, she had expected a cave or an abandoned mine; a place dark and humid, where the air would be stale, almost putrid. There would be spiderwebs on the walls and maybe a few rotting corpses lying in the shadows of a dusty corner. The place would be grim, quiet - save for the few drip drops of a leaking roof - and extremely scary. But the halls she was wandering in looked nothing like old collapsing tunnels. There were sculpted columns where she expected old support beams, and vast rooms with smooth walls instead of rough rock and loose stone. It looked more like an underground palace than it did the belly of a mountain, and she couldn’t help but be a little bit in awe of the craftsmanship required to achieve such a feat. Her father’s castle could never compare to the dragon’s lair, nothing could.

As she made her way from room to room, she found no pile of gold or shiny jewels, not that she hoped to find any, she had specifically chosen the Azure dragon for its peculiar taste in treasure. She had however expected a few rotten corpses, maybe some dead knights, or discarded armors, but again she was pleasantly surprised: not a dead body in sight. Just books, shelves after shelves for as far as the eye could see. They occupied every surface of the place: wooden tables covered in parchments, rare volumes piled up on the floor. Some piles were so high, she had to crane her neck up to see the top and almost lost her balance more times than she’d admit to. Some books were torn or half-eaten by mice, soot-stained or with missing their spines, others were brand new and carefully ordered by author and date. And everywhere the dry scent of paper mixed with the faintest bit of charcoal, a good indication that she was in the right place. Which might sound confusing to some: what kind of princess would willingly seek out a dragon? But she was desperate, and desperate times called from desperate measures. Crazy measures, some might even say. 

Now that she was deep into the beast’s lair, she was faced with two issues. One, for all her planning, she hadn’t come up with a solution to prevent the dragon from killing her without hearing her plea. She had a proposition for the creature, one that required some explaining, and she could hardly do so once reduced to a fuming pile of ashes. She had thought she’d come up with something eventually, but as her twenty-first birthday grew closer things accelerated, and now she was here, with no idea how to speak with such a being. Maybe she should send words in advance? Did Dragons get mail? And If so, who would be brave enough to deliver such correspondence? There wasn't any protocol on how to converse with a dragon. She was taught how to politely greet foreign emissaries, but somehow her etiquette lesson didn’t cover “how to greet a mighty dragon without being toasted”. Clearly a gap in her royal education. Most people - knights in search of gold and glory - marched into a dragon’s lair with two goals in mind: kill the beast and steal its treasure. They either succeeded or died, adding to the long list of nameless fools no one remembered. There was hardly any tale of them having a civil conversation with the beast. 

And either way, if she knew how to politely engage the Azure dragon, she would first need to find him. One would think a creature this size would be easy to spot, but so far she only passed by empty rooms (saves for the mountains of books) and deserted halls. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the place to be abandoned.

As she continued her discovery of the underground palace, she stepped inside a dimly lit room, more vast than the rest, that looked like a library. There had been books in every room she visited so far, but this one looked like it was meant to hold paper and manuscript. It was dark, save for the few candles and the fire roaring in the hearth.

“Excuse me.” She called out to the shadows, not expecting an answer. She had been doing so in every room, and only got an eerie silence as a reply. So when the shadows moved in a corner of the room, she nearly jumped out of her skin. The shadow was in fact a man sitting in a chair with a heavy book in his hands. Her heart was in her throat, and it took her a few minutes to regain her composure. 

“Forgive my intrusion,” she started, “I'm looking for the Azure dragon.” 

The man barely lifted his eyes from the books to give her the most unimpressed look. He was handsome, almost painfully so: silver-white hair, high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut through glass. But his most striking features were his eyes: icy blue, pupils slit in the middle. And then everything clicked: the hair, the pointed ears, the haughty look... 

“You're one of the Elezens” she whispered dumbfounded, “It was said that your race had passed into legend.” “Sorry to disappoint.” 

Panic ran through her, insulting the very being she had come to beg for help was a mistake, insulting one of the Elezens was a death sentence. She quickly dipped in a graceful bow, knees almost touching the ground, and lowered her head as much as her spine would allow. 

“Forgive me, your grace, I spoke out of turn.”

She did not dare look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She could sense his disdain and perhaps a hint of curiosity. She kept her head low and her knees bent, waiting for him to speak, to dismiss her, or worse, to kill her. Her muscles screamed at her, and she secretly thanked her mother for her rigorous etiquette lessons. Lya might look frail and delicate, but she could curtsy for hours, her body well-trained to the princessly art of lowering oneself (literally) to please powerful men.

“Sit.” He finally said. “And pray tell, why is a princess seeking me out. That ought to be an interesting tale.”

For a brief moment, as she sat opposite him, nervousness overwhelmed her. Her hand clenched into her skirt, her fingers tugging at the fabric. She had not planned for this, hadn’t even considered the possibility, his kind was supposed to be extinct. This changed everything. Elezen were stronger than most dragons, smarter too. Knights didn’t kill Elezens, they simply ceased to exist; or hid in the heart of a snowy mountain, it would seem. Still, she couldn’t help but stare, he looked so… human.  

“Speak.” He ordered, “all the fidgeting and staring is deeply annoying.” “I’m sorry, your grace, I expected you to be…” “Taller?” “Bluer actually, with more scales perhaps?” “I can hardly read with a full set of claws,” he pointed out with a haughtily condescending tone.   

She swallowed heavily and nodded.  She had been willing to face a beast breathing fire, surely she could converse with a man reading a book. She hadn’t escaped her father’s dungeon and portaled all the way up north to give up now. She brushed off her skirt, took a deep breath and raised her head to meet his gaze. 

“I've come to request the honor of being your captive.” Words stumbled out of her mouth so fast she wasn’t sure she had been intelligible.  “Do I look that feeble that you’d rather be my prisoner than some baron’s wife?” He said, weary and just a little bit sharp. “Do you not fear me?” “I do, very much fear you, your grace. Even more so now that I know of your true lineage. But I wish to live, and being held captive, given the proper circumstances, seems rather small compared to losing my life.” “I don't follow.” “I was born under the blood moon, your grace…” 

She didn’t finish her sentence, didn’t need to, they both knew what it meant. Silence stretched between them, only broken by the sound of a log cracking in the fireplace. When the dragon spoke again his voice wasn’t thunderous nor loud, it wasn’t “ dragon-like ”; it was soft, barely a whisper, with a hint of sadness to it, and something else. Empathy? Pity? Most people pitied her. 

“I didn’t realize humans still followed the old ways. And they call us beasts… Very well, I can see how this agreement would benefit you, but what's in it for me?” “It is my understanding that a dragon’s reputation among his peers is correlated to the size of his hoard and his ability to keep a princess captive.” She started, glad her voice didn’t betray any of her fear. “Your hoard is rumored to be quite impressive, but you never…” 

She hesitated for a while, she needed to be careful with her words, she had insulted him once, it would be a mistake to do it again, dragons weren’t known for being magnanimous. Still, there wasn’t exactly a pleasant term to describe the situation, ‘prisoner’ seemed a bit excessive considering she was offering to be locked away in a tower of her own free will. Well, maybe not locked away, and there was no tower…but ‘guest’ would be most inappropriate. Hosts had duties towards their guests, she could not insinuate that he’d owe her anything. 

“You’ve never ‘harbored’ a princess before”, she finally settled on. “I suppose you find the task bothersome, fending off knights can be quite tiring, believe me, I know.” 

He laughed, barely a huff, but she heard it, and she liked it. It spurred her on, and she smiled in return. Maybe their shared disdain for knights could bring them to a quid pro quo. 

“I'm the thirteenth princess of the sand kingdom, hardly the golden prize, and even if a knight wanted to risk it all, well, rumor has it your hoard is made of books…” she let her eyes wander around the room, her stare landing on yet a precarious tower of volumes, minutes away from collapsing on the ground. “Not exactly the type of treasure knights tend to seek out. They're not very well-read. So you see, this agreement would benefit both of us.”  

His eyes narrowed at her as he studied her. His stare was neither cold nor disdainful, but calculating. He was appraising her, measuring her worth and deciding whether she was worth the hassle; and for those interminable seconds, she held her breath in anticipation of his response. 

“I can clean too. And sing.” She hastened to add. “I'm fairly good at enchanting animals. I could sing the rats away from your books.” 

He huffed once more, amused at her outburst.  

“No need to oversell it, Princess. You have yourself a deal.”

[trekkele]

Pre-canon Azula assassinates Ozai and frames Iroh for it?

Wow y’all really have me entirely figured out today. This is also less about that and more about…idk even.

“In the beginning,” Ursa said, sweeping the flame from the candle into the palm of her hand, guiding it counterclockwise with her finger, “when the fire benders where only dragons and the people huddled cold at the base of their mountain, the first snow fell. The people could not understand the ice that fell from the heavens, grey clouds hiding Agni from them.”

The tiny flame burst into sparks, drifting slowly down to her palm. Azula wondered if her eyes were as wide as Zukos, as bright with the flames' reflection.

“But in this village there was a girl, whose eyes had long been turned to the top of the mountain, who’s heart held a coiling flame” her mother traced a heart with two fingers, and the flame followed. “She did not fear the snow, or the cold it brought, but rather the way her people had lost their fire in the face of Agnis Shrouds.”

“And so she began the trek up the mountain, passing by the frozen stream and the trees bowed under ice, until she could see her village, tucked into the whitened valley, spread below her feet. And she sat down to wait.”

“Wait?” Azula asked, lip curling. “I thought she wanted to find a dragon? What use is waiting.”

Ursa smiled, tiny flame dancing, running up and down her palm as her fingers guided it. “The dragon was not used to strangers on their mountain. The girl knew they would see her, and come. Knowing how and when to strike,” the flames seemed to burn deep in Ursa’s eyes as Azula watched it form a tiny dagger, “is just as important as knowing where.”

Zuko gasped as the dagger flame changed to a bow flinging arrows, two swords crossed, and finally a vial dripping flame.

“And when the dragon came, the girl was still warm, and rested, and had arranged herself as though they sat in the finest sitting room, silks and tea,” Azula pulled a face that made her mother’s shoulders shake, the flame between them flickering, “and mochi all before them.” Azula grinned even as Zuko snickered. Mochi was a much better diplomatic tool than tea, even if tea was traditional.

“The dragon landed softly in the snow, settling in with wings tucked behind them. “You do not belong here” they said, rumbling like an earthen flame* and breathing colored sparks to the air. “And yet I am here.” the girl said.

