#is he a dragon with a human form or a human with a dragon form?

[mindblizzard]

everyone in this game is so hot. romanceable or not is irrelevant. Hemlock. Terebithia. Errol. Josephine. Nothing but bangers all the way through town. AND the romanceable options slap harder than any other game I've played! Hayden, March, Adeline, Balor, Celine, Juniper (though I would never romance her because she's got all that going on with Valen), FUCKING CALDARUS. YOU CAN MARRY THE DRAGON GOD. REVIEW ENDED NO NOTES THIS GAME IS PERFECT.

thinking about the modding community for this game in the future has me walleyed

[writerofjourneys]

So I have a request if it’s alright with you of zhongli x phoenix reader since zhongli is a dragon right and there’s a lot of story’s apparently about a dragon and phoenix being a perfect match and I don’t know if this is true or not they represent Yin and Yang

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐮𝐬

A/N: I think I might make a continuation of this or something. I just love this idea, thanks for this, Anon! I did change Reader’s animal form from a phoenix to fenghuang since I feel is more fitting, so apologies for not meeting your exact request. And I’m also sorry for this ridiculously long wait, uni has been a pain. I don’t know how I feel about this piece, but I’ve kept it for months already and I think it’s well enough to post.

Fandom(s): Genshin Impact

Zhongli x (Adeptus)Wife Fem Reader

Summary: With the longest lasting relationship in all of Teyvat history, the union of Rex Lapis and Regina Lux is widely celebrated and respected across the seven nation than just Liyue. Even living as mortals now, your love remains, in story and in present.

One-shot

Content: Reader is an adeptus fenghuang sometimes mistaken for a phoenix, romance, fluff, Liyue Archon Quest, Liyue lore, Soft Zhongli, Retired/former Archon Zhongli, married Zhongli/Reader.

Warnings: None.

Main List | 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | AO3

Feeling the familiar stir of your rousing consciousness, you sensed the familiar touch of a hand caressing your head. Gently stroking your locks of hairs before rubbing a thumb against your cheek.

Blinking your eyes open, you’re greeted with the familiar face of your husband staring back at you, warmth and adoration in his gold eyes. The corners of his lips rising a little upwards. He always seems to look at you as if you were the most ethereal thing on this planet after all these years together. But you knew that if he were asked that very question, that was already going to be his answer.

“Good morning, my love.” Morax, now Zhongli, softly greeted, voice calm and deep. He pushed a stray hair strand away from your face.

Usually sleeping shirtless, the real colors of his arms were out in the open. A gradient of pitch black from his shoulders to a light tint of gold from his hands, some black scales peeking out. The gold symbol rune lines trailing over his whole arms gave a faint glimmer amidst the dim darkness of your shared bedroom. Or more like nest, where an abundance of pillows and blankets and a mattress as a base were scattered about that looked more like a makeshift nest than a typical bed.

Although he sticks to wearing gloves and long sleeves, Zhongli still finds it nice to have them off, which revealed his gold markings. Visible proof of his godly identity. You liked to trace them with your own hands, twinkling cosmic irises admiring their details.

“Mm, morning..” you sigh, moving to huddle closer to his body.

Zhongli welcomes your presence automatically. Wrapping his arms around your waist loosely as you’re pressed against his chest. Typically preferring to wear his own dress shirts to sleep, as they were big enough to be nightgowns on you. You commonly wore them when you were able to stay at home with your husband.

Zhongli lets out a deep purr within his chest, a sound that came straight from a beast, but its tone calmer rather than aggressive or of warning. He always adored when you’d wear his shirts, the dragon side of him pleased to have you basked in a mix of both your scents and the statement that you were his. His lover, his wife. His one and only mate.

A purr of your own responded back, soft and gentle. A different contrast to his more deeply masculine one.

Being an adventurer for the Adventurer’s Guild meant always traveling somewhere. Which can also be unpredictable about where you’re going to with commissions. Though it was possible to make a request for more local locations. Even as an adeptus posing as a human, you had to blend in with the habits of a mortal.

Of course, Zhongli welcomely offers his own assistance to accompany you when he was available. Another way to spend time with you.

Your husband hugs you a little tighter as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Brushing through your locks of hair and playing with some of the coloured streaks. “Shall we get ready for the day, little mate? We have time to spend together before I must meet with the Traveler in the afternoon.”

It was an endearing nickname he gave you all those centuries ago, with the size difference between you. Though not by vast amount, it was clear in any form your husband’s height was more than yours.

You hum in response, “I suppose we should..” you snuggle closer, taking in his warmth and his familiar scent that completely relaxes you. “I do prefer when we get ready together.”

Zhongli smiles so softly, “You had been away for quite awhile, and I am always affected by your absence.“

A small giggle escapes you, “I came back in time before the Rite of Descension, Mora. Especially to return your Gnosis.“

For a certain period of time, your husband gave his Gnosis to you for safekeeping. Even though he was fully capable of taking care of it himself, for who else would be able to steal from the Warrior God and eldest of The Seven. Though it wouldn’t be so hard to believe the Fatui could try something, their Archon made a contract with the god of contracts. He handed you the chest piece shaped power object to look after in his stead as another gesture of his unwavering trust in you.

You knew already that he trusted you without hesitation, but it was thoughtful nonetheless. Like how going on dates, giving gifts, and doting on a lover were among a list of acts in a loving relationship. To the both of you, this was just one of them.

“Yes, but you should already know, beloved, that when you must leave my side, I miss you every one of those times.”

Now a tint of pink blooms over your cheeks. Honestly, this man never fails to turn you into a blushing new bride all over again. Just like all those centuries ago when your Zhongli began to court you.

“And what is this old dragon to do without his beautiful fenghuang to complete him as his other half?” he chuckles.

“Maybe miss out on something meaningful.” you playfully teased before replying back “I always miss you when we’re apart, too.” and nuzzled his neck. “There’s no better company in this world than yours.”

Your husband looks on with adoration, giving you a light squeeze. “I can’t agree more, my wife. You have always been my blessing.“

The rosy color on your face didn’t escape Zhongli, who chuckles, a sound melodic and soothing. He had a habit of saying that. It was a common remark to describe you all those years ago by the mortals. Being referred to as such without personal connection left you indifferent towards it mostly. Which then changed when Zhongli courted you, and your relationship developed more intimately.

“Should I help style your hair, darling?” he caresses your locks spreading across your pillow. The little few coloured highlights flowing down visibly.

“You know I enjoy it when you do.” you kiss his jaw.

Walking around Liyue Harbor with arms locked together, you and Zhongli strolled over the lively bustling city, browsing over the stands and products of merchants and customers.

Before, the two of you were having breakfast in your own adeptal abode, taking in the scenery of the simulated sky, the ginkgo trees, and the lush green grass. And considering it was just the two of you alone, away from prying eyes, Zhongli guided you to sit on his lap, taking the one seat with a table of some Liyue dishes.

He had a habit of holding you close in private. Which came with the territory of having a relationship during a dominating war between gods. In all the tragedies and conflicts that passed for such long lifespans for both of you, holding each other was grounding, comforting, and reassuring.

“I wonder if the people will continue to celebrate our anniversary now that we’re gone.” you mused, fiddling with your marriage rings on your finger as your arms are between your husband’s from holding it. Sparkling starry eyes admiring some of the city’s traditional decor displaying the dragon and the fenghuang. The nation’s symbol of harmony.

“Lapis Lux is one of Liyue’s biggest festivals that predates even Lantern Rite. The celebration of the longest lasting love between us and inspiration for the people.” replied Zhongli, resting his bigger hand on top of your smaller one, where your glittering rings were worn. “With such a large influence to known to the other nations of Teyvat as well, such a holiday could never be dismissed.”

“Hm, that’s true.” you lean your head against his arm warmly.

Zhongli gives a chaste kiss to your temple, his own gaze drifting to the dragon and fenghuang symbols. He could tire of seeing them. “How does flying together sound after dinner, my Qingxin? Once I’ve settled my errands for today. We haven’t done that for some time.”

You perk up at that, flying together was always an activity you two loved doing since the beginning of your relationship. And while flying out in the open wasn’t option anymore after stepping down from godhood, you still had room to privately fly in your own sub-space home.

“Yes.” you smile. “I’ve missed those recently. We’ve both been a little busy. Speaking of…” you trail off, curious. “How goes the funeral planning? I’m sure you’ve been having a fun time, darling.”

It was ironically humorous and perhaps morbid to have the deceased be the one to plan their own funeral ceremony after all.

Zhongli’s amber eyes gleam with a hint of amusement and seriousness. “It’s been going smoothly. The Traveler has been a kind aid.”

The brunette had informed you of his own meeting with the Traveler and his floating companion as you talked about your latest visit to Mondstadt. Soon, it would be time to meet the Traveler again at Third-Round Knockout after previously settling things at Bubu Pharmacy.

You both did separate for a time for Zhongli to plan the Rite of Parting as part of his own occupation and duty.

“Well, it couldn’t have been easy for him. The Archon he had planned to meet next ended up dead before him the second he arrived.” you mused.

“Yes, while I do feel it unfortunate for him, the time for our departure from our posts had no better timing than now.” he replied. “After all, how dare the Geo Archon perish and leave his wife a widow? It goes against the very vows of their union. The most sacred of all of Rex Lapis’ contracts is with Regina Lux.”

Zhongli gazes at you with humour evident on his face. A teasing smile on his lips. “The whole of Teyvat may smite my spirit for such grievance.”

You gave a small laugh, “Of course, how could he?”

The performance of making both of your deaths in front of a crowd believable was a… unique experience. It went without saying that when Zhongli decided to retire his Archon role, he couldn’t leave you behind, especially to deal with the aftermath of the people’s attention on you because of it.

The Rite of Descension came with Rex Lapis descending upon his people for his divine predictions, while Regina Lux accompanied him with divine counsel for Liyue’s governing structure and measuring of time, seasons. Both greatly respected by their people for their eye for strategy.

And as your husband said, you both made a vow to be at each other’s sides no matter the unexpected circumstances. As the ultimate contract between you, in a mix of desire and responsibility.

“Hey, look!” Paimon says as she and Aether stopped on one of their walks in Liyue Harbor to meet with Zhongli when they spotted you together. “It’s (Y/N)! We only ran into her once in Liyue. And she’s with… Zhongli? Is Paimon seeing what you’re seeing..?” she blinked in confusion and surprise.

Aether gave a similar expression before calmly thinking aloud, “To be so close to each other like that.. Does that mean the spouses they mentioned to us before was each other all along..?”

“Let’s go ask! Paimon wants to know!” she urged with curiosity.

Hearing a familiar voice call out to you both, you turn to be greeted by the Traveler and his floating travel guide.

“Oh, hello Traveler, Paimon.” you casually greet with an easy smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

You first met the traveling pair at the Adventurers’ Guild back in Mondstadt. Recognized as a famous adventurer across the seven nations, your job naturally consisted of going to different places. The three of you made friendly conversation and good terms.

On your last day in the city, you spoke to the pair in meeting again in Liyue. You did run into them as you said when they came for the Rite of Descension, but hadn’t seen them afterwards until now.

Paimon only made a gawking face as she darted eyes between you and Zhongli. Mind still processing.

“Hi, (Y/N). We were about to meet up with Zhongli at Third-Round Knockout.” the blond reciprocated casually, unlike his pixie guide. Aether eyed the wedding rings on both of your left hands intriguingly. It very much complimented each other. Even the designs of your outfits bore similarities side by side, yet individually different; like your color palettes.

“That’s right, it was about that time.” Zhongli responds, hand on his chin.

“Wait-wait-wait! Hold on a second!” Paimon exclaimed with a wave of her arms. “The two of you are married to each other?!”

Your husband was unfazed as he answered her. “Why, yes. We’ve been married for a very long time now.”

Paimon seemed to finally calm down after the surprising fact. “When you guys were talking about being married, we didn’t think it was between each other!” she scratches her head. “And to think that we already met you both without realizing… Talk about a coincidence..”

You and Zhongli look at each other before lightly chuckling.

“Yes, that’s true.” you agreed. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret or anything. But it is a funny correlation.”

You smiled at them, “I also appreciate you helping my husband for the Rite of Descension. It’s a big task to handle alone, especially now.”

“Oh, we don’t mind.” she shakes her head. “It works out for all of us.” she then mumbles to herself, “Guess we know who does the finance in this marriage...”

“Paimon.” Aether lightly scolds.

Paimon immediately tries to correct her words, apologizing for running her mouth like that.

