#or black dragons with red or white dragons or even pink ones

[randomnameless]

Who's winning the racism contest, Three Hopes with it's “the Orient is composed near-entirely of stupid, bloodthirsty slave-owners who take pride in raiding other countries for fun” or Tellius with it's “racial miscigenation is bad because one of the parents of the mixed-race child will lose their racial traits just for having the child at all”?

Fodlan bcs Dimitri is racist and Rhea BaD promotes isolationism

At least Nopes can pretend to be in the same world as Houses, so Claude, off-screen, when he goes to school, apparently manages to "teach" his people to not raid Fodlan and instead try to have regular and not bloody relationships with them -

But Tellius still takes the cake, because that's how its world works, it cannot be changed at all (unlike Almyrans who can be civilised by a Claude who went to school in Fodlan and this is totally not problematic in itself nope not at all).

So while Fodlan really really sucks because it reveals in 2022 some "writers" still think "the Orient" is full of bloodthirsty savages who want to raid and pillage for funsies and must be civilised - Tellius sucks even more, because the writers, while not showing irl bias, basically wrote "and you cannot have mixed race children otherwise you die" and went with it, while selling the hero as someone who supposedly bridged the relationships between said races.

[charnelhouse]

you'll be waiting in vain

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Stark!F!Reader Wordcount: 3.2K Warnings: smut. jealousy. daemon being daemon. Semi-Outdoor handjobs. Summary: “Go back to Dragonstone, husband,” you order coldly. “You’ve spilled your seed.” A/N: Someone requested a reader being daemon's reluctant bride like his first marriage. sexual tension. hatred. insinuations that daemon can't get it up. Title from eyes on fire by blue foundation

The first time is a shock to both of you. He had come to linger at Winterfell though he had hardly visited since your wedding. The marriage had been a failure from the start. The ceremony silkily resplendent, and the bed empty. The following day, Daemon had sent you home.

Now, he only visits because of his King. Caraxes loathes the cold, and so does the hot-blooded Daemon. One does not go without the other.

Daemon, by his own arrogant creed, despises everything you are. 

The long-faced Starks. The North even though their lineages are just as old as Targaryens. Valyria. Brandon the Builder. The First Men. Dragons. Direwolves. 

He comes without notice, the high-pitch whistle of Caraxes is the first battle call to announce his arrival. You smooth your gowns and fiddle with your hair before you glide out of the castle to greet him. Caraxes lands brutally, claws sinking into mud and shattering a few wheelbarrows of chickens. They shriek before going silent, and you grimace, knowing that it won’t reflect well on you. 

As if you had invited him here. As if you did anything with your prince.  The bright red dragon’s lean, enormous body shudders in the wind. His gleaming eyes register your presence, and you’d swear there is curiosity circling the pupil, a glimmer of recognition before he twists his head to look at his rider. 

Daemon, in leathers and his ridiculous helmet, slides from his mount. His black velvet clothing is threaded in scarlet. The Dragon. The Rogue Prince. He is handsome and terrible with his violet irises and silver hair. The Northerners despise him, utterly bereft that their Stark Lady has married Targaryen filth. He removes his gloves as he saunters toward you before he stills. He cocks his head, eyes trailing from your toes to your brow. 

“Why are you here, husband?”

“Have you grown taller?” He steps closers, looming over you with a sharp, observant glare. “You look different.”

You cross your arms over your chest and square your shoulders. “Why are you here?”

“Prettier,” he mutters. “Tell me, is there some great Northern oaf fucking you? Making you bloom like this?”

Horrified, you draw back as if he’s slapped you. The question is outrageous, and instinctively you lift your hand before he snatches your wrist. 

“A jest,” he drawls, mouth quirking. “As for my arrival here? My brother wants me to fulfill my husbandly duties and seed you, wife.”

You can’t control your expression. Starks are not well trained in courtly etiquette, and your shock screams across your face. Daemon fully grins; it is the first time you’ve ever seen it.

He taps your chin to force your mouth closed before he brushes past you. “Don’t worry, sweetling,” he says over his shoulder. “We can keep up the farce. Just order my rooms ready, and I will ask nothing else of you.”

Bastard.

You wrap your arms around your waist, suddenly freezing. You watch Caraxes rise slowly before flying away, blotting out the white sun to hunt, sleep, or whatever dragons do.

His wings shake the ground. 

***

Daemon does not ask for much. He keeps to himself, reading books and studying the lands outside Winterfell. One morning, you dare to climb the battlements to catch a glimpse of him. 

It’s dawn. The air is cold and biting. The sky is purple, flushed with pink and red. It reminds you of the heart tree and Caraxes’s scales. Daemon, tall and imposing, is leaning against the wall. His silver-blonde hair is braided away from his face, rest of it falling in a mess of curls and tangles like the weather has whipped it up. The rising sun gilds his profile and, for a moment, you are struck dumb at his beauty.

You are so used to his dry sarcasm and guarded countenance that you don’t expect this: his distant, vulnerable gaze adrift on the horizon before him. He seems lost in a memory. 

“Planning where to build your castle?” you ask, splitting the silence.

He drops his head, smiling and you should have known he sensed your presence the second you’d stepped into his space. “The Northmen would have my head, darling one.”

You bristle at the sweet name, but allow it as you have allowed all of his transgressions. “When will you leave?”

He glances at you over his shoulder. “When I have sated my pleasure.”

You scowl. “There is no one here for that.”

His eyes brighten and he stands before strolling toward you. “No one?” He cocks his head. “My dear, there is a lovely little house just beyond the gates. I’ve made quite a impression I think.”

You’re stunned. You did not realize that he’d been entertaining himself at the brothel where your own bannermen have no doubt seen him. Your cheeks burn hot at the humiliation. The entire reason Daemon has flown to Winterfell is to fuck you and he’s made it glaringly obvious that you haven’t sufficed. You’ve had enough of his pompous attitude, his princely sentiment. He thinks he owns the North simply because he’s married you. 

You lift your chin, narrowing your gaze. His brow furrows as if he recognizes the imperceptible change in your demeanor. You’ve only been the winsome, docile wife. The subserviant lady. 

You will show him. You will show your bitterness.

“Daemon.” you purr as you grip him by the shoulders and drag him backwards into the entrance of the watchtower. It’s cold here. The stones are wet and the torches unlit. 

“Aroused, are we?” he taunts as he allows you to guide him. “Did jealousy do the trick? The thought of me fucking some whore with my-”

You abruptly grasp him over his trousers and he chokes on his tongue. Quickly, you undo the laces and slip your hand past the band. You feel him - hard, long, and pulsing. You squeeze his length, slide your thumb over the head as he begins to grind into your touch. With your other hand, you tangle it into his long hair. Your nails dig into his skull and he buries his face into your throat, his lips are warm on your skin as he groans. He croaks your name and oh the power of it…to feel him trembling in the cradle of your palm.

You fist his cock with a roughness to match his ugly exterior. You twist and rotate your wrist as you keep an even pace. You lower your gaze to watch, mesmerized every time the fat blushed head peeks between your curled fingers as you stroke down. 

“Like this, my prince?” He is pinning you to the wall with all of his weight, his thigh locked between your legs as his hands fly to your waist. He smells like Winterfell and burning coals. He makes a broken sort of noise from the middle of his chest. You thought he’d be louder, but he appears to even control the volume of his pleasure. Guarded. Severe. Daemon.

You notice the vein in his throat rolling with his heartbeat and the wolf in you desires a taste. You lunge and sink your teeth into it. Daemon rumbles, jerking violently against you as he spills into your hand. 

The seed is warm in the cold and you imagine that if you raised your hand to the air, it would steam like a hot pool. You say nothing as Daemon tries to calm his ragged gasps. 

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, unlatched from its usual wicked reserve. “You’re a plague,” he accuses. 

You laugh as you pivot out of his embrace. You’re slippery and empty, hunger pawing between your legs as you meet Daemon’s hellbent, almost-furious, gaze. 

“Who knew the cold, frigid Starks could be so welcoming,” he remarks dryly as he tried to elegantly step away, tucking himself back into his trousers. He’s shaken, vulnerable because you’ve unhanded him. You take the moment to deal a kill shot.

You lift your fingers, sticky with his seed, and taste it, lick it like you’re savoring lemon icing. His eyes widen a touch and you count it as a win against him. 

Shocking Daemon Targaryen is your latest game. You are not the frigid wolf girl he believes you to be. He has put you into a box and you have decided to burn it down. 

“Go back to Dragonstone, husband,” you order coldly. “You’ve spilled your seed.”

***

Daemon is gone for a month before he returns. It is a new record for him. He has always left for whole seasons, sometimes a year. 

You hear Caraxes’s shriek. It wakes you, makes your heart stutter. Inexplicably, something molten trails down your belly before settling in your core. You think of Daemon out there, waiting for your arrival and being refused. You think of his spend on your tongue. The salty nip of it. Your nipples pebble and your back arches and you dip your hand between your legs and sink two fingers into your cunt. 

You think of Daemon’s red, throbbing cock. You add a third finger. You stretch yourself, rub your clit and whimper into the blankets. You can hear him in the hall, boots echoing like fallen statues. He’s shouting something to the servants. He’s terribly angry. You quicken your pace, your pleasure builds into a howl before you fall over the edge. 

He throws open the door. His face is covered in grime and he stinks of a battle. 

Who have you been fighting, dearest? Who have you been trying to conquer?

You coyly sit up, attempting to look shocked. He’s standing there, staring and there is a tangible tension between you that rings like a bell. You slip from your bed and glide over to him. His eyes catalogue every piece of your body to note what new change you have to present. The bare skin, the white, fluttering sleeping gown. You touch his cheek with the hand you stuck in your cunt not a few minutes before.

For a second, you think he knows…he can smell you. He flushes, the pink dazzling his pale milk-skin.

He steps away from your hand and shifts on his feet as his violet gaze wanders everywhere, but your face. 

“Would you like to touch him?” Daemon asks hesitantly. He’s in a linen shirt and coal black trousers. His dirty boots.

You frown. “Who?”

“Caraxes.”