The dragon glared at her, fierce and foreign. It was odd to see anger in the face of a serpent. The girl did not shake, or apologize. “Why.” the dragon swept their tail over the ground, snow piling on either side of its path, “Why have you climbed this mountain”

The flame in Ursas palm grew wings, rising slowly between them, “My people grow weak with fear. Agni has been hidden to us for the weeks of this storm and they fear or spirit has grown angry, or distant.” The dragon huffed, disdain dripping like flames from their fangs. “Did not the Great Sun bless you with fire? Do not your veins flow like the blood from a Sparked Mountaintop?” the girl still not shake. “The turtle lions blessed us with Agni’s spark, but we do not know how to use it.” she said, hands folded in her lap. The fabric of her coat was warm with her anger, but the dragon could not see the heat of her palms. He could not hear the anger in her voice.

“What the spirits did or did not give you is none of my concern, now leave me. I must return to my hoard.” Ursa lowered her voice when she spoke for the dragon, rumbling with something below her tongue. Zuko shuffled closer to Azula, who leaned closer into him.

“Your hoard?” The girl asked “are gold and coloured stones so precious that you would deny the chance to become the first master to a new class of student?” the dragon laughed. “What foolish stories do you tell of us? My hoard are my children in their eggs, and my hoard is my family. I would deny the chance to become legend for them.”

“The girl was clever, and quick, and stood before their wings could unfold. “My hoard is dying.” the dragon paused. “My hoard is dying and I am here to teach how to live.”

The dragon shook out their wings, rising to their full height and glaring down. The snow had begun to fall again, and if the girl closed her eyes, she thought she could smell the smoke from her village, the panicked silent breaths of people who could not see the sun. “I cannot leave my hoard.”

“I can.” the girl said, standing in the snow, praying to a spirit buried in clouds. “For as long as I need to.”

“Why you, little spark-bender?” the dragon said finally, their student starting to shiver.

The girl did not rejoice in her success. There was never a place for failure in her plans. “Someone had to.” she shrugged, and followed the first dragon master up the mountain.”

Ursa let the flame in palm burn down, placing it gently back to the week when it was no more than a spark.

“What happened to the village?” Zuko demanded, hands around his knees.

“The girl came back and taught them how to fire bend, using what the master showed her. Once they could learn to manipulate their chi, the villagers always felt where Agni was, and always knew they were close to them.”

“What happened to the girl.” Azula did not demand an answer. She did expect one.

“Well, the legend says she traveled to other villages and taught them to fire bend as well. And once she settled down, her children became great and powerful benders, till Agni blessed on with the wisdom to unite our people. But now,” Ursa waved the candle shut, “it’s time for bed.”

—-—

Later, after Azula learns what burnt skin smells like, how the ashes taste on her tongue, Iroh stands next to her in the garden.

The guards are uneasy. They are unnecessary too, but Azula will make allowances for their skittishness.

No one trained them to fight dragons, after all.

“Why.” Iroh asks, and Azula is tempted. It would be so easy to crack, right here, and scream her grievances to the world. To the sun, its chosen heir lying burnt on white sheets, fists clenched around his loyalty and heart weeping.

Why. She thinks instead of a girl, and a mountain, and facing a monster that is suddenly an ally in the face of greater threats.

She thinks of a heart, filled with coiling flames.

“Someone had to.” She says, eyes turned towards the sun. It winks lower over the caldera cliffs, sky clear and blue.

—-—

She never tells him how it easy it actually was.

Her Uncle does not want to know.

—-—

Ursa does not ask Why. Her mothers return to the palace is a quiet thing, hastened by the servants who remembered her and the courtiers who eyed the royal children with pity and unease.

Zuko uses their pity. Azula uses the unease. They want neither, but they will not waste what is given.

Ursa does not ask. She sits in the garden, lets Azula huff and throw scrolls and braids little twists in her hair till it is piled like black silk on her head.

Once, she holds Azula's hands in her own, and lets a flame dance over their palms. “My only regret,” she says, eyes steady even as the wind sweeps between them, “is that you did what I did not.”

“Would you have?” Azula does not want the answer. She needs it, desperately, but she doesn't want it.

“If I had known half of what he would become, the sun would not have risen on him after your first breath.”

Ursa does not ask. She does not push. And she does not expect Azula to mourn her actions.

Azula is not surprised. No one ever expects a dragon in a woman’s skin.

But she's since learned to see the glint of fangs in her mothers smile. She sees it in the mirror, after all.

[send me an ask of ‘I wish you would write’ with a story idea and ill react. I’m very suggestible, clearly]

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: mild NSFW(kissing, implied), implied nocon, Lots of swearing, stupid insults, prostitution(?), slave/pet whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, panic attacks, insinuation of physical abuse, hair pulling, deshumanization;

Sorry if this one is too convoluted, I runned out of meds and the abstinence of them is weird, I just feel my head like it’s full of cotton today. Also, this perspective is trick to write a bit, his world is a little different. Thanks to everyone who is reading these, by the way (◕ܫ◕✿)

Part of:  Same as: one, two, three four and five 

there is this one here as well I just forgot to link 

order is wathever, although maybe reading five before this one would help.

That man touched his scars, running his fingers all over his back, pressing on the texture of the old whip marks. It took all he had not to turn around and kick his face. Instead, he turned and pulled the man into a kiss, forcing him to at least put his hands somewhere else.

Sometimes, he wished saliva could be venomous. That would be fun.

Snake. Pestilence. Venom, poison! the darkness cries. Well, he has a serpent-soul. It’s tiny, but furious, and hoards gold with the same intent as a dragon would. It’s hiding now. It doesn’t want to be touched especially not by the soul of that old fucker.

The old fucker was followed by a tower-like creature, always too big for the room he was in. It had tentacles that spread just around everything, in search for absolute order and control. On the tower top, it had a glowing, all seeing-eye. Funny how despite appearances, that eye was almost blind, and could not find the serpent.

“Sweetheart, you were wonderful today”

The man smiled, tiny white teeth, some bathed on gold, as he leans in and caresses his cheeks, pulling the dark strains of hair out of his sweaty face.

Impure. Impure. Mess. Sinner.

“I’m glad I made a good impression.” He chuckles “But you… You are wonderful, every single time, darling”.

Wonderful… Yeah. That man is about as interesting as a bottle of hot dog water… But judging by the creature that follows him, at least he is pleased for today. The man kissed his forehead and gets up on his feet, searching for his robes.

Why is it always these type of people? No one else seems to like him. Not even tolerate him. But people like the old fucker like to keep him around, like their own personal freak. He can interact with them just fine, he can manipulate them… But he can barely talk to normal people.

They are bad too. Just like you.

Just like you.

Darkness screams… No. Shut up. I’m not this. I refuse to be like him.

“So, do you remember I said I had a gift for you?”

His snake gingerly puts its head out from the hiding spot, sliding up his body and rolling around his arms.

“How could I forget? You are always so good to me” Pay my bills old fucker. “And your gifts are the best”.

“I hope you like this one. It’s a bit different than the gifts I usually give you. A bit ragged as well… But still a very nice item” He moves out the door. Orfeu assumes it’s on the small office he has connected to the bedroom, but no, he leaves the chambers, closing the door, tower-like monster following. The room looks much more empty without that thing roaming around.

He gets into the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. So many mirror, so many expensive stuff, he thinks to himself, stealing a bit of cologne.

Monter.

Demon.

Impure.

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up- He looks angrily at his own back. He can still feel fingers there, tracing those fucking scars. He wanted to cover them up with tattoos, like he did with some of the others, but a full back tattoo would be. Too. Expensive. He needs to eat. Food money.

He could try and seduce one of the old fucker… But he doubted he could. He and his little friends enjoyed seeing scars on his back…. A reminder that he was inferior maybe.

Inferior.

Show them. Beat them into the ground. Let the darkness come.

“Shut up” he whispers to the mirror. Okay, apply some makeup again, fix the hair… And good to go again. Reptilian eyes stare at him through the mirror, his shadow-like soul sliding in and out of existence.

He goes back to sit on the bed, a bit bored. Why is it taking so long? He just wants to get whatever it is and go back home. This place is disgusting.

Loud noises downstairs, shouting, stuff falling. Oh. The old fucker is fighting with his son, who is the human embodiment of stubbing your toes on a table, with the additional of having the haircut of an Alpaca. 

Something heavy falling down, a muffled scream, steps on the stairway. Office door opens… Something hits the floor. Old fucker is back, with a nasty smile. His soul is disturbed and it doesn’t try to enter de bedroom this time. It stays back on the office.

“Hello again” he smiles, teeth just a bit too sharp.

“…Hm, sweet, tell me you have come to my parties before, haven’t you?”

Yeah of course. And stood by the corners while most of his guests stared at him like he was monster or a piece of meat, at least until the old fucker called him so he could show off his personal little freak.

Freak, freak, those people thought. Uncanny, go away.

Or alternatively, that they needed to have him, to control him, to show who really is the monster.

Joke was on them, because it was a great occasion to pickpocket, these parties.

“Of course I have darling. It’s such an honor to be there!”

The old fucker’s smile is unusual, something like someone making a commercial of toothpaste on gun-point.

Controlling, all-consuming, Danger danger.

“Well, you remember my little songbird?”

…Something the old fucker liked to display even more. The young man was put on a sort of pedestal on the beginning of those parties, and would sing and perform gracefully to the guests, before coming to sit and serve his master. By later hours he was tossed around all the guests, and when the party was over, there wasn’t much left of him anymore.

“Sure. The one with the long white hair” He saw him sometimes, walking around the house, always following the dumb ass son of the old fucker. They never really interacted. “Your son’s pet. What about him?”

“Oh no. It’s not my son’s anymore.”

He frowns, and the old fucker’s grim widens. He gesticulate for Orfeu to follow him into the office, where… The boy is there, shivering, covered in bruises and cuts. Ragged.

Fragile. Ice. Thin, thin ice.

…On no. Hell no. Please please no.

“-You…?”

Master grabs the boy’s hair and pulls him up, as he lets out a faint whimper. The boy’s soul… It’s keeling on the ground, but its arms, painfully long, too broken and mangled… They are strangling the boy right now. He can’t breathe right.

No.

Nononononononononononono.

“He is yours now, darling!”

Fear. Anxiety… Anger?

“Are you… giving me a person?”

Nope nope nope nope nope. Can’t interact. People don’t like me. He’ll be scared. He’ll be terrified. He will see me as monster. Won’t be able to help. No nononon.

…He bites his own cheek so much it draws blood. Calm the fuck down. Keep the façade.

“Oh, no darling” the man chuckles “It’s not a person, it’s a pet. Remember how you told me you wanted some company, but you can’t have animals at home? They are scared of you or something, you said. Well, this one is perfect, I’m sure. He won’t dare run away.”

