#Gold Wings Rising

[aurorawest]

Reading update, part 1

Paris Daillencourt is About to Crumble by Alexis Hall - 4/5 stars

The problem with this book was that I liked Paris and Tariq, but god, it was rough to read. I also felt—and I'm going to be honest, this is an issue I've been noticing increasingly with Hall's newer novels—a little like I was reading like, the Perfect And Unproblematic Way To Date. There's this sort of preachy, social media I-don't-know-who-needs-to-hear-this quality to a lot of the dialogue. It was also just hard to read at times. But I still rated it 4 stars, so I guess I didn't hate it.

Rattlesnake by Kim Fielding - 5/5 stars

This book is about a drifter who ends up in a town because a hitchhiker dies in his car (sounds grimmer than it is!), and the hitchhiker was trying to get to said town to see his estranged son. If you said to yourself, I bet the drifter falls in love with the estranged son, you would be exactly right. This book was so poignant and sad, so the HEA was amazing.

Gold Wings Rising by Alex London - 5/5 stars

This is the last book of The Skybound Saga and it was an excellent ending.

Heart of the Steal by Avon Gale and Roan Parrish - 3.75/5 stars

I told a friend the other day that I would die for Roan Parrish, but I should have told her not to pick up this book. It wasn't awful, but...it wasn't great, either.

Rag and Bone by KJ Charles - 4/5 stars

The Reanimator's Heart by Kara Jorgensen - 4/5 stars

The Half Life of Valery K by Natasha Pulley - 5/5 stars

Look. Guys. I've raved about every Natasha Pulley book I've read, yeah? And this is no exception. I need you all to read this. Like, I'm not sure you're all taking me seriously out there. But if you read anything I've recommended, it needs to be Natasha Pulley's books. I can only rate up to 5 stars on Storygraph, so yeah, maybe it looks like I loved this book the same as I loved Rattlesnake by Kim Fielding. No. This book lives in my heart and my mind. This book is part of my soul. All of her books are. I love and hate her for A) making me feel SO MUCH and B) being a better writer than I will ever be.

I know I've said nothing about the book, but like. You just have to trust me. Read her books.

Oh yeah, this one is about a nuclear disaster in the USSR that was covered up for decades.

You & Me by Tal Bauer - 4.5/5 stars

Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love by Kim Fielding - 3.25/5 stars

Man, I wanted to like this one? It felt really phoned in, though. The characters all felt very surface level.

The Whispering Dark by Kelly Andrew - 4/5 stars

Subtle Blood by KJ Charles - 5/5 stars

How did this series just keep getting better? I'm so bummed that this was the last in the trilogy, because I totally could keep reading about Will and Kim and their adventures.

Firestarter by Tara Sim - 5/5 stars

Also the last in a trilogy, and also a worthy wrap-up.

The Mayor and the Mystery Man by AJ Truman - 4.25/5 stars

Fence, Vol 5: Rise by CS Pacat with Johanna the Mad - 5/5 stars

Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver - 5/5 stars

AHHHHHHHHHH. God. This book! Looks like a romcom but will stab you in the heart repeatedly. Oliver has a gorgeous way with words and captures the dynamic between two people who have no idea how to talk to each other so well. There's something the dialogue in Oliver's books that just speaks to me.

Rookie Move by Riley Hart and Neve Wilder - 2.75/5 stars

Boyfriend Goals by Riley Hart - DNF

Please note here that it seems like I don't like Riley Hart's writing. Unfortunately I still have like 3 of her books in my TBR pile.

The Gentleman's Book of Vices by Jess Everlee - 4.75/5 stars

Even Though I Knew the End by CL Polk - 4.5/5 stars

I feel a little meh about this one, despite the rating I gave it. Like, the world was cool, the writing was excellent. I've seen this book hyped so much, though, and it was like...yeah it was fine. Definitely the best over-hyped Sapphic book I've read lately, so there's that.

Nothing Like Paris by Amy Jo Cousins - 4.5/5 stars

Necropolis by Jordan L Hawk - 4.25/5 stars

Roommate Arrangement by Saxon James - DNF

The Place Between by Kit Oliver - 5/5 stars

Yeah this Kit Oliver book was really good too. It's about academics instead of farmers but it will still stab you in the heart a bunch of times. Oh and it's fake dating.

A Dash of Salt and Pepper by Kosoko Jackson - DNF

I didn't love Kosoko Jackson's debut—there were waaaaay too many pop culture references, many of which I didn't understand, but even when I did, I found it obnoxious. But it was readable. This was...not. I hated the main character so much, and I barely even met the love interest, but I didn't like him, either.

