#giving them fire lizards and dragons as applicable

[victorluvsalice]

Magical Monday: Pern AU II -- Fandom Weyr

So -- at the end of last week's longer-than-I-freaking-expected post about my main Valice/Pern AU, Pern Crash, I mentioned that I hadn't even gotten to my other main AU idea. So let's talk about it now! This AU is called Fandom Weyr, and it's like Secundus in that it's a multifandom mashup set in a specific location -- in this case, in and around an isolated weyr on Pern. The idea is that the weyr (where the dragons and dragonriders live) and the holds (basically towns) it services are on an island away from the main Pern continents, and things that one might taken for granted in Pern don't work quite the same way there.

. . .Yes, it is essentially a "I like these parts of Pern, but not those parts" fix-it AU. Less creepy forced sex, more colors of fire lizards for everybody. XD I never fleshed this one out as much as I did Pern Crash -- mostly because I've only read two actual Pern books, Dragonsong and Dragonsinger, plus flipped through a "guidebook" on the world and its history, so I'm not sure if I know the setting quite well enough -- but I did come up with a few specific ideas:

-->The four main fandoms involved are Corpse Bride (natch -- Burtonsville becomes Everglot Sea Hold, with Finis and Maudeline as Lord and Lady Holder; William is a super-successful fisherman under them); American McGee's Alice (again natch -- Arthur was a successful Harper in Oxford Hold, as they're generally the teachers on Pern, with Bumby being a healer -- though not one anyone likes); Discworld (with none other than Vetinari running the Weyr! Sybil is Weyrwoman and breeds whers (a stumpier version of a dragon that can't fly, but can see better at night for rare night threadfall) in her spare time, and the Watch makes up a wing of dragonriders); and Portal 2 (GLaDOS is the Head Woman of the Lower Caverns, responsible for the day-to-day runnings of the weyr, with Wheatley and Chell as kitchen drudges under her. Also Cave Johnson was former Weyrleader and that was as hilariously horrifying as you think it was).

-->The island consists of Fandom Weyr, a few tithed Holds, and a few small Crafthalls -- for Harpers, Healers, Woodworkers, Metalworkers, Glassmakers, Paper-makers, etc. There's also the Unseen Crafthall, which seems to be doing some odd experiments with the results of some of the other halls. . .

-->The dragons and fire lizards of the island have developed some genetic mutations thanks to being largely isolated from the mainland (obviously, they can teleport there if necessary, but mostly they stick to their own turf). In the fire lizards, this has resulted in new colors (all the noncanon colors from Nest o'Flitts); in the dragons, it's resulted in the standard Impression rules (het women on golds, het men generally on bronzes and browns, gay men generally on blues and greens, with the occasional woman on the latter) relaxing. While queen golds still seem to Impress to women exclusively, all other colors now Impress to anyone of any sex or sexuality. There's also more steps taken to ensure the safety of candidates on the sand -- Vetinari is not in favor of potentially useful people getting injured or killed by anxious baby dragons trying to find their life partner!

-->The whole "mating flight" thing, where the feelings of a dragon getting ready to mate kind of overwhelm their rider, still happens, but all candidates for dragonriding are told immediately about this sort of thing, and steps are taken to ensure that nobody feels used in the aftermath of a mating flight (mainly by having couples stay together during flights so they'll have sex with someone they know and trust instead of possibly a random stranger). Incidentally, this sort of thing is why Alice turns down the offer of becoming a dragon rider when she gets it -- she does not want any part of that. (Victor is disqualified because he can't stand going between -- a dark, airless, sensationless place that dragons visit when they teleport. Gee, I wonder why my Victor with his established fear of total darkness wouldn't like it?)

-->I'm still figuring out how Corpse Bride would happen here -- there's no real "magic" on Pern (it's actually sci-fi! Though you do have telepathy and telekinesis), so I'm not sure how Victor encountering Emily would work. Currently I have it as he just finds her corpse while out practicing for his upcoming arranged marriage, figures out who she was, and exposes a visiting Barkis as a murderer as a result, but. . . *waggles hand* American McGee's Alice is a little easier -- Bumby trying to kill the whole family for Lizzie rejecting him, Alice spending years in a catatonic state in a place of healing, Bumby taking over her case once she wakes up, and Alice learning the truth and killing him in revenge can happen regardless of location. I figure she goes holdless for a while to escape the law before being picked up by a dragon searching for new riders.

I also wrote two pieces of fic (I tried to "Pern up" some of the names in these, but I don't know if I would continue to do so going forward -- trying to remember to misspell them is a bit of a pain in the ass):

Parole Officer -- Vitor and Aliss meet the Weyrleader and discover what he has in mind for them

The Unlikeliest Dragonrider -- Vitor and Aliss attend a Hatching at Fandom Weyr, and someone very unlikely Impresses. . .

So yeah, that's my other possible Pern AU. Dunno if anything more will come out of it -- obviously I put a LOT more effort into Pern Crash, where I'm on more familiar ground setting-wise -- but it makes a fun thought exercise, doesn't it?

[anony-mouse-writer]

well if netflix is allowed to give us a crappy washed out edgelord version of winx, then im allowed to post my weird worldbuilding takes on winx club that ive been making for the last year and a half since i rewatched the show. (also i watched the 4kids version so apologies about the names)

general worldbuilding: the three schools of magix are there to train the defenders of the realms.

red fountain trains paladins and knights to protect the kingdoms and their people.

alfea trains magic users to protect the magic of the realms with a concentration on personal transformation and growth.

cloud tower trains magic users to protect the realms themsleves with a concentration on study and magical artificery. because of the rogue witches who tried to steal the dragonfire, there has been a certain amount of tension between the witches and everyone else for a few decades.

bloom: is slightly... odd growing up. sometimes her eyes glow and her base temp is a few degrees higher than is strictly healthy and she is drawn to warm spaces like lizards or cats. her mom invests in a greenhouse extension for her flowershop and no one comments on the hammock bloom strings up to sleep in. she says she’s never picked any major or job in the future because she’s okay where she is at the flower shop, but really its because she feels like shes missing something important and can’t figure it out. it doesn’t go away completely when she gets alfea either, but when she finally gets to sparks/domino, she realizes its because she is carrying the embodiment of an entire realm’s magic in her and that kinda messes up your magic a bit.

stella: solaria has several branches of royalty, but they are mainly split into the three solar courts and the lunar and stellar courts. her father is the king of the first solar courts and her mother is the queen of the lunar court. after their divorce, stella spent far more time dealing with courtly intrigue than she did practicing magic and she ends up getting held back a year at alfea due to missing several fundamental lessons. she tends to be more concerned with official standing and presentation than power or magics, but her alfea/red fountain friends are helping to teach her how normal non-manipulative friendships work.

shes sort of friends with prince skye and squire brandon and when they were kids they came up with a half-cocked plan where she married skye and dated brandon in secret and skye could fall in love with whoever he wanted and then they would be stella’s attendent so it was all covert. it was not a great plan, but it did involve several awkward third-wheeling dates on skye’s behalf and he has so much friendly blackmail in the two of them.

tecna: tecna comes from a planet where instinctual magic is a dying art. if anything, most magic users end up at cloud tower to study artificery, but tecna is determined to learn about raw magic and its applications in magi-tech. magi-tech is different from artificery because artifacts are meant to be used by magic users usually for magical or combative purposes whereas magi-tech is mean to be used by anyone for everyday applications (ie scanners, holograms, etc)

tecna’s species dosn’t have innate genders, but instead pick their gender presentations as they grow older (if at all). tecna picks female so she can attend alfea, but eventually realizes that female feels right and starts to wear less androgynous outfits on ocassion.

musa: musa’s mom used classical instruments (chinese classical, not western) and her dad used a lot more contemporary styles and tools, but together, they produced beautiful music. when her mom died, her dad grew to resent the classical instruments that reminded him of her and musa grew up with only contemporary influences. musa meets galitea (the other fairy from harmonix) in her second year of school and they have long discussions (and eventually jam sessions about musa’s inexperience with any classical or traditional instruments. musa starts to learn the flute and a few of the instruments her mom left her in secret and only tells her dad about it during the concert where she performs with them for the first time. she goes on to make fusion classical/contemporary music.

musa still has an arc with riven, but after season 1 when they break up, she spends season 2 out of any romantic relationships and season 3 realizes she has feelings for galitea. im still not sure if i want her coming to terms with her bisexuality to be tied to her coming to terms with classical music or not.

flora: floras people can talk to plants. this makes eating plants awkward. ergo, floras people are obligate carnivores who also gain energy via photosynthesis. flora is a scientist first and foremost. she studies and wants to develop new ways for plants to thrive in foreign environments without becoming invasive species and is working with both magi-tech and pure magic to find ways for people to get the most out of plants for various medicinal and magical purposes without causing any harm to the plants.

she also works on humanoid-floral communications and spends a lot of time with pumpkin-mytra and later human-myrta learning to break curses which was not her original plan but it was Very Important and so she learned it and ten it was kinda fun so she stuck with it.

layla/aisha: her parents traditional views and ideas are important to them and to ruling tides. aisha has little choice but to accept them and has no outlet for her true self for a long time, leading to some heavy suppression and anxiety. when she gets to meet the pixies, she makes friends for the first time and they teach her a bit about being herself. she still has struggles with expressing her true feelings and swings between respecting her kingdom’s traditions and resenting them for making her be someone she’s not for so long. as she develops as a person and a fairy, she learns eventually to reconcile the two in a way that might not please her parents entirely, but allows for growth and tradition both. she gets along weirdly well with stella who helps her on this journey a lot.

aisha also spends time with fairies and red fountainers (and later possibly even some witches) coming up with better communication lines and various protections for magical creatures who don’t necessarily have specific realms (ie the pixies) since they lack any kind of protection from larger threats besides their own.

other characters:

daphne is a from the fairy school of magic so her job was to protect the magic of sparks/domino when the rogue witches attacked, so she stuffed it (aka the dragonfire) into the crown princess and hid her on a null planet so the coven couldnt find it.

myrta not only moves from the witches school of magics to the fairy school of magics, but she is trans. she gets an arc where flora and later helia help her to figure out her powers and also how to be comfortable as her own person outside of her friendships with lucy or even flora.

riven is a good fighter but a better mage. he wants to best his peers in fighting, and hates that he feels he call of magic pretty strongly. darcy takes advantage of this and encourages him to abandon his magic while draining him of his power. when he is chased from cloud tower and falls, he uses his skills in tandem with a bit of magic to survive. he remains wary of his powers, but eventually learns to accept them and learns to be a mage and a fighter which is Simply Not Done, but honestly at this point riven is done listening to everyone else so he does what he wants and becomes great at both.

the trix spend season one pretending to be regular witches. they play up the ‘mean girls’ routine and spend a lot of time stirring chaos and malcontent at cloud tower. when they finally give up the pretense and try to take the dragon fire for real, they lose a bit of the mean girls vibe and work towards the rogue witch coven’s goal of stealing the magic of various realms. their work in cloud tower does not dissapear and there is a time where a lot of witches have to unlearn a lot of toxic behavior and it sucks a lot.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #51: Sakata Kintoki

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re building Mama Raikou’s golden boy and lover of all things golden, Sakata Kintoki! Kintoki is a Sorcerer/Barbarian with a level of druid(we had to get Speak with Animals from somewhere), with flashy attacks and a golden personality.

Check out the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or the golden summary over here.

Race and Backround

Sakata Kintoki is half-youkai half-dragon, so definitely not a human for once. We’ll make him the most golden of playable races, the Gold Dragonborn. This gives him +2 Strength, +1 Charisma, Fire Resistance, and a Breath Weapon that deals 2d6 fire damage in a 15′ cone, with a dexterity save to take half damage. You can use it once per day, and it has a save DC of 8+your constitution modifier + your proficiency. That number’s going to come up a lot, so write it down.

Kintoki was raised by a witch out in the mountains, so he’s an Outlander, getting proficiency in Athletics and Survival. Turns out having a cannibal for a mother seriously stunts your social growth as a kid.

Stats:

Your highest stat is going to be your Strength. You saw that pic at the top of this post, right? He’s clearly pretty beefy. Second to your strength is your Constitution, your golden body is doing you many favors here. Your eyes are beautiful enough to distract oni, and you’re also a really nice guy overall, so your Charisma is third. Dexterity is fourth; it’s not bad, but we need other stuff more. Your Wisdom is fifth: animals tend to like you, but you also have a habit of killing them. Finally, dump Intelligence. This isn’t because of your Madness Enhancement; you just never had a proper education, bar one from Raikou who is another berserker.

Class Levels:

1. Barbarian 1: Kintoki is (surprise surprise) a barbarian! Your golden muscles give you an Unarmored Defense based on your dexterity can constitution, and you can Rage to resist physical damage, gain advantage on strength checks, and deal extra damage with strength based attacks.

First level barbarians are proficient in Strength and Constitution saves, and two barbarian skills. You can literally talk to animals, so Animal Handling is a shoe-in. You also hunt them, which is pretty intimidating, so Intimidation is also a good pick.

For weapons, grab a Battleaxe. Your weapon might not be as big as herc’s, but you can charge it up with the golden power of lightning! Later.

2. Sorcerer 1: Your dad was a dragon, and your race only gave fire powers, so you had to know this was coming. In your story he was a red dragon, but we’ll have to change things around to get lightning powers. Your dad wasn’t that golden, both in the sense that he’s Bronze here, and in the sense that the only time he shows up in your story is when you’re conceived.

Having a bronze Dragon Ancestor doubles your proficiency (where applicable) for charisma checks involving dragons. Your Draconic Resilience gives you an extra HP when you take a sorcerer level, and gives you an unarmored AC of 13+your dexterity modifier. That doesn’t stack with your barbarian defense, but it is better than it right now.

You also get Spells at this level, cast with your charisma. At first level, you get four cantrips, and two first level spells. Booming Blade lets you charge up your ax to force enemies to stay where you can see them, dealing thunder damage if they move the turn after you hit. Friends is your first application of your special eyes, letting you charm others. Light lets you wrap an item in golden lightning to help your dumb lizard eyes see in the dark, and Shocking Grasp lets you apply a nasty surprise to those dorks who fight with a shirt on, and gets rid of their reactions.

For first level spells, Witch Bolt lets you arc your lightning at a distance, using your action to continue the attack. Expeditious Retreat lets you dash as a bonus action while concentrating, giving you a golden opportunity to blast into the thick of combat.

3. Barbarian 2: Second level barbarians can make Reckless Attacks, letting you make a golden strike this turn, but puts you in a distinctly ungolden position until your next turn. You also get a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saving throws that you can see the cause of, like spells and traps. Seeing them might be tricky with those sunglasses though.

4. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, gaining sorcery points equal to their level that they can use to regain spell slots without rests. Speaking of spells, Charm Person lets you charm a person with those special eyes of yours. Just be careful where you point them.

5. Barbarian 3: Third level barbarians set down a primal path. Storm Herald barbarians get one of three Storm Auras, which extend out from them by 10′ and cause effects with a DC that is the same as your breath weapon (8+constitution modifier + proficiency). When you start your rage, and as a bonus action while raging, you can call down lightning on one enemy within range, forcing a dexterity save to prevent half of 1d6 Lightning damage.

6. Barbarian 4: Use your first ASI to round out your Strength for bigger hits and bump up your Wisdom by one. I promise we’re going somewhere with this.