It is absurd. Daemon has arrived with no warning. He has stormed into your room without any sense of courtesy before nervously asking if you’d like to pet his dragon. 

“Oh,” you smile with real emotion. “Oh, yes please!”

***

“He likes you.”

Daemon’s features are twisted into incredulity. He watches as your fingers stroke Caraxes’s long snout. 

Your stranger-husband had been uncharacteristically protective, putting himself in front of you before taking your hand and placing it on Caraxes’s hide. When Daemon was distracted, you’d gradually creeped toward the enormous jaws intending to peer the red dragon in the eye. 

Daemon had nearly had a fit, rushing toward you before stopping dead in his tracks. Caraxes was purring, rumbling under your ministrations. 

“I do not-”

“The Starks have a way with incredible creatures, Daemon,” you explain, amused at his horror. “We have magic in our blood just as Targaryens do.”

“I’ve never heard of a dragon submitting to a Stark,” he argues, sounding slightly disturbed. 

“He doesn’t submit to me. He’s tolerating me,” you clarify. “A Direwolf would be another story.”

Daemon huffs before moving behind you. His broad chest touches your back, his chin grazes the side of your temple. He hovers over you before his hand clasps the top of yours and you both caress Caraxes’s snout. He lowers his head so that his warm breath tickles your ear. “Would you like to fly?”

***

You didn’t care for the flying. The air was too cold and you didn’t have the proper attire. Daemon had to wrap his larger body around yours in order to keep you warm. 

Despite yourself, you had enjoyed that part. You enjoyed the way he spoke to you about how to fly Caraxes: what he tells him, how they move with eachother. He’d pressed against your back with all of his lean, tough muscle. He said something to you in old Valyrian that you could not parse, but figured it was either crude or an insult.

When you land, your guards lose their minds. 

You are freezing, my lady. 

You could have fallen! 

You cannot ride a dragon.

Your husband has endangered you.

Daemon, with all of his syrupy contempt, rolls his eyes. 

“Of course, I brought my lady wife up to the sky to catch her death,” he drawls. “You’ve caught me.”

“Daemon,” you warn before pinching the back of his arm. He abruptly stops so that you stumble into him. He smoothly reaches back, his calloused hand catching your hips to steady you. His bones are firm and he’s still blazing hot from riding Caraxes. Before you can stop yourself, you lean forward, mouth against his cheek.

“It’s not a bad plan, my prince. Winterfell could be yours.”

He turns, nostrils flaring as he levels you with a steely look. “Not until I’ve had the Lady Stark.” His voice so full of suggestion, it nearly hurts. “Not until then.”

***

For all the Targaryen flair, Daemon is a warrior at his base. He does not mind the mud, blood, and shit that a soldier’s life offers. The longer he stays, the more he seems to relate to the Northerners. 

Your people are unyielding and unbreachable. They speak to him with respect, but are difficult to woo. Daemon tries his best before finally utilizing his wit at the expense of the old North houses to entertain himself. He is gleeful as he converses in double-entendres that go over Lord Mormont’s head.

“Everyone is so rigid,” he bites as he sprawls out in a chair by the fire. He’s drunk on Northern ale and you are already in your bed. No one will say a word that you’re sharing a room. Sometimes you forget that you’re married. 

“They’re a cold sort,” you agree. 

“Winter is coming,” he slurs with disdain as he drops his face into his hand and stares unseeing at the fire. He watches the flames crackle for a long time before he finally speaks. “Yet you are full of heat. Fire. Blood.” He looks to your bed. “I did not see you on our wedding night..I did not see you at all. You were entirely forgettable.”

You flinch, hurt by the reminder that he had abandoned you that night to roam, drink and fuck. He’d never consumnated the marriage and you had sobbed in your gown because you did not understand the rejection.

“Go to your lovely little brothel then,” you growl and his head snaps to attention. 

“You do not hear me,” he protests as he stands. 

“Leave,” you snap with all of your loathing and bitterness. He has slapped a nerve, hit you where you are raw and weeping. He had ignored you for years, forced you to rot in Winterfell. You were married, but remained untouched. It spills out of you - so much ice. “Go stick your cock in another, prince,” you sneer as you dig your nails into your thigh to keep from crying. “If you can even get it hard enough for the deed.”

His teeth audibly clench, a tiny muscle in his jaw flexes. “As you wish then,” he declares in a cold, severe tone before he storms out of your room. 

You burst into tears, stricken with grief at your own actions. Your brother has gone to war. Your parents dead. You are alone aside from your guards and the Septa who raised you. You only have Daemon, the delicious promise of the rogue prince to ease the repetitive, unending boredom. He scares you. He leaves you soaked and feverish. He makes you want to devour everything, fight him tooth and nail until he nails you down and conquers you like Aegon himself.

You do not want to be the forgettable girl in the box. The girl not allowed to ride dragons. 

***

He enters your room in his clothes from the night before. You regard him cautiously, embarrassed at your outburst. Your blatant jealousy. 

“Daemon...” you begin haltingly. 

He wordlessly stalks forward, both hands grasp the hinges of your jaw before he kisses you fiercely. It is bruising. He forces your back against the window, pins you with his thigh as his tongue plunges past your lips to stroke inside your mouth in the reflection of a fuck. You push at his shoulders, shove at him before pulling him back to you. 

“Lift your skirts,” he demands in a soft voice between kisses. “I will prove you wrong.”

“I won’t touch if you have laid with others.” Proud, despite the way you’re arching into him, rub yourself against the velvet of his tunic.

He draws back to hold your gaze. “I did not,” he swears. “I drank in the crypt until morning.” He ducks his head, expression almost sheepish.

You laugh, unable to stop yourself. The thought of your arrogant dragon prince sullenly drinking beneath the ground. He rolls his eyes and presses his mouth to yours again. “I want you, wife.” His lips slide down your jaw to your throat as he speaks to you, seduces you. “I have thought of nothing else but that Northern cunt since you licked my seed from your fingers.”

His voice is rich and low, grazing your skin and your bones and the deepest part of your womb. You fist a hand into his hair to wrench him closer. You want to ride the dragon.

***

He handles you well, observing your gestures and reactions. What do you like? What will you like once he teaches you to like it? He teases your sex with his fingers, stroking and petting as he nurses his thumb against the bud at the peak of it. “That’s it,” he croons. “Relax into it, lady love.”

He takes your knees in hand and forces them back against your breasts. He spreads you as he guides his cock into your slick heat. It is difficult, but he works his way inside as you bloom around him. He does it slow, controlled. He teases the head, pushing it past your entrance, smearing it against your folds, before drawing back. He drives in an inch, then two before removing himself completely. You cry, digging your nails into his tapered waist, the flesh of his ass. When he finally buries himself, it is a shock. He groans into your mouth, marveling at the tightness, the near pain of trying to fit himself. It is the only time he is loud…the only time he cannot smother it. You take it as a victory before you become a mess.

As he braces his weight above you, he fucks you slow. Each burning drag of his cock forces a sob from your mouth that he steals away with his lips.

‘Hush, darling,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to terrify your guardsmen.”

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins as he grasps your ass to lift your hips. The angle changes and he thrusts down so that the head of his cock batters against your womb.

He snatches your chin, his blunt nails bite into your skin. “The cold works for you,” he husks. “My Northern beauty.” He lowers his mouth a breath from your own. “My little wolf.”

Your chest tightens, your belly warming under his praise. Daemon’s appreciation is a rare thing. He fights everything offered to him. He bullies himself against the world until he cracks his own skull. You feel his hand catch the nape of your neck, grip it firmly. He traces the tender flesh that stretches around his cock, flicks and pinches the bead that sparks pleasure through your limbs. You shiver, thighs locked around his waist. 

“Do you feel it?” he asks as you clench around him, walls pulsing as your lower muscles bear down. Even beneath him, you’re riding the dragon. You’re digging your knees into his ribs to straddle the beast. You hold his face between your hands as the warm, golden song dances beneath your skin, it simmers until it bubbles. It grows and grows and then you fall to pieces, cunt knotting around him, sucking him to your throat like it was your own desperate mouth. “Fuck,” he growls with another sharp pump of his hips. “Fuck - you feel it.”

He continues, possessing you in short, frantic strokes. The bed creaks. A log in the fire chars and hits the stone floor. Caraxes roars in the distance and you momentarily feel the blood of the dragon shoot through Daemon’s veins. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder just as he sheathes himself to the hilt, his body blanketing your own. The sweat from his brow hits your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his fingers clutch the sheets as if to anchor himself, bind himself.

“This feels…this feels…”

You are nailed to the ground, a ready sacrifice. A marriage. You are connected, tangled, wolf and dragon. Ice and fire. 

“We have magic in our blood,” he realizes, scraping his teeth along your collar bone. Inside your core, he throbs like a beating heart. “I taste it on you.”

[puzzled-pegasus]

more WoF tribe hcs because I feel like it

SandWings often swallow their prey whole like a snake

RainWings, when telling stories, subconsciously change their scales to vaguely match those of the dragons in the story. They find it hard to follow stories told by non-RainWings because they rely somewhat on visual cues. Ex: Kinkajou telling Moon about something Winter said and her scales turning white and blue without her thinking about it.

Dragon wing gestures are something not enough ppl talk about but I love thinking about wing movement as it relates to body language. Wings flared to try to intimidate or to convey excitement, wings swept outward and horizontally to gesture to their surroundings, wings used to point at things, to wave hello or goodbye, RainWing wings outstretched and turned red in a gesture not unlike a middle finger, wings pulled back in shock, wings poised to launch into the air in a fight or flight response when startled, etc etc just WING RELATED BODY LANGUAGE/GESTURES!

SkyWings also 100% have at LEAST 30 rude gestures you can do with ur wings

LeafWings have prehensile tails like RainWings

RainWings as well as IceWings have an incredible ability to right themselves in the air when knocked off balance, kinda like cats lol

SandWings would too bc sandstorms

SandWings are actually really good swimmers

MudWings don't swim but walk along the bottom of the lake/river like a hippo

When RainWings trip on frog poison, their scales turn neon colors

SkyWings have extremely well developed vision and can see insane detail from very far away, like an eagle.