The man comes closer, dragging the poor boy to his feet, with that nasty, nasty smile. That’s why his controlling tower-soul stood back, keeping those arms and tentacles wrapped around the boy’s soul.

“Little songbird here needs a home. He doesn’t sing anymore… So I don’t really have a use for it. He would be very happy to go with you, wouldn’t you?”

He pulls his hair again, so hard he lets out a whimper. The crooked soul mimics its owner to perfection, the tentacles of the old bastard all over it.

“-Y..Ah-“ he shrieks, shivers, raises his head so the tears don’t roll down.

“…He doesn’t talk much anymore. But then again, dogs don’t either” He sighs “I wanted him to be clean of fresh wounds when you took him, but my son got his hands on him somehow.”

Somehow. The soul shivers. The boy cries.

“Well… I know it’s a bit sudden, but it’s your choice after all. You want him? He can clean, cook, do some stuff for you.”

Say no say no say no say so you can’t do this wtf this is wrong and bad and you can’t take of him you can’t barely take care of yourself it will be worse if you don’t he will be killed or tortured that’s not fair it’s not his fault it wasn’t your fault he deserves better than you he won’t get any chance-

“Of course I want him.”

Panic panic – don’t. Don’t panic. Fuck this.

You wanted someone in the darkness for you, and no one ever came… So be the person. Be there.

“Good!” Old fucker says, too loud “Aren’t you happy, songbird? I won’t have to dispose of you after all”

The poor thing tries to answer but can’t. And he noticed how old fucker moves, about to smack the boy, so, on a swift movement, Orfeu  falls to his knees and cups his hands around the boy’s face. Old fucker crosses his arm instead.

“It’s okay if he can’t answer. I’m a quiet guy, believe it or not!” he chuckles “Is just you… that makes me want to talk so much, dear! I’m only chatty around you, cause you have so many nice things to say…”

…Like bragging about his stocks and finances and complaining about being a failure of a father who raised a monster. The usual.

“Well… That’s good to know, I’m special to you!” old fucker smiles victoriously “If it does happen that the pet sings again, make sure to tell me, I’d like to hear”.

Yeah, sure. Like hell he would.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

13 or 21 for the affection prompts? :3

*gasp* Hulloooo! I didn't forget about youuuuu! >:3 Mainly, I had to sit on this because there was no idea within my head, but I got one finally~! So, let me WRITE IT!

Anybody ever wanted to see how Fane gets when he actually gets drunk? OH YES. Pair that with Solas getting slightly drunk and we have two fools being MORE foolish than ever before! AHAHAH! >:D

***

21. laughing at their jokes - (aka Fane likes puns)

"The ceiling is..", Fane trailed off as he laid on the floor in the suite that had been afforded to him and Solas in the Winter Palace. Each of the members of Inquisition had been given a room as 'thanks' for saving Orlais, as well as endless, endless access to the cellars and he had indulged, staring at the posh ceiling above and tracing patterns he could see shifting like the sky did on occasion. It was disorienting, but he felt too warm, too relaxed to really care.

As did one other, who was no better than he was, having been goaded by Fane to indulge as well, but they were situated on the silk covered bed, on their stomach, gazing down at him with a pleased, amused smirk and a lightly flushed visage. However, Fane was so preoccupied watching the dancing wall that he didn't have time to admire the sky, but he could hear it and it was a lovely, lovely sound.

"The ceiling is..?", Solas prompted, speech slow, but still oddly in control, just more relaxed, more light.

Fane blinked a few times, mind trying to piece together what was spinning before him. The ceiling was... He didn't know, actually. It was hot. He was hot. Why was he hot? Why was the ceiling shifting? Why did he feel like he could fly? Ohhh, he drank too much, but didn't care, so he just spewed out the first thing to pop up into his liquor addled brain.

"...Orlesian.", Fane finally said, pointing with a flailing arm to the entire expanse at the ornate detailing that was so painfully, painfully grotesque in its opulence. "Orlesiiian. Ugh.", he reiterated, making a face at the word. He hated Orlais. Had he mentioned that before? No? Well, he did. Icky lions and...machinations that were what the shitty elves of Arlathan had played with.

And one of them was now laughing, but they weren't shitty. Never. Never, never, never. They were the sky, free and beautiful, and he had to look at it. Fane turned his head towards the laughter tickling his heart to gaze upon his sky, a smirk working its way onto his face as he took in the carefree appearance of Solas, cheeks flushed, sky-like eyes bright, and once prim and proper attire loose and wild as a wolf should be. Guess he wasn't the only one to have drank a bit too much. Not that he was complaining. He liked this view of the sky.

"Careful, vhenan.", Solas warned between chuckles, reaching down to where Fane was laying to poke at his nose and smirking when he elicited a tiny growl. "Say 'Orlesian' one too many times and you will sum..", he paused, looking up for a moment as if to think before pale blue shone with wisdom, continuing. "..summon the Empress, or rather, Emperor, I suppose."

Fane snorted. "Ohhh, no, no, no. Gashhh..Gas..pard..Gaspard! That's the name! I got it!", he exclaimed with a wave of hand, watching with bubbling amusement as Solas bit into his bottom lip, snorting a bit. "Gaspard is a Empress because of Briala. I made that happen. I'm clever. Big dragon brain." The words becoming more slurred, more haphazard as more warmth numbed his mind into a pleasant lull. How many bottles of wine did he have again? Fifteen?

...Twenty? He had to have a very high tolerance because that shit had been weak, not kicking in until he and Solas had retired, or well, closed the door. They weren't sleeping any time soon with the way his sky was snorting and chuckling like a fool, but he was a beautiful, beautiful fool. A premium one. A majestic one.

Solas let out another snort, face occasionally scrunching from mirth. "Ma'isenatha, I believe you are drunk~", he teased, scooting along the bed to actually ruffle at Fane's hair with a carefree smirk. Fane let out a literal groan of happiness at that touch, staring up at that the pair of eyes staring down at him, albeit upside down. The sky was perfect either way.

"Uh-uh.", Fane denied, shaking his head but stopped when the world spun more than it was already. "You're drunk. You're cheeks are all...eh." He reached up with a hand of his own to poke at a flush cheek, snorting loudly as Solas let out a snort of his own before it dissolved into quiet giggling. The sound had Fane's mouth going agape. "Holy shit, he's a giggler! The legends a true! And Varric owes me fifty sovereigns! Yesh!" Why did that make him so happy? He was loaded already, but hah! He won!

"I..I am not..pfft!", Solas tried to deny but only went back to drunkenly snorting and giggling, head going limp to rest against the foot of the bed's frame.

Fane felt a smile burst forward onto his face, actively springing up into a sitting position to point triumphantly at...well, he didn't know! He was just incredibly rallied by his victory!

"My treasure hoard grows!", Fane exclaimed as he rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees with both arms and scooting to where Solas was still chortling like a literal child, pointed ears as flushed as his face.

The sight of such tempting triangles had Fane smirking like a fool as he leaned down to nip at one, growling playfully. This night was finally proving to be worth all the bullshit as Solas let out a choked gasp, head snapping up to look at him, eyes bright with blue and grey and mouth split into a wide smirk of confidence and just as much playful abandon.

Fane leaned in more, resting their foreheads together with a smirk. "See?", he inquired, quickly nipping at a pointed nose and smirking even more when a growl left his sky like thunder. "Oooo, the wolf has deigned me with his presence~"

Solas chuckled, deep and oh so dangerously, but it only made Fane want to draw them out more, pressing their foreheads together more, delving into eyes that spoke a thousand words of a thousand lifetimes. Solas' hands came up to hold him in place, propping himself up on his elbows to bring himself even closer to where Fane was now leaning against the foot of the bed, casual as can be, relaxed due to the essence flowing through his blood. One day, he hoped that this was how it could always be, alcohol or no.

...Especially if he could witness more smiles from the one who had brought one back to his own face. Though, right now, it was a smirk, a lovely, lovely smirk of youth and shamelessness. And the words that spilled from those wolfish lips had Fane dying.

"You could say this one is...dreadful, hm?", Solas drawled, but hints of lavender were laughing within pale blue and hazy grey.

"Pffft!", Fane snorted before actively beginning to laugh, giggling in his own right and disconnecting their foreheads to let his head fall into his arms against the ornate bed frame. "Ahahah! D..Dreadful! I..I get it because..pfffft!"

He heard Solas let out a fond chuckle, seemingly trying not to let the infection of his laughter send him spiraling into his own again. Dreadful! Why was that so funny?! Dreadful, hah!

...Oh, he was drunk. Yes, yes he was, but he didn't care!

A light, but sharp nip to his own pointed ear had Fane's laughter stuttering with a low snarl, picking his head up a bit with a smirk to glare with heated embers into the sky smirking back at him, eyes alight with the same fire he could feel coursing through his veins. The wolf wanted to play, did he? Oh, they would play, but as the dragons did, untamed and uncut.

"Hmm, it would appear the dragon has deigned me with his presence this eve.", Solas practically purred, a few fingers ghosting along Fane's jawline, making him shiver with a chuckling sigh. "Should I be leery of its gaze?"

Fane hummed, leaning forward and snarling low as Solas teasingly leaned back, smirking like the wolf he embodied. So that's how the sky wished to play? To make its reach unattainable? That wouldn't do because dragons were meant to fly within its expanse.

..And he would be in his sky by the top of the hour, so deep as to shatter its own Veil between the real and the imaginable.

"Not at all.", Fane drawled, slowly and surprisingly, steadily rising to his full height to practically rip into black velvet and gold silk that was his personal attire with one hand, undoing buttons and buckles with deftness despite his drunken state. His gaze sharpened with acute awareness as Solas only rested his chin into one of his hands, knees bent, elbows resting upon them as he watched him perform.

"Should I be leery of its strength, then?", Solas inquired, eyes glued to him, unashamed, enraptured with each layer of finery that was discarded with patience, as if they had all the time in the world once again. "Its tenacity? Its passion?" Every question uttered stoked the fires, made them blaze as Fane shrugged of his jacket, having opted not to wear his wraps as the formal attire had down a good job of covering him, but he had brought them for battle.

Fane shook his head, smirking even as his body was on full display, scars and all. He felt no pain, no wariness as liquid courage numbed both his mind and physical form. And it helped when his sky only reflected interest and no judgement, blue-grey orbs slowly roaming up and down his body, legs shifting against the silken sheets with anticipation, but trying to keep it subtle for a shred of propriety. He tsked, meandering his way around to the side where Solas was closest. Now, that wouldn't do. Guess he would have to...

...intervene.