Level Hands by Amy Jo Cousins - 4.25/5 stars

The Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal by KJ Charles - 4.25/5 stars

How to Bite Your Neighbor and Win a Wager by DN Bryn - 5/5 stars

I looooooved this book, omg. I'm not really a vampire person, but this was so cute. I guess it was kind of cozy fantasy? Sort of? With a backdrop of homelessness, medical experimentation, and bereavement.

Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo - 1/5 stars

Catch me never reading a Leigh Bardugo novel again. Oof. This woman wrote Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom? I wasn't too impressed by King of Scars but that was better than this, even though the Crows actually appear in this book.

The Barkeep and the Bro by AJ Truman - 3/5 stars

Heartbreak Boys by Simon James Green - 4.5/5 stars

I don't usually laugh out loud when I read, but this book made me cackle. Obnoxious self-referential bit aside (yeah Simon James Green, I did catch you slipping a reference to your previous book into this one), this was very cute and very funny. I even got my wife to read this, despite her dislike of romance and YA, and she liked it!

Part 2 (because tumblr cut me off at 30 images)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2023. THE SKYBOUND SAGA by Alex London. I bought these because they seemed Perfectly Like My Jam (and because the author was doing some pandemic promotions from afar--there’s a signed bookplate in RED SKIES FALLING).

Unfortunately: I’m almost done with BLACK WINGS BEATING, and it is, tragically, Not Perfectly My Jam :( I appreciate that so far it’s very queer norm! That’s nice! And my girl Kylee is giving off big aro vibes (as an aro myself, I’m hesitant to fall head over heels for that until it’s more solidly confirmed in canon, because I have been Disappointed Too Many Times, but so far it’s looking promising!). But Brysen gets a lot more interiority than Kylee does, which is a bummer because he’s very milquetoast. And there’s a lot of child abuse, so brace for that. And I’ve got quibbles about some of the Bird Stuff (but most of the bird stuff is nitpicky, so I suspect your average reader won’t be bothered by it).

I’m definitely going to finish the trilogy (I have them all, after all, and they’re quick reads that I can mostly put down at bedtime), but sadly I cannot give it Glowing Reviews. This may also just be a Me Problem, since I’ve drifted away from both YA and fantasy, so please take my thoughts with a grain of salt the size of a Great-horned Owl, or a ghost eagle if one’s handy.

[madlovenovelist]

#bookquotes

I love this quote, for me its a take on that old saying that other peoples words can’t hurt you if you don’t give them permission to. That if you take away the emotions and memories attached to the words, they are just sounds someone make with their mouths. Harmless. Meaningless. I wish it was that easy to do, but I strive to be able to deflate hate in such a manner, and reduce it to the…

[ninoxwof]

Onyx the Sandwing

[Image Description: A digital drawing of a burly sandwing dragon named Onyx. She is tan and ash brown, with a cream underbelly and dark brown stripes. She has a sort sandwing sail that's a mid toned brown, and a cream colored rattle on her tail right before her tail barb. Her claws, and horns and tail barb are all the same dark brown as her stripes, with her horns having two tips and her having two horns on her nose like a rhino. She has spiky scales like a bearded dragon and a chip in her left ear. She has her head lowered with an angry defensive pose. In a second image she's featured with her black chain that has a big chunk of skyfire as a pendant. /.End ID]

[killzilla]

when i first met the false dragonets, i actually really loved them bc they're all just sad kids yk? anyway, i loved Flame when i first met him and my heart was WRENCHED when he hugged Avalanche.

then when i saw his design in the graphic novel i fell inlove ALL over again.

i know there's really not much about him and he's more or less an asshole, but i am 100% a Flame enjoyer. that bein said, i also REALLY love the Gold winglet and no ONE FREAKING TALKS ABOUT THEM ENOUGH !!

[spiteriisen]

tag drop ; isande.

( even scorched by fires of war ; i will fly on wings of my own making. ✧ ic. ) isande. ( gold as the rising sun ; she holds her shield aloft to greet the dawn. ✧ visage. ) isande. ( what good is any faith if in yourself you hold none ; be your own devotee. ✧ isms. ) isande. ( through shade & sleet-- through all winter's wrath ; the thistle maid blooms in xanntash. ✧ aesthetic. ) isande. ( born in the dark but her heart never beat ; not 'til light touched her face was she truly complete. ✧ lore. ) isande.