RainWings have courtship dances.

Typically, male RainWings and SkyWings have brighter colors and male SkyWings are more commonly red.

Similarly, blue SeaWings are more commonly male.

HiveWings can be hot pink. (Inspiration from that one kind of grasshopper)

Procreation between NightWings and SeaWings sometimes creates children with bioluminescent black lights.

RainWings can learn to speak Aquatic through scale color changes, though it only works with daylight because their scales are only color changing and not bioluminescent.

SeaWings can get high from pufferfish poison, like dolphins.

SeaWings get sick when they transfer from fresh water to salt water and vice versa, similar to altitude sickness.

SkyWings anatomically have the largest hearts of any tribe. (Ah, the irony)

If they eat too many shrimp or similar seafood, IceWings can turn pink. (It's not cute though, it's often a sign of malnourishment.)

RainWings, LeafWings and NightWings are the only tribes able to eat chocolate without getting sick.

Many NightWings are colorblind, but can see colors in visions of the future.

RainWings can mimick sounds and even voices with bonechilling accuracy.

Pantalan dragons do not have forked tongues.

[descaladumidera]

COLOR WHEEL CHALLENGE

Yeah, nobody thought I'd be able to finish this, including me. So. Yay for me? Even if they're low-effort drawings.

Daredevil

Spider-Gwen

The Punisher

Nightcrawler

Jessica Jones

Iron Fist

Luke Cage

Spider-Man

ID in alt text and under the cut.

[ID:

Nine pictures.

The first one shows a completely filled Color Wheel with eight drawings.

The red part shows Daredevil, the pink part shows Spider-Gwen, the purple part shows the Punisher (Frank Castle), the dark blue part shows Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner), the light blue part shows Jessica Jones, the green part shows Iron Fist (Danny Rand), the yellow part shows Luke Cage, and the orange part shows Spider-Man (Peter Parker).

The next eight drawings are the single characters.

The first one shows a drawing of Matt Murdock as Daredevil in his red comic suit. He is shown from the waist up, his lower body cut into a triangle shape. His body is turned slightly away from the viewer and his head is raised as if he is looking up.

The next one shows a drawing of Gwen Stacy as Spider-Gwen in her white, pink, and black comic suit. She is shown in a typical Spidey crouch, one hand on the ground, the other ready to fire a web. Her lower body cut into a triangle shape. She is facing the viewer straight on.

The next one shows a drawing of Frank Castle as The Punisher in in his skull shirt and long leather coat. He is turned slightly to the side but looking at the viewer, holding an assault rifle in both of his hands. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler in his red-and-black X-Men suit, including the white gloves and shoes. He is jumping, his left arm outstretched, while his right one hangs lower, bringing his right hand level with his feet. His tail is swishing around his body, coming out in front. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Jessica Jones in her trademark leather jacket. She is glowering at the viewer, arms crossed, a light scowl on her face. Her lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Danny Rand in his green Iron Fist suit, including the yellow mask, yellow gloves, yellow belt, and the yellow dragon on his chest. He is turned to the side, both hands up, balled into fists. He is holding one fist in front of him, while he is pulling the other back, ready for a strike. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Luke Cage in his trademark yellow shirt. He is facing the viewer straight on, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The last one shows a drawing of Peter Parker as Spider-Man in his red-and-blue suit, including the mask. He is turned to the side, body in a crouch, while is head is turned up. His right arm is extended behind him. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

End ID.]

[zelinkdragons]

Here are two pics I commissioned recently, since I wanted to see how Link might look as an immortal dragon 💖 Thank you so much @eethok and @smugcomputer!

This is an AU where Link got his arm back, but Zelda stayed as a dragon at the end. So she wouldn't be alone, Link became a dragon too using Mineru's Secret Stone.

As the Light/Demon Dragons are called the White/Black Dragons in other languages like Japanese, I decided Link should be the Silver Dragon. Maybe his English name could be something like Knight Dragon, because he’s silver like a sword blade, or the Hyrule knight armour he sometimes wore in the past, and due to him mostly flying at the Light Dragon’s side.

I was more involved in brainstorming aspects of the left pic because I only printed one set of refs. Design info under the cut.

Dragon Link AU | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Dragon Link retains his hair and eye colour like the Light and Demon Dragons do.

Like Farosh he only has one horn, with ‘damage’ resembling the decayed Master Sword.

He has eight eyelashes like the Demon Dragon (the elemental dragons only have six and the Light Dragon has seven), but with some lashes longer to resemble the Sheikah slate symbol. @eethok suggested the eyelashes be blue like Link’s hair tie, and that’s where the Sheikah slate symbol came in. This symbol is also used on the Purah Pad's screen.

He has a canine-like snout to reference Link’s wolf form from Twilight Princess, and the pink patches are vaguely referencing his pink rabbit form from Link to the Past.

His spikes and other accents are green to represent the Triforce of Courage, since the Light Dragon has blue spikes and the Demon Dragon has red ones. Even though this Link wears blue more, he still gotta be green! I tried to choose a shade like the Tunic of the Wild.

His inner eye colour and sclera might change because I haven't fully decided what they should be yet. The Light Dragon's inner eye colour is green and she has purple sclera

I'm not sure if his spine scales would be blue or silver, since the Light Dragon's are gold like her eyelashes, but the Demon Dragon's are black like his scales.

[bubblez-bubble]

If I could I would like to talk about the very second "nalu moment" in the series that takes place in episode 2. (The first I would like to believe is him telling her he's taking her to fairy tail.)

But this moment...

This was a major nalu moment for 2 reasons, 1 way more obvious than the other.

So let's start with the obvious.

First of all, for those who haven't made it to the grand magic games arc for any reason...

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!

This is how Natsu remembered this moment. Which automatically gives it points for NaLu.

If you recall, towards the end of the grand magic games arc when the dragons attacked, Lucy was targeted by future rogue. Future Lucy, however, used her body as a shield and saved present Lucy's life. We then find out that the way we initially thought Natsu would remember the moment she officially joined was not how he remembered it at all, but instead remembered it as what seems to have been one of his core Lucy memories.

But I have a theory as well.

Here we can see that Lucy's favorite colors are pink and blue. However, unlike everyone else in the guild. Her outfit nor hair even once match her guild mark (with the exception of pajamas). Gray usually wears black pants to match his, erza wears a blue skirt to match hers, wendy wears blue in every outfit to match hers, and even natsu at least once wore red to match his, which if I'm being honest the color of his guild mark could have more to do with igneel seeing as his scales are red, but that's a totally different topic for another time. But lucy primarily wears blue and white. Neither of which is the color of her guild mark.

Why is this important?

As you may have guessed it has to do with my personal theory.

Does anyone remember how excited she was to show her guild mark to Natsu specifically? The moment she had it she ran to him to show him without hesitation.

I promise there's a reason for all these points.

Well my personal theory has to do with her guild mark, if that wasn't obvious already.

Again several times with everyone else in the guild we see them wear outfits to match their guild marks, but the only outfit lucy has ever matched with her guild mark was her pajamas.

So why did she choose a pink guild mark?

My theory is...

Because it matches Natsu's hair!

He was the first one she wanted to show her guild mark to.

He was the one that brought her to fairy tail.

AND he saved her from bora and his men!

To me, this was her way of showing her appreciation for Natsu.

And to me this also ties in with the "natsus core memory" bit.

Another headcanon is he remembered this because this moment touched him. He was the first person she wanted to show and her guild mark is the same color as his hair. To him, seeing her guild mark for the first time could've meant the world to him. But they just met so he couldn't let her know that.

It's just my personal little theory/head-canon. But it's still so cute none the less to think that this might be a possibility.

[aphroditelovesu]

Rhaenyra's baby is always impeccably dressed, gods. Her mother puts her the most beautiful dresses, ribbons in her hair, brooches, beautiful and delicate necklaces, etc. RHAENYRA LOVES TO SHOW OFF HER BABY, EVEN SPINNING WITH HER WHILE HOLDING HER IN HER ARMS AND THE LITTLE PRINCESS LAUGHS. (I have no doubt that the little baby inherited jewelry from her grandmother Aemma ). Just imagine yan mom Nyra in her baby's room every morning bathing and perfuming her, giving her hairstyles with braids (and Nyra explains to her baby that Targaryen princesses usually do braids ) and putting delicate jewelry, bracelets, necklaces or small tiaras (because it's still small to wear bigger ones ). The dresses she wears are made especially for her, in soft baby colors and she absolutely never repeats a single dress, mother dragon Rhaenyra takes care of that. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💗

Rhaenyra's baby is always dressed like a true princess, with expensive and flowing dresses, most of the time squandering the colors of the Targaryen house, black and red, but also using softer colors like pink and white. You'll never see the little princess without an expensive silk dress and some elaborate hairdo, usually made by her mother.

Repeat dresses? Never. When you're a princess and your mother's favorite, not only because you're her only daughter, but also basically everyone's favorite in the family, wearing repeat outfits isn't something that occurs. The baby of the family receives new clothes practically every day and in different tones. From the Targaryen colors, usually given by Daemon and Rhaenyra, to the greens, which are normally given by Alicent and Otto.

Jewels are part of the look, being a small child, the princess does not wear much jewelry, besides a necklace and some bracelets and, depending on the case, a pair of dazzling earrings. No doubt, anon, definitely baby!reader inherited her late grandmother's jewels and these jewels are her favorites, although she never got to know Aemma. She also receives jewelry from her mother and other relatives of hers.

Rhaenyra loves to show off her little princess, even more so when they are styled the same. Namely, displaying the colors of the house of the dragon. I have no doubt that, in this case, Daemon will end up getting involved in this joke and the three will "parade" with the Targaryen crest. You know, to show off the lovely princess and to leave a message for the Greens.