"No to all of those questions, my sky.", Fane growled as he brought one knee up to rest upon the bed, reaching down with one hand to flick the clasp on his belt, unlocking it, but not unraveling it just yet. He growled once more as Solas continued to watch him, calmly, playfully, goading him with the blue that harnessed those emotions.

Solas hummed. "Then what should I be leery of, my dragon?", he asked casually before Fane struck, tackling the man onto the mattress with a snarl and a smirk. His sky let out a grunt of surprise, but easily fell into this familiar beat, reaching up to run his hands lightly along his bare arms, shivers rising in their wake, pain of scars forgotten due to the heat building between them.

Fane gazed down with hooded eyes, pleased and pleasant. "You should be leery of...", he began, leaning down to nip at an exposed neck, sliding a hand up to delicately run it down the side he was not beginning to kiss. A new heat was infecting his mind now. It was heady. It was hotter than any blazing flame. It was incandescent as Solas bore himself to him, tilting his head to allow him more access, even as words hung in the air.

Fane continued his ministrations, kissing, stroking, and teasing with his lips and hand upon a fluttering neck, but something else fluttered and it was within him that it did. It was light, airy, and...ridiculous, but he found himself saying it nonetheless. The wine was still in effect after all. He pulled back a bit, one of Solas' hands digging into a forearm, blue eyes hazy, but curious as to why he stopped.

"Fane?", his sky questioned, but Fane only snorted as he nuzzled into the neck he had just been assaulting with passion and fire. "Fane, what--"

"You know, I just had a thought.", Fane said, humming happily into the crook of Solas' neck; his sky only letting out a disbelieving chuckle and a content sigh at his shift.

"Just the one?"

"Ass.", Fane bit with no venom, but snorted as the thought popped back in like a curious spirit. "You want to hear it or not?"

"Go on.", Solas said around a hum, hand beginning to hum through his hair slowly, tenderly, the other tracing light patterns along his back, following the path of a few scars he knew were there, but that didn't bother Fane as he started to giggle like an idiot.

"Well...", Fane started, lifting his head a bit to gaze down into curious, amused orbs, a smile greeting him with equal lightness embedded in its curves. "I just realized, I'm a dragon..."

Solas nodded. "You are, and...?", he prompted, quirking an eyebrow with that same smirk.

"I'm getting there! Sheesh..", Fane said with a slight pout before snorting again. "I'm a dragon and you're the sky to me. Guess what that means?" He waggled his eyebrows a bit, biting into his bottom lip at his brilliant revelation! He was, indeed, a clever dragon! Decider of empires! Gazer of mankind!

Solas blinked, eyebrows drawing together before blue widened and a good natured, but exasperated groan left his smirking lips.

"Vhenan, do not--"

"Ready for a dragon to be inside of you, my sky?", Fane asked with giddiness, snorting and chuckling like the fool that he was. He was so smart! So smart!

"You are dreadful.", Solas quipped back between his own chuckling and snorts, face twisting with mirth before it broke; the two of them busting out into drunken, light laughter at the terrible, terrible humor they both possessed.

They were both dreadful, dreadful, and dreadful, but they didn't care when the world seemed small and their problems smaller amid echoes of empires and twinkling gold.

***

They're idiots, Your Honor. This is a fact that cannot be denied nor rejected. However, it can be acquitted for they are in LOVE!! *dinosaur screech of LOVE*

I hope you enjoyed it! <3

[toloveawarlord]

25 Days of Christmas Day 20

Characters: Aster, Jonah Clemence, Edgar Bright, Lancelot Kingsley, Zero, Kyle Ash

Prompt: “Where did you get that tree?”

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @christmaswarlock @sakura-1819 @starry-starry-night24 @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @thewitchofbooks @stardust-dreamer13 @ikemensengokufangirl @gay-noodle-clan @nad-zeta @canaria-blackwell @lordsister​ @hamster-damn​

A/N: This was supposed to Aster and the RA but it turned into mostly Jonah and Aster. She’s closest to our lovely Queen, but she won’t admit it. He’s so soft for her.

No one would actually be brave enough to complain to the Queen of Hearts when he'd so graciously taken them out to buy a brand new dress. But Aster was not no one. She sat sideways in the plush maroon chair outside of the changing room, legs dangling over the arm. Kicking her bare feet, she groaned for the fifth time. "Jonah, this is so boring. Can we go now?"

A perfectionist to his core. He'd tried on almost every shirt in the shop, searching for the best one. "First you complain about being stuck in headquarters, then you complain when I graciously bring you along with me into town. Be grateful for my endless generosity."

Aster stuck her tongue out in his direction, not caring that he couldn't actually see her. Rolling off the chair, she moved to the full mirror, taking in her image.

"Did you settle on a dress?"

Natural white hair covered with a raven wig, to hide her identity as best they could.

The deep crimson dress was the softest material she'd ever felt. Delicate lace layered over the skirt that brushed just above her knees. The top hooked around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare.

Not something she ever imagined herself in.

"I guess so," she answered. One of the shelves caught her eye. A small potted Christmas tree sat alone on a shelf; all the bigger ones having been purchased.

Crimson irises checked for any employees. An opportunity has arisen and she took it. Plucking the plant from the shelf, she moved to stash it in her purse...

The same moment Jonah pushed the curtain open, having chosen his new shirt. "Aster, where did you get that tree?" Her silence only confirmed his suspicion. “You were going to steal it, weren’t you?”

Maybe,” the teenager muttered, tucking the small tree against her chest and turning away. It belonged with her. No one was going to buy such a small and fragile little tree. “It’s not like they’ll miss it.”

 He’d begun to get used to her childish behavior. There were many occasions where items in headquarters had gone missing and later were found in her bedroom. He should reprimand her, but instead, he placed a gentle hand on her head. “I’ll purchase it for you, along with the dress. Gather your things.”

Aster snatched her purse from the floor, and slipped on her shoes. Her head swam with confusion. Jonah had a strong sense of right and wrong, but he gave no lecture. She silently trailed behind him.

With their items purchased, the pair returned to headquarters. By the time they’d reached her room, Aster was boiling with anxiety. Stealing came as easily as breathing to her, so why did she feel so bad about getting caught over this stupid little thing?

Maybe it was more guilt than sadness. Somehow, no lecture was worse than receiving one. He’d looked at her with such a kind expression, and then bought it for her.

“We’ll be leaving for the party now. Please try to behave while we’re gone,” Jonah said, finding at least three stolen items from his room alone. She was like a dragon from a fairy tale, hoarding treasures. He lingered a moment longer, but she refused to respond, tending to the little tree instead.

Aster only lifted her gaze when he’d gone, unable to voice her objection to their leaving... his leaving.

                                             << << <<

It bothered him the entire evening. Jonah wouldn’t say he enjoyed these kinds of events. Every year, the Red Army hosted a holiday party for the elites in Red Territory, mostly family of army members or those who made sizable donations. It lasted far too long, in his opinion.

But that was far from his mind. He couldn’t stop remembering how dejected Aster had been after she’d tried to steal that cheap tree. Perhaps all his guidance had begun to pay off. His head shook, not satisfied with that conclusion.

“You’re thinking way too hard over here. Have a drink, and maybe some fun while you’re at it!” Kyle slapped his hand on Jonah’s shoulder, utterly intoxicated himself. He awkwardly slipped into the chair at the table, nearly falling off the other side if not for Edgar’s assistance.

“He’s quite right about the sour expression. What’s bothering our dear Queen tonight?” The teasing his tone only irritating Jonah more, but Zero and King Lancelot had joined the group, all concerned about their friend.

Jonah drummed his fingers against the table. He shouldn’t be this worked up about her. “It’s nothing. Aster was not herself this evening.” Not entirely true. She almost resort to thievery.

It was Kyle who broke the silence first. “Do you think... hic... that maybe it has something to do with... hic... it being Christmas Eve? She’s probably always sad on holidays since, you know, she was hic-always alone.” He didn’t even realize what he’d said at first. His mouth moving before his brain could process whenever he had this much to drink.

And they all realized how foolish they’d been.

                                                  << << <<

The door to her bedroom was open, an unusual occurrence as the girl tended to be guarded. Jonah paused in the doorway. Aster hummed a familiar melody, sitting on the bench seat by the window. He couldn’t remember a time in the months that she’d been here that she’d ever hummed or sang.

In her lap sat the little tree, fully decorated with tiny ornaments and garland that she’d created from various materials in her room. That mischievous smile gone, replaced with a softer, more melancholic one. The words to an old Cradle Christmas song fell from her lips, a little broken and off pitch, like she struggled to sing the happy lyrics.

It had been nearly too dark in the dimly lit room, but the closer he got, the clearer the tears spilling from her eyes became.

Had she ever experienced a Christmas without sorrow and loneliness?

How must she have felt when he asked her to accompany him to town to shop for a party that she couldn’t attend? 

Jonah’s heart ached in his chest. He’d had such wonderful memories of when he and Luka were young. Without any thought, the Queen of Hearts had crossed the room and dropped to his knee, pulling the girl into a hug.

“J-Jonah? When did you get here? And why are you hugging me?” She sniffed, cover up the fact that she’d been crying. How long had he been in the room? Embarrassment flooded over her.

He’d couldn’t recall when he’d become so attached to her. The mouthy little teenager that always had a snarky comment to throw at him now so incredibly dear to him.

“I’m sorry, Aster. We... I  shouldn’t have left you here alone on Christmas Eve.” Jonah expected her to fight him, like she always did. But her hands clutched the back of his jacket, face tucked into his shoulder and she began to cry harder than before.

He’d forgotten that she was still just a child.

Jonah stayed with her until she’d calmed. There was one more order of business to attend to, and the others were likely wondering what was taking so long. “Come with me,” Jonah said, offering her his hand to escort her down to the dining hall.

Edgar and Zero had conspired to throw her a proper Christmas Eve party. With the help of Lancelot, they’d gotten quite the spread of food and desserts. Kyle raised his beer when the pair entered before promptly passing out in his chair.

With her emotions still running high, Aster turned on her heel to shield herself as more tears sprang to her eyes. She’d hated the holidays. They were cold, miserable, and utterly lonely. But this year, she found herself in a warm home with people who truly cared for her.

“Aww, is Aster crying cause she’s so happy? That’s adorable,” Edgar teased, sneaking up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist before using his free hand to tickle her side.

Laughter bubbled up, a smile finally settling on her features. “E-Edgar- Stop!” She struggled helplessly, jaws aching from her inability to stop laughing. She finally slipped free, darting across the room to hide behind Lancelot. Her tongue stuck out at the Jack.

“Alright, that’s enough. The food is going to get cold,” Lancelot ordered, chastising his third in command like a unruly child. He was grateful that in a few moments, her mood had lifted drastically.

