#might just make him a bird idk

[spookky-aint-spooky]

Q U E S T I O N

Since we know Goetia are based on more animals than just birds, and are usually chimeras, what animal(s) would Ford be?

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

[veunho]

I love love love drawing but I cannot draw poses in any circumstances

[brynn-lear]

Fellas

[nervocat]

I feel like it might be silly to care sm that whenever I'm gone and my mom has to do my chores, she doesn't feed or water my bird bc he tries to bite everyone but me

[todayisafridaynight]

fathers day is this month how am i going to inflict psychic damage on myself

[babisawyer]

very brave of the yellowjackets writers to be like 'hey, what if eating your friend was a bad thing?'

[possibly-eli]

you will all rue this day. the day of Stupid Kobold Wizard

[ajdrawshq]

for the pmd octopath au i Could have just made each character have color palettes that fit their canon selves and called it good like a normal person (something that most ppl do for pmd aus) but No. instead. i need to make them variants and hybrids to justify every part of them i change

[moonstruckme]

vampire!james is such a fun concept!

what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him

like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?

because blood sharing is intimate :P

Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)

vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words

James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 

He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.

“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”

“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 

James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 

“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 

It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 

You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 

“Can we do that?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 

It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 

James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 

You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 

“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 

Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 

“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 

James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 

It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 

One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 

He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 

He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 

One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 

“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 

Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 

He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 

You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 

“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 

There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 

“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 

“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Dove,” a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.

You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.

Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.

Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.

“The one who heals the ill and poor,” Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. “The one who has the 141 in knots. That’s you, isn’t it, dove?”

You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasn’t there physically, hell, you weren’t sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.

The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“Oh, this will be fun,” he cooed. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Stood frozen in place, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with — like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.

“What are ye doin’ down there, dove?” a voice called. “Looks like ye seen a ghost.”

The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crow’s nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.

“I am fine,” you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. “What are you doing up there?”

“She’s a crow’s nest for a reason. I’m watchin’ for the storm, seein’ if I can spot anythin’ out of the ordinary like I’m a bird, birdie” Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. “What are ye doin’ down there?”

You frowned at him, unamused. “I plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,” you replied. “I’m just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.”

Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. “If I have any more knowledge up in this noggin’ of mine, it might explode.” He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.

“I do not believe there is much in there at all,” you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t deny the way Soap put you at ease.

“Ach, yer a bird that bites. What happened to bein’ a sweet bird?” he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.

Your smile grew and you shook your head. “Where is Ghost?” you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.

“That lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weather’s makin’ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goin’ back, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.

It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.

You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didn’t have.

“I see,” you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. “I am… happy that he has someone like you.”

Soap’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. “Ah, c’mon, dove. Ye got us, too.”

Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.

You weren’t sure what you desired, anyway.

“Right,” you agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll be going now. Please, do not fall while I’m gone — or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.”

Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. “Mean li’l bird,” he teased.

With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.

Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadn’t quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.

“Hello, Gaz,” you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soap’s clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.

“Dove,” Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.

The resources you’d been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited for—yet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.

You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejection—it was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.

Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.

What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?

“Is someone hurt?”

You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. “No. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.”

So much for avoiding him.

“Is that so?” he asked. You weren’t sure why his tone seemed so… off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.

You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.

Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.

You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.

When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.

Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.

“Are you avoidin’ me?” he asked lowly.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldn’t take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else he’d know.

“No,” you stammered, frowning. “I am just— Price is waiting for me.”

Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your fault—you had never shared one.

“There is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,” he commented.

“I am looking at you right now,” you defended weakly.

“What you’re doin’ is actin’ different,” he said slyly, mirroring your frown. “What, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?”

“That—” You inhaled sharply. “That is not what is happening.”

“So, I have read them right, then.”

“I do not know what signs you are referring to.”

“Don’t be daft, dove.”

Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.

“It is improper to refer to a woman as daft,” you hissed in defense.

“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.

This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.

“You have never been kissed before?” he continued.

Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.

“That is inappropriate, Gaz,” you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. “I must return to Price. I—I cannot have this conversation.”

“You will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,” he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. “Do not make me the one to suffer.”