You only chuckle a little at her, Zhongli wasn’t offended and merely brushes it off, “In any case, since we’ve run into each other, why don’t we head to Third-Round Knockout now?”

You then let go of your husband’s arm, much to both of your reluctance. “That’s my cue then. I should be taking my leave anyhow. I have something to discuss with the Branch Master at the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt you.” apologized Aether, sheepish.

“It’s no problem.” you dismiss, unperturbed.

“I will see you in the evening, then, my dear.” Zhongli kisses your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Mhm, see you.” you hum softly, squeezing his own hand before walking off, the long hem of the back of your Liyuen dress fluttering behind you.

Staring off after you for a moment, the ex-Archon turns his attention to the traveling pair; who tried to adjust to this sudden smitten side of him. “Let’s go then, shall we?”

Standing beside each other hand in hand again, you and Zhongli both watched down at the harbor as Osial, an old foe, rose from the waters, letting out a fierce roar echoing in the skies.

The Jade Chamber flew to the serpent god as adepti and the mortals gathered

together to stop him. Along with the Traveler’s aid.

“Now the real test begins…” you mutter, grasping Zhongli’s hand firmly.

“So it has…” he quietly replies. He then turns to you, “Although I’m confident in Liyue’s own strength, whatever happens from here on out, I’m happy to have experienced this mortal life with you.”

You smile at him lovingly, “For me, too. No matter what, I’m with you to the end.”

Zhongli brings you to his side, wrapping an arm around your back as you both observed the fight unfold.

When Osial was defeated and sealed away once again, proving Liyue’s independent perseverance. You and Zhongli were able to fully let go of your godly lives to mortal ones.

And when Zhongli went alone to Northland Bank to keep his end of the contract with the Tsaritsa for his Gnosis, Aether and Paimon had to adjust to the other surprising fact about your identity once realizing who Zhongli really was.

If Morax was said to truly be devoted to his wife, then there was no conceivable way he’d be with another. There wouldn’t be anyone else more committed to the contract of marriage than the god of contracts himself with the god of light, Alloces.

How, as the two gods fell from the sky to their end, their bodies twisted around each other in an interlocking embrace. Where the Lord of Geo held his beloved protectively even after their vessels were deprived of their divine souls.

You recalled when speaking with Cloud Retainer from a recent visit how Paimon had vocally mistaken you for a phoenix. With your adeptus form being a bigger bird from Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper’s, your bird form lightly glowed with the colour of gold and sunlight, end feathers shimmering like gold mist, some of your multicoloured hair streaks as feathers of red, blue, and green.

The female crane adeptus made a huff of disapproval at the mixup, wondering how many others outside Liyue would always make the misconception and ignorance of the spouse of the only married Archon, the only other god to rule Liyue alongside Rex Lapis being a phoenix. It humoured and intrigued you of this myth some people mistakenly believed.

While it was appreciable to see an old friend and attendant be of defence in your honour, there was amusement in seeing Cloud Retainer’s reaction to it.

There was also the small irony that you carried a fake Pyro Vision on you to blend in. You didn’t actually have the same compatibility to it like your husband, the master of his element, but your power and magic abilities could make them appear pyro.

Zhongli had suggested you could try Geo, but you thought it interesting to be of a different element from him.

“One would think after so many years has passed, the mortals would come to understand the keen difference between a phoenix and a fenghuang.” she says with disappointment. “Especially to the being who taught them the teachings and ways of the stars and light, who brought prosperity and counseling of Rex Lapis’s ascension as one of The Seven. Including the perfect example of marital union! Honestly, the ignorance..!”

“It’s all right, Cloud Retainer.” you assured. “They don’t mean harm or malice by it.”

“While that is true, your leniency is what truly comes out most, Regina Lux.” she responds.

“Well, it wasn’t something I had to worry about. And it’s not a common misunderstanding.” you take a sip of the teacup presented to you. “In any case, with the Qixing, Liyue may turn out just fine.”

Cloud Retainer shifts her gaze to the sky, still begrudging. “If it by your words, may your judgment be sound, Regina Lux.”

“You are not from this land.” A deep male voice spoke a few feet away from you.

Calmly turning your head, you look to see a man who was clearly not mortal. You immediately knew who he was, his reputation and appearance easily recognizable. A white hood over his head, gold rune patterns decorating his arms that traced as veins to gold coloured hands, dressed in interesting garments. In your observation, it glowed and symbolized power.

You meet his golden gaze with your starry ones. “No, I am not. Merely here to view the scenery in front of me.”

He tilts his head a little, gold eyes intense as he searches for anything to be wary of, the eyes of a beast. “Is passing through another deity’s territory common for you?”

“By harmless means, I bear no motive but to cross the lands soundly.”

The deity stares at you contemplatively, tone mildly rumbling and brutish. “Hm, you should exercise more caution next time, a god’s reaction is unpredictable with unfamiliar faces of another.”

“Fair enough.” You stand from your seat from the view of the sky and mountains. “Shall I not disturb you any longer, Lord of Geo? I am not ignorant of your strength.”

His eyes turned half-lidded as he took in the likeness of the night in your irises, “You are aware of me as I am of you, Lady of Light. A being untethered of followers, roaming over the lands. But never claiming, your presence doesn’t deter me.”

“Then I may continue watching the landscape from here?”

“I—”

“As I thought, you were here, beloved.” Zhongli’s voice calmly spoke from behind you.

Turning your head, you looked back to see your husband making his way towards with a sweet smile on his lips.

The hand that was playing with the rectangular diamond shaped Cor Lapis gem hung on the bottom front of your elegantly designed chocker now rested on your lap. The Qingxins around you lightly glowing white from its petals under the moon, blooming in full.

“Hehe, you know me so well.” you say in light amusement, looking fondly at him as he comes to sit beside you.

You both occasionally went to a cliff to gaze down at Liyue Harbor, like spectators of an artwork. Watching from afar to the pleasant view of the busy and prosperous city. Sightseeing from far away to look at how far Liyue had come to be what it is. How both of your guidances and co-rulership led to this nation of prosperity.

“Came to join me, did you?” you tilt your head playfully.

“Naturally so,” he wrapped an arm around you to rest on his side, moving the other to grasp the hand on your lap. “I was deprived of your touch.”

You smile, feeling serene and content as you snuggled into him more, head resting under his chin. “Better now?”

Zhongli hums, “Very much so, but don’t think I’ll be letting go now, dearest.”

A small laugh escapes you, “Oh, I know.”

Taking some moments of silence, the both of you watched Liyue. How the city lights glowed in the night sky, the peaceful atmosphere around you, it was everything you had hoped it would all be.

Taking a breath to sigh, you’re mildly surprised to feel the familiar trace of Zhongli’s hand brushing your cheek before you noticed him tucking a Qingxin flower into your hair, breezing pass one of your dangling noctilucous jade earrings.

While Glaze Lilies were known to be a national flower of Liyue, for its appeasement to song and moon, regional from the land, you always had an affinity with Qungxins among the nation’s flora. While Glaze Lilies could be resided in fields where domestic ones were gardened by people, you found interest in Qingxins locating on cliffs and mountain tops. Like they were trying to reach the sky and view the land below.

Though you found numerous flowers across the seven nations to be just as wondrous. As someone who used to travel place to place without your own territory, your journeying spirit never left. After settling down from your marriage with Morax for the past thousands of years, becoming an adventurer as a mortal brought back this old side of you. But nothing beats the domesticity of marriage with your husband and the land you looked after together.

“You are radiant, baobei…” the ex-Archon gently spoke, lightly touching the intricate hairpin attached to your half-up bun. With the design of your fenghuang form on the back of the fabric of your slit skirt, with hints of his dragon-qilin adeptus form as well. It laid the hidden meaning of your identity and claim to your husband. Details intimate and hidden for both of you.

Credit to Menogias’ keen eye and sense of fashion. Who foound a hobby in coordinating your outfits together.

It only made this god of old before you pleased and content at the sight. Including the chocker necklace you always wore. With gold and silver accents and a rhombus shaped Cor Lapis gem dangling. Matching the rhombus pin on his tie and your ring. Hiding the faint traces of an inhuman bite and the Geo symbol imprinted on the back of your neck, along with another on your navel and an actual tattoo of his adeptus form. The dragon side of Zhongli always carrying a possessive and marking trait, but never against your own will. That also included having your fenghuang form tattooed on him underneath all his layers.

The tattoos themselves invisible to the naked eye unless revealed or with great elemental perception.

Gold amber eyes twinkling with warmth and love as he gazed at you, always able to melt and flutter his stone heart. “Throughout all these years together, I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to be by my side all these years.”

You smile adoringly at him as you press your body as close as physically possible against his, “I love you so much you know..”

Your husband strengthens his hold on you as his other hand sweetly rubs the exposed thigh from one of the slits of your dress and away from your thigh high boot.

“I always know, my sweet mate.” Zhongli leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “And I love you, much more than you are already aware.”

You smile very softly content over your husband’s shoulder. He then pulls you onto his lap sideways, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You are the most precious treasure to me in all of Teyvat.” With both half-lidded eyes, he gazes upon your irises, that move and change like a reflection of the night.

“And I will never stop reminding you that I am yours for eternity, my wife, my love, my treasure. I dedicate my life, soul and heart to you, and only you.” he then pulls you onto his lap, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Even when, one day, we reach the end of our time, we’ll be together.”

You lean against him as you both look upon the city and the landscapes you’ve watched over for centuries.

“To this mortal life of ours now.”

Zhongli smiles softly, “Yes, to this mortal life we have.”

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

What about a dragon prince au?

Adam is part of a family that can turn into dragons, their feared by the humans. So they send Lucifer up as an ambassador to work out a peace agreement.

Sera, the matriarch would like a better relationship with humans, and so would her daughter. But her son, on the other hand is a different story.

He hates humans and thinks their entitled. He's the main reason theres such hostility between them and humans, as he thinks they should worship him and his family.

Adam: I really don't know why he need this fucker here.

Sera rolled her eyes: We need to fix relations between us. I refuse to let there be anymore violence between us. Especially from you, Adam.

Adam: Pft. So I burned down a few villages- who cares!? They were full of uggos anyway.

Lucifer instantly hates Adam, especially when he realizes he's the golden dragon that's been causing the most casualties.

But Sera is determined to change her sons view of humans, so she forces him to show Lucifer around their estate. She's made the threat of cutting his wings off if he doesn't behave and show Lucifer respect.

Of course, Adam manages to slip in some rude comments and jokes at Lucifer's expense. Lucifer is definitely pissed off. He didn't want to be here to start with, and he really doesn't want to deal with this guy.

He really hates how hot Adam is, and he's definitely not checking him out as he shows him around.

I love everything about this!

-

Adam might have a human form but that didn't mean he liked humans and this one in particular was rather annoying. But his mother told him to play nice and show him around, so that's what he's doing.

The only thing that gave away that Adam was a dragon was his eyes, they were bright gold and his pupils weren't perfectly round.

Lucifer walked with his arms crossed as he followed him, the palace was lovely but Adam was an asshole.

A pretty asshole but still.

Adam sighed: And that is the path to the village.

Lucifer: Village?

Adam: Is there an echo in here? Yes, village where everyone lives. Don't get any ideas.

Lucifer: What? What ideas?

Adam kept walking and they passed a garden that he didn't comment on.

Lucifer: What about the garden?

Adam frowned: You're not allowed in there.

Lucifer: Why?

Adam rolled his eyes; You're just not, now come on.

[httyd-art-requests]

Hellooo!! I saw a drawing come across my dash recently by you that I believe was original art with your ocs?? I’m a big sucker for httyd ocs and I was wondering, how many do you have? Would you be willing to talk about them maybe??

YIPPEE I love talking about my OCs!! Thank you for the interest, I'm more than willing to talk about my little guys and gals <3 It's probably going to get long, sooo...

OC lore and art under the ominously placed readmore button. smile

Dreamer

The pair you (probably) saw the art of are my self insert, Dreamer, and his Deathgripper companion Draugr. Dreamer is a scholar and healer's apprentice who arrives on New Berk to study dragons in order to better heal them... except he's also terrified of them. Draugr is one of Grimmel's former Deathgripper minions who was stranded on New Berk after the events of (my alternate version of) THW. Dreamer nurses him back to health, and in return he helps Dreamer get over his fear of dragons.

Dreamer also has 2 Terrible Terror buddies, and they're also the ones who deliver all your asks to me :) They're called Terror Mail for a reason, hehe

Light Furies

I have a pair of female Light Fury OC named Eclipse and Sunny, who are a mated pair. Eclipse is melanistic and a menace to humans and dragons alike, and Sunny is the only dragon she likes having around her. Grumpy one × Sunshine one.