7. Barbarian 5: Fifth level barbarians get an Extra Attack, letting you make two weapon attacks per attack action. Buster cards are great, but you have to switch it up every once in a while. Multiple attacks are good for you. You also get Fast Movement, adding 10′ to your movement speed while wearing less than heavy armor.

8. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers get Metamagic, the golden feature of sorcery that lets you customize your spells. Empowered Spell lets you reroll a number of damage dice from a spell, up to your charisma modifier. Rolling a bunch of ones isn’t golden, so just don’t do it. Elemental Spell from the Class Feature Variants UA lets you swap out the acid, cold, fire, or thunder damage from a spell and replace it with lightning for only 1 sorcery point. There’s more you can do with it, but that’s what we’re using it for. Your golden soul causes all your magic to be just as golden.

For your spell, Enhance Ability makes one of your or a creature you target’s ability checks golden for up to a minute with concentration. If you choose strength, the target’s carrying capacity is doubled, dexterity lets them fall up to 20 feet without taking damage, and constitution gives them some temporary HP.

9. Barbarian 6: Sixth level storm heralds get a Storm Soul. Your golden soul lets you resist lightning damage, breathe underwater, and gives you a 30′ swimming speed. I don’t think those last two come up in FGO, but your Wikipedia article does show baby you hanging out on the back of a fish, so you’re at least good at holding your breath.

10. Sorcerer 4: Use your next ASI to bring your Wisdom up to multiclassing standards. For spells, grab the cantrip Acid Splash. All your attacks so far only target one person, so being able to lob a couple golden bombs around thanks to Elemental spell could come in handy. If you continue to insist on wearing your sunglasses indoors, you’ll also need to have Darkvision on hand if you want to see anything.

11. Druid 1: Kintoki was kind of a wild child, so why not have a bit of magic from the wilds? First level druids know Druidic, a written language indecipherable to non-druids. You also get a couple spells that are cast with wisdom. Thunderclap to make even more noise, and Resistance to make yourself just a bit tougher. You can also prepare first level spells now, but we’re just here for Speak With Animals.

12. Barbarian 7: Seventh level barbarians have a Feral Instinct, ensuring all your initiative rolls stay golden. Being surprised isn’t golden, so you can also ignore that if you rage immediately on your first turn.

13. Barbarian 8: Use your next ASI for more Constitution for better lightning, fire, and HP. Constitution’s just a really good stat for you, huh?

14. Barbarian 9: Ninth level barbarians get a Brutal Critical, letting you add 1 extra die to an attack when you roll a natural 20. You were always golden, but now you shine just a bit brighter.

15. Barbarian 10: Tenth level storm heralds have a Shielding Storm, letting you extend your lightning resistance to other creatures of your choice within your Storm Aura. Look at your party, now back to me. Now back to your party. Now your party is golden too.

16. Barbarian 11: Eleventh level barbarians go into a Relentless Rage, meaning if you drop to 0 hp while raging you can make a constitution save to not do that. A success leaves you at 1 hp, and the DC of the save goes up until your next rest.

17. Barbarian 12: Use your last ASI to bump up your Charisma for a stronger force of personality and better sorcerer saves.

18. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level dragon sorcerers have an Elemental Affinity, letting you add your charisma modifier to the damage of spells that deal Lightning damage. When casting such a spell, you can also spend 1 sorcery point to resist lightning damage for an hour, but you already do that for free.

Speaking of spells that deal lightning damage, Lightning Bolt deals a lot of lightning damage, and reaches up to 100 feet away from you, while also setting everything it hits on fire.

19. Barbarian 13: We’re almost done here, but your Brutal Critical adds another die to your golden crits. 

20. Barbarian 14: With your final level, you become a Raging Storm. Sea-based storm heralds force creatures within their aura to make a strength save when hit. On a failure, they’re knocked prone. The book says it’s “as if [they were] struck by a wave”, but let’s be real for a golden moment. You’re a golden guy swinging around a big, golden ax. Of course people are gonna be falling over you.

Pros: 

You have pretty good range for a berserker, with your lightning blasts covering way more ground in a turn than you could. 

You resist a lot of common damage types: bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing while in a rage, and fire and lightning naturally. That’ll make your generous health pool go a long way. 

Unlike most builds that focus on using one type of damage, you have a lot of regular strength to back it up. Even if you run into something with immunity to lightning damage you’ve still got a big ax to stick in its face.

Cons: 

Like with Spartacus, rages and magic don’t blend together well. 

Your AC is really low since it didn’t get any improvements while leveling up. Even worse, we can’t just put on better armor to deal with it thanks to that one level of druid. It’s a good thing you resist most of the damage you’ll be taking, because you’ll be taking a lot. 

Your spells/spell-like abilities split up your casting abilities, so you’re not as golden as you could be at either. The saves on both your rage lightning and spell lightning aren’t bad, but they could’ve been higher if you’d have focused on just one.

Still, you don’t have to be the best, just be your best. Now go out there and make your mama proud.

Next up: We’re doing the monster mash!

[sweetteaanddragons]

How to Train Your (Evil) Dragon

A/N: I’d been wanting to write this for a while, and the five sentence prompt I recently wrote finally pushed me over the edge. Definite thanks is owed to the actual HtTYD.

Also, fair warning, this gets progressively crackier as it goes on.

. . . 

Dear Mother,

Someday, I’ll find a way to actually send these to you.

In the meantime, interesting news continues to accumulate! We ran into an exciting new creature on patrol this morning that looked something like a lizard, if a lizard happened to be the size of a horse. I’d include a sketch, but I’m afraid my drawing skills are as dismal as you remember.

My skills with the sword, however, are better than ever - I was able to drive the beast off before anyone was more than slightly injured! I think it may lose one leg entirely. Unfortunately, our pursuit failed, and I was not able to finish it off, but there is another patrol planned for tomorrow; perhaps I can find it then.

There is still no news from Turgon and Aredhel, but as I recently assured Father, that is no reason to fear the worst. If the worst had come to past, surely the Enemy would have found some way to taunt us with it.

I wish dearly that Father would let me go in search of them, but he insists he needs me here. I confess, I feel better keeping him in sight as well  - 

In better news, Maedhros’s letter has arrived after all; later than I expected, but the news in it is good, and my fears are much allayed. We are holding the line, and that’s the most important thing.

I hope you don’t worry too much.

All my love, 

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I have found the beast! A minor rockfall down by the river pinned its tail and has kept it trapped. When I found it, it had given up hope of pulling itself free and was sulking about it. It looked rather more like a cat than anything else, and I almost laughed.

. . . Which brings us to my next point.

It just looked so helpless, lying there like that, and I’d gotten a bit separated from the rest of the patrol - don’t look at me like that, I was perfectly safe - and it just felt, well, wrong to kill it. When else will we have an opportunity like this, to see if we can save one of the beasts Morgoth has corrupted? Don’t I have a duty to try?

And no, before you ask, this has nothing to do with the whispers I’ve been hearing about thralls -

I promise this will end better than the bear cub I brought home in Aman. And the fox. And that hawk.

This time, everything will work out perfectly.

I’ve started by feeding it fish.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

Day Three of my new project! I am now almost certain that my new friend is male, and he has stopped hissing at me when I approach. Admittedly, this is probably because I continue to bring him fish, but still: progress!

Between the need to actually fish for the fish, for lack of a better phrase, and my attempts to train the horse-lizard (definitely need a better phrase), this has been taking up a larger portion of my time than is easy to conceal from Father. He has been starting to make jokes that are not actually jokes about my riding off into the unknown like Turgon. I’m not sure what to tell him. I want to be further into my project before I try to sell him on it.

So I tried to drop hints that I was actually sneaking away to have the kind of assignations that might eventually end in grandchildren, which successfully distracted him.

If this continues long enough, I might actually have to find a baby somewhere.

I can picture you laughing at me. I wish you were here.

I will try to come up with a better name than lizard-horse soon. I also need a name for this specific lizard-horse, which I admit is harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I can come up with a sneaky way to ask Maedhros to ask Maglor. Celegorm might also be of some help - with the training, not the naming - but I’m pretty sure he still isn’t speaking with me. According to Maedhros, this is because the last time they met, Aredhel wasn’t speaking to him, so now that she’s disappeared, I have to fill in as a proxy.

No, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

Day 12 of my project! I am spared of calling my new friend a horse-lizard by the wit of one of the people who was on patrol with me; she has taken to calling it a dragon, and I like the sound of it so well that I’ve decided to adopt it. My particular dragon I have decided to call Glaurung.

He gave me a bit of a fright today when he unexpectedly breathed out sparks while I was doing my best to mend his leg, but there was no true harm done, and I think he looked a bit sorry afterwards. He is beginning to look genuinely happy to see me when I come, and I harbor some small, probably foolish, hope that it’s not just excitement for the fish.

Father has begun to poke around to try to find out just who I’m having assignations with; I might actually have to start courting someone to satisfy him.

Or I could come clean, I suppose, but my other idea sounds easier. No luck finding a suitable and available baby to claim so far, but my efforts continue unabated!

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

Glaurung can talk! He said his very first word today! It was “fish.” I am very proud and am now attempting to get him to say my name. The first letters are the same; how hard could it be?

I stay longer and longer to sit and talk with him now. Hopefully it will help him learn to speak. Once he can actually hold a conversation, I feel I can present him to Father. 

I’m more hesitant than ever to do so before I can be sure how Father will react. He would be perfectly right to be cautious, of course, but I hate the thought of having to see Glaurung dead. I feel responsible for him now, and I want to protect him if I can, as ridiculous as that may seem directed towards a being that successfully started a fire for me yesterday.

In other news, Glaurung apparently now prefers his fish cooked.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I have finally freed Glaurung from where his tail was pinned. I confess I had some lingering fear that he would attack or at least wander off, but now that I see the damage, that concern has lessened greatly. He will need a good deal of help before he is ready to do that.

Please don’t worry. I’m being very careful, I promise.

In unrelated news, I discovered dragons can purr if you pet them just exactly right.

All my love,

Fingon

. . . 

Dear Mother,

Glaurung did a bad thing today.

He has been growing at an incredible rate, and I’m afraid my fishing skills are struggling to keep up with him. Today he wanted more fish when all I had left was the one I had intended for my own lunch. When I told him no, the strangest look came over his eyes, and suddenly I found myself bringing him the fish anyway despite my intention.

Fortunately, I snapped out of it before I could actually give him the fish, and I suppose no great harm would have come of it even I had, but the incident still alarms me. His fire is getting stronger. What if this does too?

Well, hopefully I can train it out of him. Immediately after I snapped out of it, I poured the bucket of water I’d brought him over his nose, and he reacted exactly as a cat would, sputtering and indignant, so that will be my new strategy: All misbehavior will be greeted with a liberal application of water. Perhaps I’ll see if one of the artisans can create something a little more manageable for the task than a bucket.

On the bright side, his language skills are improving! He asked for that fish in a full sentence. I’m very proud. Is this what parenting feels like?

Meanwhile, I think Father has questioned every eligible Noldorin woman in Hithlum. Presumably he’ll move on to the Sindar next; I don’t know what he’ll do when he runs out of those.

Possibly I should have come up with a different excuse.

Maedhros’s next letter has arrived, by the way. I referred to my project very discreetly in my last to him, but apparently it was not discreet enough, because he sounded rather alarmed. I’m torn between telling him the whole truth and obfuscating so he doesn’t feel the need to lie to Father on my behalf. 

I’ll just tell him I’ve gotten a cat. A very large cat. That breathes fire.

Maybe not that last part.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I now have a special bottle that sprays water when I push a little trigger at the top. I like it very much, and after extensive and absolutely necessary practice on various rocks, I have taken to carrying it with me when I go see Glaurung. Unfortunately, this has proven necessary. Twice more he has attempted that eye trick, both times in attempts to get more fish, but after the last attempt he seemed resigned to failure. I also take heart from the fact that he is now fully healed and could easily leave to survive on his own, but instead he has stayed here, seemingly perfectly content to stay with me. In fact, I’ve had to use the spray bottle once or twice to keep him from following me back to the fort.

(I am getting increasingly tempted to use the spray bottle on Father whenever he brings up the woman I am supposedly seeing, but I doubt I would find as good a result. In hindsight, I really should have found a different excuse to use.)

In cheerier news, I can have full conversations with Glaurung now! His own contributions remain simple, but he is improving greatly.

I also have a confession to make: I told you that I was teaching him to speak. I did not tell you that I was teaching him Quenya.

Keeping that secret from you of all people was spectacularly pointless, I know, seeing as you aren’t actually reading these, but I was afraid to commit the words to paper in case these were ever found.

You have to understand, it just seemed so natural! I was alone, doing something secret, so naturally I would use -

Well. I suppose when Father finds out, the sticking point about the dragon will probably not be what language he speaks. On the other hand, when Thingol finds out . . . 

Maybe I should start teaching him Sindarin.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I have a baby!

Admittedly, I’m increasingly concerned about the provenance of said baby, but Caranthir’s not talking, and Father’s already seen the baby, so it’s too late to back out now.

. . . Though maybe I should back up just a little.

You see, a few letters ago, I’d mentioned to Maedhros that I needed a baby, mostly because I was too tired to think about what I was writing, and then the messenger took it before I could -

Anyway. Maedhros, being the supportive cousin that he is - and also, notably, having survived Feanor’s determination to have 49 grandchildren at minimum - assumed that I had legitimate reasons to want said baby: Namely, Father pressuring me to get to work preserving the line of Finwe by providing more heirs.

Which shouldn’t be necessary but given that we still don’t know what happened to Turgon, Aredhel, and little Idril - 

Which, to be fair to Maedhros, was much more sensible than what was actually going on.

In my defense, I didn’t actually expect Maedhros to - to do whatever it is he did. I thought he would commiserate a little, maybe, and that would be the end of it.

But no. Caranthir is here with the horses he wants to trade for some of our stock, and he brought with him the tiniest, most perfect baby I’ve ever seen.

I’m going to call him Gil-Galad.

I know, I know! I shouldn’t be naming the baby before I’m sure I’ll get to keep him, and I shouldn’t decide I’m going to keep him before I can get Caranthir to cough up more than, “Don’t worry about it,” when I ask where he came from.

But Caranthir managed to smuggled the baby into my arms right before Father walked in, saw it, and jumped to the obvious conclusion, so if I do end up having to give the baby up, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Actually, I already have a lot of explaining to do because I might have panicked a little bit when Father saw me with the baby.

And by ‘panicked a little bit,’ I mean that when he said, “You have a baby?” I may have, possibly, blurted out, “I also have a dragon.”

So, as I write, Father’s getting kitted up to go meet said dragon.

Do you think Gil-Galah’s too young to come along?

All my love,

Fingon

[tonystarkbingo]

Tony Stark Bingo Prompt Meme

So, we did another Prompt Meme game, and came up with these summaries based on a three-tag prompt. This is an open prompt, if any of these summaries look like fun to you, please feel free to write them!! Tag us or the writer of the prompt when you do so we can all see how cool you are and what you’ve given us for the promot

@summerpipedream - Winteriron - All Tony wanted to do after finishing up at MIT was to pack up his desk at Stark Industries and quietly fade into obscurity. Sure money was tight, but he never expected Jan to actually sign him up for one of those social media reality shows. Now, he was stuck in a house, with no phone, no internet, or access to the outside world, trying to avoid the sexy Bucky Barnes, who's mission in life seemed to be to never wear a shirt around him.