You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.

The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.

The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.

You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.

You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.

“I will not avoid you,” you muttered quietly. “I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.”

You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.

The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Price’s quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.

The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasn’t a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.

When you looked up at the crow’s nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.

“You took quite some time,” Price noted as you stepped inside. “Did you walk the plank along your way?”

You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. “I ran into Soap,” you explained.

“I see.” Price smiled in acknowledgment. “Alright, dove. Let’s begin, hm?”

“You are not very good at this.”

You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you weren’t looking.

“That’s why you’re the expert, dove,” he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. “I do not see how this will become a paste.”

“Did you mix in the drops of water like I told you?” you asked.

He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.

“Was I correct?” you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.

“Silence,” he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. “I pray this medicine proves to be useful.”

“It is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,” you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. “I am sure it will come in handy.”

Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snort—a Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.

“It is not bad,” you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. “Much better after the water.”

He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gaz’s room was feeling crowded.

“I am only teasing,” you said with a smile. “It’s almost as good as mine.”

Price snorted, smiling back. “Aye, I’m a Captain, not a medic. That’s your specialty,” he retorted.

“And will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?”

He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. “Are the boys not fun to room with?”

Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. “No, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not… suitable.”

Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.

“That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roomin’ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,” he replied thoughtfully.

“You forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,” you reminded him.

Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.

“Would you prefer to stay here, then?” he asked. “You may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.”

You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.

Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.

“You would not mind?” you asked wearily.

Price shrugged. “I may prefer it, actually.”

Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. He’d prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?

You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.

“You’d prefer it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why?”

The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.

The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.

You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadn’t noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.

“The storm’s brewin’ real fast, Cap,” Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He must’ve climbed down the nest in a haste. “We need to get her steady. It’s comin’ down faster than we thought.”

The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. “Go collect Gaz and Ghost,” he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. “Dove, you’re stayin’ here.”

“I must be of help—”

“Here,” he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. “That’s an order.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.

Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envy—it was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.

You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.

“Dove.”

The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.

You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.

You couldn’t sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.

The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.

Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.

Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.

The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.

“Isn’t this fun, dove?” Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.

You knew he was near. Before, you couldn’t feel his presence—now, it felt stronger than ever.

You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldn’t be able to see him from below.

Your eyes landed on the crow’s nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.

Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.

“Dove?” Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. “Dove! What are ye doin’?”

You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldn’t chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.

“What the hell is she doin’ out?” Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.

The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.

The pirate’s voices grew farther away as you approached the crow’s nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.

You needed to know if your thoughts were true—if Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.

You stood on the crow’s nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any sign—and there it was.

A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldn’t see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.

Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.

[hibiscusseaart]

So about Time Travel Tobirama

He gets back in his childhood, the period when Kawarama was already dead, but Itama still alive, just cuz I like Itama alive and well, ok. (also i love the idea of Itama the weed shinobi by @oh-no-its-bird so)

And he starts to think and strategise smth like "Ok, I need to kill Black Zetsu, but idk where he is. But he should be around Uchihas, so I must come closer. But I cant just go there, we're not in peace, they'd kill me. And I don't exactly know when Black Zetsu is gonna try to manipulate Madara. So I also have to monitor Madara and make sure Izuna doesn't ever dies, to ensure that Madara won't lose his shit".

So, he's really logical and his conclusion was "So the easiest way to monitor the Uchiha clan is to marry an Uchiha." But he can't just marry a random Uchiha, it'd be shitty for politics he is the clan heir after Hashirama after all + it'd be nice way to strengthen peace via marriage. Plus he needs to keep close eye to Madara. So. Marrying Madara it is. Or Izuna. But first of all, Izuna is annoying and second he still needs very carefully look for potential signs of Black Zetsu corruption and it's better to do that when they're in close quarters. So the best case scenario is Madara's hand in marriage.

Killing Madara might be easier, but Hashirama would be sad. Plus I think the ppl who helped him to be sent in the past (coughnaruto who said that) told him smth about that Madara and Hashirama are Indra and Ashura reincarnations and be like "What if daddy Sage gets angry..."