The remainder of the evening was spent enjoying good food, and drinking for the adult, while the girl took paint to Kyle’s sleeping face.  Aster’s genuine smile worth all the strings they’d had to pull to make this evening happen. The teenage thief becoming the glue that held them all together.

[just-horrible-things]

Masterpost - Misc Writing

Things I have written on this blog that do not fit into any of my main stories, catalogued for my convenience and perhaps yours.

Falling 488 words How to mourn someone who has fallen from the Edge of the world

Night Without End 480 words Atmospheric, invitation to a world without sunrise

The Pursuit Of Understanding 719 words Engineered vampire studies medicine via a hands-on approach

The Dragon And The Musician 1071 words A musician is kept as part of a dragon’s hoard

The Spider’s Door 2455 words Cultist Simulator fanfic, a woman muses on her occult mistakes and their consequences

Phoenix 674 words Rebirth through flame

Blood By Moonlight 1,126 words A clawed, fanged monster hunts his nemesis across the junkyard

Seven Cages 822 words Seven caged prisoners play “In my grandmother’s shopping basket...”

Red Bracelet Please 354 words Attending whumper’s soiree as a whumper without intending to be one

Flotsam 416 words Monologue on the inhuman callousness of the sea

Cancer 517 words Nuclear horror. In the aftermath of the bombs, everyone has cancer.

Spite And Cold Water 2,051 words Forced to tread water in the dark inside a large water tank.

The Murder of Mara 321 words A family accused of allowing their grandmother to starve.

Cob And The River 1,361 words A man learns why he cannot cross the same river twice.

Cob’s Revenge 349 words Revenge fails to free a man from his ghosts

I Can Still Fight 2,762 words Soldier in a foreign jungle finds that he cannot die

Feeding The Dogs 648 words In the aftermath of a remote facility’s destruction, a surviving employee shares what little food she has with the dogs

Mind If I Cut In? 539 words Mistress-at-arms intercepts a suspicious young lady during a ballroom dance

I Don’t Want To 396 words BBU training. A reluctant pet learns to dissociate. Forcefeeding. Implied noncon.

Not Dead Yet? 343 words Mercenary provides perfunctory first aid to a collateral casualty

Beg To Differ 379 words Caged rebel defies captor even in defeat

Let Me Carry You 1,437 words Shen and her mother face the end of the world together

Don’t Hold Your Breath 347 words Kidnappee is probably a terrible person

Trust Doesn’t Enter Into It 392 words Pillow talk between dangerous people

The Storm To Come 563 words Top down view of a battle and the start of an invasion

Family 1169 words Career criminal sits a man down with a cup of chamomile tea

Dyad - 1, 2 2376 words Immortal tortured by his nemesis, Cultist Simulator fanfic

Did That Hurt? 517 words Demon hunter catches his prey

Can’t Sleep Like That 561 words Angst over unnamed character being unable to sleep in the bed with his partner

At Attention 2,819 words Soldier is left standing at attention overnight

Sky Stories Lean Times - 564 words Battle at the Empyrean - 491 words Tiny Sunless Skies fanfics

Atna 4,225 words Soldier in a fantasy setting brings a foreigner back to her camp to keep him from freezing to death. Both are quarantined, but he receives medical help.

Waiting for the High Hunt 1,896 words Cultist brings food for a prisoner who will be hunted as prey on the full moon.

Zack Marsh - 1, 2 1,504 words A phonecall from a life he thought he’d put behind him plunges Zack back into a criminal underworld

World Aflame - 1/10, 2/8, 3/5, tbc 4,279 words Science-fantasy revolution

Prisoner of War - 1, 2 1,984 words Defiant prisoner chooses dignity over amenities

Daphne’s Wings 1,695 words Angel wings are grafted onto a human’s back, in an age before anaesthesia

Feral Weapon 470 words Cyborg subdued by full system overrides

Nightmares 892 words Unseen overseers keep captive workers in line with the threat of nightmares

Masks 1,000 words Strangers flirt at a party

Barbed Wire Gag 325 words Description of damage done

Hibernation 1,433 words If humans hibernated, and could be forced into hibernation

Stitches 731 words Torturer stitches captive’s eyes closed

Ceasing to Be 579 words Condemned criminal’s execution by airlock, reflecting on identity and regret

Enthralled 716 words Telepath confronted about an infatuation

Halcyon Days 1,122 words Lives fallen to pieces after too much of the sex, drugs and music lifestyle

Camilla - 1, 2, 3, 4 3,791 words Inhuman protagonist shaped by the perceptions of others

Strain 7K 805 words Hero goes to villain for help after contracting deadly engineered plague

Weapon 1,747 words The making of a cyborg assassin, from childhood to escape

Tables Turn - 1, 2 2,037 words Revenge whump: first one way, then the other

Linked 1,278 words Thought-sharing telepaths get into a fight with aggressive soldiers

Sick At Night 489 words Unspecified illness causes nightmares, dysregulated temperature and nausea

Masterpost updated 05/10/2023

[mocoat]

Ok, first actual post so if anything’s wrong or weird just tell me.

So this is my oc, Ellina Gold-Claw in a thing I’m writing. I’ve been writing random stuff in a google doc to try and keep to her character and I thought it be interesting to post.

Tiny Bosmer, itty bitty baby that will rip your tongue out and feed it to you if you ask if she knows any recipes for people.

She’s not that short tho, about 5 3’. Tall for a Bosmer. Gets it from her literal 7 foot tall Atmoran descent father.

Has bright blue eyes that turn gold when using the Thu’um.

Mums a Bosmer and dads a Nord. Both live in the Imperial city, mom is the head of the Penitus Oculatus and dad is the Archmage of the Arcane University. Writes them letters and maybe she’ll visit on Odah. Dads a softy, moms the badass.

Her dad, Eris Gold-Claw II, is 7 foot 1’ and hella intimidating. Towers over the tallest Altmer (6ft 5’- 6 ft 8 is my kinda canon for them.) and is best friends with Mead. He is a Master in Conjuration, Illusion, and Alteration. Gave Ellina her blue eyes (Martin Septims blue eyes) and her curly hair. His hair is curly, half braided back in a Nord ish style and dirty blond. Doesn’t carry a weapon but when fighting will conjure a daedric sword. Wears his dark blue Archmage robes with the little gold thing at his neck

Her mother, Lilith Gold-Claw, is 5 feet of pure muscle. Is fucken ripped from carrying a ebony bow a head taller than her. Wears ebony chainmail that has a plethora of enchantments to make it lighter and stronger. Literally makes arrows turn the other way when coming at her. Has bright red hair that is kept at shoulder level and is usually tied up. She is a woman of few words and is eternally patient, until she isn’t. If you cross this Bosmer you’re getting your throat ripped out. She quite literally makes people tremble with a look, the rest of the Penitus Oculatus have learned to fear her and also love her. Is very fair but loyal, will beat anyone who calls her husband a dumb Nord who only got his job because of his family name.

The Gold-Claws date back to the Nerevarine. Eresin Gold-Claw. He had a wife and 16 year old daughter, Willow Gold-Claw, the Hero of Kvatch. He was arrested for a bar fight and thrown in prison. Just like Willow would 7 years later. Ever since then the Gold-Claws have been close with the Empire and when Martin Septim died and left Willow alone and pregnant they became even closer. They helped the Meads rise to power and told them their secret. Titus knows who they are and always keeps it in mind that if they wanted to they could have his place as Emperor.

Their family’s are close as a result. Ellina basically grew up in the Imperial Palace, having every guard, maid, cook, prince wrapped around her little finger.

Has wild gold hair, big poofy curls that reach her mid back when dry and go past her butt when wet. Will only put it up when she’s relaxed enough around you. (Kinda backwards but I don’t care.)

Wears a green cloak flecked with gold, reaches the floor when she wears it. Wears Neloths robes, no armor plates. Later on she trades her green cloak for a red and gold one, matching Neloths colors when she goes to the Imperial city for a party

Likes dresses but only when she can. They’re a bit impractical for her line of work. Usually wears her cloak over dragonscale armor. Pretty badass

That’s when she’s traveling, when she’s just sitting around Lakeview she’s just in a shirt and leather pants or a plain dress.

Fucken loves Neloth’s robe that he lent her, and will never take them off now. They’re soft and have P O C K E T S. Yaaas

Once she spends some time around Neloth she starts to fall for him. She liked him from the start, she likes his no shit attitude and his unforgiving bluntness. After she sees him in the midst of a horrible nightmare about his mother using a cruel spell on him and after he wakes he curls up in her arms to cry. She's touched by him letting her comfort her. When he called her dear she just fucken melts. Sure he may be half asleep that first time but who cares.

When he kisses her for the firsts time she’s completely smitten and doesn’t bother trying to deny it to herself.

Also has piercings on her ears, two on the tip of her right ear and just the regulars ones on the other.

Can’t use a bow to save her life, uses Dawnbreaker and she usually has a dragon bone dagger in a sheathe on her lower back.

Used mostly alteration and illusion magic, is decent at healing and can throw a fireball if needed. Prefers her sword. Hates it when people comment on her not using a bow, Windhelm was particularly bad until she threw a guy across the city.

Is a stupidly brilliant artist, draws beautifully but rarely does it. If she finds the time to draw you, you’re special. Neloth keeps her drawing of him on his desk or in his pocket, specially enchanted to not rip or tear.

Likes to sit on Neloths desk and draw him. His expressions are always the best.

Also likes to sit in stupid places. will always choose a table over a chair, had scaled the tower and sat up there when Neloth needed space. Tops of bookshelves until Neloth finds her. Stuff like that

Is always humming, singing, tapping her fingers or feet. Always has a song going through her head.

Odahviing is her best friend, and so are the Companions. (Her and Farkas are close but not romantically.)

Can sing like an angel but can also destroy a tavern if she gets too into it so she doesn’t much.

Loved to hoard books. Until she goes to Moras place

Sucks ass at alchemy but tries her best, Neloth has (or will) banned her from using his alchemy table due to many explosions.

She specializes in Alteration and Illusion magic. Is decent with healing and knows like two fire spells. Hates shock magic, like fucken hates it. Can’t stand to see someone use it

Has three claw marks on her back from Alduin. They travel from the right to the left down her back. She almost died fighting him and if it wasn’t for the Greybeards she would be.

Also was tortured by the Thalmor when she was younger, 10 to be exact, has a lightning shaped scar down her right side that reaches her neck. Can be seen in regular clothing and armor.

Has horrible nightmares, has broken windows in her house in Falkreath from screaming. All of Alduin killing her family, the Companions, or the Greybeards. Neloth makes an entrance later on

Can change her appearance at will, takes concentration though and only lasts a few hours at most.