@darthbloodorange - The world is ending, an alien race has all but taken over the world, it is an apocalypse of devastating proportions, most of the world is dead. The Avengers, those who are left, have retreated to a bunker built a fourth of the way down into the Earth’s core. Tony and Steve have been growing closer, when they are not working together to find a way to fight back against the aliens, they are fuck buddies. Tony’s a genius, he knows the odd of surviving this are not in their favour. Odds were that they were going to die… and well, Tony doesn’t want to die without letting Steve know how he feels. Before the battle Tony corners Steve in the armoury and confesses that he loves him. Steve is aromatic, has been since project rebirth.  They are both so very sorry. 

@newnewyorker93 - After a series of strange killings where the victims are found set up kneeling like they're praying, Tony Stark (a private detective) is on the case. An initial (false) suspect is the local priest, Matt Murdoch, who ends up being a helpful ally in solving the case (and possibly more)

@27dragons - Winteriron: You'd think that Tony Stark would have learned to ski when he was growing up. You'd think wrong; Howard never saw the point in it. So here he is, almost done with his PhD, and his friends have decided on a spring break trip to go skiing. He doesn't want to admit to them that he doesn't know how, so their first night at the lodge, he offers one of the ski instructors a large sum of money to sneak him up onto the slopes for a few lessons that night. Against his better judgment -- but desperately needing the cash -- Ski instructor Bucky Barnes takes Tony up on the slopes. Unfortunately, just as Tony's starting to get the hang of things, it starts snowing. Hard. Even more unfortunately, the newfallen snow disguises a patch of ice and Tony tumbles out of control. By the time Bucky catches up to him and verifies that he's not badly hurt, the snow is coming down too hard to see the lodge -- so what else are they to do but seek shelter in a caretaker's cabin conveniently (TM) nearby and wait for morning...?

@gavilansblog - Tony is kidnapped as part of an Evil Plot (TM). He's handling things just fine, tyvm, until his would-be rescuer (who he's been pining for, obviously), gets dragged in and handcuffed back to back with him. Seriously, dude? If you insist on breaking the kidnapping procedure at least actually rescue me! The taxes come in when the Evil Plot Master does his monologue and reveals that the kidnapping is part of a Villain Logic scheme to get Stark Industries to throw money behind the campaign to get a new law requiring actually taxing billionaires to fail. Evil Plot Master is, naturally, a billionaire. Tony would facepalm if he weren't handcuffed to his idiot rescuer, seriously. And then the kidnapping protocol kicks in and Jarvis shuts the whole facility down only instead of being handcuffed by himself Tony is now handcuffed to his rescuer so they have to do the whole escaping part of the plan while handcuffed together, resulting is the standard Tension (TM) moments and possibly an almost-kiss.

Fey Relay - Bruce, Tony, and Peter, resident science geeks, get de-aged and really want to play in the lab. You know, the one that has lots of things that can kill them in it? But they're still sort of mentally in there, just cranky and smol. So they get assigned their own Non-Science Adults who they hand-hold and point to do their sciency bidding. Thor, Steve, and Natasha oblige them and have great fun!

@rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter Dragons were real. Okay they were actually just souped-up dinosaurs, but that didn’t mean Tony wasn’t being hunted—with intent—by lizards. He hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid Island in the first place. SI funding had explicitly been removed from the crackpot idea to return dinosaurs to the food chain. He could have told everyone that this was going to happen. Instead he was climbing through a jungle with a one-armed man who refused to give his name and if they didn’t get to the raptor enclave, retrieve the anti-venom, and return in time, people Tony loved were going to die.

His guide had better live up to his scruffy wild-man appearance or Tony was going to lose everything.

@somesortofitalianroast - Nurse Bucky Barnes wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. The vigilante known as Nomad had just crashed through the (luckily) open fire escape window. While he was lucky not to have any broken bones, he was unlucky enough to have a bad concussion. A really bad one. One that meant he couldn’t fall asleep. Also unfortunately, he only had the one bed and the enormous Nomad wouldn’t fit on his couch, so they’d have to share. It was only after he helped Nomad into his bed that he noticed the blood, and, unthinking, he pulled the cowl off to check for another, serious injury. And gasped. Nomad was Steve Rogers, his best friend in school, who’d died in an IED attack in Iraq 5 years earlier.

@polizwrites Natasha Romanov and Virginia Potts are the proprietors  of  Chaykus -  a Russian tea room on the seedy side of town.  Its new mission  is to be a sanctuary for women  who have been smuggled into the country for sex trafficking purposes.  As for the men who engage in such practices? Well, they are quickly discovering that their days are numbered.

@dixiehellcat - Pepper is the manager of the heavy metal band War Machine. James Rhodes, lead guitarist and founder of the band, is looking for a new lead singer. He did not expect the woo-loving Virginia to get horoscopes cast for the applicants and decide based on that. He just wants somebody who can sing, dammit. This Stark kid is uncomfortably attractive, yeah, but he's been thrown out of two bands already. what? the shower sex? it was only that one time after a show, and they were both wasted...

@dracusfyre Tony was born without a soul mark. Bucky's was lost forever when Hydra took his arm.  Without the universe to give you a hint that this person is The One, falling in love is gambling with your heart. But soulmates don't have to be born, they can be made - and Bucky and Tony decide that the same should be true of soul marks, as well

@ceealaina Tony was like nerd prime growing up. Normally he doesn’t let it bother him too much — he’s got inventions to invent, after all. But all of a sudden he realizes that he’s almost 20, he’s got two degrees under his belt, and has no idea how to do much more than kiss. He’s not entirely sure how he manages to convince Rhodey to sleep with him to “get it out of the way,” or how he manages to convince him to keep sleeping with him to “help improve my technique,” but it’s the best sex of his life (not that he has much to compare it to) and he never wants it to end. But it’s the night when they’re watching movies, and Tony’s ends up dozing against Rhodey’s shoulder only to wake up to a feather light kiss against his forehead that he realizes he might be in trouble. 

@thudworm - King Anthony considers it part of his royal duties to protect his people by going out and taking care of any monsters harassing them. Of course, no one can know that the knight Iron Man is really the king, which leads to some fun assumptions about Iron Man’s identity.

@jacarandabanyan Tony’s mom forbid him to purposefully drive out his roommates so that he can have a room all to himself where he can tinker until morning light. She had to hear about it from friends, acquaintances, and other well-known socialites often enough when Tony went to boarding school and ran his roommates off there. Now that he’s in college, that behavior must stop. Luckily for Tony, he doesn’t even have to try to get the first two roommates at MIT to request a room switch. But then he meets his third roommate- a tall, handsome, funny man named James Rhodes. At first it was just natural joy at having a fellow competent engineer to hang out with, and perhaps the occasional dirty thought. But his crush on the man quickly grows. Before he knows it, Tony’s pining hard for his best friend. Every once in a while he thinks Rhodey might be interested too- but then he hears Rhodey lecturing a computer science senior for plying Tony with :beer: alcohol at a party because “come on, man, kid’s only 16. Have a little class and try chasing skirts a little closer to your age.” After that, he’s convinced Rhodey will only ever see him as a friend and a kid.

psychiccatpanda - Tony works hard and puts in long hours.  So what if some of his long nights turn into very early mornings at CHew 2 OH.  The only drawback is his business partner and head baker, Steve, with his disappointed looks and his continual arguing.  When Steve's friend Bucky starts hanging around the shop, though, Tony notices.  Oh lord, he notices. A month or so later, one night when he and Steve are working after hours at Steve's place to plan their seasonal menu, Steve tells him that he's noticed him checking out Bucky.  Tony hits him with a decorative pillow and things kind of get out of hand.  Surveying the damage (let's face it - Steve's coffee table was never going to be quite right again), Steve turns to him, "I was just going to suggest you get some practice kissing before asking him out."  Oh.  Oh...

@tisfan So... the problem with being a necromancer is being able to practice one's skill. The local cemeteries won't even let you look at a dead body if you're not a relative. Tony Stark, budding necromancer, forges a marriage certificate for the John Doe so that he can practice his craft. Only to find that it works perfectly. Bucky is No Longer Dead, and 100% interested in staying married...

@abrighterdarkness He didn’t mean to snoop.  He knew that wasn’t what he was being paid for here--the loud laughter of the party echoing from down the hall where he was actually supposed to be, was clear enough reminder of that fact. All Tony wanted was two short minutes to breathe without being pawed at--yes, yes, that might be his job but breathing room was much appreciated just the same--and now he was stuck in this closet sized bathroom with what sounded like a mob-hit being discuss right outside the door.  He knew he should’ve turned this job down.

magica - Howard Stark had an idea. Some people - alright, most people, stop hitting me, Maria! - would say it was a terrible idea. But it was only a little injection of stuff based on that strange glowing blue cube they'd found in the Arctic. And Tony was absolutely willing, let's get that straight, Maria! How was Howard supposed to know that it'd enable Tony to open up his own portals? And if some mystical green energy happened to swamp Tony just as he was opening a portal to Egypt? Well, that wasn't his fault. The dark-haired, well-built Priest of Anubis that Tony manages to bring back with him? That is not his fault either, damn it, Maria!

@festiveferret - Tony could say with absolute confidence - at least, if he could say anything at all in his current predicament - that this was not the way his PR rep, Pepper, would have wanted him to come out. There were, he figured, several hundred ways that the day could have gone better, but if asked to rank the top three, he'd put them thusly: 

1) That he decided to come out by having a wild, unabashed make out session with none other than Captain America, in the middle of a busy New York street.

2) That it was, in fact, the morning after their first "date" - a term he was applying loosely here - and not a tasteful reveal of a long-standing, safe, secure, adult relationship.

And 3) That at some point between the first floor lobby of his apartment building and the front door off his penthouse suite he'd suddenly, unexpectedly, and so-far permanently been turned into a ferret and no one knew.

It would also probably concern her to discover that of all these rather bewildering turns in his life, the one at the forefront of his mind was that ferrets couldn't send morning-after texts, and he didn't want Steve to think their little dalliance had been nothing more than an - albeit unfortunately public - one night stand.

Of one thing he was sure, however: Pepper was going to need a raise.

[dontcallmecarrie]

Fic Idea: WtNV/Twilight crossover

Wherein Bella hails not from Phoenix, Arizona, but from a friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead on a regular basis.

 And dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park.

Fandoms: Twilight (books, probably movies too? Haven’t seen them), Welcome to Night Vale (podcast)

Warnings: everything Welcome to Night Vale-related. [So, cosmic horror, Librarian-caliber violence and gore, etc.] On the other hand, at least there’s semi-healthy relationships, here? Semi-unreliable narrator, because growing up in Night Vale makes for a skewed reference frame re: what is and is not sane and/or impossible.

Under the cut because of reasons. [You know why.]

 Bella's mother and stepfather were a bit whimsical about where they'd end up living, and chose the classic 'throw a dart on a map'.

In one life, the dart might've landed near Phoenix, and the rest would have been history.

In this one, however…Renee's (I think that's what her name is, it's been years since I last touched the books) aim was slightly off when she threw the dart.

Bella still visits her father regularly, of course.

 So she knows some things are slightly off, but thinks it’s Forks that’s pretty weird. She only visits for a few months out of every year, though, so she shrugs it off.

 The older she gets, the more she realizes some things are lost in translation; it's her father that recommends she join the Girl Scouts, but seems to think she's joking when she talks about earning her Controlling Plants with Minds patch., and by the time she's gotten her Radiation Immunity patch she's given up telling him just what her troop gets up to.  

The camping trips, where she befriends Jacob Black and shows off her Surviving in Nature badge skills, merely net her some weird glances, but…eh. Could be worse, though explaining just where she'd gotten her machete from had left everyone involved with more questions than answers.

 Not to mention the Summer Reading Program—the first time Bella survived it, she'd left for Forks not a week later. Charlie had congratulated her for her reading chart, and left it at that.

So she doesn’t really talk about it. Or her Unmodified Sumerian classes, or the bloodstone circles, or…

  Time goes on, and Bella's visiting for less and less time, because the older she gets the more things pile up, and by the time she's reached high school her internship at the radio station means she's busier than ever, running errands for Station Management and Cecil, and simply surviving.

 It's not until StrexCorp shows up, however, that Bella deems it a good idea to visit Charlie again.

Well…it's less her idea, and more 'StrexCorp bought their neighborhood and is working on shutting down Night Vale High and instating their own charter schools in time for her class to graduate and fuck that noise'.

Plus, it's not like she had much cause to stick around, not when Phil and Renee had been planning on doing something for his job prospects [which, incidentally enough, had been something StrexCorp could slightly respect. Go figure].

So, really, between the choice of attending a Desert Bluff school [ugh], or Forks High, it was really a no-brainer for Bella.

 Even if Forks was a kind of weird place.

 …it's been a while, actually.

Turns out, distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it just makes things less weirder. 

[Seriously, just how did younger her not notice some things?]

It's been years, but Bella's still vaguely terrified by how green everything is. The Whispering Forest was five minutes from her house, after all. She wholeheartedly approves of the rain and the various clouds [even if none of them glow here. Weird].

Fork's high school isn't that bad, but Bella sorely misses her Unmodified Sumerian credits.

And she's vaguely confused by everyone's complaining about PE. [It had some very good real-world applications, what was the big deal? Dodging fireballs invoked by black magic was easy, compared to Chad Steinbeck's throwing arm.]

Kinda weird how nonchalant everyone was about their librarians, though by now she's almost used to how everyone laughs whenever she talked about the killer Summer Reading Program. [Younger her had merited a few curious glances when she'd clung to her backpack, as if carrying duct tape and several days' worth of food and water wasn't a perfectly rational thing to have in a library. Weird.]

 And her dad's Police Department must be having severe budget cuts, if his patrol car can't fly and he doesn't even have a balaclava. [So, very, weird.]

She's still fascinated by the Cullens, of course. That's a fundamental constant.

 Except here, Bella's not infatuated, or obsessed-- or, at least, not in a "love at first sight" sort of way.

No, here, Bella still sees the predatory gleam in the Cullen's eyes, and their ethereal beauty. But instead of growing warily curious, she instead feels a pang of homesickness, and resolves to befriend them. [That blonde in particular really reminds her of Jessica Simmons in fifth grade, back before she forgot to check her harness when their Girl Scout troop was earning their Paragliding and Divebombing patches.]

 That Edward guy was more of an afterthought than anything else, actually. Though it was also a new record, too: not even five minutes and he hated her guts, when her personal best was four hours and thirty-seven minutes for a budding blood feud.

 The Cullens, meanwhile, don't know what to think of this new arrival.

 Bella Swan had, in the span of five school days, gone from "flavor of the week" to "what the fuck is she on, or is she just trolling?" with alarming speed.

 Her father had made it well known she had an eccentric sense of humor, but that still didn't quite prepare everyone for her incredible deadpan, or her reactions to the most random things. [Like her incredulity about wheat-based products: what kind of weird diet was she on?]

They’re seeing this eccentric newcomer who smells of sand and mesquite and desert wind [though Edward doesn't know why it's so enticing to him], and are even more confused. Because of their enhanced senses, they can tell Bella's confusion is genuine, and why was she so terrified when Valentine's Day was brought up?

Alice's the one that puts them on alert: trying to see Bella's future gives her a migraine, and flashes of something great and terrible that she can't quantify, a black abyss and yet not and what was she?!