Eclipse was gravely injured in a fight to defend her territory from another dragon, and would have perished had Sunny not stumbled upon her. Sunny, a young female who recently left her flock to establish her own, refused to leave a fellow Light Fury to her fate- no matter how much of a hassle she insisted on being. And thus, Sunny slowly carved out a place for herself in Eclipse's cold, cold heart, and two of them remained by eachother's sides ever since.

I plan on redrawing them sometime soon, now that my style has changed somewhat

The Huntsman

The proverbial meat and potatoes of my OC roster. He has the most detailed story out of all of them, and he's one of my favorite OCs I've ever made <3

His name is Iskar, also known by his moniker as the Huntsman. He's the son of a dragon hunter who, after his father's fleet was burned down and pillaged by a mysterious warlord, was raised by the family of a blacksmith on a faraway island where dragons only exist in folktales.

Well, except for one...

Iskar's Night Fury, Warden, who was kept as a living trophy on his father's ship before it burned. Iskar formed a bond with the dragon, who then stole him away to save his life. The two of them have become inseperable, and Warden is part of the reason Iskar is feared across the Archipelago. As for the other reason...

Iskar also gets involved with Drago Bludvist, following a trail of rumors in an attempt to find his father again. Drago blackmails him into working for him, and Iskar becomes something like a personal attack dog and assassin for Drago. He earns himself a reputation and becomes a wives' tale across the Archipelago, and it isn't until he meets Hiccup, during Drago's siege on Berk, that he's convinced to take up arms against Drago and free himself. Iskar switches sides to help save Berk, gives Hiccup his own world map as a farewell gift, and returns home to his family after nearly 10 years.

In a sort of epilogue / theoretical second movie, Iskar takes his niece, Valorie, to Berk so she can learn to train dragons "the proper way". Needless to say, Berk is not very happy to see the man responsible for almost getting their island destroyed. Iskar acts as a translator between Valorie and the Berkians, as Valorie doesn't speak their language and Iskar does (on account of his travels with Drago), and through the course of their stay on the island, he successfully redeems himself in the eyes of the Berkian population.

Valorie

Okay she's not actually Iskar's niece. She's the daughter of Runar and Ylva, the blacksmith and his wife who originally raised Iskar, and the ones Iskar returned home to after he was free of Drago. They had her while Iskar was away working for Drago, and she was around 8 years old when he came back home, give or take. She grew up knowing him as Uncle Iskar, the globetrotter and explorer who occasionally came home to bring her cool presents.

She grew up with a Night Fury around the house, so naturally, she became fascinated by dragons and dragon riding- which Iskar definitely didn't help with, considering he engineered Warden's saddle to have a second seat right behind the rider's own.

She eventually bonds with a Stormcutter while studying under Berk's finest (Fishlegs), whom she names Windseeker.

Valhalla's Gate

Not a character, but an island Iskar discovers during his travels as a free man after Dragos defeat. Iskar is a cartographer by profession, thus the handcrafted world map he gifts Hiccup, which just so happens to contain directions to a hidden island Iskar has named Valhalla's Gate.

It's a dragon sanctuary through and through, built around and on the back of a sleeping Foreverwing which guards the island and all of its inhabitants. You can only approach the island on dragon back, similar to how you could only leave Vanaheim by smelling a certain way to trick the Sentinels in RTTE. A natural defense mechanism, if you will.

Iskar often takes detours on his travels to visit the island, and becomes well known by all the dragons that live on it. Hiccup also finds it thanks to Iskar's map, shortly after Berk rebuilds itself and Hiccup has to suddenly take on a lot of chiefly responsibilities- and what better way to deal with newfound responsibilities than to follow a mysterious map given to you by a guy who tried to kill you? Surely nothing can go wrong. Smile.

Conclusion

There's a lot more to say about all of them, but hopefully this about covers the important parts. I could go on about Ylva and Runar, Iskar's relationship with Eret and Hiccup, Dreamer's relationship with the Berkians, etc etc, but this reply is long enough already lol

I'm always happy to talk about my characters, so feel free to ask me stuff about them if you guys are interested! But, seeing as this is primarily an art request blog, I won't be talking about them much unless someone asks. That's what @wardenofdragons is for!

(He says, knowing full well he keeps forgetting to post on it)

[senselessviolets]

random will graham headcanons (childhood, teen years, college, etc.)

Rating T

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder (canon typical), homicidal ideation, child abuse, alcoholism.

Author’s Notes:

Title says it all. Just some headcanons based off of the show, bits of Red Dragon and my own personal intuition because I'm THAT good. /s

He doesn’t know why his mom left because his dad refuses to tell him and would get furious anytime he brought it up as a child. 

He experienced corporal punishment from his dad but if asked, wouldn’t consider it to be abuse—no matter how emotionally traumatic it was for him. 

His dad George was a survey technician in the US Army Corps of Engineers. His mother Adaline had worked as a pharmacist before Will was born. 

He was never allowed pets growing up, hence why he now owns so many dogs.

With his undiagnosed ASD and constant moving around for his dad’s job, Will struggled to form any long-lasting, meaningful relationships in his youth.

His dad would occasionally write letters to Will and send him various gifts (Bourbon, aftershave, new lures) around the time of his birthday or the holidays. He stopped after Will was imprisoned and hasn’t written to him since. 

Will tried to approach girls he had crushes on when he was a teen but they were always dismissive of him or thought he was weird.

He lost his virginity in a clumsy drunken one-night stand in his sophomore year of college. She was his roommate’s ex and there was some drama over it.  

Will has experienced lots of frustration with the women in his romantic life who in his mind toyed with his feelings and strung him along. He was always so willing to commit himself to the right girl and even imagined himself as the kind to settle down and get married young but the opportunity never arose.  

Throughout his teenage years, he imagined often how he would kill his dad and was convinced he could get away with it.

Will dated a Law student in his junior and senior year of college and they had been going steady until after they’d slept with each other one night and Will had a hyperrealistic dream in which he strangled her in her sleep, dismembered her, and scattered her all around campus. This dream disturbed Will so deeply that he broke things off with the girl right after, providing little explanation as to why.

Will’s want to become a father and to protect and nurture his “strays” (Abigail Hobbs, Georgia Madchen, Peter Bernadone, his actual fucking dogs) is very much ego-driven. It’s not as genuine or wholesome as he might want you to think or how he even perceives it to be.

Will was pretty widely disliked at the police department he was a detective for as well as the FBI Academy.

His alcoholism developed as a way to numb his overstimulated senses and to cancel out the intrusive thoughts he has. As time has gone on, his reliance on liquor has only grown; a habit he picked up from his father.

Will is a notoriously harsh grader and is quick to shut down any dissenting opinions about his “style of teaching”.

He’s definitely had inappropriate thoughts/fantasies about a few of his students, ranging from shallow sexual attraction to full-blown abduction. 

He doesn’t own a television or a computer and begrudgingly owns a smartphone for his job. 

The majority of his interests and likes/dislikes are ones he got from his dad. His dad loved to fish. His dad’s favorite singer was Johnny Cash. His dad liked the color green. Will probably feels as if these are what he should like and if you actually asked him how he felt about ____ or if he really liked XYZ; he wouldn’t know how to answer. 

A huge part of the reason he loves dogs is that they do not know they are ‘kept’. As opposed to a human being who could recognize if they were taken from everything they know or forced to live the life of another; dogs don’t think that way and above all, they are undyingly loyal. 

^^ And yes, this is my way of saying I subscribe to the popular headcanon that Will has stolen some of his dogs.

Morally grey sweaty dog man.

I hate him.

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[dsudis]

Baking Day (Dragon!Dream/Hob, baking)

Written for @sdbingo for the "Baking" square, which obviously cried out for a dragon AU?

Hob awoke that morning, as he did every morning now, as warm and comfortable as any prince could be in a palace. He smiled to himself and cuddled closer to the warmth given off by the great black dragon Dream, of the Endless line of dragons.

Dream was sufficiently ancient and powerful that he could take other shapes as he chose, including the lordly human form in which Hob had first encountered him. Hob had been in the midst of proclaiming to his friends that sacrificing to the ancient dragons was stupid, and everyone only went along with it because they always had. He would never give tribute nor be sacrificed, he had decided.

He and Dream still debated, occasionally, whether Hob had kept to his decision in the end, after Dream had demanded him and Hob had been delivered to him. Hob would point out that he had neither willingly given up any tribute nor—as he was still alive and looked fair to stay so for a very long time—been sacrificed.

Dream took the view that since he was the dragon in question and had gotten all he wanted from Hob, tribute and sacrifice both could be taken as read—however happily given they had been in the end.

It was a stupid argument, and Hob looked forward to continuing to have it over and over for the next thousand years or so, as the powerful magic which protected Dream's hoard extended to the living beings the dragon counted as his own, and made them nearly as immortal as the dragon himself.

Unfortunately there were some necessities even a dragon's magic could do nothing about; Hob still had to get out of his fine cozy bed and go take a piss in the morning. He stretched and squirmed, considering whether he could steal a little more sleep before he did anything so drastic. He had the black silken coverlet more or less wrapped around him, an absurdly lofty thing filled with goose down or some such, embroidered with an array of tiny silver stars.

He had gone to sleep under it, sharing it with Dream when they had curled up together, Dream being still in his human form then. Dream claimed that, ancient and powerful being that he was, he had no need for anything so ordinary as a good night's sleep, and indeed that he did not sleep, ever, the way that Hob and the other mortal creatures did.

All the same, they had yet to pass a whole night sharing a bed without Dream somehow losing track of himself sufficiently to revert to his natural dragon form. Luckily he always seemed to instinctively move himself as he changed so that he had never yet crushed the bedstead or damaged any of the bedclothes, though he also never let Hob go too far from him.

This morning, Hob found, when he grudgingly opened an eye to examine the situation, they had ended up beside the bed. Dream's great head actually rested on the mattress, as if it were a nice little bolster pillow for him—and it was about the right size for that, grand as it was for a human bed. The rest of Dream's great body coiled around the bedstead, his tail trailing out the bedchamber door.

Hob himself was cradled upon Dream's great forelimbs, which were folded before his chest—the warmest spot of any to lie against Dream, though no part of him was ever chilly. Hob lay tucked close to Dream's heart, though, hoarded more closely than any of his treasures. Even his great ruby he had set aside for the night; only Hob stayed close to him all night long.

Hob braced a hand against the scales of Dream's neck, and tried to slide away.

Dream huffed sleepily and shifted position, using his neck now to hold Hob in place, turning his head so he could look at Hob with one eye open just a slit to reveal blackness and faint gleaming stars.

"Morning, love," Hob said, converting his push against Dream's neck to a petting motion. "Mind if I get up and tend to a few necessities?"

Dream grumbled, low enough to gently vibrate Hob where he was held so closely; some mornings Hob would quite enjoy that—and would have several ideas for how to continue the play—but this morning it only made him more aware that he really needed to get up and get to the privy.

"No, Dream, I really need to this time," Hob said, keeping his voice gentle but leaving no humor in it to be misinterpreted.

Dream sighed, but lifted his neck and head enough to free Hob, angling the leg he was mostly lying on to give him a gentle step down to the floor. Hob took it, divesting himself of the coverlet as he hurried over to the privy—here in Dream's aerie, it was contained in a little room carved out of the same stone as the main chambers they lived in. Hob wasn't sure whether it was some property of the stone and the way the wind moved among the mountain spires, or a discreet use of magic that made the smell of the room so unobjectionable, but he appreciated it all over again every morning. He washed up in the basin of spelled water—always warm, always perfectly clean—and slipped back out to find Dream again.

His beloved stood by the bed, just settling the coverlet into place over it, his pale-skinned human form wrapped in a black velvet robe. Hob had a matching one in a particular green-brown shade that Dream insisted was especially flattering to him; Hob just knew it was warm and softer than anything he'd ever touched in his old life. He shrugged it on, and Dream was there before he could get it closed to fasten up the ties exactly as he liked them—he had a way of making all the little bows hang prettily that Hob could not possibly imitate.

When that was all taken care of, Dream tilted his head in the way that meant he was presenting himself to be kissed, and Hob duly kissed him, curling a gentle hand around the back of his neck and keeping it mostly sweet. Dream had just made up the bed, after all, and Hob hadn't had his breakfast yet.

He broke off the kiss just as his stomach growled audibly, and Dream's expression shifted rapidly from bereft to stern. "How many times have I told you not to starve yourself?"