So yeah no killing Madara. Even though he kinda wants to.

And to be clear, he had this plan in the few days he's back in his baby body. He's like 10-12 or whatever, when Hashi starts running to the river to meet Madara. Oh and Itama is safe and sound cuz Tobi said fuck Butsuma and went to safe his baby brother.

So one day Tobirama follows his brother to the river to actually meet Madara before his father decides to fuck everything.

So, Tobirama's the most fucked up honeypot mission officially begun. Tobirama is gonna be like "Ok i need to impress a 12 yo... But I cant just show him a cool jutsu, he might think about me as a rival or whatever... Kids like praise and cool things... Maybe I can tell him that he's cute and find him a cool stick? Should I ask Anija to make a cool stick?"

He meets Madara (without a stick, Hashirama might've suspect smth) and be like "Wow, Anija who would've known you've made such a cute friend" (Tobirama is hard cringing in his head, he's not the best in honeypot missions) and Madara, being about 12 year old, is standing there covered in mud, cuz Hashirama threw him into river or whatever + the little hc that he's kinda ugly when he's in his teens. Like Madara thinks of himself as strong and cool, but not particularly handsome with his wild hair and eye bags.

So Madara is smitten cuz wow pretty boy with red eyes said that He's cute!!!

Tobirama looks at Madara's dopey smile and thinks of the first phase as a success. Now Tobirama starts to spend some time with Hashirama and Madara to monitor their surroundings from their clans, while Itama distracts their father, and also try to win over Madara when he is still an impressionable kid. Plus he starts hinting that they may be Senju and Uchiha and that they should be prepared. But well they're kids who wants to escape all that war and just play with a peer so.

Long story short, Madara be like "So we're gonna make a village and then I'm gonna marry Tobirama!"

Tobi "fuck yes, a bit ahead of the schedule, but sounds good, i'm in"

Hashirama is outraged bc THATS HIS LIL BROTHER!!!

So Tobirama plays hard and makes Madara promise to marry him when they're old enough.

But then well, they're still found out and they still have a fallout cuz of their clans. But Tobirama made them promise to try hard for peace (and marriage), so now they just have to wait til Butsuma dies and Hashirama can become a clan head.

Tobirama tries not to be so efficient at killing Uchihas cuz he will be their family later so he tries to avoid it and just knock out or use some non lethal methods. Hashirama mostly fights Madara and it's almost sparrings at this point. Itama works on his weed empire and learns healing.

Well one day Butsuma dies and Hashirama and Tobirama bully their Elders and rush to try for peace. Tajima (who I think is still alive) is suspicious of all of it and stalls af.

So one day on the battlefield Tobirama says "So, marriage when? You promised asshole", making all the Uchiha and Senju stumble and "HUH?!"

So now many of the Senju and Uchiha now know that Uchiha clan heir apparently proposed to the Senju heir ??? Everyone is confused.

Madara, still crushing hard on Tobirama, catches this opportunity and bullies everyone to allow peace and let him marry Tobirama. Uchiha allow it only cuz everyone knows how crazy Uchihas about loved ones and Madara is the strongest one. They kinda afraid that if they won't allow it, he'd go crazy (he would).

So Madara gets his trophy wife Tobirama, Tobirama gets his safari zone with Uchihas in their natural habitat.

Tobirama is a surprisingly good husband to Madara, cuz with all that Zetsu thing, he's attentive as hell. "Something bothering you, dear husband? Do tell me everything."

At first they think he'd learn things and will tell that all back to Senju, but Tobirama tries to assure them "I don't really care about details. Tell me about how it makes you feel." (he looks for the signs of Zetsu corruption)

So basically Tobirama marries Madara to become his therapist. Madara is very much in love and constantly brags how much his spouse loves him and that he always listens his worries.

Izuna is mad as fuck about all of it btw. He thinks that Tobirama has ulterior motives and hides something. (He's right. ) But Tobirama dutifully plays his part as an attentive spouse and makes plans for bettering Uchiha clan just so that the village won't suffer. He'd probably would prescribe them regular therapy for everyone who awoken Sharingan.

also @fashionredalert write a snippet for this au with madara in the mud! pls check it out!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[spider-stark]

GOLD

Aeron Bracken x Blackwood!Reader

Summary - You go sneaking through Bracken territory for some time alone with Aeron.