 So, of course, Jasper's equally alarmed, because for something to unnerve his was-committed-to-an-asylum-as-a-human girlfriend…plus her emotions when someone talked about Homecoming should not have been that extreme... 

Edward's fascinated, but also questions his self-control as time passes and Bella's slowly smelling less and less like her former hometown, and more and more appealing to him. On the plus side, at least she's not…overly interested in him? She doesn't smell like it, at least. Huh. [That he can't read her mind is but secondary, at this point.]

Rosalind is so, very befuddled with Bella's fearlessness: she's tried to scare her away, but each time she tries, Bella just springs up and mentions something about scouts and patches and what the hell?!

Emmett's the one in the parking lot, when the accident nearly happens. He's very amused by it all, and has a running bet as to why this new chick's gravitating towards them so much, when he sees Edward gear up to save— holy shit did the new girl just backflip away from the SUV? She did. And talked about summer reading programs being good practice. [What even.]

 Carlisle's also highly interested in the mystery that is Bella Swan. Even ignoring what his family's been saying, he took her vitals after the almost-accident, and the machine broke. Or, at least, that's the only logical explanation as to why the readouts say her blood's irradiated AND poisonous, and carrying trace elements of...something he'd never seen before. [Bella, meanwhile, thinks the orange juice just doesn't taste the same. What was this sugary swill? Orange juice was supposed to be imaginary, with an acrid tang and a sharp aftertaste. Forks was so weird.]

 The Port Angeles thing had Edward very confused, because the would-be rapists' thoughts went from 'easy target' to 'WHERE THE HELL DID SHE GET THAT MACHETE FROM?!' and 'am I seeing things, or is she really throwing textbooks with a slingshot?!' with almost-alarming speed.

And when he pulled up, he couldn’t see it, nor where she could even make that fit.

Huh.

 Bella and the Cullens become friends, and when the vampire thing comes up, she doesn't so much as bat an eye.

 "Hey, Old Woman Josie's got a houseful of Angels. Even if the hierarchy's classified by the City Council. Not to mention Hiram McDaniels, he's literally a five-headed dragon. At least you're not from Desert Bluffs, right?"

 …that's a new one.

Bella's more than happy to answer their questions, too, and that's how the Cullens learn that somehow her cooking was bad enough to get her banned from Desert Bluffs [though why that last one was said with a distinct note of pride, they still didn't quite get].

Her questions, in turn, aren't quite like the ones they'd answered in the past. Carlisle doesn't want to know where Bella got the term Lizard Kings from, or why she thinks he knows where Franchia is [which…what?], or…the list goes on.

Overall, Bella's slightly strange, but perfectly friendly.

[Alice has yet to decide what she makes of Bella's talks about the Monolith, though.]

Edward is actually getting slightly interested in her, but Bella doesn’t exactly have romance at the forefront; she's more than happy to talk about her efforts in helping Night Vale's local Children's Militia[?! Wow was the town creative with names], though, and the first time she touched an oven in their household was  also the last. [How the hell she'd managed to recreate Greek fire was something to ask at a later date.]

 Plus, her strange smell wasn't the least of it, not after what Carlisle had ascertained. Bella's apparent confusion about regrowing appendages aside, turns out her inoculations included stuff for 'Blood-Space War botulism' and 'Librarian-based diphtheria' as well as the usual chicken pox and tetanus.

  Time passes, and things are going well.

 Sure, she smells slightly weird as time goes by, but that's probably because of her unique upbringing, plus it's a gradual thing so the Cullens get used to it fairly easily. Even if the scent of something scorching was slightly off-putting, but then, there was a reason nobody let Bella cook.

Bella's pretty weird, but she's also pretty cool, so it balances out in the end.

Some things just get lost in translation, though. Even now.

The baseball game was…interesting.

Bella's comments about Night Vale's annual Sheriff's Secret Police vs. Firefighters game left everyone looking at her in horror, but it was the nonchalance with which she caught the 120 miles-per-hour baseball that let her into the game.

When the new vampires rock up…hmm. I can't decide.

 Option A: 

Bella smelled not only of mesquite and desert wind, but also an underlying tang of something Other, something not of this world. She was the only one alive to have earned the Blood-Space War patch in her troop, and when they tried to attack she smiled and let the tang of dark magic sear the air warningly.

Option B:

Bella smelled of something Other, and since these newcomers hadn't been there when her smell had gradually changed, the Cullens are wondering why they're freaking out. 

“She smells of monster!"

"What the hell are you talking about?”

Option C:  

She smells more like a local than not; a year out of Night Vale, in a rainy place, meant its distinct aroma had gradually faded. They try to attack, and Bella's ready to go to bat, but no dice.

“I could've taken them!" She mutters petulantly. Bah. Overprotective vampires. Just when she'd been having fun, too.

They're insistent that she flee. Eh, it's been a while, might as well check up on how Renee’s been doing, or if they managed to evict StrexCorp. It's adorable how Edward's so concerned for her health, but really.   

 Their first hint Something's Up is when she pulls out the bloodstone circles.

Specifically, "What the hell are bloodstone circles."

Bella returns to her hometown, at the Cullen's insistence, she might add. It's been a while, and… oh, shit.

"What's the big deal about—mmph!" Edward manages before Bella claps a hand over his mouth.

“Watch your words, it's Street Cleaning Day tomorrow! C'mon, I think I remember a bunker we can hide out in."

"What."

They glimpse the vampires trying to get to them, but then…

"Fuck it, time for the big guns. Let's go the library."

"What."

"Bring a machete, orange juice, and I hope you remember at least some Jane Austen, it might very well save our lives Mr. I Lived A Hundred Years." 

 "What?!" 

 "We have no time, just run!"

Hiding out by the Dog Park is also an acceptable one; the scent means the poor fools try to take on the Hooded Figures, which yeah.

After a crash course as to everything Night Vale, Bella's slightly reluctant to go back to Forks, meanwhile Edward's more than a little freaked out, while the rest of the Cullens are in no better shape. The trip back is in almost complete silence. Bella's asleep, because the library always required a lot of energy, meanwhile the rest of the car's eying her a lot more warily than a few days ago.

She's nursing a sprained wrist from staving off a Librarian, a broken leg from landing the wrong way after sticking an illegal pen on one vampire and a loaf of bread on the other [and thus siccing the Sheriff's Secret Police on both], and a concussion on top of that. Still intimidating anyway; just where had that assault rifle even come from?!

Ah, the joys of having earned her Concealed Weaponry patch during seventh grade…

And that's the end of the events of Twilight.

During New Moon, Bella's not desperately seeking death once the Cullens go MIA.

Either she goes 'welp, getting kind of bored here, oh hey, Jacob! Want to cliff dive?...okay this is actually kind of tame, but at least I'm not as homesick now, thanks!'

Or, she'd go 'my only friends are gone, StrexCorp fucked off from Night Vale, screw it I'm coming home'.

If she were to meet the Volturi, she'd immediately light up and go 'oh hey do you have any relation to the Large Brotherhood of the Small Chamber? Or Night Vale's City Council?' which, in turn, would cause some…interesting reactions. [A facepalm here, a 'oh god I thought we were done with you guys' groan from there, etc. The Cullens are both curious but also don't want to know.]

At some point, an ancient vampire shows up, and Bella’s practicing her Unmodified Sumerian and ignoring everyone’s stares when they realize it’s the human who’s just blasé and talking to this guy in his mother tongue. She’s not fluent, but it’s enough. 

 Where did this idea even come from? Who knows? [Dammit brain]

[claytonzzse686-blog]

11 Creative Ways to Write About Dragon City Review

Strongest Dragons In Anime, Ranked

The only means for you to reproduce a tale dragon is by breeding dragon pairs with either a Pure component or Tale aspect. The probabilities of getting a famous dragon though is pretty reduced clocked at approximately 1% reproducing chance. Degree unique breeds need Both of the Dragon Parents to be at a specific degree prior to they can be created. When you initially begin the game, we recommend you to begin with generation 1 and reproduce a couple high generation dragons. As you relocate better in the game, you will have enough gold to buy more advanced genes to make much more gold.

In the 2013 Law and War update, this system was turned upside down. Pure Dragons are currently purchasable in the store after you get to a certain level, and also can then be reproduced with each other for a small chance at one of the 6 Legendary Dragons.

Added resources will certainly make you uncover brand-new opportunities in the game and there will certainly no more be any restrictions to accomplishing the title of dragonlord. Terra is the fastest at 15 secs, however both parents need to be terra dragons to stay clear of other end results with longer breeding times. , if you do not want to have 2 terras you can reproduce a sea utilizing sea as well as poseidon at 30 secs. . Dragon City is a social media network game launched by Social Factor.

If you choose to eliminate, then you can deduct the Labyrinth coins from that dragons overall maze course expense. Updating your habitats with component symbols will certainly enable you to boost the variety of dragons you can hold at once. This implies that "if" you have about 30% opportunity at obtaining legendary placed dragons, with the rarity booster you will have doubled that amount at 60%. Nonetheless, with the exact same thinking, the result of rarity booster is actually limited when it involves Pure and Pure Aspect mixes. We estimate the opportunity of breeding the Pure placed dragons at about 5 ~ 10%.

Try reproducing or complete in events to get dragons to give you adequate experience if you don't have them. You're either reproducing the wrong dragons, or they have to be a greater degree. Can you tell me every one of the feasible outcomes of reproducing two pure dragons?

Compensate Dragons

Breeding the dragon with element has a possibility to produce the level exclusive dragons if you have a tale dragon.

If you are going to collect the dragon breeds anyways, there is no indicate attempt to invest more gold and even gems to hurry with the unlock process.

The breeding refuge is a brand-new function that let you "unlock" much more breedable dragons as you level up the shelter.

You will certainly see a grid icon bulge after every activity.

As soon as you have actually gathered your 600 Grid Coins for the set 8 hrs duration, those coins will ultimately stop showing up.

It is best if you simply breed through every one of the levels to unlock the holy place progressively.

SEE TO IT YOU DO THE RESEARCH STUDY prior to trying these breeding combinations. Breed efforts without the appropriate study done has 0% possibility of being successful. The best reproduction mix for famous important dragons is by reproducing together Pure + Pure for all of the epic dragon type ranks.

Rumbling Eagles will usually give the MAX amount of coins you can get. By reproducing 2 Thunder Eagles with each other, there is a HIGH chance that you will obtain 50 maze coins SIMPLY by breeding 2 Rumbling Eagles. Our application will permit you to accomplish unlimited quantities of raw materials in the game without needing to pay actual cash. This will enable you to speed up and also expand the island up the reproduction of dragons.

The rarer the dragons you breed, the longer time you need to wait so be a great deal even more individual as the majority of complicated breedings take a great deal even more time than a normal fire dragon. Some difficult-to-get dragons might work as "wild cards," so you may have a little chance of getting a Pure Dragon by breeding Mirror + Mirror, or Epic + Crystal. These dragons are challenging to jump on their own, though, so conserving up to get one is a better method. Nature, terra, dark, water, and also the regular pure one.

In the game, you gather and also breed dragons while likewise building points for your island. The game is just one of one of the most preferred Facebook and mobile video games. This article will detail the top quality of the game nowadays. Clicking any type of dragon will reveal you two points, the amount of keys you require to accumulate prior to you open the dragons course and also what the information of that dragons path are. Be careful that battles are sometimes the last action of a dragons course - and take some time to finish.

Which indicates that the Rarity booster really only efficiently provides you 5% ~ 10% even more. Please keep in mind that we do not have the exact % of breeding opportunities, we just observe that the Rarity booster is dependent on the original "unusual" possibility. Like every one of the readily available dragon breeding dishes dragoncheats noted in this guide. Depending upon the different unique dragon types, we estimate the possibilities to be about 15% ~ 25%. This implies that you may still have to do a couple of tries prior to you can obtain the unique dragons.

Pure Dragons can also be made use of to breed hybrid dragons such as Pure Electric, Pure Dark, and more. I duplicate it, after that I begin farming blue lizards tails. And when I can not do any longer maze coin things I log out. You recognize just how I claimed Hatching And also Breeding give you a great deal of coins?

[lorelylantana]

Chapter Six: Dread

Once again it was Atalanta that woke me for class the next morning. Once I was dressed with Kyrie on my shoulder, I walked with her to class, Luna silently padding behind us. Our first class of the day was History of Ivaline, which was interesting, but most of it I had already read in the book left by the Crystal Keeper. I mentioned this to Daedalus as we were walking to Armed Combat.

“That happens often, everyone’s first year here is essentially giving everyone a chance to catch up. Because new people keep arriving, the teachers can’t give any new material without handing the students from earlier in the year an unfair advantage. This year is mainly to ease the newcomers into life at Spade. The real learning begins next year.” He explained as we made our way into the sparring hall. Once we were all inside a tall woman in her late twenties made her way to the front of the crowd.

“Alright Hatchlings you know what to do, grab your weapons and start practicing. Sage, you’re with me.”  I followed her while my yearmates started to slash and shoot at various targets. She brought me into a shelf at the back of the hall. There were a series of weapons.

“Choose two.” Snapdragon demanded, and I gazed along the various arms thoughtfully, after a while I took a halberd and a norse broadsword. Snapdragon regarded me thoughtfully.

“Interesting choices, but not bad ones. That halberd is different than most, so it has a wider range of attacks and defenses. You have a good eye.”

Snapdragon had me swinging the halberd and sword for the entire day, correcting my strokes and my form until the bell sounded. Then it was off to Basic Weapons Creation and Care, where Professor Wren, a small, birdlike man, taught us how various weapons were made and how to properly maintain them to ensure best performance and durability. Compared to the previous classes, it was a bit monotonous, and I was almost relieved to be back in the Sparring Hall, even if Snapdragon had us do physical conditioning for the full ninety minutes with only five minute breaks in between exercises. I hurried to lunch as quickly as my aching muscles would allow. On my way, I caught sight of the girl I saw at Muse headquarters, and accosted her.

“Hey your a Muse right? I’m Allie. What’s your name?” I greeted. She looked taken aback, and shied away slightly.

“I’m Kennedia, and yes I am. May I ask why?” She answered timidly, as if unsure whether I would be offended by her question. I tried to sound more friendly when I responded.

“It’s just that I thought you might know your way around the library, and maybe you could help me investigate something.” When she heard my answer, she seemed more sure of herself.

“What do you want to know?” She asked excitedly, and I couldn’t help but smile as I told her. When she saw the dragon around my neck, her eyes sparked with recognition.

“I might know what that is, come by my room after dinner, it’s the green one in the middle of the hall, I’ll have more information then.” With that, she sat down by the boy I saw her with in the library. I sat by Atalanta and Daedalus.

“Is there a reason Snapdragon works us so hard? That was brutal.” I complained, and Daedalus looked on sympathetically.

“I know what you mean. After a few months it gets easier, in fact, I’ve only been here for five months and it’s so normal I don’t get sore anymore.” He tried to reassure me, but I didn’t feel any better.

“It’s all part of being a Spade,” Atalanta interjected, “We live in a land blessed by prosperity and wealth, we have to be ready to protect it when needed. Although I can’t say I blame you, the P.T. is killer for newbies. You’ll get used to it though, look at Daedalus. When he first got here he could barely lift a dictionary.” She snorted.

“I’ll have you know I could lift two dictionaries thank you very much!” Daedalus sniffed, making a show of looking down his nose at us.