"Almost as many times as I've explained that humans just get hungry several times a day," Hob returned, planting one more quick kiss on Dream's lips before stepping around him and heading off to the outer room. This was a space twice the size of any cottage in Hob's village, which contained the larder and a table to sit at while eating, as well as softer chairs and couches for lazing about, which was Dream's preferred activity for most of every day.

Hob fetched himself some cold ham and the last half of a loaf of bread, and Dream followed him to the table with a jug of water and an apricot and a plum—he was very insistent about Hob eating fruit or greens at every meal, and had finally accepted that greens were not to be contemplated before noon.

Dream used a fine little knife with a gold-chased handle to cut the fruit into slices, which he fed to Hob one at a time, lifting each to his lips whenever Hob paused between rather less tidy bites of the ham and bread.

Hob waited until he was nibbling the last crust—and Dream was licking the last of the apricot juice from his fingers—before he said, "Dream, love. Do you know what day it is?"

Dream gave him a baleful look. "Fritterday? Mugsday?"

"I like those," Hob said cheerfully, not allowing himself to be drawn into another discussion of the fact that before Hob's coming Dream had been far too dragonly and superior for such things as days of the week. He had slept through whole seasons—whole years, sometimes, back then, and now that he had Hob to look after he was cruelly compelled to spend some part of every single day awake and moving about. "We should put those on our calendar. But no, it's Tuesday, actually. Do you know what Tuesday is?"

Dream squinted at him suspiciously.

"I'll give you a hint," Hob said, and spread his empty hands. "There's not a bit of bread in the house."

Dream let out a great, aggrieved sigh and then pointed one black-nailed finger at Hob. "You got me out of bed under false pretenses."

"That's right!" Hob said brightly, leaning across the table to give Dream's scowling face a kiss. "It's baking day! Five loaves for me, and cakes for you, and a few batches of seedy rolls..."

"I do not require," Dream informed him stiffly, "cakes."

"Oh, right, must have been me ate all of those, I just forgot," Hob said, standing up to gather up his baking supplies. "I do love cakes. Could you hot up the oven, darling? I thought I'd make a few batches of biscuits to take round to Lucienne and Mervyn and Abel and so on."

"Cain will eat them all," Dream grumbled, but he moved away from the table and went to kneel before the oven. He glanced back to make sure Hob was at a safe distance, and that the larder door was closed and Hob hadn't scooped out any flour yet. Hob raised his spotless hands to show he hadn't; he'd learned that lesson very well when Dream demonstrated why it mattered.

Then Dream turned back to face the big oven and blew into it—not just breath, for despite his present shape he was not just a man. He blew fire, just as his great dragon form could, a tiny white-hot stream that made the air ripple like water all around Dream. Hob could feel the warmth of it even from here, as though he were basking in the summer sun. He smiled fondly while Dream cut off the stream of fire and glowered into the oven.

He breathed a few more little gouts of flame, gave the oven another long careful look, and then gestured Hob to come and join him.

"Be careful," he said as Hob approached. "It is very hot."

Hob didn't bother to point out that he could feel that—it was properly hot standing in front of the open oven door, to the point of being uncomfortable, like standing too close to a bonfire on a hot summer night. He came as he was bidden and stood just behind Dream to peer in, letting Dream quietly fret over the possibility that Hob might reach in and touch the heated oven—as if he would, when he could see every surface of the inside of it glowing with heat.

Never mind the stray little burns he had collected here and there, putting things into the oven or taking them out—they were tiny and did not signify, no matter how Dream fussed over them. Dream had pointed out at great length, the first time, how his own fire would never, never hurt Hob, for it was an extension of himself—but once he used his flame on the stone of the oven, it was simply very hot stone which cared nothing for Hob and would burn him to the bone if it got the chance.

Dream hadn't worked out a way to bake bread (or cakes) without the oven, though, so Hob still got his way every week.

"That looks beautiful," Hob told him, and felt pleased with himself for being able to see the colors it glowed and know what they meant, after months of practice. "That should be ready for the bread by the time it's risen, and then we'll do the cakes and rolls and biscuits."

The whole room was cozily warm, even when Dream shut the oven door on the greatest part of the heat; the bread would rise well, despite the autumn chill of the air outside.

"Right, let's get to work, then," Hob said, and headed for the larder.

"I do not see why I should," Dream muttered behind him, and Hob just smiled and ducked into the larder, hanging his robe up on the hook in there and changing it for a long linen smock—and linen braies for underneath, because he never could feel right about baking with nothing properly covering his privates. Dream joined him a moment later—in his own black linen smock with absolutely nothing underneath, and short enough to show his slightly knobby knees and the hairless length of his shins and ankles, as smooth in skin as in scales.

"Did you miss me so soon?" Hob asked, grinning as he tied off his braies.

Dream didn't deign to answer him, just took the lid off the flour barrel and began scooping flour into the biggest of the wooden bowls. Hob collected the starter, the saltcellar, and the endless jug of tepid water, and followed him back out to the worktable nearest the oven.

Hob set to work making bread dough; Dream helped him with the kneading and did not actually complain about it, though he was unusually quick to notice a raven at the window, and whistled the spell that opened the window to admit her. Jessamy tumbled through accompanied by a welcome gust of cool wind from outside, and lighted daintily on the corner of the table, away from any danger of being splattered with flour.

"What news?" Dream asked, though without slackening the pace of his kneading. His solemn tone contrasted wonderfully with the smear of flour he still hadn't noticed across his cheek. "Is there some matter that requires my attention?"

Hob was sure that Jessamy heard as clearly as he did the hope in Dream's voice, that some crisis in his realm might draw him away from the indignity of bread day.

"Well," Jessamy said. "There could be a requirement. To remind Hob to make plenty of the rolls with seeds."

Dream glared so furiously at Jessamy that a bit of steam escaped his presently human-shaped nose; Hob hid a laugh against his own arm as the bird simply preened and settled herself comfortably on her perch.

"There is also a requirement," Jessamy added. "To keep warm. It gets colder every day out there, you know."

Dream's irritation dropped away immediately into concern. "I did not think the winter troubled you. If it becomes too cold—"

"Tch, no," Jessamy waved her wings dismissively, fearless of Dream as only his ravens were—his ravens and Hob. "There are plenty of warm places to roost among your mountains, boss. Everyone keeps warm, and if we didn't we would tell Lucienne, and she would sort it out."

Dream frowned more pensively now—not angry, but still anxious that he might be somehow neglecting his people. Hob was going to point out to him, eventually, that he was neglecting them a lot less now that he wasn't snoozing his way through whole months and years at a stretch.

He wasn't ever going to tell Dream how many of Dream's subjects had thanked him for keeping Dream from hovering over them day in and day out, as he had used to do at the times when he was awake. Hob was pretty sure between him and Lucienne they were keeping Dream's attention to his people really very reasonable.

Hob had asked Dream once, how he had ended up with so many people living among the Dreaming Spires, which at first glance were a lot of very uninviting spikes of mountains and didn't improve that much on closer inspection, though the rooms carved into them were quite pleasant and cozy. The land was Dream's, and he stored his hoard here and there among the mountains, but it didn't require that much looking after.

"They are mine," Dream had said. "Given to me, or collected by me. For my hoard. If you had not wished so particularly to stay near to me, you would have gone to live among them, as part of the horde."

Except, Hob had realized, he didn't mean horde, like an unruly band of people. He meant hoard, as in a dragon's treasure: all of his people were treasure, to him.

But Hob was the only one who could get him to help make bread, so he wasn't going to quibble about which was the most treasured. He knew very well.

"That's looking properly kneaded," Hob said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's set it to rise, and we can see what's on hand for making cakes. And seed rolls! And look, Jessamy's here to run messages if we're low on honey or sugar or anything else important."

"Hm," Dream said, patting his dough one last time and covering it with a towel. "Yes. We shall need to examine the contents of the larder carefully. Perhaps for some time."

Hob grinned and led the way, giving his hips a little shake just to make Dream press up against his back. Baking day was really the best day.

[This fic is also on Ao3!]

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ i had so much fun for @tommykinardweek day 3: supernatural creatures. introducing shapeshifter!tommy / dragon!tommy !! part (i) because i have a feeeeeeeling there'll be more dragon!tommy on the way

Read on AO3 Rated T. ~1300wd Bucktommy, (buddietommy? 👀), ft. the 118 and lucy donato

whump, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

-

here there be dragons (i) ~ a 911 AU

“Hey, Buck.” Eddie nods behind him, gesturing out the window. “Lunch plans?”

Buck turns to spot his favourite shadow; just a smudge on the horizon but growing fast. His face lights up, but falters almost immediately, as instinct whispers -

Too fast.

Normally, Tommy swoops and dives on his approach, tips a wing to say hi. Slows down. Shows off. This is different. This is careening through the sky like a meteorite; the shape of him is gnarled and twisted; the membranes of his handsome wings are scorched and torn and he's rapidly losing altitude. And balance.

“Get-”

“On it.”

Heart in his throat, Buck leaps down the stairs as many as he dares take at a time. Eddie sprints for the station's med kit and punches the manual alarm as he follows on Buck's heels. He didn't need to: Hen, Chim and Bobby are already bolting out of their seats, and if they weren't, Tommy's shriek of warning would have been enough to get them hustling. The windows rattle, and Buck feels it in every molecule of his blood – the pleading; the pain.

Tommy.

The rest happens like watching a plane crash: Tommy's wing dips just a little too far, and all at once he's flung brutally forward. Neck, tail, wings, chest: he is crushed into the pavement out front of the station with the full force of his own tremendous weight, and Buck feels the ground shudder beneath his feet.

Then, stillness. It's over.

It's over, and Buck's knees unlock and he sprints to Tommy's side, where the dragon is rapidly shrinking, trying desperately to pull back into his human form. It's usually easier that way – easier to reach and fit and treat; easier for the shapeshifters' natural abilities too – but it's bad this time. His human body can't take the damage. Tommy writhes and whimpers, wordlessly screaming, because even screaming can't exorcise what's happening. Buck knows all too well what that's like; when all you know is fireworks in your eyes, blood in your mouth, pain.

“Hey, it's okay,” Buck murmurs, and he can only hope to be heard over the agony. He creeps in closer, and almost receives a headbutt for his trouble, but he persists. “Tommy. I'm here, you made it, it's okay. You're going to be okay.”

“I need a space here, Buck,” Eddie warns, trying to dodge Tommy's flailing wings to get in close enough to help. Tommy's looking more and more human by the second, but those things are still big and vicious enough to break bones if he's not careful. Hen and Chim will have readied the tranq gun by now. He prays they won't have to use it.

Buck bites his lip, mouth dry. He's trying, even as tears fill his vision. He curses the universe, and not for the first time, that he hasn't been blessed with the healing abilities his family had birthed him for. All he has to offer is himself. He can't even absorb the pain Tommy's going through – not literally, at least – but still, he's trying.

Buck prays that Tommy, in his delirium, can't feel his hands shaking as he lifts his all too human head into his lap. He strokes the furrowed, blood-spattered brow, which is rapidly changing from flesh to scaled and back as his body fights it out for who has to take this.

“Buck,” Eddie warns.

“Just a minute!”

Eddie watches closely. If this goes wrong, if Tommy shifts again, he and Buck could very easily both be crushed. He doesn't move back though; he can't leave them vulnerable like that, and he's got the morphine ready to go the second a vein opens up. At the lip of the station, where Bobby is holding the others back - where a small crowd has formed with baited breath - Chim has the tranq gun raised. His finger hovers over the trigger, but he holds off too. Just a few more seconds. He'll just try and give them a few more...

“... Evan?”

Tommy opens dazed eyes, and Buck could almost melt into a puddle.

“Yeah, babe, I'm here. Eddie's going to give you some morphine, okay?”

Buck's tears of relief splash down onto Tommy's face but he's too preoccupied to notice. Both of them are, even as Eddie swoops in, slips the needle into the curve of Tommy's elbow and runs the line wide open. The effect is almost instantaneous: Tommy's breathing becomes less ragged, his flailing less violent. He clenches and unclenches his jaw and his fists as the pain finally, finally begins to relent.

“We- we were helping make a break up on the ridge and the whole thing came down,” Tommy rasps. “Think there was a flash over... the whole... Lucy – Where's Lucy?”

In spite of it all, he tries to pull out of Buck's arms to sit up, but between them Buck and Eddie hold him down. Eddie looks over his shoulder, mouths Lucy and Bobby nods and retreats from the doorway, already pulling out his phone.

“We'll find her,” Buck promises. “Bobby's on it. You just rest.”