Imagine yan!mom and baby!reader dressed the same, based on this dress that Nyra wore, only smaller to fit the little princess... 🥺

~ Lady L

[starlaindisguise]

sorry 4 forgetting i could post here X___X life is lifeing! but the fixation wheels never stop turning……I GOT SUPER INTO LEGO MONKIE KID AGAIN AND NOW I AM MAKING IT EVERYONE’S ISSUE :D !!!

here are my traffic light trio human designs!! i thought really hard about all of the little details soooo lemme just yap about those for a sec :3

MEI )) Han Chinese (based off of her English dub voice actor) !! I gave her lots of piercings, particularly nose piercings (in recent artworks of mine I have drawn the nose piercings with more of a dragon shape) and this cool like…ear chain piercing that connects to pink diamond earrings! I made her jewelry gold to represent how much of a boss she is, and also just because yk, gold, winner, first place, status, AMAZING? I feel like she deserves to feel like a million dollars but that’s just me! Also, fun fact, pink diamonds are one of the rarest and most expensive diamonds in the world. Maybe she got those earrings as an offering, or made fake ones to look cool. It’s your choice! I gave her bright green dragon scales around her face. Her nails are pink and blue because it looks good with her outfit haha,, I also gave her an ace ring because I PROJECT. She has a few cute bracelets (M.A.D. being the most notable) and necklaces I feel like she’d like!! Honestly I just gave her my dream fashion sense

MK )) White + Chinese (Up for change. I like a lot of different interpretations of MK!) I gave him hair clips to push back his side sweep! I also gave him little earrings but not a lot. I don’t think he could handle too many piercings wjsjsjs- I gave him a trans pin and an aroace pin, just my lil headcanons (I guess one canon. TRANSMASC SWAAAAG) I also gave him patches on his jacket; I like to think that Pigsy taught him how to use a sewing machine and he’s addicted to it. That’s why he has the iconic symbol on his back in my heart !! He has a heart and a dragon that Mei gave him :) On his hands he has some eczema scars and hot oil stains from dropping the noodles he delivers,, and that’s pretty much it!! His design is pretty minimalistic because I had the least big ideas for him :3

Red Son )) Black + Chinese !! I gave her lots of piercings as well, but I made them silver and black to contrast Mei’s gold! There’s a whole bunch of them he’s saur pretty !! He has some scars on his hands :(( I wanna also shade in his arms to give him more like,,, burns?? From the impact of the Samadhi Fire?? That almost look like magma? Like the dark fade that a lot of great artists do (one of them being @mariiilume to follow them NOOOOWWWW) except BRIGHT RED…well I don’t wanna describe that any longer because I didn’t even draw it HA UUUUH…Gave her bull ears and cute teeth !! He also has some cute square black nails!! Plus I lengthened their hair. They have such majestic hair it deserves to shine.

[tekumaniac311]

Rider Rescue: Briefing.

This chapter takes place right where the Prologue left off, After Dogday and his entire Space Rider squadron had been captured by the cult.

At a different Space Rider ship, black and red in colour. In the mess hall eight Riders were having supper together, like Dogdays squad, this one consisted of four males and four females.

A large brown mammoth was conversing with a small, brown furred, ring tailed lemur. The little lemur was trying not to laugh at whatever the huge mammoth was saying, sitting also nearby was a brown wolverine eating..rather crudely. Nearby also was a hybrid fox with indigo fur, finishing her supper with a simple drink of soda.

On the other side of the table was a white, rather attractive looking secretary bird with violet feathers, makeup and a mole under her left eye, she was finishing calmly eating her food. Alongside was an pink furred snow leopard sipping her soda, she looked eager to get to training or playing a game after eating. Then calmly slurping a bowl of nicely cooked noodles was a black dragon with a silver ponytail hairstyle, his tail and wings settled calmly. Finally was a dog with colors similar to Dogdays but darker, he even looked younger and finished eating his supper.

"Masterpiece as always, Mammoth." The dog spoke. The mammoth gave a gesture, "I always aim to please, Captain." She chuckled.

Before any further word could be spoke, Poppy's hologram appeared, she looked serious and stern after what had happened just a few minutes ago.

"Poppy!" Prettybird spoke smiling. "How are you?"

"Not too well, Pretty." Poppy explained before turning to the captain of the team, Dogbite. "Pop, what can we do for you?" He spoke with a smirk.

"Well, ahem. Dogbite, you and your team have been activated for a most urgent rescue mission." She said sternly. "Rescue mission? What happened?" Drago spoke sternly.

Here goes...Poppy thought. "Just a few minutes ago, Captain Dogday Solaris and his entire squadron have been captured and their ship hijacked by the cult."

Dogbite's eyes widened when he heard the name, a huge smug smile crept onto his lips "Pop! I wanna thank you personally for lending us with this job! This is great! If you weren't an android or a hologram, I'd kiss ya!" Drago meanwhile facepalmed, his captains cockiness was definitely peaking with this news.

"Well..you and your crew were the closest from Dogdays at this moment. THAT'S pretty much why I'm giving you folks the mission." The android explained. "He's your big brother, right?" Lean Lemur piped in.

"Correct, Lemur." Dogbite spoke "I've been dying to see what he's been doing lately, and I wonder what kind of crew he's got."

Drago Kitano stood up from the chair and glared "We'd better get to finding them fast, for each second their in the cults clutches, there is no telling what'll be happening." Poppy nodded, relieved that at least this crew was serious about the situation, save for their own CAPTAIN. "I've already updated your ships computer with the coordinates to Dogday's ship so finding where their landing won't be hard, rescue Dogday and his squad, do whatever it takes." She finished, ending the transmission.

"Let's roll!" Leopardaisy piped in, the team nodded and headed for the bridge, as Dogbite got into the pilot seat, he smirked to himself.

"Okay big bro, i'm on my way. Mammoth! You tracking their ship?" He asked. The large brown mammoth nodded, interfacing with the ships radar systems "Got a signal, tracked it to a planet called Xuacury." She told Dogbite.

"Anything to note?" Dogbite asked as he set course. "Relatively low cult activity, but i've tracked the ship to an abandoned town in the planet's desert."

"Sounds just like their style." Drago said crossing his arms. "Been aching to smash a few more cultists up." Berserkerine said, cracking his neck to the side.

Meanwhile, on Xuacury.

Dogday woke up blinking his eyes, it was too dark to see anything. All he could feel was that his arms were strung up high and far apart like a cross. "G..guys..Guys!" He tried to move but he couldn’t, the straps holding his arms up were too strong.

“Cap? What’s going on?!” Squeaked Piggy as she struggled, she along with the other 6 riders were tied up and hanging from the ceiling like Dodgday was, but with their arms tied around their backs instead. And for Crafty, her legs were also tied up! “Can anyone move??” Bubba asked, each rider replied with one word: “No.”

“Hmm? Oh! They are awake! If some of you would be so kind to remove their masks, please.” Said a sinister voice. A few cultists walked up and remove the masks covering each of the Riders faces, Dogday shook his head and looked around, it looked like he and his squad were in some abandoned building. The riders looked at each other and then looked ahead.

“Welcome, Space Riders! To your inevitable ritual of JOY!!” Boomed the high priest, flourishing his arms wide as the crowd of cultists behind him laughed and cheered maniacally.

“……We’re in trouble.” Bobby said with a sarcastic smile.

TO BE CONTINUED

Space Riders belong to @onyxonline

Rider OCS by me.

[lunareclipse39]

The Princes' Whore

Finally, Aemond and Daemon agree on one thing: their desire and obsession to conquer Princess Sameria Martell, the Dornish beauty with rumored Valyrian descent, and a unique gift.

Warning: Smut, violence, swearing and graphic descriptions

Aemond

This is single-handedly the worst day of my life. I am to marry, not to my beautiful little sister Alyonna, but to a Dornish princess by the name of Sameria. She is the niece of Prince Qoran Martell, and daughter of Aran Martell, younger brother of Prince Qoran. I have never seen this princess, though they say Dornish women are renowned for their beauty, and their promiscuity.

"The Princess Sameria is almost here, Aemond. Be kind, be courteous, and attentive." My mother spoke, as we stood in the courtyard of the Red Keep, waiting for this Dornish girl to arrive.

I sighed. "Why am I even to marry her, anyway? Dorne has declared neutrality, so I do not see why this marriage is necessary."

"This marriage is not to secure an alliance, but rather to maintain the Martells' neutrality, to keep them from changing their minds and joining the war, and joining Rhaenyra's side." My mother explained.

I rolled my eyes. A guard screamed, "Princess Sameria of Dorne has arrived! Open the gates!"

The large, iron gates creaked open, as an elaborate carriage carried by the famous Dornish sand steeds marched through, more sand steeds riding behind. My poor sister Alyonna would have wanted to see this, but she is busy with her history lessons with her septa, and I am glad she is. I do not want her to see me court this princess.

The carriage came to a stop, the sand steeds, in all their bright white splendor, neighing at the sudden halt. A knight of House Martell opened the carriage's door, and held out his hand for the princess I presume. A golden tan hand grasped the hand of the knight, and a young woman carefully stepped out, dressed in a dark red gown embroidered in copper, and as her gaze lifted I nearly gasped. Princess Sameria was indeed an exotic beauty, her dark chocolate curls framing her heart-shaped face and bringing out her sapphire eyes.

"Princess Sameria of House Martell, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." My mother smiled.

"My Dowager Queen, I thank you and King Aegon for your welcome." The princess spoke, her voice velvety, and curtsied.

"This is my son, your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen." My mother introduced.

"My Prince." The princess curtsied.

I offered her a smile. "My Princess. The rumors of your beauty do not do you justice." I flattered her, not an ounce of sincerity in my words, but hopefully she'd be foolish enough to believe them.

The princess turned pink, and smiled. "Thank you, my Prince."

I offered her my arm, her orange fragrance reaching my nostrils. Yes, Dorne, especially Sunspear, is quite known for producing blood oranges. I led her inside the Keep, her eyes admiring her surroundings.

Sameria

I am to marry Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of the late King Viserys I Targaryen, brother to King Aegon II, although who truly rules the Seven Kingdoms is being debated, or more like warred, between two factions of House Targaryen, known as the Greens, King Aegon's faction, and the Blacks, Queen Rhaenyra's faction. It is all so stupid. Personally I do not care for this war, as does the rest of Dorne, so you may be wondering why I am marrying Prince Aemond.