( a message to all the holy temples dedicated to me ; you all really make up any shit huh. ✧ crack. ) isande. ( do not follow me-- do not pray ; choose to walk alongside me and i will stay. ✧ game shenanigans. ) isande.

connections ;

( i'd trade all tales human & divine to turn back time ; for song in your smile & light in your eyes. ✧ isande & finnegan. ) passionfell. ( you seek no god & i never sought to be one ; not demanding or bestowing-- i am asking for a champion. ✧ isande & ankita. ) passionfell. ( you can't wield a sword for me-- i don't carry one ; pledge oath to you & let blind faith be gone. ✧ isande & alwin. ) risingretribution.

[zipquips]

jimbo <3

[weheartstims]

stimboard for the song 'King of The World' by young rising sons with gold/white stims?

King of the World (Young Rising Sons) with gold and white stims!

👑|☁️|👑 ☁️|👑|☁️ 👑|☁️|👑

[bumpscosity]

FINALLY found someone selling the accent I wanted to use for my virgil fandragon, the gears are in motion now I just need the dragon himself…

[ahqkas]

Could you do one with the batboys having a S/O that gets lost easily and finds them at the most random places? Like they get lost in the mansion one day trying to find the kitchen and they somehow end up outside, que the batboys "mildly" panicking because their S/O has been gone for an hour. Please and thank you 🙏

♯LOST AND FOUND

— gn!reader, mention of reader’s hair in bruce’s & dick’s

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE WAYNE MANOR WAS A LABYRINTH—an elegant, sprawling maze of hallways, grand staircases, and secret rooms. it didn’t matter how many times you visited; no amount of “turn left at the portrait” or “take the second right after the library” advice ever stuck with you. you had been in this house dozens of times, and yet, somehow, you still managed to find yourself in the strangest, most unexpected places.

today was no different. you’d innocently set out in search of the kitchen, craving a snack while your boyfriend was busy with his family in the batcave. alfred had mentioned fresh-baked cookies earlier ( your favorite kind ) , and the thought had been enough to motivate you and set you off on your own. armed with directions you thought you’d memorized, you’d confidently strode off down the hall.

and then . . . nothing looked familiar.

at first, you thought you’d missed a turn. then you became certain the house had grown a new wing overnight because the rooms and corridors you passed were entirely unfamiliar. determined not to call your boyfriend for help—again—you kept walking, convinced the kitchen had to be just around the next corner.

somehow, “just around the next corner” turned into a venture outside, where you found yourself on a cobblestone path surrounded by perfectly trimmed hedges. the late afternoon sun painted the sprawling grounds in hues of gold, but the idyllic scene did little to soothe your rising exasperation.

“this isn’t the kitchen,” you muttered to yourself, looking around in disbelief.

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

meanwhile, bruce was beginning to notice your absence. he’d glanced at the clock more than once, each glance sending a ripple of unease through him. you’d left nearly an hour ago, and the mansion, while vast, wasn’t that confusing—well, not to him, at least.

setting down his pen, he leaned back in his chair, a faint crease forming between his brows. he told himself not to worry. you were probably fine. maybe you’d gotten distracted by something or decided to take a walk. but after another five minutes of no sign of you, his patience wore thin. where were you?

he stood abruptly, striding out of the study and calling your name as he began his search for you. his footsteps echoed through the hallways, and as each empty room passed, his worry grew.

“couldn’t have gone far,” the batman muttered to himself, though his mind raced with increasingly unpleasant scenarios. what if you’d fallen somewhere? what if you were stuck in one of the secret passages? scared, alone, with no way to return to him? yeahhh, that frightened him just right.

his search eventually led him outside, where he spotted you—utterly unharmed, but clearly annoyed as you stood in the middle of the garden, hands on your hips, muttering something he couldn’t hear.

“there you are,” bruce called, his voice a mix of relief and exasperation as he hurried toward you.

you turned, startled, but your expression softened when you saw him. “oh, hey. what’s up?”

“what’s up?” he repeated, stopping in front of you with a look that was both amused and incredulous. “you’ve been gone for an hour. i thought something happened to you.”

“oh,” you said sheepishly, glancing around. the time didn’t mean anything out here. “i got . . . a little lost.”

“a little?” his lips twitched, fighting a smile as he took in your surroundings. “you’re in the gardens. weren’t you looking for the kitchen?”