“You must have been so proud of yourself.” Their banter continued until we were called to our last class.

“This is probably the most pragmatic class out of all of them, it’s the only class that is actually independent, and probably has the most real life applications.” Atalanta told me as we walked into a room that must have been in one of the turrets of the palace. It was an octogonal room with each of the seven  stained windows depicting an animal. In the center window was an eagle, with a dragon on the right and a raven on the left. The leftmost window showcased an owl and a wolf on the window opposite. The other two windows showed a tiger on the left and a serpent on the right. In front of the eagle was a massive mahogany desk, surrounded by smaller tables to form a circle. In the center stood a tall, muscular man in his forties, with brown hair and fair skin. He addressed the class with a calm confidence.

“Good afternoon Hatchlings, as you know, magic is a greatly personalized art, apart from a few very basic functions. The form your magic takes is an indication of who you are at your core. A healer may be a giving soul, and a pyro-mage may have a passionate heart. It is my job to help unlock your potential and help you use it for good. Everyone has their own abilities, and so everyone works at their own pace. This is a reminder that if I see or hear of anyone harassing their comrades because of their magical talent or lack thereof, I will not hesitate to take disciplinary action.” He let his eyes make contact with everyone in the room, coming up to me last.

“Now that’s out there, I’ll let you start practicing,” he finished, until approaching me just as Snapdragon had.

“Hello, you must be Allie, I’m Blackthorn, the magic teacher for your year. Before we begin I want you to know that some of the most powerful people in Spade started with nothing, so I don’t want you to be nervous.” He reassured, and I relaxed, his reassuring demeanor refreshing after Snapdragon’s hard teaching methods. He led me to stand by the raven window as the others started warming up, and as I looked around I could see Atalanta turn a stone into silver in her hand as Daedalus started fiddling with a box while his lizard Yucca stood nearby with a screwdriver in his mouth. I turned to Blackthorn as he started to lecture me.

“Magic at its core is energy stored up in our bodies, and with proper teaching we can channel that energy to manipulate our environment. However, this can be tricky, because just as every person is unique, so are their capabilities.” To illustrate this, he held out his hand and in it, I could see a seed produce a tiny sprout inch toward the sky. As he continued, I could see it grow. “To help determine what your ability is, we will be going through a series of exercises to help stimulate your magic reservoir.” When he finished he smiled and showed me his hand again, and I could see it had grown into a tiny sage plant before it disappeared. He started by having me concentrate on various elements to see if I could cause them to change. First it was plants, then water and fire and gems. Soon an hour had passed, and still no progress. I started to frown, and when he caught sight of it he smiled reassuringly.

“Okay I’m going to have you try something before we finish,” he had me close my eyes and clear my mind.

“Allie, now I want you to focus on the feeling of your heartbeat. Each beat of your heart sends out magic through your body as well as blood. Now try and focus that flow to your hand.”

I stretched out my hand and did as he told. After a moment, I could feel energy gathering in my hand and I clenched my fist on instinct, causing it to stretch out and solidify. I opened my eyes and saw my hand was tightly gripping a small dagger. The hilt and blade were a dark, nearly black, color with the ringed look to the metal I recognized as Damascus steel. All was silent, and I looked around to see the rest of the class staring and Blackthorn spoke up.

“You have the rare ability to create. Our own queen has a similar ability with garments, and she’s put clothes on hundreds of backs in our borders and beyond. I daresay that your ability to bring weapons into being is well suited for a Spade,” he praised then shot me a warning glance. “I must warn you to use this tool wisely, lest it fall into the wrong hands.”

He had me practice summon the dagger and have it shatter back into oblivion until the bell rang.

As I made my way out the door, I concentrated and, after a few moments of focus, formed the dagger again. I turned it over in my hand to examine it. The blade was small but it felt dangerous in my hands. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy, like I could cause great destruction with a thought, and not liking that possibility at all. On my way to the Dancers I was accosted by Daedalus and Atalanta.

“Congrats on finding your talent Allie! Your magic is totally awesome.” Exclaimed Daedalus.

“The ability to create is really rare,” Atalanta continued, “There are only a handful who can do it, not to mention on your first try, so I would be prepared for some animosity because of it.”

I hadn’t thought about that, but after my life before Spade, I felt I was ready for it, especially now that I had friends at my side. Turns out the opposite happened, I kept noticing some of the other Hatchlings would keep their heads down whenever they neared me, and eye me warily whenever I passed them in the corridors of in the classrooms. I inquired about my friends’ talents when I walked with them from class to practice in an effort to keep my mind from it.

“So what are your talents?” I asked.

“I can change objects into various metals. Right now I’m working my way up to transforming bigger subjects, though,” Atalanta explained. “Daedalus can add magical properties to mechanical creations, so his is a bit different every time,” she finished, and with a wave goodbye, broke off to join the Flock. Daedalus left for practice a moment later.

I came back from dance practice slightly less exhausted than usual, which I took as a good sign as I approached Kennedia’s door, which just so happened to be right next to mine. I knocked and she answered a beat after, almost out of breath.

“Oh good you’re here! I had a hunch as to what you’re necklace might be, but I did some reading and now I’m certain. Anyway, come in I had someone bring up hot chocolate. That’s Magnolia by the window.”

She beckoned me inside. There was no window seat like there was in my room, but there were  armchairs by the fireplace, with hot chocolate on a tray in between them. By the window, I could see a barn owl gazing out the window. I sat across from her and took a sip of chocolate as she started her detailed explanation.

“The thing around your neck is an amulet. In order to create an amulet, the creator has to meticulously plan out the purpose of the amulet and even how they will go about making it before even thinking about creating one, which makes them expensive. There are a few that are well known in Ivaline, but most of the time they're a wild card. An amulet’s materials can hint at what its purpose is, for instance the Queen’s crown is an amulet depicting a silver eagle. Silver helps increase intuition, and an eagle is always associated with awareness, so her crown helps her be a wise ruler by increasing her natural perceptiveness. Now if we apply this principle to your necklace, we can deduce its most probable purpose.” She directed my attention to a book containing a list of metals and gemstones and their properties.

“The dragon’s body is crafted out of copper, which is generally used as protection against malicious forces. That alone can tell us that the amulet’s main job is to protect the wearer. But we also have to take into account that the claws and eyes are made out of ruby. Rubies are also a source of protection, but they are more specific. Rubies are said to help the wearer remain conscious and aware of their emotions.This can also be interpreted as aware of threats as well, which could explain the eyes. And then there are the claws, I think those are supposed to mean the amulet can not only detect threats but also eliminate some of them. You come from Pangaea right? So who would you know who had both the knowledge and the mean to give it to you?” Before I could answer her, my vision went red, and I could see Kyrie flying through the light rain.

She was being followed by a hawk. She tried to avoid it, but the hawk came swooping down and slashed through her wing and flew off. I paled as I watched her struggle to stay aloft. My vision dimmed to normal and I jumped up.

“Kyrie’s been injured,” I whispered, and I heard Magnolia speak up.

“Where is she?” Kennedia asked, but I didn't have time to be shocked I could understand her.

“She’s  just flown over the Forest of Trials,” I told her, setting my mug down so fast the tray rattled.

“I’ll go find her,” I opened the window for her. When she flew out, I turned to Kennedia.

“Could you to go to my room and open the window? I need to talk to someone.”  

I didn’t wait to see if she did as I told. I rushed up to Hawthorne’s nest where he was resting with Ash.

“I need your help! Kyrie’s been attacked, and I don’t think she can fly for much longer.”

He immediately flew up the the edge of the tower.

“Where is she?”

“To the south, a barn owl is already looking for her,” I finished, and rushed back down the stairs. I returned to my room and waited anxiously by the window until I saw Magnolia return, holding Kyrie by the carrier strap I had Daedalus make for her after League practice. He wanted to show off his talent by making anything I asked for. I requested something that would make it easier for Kyrie to carry letters, and by the Blades he delivered. The strap was made of blue tinted leather and reduced the weight and size of any package or letter exponentially.

“I’ll call for Galen,” Kennedia said, and left the room. I heard Belladonna whine, and I looked to Magnolia.

“Thank you for bringing her to me. Did you see an eagle on your way?” I inquired, concerned for Hawthorne. She turned to look at me, her neck twisting to an almost one eighty degrees.

“I did. He was engaged in combat with the hawk, by the time I had her in hand, he seemed to be wrapping things up. Unless I am mistaken, he should be bringing the offending creature here now,”

As she concluded, Hawthorne swooped through the window, threw down the unconscious culprit on the floor before coming to perch on my padded shoulder.

“She,” he gestured, “was apparently acting as a courier and found young Kyrie’s presence detrimental to the mission.”

I frowned.

“Why would Kyrie be a threat?” I pondered, and took the note from the hawk’s claws and opened it. Immediately after my hand came into contact with it, my vision tinged red, and I could feel the dragon coil tighter. It was covered in symbols and scratches I couldn’t understand. I crumpled the paper in my hand out of frustration. It was then Kennedia returned with Galen in tow. He went straight to Kyrie’s side.

“The cut didn’t damage anything that can’t be fixed, but it will take time. She will need to be in the infirmary for the rest of the week to make sure everything heals properly.” I didn’t like the idea of being without Kyrie for the week, but I didn’t want her injured either. So I reluctantly followed Galen to the infirmary to make sure she was comfortable, caging the hawk along the way. Once she was settled in, I walked Hawthorne back to his nest.

“It will be alright, little violet.” He said reassuringly. I didn’t answer, but smiled at the pet name as I returned to my room. Kennedia was still there.

“Do you know why Kyrie was attacked?” She asked and I shook my head.

“Apparently she was a threat to the hawk’s mission, but I can’t make any sense of the note she was carrying.” I showed her the paper from where I stowed it in my pocket. She scanned the page, then looked to me.

“I recognize this, it’s written in witch’s alphabet.” She claimed, and I drew in a breath.

“Could you decipher it?” I asked, and she nodded.

“I could take me a bit, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow and tell you what I find.” With that she left quietly, and I sat by the window petting Belladonna until exhaustion drew me to bed.

--

. . . I don’t know if I like where this is going.

I know it looks bad now but just wait. All protagonists change and this is still just the beginning of the story.

I hope you’re right.

--

Next

Previous

First

[talonsaga-trash]

Fanfic idea: The crazy thoughts that goes through wes's head on a day to day basis

An entire day? Man, Julie stretches those out so much! I didn’t realize how long they were, but here it is. Thanks for the prompt, anon!

Title: Used to Want a Job with Miscrosoft, Now Just Want to go to Bed

Word count: 4k

A/N: Takes place during Rouge, during the show of a day that Ember wakes up from being shot. I’m also going off of the assumption that Wes has insomnia, which I’m rather sure Julie has been hinting at.

Disclaimer: I realized I need to add these. Don’t own Talon, Julie owns Talon, I’m just a humble blogger. Some of the dialouge is taken directly from the book.

It didn’t come as a surprise when Wes opened his eyes to darkness.It wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last time he woke up before the sun had even approached rising. In all honesty, he lucked out by falling asleep at eleven. It couldn’t last, it never did, but it was a small disappointment. He pressed the button of light on his watch and discovered that it was 1:30. Two and a half hours of sleep, he probably wouldn’t get any more for a while. Perhaps the next night, or in two more. So he did what any reasonable human would do his his situation.

He closed his eyes and went into denial about being awake.

It was dawn by the time he heard Riley wake up in the room across from his, the slight groan of annoyance over being awake, similar to Wes’s. A few more seconds and Wes heard the unmistakable thump and curse that signalled Riley running into something. Idiot. Tired dragons were clumsy dragons in their human form, and endless entertainment for Wes. The only entertainment he got sometimes. “I can fly and breath fire and kill you with my left pinkie toe” “Yeah, well I can get up in the morning without tripping over the floor.” Who was the real winner in life?

Dragons. Definitely Dragons.

Riley seemingly recovered from running into whatever he ran into and walked down the hall, probably to check on the hatchling he was obviously smitten with and the soldier she was obviously smitten with.

It was not a fun situation for anyone, but if he ever got to fill out a job application he could at least add ‘patient third wheel’ onto list of achievements along with ‘fishes bullets out of idiots dragons in free time.’

“Wes? You awake?” Riley opened the door and whisered, spilling light into the room. It made Wes want to curl up and hide.

“No,” Instead he sat up and kicked the blankets away. Riley raised an eyebrow, smile tugging at his lips at his obvious denial. “So, Is Ember dead?”

“No.” Riley’s look changed to what could only be described as disapproving, since he had long gotten used to Wes’s word choice. Eight years ago when he asked a similar question he got a very solid smack on the head and a terrifying chew-out from an angry dragon that went by Leo at the time. “She actually might wake up today.”

“Oh, goody.”

“And we need more food unless you want to sacrifice an arm for the cause of hungry dragon.”

“Oh, goody.” Well, shit. “I’ll be off to bed, then. Wake me when she stops trying to eat me.”

Riley closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t sleep, idiot. You’re fooling no one.” Joke’s on you, I’m fooling myself. In your face, lizard.

“Humans need an average of seven to nine hours of sleep a night, so I have four and a half—”

“Get your ass up, Wes, before I drag you out by your ankle.”

“I’m charmed,” He rolled his eyes. “Give me a bit of privacy and I’ll get changed. Any requests for restocking the kitchen?”

“Orange juice. And Salami.”

What the hell is that combination? Sometimes he really questioned Riley’s sense of taste. And most dragons. Who thought Salami and orange juice went together?

Apparently Riley did.

The soldier was already up, sitting at the table. The three of them were sporting the newest fashion trend: grey complexion and circles under the eyes as black as Riley’s soul. St. George waved awkwardly as Wes came in, who made a beeline for the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of Mountain Dew.

“Any requests from you?” Wes finally sighed at him and downed half of the bottle. The soldier opened his mouth and closed it with a snap. “I’m not going to bite your head off for requesting food.” That’s Riley’s job.

“Is milk ever going—”

“Nope!” Riley yelled from the opposite room and Wes closed his eyes, the dragon’s voice searing a hole through his ear. Riley could devolve from fearless leader of the underground to small petty lizard in approximately five seconds. Impressive skill. Annoying skill. A skill that Wes possessed as well, sans the lizard part.

St. George seemed to think so, too, if the twitch in his eyes had anything to say about it. “What is with everyone’s aversion to milk?” He whispered to himself even though Wes could hear it.

“Dragons are lactose intolerant, so no milk.”

“Ember ate two ice cream cones in one sitting.”

“I pity the folks who were looking after her.” It was a rather common occurrence when they first started the underground. Hatchlings were hungry. Hatchlings wanted ice cream. Hatchlings asked for ice cream. Wes said no. Hatchlings got ice cream. Hatchlings threw up everywhere. Hatchlings got more ice cream.

For that reason Wes no longer bought ice cream.

“Wes. Food. Out.”

I feel so appreciated.

Shit shit shit shit shit. That word crossed his mind for very valid reasons more often than it was healthy. The current reason? The conspicuous tail that he had picked up. He was just trying to get salami, and he had to deal with St. George. 

Why did the universe hate him? It wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore.

It took a solid hour minutes to lose them and Wes let out a long sigh of relief and exhaustion before figuring out where the hell he was. 

Who in their right mind even let him drive? He never officially got his license and was fuctioning on two hours of sleep. Usually he could add spite as a source of energy, but turned out it didn’t work while driving, just putting up with bullshit or impossible situations. Such as digging a bullet out of Ember without a medical degree. Spite worked wonders. Just not for driving.