My father insists we have the blood of Old Valyria in our veins, that we are descended from the extinct House Belaerys of the Valyrian Freehold, and that I must marry into our ancestry through the Targaryens, and perhaps even claim a dragon of my own. My father is crazy, but so am I for agreeing to this. I believe my father, strangely enough, and both of us speak High Valyrian fluently, as well as Dothraki, due to our many travels to Essos, where both languages are spoken in just about every city, but especially the Free Cities: Myr, Volantis, and Lys. Volantis is my favorite.

I was on my way to King's Landing to meet my betrothed, and we were almost there. I was accompanied by my cousin, Aliandra, whom I like to call the little fireball, my older sister Nerissa, and my brother, Ardan.

"I hear Prince Aemond caused the war." Aliandra spoke.

"How so?" I raised my eyebrow.

"They say he killed his nephew, the Prince Lucerys Velaryon." Aliandra gushed.

I snorted. "Please."

"No, she's right." Nerissa chimed in. "I heard the same rumors. Aemond chased Lucerys on his dragon through the skies of Storm's End, trying to get him to pay for taking his eye out."

"What a gruesome tale." I said, horrified.

"But no less true, or so they say. Honestly I do not blame Aemond." Aliandra shrugged.

"Killing Prince Lucerys was excessive, don't you think?" Nerissa gulped.

"Maybe, but I also did hear he never got punished, so Aemond's anger is understandable." Aliandra shrugged again.

We suddenly stopped, and I heard someone announce our arrival, followed by the sound of gates creaking open.

"We're here!" Aliandra squealed.

The carriage moved again, then stopped, and the horses neighed. One of our guards opened the door, beckoning me to step out. I grasped onto his hand and carefully stepped out of the carriage onto the courtyard of the famous Red Keep. I looked around, then my eyes met those of Prince Aemond, my would-be husband. He is terrifyingly handsome, the eye patch covering his wound making him look all the more intimidating.

Dowager Queen Alicent greeted me warmly, and introduced me to Aemond, who was rather cold but polite. He complimented my beauty, and I thanked him. I took his arm as he led me inside the Keep, while Dowager Queen Alicent introduced herself to my party, and welcomed them. They'd be staying with me for tonight, but would leave tomorrow afternoon.

"Is this your first time in King's Landing, my Lady?" Aemond asked.

"No, but it is in the Keep." I nodded.

"Do you like King's Landing?"

"I do, actually. Not more than Sunspear, but I do like it. It has its charm." I shrugged.

"And what is its charm?" Aemond wondered.

"It's lively, the people are kind, and there's a fair amount of entertainment." I said.

"Yes, and it's also filthy, especially Flea Bottom, and a lot of the people are dirty." Aemond scrunched his nose in disgust.

I gulped. "Well, you can't really blame the poor for not having access to cleanliness."

Aemond scoffed, about to retort, but that is when his demeanor changed suddenly. His face brightened, a wide grin stretching across his lips. I followed his gaze to a beautiful young girl, no older than thirteen, with wispy silvery white hair, round, bright violet eyes, her royal blue and gold-embroidered gown billowing with her as she ran towards Aemond, enveloping him in a hug.

"Aly!" Aemond purred, as Aly pulled away, turning to me.

"This is my betrothed." Aemond tightened, and swallowed. "Sameria Martell, a princess of Dorne. My Lady, this is Alyonna, or Aly, my little sister." Aemond introduced.

"It is so nice to finally make your acquaintance, princess. Word of you has gone around and no one can shut up." Alyonna gushed, beaming.

I grinned. "It is nice to meet you too, my Lady."

"Princess." Aemond corrected.

"It's alright. I am a lady, dear brother." Alyonna giggled.

"Apologies, princess." I blushed.

"No need to apologize. My brother is simply uptight." Alyonna teased.

"Am I?" Aemond frowned.

"Yes." Alyonna mocked. "Are you showing her around the Keep?"

"Indeed, sweet sister. She is to be my wife so she must know her new home. Where's Aerys, anyway?" Aemond asked.

"Training with Ser Criston." Alyonna shrugged.

"I see." Aemond turned to me. "Aerys is the youngest brother, and twin to Aly here."

"I look forward to meeting the rest of your family, my Prince." I nodded.

"Right. Aly, I will finish showing the Red Keep to Lady Sameria here. I shall see you at the banquet."

Aly smiled and nodded, running off. "She is lovely." I spoke.

"Yes, she is." Aemond nodded.

I was shown the dining hall, the banquet hall, the library, the armory, and of course, the throne room. The Iron Throne loomed menacingly in the distance, making me gulp. I dislike the sight of it. Such thing is the source of many tragedies and suffering, like right now.

Aemond proceeded to showing me his late father's chambers, where a model of clay about the Valyrian Freehold stood on a mahogany desk, making me beam.

"This is amazing! Who made this?" I wondered.

"My father, before he got sick and died." Aemond said bitterly.

"Oh. I am sorry." I looked down.

"Don't be." Aemond shook his head.

I see Aemond disliked his father, and thought it best not to ask questions. Not now anyway. I nodded. "Your father was quite a skilled potter. These figurines are very detailed."

"Yes. If only his skill at pottery had transcended into his reign, then perhaps we wouldn't be in this mess." Aemond spat.

"I take it you do not like your father." I mumbled.

"You're wrong. I hated him." Aemond shrugged.

This is getting uncomfortable. "I am sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It is a good thing he is dead. He preferred to be shut inside here tending to his figurines and obsessing over Old Valyria than to his duties to the realm." Aemond said bitterly.

"He would have gotten along with my father then." I shrugged. "My father is also obsessed with Old Valyria, even claims our line is descended of Valyrian blood, the reason he agreed to our marriage in the first place. Right now though, his obsession has transpired to the Empire of the Dawn."

"And do you believe it? That you have the blood of Old Valyria?" Aemond mused.

"Not really, no." I admitted.

"And why did you agree to the marriage?" Aemond asked.

"Well, I am a highborn lady. I was bound to marry sooner or later." I said simply.

"You could have married a Dornish lord, or any lord." Aemond crossed his arms.

"Yes, but why have a lord when you can have a prince?" I winked.

Aemond did not return my grin, but his eyes did shine with amusement.

"Shall we? I will show you my chambers, then yours." Aemond extended his hand.

I nodded. Aemond's chambers were dimly lit, the decor quite dark and solemn, but he did have a beautiful view of the capital. We then stopped in front of a jade green door.

"These used to be Rhaenyra's chambers, but now they are yours. I do think you'll find them spacious and accommodating enough." Aemond said, pushing the door open to reveal a most spacious room indeed, furnished with a bed big enough for two people, the covers and decorative pillows emerald green in color with gold embroidery. The headrest and bedposts were made of dark oak, and I did have a large, arched window overlooking the gardens and the sea in the distance. My trunks had already been brought inside, making me smile. This was the room planned for me all along.

"Well, this marks the end of our tour. Do get ready for your welcome banquet, my Lady." Aemond kissed my hand and dismissed himself.

I blushed, and smiled. Perhaps marriage will not be so bad. Aemond may be cold and stern, but I believe a softer, more caring side of him lies beneath, shown towards his sister earlier. In time he shall show me the same side.

I opened my trunks, which were overflowing with my belongings. I will miss Dorne, and Sunspear, but I understand I am a highborn lady with noble duties, one of those duties being marriage, and later, heirs. I gulped. I am not sure I want children yet. I brought many dresses and gowns with me, as well as shoes, undergarments, and jewelry. A knock on the door startled me, and I yelled "come in!".

Nerissa stepped inside, marveling at the room. "You were given quite the room, sister."

"I know." I shrugged, choosing a gown for the banquet tonight.

"I shall help you get ready." Nerissa offered.

I smiled. "Of course."

I wore a cobalt blue gown, held by a copper necklace as the rest of the fabric flowed down, reaching my ankles. Nerissa slid two copper, snake-like bracelets up into each one of my arms, and then I slid my feet into copper sandals. She led me to the vanity, as I sat down and she brushed my hair, letting it down and adorning it with a wreath of sun roses, a flower unique to Dorne, but specifically Sunspear. Sun roses are gold, dark pink, and orange-hued, creating a dance of sunset colors in them. They are beautiful, and smell so nice.

Nerissa bathed me in blood orange mist, and I was ready.

"You look beautiful." Nerissa smiled.

"Thank you, sister."

Aemond

The banquet was ready, as all of us gathered in the dining hall, waiting for the princess Sameria to arrive. She did after a little while, wearing a most revealing dress that complimented her sapphire gaze. I see Dornish fashions are of a... never mind. Sameria will have to start dressing more modestly, and more like a princess and not a whore from the bowels of the capital.

My brother greeted Sameria, a brazen smile on his lips and lust shining in his eyes. Of course my brother will lust after the Dornish princess. He better keep his hands to himself and not humiliate me in public.

"Tonight we welcome the Princess Sameria Martell, as she will join our family soon by marrying my brother, Prince Aemond. May your union be one of love and laughter, and bring forth many heirs." My brother joked, making the others laugh.

"Let us toast to their union, and of course, to the princess." My brother raised his cup.

We all followed suit, drinking and setting our cups down.

"I thank you, King Aegon, for your most warm welcome. I am counting the days I pledge my love for Prince Aemond in sight of the gods, and that I finally join your beautiful family." Sameria smiled, turning to me.

I smiled back, not looking forward to our wedding day at all, and glanced at Alyonna. My beautiful, darling, sweet sister, whom my heart beats for. I have protected her since she was small, she has been my constant companion, she is meant for me, and I for her, and I would sooner burn every last bit of this world than see her marry another man. I will never forgive my mother for forcing me into this marriage. She knows of my feelings towards Alyonna, but dismissed me and insisted two sibling marriages cannot happen at once, due to fear of the gods. Fuck the gods I say.