“i was!” you insisted, throwing your hands up in defeat. “but somewhere between the portrait gallery and the second staircase, i made a wrong turn, and well, here we are.”

bruce shook his head, his expression softening as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “you could’ve called me, you know.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. “besides, i thought i could figure it out on my own.”

he sighed, his thumb brushing lightly against your temple in an affectionate gesture. “you’re never a bother. next time, call me. or alfred. i don’t like the idea of you wandering around this house like it’s a corn maze.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

you had zero sense of direction.

inside the manor, dick was finishing up his workout when he realized something was off. you weren’t in the gym with him. you weren’t in the living room, the library, or even his old room you two used whenever you decided to spend the night in the manor.

initially, he wasn’t too worried about your well-being. it wasn’t uncommon for you to explore the manor and its grounds when he was busy. but after twenty minutes of calling your name and finding no sign of you, his easygoing demeanor shifted into mild panic. it was like you’ve been swallowed by the ground, no traces or proof that you were here.

“maybe the kitchen,” he muttered to himself, retracing the path he thought you’d take. but the kitchen was empty, the dining room too.

“alfred?” dick called out, jogging into the study. “have you seen [name]?”

alfred, ever calm and composed, shook his head. “not recently, master grayson. though if [name] was attempting to navigate the manor alone . . .”

“don’t remind me,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. he knew you had a tendency to get lost—easily—but this was next level. his mind raced through the possibilities. were you stuck somewhere? had you wandered into one of the less-used wings? where could he find you?

finally, on a hunch, he headed outside, his heart skipping a beat when he spotted you standing near the fountain, arms crossed, glaring at the house like it had personally offended you ( and let’s be real, it kinda did ).

“there you are!” his loud voice carried across the lawn as he jogged over.

you turned at the sound of his voice, relief washing over your face. “dick! thank god. i thought i’d end up living out here.”

he stopped in front of you, hands on his hips, catching his breath. “do you have any idea how long i’ve been looking for you? you’ve been gone for an hour.”

“it hasn’t been an hour,” you countered, though you glanced at your phone and winced. “. . . ‘kay, maybe close to an hour.”

“what happened?” he asked, his exasperation softened by the amused smile creeping onto his face. as much as he was worried sick about you for the past half an hour, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you relentlessly after he made sure you’re more than okay.

“i was trying to find the kitchen, and then one wrong turn led to another, and somehow . . . you gestured at the sprawling green around you. “ . . . here i am.”

he pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and pulling you into a hug. “you do realize you could’ve called me, right?”

“i didn’t want to interrupt your workout,” you said sheepishly. “plus, i thought I could figure it out on my own.”

dick shook his head, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“hey, at least i didn’t wander into the batcave this time.”

“don’t remind me.” he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “next time, just call me, okay? you’re too important to go missing for an hour without me knowing where you are.”

as you walked back together, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for your terrible sense of direction. after all, it gave dick another excuse to keep you close—and he wasn’t about to complain.

. . . JASON TODD !

it should have been simple—just follow the directions your boyfriend had given you: down the hall, past the grandfather clock, first left. there’s the kitchen.

easy, right?

wrong.

somewhere after the grandfather clock, you’d gotten distracted by a painting. then a turn you thought was the right one deposited you into a hallway filled with suits of armor, which definitely didn’t lead to the kitchen.

“okay,” you muttered to yourself, looking around for any sign of familiarity. “i can figure this out.”

spoiler: you couldn’t.

what started as a confident stride through the manor became a journey through increasingly unfamiliar territory. at one point, you ended up in a library you were pretty sure wasn’t the main one, and at another, you swore you saw the same suit of armor twice.

then, somehow, you found a door leading outside.

now standing in the middle of the garden, you let out an exasperated sigh. “this is fine. completely fine. i’ll just . . . enjoy the fresh air until i figure out where i am.”

back in the manor, jason was starting to get worried.

you’d been gone for nearly an hour. the kitchen wasn’t that far, and he’d walked you through the directions at least three times. at first, he figured you’d gotten distracted by something, but after calling your name a few times and not getting a response, a knot of unease formed in his chest.

“babe?” he called, heading toward the kitchen himself. it was empty.

a quick search of the living room and study turned up nothing, and his patience wore thinner with each passing minute. “you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he checked another hallway.

by the time he reached the garden door and spotted you standing near a hedge, staring at a rosebush like it held all the answers to the universe, he was caught somewhere between relief and exasperation.

“there you are,” he called out, striding toward you.

you turned, startled by his voice, before breaking into a sheepish grin. “oh, hey, jay. what’s up?”

“what’s up?” he echoed, stopping in front of you with a look of disbelief on his face. “you’ve been gone for an hour. i thought you fell into one of bruce’s secret tunnels or something.”

“i didn’t mean to!” you protested, gesturing at the manor. “i got lost. again.” not an unfamiliar situation for you.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. “how do you even manage to get lost this badly? the kitchen is literally the easiest room to find.”