Tommy nods, although he doesn't have much choice anyway, as the dizzying softness of the morphine, combined with the adrenaline drop, threatens to swallow him whole. He probably couldn't stand up right now if he tried, but at least the mad thrashing has subsided to a shiver. Buck continues to stroke Tommy's forehead gently with his fingers, then with a damp cloth, and then some antiseptic. It's as soothing for him as it is for Tommy – repetitive, familiar, useful – and he doesn't stop until Chim and Hen approach with the gurney. He doesn't stop, until Eddie taps him on the shoulder to move back. To let out a breath, and release him into their capable hands.

Come on, let's get him up.

One, two, three.

If the alarms went off right now, Buck's pretty sure he would go deaf. His every sense is heightened and tuned into Tommy; to every twitch and groan, and to the way Hen and Chim move about their business. He can hear every clink and crinkle, every beautiful ear-piercing peak of the monitor as they set him up in the back of the ambulance and check him over with a professionalism that's far out of Buck's reach at this moment. They pull out the specialised tools and treatments needed for dragon skin, and barely talk, and Buck trusts absolutely that because Tommy made it here he's going to be okay. His knees almost give out, but he's never felt better. He's never been more grateful to know some of the best paramedics in this city. To know Tommy's safe space is him and his is them.

And that – apparently – they're not the only ones looking out for him, if the brief greeting woo of the arriving ambulance is anything to go by.

“KINARD.”

Buck near jumps out of his skin as the doors fly open and the petite golden terror that is Lucy Donato storms across the Tommy-dragon crater in the driveway. She's got one arm in a sling, a matching head wound, and she's already covered in smudges of burn cream.

“Idiot took half a mountain for me,” she explains. “Is he-”

“He's stable,” Hen advises, “but it's a rough one. Cedars is prepping a specialist to receive him. We should go. D'you want in?”

Buck is already moving, and something about his enthusiasm, the automatic pull of him to Tommy softens Lucy's expression.

“Nah.” She steps aside and waves the ambulance through. “But you tell him, once he gets out of there, I'm going to kill him.”

“Love you too, Luce,” Buck farewells. She gives him a salute, and he pulls the doors shut, and they're on their way.

[space-mermaid-writing]

Prompt: Alpha-dragon Stephen and omega-dragon Tony adopt Peter after the kid's village got burned down by other dragons that weren't part of Stephen and Tony's pack and they're both very protective over him, especially Tony because Stephen and Tony's eggs had gotten stolen years ago from hunters and Tony always had that guilt even though it wasn't his fault. (Tony was at the nest but he was too weak to protect them after having the eggs and Stephen was hunting during that time)

Dragon!Stephen my beloved ♥ (and dragon!Tony as well!) I covered most of the prompt. I couldn't squeeze quite all of it in. But I already have ideas for a second part...

Beta by @harpywritesfic. Thanks again for that, dear!

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | IronStrange Masterlist | Word count: 0.9k

The smell of smoke was so strong, it made Tony snarl when he landed.

He looked around; the once charming village lay now in utter ruins. Buildings that had stood proudly, adorned with vibrant flowers and bustling with inhabitants, were reduced to charred skeletons and piles of rubble. The remnants of joy had been annihilated; a once-welcoming community, now turned to ash, devastated to its very core. What had not been burned had been torn down with force.

That was the work of a dragon.

Tony felt a deep well of anger rising within him, boiling just beneath the surface. And his heart ached for the lives that had been taken; carelessly wasted as if they were nothing more than mere objects. The anger turned into a guttural growl that erupted from deep within his chest, a raw and primal reaction to the sight of ruin before him.

He heard the soft sound of another pair of wings flapping as he felt a familiar presence land right next to him.

It was Stephen, who, having sensed Tony's distress, nudged him affectionately in an attempt to provide solace amidst the chaos surrounding them. His mate knew how much he valued all life and cared for it, and the gentle gesture was a reminder that he was not alone.

“Whoever did this, will pay for it,” Tony blustered. He took this very personally. The village itself was only on the outskirt of their lands. Still, an attack on this village felt like an attack on them.

“We will find them,” Stephen agreed; the face of the blue dragon just as grim as the red one’s.

It was rare these days for dragons to slay without reason. Wisdom and restraint were valued over impulsive violence However, there was nothing rational about this. This stank of blind rage and a senselessness that immediately turned their stomachs with a bitter aftertaste.

Disgusting.

As they walked through the remnants of burned-down houses, the soft crackling of shattered bricks and fractured roof tiles under their claws was a haunting sound. Each crunch resonated like a ghostly reminder of the lives once lived there. Dragon fire spared no one and nothing, and melted even the hardest metal. But maybe some villagers had been able to flee and thus survived.

“Stephen.”

The blue dragon looked at the omega. Tony had his head tilted, listening.

Stephen stopped walking and concentrated on their surroundings instead. Then, he heard it: the muffled sob of a human.

Tony walked towards it, down what used to be a street.

A part of a wall from one of the collapsed houses was still standing amidst the rubble. The sobs were louder over here.

Tony shifted into his human form; brown hair, amber eyes and a hint of red scales at the small dip between his neck and shoulders.

Stephen kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Dragons were much more vulnerable in their human bodies, and they didn’t know what deadly surprises may still lurk around here.

Tony stepped around the brick wall and found a small boy cowered right next to what looked like it had been a cabinet or cupboard once. Now it was barely a few charred wooden boards hanging together by a few nails. The boy had his knees pulled close to his body, and his face buried in his arms, in an attempt to be shield from the world.

Tony approached him slowly.

At the sound of another presence, the boy paused, peeking out from his concealed position. When he saw the unfamiliar man, he tried to get even smaller.

“Hey buddy,” Tony stopped a few feet away and lowered down to appear less threatening. He offered him a guarded smile that radiated warmth and understanding. “You okay there?”

It was a rhetorical question. Of course, the boy was not okay. The dragon saw it in his big, watery eyes.

“I’m Tony. What’s your name?”

The boy bit his lip. “Peter,” he mumbled with a hiccup.

“That’s a nice name. Say, Peter, are you hungry?” Tony tried to coax him out, but the boy merely shrugged, clearly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

In the meantime, Stephen waited patiently, yet still alerted in case that other humans or creatures made an appearance.

Tony's steps on the gravel were familiar to him and Stephen didn’t need to look up to know it was him. But when he turned his head to him, the alpha narrowed his eyes. Tony was carrying a child in his arms.

As he took in the details, Stephen's heart sank for a moment; the boy looked no more than ten years old, his small body delicately nestled against Tony’s chest. A fleeting glance at the child's face showed an exhausted slumber - he had probably been through more than anyone his age should experience.

Still…

“No.” The refusal slipped from Stephen's lips instinctively. “We’re not taking him with us.”

“We cannot leave him here,” Tony said with emphasis.

Unwavering in his resolve, he met Stephen’s gaze with an intensity that left no room for compromise.

Stephen knew that voice of his mate; the omega wouldn’t accept any objections.

He sighed and nodded.

“Get on my back. I will carry both of you home,” he offered.

Stephen would do anything his mate asked him to – even bringing home a human pup.

[hannaxjo]

My biggest concerns on the live action is how they’ll be able to portray Toothless’ and Hiccup’s relationship. Since that’s kinda the main point in the movie, if they screw that up then that’s that. Unfortunately for them, it’s really easy to screw up (…even when looking at the sequels). The main thing with that relationship is that it’s equal. I think the easiest way to screw them up, is by approaching it as a human and an animal forming a bond. It doesn’t work like that, because as characters, Toothless and Hiccup are equal. It honestly should be approached as a person and a person forming a bond. Because for all the purposes of the story, Toothless is a person. He understands Hiccup, just as Hiccup understands him. And the reason why their bond becomes so strong - stronger than between any other characters, dragon or human - is because they are so similar. The reason why Toothless didn’t kill Hiccup is the same reason why Hiccup didn’t kill Toothless. Because he could see he was just as terrified as him.

So the story should be approached as two characters from opposing sides, neither of whom fit in with their kind. And then they find each other, and finally someone understands them. And this bond is what brings the opposing sides together.

I’m not gonna lie, I don’t have much faith for the live action, but I do hope I’ll be proven wrong. The way to do that, is for the live action to show me that the change of medium can bring something else to the story. Because the thing about How To Train Your Dragon is, that I think it’s a perfect example of a perfect medium having been picked for a story. Those flying scenes where you feel like you’re flying with the characters wouldn’t have been possible with 2D. And in live action, the bond between Hiccup and Toothless wouldn’t have felt real, because they clearly don’t exist in the same world. 3D animation is the perfect mix of realism and non-realism, for a magical fairytale such as this to exist in.

That’s another thing I’m worried about. How they’ll be able to convince the audience of the relationship between Toothless and Hiccup when one of them is animated and the other isn’t. But that’s to be seen.

But they do need to do something with the story to show that the change in medium was worth it. A shot for shot recreation is just gonna a give a shittier version of the original. But I think there are ways they could manage. They could focus on the contrast between the joyful and the colorful with the more terrifying aspects of the story. To make them compliment each other. Because the dragons, especially Toothless, are scary. Like, there’s a reason why the Nightfury is so feared. That’s an aspect I wish they’d hone on. How terrifying Toothless can be. I mean think about the end battle. All that they threw at that thing, and it barely reacted. And then compare that to just one blast from Toothless. And the way they won, was by using Toothless’ skills against it. Silent, out of sight, and never misses. The only reason the Vikings managed to capture Toothless, is because Hiccup asked him not to hurt his dad.

So if they really use the live action medium, to bring out how terrifying dragons, especially Toothless are, then they’ll be able to showcase just how batshit insane Hiccup is for everything he does. And just how special their bond is.

And in turn, I think it would be great if they did the same for the Vikings. Make them scary, and show the audience why the dragons would fear them.

But yeah. We’ll see. It’s not Disney, so maybe I can have like an ounce more hope, but honestly…ehhh. I really don’t have a lot of faith. I don’t think the live action is necessary, I don’t think they’ll be able to use it to change or enhance anything. But, like I said, I do hope I’ll be proven wrong.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 2 - One Hundred and Eight Scars

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The flight field at Basgiath is still and dark, and appears deserted when they approach in the hour before sunrise, hugging the landscape of the mountains, the riot doing what they can to stay out of sight. 

“That does not mean that someone won’t spot us landing,” Tairn reminds her, his wings beating steadily despite having flown the last eighteen hours straight from Aretia. The window of time Xaden had given for them to get to the Vale without her being spotted is slim, and if they miss it, every hatchling will be put in danger. 

“I still don’t understand why the Empyrean would ever agree to let dragons bond human riders, knowing they’d have to guard their own kids not only against gryphon fliers but the very humans they’re supposed to trust.” 

“One, you’re projecting,” Tairn says, his voice a low grumble as he banks left to follow the geography. “And two, it’s a delicate balance. The First Six riders were desperate to save their people when they approached the dens over six hundred years ago. Those dragons formed the first Empyrean and bonded humans only to protect their hatching grounds from venin, who were the bigger threat. We don’t exactly have opposable thumbs for weaving wards or runes. Neither species has ever been entirely truthful, both using the other for their own reasons and nothing more.” 

“I never thought I needed to hide anything from you.” 

Tairn does that weird thing that makes his neck appear boneless, swinging his head around to level slightly narrowed eyes at her for a heartbeat before turning his attention back to the terrain. “You have nothing to hide from me, nothing you have ever done in your life has been morally wrong or irredeemable,” He says, his tone softer but weighted with something unspoken. “I can do nothing to remedy the last nine months besides answer your worthwhile questions now.” 

“I know,” She says quietly, wishing his words were enough to cut through the acrid taste of betrayal she can’t seem to wash out of her mouth. Or maybe that was the constant stomach acid from throwing up her guts four times in the last eighteen hour flight.But she knows that Tairn’s bond to Sgaeyl was stronger than her bond to him, so the blame is fully on Xaden. 

“We’re approaching. Get ready.” 

“Can I do a rolling dismount?” She asks, gripping the pommel of his back tighter as she leans down. Her body is already screaming after eighteen hours in the ‘saddle,’ and her awful, constant headache. But the summer wind feels nice, and she bets that sitting on the roof right now would be amazing. 

“A rolling dismount would tear you limb from limb on impact.” 

“No it would not!” She huffed, rolling her eyes, which seemed to be her new signature move. “You know rolling dismounts are a second-year maneuver, anyways.” 

“One that you will not be participating in.” Tairn grumbles. 

“Why all of a sudden are you treating me like I’m so weak?” She groaned, annoyance seeping into her words as they spilled out of her mouth. 