Warnings - mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, no real plot, hurt/comfort, subtle rivals-to-lovers, aeron grabbing boobies lmao, maybe some grammar errors idk

Word Count - 1.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

As the sun dips below the horizon, the beginnings of dusk paint the land around you in dim, muted hues. The forest buzzes with life—crickets chirp and frogs croak, rodents scurry through the undergrowth as birds-of-prey call out overhead. 

Unlike the nocturnal creatures around you, you take great care to stay quiet, fearing that if you don’t, the very soil beneath your boots might finally recognize you as an intruder. 

So you keep every footfall careful and deliberate; avoiding sticks and leaves in favor of plush, noiseless grass. Even your breaths are calculated, soft as the spring breeze rustling the leaves overhead. 

After all, you’re playing a dangerous game venturing this far from home. To be several miles from the vastness of Blackwood Vale, traipsing on the wrong side of the boundary stones, no less… You were gambling with your life—fair game for any Bracken man wishing to bloody their sword with Blackwood blood. As the daughter of Lord Samwell Blackwood, you would make a fine prize, too. 

But you had grown comfortable in these woods the past several months. Familiar, too—learning which paths were best avoided and which clearings were most often used for hunting or goofing-off. You learned to remain invisible, weaving through the trees like a wraith—invisible, unseen and unheard, as you drift towards your usual meeting spot. 

Well—mostly invisible, you suppose. 

You’re less than a few feet from your spot—a glistening creek branching off from the Red Fork, several miles off any main trail—when a twig snaps! behind you. 

Your spine turns to steel, every muscle locking up as alarm bells roar in your mind. A second too late, you reach for the dagger at your thigh. Trembling fingers hardly graze the hilt before an arm wraps itself around your waist, tugging you backwards into a crushing embrace. 

A single finger jabs at your chest, just off-center between your breasts, pressing through the thin fabric of your tunic. 

Just above your heart, you realize as it hammers against your ribs. 

“Got you.” Aeron’s voice quells your nerves, warmth tickling your skin as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. “If I were anyone else,” he murmurs, “you would be dead right now.” 

He taps his finger against your chest—once, then twice—to emphasize his point. As much as it annoys you, you know that he’s right. Anyone else and they wouldn’t have hesitated to send a blade tearing through your chest. 

You won’t admit it, though. 

“You scared me,” you grumble instead, trying to sound annoyed with him. It’s a hopeless objective—it’s too hard to be upset with him when his lips brush over your still-racing pulse, kissing up your neck. 

“Did I?” Aeron asks, playing coy. “Strange. I thought you Blackwoods claimed to be fearless.” 

Teeth graze against your earlobe, nibbling lightly. You bite your lip, twisting around in his hold so that you’re face-to-face. “And I thought Brackens were all insipid creatures,” you tease him. “So I suppose we both deviate from the norm of our Houses, don’t we?” 

Aeron laughs—a sound so sweet it makes your teeth ache. “I suppose so.” 

He pulls you closer, hands falling low on your hips. In all your life, you’ve never met someone so warm before—the sheer closeness of your bodies like standing too close to the edge of a fire. It sets your every nerve ablaze, desire coiling in your belly like a fiery serpent. 

He presses his forehead to yours and, for a moment, you assume he’s going to kiss you. 

Instead, your breaths only mingle in the space between you, his lips barely grazing yours as he whispers, “Still—I need you to be more careful. Especially here.” 

Here. 

That one word is like a bucket of water, dousing the flames lapping at your skin. Desire swiftly turns to nausea at the realization that, even in the arms of your beloved, you were still unwelcome in this part of the Riverlands. Still an intruder. 

You step back, Aeron’s hands falling from your hips. “As if you’re one to lecture me about being careful.” 

Neatly-groomed brows knit together as he watches you turn your back, abandoning him in favor of the gurgling creek. Confusion laces his words as he hurries after you. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“That Benji has a big mouth.” You sit in your usual spot by the creek's edge, your legs stretched out in front of you. You look up at Aeron with a raised brow. “Did you truly think he wouldn’t tell me about you insulting him this morning?” 