“well, not for me,” you replied, crossing your arms and letting your eyes set into a light glare. “this place is like a maze. and in my defense, your directions weren’t super clear, either.”

he raised an eyebrow. “not super clear? i told you to turn left after the grandfather clock.”

“okay, but what about the painting next to it? was i supposed to pass that too?”

“you don’t take directions like suggestions,” he said, a teasing smirk creeping onto his lips despite his earlier frustration.

you huffed, but before you could respond, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “i was starting to think something happened to you.”

your expression softened as you wrapped your arms around him. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i just . . . have the worst sense of direction.”

“yeah, no kidding,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “but next time, just call me, okay? you’ve got my number, and i’ve got a built-in gps for this place.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM HAD GIVEN YOU DIRECTIONS to the kitchen before he went to work in the cave, but between the hallways that seemed to stretch forever and the identical-looking doors, you were hopelessly lost within five minutes.

“okay, past the piano room, and then . . . left? or was it right?” you muttered to yourself, trying to backtrack.

your stomach grumbled in protest. the kitchen wasn’t supposed to be far, but every turn you made seemed to lead to another unfamiliar wing of the manor. you wandered through a corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the expansive grounds. one window was cracked open, and a soft breeze tugged at your curiosity.

“maybe the kitchen has a garden entrance?” you reasoned aloud, stepping through the side door.

before you knew it, you were outside, standing near a hedge maze that seemed like a metaphor for your situation at that moment. “great,” you muttered. “lost inside and outside. perfect.”

you plopped down on a bench near the maze entrance, deciding to take a breather before figuring out how to get back. the breeze was nice, the gardens were peaceful . . . maybe this wasn’t so bad.

meanwhile, in the batcave, tim was focused on a particularly stubborn piece of tech when he glanced at the clock and realized you’d been gone for an hour.

an hour. to get to the kitchen.

at first, he brushed it off, assuming you’d gotten distracted by something—probably a painting or one of the endless wayne family heirlooms like you always did.

but when you didn’t answer his texts and a quick check of the kitchen proved empty, he started to worry.

“alfred?” he called, jogging up the stairs. “have you seen [name]?”

“not since they went looking for the kitchen,” the old butler replied, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “they’re lost again, aren’t they?”

“quite possibly.”

your boyfriend set off to search, his worry growing as he checked room after room. the library, the sitting room, even the game room—all empty. “where are you?” he muttered, glancing out a window just in time to spot a familiar figure sitting outside near the hedge maze. relief washed over him, quickly followed by exasperation.

he made his way outside, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path as he approached. “there you are,” he said, his voice a mix of relief and incredulity.

you looked up, startled, and then gave him a sheepish smile. “hey, tim. uh, fancy seeing you here?”

“you’ve been gone for an hour. the kitchen is inside the house.”

“i know,” you said quickly, standing up. “but i got a little turned around, and then j thought maybe there was an outside entrance, and—”

“and you ended up here,” he finished for you, gesturing to the hedge maze. “why didn’t you call me?”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice small.

he sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “you’re never bothering me. especially not when you’re wandering around like a lost puppy.”

“hey!” you protested, though you couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate teasing in his tone.

tim shook his head, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “come on, let’s get you back inside before you decide to explore the maze and I have to send out a search party.”

[aenramsden]

The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

[atyourmerci]

Gold wing, angel

meanloser!ellie X classpresident!r

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, v angsty, slight bondage, cunt slapping, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, lite angel symbolism, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: actually surprised I finished a req (you all applaud me) this is inspired by “GOLDWING” by billie.

Ellie was a sick drug. Something not to be desired. She was the epitome of the allure of indulging in something you shouldn’t have, shouldn’t know, try at very least.

How did she get this way- who made her like this? Anger taken out through bodies of admission in an act of revenge. Taking back what was taken from her. Her pride regained by your submission.

You could have never fathomed the aggression the loser from AP American literature could obtain. You thought she’d beg on her knees for you. Worship your every move, starstruck by even getting the chance to touch you.

But she didn’t. She reveled in taking you off your high horse, got off on watching the student body president, proper and witty, utterly depraved by getting her cunt abused by a fucking moron.

-

98- A fucking 98, you did not deserve a 98 on the midterm paper. Your work was frankly sloppy, lacked comprehension. It made you ill knowing you were turning in something so lackluster with your name slapped across the front so proudly. The only thing that made you sicker was the thought of receiving special treatment- you had an image to uphold. You got to your position in this society from your own intellect, blood, sweat, tears and all. Kissing ass for a fucking 98 wasn’t in the cards.