“Because you were poisoned by the most potent evil in our world and then decided by some miracle to live,” He dipped down, and she pressed into his back. “And no matter how good you feel right now, there is still poison in your system.” 

Well, the truth was, she did not feel good at all. And she was going to practice honesty. 

“I feel like shit.” 

“You don’t say.” Tairn’s dry tone thrummed through her, tinged with a rare warmth that almost made her laugh. “And that’s why recovery is non-negotiable.” 

“Recovery is overrated,” She muttered, stubbornly straightening up in her seat as they approached the final ridge before the flight field. Her bones ached in defiance, her head pounded, but she wasn’t about to let Tairn know she was hanging on by a thread. 

“Oh really?” Train snorted, sounding almost amused. “Then prove it.” 

With that, it felt as if something around her legs snapped open, and he tipped sideways in one fluid motion. She barely registered the movement before her stomach lurched, her grip slipping as her legs failed to keep her steady. She let out a shocked gasp as she tumbled off his side, the wind whipping around her in a dizzying rush as the ground loomed closer. 

In a flash, Tairn’s colossal head appeared below her, his massive eyes narrowed in exasperation as she snatched her mid-air, pinning her back onto his broad back with a firm push of magic. The landing jolted her, and she groaned, too winded to argue. 

“Still think recovery is overrated?” Tairn huffed, banking into a smooth glide again. 

She glared at him, but her limbs felt like jelly, making it impossible to keep her dignity intact. “You didn’t have to throw me off!!”

“It’s not my fault you cannot keep yourself seated,” He chuffed. “Do you really think you held on all the way from Aretia? I had to keep you anchored with my magic the entire flight.” 

Her mouth fell open. “You… you were holding me in place?”

Tairn snorted, his wings lifting them easily over the final ridge as Basgiath’s towers came into full view. “You were barely conscious for half of the journey. Don’t get cocky now.” 

Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d been so sure she’d managed it all on her own. Flying had been an escape, something she could control. But the truth, Tairn’s truth, was a harsh reminder that she was at the mercy of her own limitations. Fuck venin poison, honestly. 

Her stomach flips as he drops into the flight field. 

“I am dropping Andarna off in the flight field with Astrape and then return and circle nearby.” 

“You need rest.” 

“There will be no rest if they decide to execute the nine of you on the dais.” The worry in his voice clogs her throat. “Call out if you even suspect it will not go your way.” 

“It will,” She assures him. “Do me a favor and tell Sgaeyl that I need to talk to Xaden on the way.” 

“Please hold on tight when we land,” Tairn snorts. “I don’t want you to go tumbling off.” 

And that’s exactly what she did as Tairn splayed his wings to slow the descent, sending her tumbling down and over his shoulder to the ground. He laughs as she lands flat on her ass on the soft grass. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “Love you, too.” 

Tairn whips his head to the right, where Sgaeyl lands with brutal efficiency, her rider dismounting in a much more efficient and graceful manner. “The wingleader approaches.” 

Xaden gives Tairn a wide berth to launch as he walks towards Genevieve, with Sgaeyl taking off next, followed by the rest of the riot until it’s just them left. 

Lifting her goggles to the top of her head and unzipping her jacket, she groaned. July in Basgiath was muggy as hell, even when you aren’t locked away in a humid dungeon. 

“You actually told Tairn to tell Sgaeyl that you wanted to talk to me?” He put a hand on his hip. 

“We both suck at communication. Don’t act like you would be any better.”

“You remember that you can…” He taps the side of his head and walks backwards in front of her. She rolls her eyes and secures a dagger on her thigh instead of paying attention to the singular curl that rests on his forehead and how not even a week ago she wouldn’t have hesitated to brush it to the side. 

“Talking that way feels a little too…” Fuck, why is this so hard? Xaden is Xaden, not some stranger, so why does it feel as if the person standing in front of her is someone completely new and random. How has every inch of her trust been unwoven and destroyed and put her back on square one as the girl who believed no one. “Intimate.” 

“And we’re not intimate?” He lifts a brow. “Because I can think of more than one occasion that you’ve been wrapped—”

She jolts forward and covers his mouth with her hand “We’re not intimate anymore, Xaden.” But the feeling of her palm pressed against his skin is enough of a reminder that whatever they had—maybe they were dating, maybe they weren’t, she never really knew—was physically perfect. Better than perfect. Addictive and electric. Her entire body warms as he kisses the sensitive skin of her palm, and she immediately drops her hand. “We’re walking into what’s certainly going to be a trial, if not an execution, and you’ve got jokes.” 

“Trust me—not joking.” He turns as they reach the steps, and heads down first, glancing back over his shoulder at her. Everytime he says trust me, she wants to strangle him. “Surprised that you’re not icing me out, but definitely no jokes.” 

“I’m angry at you for keeping information from me. Pulling a Violet and ignoring you instead of confronting whatever happened doesn’t solve that.” 

“Good point. What did you want to talk about?” 

“I have a question I’ve been thinking about since Aretia.” 

“And you’re only now telling me?” He reaches the bottom of the steps and shoots an incredulous look at her. “Communication is not your strength, is it? Don’t worry. We’ll work on it along with your and Violet’s shielding.” 

“Are you being serious? Do you hear yourself?” That is so ironic coming from him.

Xaden pauses at the bottom of the steps, and the barest hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, actually. Dead serious. I just have a feeling that if I don’t push you a little, you’re going to retreat back into yourself until you snap and you’re never actually going to say what’s on your mind.” 

She scowls, trying to ignore the way his smile is both infuriating and—unfortunately—disarmingly familiar. “Fine. Since you're so eager for honesty… What are those one hundred and eight scars on your back for? And why didn’t you tell me about the venin the entirety of the past year? Or why did you hide the fact that a rebellion my sister raised from its ashes was actively occurring?”

Xaden’s smirk vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze shifting away, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “Because I didn’t know how you’d react. And, yeah, maybe I was afraid you’d completely reject me the second you knew the truth. I didn’t want you to feel like you were being forced into a war you didn’t even know existed.” 

“You’re such a guy, you know that? It’s such a guy thing to ignore every question except for the last one.” She huffed. “I guess I have to ask one at a time. What are the one hundred and eight scars for?”

Xaden’s jaw tenses as he meets her gaze, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his eyes. He looks away, as if stealing himself, then back at her. “Those scars… Each one represents one of the kids of the rebellion. Each life I agreed to take responsibility for. One scar for each of us forced into the Quadrant—one hundred and eight lives that would’ve ended in execution if we weren’t allowed to fight for our freedom.” He forces her gaze to meet his once more, and her eyes feel as if they’re watching his soul. “It was one hundred and seven until I found out that there was a girl trapped in a cell underneath Basgiath being tortured for answers on my behalf. I just didn’t know that girl was you until you told me.” 

Genevieve stares at him, absorbing this revelation, and all her old assumptions feel flimsy, hollow. She wants to say something, but the words stick in her throat. He’s never shown her this part of himself, not fully, atleast. The realization crashes down on her that he’s the most selfless person she knows.

“So… when you found out about me, without ever even knowing me,” she says, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice, “you saved me?”

He nods, and for the first time, she feels as though she might suffocate from all the pressure from what he’s done for her. 

“And I called you a selfish bastard,” she swallows. “Twice.” 

“You did.” He nods. “And I was. I really was, Genevieve. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I didn’t realize how keeping you in the dark so I could live in a selfish fantasy where you loved me for who you thought you knew I was was really just hurting you. I was scared. The rebellion, the venin… it was all too much. I didn’t want to pull you into my mess, and I certainly didn’t want to see you hurt because of me.” 

Her chest tightened at the weight of his words. It was one thing to hear him speak of sacrifice, but this was not just sacrifice. She wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but the distance between them still felt like a gaping chasm waiting to swallow her whole. “You know you could’ve trusted me.” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would’ve done anything to help. I still want to help.” 

“And do you trust me? Now, after everything?” 

“Do you want the uncomplicated answer?” 

Xaden glanced up at the tall doors that lead to the tunnel into Basgiath before he looks back at Genevieve. “Given our limited time alone, that’s probably preferable.” 

“Then yes, with my life. After all, it’s your life, too.” She knows that the rest depends on how open he is from here on out, but now probably isn’t the time for a ‘are we dating or do I hate you’ talk. 

There’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he nods, and then looks back to the other seven, who are quickly catching up. “I’ll make sure Aetos keeps his hands to himself and off of you and Violet, but you might have to play it along.” 

“Give me a shot at handling it first, and then you can do whatever it is you think will work.” Violet says and Genevieve nods, before the bells of Basgiath ring, announcing the hour. They have fifteen minutes until formation will be called for graduation. 

Xaden’s shoulders straighten. “Everyone clear on what’s about to happen?” 

This isn’t the man who begged her forgiveness for keeping secrets, and it sure as hell isn’t the one who vowed to earn back her trust in Aretia. No, this is Xaden the wingleader who slaughtered every attacker in her bedroom without blinking and never lost a wink of sleep over it. 

“We’re ready,” Garrick says, rolling his neck like he needs to warm up before combat. 

“Ready.” Masen nods, adjusting the glasses on his nose. And one by one, everyone agrees to ride into hell once more. 

“Let’s do it.” Genevieve lifts her chin. 

Xaden stares at her long and hard, and then nods. 

Her stomach twists as they enter the tunnel, mage lights flickering on as they pass. The other door is already open when they make their way through and she doesn’t argue when Xaden plasters himself to her side. There’s every chance they’ll be arrested as soon as their feet touch the quadrant, or worse, killed, depending on what everyone else knows. 

Power simmers underneath Genevieve’s skin, thrumming to life but not quite surfacing, ready if she needs it, but no one appears as they cross into the rock-filled courtyard. They have minutes before the space fills with riders and cadre. 

The first riders they encounter walk out of the dormitory and into the courtyard with cocky swaggers and Second Wing patches on their uniforms. 

“Look who’s finally here? Bet you thought you had the games locked down, didn’t you, Fourth Wing?” a rider with dyed forest green hair says with a smirk. “But you didn’t! Second Wing took it all  when you didn’t show.” 

Genevieve rolls her eyes and Xaden doesn’t bother looking in their direction as they pass. Garrick lifts his middle finger from Genevieve’s left. 

“Guess this means no one knows what really happened,” Imogen whispers. 

“Then we have a shot of this working,” Eya replies, and the sunlight glints in the piercing in her eyebrows. 

“Of course no one fucking knows,” Xaden mutters. He looks up to the top of the academic building, and Genevieve’s eyes follow his line of sight, her heart jumping at the image of the fire blazing at the top of the farthest turret. No doubt waiting for offerings to Malek—belongings of the cadets who didn’t make it through War Games. Her belongings if this all fails. “They’re not going to out themselves over us.” 

At the entrance to the dorms, the group shares a look and then breaks apart wordlessly according to plan. Xaden trails behind Genevieve and Violet as they follow down the corridor and into the little hallway they’ve called home for the last nine months, but neither of them go into their own rooms. 

Violet glances left and right to be sure no one sees them, before she pushes open the door to Liam’s room. She slips in, triggering the mage light overhead. 

Genevieve can’t even bear to look in at the room, let alone enter. She knows Violet is barely holding back tears as she looks at the bed where she once slept securely in the arms of her lover not even a week ago. She knows Violet is taking in each and every one of those moments that she ripped away from her when she chose Violet over Liam. 

I will not cry today. 

But it’s a lot. Everything is exactly the same as it was when they left. Violet has the stack of letters in her arms and a few unfinished figurines tucked into her pockets as she emerges, and Genevieve knows that she will regret not going into the room one last time for the rest of her life, but she can’t. 

Her feet are glued to the floor until Violet opens her mouth. “I got them,” She whispers, her eyes red. 

“Let’s go.” Violet walks right in front of them, emerging from the darkness as Rhiannon walks out of her room with Ridoc in tow. 

Oh shit. 

“Vi!” Rhiannon’s mouth drips open and she lunges, grabbing onto Violet and pulling her into a hug. “You’re here!” She squeezes tight, and Violet relaxes into her arms. 

Genevieve feels alone for the half a second she watches before Ridoc crashes into her with his arms prepared to wrap tightly around her. 

Genevieve’s heart swells as she is enveloped in the warmth of Ridoc’s embrace. His familiar presence wraps around her like a cocoon, making her feel at home in the midst of the chaos. The weight of his relief and affection momentarily dulls the pang of loneliness gnawing at her. She sinks into the hug, breathing in the scents of sweat and leather, a comfort she never knew she craved until now. 