Wes pulled into their street after navigating the Vegas slums for another half hour and saw the car again. Fear flooded his bloodstream as it turned off to a different road, slowly. The part of him that was more tired than scared had the nerve to say ‘Well, shit.’ in the most annoyed voice possible.

“St. George! They’re here, I think they’re right behind me!” He slammed the door against the wall as Riley’s head jerked up. Hey, Ember’s awake! 

“What do you mean, they’re right behind you?” Riley stood as Wes locked the door. Are there multiple explanations that I’m missing? “St. George doesn’t know who you are, they’ve never seen you before. How would they know you’re even a target?”

“I don’t know mate, but someone was staring at me in the parking lot,” Probably because I bought fucking salami and orange juice like they belonged together. “And when I was driving back I noticed I’d picked up tail. That’s why it took me so bloody long to get here. I was trying to lose the bastards, but they could still be out there.”

Riley walked to the edge of the window and peered through the glass. Don’t do that. If you get shot I’m not pulling the slug out or hauling your corpse out of the house. Except he would do both. How dare that dragon make him do stuff like that?

“I don’t see anyone … maybe you lost them?”

“They’re out there,” The soldier murmured. “If this really is St. George, the surveyors Wes saw will be narrowing the houses down right now. The assault team is probably on its way. We don’t have a lot of time.” Aren’t you a small ray of optimism?

“Then we need to leave,” Riley kept up a calm facade impressively, but Wes could tell he wasn’t by the stiffness along his shoulders and the habitual twitch in his left foot. A barely noticeable tremor in his voice that Wes used to be unable to detect gave away exactly how panicked he was. Very much so. “Now. Wes, get everything together.”

Wes nodded and walked into his room, grabbing his backpack and gun. They didn’t really have any possessions, Riley’s duffel held his own weaponry and clothing. He threw the it at Riley when he came in.

“Ow.” Riley caught it, his voice shaking to the point where any person could identify it. He looked scared, a look he only had when he and Wes were alone. He needed to be strong for the hatchlings; Wes got a pass because he was a human, but Riley was the one that they looked up to. He was always calm and determined around them, probably why he let it drop when it was just Wes.

Wes gave a quick smile, the only thing he could give him in their current situation. They had gone through hell before, this was no different. “Chin up, Riley.”

Riley nodded. “You too.” He took a breath and returned the scared smile before turning back, putting on a calm facade, and getting everyone else assembled.

Step up from shitty motels. Step down from … anywhere else.

Off the main strip, a poor imitation of Caesar’s palace, with all of the nudity and none of the things he assumed were good about Caesar’s palace. He had never been in it, but he assumed that it didn’t smell like five different air fresheners, and probably had better sheets.

God, he was tired. He wanted to sleep for a twelve hours. Either his brain, body, or the universe laughed at that wish, and he laughed at the stupidity of it. 

If anything could describe his ability to sleep, he once slept for eight hours and Riley thought he had fallen into a coma. Cue tired twenty-one-year-old being shaken from what was his longest sleep since he was seventeen and he actually fell into a coma. Jokes on Riley, because he got kicked in the face.

I need fuel. Wes decided and closed his laptop, grabbing his phone. 

Perks of being a hacker: Everything was computerized, including most vending machines. So that meant free food with relative ease.  

Drawbacks of being a hacker: Getting kidnapped by Talon.

He nearly ran into Riley on the way back to his room, Riley looking grim. That could either be because of the St. George debacle or … “Griffin finally get back to you?” Riley nodded. Bingo.

“Heading down to meet him right now. Where are the others?” Riley asked. How should I know?

Of course he did. It was his job. “In their rooms, last I saw them. One sulking, one doing … bugger all. Hope the blasted hatchling doesn’t wander off. She looked quite put out when you told her not to leave the floor.”

Riley closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face for a second and Wes wondered, not for the first time, why they were the ones who had to act like adults. The underground needed better adults. Adults who were better at adulting, because they absolutely sucked at it. Riley was a juvenile. He wasn’t an adult.

“Keep an eye on them,” Riley said. “Make sure Ember stays put, but watch the soldier, too.” 

Seriously, why did they have to be the adults in this equation? 

“He might’ve broken from the Order, but he’s still St. Geroge, and that will never change.” Really? Never would’ve guessed. “If he moves or leaves the room, I want to know about it.” Brilliant.

“Want me to stick a bug in his lamp when he’s asleep?” And probably get shot in the process, but then at least I wouldn’t have any more responsibilities. 

“No.” Foiled again. “Doubt he’s in contact with the Order. They’re hunting him now, same as us. But if he goes off alone, or gets within twenty feet of Ember, let me know. If everything is too quiet, let me know. Hell, if …” Oh god, the list never ends.

Wes rubbed his face. “Fabulous. Twelve years of being the best hacker in this circus, and now I’m a bloody babysitter.” Riley cracked a smile and Wes glowered at him. Wes swallowed and lowered his voice. “Where are the guns, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Confession: Wes despised guns, he hated them being aimed at him, he hated aiming them at other people. He hated the idea of killing, even though he had done so before. And he was a terrible shot. Riley gave up trying to teach him properly when he was twenty. He only kept one at his bed for his friend’s sake and sanity, because he didn’t like the idea of the squishy human being defenseless while he slept. Wes had never used it.

But still, genocidal seventeen-year-old called for desperate measures.

“In my room, of course. You think I’m going to let St. George anywhere near them?” Riley said and stepped away from Wes. “I’m off. Call me if the room explodes.”

“Y know, that’s be funny if I wasn’t terrified it could actually happen.”

Riley smirked and ruffled Wes’s hair before nearly sprinting to the elevator.

Jerk.

Wes trudged back to his room, opened his laptop, and started hacking into the security. Whoever directed Ocean’s Eleven didn’t know shit about casino security, or at least the average casino’s. The one’s on the strip were probably harder to break into, but he doubted they could beat anything that the St. Geroge servers threw at him, and he was nineteen back then. Getting into the cameras was child’s play, and after six minutes he found Riley and Griffin.

Griffin was a tall asshole. Enough said about him. Riley was obviously uncomfortable, holding his drink in a vice grip and not drinking any. Good. Wes still remembered the last time he let Riley anywhere around heavy alcohol, and it had ended up with Riley flopping on top of Wes and blabbering about something in French. Then falling asleep and kicking Wes in the stomach.

Not a good night.

There didn’t seem to be any threats, but he flicked back to the cameras on their floor anyways. All clear. He flipped back to Riley and Griffin, making sure not to let them out of his sight. Wes trusted Griffin about as far as he could throw him, and he was a skinny hacker who failed gym in seventh, eighth, and freshman year.

Wes, you got a C. That’s not failing. You just got a thirty-five percent on all of your strength tests.

Close enough.

There was a knock on the door and Wes straightened, looking back at the security camera. Riley was still there, uncomfortable as ever, looking ready to drink poison. Please be a lost drunk person, please be a lost drunk person, please—

Damn.

It wasn’t.

“Oh it’s you.” Wes leaned out the door slightly to look to the elevator. Riley could usually deal with the hatchlings, not Wes. He couldn’t even deal with humans. The only organic like form he could deal with on a regular basis were dogs.

He turned back to Ember. “What do you want?”

Case in point.

“Hey, Wes.” She tried for a smile and settled on a grimace. Me too. “I have a question.” I want to go to bed. “Can I come in? I… don’t want to talk out in the open.”

“Bloody hell,” Wes muttered and opened the door wider. She’s turned paranoid already. Riley will be proud. Ember looked around the room, eyes landing on the computer for a moment and on his laptop bag a second later. Okay, sure, invade my privacy. I’m good, just standing here. He shut the door. 

“Well?” He asked. Ember looked shocked about the hostility that his voice was coated in, and Wes restarted. “Whatever this is, can you make it quick? I really don’t have time—” Or desire “—to faff around with hatchlings right now.”

Ember raised her eyebrows slightly. “Faff around?”

Fuck you. “What’s the bloody emergency?”

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt for a moment before folding her hands behind her back. “I want to get a message to my brother.”

Wes had fallen into a coma when he was seventeen due to untreated scarlet fever. He slept for fifty-two hours straight and woke up barely able to speak, delirious, and still exhausted. That seemed like a pretty nice option. Comas were good.

“Your brother.” Wes said. Ember nodded. “I’m sorry… you mean the bloke who sold us out to Talon? Are— are you off your rocker, you want to let Talon know exactly where we are?”

Ember twitched, but held her ground. Wes was so done dealing with dragons. There had to be a job that involved petting dogs all day. He would find that job, and he would excel at it.

“He didn’t sell us out.” Really? That’s what it looked like from where I was crouching in a cave, hoping Riley wasn’t dead. “Talon lied to him, he didn’t know what would happen when he told Lilith where we were. He didn’t know she would try to kill us! I know Dante, I’ve known him all my life, he wouldn’t willingly do anything that would put me in danger. Talon used, him, just like they used all of us.”

Comas were very nice. Perhaps he could get scarlet fever again.

“Be that as it may, he’s still part of the organization. Or have you forgotten they’re the ones sending Vipers after us? Even if your brother is being manipulated, it doesn’t change anything; Talon will still use him to get to us. So, sorry, can’t help you there. I like our status as it is— alive and breathing.”

Ember pursed her lips, eyes filling with tears. Oh no. He could deal with angry hatchlings, he could not deal with sad hatchlings. Mission Abort, mayday mayday Riley help please.

“Please,” She all but whispered. “Wes, please, he’s my brother. I don’t know what’s happened to him, if he’s okay, if Talon is making him do something awful. I won’t tell him where we are, or give him any information that can be traced back to us. I just need to know if he’s alright.”

Wes closed his eyes for a moment, wishing for a simpler time, at one o’clock, when he was sleeping. He opened them again and looked Ember in the eyes, trying not to be too harsh. “Even if I wanted to do this— which I don’t, let’s make that very clear— I’m not going to risk it without Riley’s approval. You really haven’t seen the blighter lose his temper yet, and as I am not fireproof, I’m not going to sneak around behind his back. You’ll have to take the request up with him.”

Ember set her jaw and backed towards the door. “Fine, then I’ll find him and ask him myself.” Yay! Please leave!

“Ask me what?” Bloody hell! Wes turned towards the door, where Riley was standing. Is my privacy non-existent? Is that how it is? Should I just remove the bloody door?

Riley looked at Ember and narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in here?”

“Bloody hatchling wanted me to send a message to her brother,” Wes walked back to the computer and sat down, not before seeing Riley raise his eyebrows incredulously and Ember glare at him. He minimized the security feed and started his routine checking of their safe houses. Nettle and Remy had been relocated to southern Texas, along the Mexican border, he checked up on theirs first.

“I told her that before she brought the whole of Talon and St. George down on our heads, she’d have to take it up with you.” With that he took out his earbuds, plugged them into the computer, and tried to drown out their conversation with Skyrim.

As far as arguments with hatchlings went, nothing broke, neither he nor Riley were slapped or punched across the face, and no one threw a pizza at the wall, so he supposed it went alright. Of course, when he was nineteen and the underground was young, he didn’t think he’d have to worry about flying pizzas. Nettle had quite the character.

Mr. Evans had sent him a message. Oh, joy. Atlas had accidentally come across a family out camping in his dragon form, and they needed to be relocated ASAP before St. George or Talon came down on them. Damn. Wes opened his list of temporary safe houses and found the nearest one that would be out of the radius St. Geroge and Talon usually checked. Morehead, Kentucky. He sent the directions and promised to set up a more permanent fix as soon as he could. He took out an earbud to tell Riley that they needed to set up another safer safe house, to see Riley’s face about two inches away from Ember.

I do not need this in my life. Wes took his laptop and moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. He turned his music up and tried to ignore the very heated conversation with sexual undertones going in front of him. Okay, Atlas, where can we put you where you won’t scare hippies? Canadian border? It might be too cold to camp there. Wait, humans are insane, of course they would. No where is safe from the campers. Perhaps if he started whistling Skyrim they would remember that they had an audience.

It worked, Riley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and tried to act normal until Ember left. He then swatted Wes’s head, hard.

“What was that for?” Wes recoiled as Riley found his hair and clenched his hand around it, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Wes annoyed at his very touchy dragon friend. ‘I’m not the touchy-feely type’ he said. ‘Dragons don’t depend of physical contact like humans do’ he said. He was wrong. He was very wrong.

“For being an ass.” Riley replied and Wes snorted. He turned back to his laptop, ignoring the hand in his hair as easily as he did all of the other times Riley messed with it. More than either of them would ever admit, for sure. Or notice. “So, is there anything you need me for?”

“Yes, actually.” Wes opened up the message. “We need to relocate Atlas. He’s in our temporary safe house in Kentucky, don’t worry, some campers spotted him so he had to scram, we need to set a permanent one up, and quick. Our temp houses suck.”

“You’re not wrong,” Riley sat down next to him. Ow, ow, you’re pulling my hair you bloody lizard! Riley seemed to notice and pulled his hand away. Christ!  “Sorry.”

“It’s really not that hard to extract one’s hand from straight, reasonably short hair, without ripping it out, Riley,” Wes elbowed his ribs softly.

“You’ve slain me,” Riley looked down at his ribs and Wes chuckled before turning back to the computer. “Okay, we need to focus.”

They spent a better part of the night finding a new safehouse. Or rather, re-securing an abandoned safe house. It was in Pennsylvania, high in the mountains, surrounded by pine trees. They hadn’t used it in three years ever since Mrs. Mcsteen died from idiocy, a.k.a, walking outside in the middle of a cloud and falling off a cliff. Usually the humans weren’t stupid, but they couldn’t avoid all of them.

The one in Arizona would be so much easier to use … Wes finished his Mountain Dew and started taking the land surrounding it and putting it in Mr. Evans’s name. The good thing was that it was the state’s, not some poor citizens, so his conscious was clear. The bad thing was that he was in Nevada and trying to steal from the Pennsylvania. Not easy.

It was dawn before he could finally send the coordinates and get Altas on his way. Riley sighed and rested his head on Wes’s shoulder.

Me too, mate. Wes closed his laptop and felt his back cramp the moment he moved.

“Chin up.” He murmured.

“You too.”

[radioleary-blog]

Long Names and Outsourcing Superheroes

It’s not easy writing political comedy.

One factor is the impermanence of a political joke. Even a great political joke has an expiration date, and political narratives change fast these days. Your average political joke has a shorter shelf-life than a pint of half & half that you left in the car. “Honey...when did I write this joke about Trump getting golden showers from Russian prostitutes? Is it still any good or should I throw it away?”

“How does it smell?” she replies from the living room.

“Whew! Pretty funky...I think it’s turned. Dammit! That was a good one.”

“So write a new one,” she says dully, without looking away from whatever TV program has unattractive British servants enduring wretched lives of 19th century drudgery. Which accounts for about half of all PBS programs. Or should I say “programmes.” They’re so depressing. They ought to call it “Downer Abbey.” Or “Upstairs, Downstairs, Blank Stares.” Seriously, man, how much does the BBC pine for the days when the lower classes knew their place? Is that really an era to romanticize, even if they do call it The Romantic era? And who the hell could enjoy watching shows about the help being treated badly? As for me, if I watch even ten minutes of a show with berated butlers and yelled-at scullery maids, I start to get angry. Every time I see some mutton-chopped, inbred Lord of the Manor lining up his staff to lecture and threaten them for poorly-polished silver, or for becoming ‘too familiar’, or for having any normal human desires whatsoever, I have the normal human desire to make him ‘too familiar’ with my fist in his mutton-chop face. Just once, I’d like to see one of the servants he’s giving a good “dressing-down” to turn around and give this privileged twit a good old working-class “beating-down.” I’d like to see the First Footman, or the Second Footman, or some Footman put that foot right up his aristocratic ass.