“He was trespassing on Bracken land,” Aeron argues. 

You give him a flat look that screams: As if you’re one to talk. 

Aeron had snuck onto Blackwood land more times than you could count—with far more nefarious intentions than Benji. If your brother ever found out about all the times Aeron had snuck into your bedchambers at Raventree… 

“Well he also called me a spineless dolt,” Aeron grumbles. His lips, naturally flushed and oh-so-kissable, turn to a sullen pout. “What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and take it?” 

You fight the urge to scream Yes! at the top of your lungs. 

Instead, you draw in a breath. “You know better than to get into it with him, Aeron. You said it yourself: Blackwoods are fearless—especially Benji.” 

He shakes his head, strands of sandy-colored hair brushing his shoulders. “Feckless is more like it.” 

“Tread lightly, Bracken.” You bristle, shooting him a look of warning. “He’s still my brother.” 

He doesn’t apologize—and you don’t expect him to. After all, both of you know that there’s some truth to his words. 

Benji has always been… difficult. 

Quick to anger and slow to forgive, he was one of many reasons why you kept your feelings for Aeron hidden. 

Your father could be persuaded to accept such a betrothal, you think. After all, it was common—if a bit futile—for Blackwoods and Brackens to wed in the name of peace. At the very least, for the sake of your happiness, he would consider it. 

But Benji… 

“I know I cannot expect you to just let him walk all over you,” you tell Aeron, a bit softer now. “But you know how Benji is.” You turn to the water by your feet. It ebbs and churns, bubbling as it laps at the stones lining the edge. “How detached he gets.” 

It petrifies you, sometimes. How, in a fight, Benji becomes someone else entirely. Should he ever decide to do more than simply taunt Aeron, you know without doubt which of them would survive such a fight. 

“If the two of you ever… If Benji hurts you–” 

Tears sting the back of your throat, the heavy words clinging to your tongue like molasses. You don’t want to think about that—but you can’t stop, either. Silver lines your eyes, tears threatening to spill over as Aeron drops to the ground beside you. 

Without hesitation, he tells you, “You’re right.” Soft, uncalloused hands gently cup your face, urging you to look at him. He brushes a thumb along the apple of your cheek. “I was careless—to think only of my pride instead of what it might do to you if your brother…” Aeron pauses, thinking. “If he went too far. For you, I’ll take better care to hold my tongue around him.” 

Your voice is quiet, hardly perceptible over the gurgling water, when you say, “Do you promise?” 

A childish thing to ask, perhaps. 

Yet Aeron obliges without question. 

“I swear it on the Gods.” 

Slowly, relief begins to untangle the knot in your stomach. 

“But,” Aeron’s lips quirk into a small, teasing smile, “only if you swear to be more cautious when coming here. It seems you’ve gotten far too comfortable wandering through Bracken territory.” A bit more solemn, he adds, “You should walk with your dagger out, at the ready, just in case—at least while you’re still a Blackwood.” 

A wrinkle forms between your brow. “While I’m still a Blackwood?” You ask, amusement dancing in your tone as you echo his earlier words, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“That you won’t be a Blackwood forever—eventually, your father will have to marry you off,” Aeron drones, his hands falling from your face to your waist. “Such is the natural order of things.” 

You try not to giggle as he starts pawing at you, pulling you onto his lap, your thighs caging his hips. “True—but I had no idea you spent so much time thinking of my future.” 

Aeron’s hands dip lower, moving from your waist to slip beneath the hem of your tunic. “I’m always thinking of you.” 

“Have you any particular House in mind, then?” Brushing a lock of sandy hair from his face, you jest, “I can pass your suggestions along to my father.” 

Fingertips trace along your ribcage, inching higher and higher. His palms graze your breasts and suddenly breathing becomes a difficult task—the warmth of his touch reigniting the familiar spark in your belly. 

“Well—” he leans in close, smooth lips hovering over yours—“I’m quite partial to how you might look in gold.” 