The feast commenced, and I watched Sameria, who sat in front of me, chat with her cousin animatedly. Mother blames me for starting this war, and it is the true reason she is punishing me by forcing me to marry the Dornish girl. Her excuse of not wanting to anger the Seven is nothing but a farce. I still say fuck the gods. Nobody has ever been punished by them for misbehaving. They certainly didn't punish Lucerys for taking out my eye. No, I had to do the punishing myself.

Musicians came in, carrying lutes and a harp with them. My brother stood up as soon as music started playing, and he held his hand out to Helaena, who gleefully accepted. My mother and grandsire Otto watched them with amusement, and knowing how much Aly loves to dance, I stood up from my seat and offered her my hand.

"Care to dance, sweet sister?" I asked.

"Absolutely." She grinned, taking my hand as I led her near Aegon and Helaena.

We danced, slowly at first, then increased our speed a little. The music came to an end, and we all cheered.

"My sister here is an exceptional dancer. Sameria, show them. Go on." Nerissa beckoned at her sister, who blushed deeply and shook her head.

"Don't get all shy now. You dance very well and you know it." Nerissa nudged her sister, who sighed and nodded, standing up.

Alyonna went back to her seat as I hesitantly offered my hand to Sameria. The music resumed and we started dancing. Sameria was in fact a great dancer, moving along the music as though she could feel it, leaving me to look stupid alongside her. I am just not a dancer, only with Aly am I one.

The music stopped again, and everyone cheered for us. "Any other talents we might know in your possession, my Lady?" My brother wondered.

"Yes, your Grace. I am an accomplished cook, even more so than dancing." Sameria replied.

Impressed eyes went about, but mine were more curious. A noblewoman who cooks is certainly unusual. Helaena stood up from her seat, turning to Aly.

"Aly, dearest, you should bless us with your singing tonight. The princess Sameria and her companions would love to listen to you sing."

I smiled. Alyonna has the most beautiful, ethereal voice there is, and radiates the purest, most goddess-like energy when she sings. Aly stood up, and whispered something to the musicians, who nodded. 'Maiden, Mother, Crone' started playing from the stringed instruments of the musicians, soon joined by my sister's sweet, melodic voice. I closed my eyes, smiling. I could listen to her sing all day.

Aly finished singing, as all of us broke into applause. I stood up and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

"That was beautiful." Mother smiled.

"Your voice is a gift from the Seven themselves, darling." Grandsire complimented.

"Indeed it is." I agreed.

Sameria

After the feast, or banquet, was over, we all headed to our respective chambers for bedtime. As I walked towards mine, I heard the muffled voices of King Aegon and Aemond in the throne room. With my curiosity peaked, I hid behind a pillar, spotting King Aegon lounging on the Iron Throne, with Aemond sitting next to him in the seat of the Hand.

"Why are you even complaining? She's beautiful, and exotic." Aegon slurred, clearly drunk.

"I know she's beautiful, and exotic, but no woman compares to my Aly. She is a goddess personified, and meant to be mine." Aemond said, playing with the tips of his hair.

My eyes widened in horror, and a strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I had heard of the Targaryens' incestous practices, but to hear it firsthand... disgust welled up inside me.

Aegon laughed. "Brother, please. Marrying sisters is boring and devoid of life. Just look at me and Helaena."

"That is because you never make an effort to bond with our sister, your Grace." Aemond said sarcastically. "I bet if you did your marriage would be much different, and enjoyable. The bond Aly and I have is different, indescribable, but feels like home."

"You're being stupid, and ungrateful. What I'd give to have such an exotic woman as my wife." Aegon scoffed.

"If you like her so much you marry her." Aemond retorted.

"I would if I wasn't married to Helaena." Aegon shrugged.

"Besides, Dornish women are known to, you know, have sexual adventures before marriage." Aemond crossed his arms.

Aegon grinned. "Even better! You get a woman with experience. I bet the princess Sameria is a wild cat in bed." He winked.

I nearly gagged, and clenched my fists. I was listening to the king, or king presumptive, and his brother, my betrothed, say disgusting things about me. Even worse, my would-be husband was in love with his sister.

[softdykellie]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ motion sickness part ii | ellie w.

previous part here | next part here soon

PAIRING: modern!ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY: having grown up together, everyone knew eachother in jackson. when a brooding newcomer owner to a tattoo shop comes along apparently charming her friendly florist neighbor things seem to take a turn.

WARNING: alternative universe! purposefully all lower case. multiple part series. not a very eventful beginning as ellie’s relationship with reader is slow burn but it will start evolving after this one seriously trust me!

WORD COUNT: 632

ellie. you tasted her name on your tongue and melted into the feeling, flushed. dina had certainly manifested her wishes into fruition, you thought. stared at the girl for way too long, getting familiar with her features and vacant gaze towards the alcohol filled shelves against the main bar wall, freckles like starry war paint, eyebrow scar, pale green iris, peach pink lips, auburn hair gently brushing her shoulder at length. breathtaking, you immediately named the feeling, but she looked worn, tossed around. you blamed it on the bruised eye, caught onto sky grey vibes.

a silly game blossomed into your heart years ago, the inspiration for your flower shop really: how everyone you meet could be described by the floral language. dina thought hers too common, but it was your favorite, a daisy, standing for loyal love and “i’ll never tell”. jesse, a white jasmin, sweet love, amiability. even abby, coriander. you did not know the girl at all, but you saw red carnations grow behind her in the way spiritualists would claim to see auras. red carnations; “my heart aches”.

“flower shop girl, yes, that’d be me”

“cute” she mumbled sipping on the beer dina had given her before promptly pretending to be busy elsewhere though noticebly eavesdropping.

“you’ve got a lot of tattoos on you” jesse pointed matter of factly, earning a chuckle “perks of the job?”

“the job” ellie repeated his words in light humor as if minimizing her own career with the sound “yeah, i guess. you want one?”

“fuck, yeah! maybe a dragon up my back or or you know a snake, i don’t know, what do you usually draw?”

“pretty things” she answered before taking you off guard with a head movement that pointed you out amongst them all “like her” she twisted her body around to meet your face “what would you get, flower girl? roses?”

“the sun” you answered “what does that say about me?”

ellie smiled a weak smile, raising the sleeve of her grey t-shirt to expose a beaming sun by her bicep, detailed sad expression in black ink across its center. you took notice of everything. ferns and a moth grew from her hand to the very end of her forearm and covered scars you could only assume to have been self inflicted. a sword pierced through the spare space of skin next to a phoenix and finally angel wings alongside a well hidden initial: J. you wouldn’t ask, but you wanted to.

“trying to figure that out myself”

you hadn’t noticed when abby left, only that she was gone when a couple dollars slipped past you towards the ground from the countertops, extra tips for dina. you wanted her extroverted ways to carry the conversation, ask the newcomer about the altercation, but she seemed to enjoy playing dutiful dedicated owner more. small talk failed you, and ellie was uninterested.

you planned out your next meeting in your head, showing up with cookies as they do in the movies, catching glimpses of her sketches on the wall, giving them backstories to fill the gaps. it wasn’t so strange to be eager as you were taking into consideration how rare these opportunities had presented themselves: you never left jackson, not even on vacation. the world was meant to turn on its axis but you were destined to stay still, an agoraphobia rooted into your veins like movement would burst your chest open, bloody and broken. the flowers had been a therapist’s idea: to take care of something innocent as a purpose, exist outside the shell of a body you painfully cared for in pure obligation. your personal garden arsenal though, had meaning. yellow tulips, that’s what you were. the flower for unrequited love. the one tattooed by ellie’s hipbone you were yet to see.

[houseofpendragons]

New Ideas for HOTD Rhaenyra Fashion pt.7

First time I’m doing one of adult Rhaenyra’s costumes, and we’re starting off with the one I hateeee the most of all:

I just, it’s so-it’s so, wtf is this shit?!?!?

I get it’s a sort of call back go her of outfits when she was younger but bruh😶 you’re telling me this is what she chose. Even her younger outfits were better than that. And I get it, I get it, it’s supposed to be maternity wear but reminder that this:

Is what Alicent wore when pregnant with Helaena. And this is what Rhaenyra wore right after the birth:

Both are hella fire, stunning. The dress Rhaenyra’s wearing is very Velaryon esque, slowly, loose, a sort of beached of Greece type beauty. Now she can still wear Targaryen colors, but she can also still have some representation of her Velaryon marriage (as we really tryna post a happy front so no one thinks about daddy Harwin😘)

So I think she’s still be wearing something similar, but perhaps representing both family’s. This being an under dress:

With it blue threading running through the red it could easily be designed a scales.

I’d also add an open fronted petticoat so that she could keep her arms warm and protect her belly or breasts if she feels the need as a woman whom has freshly given birth.

I’d use these three for design reference:

Taking the pattern from the red gown, the design of the green gown w/ the white designs, and then the golden medallion chains binding them together from the third design.

I’d change the color of the petticoat to a Targaryen black, and trade the white designs for gold ones more similar to the ones we on her blue dress. As you can see the zigzagging in the first picture of the three is reminiscent of the blue threads on the red dress meant to be worn under so honestly those could just be changed to gold. Keeping the golden belt with the rubies in the second picture, I’d disregard the highest neck piece with the laces in the front. I’d keep the spacing of the open front in the third picture, turning the bands of the front to match the fabric of the underdress. The gold on either side of the bands could be formed into dragons heads (perhaps reminiscent of Syrax’s head if ur feeling fancy). Lastly, I think I would make the inside fabric of the petticoat a velaryon blue, replacing the yellowish color we see on the interior of the dress in the third picture.

Sorry if that was confusing, I might’ve got a little too descriptive to show you what going on in my mind 😭

As for her Jewelry, I just saw a Reddit post made before hotd came out about the color of Joffrey and Jace’s dragons. They were actually correct for the most part about Vermax (Jace’s dragon) so I have faith in their theory that Tyraxes (Joffrey’s dragon) is red & black or something similar.

(If you want to read their theory about how the colors of the dragons belonging to Rhaenyra’s first three sons reflect the Conquerors original three dragons and Dany’s three dragons check it out on Reddit u/OneirosDrakontos)

That being said I’d want to reflect his hatchling, or at least egg on her jewelry. (Bc I also saw someone say Rhaenyra wears a ring for everyone of her three sons @atopcat) Maybe it’d be cute if she did something to reflect their future dragons after their birth with her jewelry as well.