The class began filing out as usual, like wild animals in a pack, shiny white teeth like daggers. Meshing together in their navy steam-pressed blazers, hair like defining fur, the only indication of individuality.

Except for her, sticking out like a sore thumb, the great big elephant in the room. Breaking many rulebook codes with her black nail polish, unkept hair to the standard policy, her white polo unbuttoned at the top two buttons that revealed her freckled chest. Despite her all around degenerate persona, she was irritatingly smart. Maybe if she had an ounce of charm she’d take your place.

With the rest of the class out of sight she stares at you. Not cutting off eye contact you both rise from your chairs you practically run to Mr. Stevens desk. The slap of two papers hit his desk, a 98 and a 90 shining in red sharpie ink on the white papers.

“I don’t deserve this,” comes out in unison, the sincerity in your voice cut open by the harshness in Ellies.

“Please one at a time, ladies.”

Before the words can even escape your lips Ellie rages, “I worked my ass off on this. I deserve better than a 90,” she spits out. “I know you can do better than this Ms.Williams, I expect more from you.” Ellie scoffs back at him, “this is bullshit,” she muffles but continues standing at his desk.

Mr.Stevens nods his head in your direction for your speech, you glance at Ellie with her arms now crossed, awaiting your protest. You brush off her insistence on staying and begin, “Mr.Stevens, I appreciate your grading and understanding my agenda for the midterm, but objectively this is sub-pare work. I think you may have given me someone else’s grade… maybe you mixed up my grade with Ms.Williams.”

He doesn’t skip a beat, “I don’t mix up grades, you earned it. Now if you two will excuse me,” Mr.Stevens directs you both to the now empty hallway.

Ellie storms out with rage, cheeks flushed and lips pressed closely, you follow behind. “‘ms Williams’? the fuck was that?” Ellie presses in a scowl, words echoed in a bare hallway.

“Look I read your paper, I think you deserved better,” you retort in an attempt to soothe her. You cant seem to keep your eyes off her cupids bow, the contrast of soft pink lips against her tired skin.

“Oh thats fucking rich coming from ‘ms I don’t deserve my grade’ you’re pathetic,” she points, eyes thinning.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch more people would like you,” you attempt, heat rising in your own cheeks, heart thumping roughly in your chest.

Ellies cruel disposition contorts into a grin, inching closer to your body, “you’re fucking him aren’t you? Ms. perfect sucking off the teach so she can stay on top?”

A power so foreign comes before you, using force to push your wrist into her chest, though she doesn’t budge, “shut up.”

She returns your aggression, pushing your bodies flesh up against the brick wall behind you, ripping the breath from your lungs. Your hands instinctively grip into her shirt. Her eyes are wild, as if she was surprised she’d taken it this far, or rather puzzled by the fact you haven’t broken your grasp.

You both pant from the intrusion, glaring, waiting- waiting for someone to cave.

Like a dog on a leash you dragged her in, pulling her by her fabric until her lips met your own. A depraved act, met with open mouths and wandering tongues. Hatred in its finest form, digging into her as if you’d ever thought of it. A subconscious desire pulled from the depths of your cravings.

Before true indulgence she pushes you off, taking a moment to look at your hazy disposition, drunk on delinquency, “don’t ever do that again,” she pants out. Taking her thumb she wipes the saliva from your bottom lip and takes off without your response.

-

Time after time you went back. You told yourself you’d stop, never talk to her again. Yet there the keys were in the ignition, a path that you knew like the back of your hand. Leading, controlling your own fate of defacement.

“Can you please just open the door,” you plead on her doorsteps, mind and body corrupted- to only be pleased by the mental games, the destruction in forms of submitting to her.

Strung up like an old doll long forgotten in the attic, bound wrist behind your back and ankles tied to the head of her bed, vulnerable and needy.

“What now? Use your fucking words,” Ellie remarks before spitting on your neglected cunt. Your body winces at the sensation of the hot liquid dripping down the pulsing flesh, “please I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She hovers over your squirming body, carful to not give you the satisfaction. Gripping your jaw in her hand, “do you ever pay attention to what I tell you? You don’t deserve to come,” cocking her free hand back to lay a purposeful slap to your slick folds causing you to scream out from the blissful pain.

She lays another one into the already beat red skin, a cruel grin growing on her lips as she hears you enjoying it. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” she asks glaring at your tucked in lip, eyes glossy. You nod back at her, signaling your approval for using your body as her personal vessel.