“Careful,” you warn—though it's interrupted by a hiss as he toys with your nipples, rolling and pinching, grinning at your reaction. “That almost sounds like a proposal, Bracken.” 

Aeron nearly moans into your mouth as your thighs tense, rolling your hips against his, his voice gruff as he asks, “And would that be such a horrible thing?” 

He doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t want it, maybe. 

Instead, he catches your lips with his. You melt into it—his touch, his taste. His tongue glides against yours, your fingers tangling in his hair and—for a moment—you let everything else fall away, your fears and worries fading into insignificance.  

No, you think. That wouldn’t be horrible at all.

a/n - so I actually ended up not liking this at all once I got about halfway through editing---honestly, something about the ending just is not vibing for me and there really just isn't any true plot here lol. but, with that being said, I had already written it so I decided to go ahead and post it because there needs to be more aeron/amos bracken content in the world. and yes, I did totally just use the name aeron because I like it more than the name amos lmao.

anyways, hope you got some sort of enjoyment out of this! time for me to go write more benji fics🫡

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU BABY

pairings — max verstappen x reader

warnings — nothing but fluff, pretty much just domestic love yk, kinda like the Jason Todd one i wrote

summary — Max wasn't actually a mean guy outside of the grid, he was actually a very loving guy that you had fallen for.

notes — writing f1 stuff will this thrive like my batfam stuff (also this is on my computer so it might be different) (and i’m also kinda writing on my phone?? idk) and it’s crazy short whoops

━━━━━━━ YOU WERE GLAD that Max was finally on his break. You could finally see him for a while, and he wasn't as busy with his media presence and all that. He was all yours until the season started back up again.

You could feel the stubble Max had yet to trim against your shoulder, and you tiredly turned to him, groaning before a smile landed across your face. Despite how early it was, Max's face was able to easily make up for that.

"Morning, Max." You scooted closer to him, kissing him softly. When you pulled away, you smiled happily at him. He smiled back, kissing you before you laid on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

You both stayed like that for another hour, before you got up and went to the kitchen while he delt with the few things he had to for the day. Eventually, he found you downstairs.

You had made a healthy enough breakfast, plating it up for the two of you to eat outside on your balcony. You two sat together on a small couch in a mess of tangled limbs. You remained there, even well after you both finished breakfast.

It was a comfortably quiet time, one the two of you had found yourselves accustomed to ever since he had begun his break from racing.

you had both found the time you spent together, tucked away in your home, had been spectacular thus far. you were now well adjusted to always having Max by you now.

“wish you could stay home like this forever.” you muttered tiredly into his chest, smiling when one of your cats hopped up to where they two of you laid together.

running your hand along the cats fur, you could feel Max looking at you. with a little effort, you finally met his eyes, which were filled with nothing but love and happiness.

“everyone on the grid is so wrong about you being a bad guy. you’re such a softie.” you teased, smiling and poking his side. he smiled wider, throwing his head back and laughing.

“you’re the only one who sees me this way, obviously everyone else thinks i’m a bad guy.” Max rolled his eyes.

“liar. not Charles. he’s probably more in love with you than me.” you joked, dropping your head back down onto his chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart.

it was calm all around. there weren’t any loud cars driving through, you could hear the birds around you two as the sky began to light up, the afternoon at a steady approach.

it just felt like morning. you two had on sweaters, blocking out the morning cold. eventually it would warm up a little more, but wouldn’t get unbearably warm like the summer would.

“i wish i could stay here forever, y’know. right here, on this couch, until we grow old and gray.” you began drawing patterns on his rising and falling chest. you felt it move with laughter, which made you laugh.

“go back inside and play Mario Kart?” Max grinned. you sat up, a determined look crossing your face as you nodded excitedly. you had bought the old Nintendo 64 console and multitude of fun games in Miami during the Miami Grand Prix. you and Max were obsessed.

round after round, insult after insult, it ended with the two of you laughing together in a mess of limbs on the floor.

all Max was made for was love, his insults never had any angry backing, his apologies were instantaneous after any argument, and his priorities in your relationship was very well set.

he did his best for you, and you returned the same bouts of love.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[n0tamused]

HSR characters as dragons

A/N: Hellloo, it is I once more with my dragon rambles. This time we're moving onto HSR a bit more. I do hope you all like how these turned out, and if you'd like any specific character turned into a dragon, please do lemme know in the comments or reblogs. Idk when I'll do the next part, but I do plan to continue this little series.