Hates the Blades with a seething passion, will never kill Paarthurnax. Ever. He’s amazing and he talks nice.

Didn’t take a side in the civil war, thinks Ulfric is hot but a dick. Hates him slightly less than Tullius. Rikke’s fucken funny tho. Hadvar is the best, so sweet. The way he says burns runs through my head constantly.

Is hella allergic to apples and will die if she eats them.

Also her sneezes will send her flying backwards and anything in front of her goes flying as well.

Loves Dunmer food and drink. Sujamma mostly. Flin is alright. Loves canis root tea as well. Is the only person who Neloth knows who actually likes the taste besides him.

True to Skyrim fashion, she loves cheese. Hoards cheese, will kill a room of druager for cheese.

Loves picking on the Thalmor, doesn’t kill them if she doesn’t have to, just likes to slip a Talos amulet into one’s pocket and watch the chaos.

Never calls Neloth anything but his name or when their alone “Dii brit onik fahliil.” Which means, “My beautiful wise elf.” Always makes sure to complement his mind and body.

[pkmnsdarkqueen]

The Drake Saga: And why giving kids an eevee is better than a hydreigon

Just A cute store about how Drake met Karne and eventually became an umbreon. Tho there is a pyrce scene so uhhh

Tw: child abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse

Also heads up Karen’s birth name Okera or ‘oki-doki’ which is the nickname her dad uses, is mentioned, refer to headcannons about how she ended up with Karen as her name.

Below cut for length

“Hey Okie-doki wanna see what daddy got you?”

The man grinned after bursting open the door. At least that was what Drake assumed happened from what he heard inside the pokeball. He didn’t really understand all that was happening. Just that he was picked up from his mother, and taken with this man. Some stranger he didn’t know, and heard a small girl giggling from outside his ball. 

“Adgar what did you do?”

“Something amazing because every child deserves-”

And then it happened. There was a bright light and he went from sitting inside the pokeball to sitting on the ground. Some wood ground with eyes all staring at him. There was the man, a woman who wasn’t smiling staring at the man, and a child with large blue eyes maybe no older than 4. 

“Ugh Adgar I said we had enough pokemon.”

“Yeah we have enough but Okie-doki here deserves to have one especially sinec she’d about to head to school.”

“Mine?!”

The child squeaked looking up in awe at who Drake assumed to be your fathers. 

“All yours kiddo, we can go make it official at the pokemon center later.”

That was all it took for Drake to find himself in a new situation. He didn’t have time to react as the child moved with immediate speed to wrap him in her arms. He gave a squeak at first in fear, but soon found her grip was surprisingly too strong to break from. It was warm too.....well the warmth wasn’t so bad.

“Adgar honestly.”

“Oh come on Yua I didn’t get her a dragon type since you said that was too dangerous, or a dark type since they’re bad omens to your family. I still think a hydregion would of been cool, but I think this eevee is perfect. I went ahead and named him Drake.”

Yes....Drake, the name this human dubbed him when getting him. Everyone seemed so excited about what was happening besides this woman. There had been so much smiling and joy around him, and yet her face never moved from it’s frown. Giggling rang in his ear as the child kept saying Drake, and finding new spots to pet him in her arms. 

As this happened the man crouched down next to his daughter, and pulled her closer for a side hug as he held up the shiny new pokeball freshly engraved on the bottom. 

“See this Okera? This is Drake’s pokeball, he’s gonna have a little home in here ok? Wanna know what this says?”

“Yeah!”

“It says,’every princess needs a dragon,’ and Drake is gonna help keep you safe, and you’re gonna keep him safe. That’s what being a trainer is about. As you change he’s gonna change with you, and just like how I want you to become whatever you wanna be he’s going to become something he wants to be ok?”

Her dad explained in a soft comforting voice. Drake stared at him a moment processing this whole arrangement he was explaining. It seemed...silly. How was this doughy child supposed to protect him. He could get out of this hold if he wanted! As he looked back at those eyes he faltered though. They were just, so happy, so kind, so innocent in a way that when she pipped in he knew she was saying it with her whole heart. 

“We Drake’s family! Gonna be the best trainer to him!”

I’ll be a good pokemon to you too tiny human.

He smiled setting his paw on her nose immediately getting a giggle from her, yeah this wasn’t so bad. 

Dragons for dad

“Woah I mean you kinda look dragon like, do you feel like anything that feels like evolving yet?”

Karen asked crouched down next to her Eevee. The pokemon closed his eyes tightly. Alright think scales, and fijre breathing, and jewel hoarding, and thing dragon, think dragon! He focused all of his energy but.....nothing. There wasn’t even the lighting tingle of change he felt. He failed again. Drake realized opening his eyes as he stared at the ground despondently. 

“Aw it’s ok Drake maybe we just gotta try using a new move or something.”

Karen encouraged starting to pull one of the dragon scales from his fur. Seeing that she was pulling the plug for the day he spit out the two dragon fangs he’d wedged in his mouth as well. The two of them were trying to accomplish something unheard of, the first dragon eeveelution. So far they’d tried alot of things, and the latest method was evolution items. He was sort of decorated everywhere in scales and fangs she’d collected still with no luck. 

“Hey I’m sure next time we’ll get it! You’re still the goodest of boys ok! We’re gonna make dad proud together, so that when he comes back he’s gonna be blown away by how good of a duo we are!”

She was so alight with passion, and energy as she clenched her fist in determination Drake gave an excited yip to hide the pain in his heart. He knew her dad wasn’t coming back. While she slept he’d been sneaking about hearing what their mother said, how she lied about everything, and how she’d changed things to hide from their father. Even changing the child’s name to Karen. In Karen’s mind this would solve it, getting the first dragon eeveelution would be so impressive her dad had to come back. When the truth was, he couldn’t. 

Maybe though if he could do it, maybe he’d see that innocent smile again, and help her like he was supposed to.

Not such a stupid child

“I think you should use Trick for this.”

The old man encouraged handing her a pokeball that twitched with the violent spirit of the murkrow inside. Drake didn’t like that pokemon, no one on the team liked that pokemon. Something was wrong with him. There was almost no thought to the bird besides violence as even it’s words to their ears sounded garbled and overall manic. Stepping in front of his trainer out if instinct he saw the man meet eyes with him. There was a stare that was clearly an invitation to step down, but Drake didn’t move. He didn’t want that pokemon to hurt his human again, or tear his blue bandana like it had before. 

“You said use our best sir, and well I’m best at fighting with Drake.”

Karen explained wary in tone when talking to only this figure of authority. Pryce paused at those words finally pulling his eyes from the pokemon to whom he dubbed as his child. She had her hands back at attention having been learning the stance for some time now. !3 currently, and she had the proper protocols down flat. 

“Hm, that is true. I do think that if you desire the advantage a murkrow would help with it’s flight.”

“I am aware although Drake and I have found work arounds before, and I have found practicing outside the box ideas helps me in proper missions.”

“Always so helpful, I appreciate it child....I suppose I’m just hurt.”

“Uh...I’m sorry sir, c-can I ask how?”

She asked nervously watching the way he slouched back often before digging into her.

“Well you always choose Drake, the one your father gave you. I’m your father now Karen, so why don’t you love me?”

It wasn’t like that! Drake wanted to shout feeling a growl desperately want to escape, but he swallowed it down knowing she’d be hurt for it. Immediately he felt her thoughts swim. There was panic rising as she registered Pryce could be angry, she had to stop him from being angry at her otherwise she wouldn’t have a family again. That was what she told Drake late at night when they were alone, and now she was in a tizzy as he questioned her loyalty. 

“No I do! You’re the best dad I’ve ever had, I-I’m sorry to hurt you sir. Um, I just uh like Drake-”

“Karen, child, calm yourself. I understand, but you really should let go. Your dad left you, I have provided for you like a true father, and it hurts to think about him. Now I have an idea let’s have you get more used to trick ok, and maybe we can eventually phase Drake out. Help you forget about him.

He encouraged handing her the twitching pokeball again. It was new, Drake noticed. He and Karen both saw the inscription on the bottom, freshly engraved,’To my daughter from her father-Masked Man’. So it was new, and this man wanted to replace him! That growl finally escaped. Which lead to Karen scooping him up.

“.....No. I don’t want to forget him, becuase it helps me appreciate you more, and....It’s not Drake’s fault he left. He’s as hurt by it as I am.”

She then took the pokeball holding it as close to her as she held him. 

“I’m going to go train with them now, and show I love you.”

Without waiting for an answer, despite the danger in that she turned to take off down the hall with them both. Drake feeling how quickly her heart was beating in fear. He needed to protect her better. 

Seperation in a Storm

Everything went wrong. 

The whole mission was an utter bust in every way. He didn’t know why, or how due to the panic brough ton by the storm, and he didn’t care. All the wanted was Karen back. They’d been seperated during the escape attempt. He’d been running to her when Lugia suddenly had an outburst, and she was whisked away leaving the eevee standing there as growlithe could be heard yipping behind him. After that he just ran, and ran, and ran, and his feet hurt. They hurt so much. The lighting and thunder wouldn’t stop crashing around him, and any cry he made was deafened by their outbursts. He kept her safe. He made sure to keep everyone busy while she got away, and she waited for him as long as she could. He heard her yelling as the take off happened. A blinding strike of lighting kept him from seeing what happened, but he heard her yelling for a moment, and now it haunted him. Another roll of thunder from directly overhead was the breaking point. 

He tripped from fright, and tumbled into some gully washed creek. The current was strong in the pouring rain unfortunately, and with all his fur the water felt so much heavier. His lungs already ached from breathing while running at top speed not to mention his bleeding paw pads from running so hard. The fight he put up was pathetic in every way. It didn’t even feel worth it as he knew he’d likely never find his girl again, so he just gave up. 

He wished the fall was peaceful. He wished he could of splashed into something still to accept fate, but with the crashing of the waters from the overload of rain his body was tossed about left to right till even if he wanted to swim he couldn’t tell what direction up was. When he crashed into something he hoped it knocked him out. The crash was a hard one, but hit his back though meaning not knocked out yet. Or ever, as he soon found out feeling teeth, claws, and a hand grab his scruff. Was this death? Was it not cold? He wondered suddenly with a heave pulled from the water, and thrown on shore. What was happening? He wondered too weak and dazed to lift his head. Thankfully he didn’t have to as he was pulled into a familiar embrace. 

The same heart beat he’d come to know was up against his hear again as even over the storm he heard sobbing. A houndour wrapped around one side, as a murkrow perched on the girl’s shoulders, and an gloom hopped in her lap to help warm him. She could hardly make a word through her sobbing, but he knew what she wanted. She wanted him to be ok. He was ok, he was now. 