Somehow it was good enough for her, dropping down to your perked nipples and sucking it into her teeth as she uses her hand to cover your eyes. You’d learn very early on that you weren’t allowed to watch her use her mouth on you. In the odd occasion she’d let you have your cunt in her mouth shed have your face shoved in the sheets while she took you from behind. She never told you why- and you didn’t dare ask.

Your wrist wriggle behind your back as your chest arches into her mouth, hot and wet. You obsess over what it would feel like on your mouth again, most nights were spent only thinking of her mouth- foreign, an impenetrable fortress. You began to chase the chance of the feeling her again.

You feel as her mouth comes off of the swollen bud as she removes the hand on your eyes, “don’t look,” she says with no threat in her tone, but you don’t risk crossing her.

You shut your exhausted eyes, dropping your head back as you feel her wrap her arms around the meat of your thighs. She drags an antagonizing strip up your slit, jolting your body into the mouth.

She goes as slow as possible, providing as little pressure she can muster up to the swell of your clit, but from her slaps it wouldn’t take much. Your body akin to a fish gasping for air out of water, squirming under her touch. She digs her fingers deep into the flesh as a warning.

“If you ever want to come again Id advise you behave.”

“P-please,” you plead to her, legs shaking as you whimper her name over and over like a prayer.

“I said no, i swear to god I’ll ruin every fucking orgasm,” sliding her two fingers into your clenching hole she drives slow pumps as she returns her mouth to your clit.

Your face contorts in concentration, attempting to hold yourself back but you could only be held off for so long.

“Ellie- Ellie!” bursting at the seams, your body detesting her rules, letting the hot white cum coat her fingers. She only fucks you harder, faster through your orgasm. This is a game you weren’t to win, rather to allow herself to revel in your pain. She got off on destroying your mind, making it to where you can only be pleased by her punishment.

Ellie kept her word, working you up on the edge of finishing and stopping completely, laughing at your pathetic state, crying and begging to come.

Clipping your wings, she hung them on her walls as a trophy. Pleas echoing her room, come splattering her sheets, your lips chapped and neglected.

[demonic0angel]

Like any other species, Dragon courtship has its own sets of rules that it follows.

Males spend years carving out a territory and building up a collection of items that would astound anyone that happened upon it. While females roam from territory to territory seeking a compatible mate.

Hoards are the biggest deal breakers when it came to dragon courtship. It didn't matter if the male had the best territory or was beyond charming. If the female took one look at his hoard and wanted rare gemstones instead of the pile of gold he had, the courtship was dead. No amount of conjoling or bargaining could revive it. Niche collections that weren't the normal rare minerals or precious metals were even harder to get a pass on.

Jason's book hoard fell under niche dragon collections. He'd long gotten used to scenting one of his kind near his den entrance only to never spot them.

So when he returned home and smelled an hours-old unfamiliar female scent, he wasn't bothered by it. Finding her asleep by a pile of books with one open under her maw as if she drifted off while reading did surprise him, though.

(Reminds me of my spider fic lmaooo)

Part 2

Jason crept closer, breathing out a puff of smoke before he inhaled her scent. Yes, this was the dragon that had stayed in his hoard for at least a few hours. He sat back and observed her, tilting his head as he looked at her smooth black scales and sharp claws. Her hide was unscarred, her form was slender, her wings looked large and strong. She was big, far bigger than most dragons that he saw and possibly even bigger than his own sire and guardian.

Jason’s tail swished in happiness.

Yes, with her, they’d have a good hoard and a wonderful nest. He could already imagine it. They’d have plenty of eggs, cute hatchlings, with thousands upon thousands of books to satisfy them both. Jason could read human language, and clearly, so did this dragon, and he could already picture them reading to their children together.

He shook off his thoughts and laid down, pulling one of the books of his collection towards him to delicately flip open the pages. He read as she slept and after a while, she finally sat up with a start, her spines rising as well as her wings as she reared back in alarm.

Jason also stood up, but quickly corrected his posture to be more demure. He had clearly satisfied her with his hoard and his scent if she had been asleep that long, but he still had to ask her to let him court her.

The female dragon shook her head, as if clearing her mind before she looked up at him critically. “You must be the owner of this hoard,” she said. Her voice was sweet and now that her eyes were open, Jason stared in awe at the turquoise eyes that looked at him so sharply.

Dragons have killed and kingdoms had fallen for treasures the same color as those eyes.

Jason tried not to show how nervous he was as he nodded. “I am. My name is Jason, second oldest of the Waynes.” He spread his wings, large, scarred, and weathered, and bowed down to her in respect.