“Look who’s back from the dead,” Ridoc chuckles, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “You had us worried there for a bit, you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” her voice is slightly muted by his embrace, until he pushes her back, his eyes scanning her for injuries the same way Rhiannon scans Violet’s for injuries. 

“With what everyone was saying, I thought you were dead.” Her gaze flits to Genevieve. “I thought the three of you were.” 

“There was also the rumor that you got lost,” Ridoc adds. “But considering who you were with, we were all betting on the dead theory. I’m glad we were wrong.” 

“I promise I’ll explain later, but I need a favor now,” Violet whispers, her throat closing as her gaze drops. 

“Sorrengail,” Xaden’s tone drops. 

“We can trust her,” Genevieve snaps, promising as she looks back at him. “We can trust both of them.” 

Xaden looks anything but pleased, but he nods. Guess they really were home. 

“What do you need?” Rhiannon asks, concern furrowing her brow. 

Violet steps back, and then pushes the letters and figurines into her hands. “I need you to keep these for me. Hide them. Don’t let anyone… burn them.” her voice breaks. 

She glances down at the letters, and her eyes widen before her shoulders curve inward and her face crumples. 

“What are tho—” Ridoc starts, looking over Genevieve to the letters and then falling silent. “Shit.” 

“No,” Rhiannon whispers, and Genevieve knows this isn’t her denying the favor. “Not Liam. No. Genevieve didn’t—” She cuts herself off, her gaze momentarily falling onto Genevieve before she slowly meets Violet's eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

Violet’s eyes burn, but she manages to nod, clearing her throat. “Promise you won’t let them have these when they come for his things if I’m not–” She can’t finish. 

Rhiannon nods, before turning to Genevieve. “Are you alright? Your hair—” 

Genevieve shakes her head. She’s not lying. Not really, at least. The poison isn’t there anymore, just the after-effects that still plague her. “I’m fine, really.” 

“We have to go,” Xaden says. 

“I’ll see you guys at graduation,” Violet gives them a watery smile and takes a step back. The three of them walk again, turning the corner into the crowded main corridor of the first-year dorms. 

“How do you do it?” Genevieve whispers at Xaden as she watches Violet walk a step in front of them. 

“Do what?” his arms hand loose at his sides as he continuously scans the people around them, and he puts his hand on her lower back like he’s worried they might get separated. They’re in the thick of the rush, and for every person too busy to notice the three of them, there’s another who does a double take when they cross paths. And every marked one they see gives Xaden a subtle nod, and Genevieve knows they’ve been warned by the others. 

“Lie to the people you care about?” 

Their gazes collide and they pass one of the busts of the First Six, following the flow of the crowd past the wide spiral staircase that connects the higher years’ dorms. 

Xaden’s jaw clenches. “Gen–”

She lifts her hand to cut him off. “It’s not an insult. I need to know how to do it. I don’t lie to people I care about.” 

They break away from the crush of cadets headed out the door to the courtyard, and Xaden strides purposefully for the rotunda, yanking the door open and ushering the two girls through. He places a hand on Genevieve once more, but she shifts away from him. 

“Stay here,” he mutters to Violet, who just nods with her arms crossed. 

He grabs Genevieve and tugs her behind the first pillar they come across. The red dragon hides them from anyone who may pass through the space that connects all wings of the quadrant. Sure enough, voices and footsteps pass, but no one sees them behind the massive pillar, and no one sees Violet in the shadows covering her. 

“For the record, I also don’t lie to the people I care about,” Xaden lowers his voice as he faces her, the intensity in his eyes pinning her back to the marble pillar. He leans in, and he’s all she can see. “And I sure as hell have never lied to you. But the art of telling selective truths is something you’re going to have to master or we’ll all be dead. I know you trust Rhiannon and Ridoc, but you can’t tell them the truth, as much for their sakes as for ours. Knowing puts them into danger. You have to keep the truth compartmentalized. If you can’t lie to your friends, you keep your distance. Understand?” 

She tenses. Of course she knows that, but hearing it said so blatantly drives the knife deeper into her chest. “Does Violet know all of this too?” 

“Liam had her master this art last year when he spilled everything to her by accident.” 

“I understand,” she says after a sharp exhale. 

“I never wanted to put you into this position. Not with your friends and especially not with the General. That was one of the many reasons I never told you.” 

“How long did you know about my mother?” It’s definitely not the right time to ask this, but Geneveive will not die without answers. She needs to know. 

He exhales slowly. “I knew about it the minute she ran away from you.” 

Her lips part, and something heavy shifts, easing a weight that settled in her chest that’s been there since Resson. But another weight slams into Genevieve’s chest. Xaden’s known her mother longer than he’s known her. 

“What?” 

“You didn’t dodge the question.” She has to admit it, she’s a little surprised. 

“I promised you some answers,” He leans forward. “But I can’t promise you’ll always like what you hear.” 

“You owe me all the answers, if you ever want me back,” she huffs. “And I’ll always prefer the truth.” 

“You say that now,” A wry smile twists his lips. 

Her eyes narrow. “I always will.” The sound of boots shuffling behind them as students report to formation reminds her that they’re not entirely alone, but she needs Xaden to hear her. “If the last few weeks have shown you anything, it should be that I run from nothing, no matter how hard it is or what it costs.” 

“Yeah, well, it cost me you.” Her whole body tenses and his eyes slam shut. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” He opens his eyes again, shaking his head, and the abject misery makes her head pound. “I know it was the not telling you. I get it. But when the lives of everyone around you—when your life—depends on how well you can lie, it’s not easy to realize it’s the truth that will save you.” A sigh moves his shoulders. “If I could do it all again, I’d tell you. I’d do it differently, I promise, but I can’t, so here we are.” 

“So here we are.” But where even is here? This isn’t home anymore. “But as long as you meant what you said about telling me everything—”

He flinches, and her head throbs again. 

“Oh hell no, Xaden, I swear on the gods, look me in the eye and tell me that you are going to tell me everything once I can properly shield.” Genevieve wants to kill him. She wants nothing more than to strangle him. “That’s what you promised in your bedroom, anything you want to know and everything you don’t. Those were your words. And I’m not joking when I say I will kill you if you can’t swear that that is what I will get.” 

“Everything about me.” 

She shakes her head. “I will not be playing these stupid games with two people.” 

He takes a step toward her, but she lifts her chin and her eyes narrow, daring him to touch her right now. And he’s a smart man for keeping his feet planted on the ground. 

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, I will answer any question you want to ask about me. Gods, I want you to ask, to know me well enough to trust me even when I can’t tell you everything.” He nods like those words had been included in the original promise when they both know damn well they weren’t. “Because you didn’t fall for an ordinary rider. You fell for the leader of a revolution, and to some degree, I’m always going to have secrets.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

For her entire life she was kept in the dark by people who thought that was best to her. Her father hid her away from the revolution and then he died, leaving her to scramble in his ashes. Her sister left and re-started her father’s rebellion and never uttered a single word in any of the letters she wrote, and Genevieve knows logically that those letters were being stopped and read, but the pain of being kept blind by those she trusts still stings. Her mother left, and didn’t look back for five years. She will not be hidden any longer. 

“I’m not kidding.” There’s zero apology in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t let you in like I promised. I’m an open book when it comes to—”

“If you’re still just going to lie to me I’d prefer you to just shut your mouth. You’ll be an open book when it comes to whatever you want.” She shakes her head. “And that’s not going to work for me. Not this time and not ever. I can’t trust you without full disclosure.”

He blinks, and for a moment she knows she’s managed to stun him. 

“I need all the details. Everything.” She demands, staring straight down into his eyes. “I reluctantly forgave you for keeping me in the dark before today. You did it to protect my own life, whether or not that being what I wanted regardless. But it’s complete and total honesty from this minute onwards, or…”

Fuck, am I really going to say this?

“Or what?” His eyes sharpen. 

“Or I’ll go back to what I was before I trusted any of you,” She took a deep breath. “A weapon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey everyone! Fun little chapter, right? Something weird is going on with Genevieve… I wonder if anyone has picked up on it? And— if you have, what’s your theory? I would love to know what you are thinking! Also, I posted on Thursday a Liam Mairi x Reader, so if you haven’t gone to my Tumblr to read that yet, please go and let me know what you thought.

More about me as the creator of Genevieve, I actually struggle with chronic headaches and nausea (a beautiful long-lasting side effect from a medication i was put on four years ago), so writing Gen to struggle with these issues now is really interesting, because I’m just putting my own experience onto paper. I also recently passed out from blood loss (don’t donate blood if you’re anemic and also prone to throw up over anything), so I’m excited to now have some experience with that for future reference!

As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo! That’s it for now! See you all Wednesday.

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[amaryllis-sagitta]

I've always disliked the spirit origin theory and I finally know why

To put it briefly: it's the cornerstone of the Thedosian brand of gnostic pessimism ingrained in the worldbuilding around both Fade spirits and elves, that subtly condemns their existence among the living no matter how hard the writing tries to compensate in the other direction (and to be fair, it hardly ever does).

I have already mentioned in several analyses that the worldbuilding in Dragon Age is trying to impose some objective moral order through the system of virtues embodied by Fade spirits and the speculated position of the Maker, illustrated through the visual allegory of The Gaze. Every place where the Gaze does not fall is identified as the Void - the realm of the Blight, demonic whisperings, evil in mortals' souls, oblivion and erasure.

This moral compass ingrained in Thedosian worldbuilding is outlined in the Canticle of Threnodies. I have always posited that we can read the Canticle's "Maker" as a purely formal locus meant to hook up some form of prisca theologia that would be partially true regardless of whom we put in the Maker's seat.

For example: the Canticle claims that when "The Maker" created the physical world from a portion of the Fade itself, then Their firstborn, Fade spirits, turned away from their perfect resonance with the Maker. They envied what they were not, and for this poisoning of the heavenly "song" with discordant (so, evil) intentions, the Maker castigated them, declared them the first demons, and made humans Their "chosen" race -- presumably, this time building them of both Earth and Spirit so that they would not envy partaking in either.

After multiple hints left in DAI Trespasser, that sparked speculation about the spirit origin theory as the dominating fan theory years ago, DATV confirmed that the "firstborn elvhen" were Fade spirits that manifested physically. They used lyrium, the blood of the Earth's Titans, to build themselves physical bodies. The Stone retaliated, and the first elvhen waged a war with it, eventually devising a way to sunder the spirit essence/ dreams from all Titans. It is heavily implied that this choice to carry out their existence on Earth as war and conquest has twisted whatever the "virtuous" spiritual nature was left in the Evanuris, and that after the end of that war, Elgar'nan simply could not stop.

Why would they do it though? While some concept art from the artbook shows spirits observing primordial dwarves dwarfing, in the end, the Regret mural that shows Mythal inviting Solas into the world explicitly tells us he had no desire to live "as HUMANS" (and the story fails to bridge that lore drop with the known lore about humans allegedly arriving to Thedas from across the seas, and only being able to thrive after the Veil).

So, despite disproving the story about the Chantry's Maker creating the Veil, the writing confirms the Chant's initial overtly anthropocentric orientation. Humans were always special and spirits were always meant to backup and store their ethically charged concepts. But the important accomplishment here is that spirits/ elvhen are doomed with an inherent moral error that snowballs into inevitable strife, destruction and error!

But wait, there's more! Because now that we have the anthropocentrism as our implied position towards the Thedosian races, the history of the elvhen race looks even more like some bizzare form of "karmic" reckoning that completely misses the point of a reckoning, to replace it with unwarranted generational punishment. First, as a result of the Great Betrayal, the elvhen are sundered from their connection to the spirit essence, and thus subjected to the Quickening, which I guess is supposed to be a way of the world giving the elvhen a taste of their own medicine and saying "Be careful what you wish for". Then, once they are finally effectively like humans in every metaphysical respect (unbeknownst to everyone except the remaining ancient elvhen), the moral corruption of the Evanuris gets passed on as the Tevinters learn to glorify blood sacrifice at the behest of their Old Gods (who are really Evanuris speaking through their Archdemons, at any capacity they still have left). This gets used to further humiliate the remainders of ancient Arlathan. What happened to the elvhen now gives Solas reason to hate the mortal physical existence of elves twofold.

The fact that elves keep being punished by the narrative is a direct result of BioWare implementing the spirit origin theory the way they did, because it was devised as a scenario of original sin that necessitates conflict and moral downfall, and ends up snowballing into dooming elves through and through.

But more than that, as I have mentioned in another post, on the metaphysical level, "pure" spirits should be occupied solely with their respective defining abstracts. Spirits should know no desire. Desire is the "unquenchable flame" that defines humans. As far as DAO, we would read that the more benevolent spirits prefer to sit back in the Fade and not interfere with the mortals, and the ones with the greatest drive to join the living are predatory demons.