Red and black for Tyraxes, gold for the ring she wears for him:

Her hair is more of a simpler extent, as I feel like though time hasn’t calmed down her fashionista tastes to an extreme extent, she’s more concerned about her newborn baby than her hair right now.

Something like this, but instead make it a half-do w/ hair still hanging free from any binds/braids:

Replace the pink ribbon and bow with two Velaryon Blue colored bands with gold design embroidered onto it, golden thread braided at the edges of the fabric. Perhaps the bow could be replaced with a golden three headed dragon pin stick through the braid so it appears as if mini dragons heads are roaring at those walking behind her.

[inkstainedheartbeats]

So I already posted like a little snippet of this but!

What if you had soul dragons. Kinda like daemon from His Dark Materials in that they’re an extension of you. They’re your ‘soul’ given mortal form. Granted they sapient if unable to communicate to anyone other than their person and other dragon.

There is a lot of hearsay about what the sex of your dragon means about the person. About your sexuality. It tends to be very binary and nowhere near the scoop of reality but that people for you.

When Steve was born two dragons hatched. A boy and a girl. They’re names are Rose and Sage. Rose is a soft brown with pink wings while Sage is a dark green with bright green wings. Mr Harrington is not please with the dual dragons or their colors. He’s even less pleased when his son hits his second puberty and matures into an Omega.

When Eddie is born a single dragon hatches. Ozzy. Black with red wings. Very bitey. Loathes Frankie Munson with every little bone in his body. Adores Mrs Munson until she dies. Gets along swimmingly with Wayne’s Dolly (a white dragon with grey wings who croons soft country music to her nephews in the night) when they’re left abandoned right before Eddie matures into a Beta.

A month before Starcourt Steve and Eddie meet outside of school, outside of the hierarchies and bullshit. It’s a club that’s more like a bar. Dark and heavily perfumed so no scent can be caught. Steve, questioning himself, questioning everything, finds comfort in letting someone, anyone take control of him. Likes not having to decide, like not being in charge, the one to blame if someone dies. He goes by Pretty Boy or just Boy and Eddie is Sir. And it’s bliss, even with the hiccup that is Starcourt.

Until Spring Break.

[thatfreshi]

"Yeah, Besties" (Uni AU P. 11)

tw - slight mention of abuse

You and Astarion proceed to spend all your free time together, which isn't much for him, but it's nice in between the stresses of life. You go from barely being friends to almost inseparable, studying in his dorm and talking about nonsense. There's plenty of times when he has to disappear for miscellaneous modeling things, which he still doesn't really talk about, but you don't mind.

It's been about a week and a half since Astarion got back from LA, and things have been getting much better for everyone. Academics are picking up, sports are starting, and your little group of, 'friends,' has started to somewhat get along, which is a big relief. Since the seven of you are still working on that damned public speaking project, you meet up on Saturday to start discussing the presentation, but of course, you don't actually end up doing that. Besides, who goes to Starbucks and actually ends up studying?

"Ugh! Tav, I told you it was going to be far too busy here on a Saturday."

You roll your eyes at your white-haired friend.

"We're not even staying here, we're going over to the park across the street. Cool it broody."

He mocks you and you elbow him in the arm, making sure to be gentle about it in case there's some other 'scrape' he hasn't told you about.

"Can the two of you stop flirting and decide what you want please?"

Lae'zel is impatient, especially when it comes to caffeine.

"This? This is not flirting, we're like besties."

You throw Astarion a smile, and he responds, almost reluctantly.

"Yeah, besties."

You hear Gale and Shadowheart giggle to themselves somewhere in the back of the group, but you're not sure what about. Probably some bullshit they always find funny that no one else seems to understand. After some group discussion, Karlach decides to pay for everyone's drink, because oddly enough she's never been in a Starbucks.

"I don't know, I've just never gone! Drink a lot of protein smoothies, ya know? Coffee isn't really my thing."

Shadow of course is wrapped around Karlach's buff arm, and here's where someone would say that thing about sapphics and move-in vans on second dates. Eventually you all make up your minds. You get an iced coffee, something basic for your still-waking brain. The rest of the orders go as follows:

Astarion gets a caffè mocha, but asks for double the espresso, which you soon find out is six shots. You know from texting him this morning that he didn't sleep last night, and you're honestly not sure how he lives off of the amount of caffeine he drinks.

Karlach gets the dragon drink because she thinks it sounds cool.

Shadowheart orders a pink drink, blended, and proceeds to deal with intense teasing from Wyll about her edgy exterior. She yells at him about how she just like strawberries, and the aesthetic of her drink has nothing to do with how cool and mysterious she is.

Wyll then orders a chai latte, admitting he's never actually had coffee before after he was scared off of it as a kid.

Gale, like the classic man he is, goes with the caramel macchiato, but makes sure to ask three times that they're using almond milk, making a big deal about how his stomach will not handle it well if it's actual milk.

Lae'zel gets straight-up black coffee, hot. That's it. She doesn't add sugar, creamer, not even a little flavor, just hot black coffee.

So the baristas get to work on your myriad of drinks. You go to ask Astarion something, but quickly get interrupted by a stranger tapping you on the shoulder.

"Sorry, I just wanted to say, you are absolutely gorgeous. Mother Nature blessed us the day she made you."

You turn around to see a rather tall and built man. Your cheeks can't help but fill with red at the sincerity of the compliment you've just been given.

"Thank you! See, you guys really should worship my looks more."

"I know this might be strange, but I'd be honored to take you out sometime. Here's my number, you don't have to text me if you don't want to, but I just couldn't pass up this opportunity. Oh, and I'm Halsin, a pleasure to meet you."

This Halsin character soon walks off, leaving you with a receipt he's written his number on.

"Wow, and I thought I was a gentleman."

Wyll is clearly shocked by the sudden turn of events.

"Seriously, Tav you have to text him! What a heart throb."

Shadow eggs on the flirting that just occurred.

"I don't know, should I? What if he's like a weirdo."

"Oh c'mon, he seems so sweet! You'd be stupid to not at least give him a chance."

There are murmurs of support for Karlach's statement. Soon, your drinks are done, and your ragtag group starts to leave the building.

"I mean, he was maybe a little forward. And the line about 'Mother Nature?' Did he not have anything better?"

"We get it Astarion, you think you're a master flirt. Not everyone is as lusty as you are."

You don't see it, but Astarion proceeds to give Gale a solid middle finger, and Gale matches him. As much as everyone's getting better at getting along, those two still have some trouble.

"I don't know, maybe I should text him. I mean what's the harm?"

"I don't know, the possibility that he could be a serial killer freak?"

"Astarion, he's not a serial killer. There is literally no way the guy that came up to us is capable of murdering anything."

Shadowheart takes a drink of her pulverized fruity beverage in confidence.

"Alright fine, but if darling Tav gets murdered, don't blame me!"

"I mean c'mon Astarion, you hate every guy I'm interested in on the apps anyways."

It's true, because you've sat there and scrolled through Hinge with him far too many times, and everyone you've ever come across has received negative remarks from your pale friend.

"Because they're all weird! Besides, I find making a real-life connection is much more enticing."

"Says the guy who has never been in an actual relationship."

"You shut it Gale! This mystery woman is the first person you've ever been with, so you have no room to talk. Besides, I'm sure I've bed more people than you've ever laid eyes upon."

"Woah, cat fight. Calm down, you might scratch an eye out."

Wyll's comment earns a few laughs. The group eventually gets to the park across the street, finding a large shady tree to sit under. Astarion makes some off-hand comment about how his pants are too nice to be grass-stained, but he ends up joining the rest of you anyway.

"Okay Tav, so how do we craft this message to the hot nature guy? Because honestly I'd climb him like a tree if I could, you're lucky."

Shadowheart scooches next to you in order to brainstorm.

"Oh, so we're still on this? Great. I'll be over here, not thinking about the wannabe nudist."

"Come on Astarion, you have to help too! Shadow's too thirsty. I need a voice of reason."

He rolls his eyes, only obliging because you're the one asking.

"Fine. We will craft a text to this Halsin fellow."

While the others check their student email and actually do productive things, the three of you sit over your phone, wondering what to send to this hunky stranger. After Shadow and Astarion argue quite a bit, you settle on a sweet but intrigued message.

"Are you guys sure I should hit send? I don't know, what if he was kidding? Or it's like some prank?"

"Tav, if it was a prank I'll kill him."

Shadowheart agrees.

"I second Astarion, I would also kill him."

"Okay, fine! I'm doing it!"

You're a little giddy, excited that a stranger so kindly hit on you. It could've been creepy and weird, but he was so nice. With a slight tap, you've sent the message, and your phone emits a little whoosh noise. Little did you know, Gale had started texting Astarion while listening to your conversation.

~~~

gale_eats_paint: you should tell them

wannabe.vamp: tell them what ??

gale_eats_paint: that you like them. i can see you gritting your teeth all the way from here

wannabe.vamp: fuck off gale, you don't know what you're talking about

gale_eats_paint: alright, if you insist on being secretive that's fine. but i wouldn't wait around too long. also your @ is lame. what are you, a middle schooler?

wannabe.vamp: i'm literally albino AND anemic it could not make more sense

~~~

"Oh god, he responded!"

Astarion perks up from his phone, giving Gale a look across the shaded patch of grass. The artist simply gives him a concerned, yet discreet eyebrow raise. You read out the message, which asks if you'd be free this evening for a botanical garden tour.

"Aw, that's adorable! Tell him you're free!"

Karlach is now scrunched up next to you and Shadow.

"Thanks guys, this is so exciting! And what a cute first date idea, bringing someone to a garden? Oh, and Astarion, you have to help me plan my outfit, pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Sure, since you asked so annoyingly, I will."

You go to wrap him in a grateful hug, which catches him severely off-guard.

"Thank you! You're the best Aster."