I was trying to think up some funny-sounding British aristocratic names as examples of noble pomposity, but it turns out they have this new thing called “the google,” so I just looked up some real names instead. These are just a few of the actual descendants of William the Conqueror, who, being British, conquered everything but brushing and flossing:

Flora Paulyna Hetty Barbara Abney-Hastings. That sounds like somebody who never had to fill out their name on a lot of forms. Good luck fitting that on a job application. But of course, nobody with a name that long and dreadfully upper-class ever had to look for work. The longer your name, the easier your life. Hey, I just realized that. I might actually be onto something. Who do you think works harder - a person named Prince Stuart Johann Knud Bernhard Felix Maria René Joseph de Bourbon-Parma (real name), or a guy named Stu Parma? If you’re having trouble figuring that one out, the title Prince is a big clue. The only Prince who ever broke a sweat died last year in Minnesota, and judging by his opioid addiction, it was probably a cold sweat. Stu Parma sounds like an ex-Checker Cab driver from Queens, whereas Prince longname there sounds like an exchequer for the Queen. Big difference between those jobs, and probably all because of the length of their names. Great, just what men need, one more length to feel inadequate about. The only people who work harder than guys named Stu and Kip and Sam are guys with even shorter names like Bo and Al and Ed.

Same thing probably holds true for women, I bet Vikki works a longer shift for less pay than Victoria does. And I bet Kat does things for money that Katerina never would. I’m not thinking sex-worker, necessarily, but if she did it would be all her idea. No, I was picturing Kat doing something more along the lines of a cage-match fighter, or rodeo girl, or tattoo artist. She could set up her own new-school tattoo shop and call it “KATTOOS.” And she’s more likely to be a fun person to party with, too. Kat is a bad-ass who keeps it real, and Katerina will not go down on you even on your anniversary. The longer the name, the less fun and the more stuck up you are. Here’s another real name, and I bet she isn’t bringing any beer or weed to your party: Countess Antonia Charlotte Jeanette Marie af Holstein-Ledreborg. Wow, really? Can we just call you c*ntess for short?

And with the titles and peerage to boot, these names really start to get re-goddam-diculous. Check this guy out, this is a real title: His Royal Highness the Prince Charles Philip Arthur George, Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, Prince and Great Steward of Scotland, Royal Knight Companion of the most noble order of the Garter, Royal Knight Companion of the most ancient and most noble order of the Thistle, Knight Grand Cross of the most honourable order of the Bath, member of the order of Merit, Knight of the order of Australia, companion of the Queen’s service order, member of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Councillors, Aide de Camp to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. WTF? That’s not a title, that’s the whole book! And the sequel! Keep in mind this is just a really fancy way of saying this guy is banging the Queen. This title is so long that when you start saying it you have 13 colonies in the Americas, and when you’re done saying it Cornwallis is surrendering at Yorktown.

But that’s the trouble with those british TV servants, they never fought back against the system like we did here in the colonies. That’s why their rigid class-structure hierarchy remained in place for so long, and they’re still sentimental for it in these godawful butler dramas. They never really had a lot of rebels in England, not for very long anyway, they either came here and started killing Indians, or they got arrested and shipped off to Australia to get eaten by sharks. Even today, British culture doesn’t celebrate the rebel like we do in America. The British never had a ‘Cool Hand Luke,’ more like ‘Keep Calm and Carry On Luke.’ The Brad Pitt ‘Fight Club’ character Tyler Durden sounds like it could be a proper English name, but if there was a ‘Fight Club’ in England, the first rule of Fight Club would be No Fighting.

And hey, did you ever hear Brad Pitt try to do a british accent? Yikes. He has all the range of a veal calf. He sounded worse than Bob Dylan trying to speak Chinese. But strangely, British actors have no problem at all doing American accents. Why is that? In fact, they have taken over a lot of our favorite tv and movie characters. On ‘The Walking Dead’, Rick Grimes, Maggie, Morgan, the Governor, and Jesus are all British. There are so many Brits on the show they should rename it ‘The Ambulatory Deceased’.

And the list includes some of our most beloved Superheroes. Henry Cavill, Christian Bale, Andrew Garfield are English, that’s Superman, Batman and Spider-Man. And even the new Spider-Man, Tom Holland is British. Both Jeremy Irons and Michael Caine were Alfred, which begs the question ‘What’s it all about, Alfred?’ (Ah, you’re too young to get that reference). Two actors have played Professor Xavier and they are both English, so are both actors who played Magneto. Fellow X-Men The Beast, Nightcrawler and Jean Grey, and Avengers Quicksilver and The Vision are British. So are the actors who played Doctor Strange, Daredevil, Commissioner Gordon, The Thing, Mister Fantastic, Odin, Ozymandias as well as super-villains Dr. Octopus, Sinestro, Killer Croc, Col. Stryker, Juggernaut, Toad, Azazel, The Lizard, and Loki. All English. Add to that Ryan Reynold’s Green Lantern is Canadian, while Eric Bana’s Hulk, Chris Hemsworth’s Thor and Hugh Jackman’s The Wolverine are Australian. An Australian Hulk? I understand they let Mel Gibson audition to play Hulk. But the Hulk is a rampaging rage monster who smashes everything in sight, and they felt Mel Gibson was just too angry for the role. Plus the Hulk isn’t anti-Semitic. I’m beginning to wonder if we have any American superheroes left, except for the Captain with America right in his name. If Donald Trump is going to bring back jobs to America, can he please start with our superheroes?

But I digress. I don’t remember what my point was, but I’m pretty sure I had one. Oh yeah, British servant shows. Why do women love these Victorian period pieces so much? They’re usually intelligent and independent women, too, yet these butler-laden bodice rippers get them steamier than an Icelandic orgy.

No, wait, I remember my point now: it’s not easy writing political comedy. Reason two, you get distracted. As I just demonstrated with the last ten paragraphs. I was saying the life of a political joke is short, and getting shorter. There was a time before the 24-hour news cycle when a political scandal stuck around for a long time. Watergate hung around for years and years, like an Irish houseguest. Comics in the 1970’s could take months to work out Watergate bits, and if they were solid, you could tell those jokes for half a decade. Fashions and music trends would change before your Watergate jokes got old. The first time you tell your Watergate joke on stage, you’re wearing bell-bottom jeans and a tie-dye T-shirt, and years later you’re telling it on stage wearing a white Disco suit. And it’s the same old joke about E. Howard Hunt, or H.R. Haldeman, or R.L. Stine, or George R.R. Martin, or whoever the hell was involved in the break-in. And actually, it kind of was a Game of Thrones, except instead of a dragon Queen who could walk through fire, you had G. Gordon Liddy who liked to hold a torch to his hand to show how tough he was. If you don’t know who he is, that’s okay, just picture Negan, but high on cocaine and patriotism.

People had better things to do in the 1970’s than obsess on scandals, and the only way to follow it was in newspapers and on the evening news. Which, if you were not home while the evening news was on, tough luck, there was no recording it. And 1970’s people were definitely out, and doing much cooler things than watching the evening news. Like driving around in a Pontiac Firebird and smoking a joint, or going to a Pink Floyd concert and smoking a joint, or throwing a key-party orgy and smoking a joint, or just smoking a joint and smoking a joint. You could do a lot of fun things in the 1970’s, as long as you had a joint. Those were the rules. Even if you got pulled over by the police, you better have a joint on you, the cops will ask you, “Licence..registration...proof of joint…”

So political scandals unfolded at a leisurely pace. Which is not to say people were not involved in politics, maybe it was the draft, or maybe it was the joint, but they were very involved. They were the only generation that ended an unpopular war through protest, and threw a corrupt President out of office. I think it was the weed, because after that, the police stopped making sure you had a joint.

But things are different in the Trump era. If you can call a presidency that only lasts until he quits this summer an “era”. More like the Trump “error”. Trump has a new scandal every day, every fourteen hours to be precise, so by the time you write a good joke, it’s over. It’s old news, and on to the next scandal. Tiny hands, Meryl Streep, grab ‘em by the pussy, Betsy DeVos, Michael Flynn, and now wiretap, the scandals are coming too fast. - That’s what she said! The jokes are obsolete by the time the pen leaves the paper, because by the time you read this, the whole wiretap scandal will be over and he’ll be on to the next inexcusable act. And that will only be like, two days from now.

I realize now that when I write about politics, I’m like one of those monks who make paintings out of different colored grains of sand. It takes them forever to do it, and the minute they’re done, they erase it. And they move on to the next one.

And I’ve never had more fun.

[xtyrantinax]

Friendly Dragons and Where to Find Them | Chapter 1.

Universe: Underfell

Characters: Papyrus, Sans. 

Warnings: None Applicable. 

Overview: First chapter of the Friendly Dragons and Where to Find Them fic. 

A/N: Please note there is a prologue to read first!

Previous | Next

Read on AO3: HERE

The rest of the day progressed slowly as usual. Despite the unusual encounter that morning, Papyrus found himself quickly growing bored. The snow relented its downpour later on in the day, and light was finally able to break through the trees, providing a small amount of warmth. Despite this, the small skeleton’s mood remained frigid.

There was little to spark interest other than the occasional few birds that would flutter through the treetops, filling the air for a brief moment with the soft sound of song before continuing on their way, leaving the woods once more eerily silent.

Eventually, after what felt like years in the mind of the young child, it was late afternoon. The small birds that had provided him with fleeting moments of curiosity had finally settled themselves in the trees above, readying themselves to roost for the evening, and the wind had begun to strengthen, telling of the cold night to come. It was then that Papyrus heard a set of footfalls in the snow.

Unlike that morning, the sound of another monster relieved the skeleton; he knew the only person that would enter the forest in the hours just before dark was his brother. He quickly clambered to his feet, dusting the snow off his legs and clothes before eagerly trotting off through the forest to where he knew Sans would meet him.

Papyrus knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would be Sans – after all – who else would be dumb enough to walk into the forest? It was the middle of winter, and snow storms were common. No one would want to be trapped in the vast maze of trees that comprised the Snowdin forests when a snow storm hit.

After a few moments of weaving about various trees, he finally caught sight of his older brother’s black jacket. Many a time Sans had offered to give up the jacket to keep Papyrus just that little bit warmer, but he had been insistent that Sans keep it, he couldn’t have his older brother getting cold after all.

“Sans!” he called, happily bounding over to the monster in question, practically tackling him in an embrace.

Sans made a soft ‘oomph’ sound and jerked forward slightly due to the rather aggressively loving hug, but quickly regained his composure, grinning down at the younger skeleton. “Heya bro,” he sighed, gently coiling his arms around Papyrus, “What’ve you been up to today?” he asked as they broke the tender grip on each other.

The question made Papyrus all the more excited, “I met another monster in the woods today,” he declared proudly. However, Sans was obviously less excited by this new development, his expression darkening significantly.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you-” Sans’ voice had become slightly panicked as it always did when he was concerned. There had been previous encounters with other monsters who had been less than kind, and Papyrus knew how guilty it made Sans that he always had to leave him alone to fend for himself on most days.

Papyrus cut Sans off before he could begin fretting too much, “I’m fine,” he grumbled, fixating the taller skeleton with an unimpressed glare.

The elder brother grit his sharpened teeth and gave a lengthy sigh, shaking his head, “Papyrus, how many times have I told you not to talk with other monsters when you’re by yourself?” They both knew it had been countless times – it was just difficult for the young monster to stand being on his lonesome for so long – he was bound to start craving interaction sooner or later.

Papyrus grumbled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly, he always hated it when Sans scolded him. “I don’t even think it was a monster,” he mumbled.

“What do you mean you don’t think it was a monster?” Sans inquired, obviously needing a little more enlightenment on the matter. There were only two types of creatures in the underground; monsters and animals. The creature Papyrus had seen seemed to fit into neither category – it had the body and features of a large beast, yet the obvious intelligence of a monster. Papyrus was determined to find out what it was.

“It looked like a lizard, a really, really big one- oh and it had these massive wings-” He threw out wide his arms as though trying to replicate the creature’s appearance and size, “And-and it was really warm,” he quickly added, the arms that were once outstretched moving to curl around himself.

Sans frowned in further confusion, “Are you sure you weren’t dreamin’, Pap?” he asked with a soft chuckle, “There aren’t usually any lizards out here- too cold for ‘em for starters.”

“No! I wasn’t dreaming, it was real!” he insisted, “It smelt all smoky and its scales were really hard, it was like armour; Are there any monsters like that?” Papyrus inquired hopefully. He knew that Sans had travelled a lot, everywhere from the city in New Home, to the Core in Hotland, and the dark caverns of Waterfall – if anyone knew what this thing was, surely Sans did.

Sans gave a soft laugh at his enthusiasm, “You sure it wasn’t a dragon?” he smirked, watching as the younger’s expression lit up in awe.

“What’s a dragon?” he asked excitedly bounding up and down.

“Well, I once read a book on them. A dragon is a huge reptile, and there are lots of different types; some have two wings and four legs, some have only two legs, and some have none at all, it really depends on which one you want to know about.” Sans seemed to be rather enjoying himself, watching Papyrus’ awed expression only grow.

Papyrus was quick to respond, “The first one! The dragon had four legs!” he eagerly stated, unable to hold back from giggling excitedly.

“Oh, a European dragon then?” The older monster asked, “Well, they say most of those dragons could breathe fire-” that elicited an impressed gasp from the younger. Sans continued, “Yeah, and they say that they were almost as powerful as humans – their souls are mostly magic, but they have physical bodies – that makes them a lot stronger than monsters.”

If Papyrus had been sat on a seat, he would have fallen off the edge by then. It must have been a dragon, it was without a shadow of a doubt in his mind. A creature that could breathe fire? That sounded like the stuff of myth and legend but would explain why it had simply radiated with heat.

“Yep- eventually, for some unknown reason, the humans just turned on the dragons, like they did with us monsters, and one day there were just no dragons left.”

Papyrus frowned. No dragons left? Surely that was a mistake; he was certain the creature that he had witnessed was a dragon, no other monster could be that large, surely, and the beast had met Sans’ description to the letter. Sure, he had never seen this information first hand, but he had all faith in Sans’ depiction of them. Perhaps some dragons had escaped into the Underground like the monsters had – there were plenty of unexplored cave systems and caverns – who knew what might be lurking in their depths?

“Yes. It must have been a dragon,” he declared, his voice steadfast in its tone of finality.

He saw Sans’ signature grin falter for the briefest or moments, but he managed to promptly recover, all be it with a slight look of apprehension on his face, “I’m pretty sure if there was a dragon here we would have seen it before, or at least someone would have.”

A strong gust of wind howled through the trees, sending a spray of fresh snow in the direction of the skeleton monsters, once more making promise to a harsh and bitter evening ahead. It served well to snap them both from the idle conversation. Sans brushed the rouge ice particles from his coat before offering a bony hand to the younger monster, “C’mon let’s get out of here,” he called, seeming to finally take into account how much darkness has crept in during the few short minutes they had been talking.