A tiny paw went up like it had often before, and batted her nose causing her tears to hitch a moment looking down to find little black eyes blinking at her. The sobs of sorrow became joyous realizing he was ok, and despite everything he felt...warm, tingling even as he looked down at himself realizing a dull glow was starting. 

Wait was he? Then it happened. Everything quickly glowed bright, and he felt everywhere grow or shape. He wasn’t sure what Karen did too occupied with the sudden changes to his body, but she wasn’t stopping it. He saw it happen to her oddish, evolution, but they never gave a good description of the feeling. He was acutely aware of two things during it, how much Karen loved him, and the stillness of the moon above thew storming clouds. When it finally stopped he looked down at his body to see dark fur, and that his bandana fit far looser than before. 

That was when it dawned on him that he’d become...an umbreon. Not a dragon eeveelution like they’d tried so hard to create. Just a pokemon her mother would deem a bad omen. He knew Karen loved him before, he felt that, but now....he failed her again. The crack of thunder brought him back as he looked to Karen instinctively going for comfort only to immediately receive it by being help in her arms. She didn’t care what he was, she loved him, and all night he let his rings glow to give her comfort till Will could help Pryce find her the next morning. 

[secret-vore-lair]

Crushing on you

An anxious dragon receives romantic advice from an unlikely source.

Contains allusions to vore and some mild hypnosis.

***********************************************************

Vahari swept her feathered tail over the line of small bronze statues on her shelf, then turned and carefully adjusted one on the end with her claws so it lined up with the others. She stared into the vacant metal eye sockets of the grinning dragon it depicted. “What’s your secret?” She asked it softly, then sat back and collapsed into a pile of scales and fluff.

“Well, for starters, I don’t spend my days pining over things I can’t have,” She answered for it, crossing her eyes and talking in a high-pitched voice from the corner of her mouth.

“Hmm, yes, you do make a good point.” She sighed in her normal voice, looking around at her one-room lair and meager hoard. Despite never owning much, she was usually quite content with her life. The tiny cave stayed warm and dry in the rainy season, and it was tucked away in a quiet, secluded place. She never had experienced the hoarding and lording instincts as strongly as most others of her kind. But her cave and her treasure were not what troubled her now.

“What are you up to, Vahari? Talking to yourself again?” The voice was silken smooth, and came so suddenly out of the quiet that the little feathered dragon squeaked and threw herself up against the wall. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she swiveled her head to its source, seeing there a long, scaly jawline taking up the entire entrance to her cavern. The head retreated, allowing Vahari to see a bright blue eye with a vertical pupil. “Oh, so nice of you to make room for me!” the larger dragon continued. “You know how hard it can be for me to get comfortable in that little nook of yours. Here, let me squeeze in.”

Vahari gulped and pressed herself more firmly against the stone as dark, looping coils began to spill in through the entrance and twist around, promptly filling every available space in her home and leaving Vahari compressed between a rock and a smooth place, only able to take shallow breaths and stare into the great azure eyes of her, well, ‘friend’ wasn’t the word she would use. . .

“H-Hello, Lotus,” she managed, trying to sound polite even though she had never seen the other dragon express any sign of anger or displeasure. She didn’t need to. “I, um, didn’t know you were in the area. . .”

“Oh, I’m always around,” Lotus said cheerfully. “Now, you’ve gotten yourself all twisted up over something, I can tell!” She took Vahari’s snout in her claw and tapped a talon softly on her forehead. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head. Maybe I can help!”

Vahari made a muffled noise that could have been words.

Lotus released her face.

“Are you just going to eat me after I tell you?”

Lotus tapped her chin, thinking deeply for an uncomfortable length of time. “Hmm. I don’t think so. No, not today. Probably soon, though. Sometime this week. We’ll see how I’m feeling.”

Vahari stared at Lotus and her endlessly patient smile. Yep, if she wanted to move again she would have to tell her what was on her mind. Lotus loved a great many things, in her own strange way, but she loved stories most of all. “Fine, fine. Okay, so there’s this girl from the village. . .”

“The human village?”

“The very same,” Vahari said, eyes downcast and face flushed.

“Oh, is she not sitting well? Do you have a belly ache?”

Vahari’s feathers fluffed up so violently that it looked like a pillow exploded. “It’s not like that! I didn’t eat her! I like her!”

Lotus blinked slowly. “I don’t see the problem there. I like most of the people I eat. Then again, I’m pretty easy to get along with!” If she noticed Vahari’s glare, she didn’t show it. “Okay, well, what is the problem, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the first thing anyone assumes when a dragon says they like a human is, as you have so conveniently demonstrated, that we mean in our mouths!”

“Mmm, well you have to admit it’s an educated guess! Listen,” Lotus said, flicking out her forked tongue. “The heart wants what it wants. And in my case, the belly wants the same thing. But not for you, and that’s okay. That actually makes this easier. You just have to tell her.”

“She already ran from me once! She was walking by the river, and I flew down to have a drink, and I didn’t see her at first, and she just froze and then I froze too and then she ran away and—”

“Shhh,” Lotus said, putting power into her voice. The air seemed to thicken and tremble as her magic swam through the waves of sound that left her jaws. One syllable was all it took. Vahari relaxed against the wall of scales, slumping over her coils, pacified and relaxed. “You saw her once and you felt something, yes?”

Vahari nodded slowly. “Yes. . . It was like a . . . a fire caught in my belly. I’ve never felt anything like that before. . . It was so nice. . .” Her voice sounded far away. Lotus licked the top of her head affectionately, soaking the feathers there. As long as Lotus kept speaking, Vahari would remain like this, untouched by her worries.

“And isn’t it possible that she felt the exact same thing?”

The smaller dragon’s brow furrowed. “I . . . I guess it is? I never thought about that. . .”

“The way I see it,” Lotus continued, her tongue gliding over the smooth scales that edged her jaw as her voice resonated around the cramped cavern, “There are two possibilities. Either she did feel that way or she didn’t. Do you know how you can find out which it is?”

“I . . . could ask her?”

Lotus let the power fade from her words. “That’s exactly right! Think of how happy even the thought of being with her has made you, and how much senseless worrying you’ve done over whether or not she wants you, too. You barely know each other. You both need to have a conversation. It won’t be easy to approach her, but I’m sure you’ll find a way! Sure, if you ask she might say no. But if you never ask then she never gets the chance to say yes!”

Vahari blinked several times, clearing her head. “You . . . you used your voice on me!”

“I did, yes! Didn’t it help?”

Vahari wrinkled up her nose. “. . . It did. Yes.” She buried her face in her claws. “Fiiiiiiine. I’ll try. Why are you helping me, anyway?”

“I want the best for all my friends!” Lotus said, brushing a loose feather from where Vahari was laying on her.

“You keep talking about how you’re going to eat me, though.”

The dragon shifted where she lay, beginning to slide her head back toward the outside world. “I already told you. I like a lot of the people who find their way down my throat. Speaking of which, I should go if I’m going to find a dinner date before nightfall.”

She gave the smaller dragon one last lick, then slithered languidly back out the way she’d come in. Vahari fell forward, finally getting some space to move and breathe. As the serpentine tail curved out of sight, it gave a little wave, and Lotus called back over her shoulder, “Good luck, Vahari! I’ll catch you later~”

Vahari shivered. That had been exhausting. But . . . also enlightening. She was going to do it, she thought to herself, and her heart skipped a beat. She was going to try. She gathered up her little statues one at a time and put them back in their places, smiling in spite of herself.

[vesperstalksclones]

Daily question time because these are fun (but also because I am procrastinating my homework)! If you were a main character in a fantasy world, be it as a jedi, disney princess, wizard, whatever, what kind of animal would you have as your cute and quirky animal companion? I would say a zebra (my favorite animal) or a tiny little dragon like Mushu that can sit on my shoulders and entertain me with sarcastic quips!

I love felines the best! Anything from regular cats to big fluffy, fancy beasts. Of course the bigger and scarier, the better. Bobcats, Lynx, pumas, and tigers are all excellent choices, but my top critter would be a big floofy snow leopard. They are so gorgeous and their eyes are so intense and wize. Ideally my feline companion will be able to talk to me in some way, even if its just that I learn their language. Hopefully they will be naughty, perhaps a little grumpy, and sarcastic, but also capable of the best kitty loves and head butts. They will double as a pillow when I am traveling the lands in search of adventure.

A little bitty dragon would be amazing too! Definitely a tiny one, who steals my coins and jewelry and hoards them in my rucksack (if we are traveling) but at home he decides to make his "lair" in an old milk can that has been tipped on its side. He hoards shiny treasures there and has built a nest out of scraps of yarn and bits of fabric, and cinnamon sticks from the kitchen pantry.

[innesmaciver]

Mummy & Her Chicks

Innes smooths down the front of his sharply creased plaid work shirt, straightens the ID at the end of the lanyard around his neck, levels his glasses, and steals a look at his reflection in the glass beside the door. With a bit of frown, he straightens a few errant bits of his recently-trimmed fringe.

There.

Fig. 1. View from the MacIver home farm, Isle of Harris.

Both his natural bits and his glamor look neat and professional, if he does say so himself. And so he does say as he gives himself a hearty mental pat on the back.

From Innes’ padded right shoulder, Punky runs a red paw tipped with golden yellow claws over his scaly head and collar of short spikes. The little dragon, looking like a housecat-sized version of the great beasts of myth, cheeps a question in his bird-like voice.

“Aye, you are indeed the most handsome bloke in the whole of Glasgow.”

Punky sits up straight, posture perfect, spreads his wings, and gives them a brief rattle.

Innes chuckles. “Now that we’re properly chuffed, it’s time to get to work.”

Punky stomp-stomp-claps his forepaws as he tucks his leathery wings down to his back.

“That’s the spirit! Now: the job!” Innes raps his most professional rap on the black-painted door and waits.

That door—set into the front of an imposing red brick house on a rather posh street in a very nice section of south Glasgow, one of those houses that has big gardens front and rear shaded by mature trees, the sort of house Innes and Punky could never afford in even their wildest dreams—swings open on a sparkling, red-haired person in their mid-twenties.

Innes double-takes them and squeaks (most unprofessionally; he cringes internally), “Cherish?”

She blinks blue eyes at him a moment, her brow furrowed as she searches her memory. “Innes? The same little Innes from Paisley I used to babysit?”

He smiles across the now-vanished height difference. “Not quite so little now, yeah?”

“Oh my god! It is you! C’mere!” Cherish lifts him clear off his feet and hugs the air from his lungs.