Content: Dr. Ratio, Luocha and Blade as dragons, x reader, gn reader, fluff, angst(Blade's part)

Dr Ratio:

-A lot don’t consider him a dragon, and they’d have a point since visually Dr. Ratio does lack in the stereotypical dragon aspects, and he himself would classify himself as a “gryphon” much more than a dragon. 

-Nonetheless, he makes the list of many dragon related magazines and novels and research papers

-Dr. Ratio is huge (doctor- you’re huge!)(not sorry) in this dragon form, he certainly does not lack in mass either, hiding quite the muscular form under all the feathers and fluff which he pays a lot of attention to

-One of the life goals he has set is that search for knowledge and more knowledge and to cure the illness called ignorance and stupidity. This life-long dedication has brought him to a lot of places, and a lot of forgotten where he truly hails from.

-Due to his size, he usually cannot fit in many places, and since he frequents cities, schools and so on, he is more often seen in his human form, handling his business accordingly and swiftly. He is calculated, and sometimes considers his beastly form something that represents 2 things. 2-The future version of what he wants to achieve; dragons and gryphons are often classified as hoarders of knowledge, being one of the wisest species that there is, and if he could achieve that peak form, he might have a better time fulfilling his goal. And 2-A representation of a more negative side of himself, driven more by beastly instincts. Quite the contradiction to the first point, which led Ratio to some insecurities about his form. He doesn’t want to risk being impulsive or acting on animalistic impulse, so he doesn’t take on the form that often at all.

-He doesn’t flaunt it either, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive of gorgeous to look at when he does take on the form of the giant bird-dragon

-Due to his build, he is quite well prepared should a fight arise - but as per his morals and protocol, he would much rather take the diplomatic route. Although if the intimidation factor would have any good use, he may arrive at the negotiation site in his dragon form, showing off his size and big claws before reverting to his human form when he lands.

-Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, but his fur and fluff is so soft and he also smells really nice. (I could fall asleep in his fluff and never wake up)

-He is really cautious in his dragon form, stepping lightly and gingerly around anything that could be damaged or broken easily, specifically you. Speaking of that - for a dragon his size he really does step lightly. His footsteps don’t echo or tremble the ground like you may expect, and also similarly - he flies very silently. You don’t hear him approaching at all.

-He would let you pet him only after a lot of nagging, feeling a bit embarrassed mentally about the situation as he just sits there and then there’s you, a tiny human hopping around him all giddy and with stars in your eyes as you pet him and maybe even try to climb him. He’s grumpy, but he is flattered- especially since it is you bringing forth all this mirth and compliments for this beastly form, and also him as a human too

-He’s also ambidextrous, both in human and dragon form. 

-.... I'm tempted to say that in dragon form he can also use his hind legs as hands too due to this... like bro is skilled okay, knowledge gave him writing buffs lmao

Luocha:

-(pretty dragon pretty dragon-)

-A very kind looking dragon, gentle and smelling of spring and reminiscent of a bountiful harvest with his pale gold scales and flowing golden mane.

-It is unknown where exactly he came from, as he sort of just appeared one day and came to exist within the people’s memories

-Some of the jewelry decorating his mane and body were gifts from some youngsters he came across. He accepted these gifts and polished them before putting them on himself, wearing the gifts with pride, earning the trust of the locals smoothly and swiftly with his humble demeanor

-He is well versed in medicinal herbs and has offered his aid to many individuals, even fellow dragons. While he does frequent his dragon form a lot, as it also makes carrying wares easier, he is still human and both dragon and human need to eat. While he has offered free services to those in dire need, he does charge others, and although his prices are not high, the price is still there.

-Some claim he uses magic to grow his herbs, since everyone that got their wares of herbs from him claim that they instantly felt better, after a sniff or a first sip. 