Papyrus reached out and eagerly grasped his brother's hand before the two of them began trudging through the deep snow. Being so short made it hard to navigate the snow at the best of times, let along just after fresh snow, so it was always useful to have a good hand to hold and help him through some of the deeper sections. Due to the fact there was so little foot traffic in the centre of the forest it made the snow far less compacted and easier to sink into, in turn making it far more difficult to walk through, especially at a swift pace.

The cavern had grown well and truly dark before they reached what might only just pass for shelter, much less a home. It was a shallow cave that only just managed to protect them from direct wind and the occasional snow. Unpleasant as it was to sleep in a cold cave, it left them unbothered by other monsters that would otherwise do them harm, and they had managed to make it as ‘homely’ as possible given their current situation.

Living on the streets of a city would leave them at the mercy of other monsters – The humidity of Waterfall caused food to expire far faster than anywhere else – and the Hotlands held nothing but bad memories for the older skeleton. The two were barely bothered by the extreme frigid environment of Snowdin, and the forest gave them unlimited places to flee from less than kind monsters; it was by far the best place to be.

The temperature of the forest had dropped dramatically, and Papyrus’ shoes had been soaked through, along with numerous parts of his clothing. In short, the small monster was cold, wet, hungry, and exhausted. The moment the brothers were out of the snow Papyrus trotted over to the makeshift bed the two shared. The mattress was old and there were several springs out of place, but it was far kinder than the rocky floor on their sensitive bones.

Papyrus quickly stripped off his sodden clothing, quickly replacing them with a dry pair. Once done, he perched himself on the end of the bed, pulling a large tattered blanket around himself and happily snuggling into it.

Soon enough, Sans joined Papyrus in sitting on the old mattress. They both sat in silence for a while, each enjoying the other’s company until the sound of a ravenous non-existent stomach made its presence known. Papyrus hadn’t eaten anything substantial since the evening before and was starved.

Seeming to take note of it, Sans reached inside his hoodie, retrieving a small paper bag. He pulled open the crumpled-up bag and produced a practically untouched burger. Papyrus wondered why in the Underground someone would discard a perfectly good burger, sure, he wasn’t exactly fond of the nasty greasy food – presumably sourced from a trash can behind the bar in Snowdin town – yet he couldn’t see anything actually wrong with it. He had learnt that some monsters did, in fact, throw out any food that didn’t quite meet their standards, which was rather odd, to say the least. It was perfectly good food, so why get rid of it?

Papyrus, however, was not complaining. Although his dinner had probably spent a short while in a bin, it was still safely inside a takeaway bag of sorts, and still smelt fresh.

Sans pulled out a smaller paper bag filled with chips and began happily chewing away at them, obviously taking them as his share of the meal. Papyrus was always worried that Sans generally ate less than himself, but knew better to argue – it would do no good against the stubborn skeleton.

They both swiftly polished off their meals. Papyrus still felt a lingering hunger, his stomach was still eager for more, but alas that was all that had been on offer. He crawled across the bed, repositioning himself in the correct position for sleep, curling deeper into his blanket with a semi-content sigh. It wasn’t long before Sans too led down, moving about until he was led on his side, directly facing Papyrus.

They once more remained in silence, Sans seemingly slowly drifting off to sleep. Papyrus moved closer to Sans, wrapping his short arms around the bigger monster and nuzzling into his ribcage. A few moments later he felt Sans wrap his own arms around him, the older skeleton resting his head on top of the younger’s. Papyrus used a hand to awkwardly toss half of the blanket over Sans before once more settling himself into the other’s embrace.

Moments later he could feel himself drifting off, and it wasn’t long before he had fallen into a peaceful rest, having pleasant dreams of winged lizards.

[ophiniaonistecua]

Otherversely drabble

((I wrote something for and RP group, but it’s pretty beefy, so I figured I could repost it here too, if people wanna read it))

Searching through the many tomes his parents and ancestors collected, Xydiat found a tome of most curious nature. "The nature of Warlocks and the origin of Pact magic", is its name. The tome itself was dusty, ancient, and its foreword spoke highly of 'arcane paladins' and 'dragonbound loyalty'. He chuckled at how the book was clearly written during the height of Dragonkind's magical potency, or by someone who really wanted to butter up a scaled ruler. At first, his eyes but lazily analysed the pages. The young lord was, if anything, curious and bored and simply seeking some stimulation. But upon seeing the... ah. Something caught his eyes. They sprung to life, his black cloak of shadow flickering out of existence. "Most smallfolk make for wonderful vassals. The power a pact grants is only measured in the control it wields. Best suited as smallfolk with no innate power. As those with magical attunement can, given the right tools and knowledge, cut the ties and steal the power for themselves. The lifebound tie is not to be considered lightly, as the dragon submits his power as a tool and chain. To maintain multiple pacts requires great magical power and control."

He read the book throughout the night. By morning, his mind had been set in stone. Though he had retreated from society at large in his castle and town in the Shadowfens, this was tempting. What would he do with a little minion, he wondered. Maybe send them on little adventures, out and about? His mind swirled many ideas, his scribe wrote down many titles and suggestions. It was late at night when his eyes saw the landscape far away and he stopped citing. The hills, the trees, the ocean shores. No, this wasn't for him, no adventurers were needed. He didn't care about war or politics either. All boring, and endangering his life. He wanted entertainment... but jesters are easy to come by. "A warlock is bound, by life, to its patron. This connection is a rope and chain, by which a warlock can be summoned at will." Another thought. No, he didn't need an errand boy. Or a prostitute on demand. "Usually, magical scars burden the warlock, as the power of a mighty dragon overwhelms the smallfolk." "A grave warning to all: Do not bind pacts with dragons. A dragon's strength can easily break and consume pacts, similar to an able smallfolk. Do not see it as a marital commitment, for one will ever rule the other." 'Bleh.' He thought. 'This book is useless.' He closed it and offered the large grimoire to his assistant. "Bring this to the library. And bring me something else. News of other dragons and their stupid ideas." He stopped. Hand hovering in the air, he swiped the book and flicked through the pages. "Applications, applications... spies. I'd love a spy. But spies die. I'd rather not... of course." A filthy grin curled up the dragon's black lips, the shining silver glittering as he dragged his slimy tongue across. "I'd love a storyteller. A cute little thing, begging for its life with grand stories. And with this power.. yes... they couldn't even run."

It had been weeks. None of the smallfolk met his requirements: Meek, weakwilled, adventurous and exciting and most importantly, magically dead. It frustrated him, though over time, the idea sunk away, and his servants could breathe fresh, calm air once more. That was, until the guards wheeled in a lizard from the fen. "Liege. I present to you a dying lass." The guard saluted and the dragon huffed. "What is it to me, soldier? Take this bleeding mess away. It is not my problem nature feeds on serfs." He said, shooing with his hand, turned to a small book about the joy of architecture. "She's not a local, sire. More importantly..." The soldier produced a golden coin. Wait, a gold... she didn't dress like someone who would hold a coin of gold. A story, how exciting! "We believe she may be involved in something. Turning her over can earn us favour and keep the borders quiet. A recommendation from the lieutenant." "Nevermind that. She's perfect." He ordered the guard to empty her possessions onto the ground. Certainly no small collection. Books, writing tools, magical scrolls, a mana crystal, or something like it. Yet, she herself was entirely magically dead. "She's dying, liege. We must act..." "Away, soldier. Bring my marking tools." They didn't hesitate, and the lord was left with the lizard. He peered at her, curious. "Like what you see?" She answered with a sneer. "How cute, it can speak too." "Speak? So says the overgrown lizard." The shadow dragon lifted his front paw and placed it on the cart, pushing until it cracked and broke. "You're dead. And more importantly, very aggressive for a corpse. What's bothering you?" Groaning, and shivering from the odd magic he pushed into her, she tried to keep her sass about her. "You dragons and your 'tude. You get everything on a nice plate, magic, power, influence... and now you're mocking someone on death's door. I guess it's hard to be above something when you're lower than..." A cry emerged from her, the hand pushing down further. Not that he worsened her condition, it was just the agitation of her existing wounds. He couldn't risk actually bringing her past the brink of death; he wasn't THAT good. "Sssh, sssh. Calm there, little girl. If you want to go out with a bang, maybe I can help." The soldiers returned, and as soon as they handed the dragon a bag of goods, he shooed them off. "I can offer you power. Great power." "The power to look like an idiot?" "Magical power. Crystals cannot give you what you seek, but I can. My name is Xydiat. Speak." "Ophinia Onistecua. Nice to meet the grim reap..." Her attitude was pushed out, as was the air in her lungs. Magic knit together her flesh, though only enough to stop her from fainting from bloodloss. "Good girl. Now, speak: Where did you get that coin?" "I... worked as a servant for." Ophinia couldn't breathe well, the hand resting too harsh on her. "Some jackass. Figured I'd buy out my contract, with tip." The lord laughed and laughed. His paw was removed, as he started to scribe a circle into the ground. A simple channel and focus for his magic. What a hoot, a smallfolk running away with coin. "Little girl, tell me. Do you want power? Do you want to live? Do you want to go out with a bang when the time is right, instead of quietly in the room of a dragon who could care less?" "Depends on what your plan is, blackscale." "Before I explain, let's establish another rule. I am your Master now. Address me as such. Speak." Xydiat was having the time of his life. What was it again... lifebound? Oh, this was fantastic. Even if she fought him every step, the friction was like rubbing one's hands together on a cold winter day. "Master. What do you want from me?" She asked with a weak tone. The bleeding was getting too much for her, and she began to mentally deflate like a balloon. "Look at you, better than my old dogs. I want some excitement. You seem good for that." "I'm... exciting. But I'm not a stickler." "Wasn't my plan. I will simply recall you when I require entertainment." The circle was complete. He verified it once, no, twice. "Might I add, you say Master like a natural." "I know enough to work a lot of odd jobs. People like ass kissing and good work." "Bwahaha." The black dragon felt like falling over. What jester could beat such a sassy smallfolk? "Though I am not like that. This is more." He hovered his hand over her, the scaled paw casting a dark shadow, until only the shimmering claws remained visible for her. "I am your master. Wherever you are, whoever you serve. Your blood pumps from my heart. Your muscles are bound by my strings. When you speak, I breathe the air. In return, you may wield my power, life alongside me, and, probably the finest part of the deal; not die." Ophinia was normally hard as a rock. But this was scary. Was he the grim reaper? He sure had the theatrics for it. The hand floated closer, until her nose rubbed up against the soles. At least he washed himself. It didn't seem intentional though. "Life or die? Power or weakness? All I ask, slave, is that you heed my call and entertain me. I will not send you on quests, I will not send you on errands. Unless I change my mind. Speak." "What do you want me to...?" The dragon grumbled and tried to hide his disgruntlement. He should've figured she wasn't going to play right into his hand. Maybe he read too many books. Things always work out smoothly in there. "Kiss my claw, slave. Call me what I am to you. Open your heart, your mind, and let your old life die, and be replaced by mine." "Does it really have to be this dramatic?" The lizard asked in quivering voice, on the verge of preferring death. This was, to say the least, more than she'd image a romp in the woods would do to her. The hand lowered, a claw at her lips. She heard, through the darkness, energy coursing from the circle, causing flames of shadow to lap at the air. Powerful magic flowed through her body. It was like an inferno burning her up. The tissue grew back, slowly. Odds were, she'd still need a few weeks to come back, but she found the strength to grab his claw and plant a single kiss upon it. She noticed her hands were starting to emit shadows of their own, the fire burning out her hands. The dark dragon felt life leave his body. Not too much, mind, but enough that he could sense it. It was in her now. He could move it. She was like a little cloud. Left right... instantly here and quickly there.

The circle was burnt out. The markings were now an ashen black, the cart reduced to splinters. The dragon looked out the window, reading through the book again. "I should've prepared this more. Bah." He grumbled to himself, flicking through the tome and absorbing its lessons. The lizard rose from the ashes, dusting herself off. Quietly, she scrambled to get her gear and figured she'd hit the road. But as she reached the door, she was back in the centre of the room. She tried a few times, before she stomped over to the dragon. "The hell is this about?" She growled. "We're done, I'm off." She grabbed her side, feeling the pain kick in again. Nothing he caused, just her unhealed wounds. "Was I not clear enough? Little girl.." He lifted a claw, stroking her chin and lifting her head up. "Can you not sense me? Feel my power?" "I don't feel much." "Bah, fine, I'll give you a crash course if I must. I should've figured magic would be a bother to you." With a snarl, he put his finger on her forehead. "But enough of that. How do you feel?" "Pain? A lot of it? I mean, you didn't fix me entirely." "Oh, thanks for reminding me! Thank me, slave. Say I'm just the best for fixing you up at all." "What..." Her throat closed and she felt like... a doll on a string, really. She, half-choking, looked up at him. "That wasn't smoke and mirrors, little girl. If you truly served nobles, you must have a proper voice. The voice you use to address those superior to yourself. Use it. Speak." "Thank you for healing me, my lord." Ophinia knew not to tempt dragons too much. Especially not one that seemed to have an invisible hand on her throat. "On your knees." She dropped, and to be fair, he was starting to have issues hiding his excitement. He was internally squealing at how this was working out. Not only was she nice and sassy, she listened too! She was as rare as the coin she stole, so to speak. "Fate has given us both what we want. To me, entertainment. To you, power. But we'll get to that. I'm not sending you off until you're able bodied and can control your magic enough not to set yourself on fire." He frowned. Did her just... no, he didn't hear her thoughts, but something made him more acutely aware of what she was trying to think. Maybe she was just that predictable. "Think nice things. Think about all those smallfolk you'll make gasp in surprise as you clad yourself in shadows, cast spells on their mind. I am a pure dragon. I have much power, and thus, so do you." He wasn't too aware on HOW much he really gave, but hey, he wasn't the one risking it. "That does sound nice. Can I blow up buildings?" She inquired with a curious frown. "Well, er... with training, probably?" He shrugged, not too sure. Realizing what she just did, he frowned. "Do you think you're clever?" "I am clever. You need a better poker face." He coughed and cleared his throat. "Master." "Let's be clear. The better you obey and listen, the less time I have to waste grooming you. Provided you serve me well, you are but one step below me. Which is to say." His cloak of shadows grew as he spread his wings, clumsily trying to appear large in the room. "To others in this castle. To me, you are ever humble, obedient, loyal!" Ophinia stumbled back and gripped her equipment closer. Clumsy or not, a giant dragon appearing more imposing was something that makes anyone but a steeled dragonslayer fall over in fear. "Y-yes, Master." "Excellent. Leave. I already told my servants to show you your room. And talk to the guard captain. You'll be getting combat lessons. You are my lifebound client, and I'd prefer that be a long life." "Hey, quick question." She asked, stepping backwards away from him, towards the door. "Do people like, know? Or about what this...?" "I haven't a clue if other pacts exist, slave. And to my servants you are a guest. I will insure nobody else will know. Only within my domain are you my equal. Outside the walls of my castle, even my cleaners will shove you aside. After all, what stories would you gather if you weren't working your way up? And don't forget, they have no obligation to you unless I tell them. And for now, a guest, perhaps with enough stories, an equal." "To others?" "Such a clever girl." He snickered to himself and turned to the outside world. A messy start, but he was content. Maybe he should clean up his language. He couldn't really boss someone around as 'slave' in public, as fun as he found it.