Punky squawks nervously, digging in his claws to keep his perch; to be perfectly frank, Innes squawks, too.

Cherish sets him down and pushes him away, but keeps hold of his shoulders as she drags her eyes from his toes to his crown. “You’ve sure grown up handsome!”

“It’s been twelve years, yeah?” Innes shifts his feet in their heavy work boots, cheeks warming, and strokes along Punky’s neck to calm them both.

“Good lord, it’s been that long?”

“It has.”

Cherish smacks her forehead with her open palm. “Where’re my manners? Come in, come in!” She waves him into the close with both hands.

Innes hops over the threshold and resettles the bright new wicker capture basket over his arm on landing.

“You went and did it, huh?” grins Cherish.

Innes tilts his head. “Did what?”

“Got yourself a breathing dragon. Became a proper MacIver like I said you should.”

“Oh, that. Aye, that I did.” He grins. “That’d be why I’m here, after all.”

“Lucky for us! Follow me to the trouble!” Cherish twirls to march deeper into the house.

“Lead on, ma’am.”

Cherish snaps one-hundred-eighty degrees around and Innes barely avoids crashing full-frontal into her.

Punky digs his claws into Innes’ shoulder and squawks afresh.

“Ugh! Don’t you dare call me that!” Cherish scolds.

Innes takes another step back and gestures for calm. “It’s polite?”

“No no no! You always call a woman ‘miss’ until she corrects you. Flatters her ego.”

Innes files that away. “I’ll be sure to do that from now on.”

“Good.” Cherish softens and smirks a tad. “Take it you haven’t been a working man long?”

“I’ve been an apprentice for a couple years, but this’s my first call flying solo, actually.”

“And you drew our house?”

Innes glances about the tastefully decorated foyer. “Certainly looks that way.”

Cherish smacks his arm, totally playful. “This is so awesome! Little Innes is all grown up and has a dragon familiar!” Cherish skips up a flight of carpeted stairs past a window glimmering with colorful stained glass as Innes pursues. “What’s your pretty friend’s name? He’s a lesser Hebridean, yeah?” she asks.

The dragon puffs up, sings a bouncy little tune.

“This’s Punky. He’s technically my partner, not a familiar, and yes, he’s a lesser Hebridean, but he thinks he’s actually Freddie Mercury.”

“He’s got a lovely voice, but can he play the piano?”

Innes looks to Punky.

Punky looks to Innes and gives his best shrug: a brief, fluttery flex of his wings.

“We’ll have to find out after we take care of whatever I’m here for.”

“That’d be in here.” Cherish steps from a long hallway into an expansive bedroom decorated in soothing greens and blues, complete with a giant bed and what looks like a working fireplace.

Faint scraping and cheeping reaches Innes through the masonry. He steps closer to it and prompts, “They’re in the chimney?”

Cherish crosses her arms and frowns at the fireplace. “They’re in the chimney and they’re raising a ruckus all day, which keeps my da awake. He’s slowly going mad with lack of sleep.”

“That’s not ideal.” Innes scratches the back of his head, poking Cherish’s childhood descriptions of her father back into the depths of his memory. “You … you think it’s dragons instead of birds because …?”

“Because I saw one of the little scaly bleeders crawling into there from the roof. With what looked like a mouthful of sparrow.”

“That’s likely a dragon.”

“You think?”

Innes shrugs. “It could be a very confused and unhealthy squirrel.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Not at all. You didn’t meet Chompers, the Terror of Harris.” Innes shakes head as he fits the red and blue lenses of the x-ray specs over his glasses.

“You’ll have to tell me about that someday,” Cherish laughs.

“If I ever have another free moment. The boss’s promising to run me ragged.”

Cherish pulls an exaggerated pout. “I haven’t seen you for yonks and here you are promising to disappear again.”

“I, I never disappeared. Went from Paisley to Mount Floridon and Loch Tay, then Harris, and now here with a job to do. Always been in the directory.”

Cherish beams reassurance like sunshine. “I mean I let us fall out of touch, but we’re living in the same city again and we absolutely have to catch up, aye?”

“Aye,” says Innes, smiling relief. He takes a deep breath and turns his attention to the brickwork.

The magic bound to the x-ray specs reduces the structure of fireplace, chimney, and wall to a greenish mist, revealing three fingerling dragon chicks curled up under the wing of an adult the size of a crow nestled in the throat of the flue.

“And the verdict is?” prompts Cherish.

“There’s a nest of boomers, complete with mum, in there.”

“Great. Scaly pigeons.”

“Don’t hate on them too much, yeah? I wouldn’t have this dream job without their special sort of nuisance.”

Cherish snorts a laugh. “You know why they call them ‘boomers,’ right?”

“I’ve heard a few versions of the tale. What’s yours?”

“Because the damned things always come back like bloody boomerangs.”

“That’s a new one on me.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Been running in different sorts of circles, apparently.” Innes returns the colored specs to their case on his toolbelt and pulls on his dragon-skin gloves, then crouches, eases Punky to the floor—”Down you go, buddy.”—and folds the fire screen aside. After a bit of twisting, he gets his top half into the fireplace, his spine braced against the back wall.

“What do you see?”

“Absolutely nothing. It’s black as midnight in here.”

“Need a torch?”

“Naw. I can make my own. Let there be light!”

The tight space fills with a sourceless golden glow.

“You must save a fortune on batteries.”

Innes hums agreement as he scopes the situation. The spot he’s in is barely wider than his shoulders, coated with soot, and sealed at the top by a hinged metal plate.

“So how do we get them out?” Cherish leaves the barest beat. “Is it magic? Please say it’s magic.”

“I’m actually thinking more along the lines of opening the damper a tad and scooping them out.”

“Aww ….”

“This job isn’t always the stuff of legends.”

“Says the man making like Santa Claus.”

“Fitting, seeing as I’m about to deliver you some presents.”

Cherish laughs again.

“Would you be so kind as to open my basket, nudge it closer, and work the damper? Open it maybe halfway?”

“Got it!”

A bit of scuffing and something bumps Innes’ foot.

“Ready?” calls Cherish.

“Ready!”

A metallic grinding, some scraping, and somethings soft and scaly bounce off Innes’ nose—

“What the—” Innes sneezes himself down hard onto the grate.

—and emit tiny chick-cheeps from his lap, along with pricking his thighs with needle claws.

Innes spits feathers, says—

Leathery wings batter his face and chest, then retreat and—

A yank at his belt, then—

Cherish squeals, then laughs.

—Punky shrieks his absolute indignation.

—an adult boomer peeps an interrogative at a relative distance.

—nothing, but coughs out even more feathers and spits into the ashes. He cradles the baby boomers close to prevent escape and uses his free hand to scrape yet another pillow’s worth of feathers from behind his glasses.

“Are you all right?” giggles Cherish.

“I’m a bit down in the mouth—”

Cherish groans.

“—but unharmed. Never heard of a dragon hoarding feathers like this, though.”

“It’s not hoarding. She wanted her chicks warm and cozy. Isn’t that right, mummy?”

Another questioning chirp arrives in answer.

Innes nestles the chicks in his basket, then wiggles his way out of the fireplace to stand on the hearth. He pushes up his glasses, clears his eyes with his cuff, and blinks. “You caught her?”

“Yep!” Cherish holds up the utterly confused adult female boomer trapped in her hands, lightly iridescent gray-blue wings pinned and legs and tail dangling immobile. “Snagged her right out of the air! Even little Freddie missed her!”

Innes smiles down at Punky. “Next time I’ll let you off your lead first.”

Punky sniffs approval, but some sulk remains in his posture.

“I’ll take her off your hands.” Innes opens his.

“Here you go.”

Innes takes a solid hold of the now rather miffed dragon—who looks overall like a cross between Punky and a small iguana—pours her into the basket with her chicks, and locks the lid behind her. “Suppose … suppose I’ll have to give you a discount for that.”

Cherish pouts, hands on hips. “I wasn’t already getting one?”

Punky leaps onto Innes’ shoulder, shakes his wings into alignment, then drapes himself around Innes’ neck.

“The discount’s for family only.” Innes straightens up with basket in hand.

“I’m almost family?”

“You babysat me twelve years—”

“The fuck’s all the noise?” growls the person who slumps against the doorframe, the one who resembles Cherish in age and face and coloration enough to be her sibling. They haven’t gotten sleep or sun in much too long, if their surprising dead pale skin and the dark half-moons under their eyes are any indication.

“Hi, Da! Did we wake you?” asks Cherish, absolutely chipper.

Mr. Lennon glares perfect exasperation at her. “I’m fucking sleepwalking, of course. And sleep-talking.” He looks to Innes, blinks a couple of times and says, “You catch them, MacIver?”

“I caught the mum!” sings Cherish, peering around Innes, “and he got the three itty-bitty babies!”

Mr. Lennon grunts and shuffles into the room. “No. You’re not keeping them.”

“But, Da!”

“No. Dragons.”

“They’ll actually be happier on the outskirts than in the city like this,” adds Innes.

Cherish gives him a dark look. “Whose side are you on?”

“That’d be the dragon’s side, where he should be and stay,” says Mr. Lennon. “Now, Mr. MacIver, do everyone a favor and take those little noisemakers away so I can get some bloody fucking sleep already.”

“But, the mess?” Innes gestures to the feathers, soot, and ashes dotted across what looks like an antique rug. “I’m to—”

Mr. Lennon waves dismissal, then herds Cherish and Innes into the hall. “I’ll have the cleaners see to it when they’re in tomorrow.”

“Oh. Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Lennon inclines his head and slams the bedroom door in their faces.

Innes and Punky blink rapidly.

A deadbolt clunks home.

“He is such a grump,” sighs Cherish.

Innes gathers his scattered wits while waves a hand over his clothes, evaporating the smudges and down they’ve collected. “How long’s it been since he’s had proper sleep?”

“Maybe a week.”

“Poor soul, no wonder he’s a tad short on patience.”

“That’s no excuse for that kind of rudeness.”

“Perhaps, but it’s as near to one as I can think of.”

Cherish huffs. “Can you stay for a cuppa?”

“Unfortunately not. I have to drop this lot off at headquarters, then be on to my next call.”

“Aww ….”

“There’s no rest for the wicked.” Innes gives her a winning smile.

“You? Wicked? Puh-lease.”

“I’m only starting out. Give it time.”

“Never! You’re one of the good guys!”

Innes laughs along. “Guilty, I suppose.”

  ++++++++++

Image credit: Chris Downer. Urgha: view along the Laxdale Lochs. Image file (.jpg). 15 August 2012. CC BY-SA 2.0. https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/3283041