-His front legs are a bit shorter, making his hips stand a bit higher when he is walking on all fours, but he is also able to walk on his hind legs, and his front legs are very flexible. He can harvest and plant his own herbs just fine in his dragon form. His heavy tail gives him a great balance and if need be he can run very fast. He is quite agile, whether it be on 2 or 4 feet and, despite the gentle nature, can fight.

-You can often catch him laying down in some sun-kissed spot near the city, surrounded by kids after his business hours, all kids admiring his form; playing with his mane or claws or scarves on his body, one kid is braiding little braids on one side, and there’s a kid that somehow  climbed their way up onto his forehead, holding onto his bangs for dear life. Luocha lays his head down, huffing as the kids exhaust themselves jumping and playing. Although if the sun is setting he doesn’t hold back on telling them to go home or telling them some ghost tale to scare them back into their parent’s arms. 

-He does love picking you up too if he is feeling cheeky, setting you on his back or his head as he walks back to your shared residence in that place.

A:n: Luocha is one of my favorite designs that I’ve done so far, look at him auhfoisfahofsg

Blade:

-Once a young, moon-kissed and pale dragon was now a shell of his former self, with only small patches of pale fluff standing out as a faint reminder of what he once was.

-His illness made spiky protrusions grow from his underbelly and it ruined his maw as well. However formidable it all made him, dark and scary, he was in constant pain.

-He is rarely ever seen, and ever since the ‘incident’ he has become a ghost tale to scare the kids with, a warning to any other long-life species as to what may happen if they follow down his route and what can happen if they're struck with the same illness as him

-Blade avoids any reflective surfaces in which he may look at himself, as that can sometimes make his mara flare up. He often spends his time in solitude, be it doing missions or spending his time in forgetfulness. Forgetting has become a hobby now, staring at the dark walls of some cave he found as he slowly realizes his memories are shrinking. It's as if all his puzzle pieces are being taken away from him, thrown away or hidden from his clutches.

-Blade frequently takes the form of the dragon, the pain seems more manageable when he is huge and terrifying. A lot of people that catch a glimpse of him also stay far far away, and unless they're the object of his mission - he won't go after them either. The sight of him alone is terrifying. 

-Big curled horns that are dark gray like the dark side of the moon, and if you look close enough there's small shimmers in the shadow clad corners of his scales and horns. Up close he is…pretty in his own right, his subconscious struggling to keep the remaining pieces of his past intact through physical attributes.

-His long flowing mane is soft and well kept, even if Blade doesn't particularly pay much attention to it, or the other fluff spots on his body. 

-He doesn't know where the jewelry in his hair came from, but there's something about it that forbids him from removing it. 

-The red sash around him was put there by Kafka and you, and if often maintained by you two. And there's something intimate about tying the bow at his back or putting the big golden clips into his fur. It's the trust he puts into you, and while it may seem like such a mundane action like helping someone button up their shirt, it means a lot more when Blade is in question, someone who doesn't let anyone else touch him or go near him.

-I think it is safe to say that this bad boy can fight. And fight he does. His mara has hardened his teeth further, and if any fall out during a scuffle, another one will take its place soon after. Although he is a bit long, he is quite strong. The only disadvantage he has is the fact that he is flightless. His species might as well fall into some branch of a drake. He can breathe fire though, and that ability has served him before in making weapons - these days though he doesn't use it much. He has teeth and claws, and that's enough. 

-During more easy days, he does like having you around, when his mara is silent and not dragging him under, your presence is comforting. He'll just lay down near you and soak in your presence. He will scoff or huff if you decide to shuffle closer, but he will most likely give in in times like these. Touch him, run your fingers through his fur, the fluff and the mane, he'll close his eyes and sigh. 

Size chart:

-Listen, I had a hard time trying to figure out sizes for them since they'd almost the same, but in the end I settled with this.

-Dr Ratio > Luocha > Blade

-Blade is huge but he is more long lol, and if it came to a hypothetical fight with either of the other two, Blade is winning no argument there, unless they yank him into the skies and slam him down idk

-There is a little difference in size between them tbh

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.