He almost questions the nickname, but decides to keep his mouth shut, because if this is the type of affection you're going to show him, he'll take it, no matter how small. Gale makes eye contact with him again though while you have him trapped in your warm embrace. While the two aren't particularly friendly, there's a sadness in Gale's eyes, knowing that Astarion won't speak up, no matter how much he wants to. Either way, he'll help you get ready for that date, even if it crushes him when you leave for the evening.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

This came into my mind like a couple of minutes ago and I needed to get it down before I forget it.

Twisted Wonderland Fairytale AU

You, Yuu, are a princess.

A special princess considering your existence is a mystery

One day the king and queen were on a trip with their son, Kalim, and their advisor’s son, Jamil. When they returned, a baby (Yuu) was inside the castle wandering on the tile floors.

No one knows how you got in.

No one knows who brought you here.

But you were there and were immediately added as part of the royal family.

Due to your mysterious circumstances, you grew up a sheltered child. Leaving you with your royal friends, Leona and Riddle, your noble friends, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Idia, and Ortho. Along with your mutual villager friends, Cater, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, Trey. But let’s not forget the kingdom celebrities like Vil and the famous hunter Rook.

Yeah, it’s a lot of people but a girl has limits

And so, you turned to a girl’s best friend: Books.

Books were your everything.

As you grew up, your tastes in books did as well.

You went from children’s books to material that would land you in an asylum for thinking a dark wizard or monster was attractive to spell books for every want.

It was quite the variety, but you kept the mature stuff carefully hidden.

But those books deluded shaped you

Now at the age of 17, you had the mindset of “Princesses just want to have fun!”

Plus you didn’t want to look at pictures of suitors anymore.

So, one night, during one of Kalim’s lavish parties for all, you snuck away through the hidden tunnels underneath the castle and went on your merry way into the woods.

Everything was going swell until you found the most beautiful valley of roses you’ve seen.

Blue, green, pink, red, and white. The valley had every color. You wanted to pick one, just one as a souvenir of your adventure.

You reached down and touched the flower’s stem.

You prick your finger on a thorn, and suddenly you hear a creature from the mountain above breathe like it’s been disturbed.

Your blood drops on the rose and it roars.

You run through the valley but it seems like the rose’s thorns are wrapping around your feet and ankles. Cutting them and letting more blood spill onto their petals and roots.

You slow down from the pain, and fall to the ground.

That’s when you see your attacker.

It’s a large dragon with purple and black coloring over its scales.

Its feet stomp over to you and a singular claw draws near your face.

Its eyes are green like emeralds and they stare at you like you’re prey.

The claw goes into the ground near your right cheek, and it makes a tight grip around your body.

You scream and scream in terror as you go higher into the sky, and eventually enter the mountain.

It puts you onto a pile of gold coins, and walks away before transforming into a tall, slender, and pale young man with horns.

“Someone finally came to see me! So, what’s the occasion? Is it another party?” The dragon rambles.

“Uh, I am so sorry. I just stumbled onto the valley,” You respond.

“Even better! Why don’t you stay for dinner?!” The dragon man proposes, holding your hands.

“Oh, sure. I suppose one meal with you couldn’t hurt,” You reply, making the dragon man ecstatic.

If only you knew the trouble you had just gotten into.

[akronus-writes]

The dragons eclipse chapter 2: Investigations into the unkown.

Hallowed knew that the Occult detective would take a while, and decided to requisition a room for which to work on the case from. returning to the front of the motel, He walked into the empty reception, its decor was a relic from the 80's, with dark oak display cabinets filled with old sports trophies flanking a large desk made of the same wood; the back of an old computer peeking up from behind the desk. approaching the golden bell next to the computer, Hallowed noticed a silver key attached to a black diamond shaped key charm with the golden number 15 emblazoned on the middle, sitting on a note next to the bell.

"we understand you might need a room to stay in while you investigate, and would happily give you one of our rooms for as long as you need." Hallowed spoke to himself, carefully picking the key up with his cybernetic hand and looking at the key, quickly scanning it with his cybernetic eye before walking off, looking for his room.

finding it on the other side of the motel, hallowed easily pushed the key into the lock and twisted with a satisfying click. pushing open the door and walking in, Hallowed found himself in a stock standard Motel room; with a king bed on the left of the room with a neat flowery quilt, two white pillows neatly placed side-by side under the wooden bed head, two oak bedside tables with pink lamps flanking the bed. on the other side of the room was a desk, a lone black lamp sitting on the far end of it.

closing the door behind him as he walked in, hallowed left the keys on the desk as he stretched, and began to undress. leaving his leather jacket draped over the chair under the desk, he left both his revolver and its holster, as well as his bandolier of specialized bullets on the desk. throwing the rest of his clothes, as well as the skull mask he normally wore onto the bed, he stepped into the bathroom. it was a small bathroom with only the bare necessities, its tiles were impressively clean for such an old building, a trait shared with the rest of the bathroom.

turning the knobs on the shower, Hallowed went to place his cybernetic hand below the stream of water before replacing it with his intact one. pleased with the temperature he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. instead of the pleasant feeling he was used to, he instead felt a strange emptiness, the water washing over his cybernetics not even registering to him, the reminder of his wounds removing and semblance of warmth the shower could bring.

turning the shower off once sufficiently clean, Hallowed dried himself with a towel before walking back into the living room and beginning to re-dress himself. as he went to pick up his shirt, he noticed his reflection in the full body mirror in the corner. he looked almost the same as always, the same short Brown hair, the same well-toned muscles, but different in some places. the entirety of his right arm, shoulder down, was replaced with a metal cybernetic, his right eye and parts of the face around it replaced with a similar metal, the eye replaced with a dull red visor. pulling the rest of his clothes on, Hallowed slowly picked up his Fedora and skull mask, hesitant to put them on.

stomaching his own hesitation, he placed them on, the skull mask hiding all of his face but the metal eye, its eerie red glow growing in intensity. turning back to the desk he saw a familiar part-cat warlock sitting on it, tail laying lazily next to the occult detective.

"Akronus," hallowed spoke, used to the occultists tendency to appear randomly.

"Hallowed" The occultist spoke, re-adjusting the black face mask they wore.

the tense silence hung in the air as Akronus dropped down to the floor, pulling back their long black hair and cat ears with a gloved hand, letting the streak of red fall to the front of his face. the two stared at each other for a moment, Akronus' red irises dulled by the red glow coming from Hallowed's cybernetic eyes.

"I see you've become more chaste," Hallowed noticed, observing the pants Akronus had swapped their usual booty shorts with.

"why, you wound me! I just thought these pants would help my transition from villain to vigilante. plus, I kept my signature sleeveless shirt! oh, and don't get me started on what I've been doing in my free time-" Akronus began.

"we don't have time for verbal recounts of your many supernatural partners, we need to investigate the disappearances," hallowed quickly interrupted, both wanting to stay on task and avoid the topic of Akronus' sex life.

"fineeeeeeeeee, what's the thing you need me for?" Akronus responded, annoyed at their allies seriousness.

"I found shadows in the alleyway behind the motel one of the disappearances happened in," Hallowed matter-of factly responded with.

"ok, so did it stick to your body, exist with the sun shining on it, or try to eat you?" Akronus asked, treating the topic as a normal occurence.

"existed with the sun shining on it, any ideas what it is?" Hallowed replied, drawing his notebook from his jacket.

"ah, possibly shadow demon residue, I'll go run some tests on it to confirm that," Akronus answered after a few seconds, leaning forward.

"good, you do that and I'll go look through the first victims room," Hallowed responded before walking out the door.

"on it!" Akronus walked off to where the strange shadow was.

on the other side of the Motel Hallowed approached the room the Mexican drifter had lived in, reaching a hand out to the door, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. Walking into the room, hallowed quickly noticed the first signs of something being off.

the bed looked like somebody had been sleeping in it, but was yet to get up, the quilt was laying on the mattress, messily covering most of the bed, and both the pillows and the mattress still had the imprint of what looked to be a 20-25 year old man of about 5"8 height.

on the other side of the room the lamp on the desk was unplugged, papers messily spread across the desk haphazardly with a duffle bag thrown up against it. approaching the bathroom, Hallowed opened the door to the bathroom to find a relatively normal shower, the only difference from his own bathroom being the soap and shampoo bottles, a common brand, most likely from a nearby store.

walking back to the papers, hallowed reached to turn on the room lights to illuminate the papers, only to find that flicking the switch did nothing. Crouching down and plugging in the lamp, he found it didn't turn on either.

Standing on the bed and puling the light bulb from its socket, Hallowed saw that it was completely fine. Rushing over to the lamp he carefully pulled out its bulb, and found the exact same was true with the lamp.

Activating the X-ray system of his cybernetic eye, Hallowed followed the trails of the wires that connected to both the power socket and the lights, looking for any breaks. Following the wires around the room, Hallowed found no discrepancies in the wiring for the room until the point that all of the wires in the room connected and began to join the rest of the motels power network, where a quick scan showed a strange energy radiating at the wires, seemingly blocking the electricity.

Quickly collecting the files on the desk, Hallowed put them in his jacket before standing up on the handrail, and pulling himself onto the roof. Carefully walking down one of the crevices of the valley like roof of slanted red tiles. Hallowed approached where the wires would be corresponding to the location of the roof.

Crouching down, Hallowed saw the source of the energy, a small square piece of white paper with a strange, almost runic symbol on it, radiating that energy. Picking the paper up and taking a photo of it with his eye as a precaution, Hallowed noticed through his eye that the Drifters room had gained power.

As he walked back to the edge of the roof, Hallowed heard the sounds of somebody running nearby. Pulling himself up onto the top of one of the peaks, Hallowed saw a figure wearingin a shadowy cloak holding a double-sided sword, face covered in shadows, standing on the nearby chimney.

"I'm guessing you aren't here for a chat?" Hallowed quipped as he drew his revolver. But as he did the figure leapt towards him at superhuman speeds, slashing at Hallowed with his sword mid-draw.

part 1 part 3

@f4y3w00d5 @gobodegoblin @monsterfucker-research-wizard @anyone else who likes my writing