“The Waynes…” she said with a hum. “A good lineage. Very wealthy too, if I recall. I am surprised by the selection of your hoard. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Her wings curled around herself and her tail swished, pleased. “I am Jazz, oldest daughter of the Nightingales. In my long life, I’ve never seen anyone use books as a hoard before.”

She returned the bow deeply and respectfully.

Jason gave another puff of smoke. “I’ve always liked books. Humans have many treasures, but none can teach or imagine or create like books can. They’re delicate and small, especially for dragons. I felt like something like books were more rare and important than gems or gold, which can be recycled over and over.”

Jazz bared her teeth in a smile. She crept over to him and brushed her chin over his head. Jason froze in place as her smooth scales and long horns rubbed against his, creating warmth from the friction of their skin. A steady purr built up in Jazz’s throat as she rubbed her scent all over him, brushing their wings and sides together until he was thoroughly covered in her scent, sweet and salty and strong.

Jason finally found his words when she began intertwining their tails together and blurted, “I wish to formally court you!”

She paused and then rubbed her face against his again, still purring. “I happily accept. We shall make a home that will have all other dragons seethe in envy. I will protect our nest and eggs with my life.”

“And I will make my hoard even bigger and grander for you and protect us with my life,” he swore to her and returned her rumbly purr.

Thank goodness he never listened to his nestmates to get rid of his hoard and replace it with something else.

Otherwise, how would he have attracted Jazz’s attention?

[whiteeyes-is-a-mad-scientist]

mom said it was my turn with the Carnelian lives au

(1st image is an older carnelian, 2nd is younger/concept art)

I know everyone and their mother makes these but honestly Carnelian and umber should have had 10x more screentime (biased lmao)

Anyway in my au Carnelian does die but skywing gods deem her worthy of rebirth due to her fighting spirit. She has served the skywing tribe all her life and doesnt deserve to have it end via failed assasination attempt

After being left in the mourning cave she awakens with odd new features including feathered ears and golden scales. every wound from the dragoncactus is now covered in a golden shell. Scars remain to remind her of her strength and the gold is representative of fire. Her wing webbing having been burned is now also glittering gold, some refer to it as looking like golden silk tightly weaved together. The feathered ears are more of mystery but does spark many religious theories (I really just wanted to give her an owl like head 💀)

Of course her return startles many and causes rise of more animus speculation but Queen Ruby is happy to have her back. I believe Carnelian would remain a the academy for a few years but only to cram in all her classes then return to the skywing kindom. She wouldnt really stick around to make friends but she wouldnt look down on her winglet and would act a bit friendlier towards them.

In the future she becomes a general, though with the lack of war she found herself participating in more community activities and service. This helps her become a highly reguarded general, loved by many. She'll never settle down and have dragonets but the community will reguard her as a motherly figure. Old and wise she becomes.

overall this au is, again, giving a character I like a break lmao. but this also experiments with the kinda "god" like figures and beliefs briefly mentioned in the books (even tho skywings are kinda more reincarnation baised) idk any way is interesting to me

[ninoxwof]

Icicle the Icewing

[Image Description: A digital drawing of an Icewing dragon from Wings of Fire named Icicle. She is a powder blue with a white pointed and ridged underbelly, and a midtoned blue featured through her upper arms, shoulders, snout, tail, knees and face similar to collie markings. Her fur is spikey and pointy like icicles and her wings are feathered with points like the shape of snowflakes. Her white ice like horns and spines are also long and pointed like icicles and she has saber teeth, two long whiskers, and a spikey beard. Her hooves and crystal like tail spikes are also white and glisten like ice. She has bloodshot anxious and tired blue eyes and she is laying down with her head raised as though she's having trouble relaxing. /.End ID]

[the-poke-nebula]

Each Muse and their Region of Origin (Under cut bc length)

Born in Hoenn, has ancient Hisuian roots.

Born in Galar, has ancient Hisuian roots.

Kantonian

Unovan on their mothers’ side, Hoennian on their fathers’

Will eventually be born in what is modern day Sinnoh. Country barriers are tough when you live in a Nuclear Wasteland.

Galarian

Half-Galarian, Half Eridian-Draconid

ALL THESE MOTHERFUCKERS PUREBLOOD ERIDIAN DRACONIDS FROM TAIRNEANACH

Luuwan (Egypt Fanregion)

Johtoan

Kantonian

Hoennian

Unovan

Uplyrian (Fanregion- no discernible location.)

Unovan

Uplyrian

Zenturian (Fanregion- no discernible real-world location)

Rebornian

Kantonian

Not even they fucking know-