And the reason for all of this is "the Maker" being bored of perfection in the Golden City, and wanting some change. That the world requires change and opposition to let its best aspects shine is not an controversial idea. However, in the Dragon Age worldbuilding, this necessity for change is not introduced under a milder Hermetic assumption that, even after being cast down into a darker realm of the incarnate, one can successfully control their mundane passions and heal their soul from corrupting influences whilst existing physically... Not on the grand scale, at least.

Once spirits decided to enter the physical world, they started acting like they were trapped and forced to fight for their lives (despite them being the trespassers). The vast majority of them got spiritually corrupted (if they didn't represent vices like Tyranny from the get-go), they dragged their hesitant kin down with them through manipulation. The elvhen race fell into tyranny as their "First" were actually the worst, yet people looked up to them for survival. One particularly inventive specimen devised two catastrophic tools -- one, to deflect onto the Titans whatever should have happened to the first elvhen in order to sunder what has been wrongly joined; the other, to sunder the tyrannical Evanuris from the rest of the elvhen and spirits and stop their corrupting influence. Yet, because the world changes, the collateral of one such tool introduced a wholly new type of rampant evil, and the collateral of the other made the whole elvhen race spiral down... even further into their entrapment in physicality!

The way they built up the spirit origin theory, it draws a full circle: first, the Southern Chantry and the Dalish demonize Fade spirits - one for dogmatic reasons, because it sees the marriage of spirit and flesh as something that is evil even in humans, the other because they can't be denied that healthy cackle of metaphysical irony even if they try their hardest. Then, with DAI Solas and Cole, we're acquainted with a more sympathetic understanding of Fade spirits as being that are fundamentally different but operate on a logic that doesn't automatically lead to a shitshow of a moral downfall. But then, we learn that a group of spirits doomed the entire world to millennia of strife because they felt curiosity for the Other and because the choice to cross the great threshold almost automatically made them forget the virtues they supposedly embodied and spiral down into the "lower" survival instincts.

Personally, I believe that spirits & elvhen could be built on a fundamental existential difference in a way that would have made their excursions into each other's realm temporary. I believe that the spirit origin theory, even if upheld, could have been taken in a direction that didn't imply instant rampant and thoughtless collonialism on the elvhen part. I believe that such choices would have enforced worldbuilding that didn't need to condemn the spirits/ elvhen with that weird version the original sin that receives completely unsympathetic treatment as the time goes by.

[kittenfangirl20]

*months went by and on the new moon day of the sixth month of Adam’s pregnancy Adam woke up crying, it hurt so much, Lucifer checked between Adam’s legs and it didn’t look like he was about to give birth, so Adam lay in bed clutching his stomach crying and Lucifer worried about Adam’s safety, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to Adam*

Adam: What’s wrong with me.

Lucifer: I am so sorry, I wish I knew.

*later that day, Lucifer took Adam to their cave, once the new moon was in the sky Adam became a dragon*

Adam: Something is happening to me.

*Lucifer ran to check Adam again and saw that Adam was in the process of laying an egg, Lucifer ran over and caressed Adam’s dragon snout*

Lucifer: You are laying an egg, I think your body had to be in a dragon form to do this since I am pretty sure that the egg is quite big.

*Adam nuzzled Lucifer and started pushing, his claws digging into ground while Lucifer spoke comforting words to him*

Adam: Can you check and see how far along the egg is, I don’t want it to break and harm our baby.

*Lucifer nodded and ran back to where the egg was coming out, he started to help Adam with getting the egg out and Lucifer found himself holding a deep purple egg that an human sized baby could comfortably grow in, Lucifer ran back to show Adam the egg*

Adam: Our baby.

*Adam gently took the egg and held it close to him to keep it warm, a pained looked crossed Adam’s face again*

Adam: Another egg is coming.

*Lucifer ran back and helped Adam lay another egg this one blood red, he showed Adam this egg which he gently took as well, Lucifer went into his dragon form and they cuddled to keep the eggs warm*

@talesfromawannabejournalist

Dragon Adam au

Extermination day was harsh it had been a defeating blow to all exorcists. For even if they managed to kill a handful of the filth in battle they had still lost over half of their sisters, and one leader of the exorcists.

Adam's death had been the main tragedy among all the casualties. Especially for Lute, and Sera and Emily when she told them. They mourned up in Heaven for their lost son, brother, and friend.

What they didn't know then was that Adam and the fallen exorcists' souls had not been completely lost.

--

Adam couldn't remember feeling this bad before in his entire afterlife. His life on Earth was full of pain and suffering, but up in Heaven the only pain he had ever known was emotional. This last extermination day really put him through the ringer. He tried recalling what happened, but it was all a blur. It didn't matter however, in spite of the pain coursing through his entire being he attempted at sitting up. He needed to get back home.

However, as he got up, he for some reason felt taller. Opening his eyes, blinking away the blurry vision, he looked down at his feet, and was met with the sharp black claws on giant scaly feet.

He yelped jumping up and down and trying to get away from his own feet. He ended up shaking the ground along with him. Or what he assumed was ground. He looked around and realized very quickly that he was nowhere near the hotel. In fact, from the looks of it, he appeared to be in some kind of cave. He heard a dripping sound and dashed towards it. If it there was enough water, there would be enough of a reflective surface for him to understand what was wrong with his body. He found a small puddle of water that while didn't show his whole body it did show him his face. A monster was staring right back at him.

A world-shattering roar was heard all throughout the land and echoed in all seven rings.

(Remember that ask about Adam respawning as a dragon and his girls as harpies after he died? Well, this is it)

(Yes, I am excited about this one)

*Adam felt tears fall from his eyes, he knew he wasn’t much to look at lately, but now he was a monster, he couldn’t go back to Heaven like this, he covered his body with his wings as he trembled, but he heard something or someone approach him, he looked over and saw a bunch of bird like women approach him to comfort him, his eyes widened when he started to recognize traits from his girls that were cut down in battle, they had become monsters as well*

Adam: What happened?

*at least he still had his voice, but when one of his girls tried to speak only a bird like screech came from her beak, Adam gently caressed her face with his claw*

Adam: This happened because the Sinners fought back, they turned us into monsters. They must suffer.

*the now bird like women let out happy screeches with Adam’s roar joining them, a week later all of Pentagram City was thrown into mass chaos, Cannibal Town burned to the ground, all there were killed except for their leader Rosie, all the citizens saw was an army of harpies lead by a dragon, the harpies started tearing apart anyone who got in their way as the dragon started to set everything on fire, Lucifer looked at the ruins confused*

Lucifer: Do you know why something this would happen?

Rosie: No, they were like a family to me and now they are all dead.

*Lucifer didn’t understand why a dragon with a bunch of harpies would want to attack just Cannibal Town and just leave, he looked at the image of the dragon, it was a large black dragon with glowing gold orbs for eyes, he didn’t know why, but there was something familiar about the dragon*

@talesfromawannabejournalist

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

cang qiong dragon god shen yuan is probably like so old that time doesn’t have meaning? like he transmigrated into pidw as a dragon and and the system gave him a few missions that functionally amounted to ‘claim this mountain range as your territory and defend it from demons’

sy didn’t realize that he was actually laying the foundation for cang qiong mountain sect before its creation. some terrifying demon demigod (one of the first heavenly demons, maybe?) pursues a band of cultivators to his mountain range, and he protects them. they settle his mountains and start cultivating, and because they’re protected by a literal god (who they call lord canglong, and they name the mountains after him) people want to study there.

so cqms is born, and sy takes a nap. when he wakes up, those cultivators he saved bring another group of cultivators, all named 'wen' to his mountain, and they ask his permission to lead the peaks next. another nap, and he wakes up to the wen generation asking his blessing for the ming generation, so on and so forth up until the qing generation. this time he recognizes names: qingge, qingfang, qingqi. this generation's leader, qingyuan. and the one whose bow is shallow and perfunctory, qingqiu. ofc sy isn't super pressed about standing on ceremony or whatever—he's only experienced like six years in this world, and most of them were spent either establishing the mountain as his territory or helping his little cultivators fight off some world-ending cataclysm or other. but he remembers the scum villain’s name, and he’s not a huge fan of the way sqq’s already proving himself to be an arrogant old shit

just like every other time, after he’s met and blessed this generation of peak lords, shen yuan falls asleep. shit!!! he meant to stay awake this time, but the system putting him to sleep is just too powerful! he’s probably missed luo binghe, damnit!!! what’s the point of transmigrating into this shitty novel if he doesn’t even get to meet the only character worth the pixels it took to type him into existence??

but as soon as he sees that fluffy-haired boy curled up in one of his caves, bruised and weeping and wondering what he’s done to be so universally hated, shen yuan knows. that’s his protagonist, and he’s really too pathetic like this. he’s really just a child. and shen yuan might have been easily annoyed by the concept of kids in his first life, but this isn’t just some whiny kid. this is the protagonist. so he does his best to calm tiny lord luo down.

and at first when lbh realizes it’s the fucking dragon god canglong speaking to him, the poor kid falls on his face kowtowing and apologizing for the intrusion, but lord canglong just…asks him what’s wrong. and then listens. and then he allows binghe to…to touch his hand???? not only that, he pats binghe’s head?? and tells him it isn’t his fault??? that one little head-pat is filled with so much spiritual power that binghe almost passes out, and soon after he recovers, lord canglong sends him back down the mountain with a renewed sense of purpose. lord canglong said binghe wasn’t stupid, wasn’t incompetent, wasn’t a failure, and binghe was determined to prove himself worthy of the sect’s guardian deity’s kindness.

and when luo binghe turns to walk down the mountain back to qing jing peak, that google translate voice pipes up in shen yuan’s ear with an update he hadn’t realized he was waiting for.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! USER_002 has completed the quest {From the Ground Up}! B-points +500 USER_002 has initiated the quest {Master of Masters}! New skill [Shapeshifter] has been unlocked! Would USER_002 like to activate [Shapeshifter] now?]

shen yuan slammed the bright glowing [YES] faster than any quest the system had ever given him. that’s how he learned that he was, in fact, just naked in front of luo binghe, and the [Shapeshifter] skill didn’t come with an auto-clothed setting. thank fuck he’d already sent the protagonist away!

[bleekay]

doodles from today cause i had a thought: water tribe dragon-blood boy who despite every attempt could not hide his true nature, and fire nation dragon-blood boy who despite every attempt could never take full dragon form

sokka maims himself in an attempt to look more human, breaking off his own horns, cutting his ears, picking at his scales, but everyone sees what he really is. the dragons were responsible for so much death and destruction and he hates being their kind, and so he runs. meanwhile, being able to embrace the dragon in him is all zuko ever wanted, his royal bloodline expecting it of him, but he fails and he fails and is humiliated, tortured, and cast out for his weakness.

on the shores they meet.

or something! :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sorry for not having a Year of the Dragon MDZS artwork; Unfortunately, I can only picture Dragon LWJ in this particular flavour.

[rafent]

"Nonsense. Do not speak of such efforts lightly. It was by the doing of your lead that I was kept apart from all those I threatened to harm." Rafal's attentive gaze took in the sight of Matthias' exhaustion, a new edge to its appraisal, so possessed of analysis that it didn't waver an inch. Up until the moment that he closed his eyes at least. His mouth curled with a smirk, soundly concluded.

"You led me here for that very reason, did you not?"

Luckily for Matthias, a worthy reason it was at that. For respectable cause alone, he would spare the human before him of aptly dealt punishment. Priceless and sacred his dragonstone was, immense though the crime of pilfering it, the lives continuing onward with neither scratch nor severance were host to equal value. It was not only they who should be thankful to Matthias, but Rafal who was given no further opportunity to sully his hands. How close he had come to another mountain piled atop the tall massif of his sins.

The sobering thought gave rise to his stand. Brushing off his knees, he gave no indication that he'd heard the other at first, his request answered merely - and succinctly - by the sum of more concrete action. As was Rafal's way.

Faceted gem glowed to activation. White to black, from the slight figure of a young pale-haired man emerged the towering serpentine form of his birthright. With a stretch of his neck and leathery magenta wings, the obsidian dragon chuffed with disdain. Humorously equivalent to a human snort by squinted measure.

"You insult me. It is not I who is in need of rest but you. Now clamber on with those little legs and let us be off. Unless you'd prefer the long and scenic walk back?" At least humans and dragons chuckled the same. "Heh. That too can be arranged."

✦ 𝐙𝐎𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✧

Mission Board: Anniversary, faith +1