#they mostly come in shadow dragon colors

[technicalgator]

what if the Shadow Dragons had a species based off their symbol. a species that resides mostly in Shadow Dragon territory, where they can be companions to fellow Shadow Dragons, a source of intel via spying, or the biggest headache for merchants and shopkeepers. what then.

[unetherian]

List of gear ideas because masks and tails are not the only ones that exist

[ PT : List of gear ideas because masks and tails aren't the only ones that exist]

Hi ! Here is a list of all the gears I know and can imagine, I will extend the list as my ideas come!

I mostly know gears for therians, so I apologize to those who don't recognize themselves in the list.

If you are looking for gift ideas for a therian friend, if you want to make yourself a new discreet gear to not attract attention, or on the contrary you are trying to find an original gear to express yourself freely in public, I recommend this list!

Happy reading!

Gears that can be worn :

⚝Mask

A classic: I'm talking about the masks that we see everywhere on YouTube shorts and TikTok. Simple and effective. Plus it's a beautiful art, it doesn't surprise me that many are fans of creating it!

⚝Muzzle-mask, beak-mask

These masks are much less known, but I dream of having one one day! It is a mask that covers the lower part of the face, to make it look like a snout or a beack. Unfortunately there aren't many tutorials (on YouTube anyway)

⚝Fur tails

Another great classic, I would pay good money to have one! It's so... perfect. But be careful! Don't buy tails anywhere! Most of the time they come from very cruel fur farms, so I advise you to watch the videos of Torn (therian territory) or PD on the subject to recognize an ethical or cruel tail.(These channels are on youtube) I swear to you that even dyed or so-called "fake" tails can be real and cruel... Be careful!

⚝Collar

Very effective if you are an alter/nonhuman whose type is domesticated ! And even if you are not, it can symbolize your nonhuman identity stuck/domesticated in a human world. There is a more discreet alternative, if you prefer: chokers! I have one that I made myself with black ribbon and a bracelet clasp. I sometimes add a pendant that looks like a small collar tag !

⚝muzzle

May have the same meaning as collar. It can be a good alternative to muzzle-masks which are quite rare.

⚝Fake ears

So cool and often so realistic...

⚝Gloves/mittens

This can make your human paw look like your type's paw!

⚝Paw socks

Very comfortable and very euphoric. I like it.

⚝Shoes

I've seen some amazing digigrade shoes before (to give you an idea of what it looks like, it's a heeled shoe without a heel) including shoes that look like clogs, but there are some for many different species !

I've also seen beings make lines on the white part of their converse to make it look like paws !!!

Some people buy or make shoes with a certain relief on the bottom so that they make tracks resembling the footprints of their type! (thanks to @sillysatyr for adding it to the list :3)

⚝Different shapes of pants

If your type is imposing, you can opt for cargo pants! For theriotypes with long and thin legs, but big hooves/paws, I recommend flared pants! (I think that's what it's called in English)

I have species dysphoria about not being as big and impressive as my theriotype, but since I started wearing cargo pants and other baggy pants, I feel more confident.

⚝Fake horns, fake antlers

Awwww those are so cute

⚝Wings

Attached to the arms for birds, on the back for dragons/insects!

It's one of the most gorgeous types of gears, and I imagine it's very effective.

⚝Contact lenses

To change the color of your eye, the shape of your pupil, etc.

⚝Makeup

I don't know if you can really consider this a gear but put a little eye shadow under the nose, a line in the little hollow that connects the nose to the mouth, and black lipstick on the upper lip can be very euphoric for some! Of course there are many other different makeup looks for all types... And don't forget, makeup is not for girls, it's for the skin✨

⚝Nails (claws)

I really like growing my nails out, cutting them into almond shapes so they look like claws. No need to grow them out a lot, or make them very prickly, do as you like!

You can also use fake nails!

⚝Paper claws

There are a lot of different tutorials on youtube, usually they are in origami, so I hope you like folding paper ^^'

⚝Legs/arms warmers

To feel like you have fur on your arms/legs, to protect myself from the cold. I made some out of wool, crocheted.

⚝Kigurumi !

A very comfortable and cute little costume, I would really like to have one! For those who don't know, it's a kind of very soft one-piece pajamas with a hood. On this hood there are sometimes animal ears, sometimes horns, at the back there is sometimes a tail, etc. there are some for many different species!

⚝Claw ring

Rings that look like claws. This is so cool! I'm going to buy some soon!

⚝Any accessory with a theta delta on it

Of course !

⚝Any accessory that represents your type

Of course too

⚝Pin's

There are some really cool pins on theriantropy, I recommend it.

⚝Mermaid tail

I've seen costumes like this before, I think the cetacean therians and mermaidkin might like it.

⚝Tattoo

Whether it's a temporary or permanent tattoo, it can be a great way to get closer to your type. Having your identity or the symbol of it on your body can be very pleasant! I even saw someone with his type's fur pattern tattooed on his shoulder.

I just want to clarify that if you want to get a permanent tattoo, I advise you to think carefully about the location, the shape, etc. to be sure.

⚝Sweatshirts/hats with animal ears/horns/antlers on them!

It's very "normal-like", and it can be very reassuring to feel it on your head.

⚝Deer antlers (in the form of a headband)

Very cute! (credits to @zombi-teeth who suggested it to me in the comments ;3)

Other gears:

⚝Objects that remind you of your habitat as your type

To recreate the atmosphere of your habitat in your house/room!

⚝Figurine of your type

It's funny to have a minature yourself

⚝Blanket whose texture reminds you of your type's fur

Very comforting

⚝Feathers!

I have a collection of feathers at home, I'm not a bird therian but it gives me a "predatory pleasure" to have a piece of prey as a trophy at home! (Without harming an animal, of course! I pick up these feathers from the ground)

⚝Stickers

I will probably give a tutorial later on how to create your own stickers, I will also make drawings to cut out to transform into stickers.

⚝Drawings, paintings, etc. of your type

Art is a great way to express yourself!

⚝A mineral/crystal that is associated with your type

In many cultures, stones are associated with animals. Some even use them for meditation.

Did you know that amber is prehistoric tree resin that has hardened over time? I think this fun fact will please paleotherians ;3

⚝A book about your type or its habitat

Read up on your own species to learn more about yourself.

⚝A prey of your type in plush form!

To hunt or nibble in we get bored.

⚝An object that diffuses the scent of your type's habitat

It could be an essential oil diffuser, a potpourri, or just anything that smells like the forest, for example.

⚝ A Tamagotchi

It's a small virtual animal/creature that you have to take care of. There are many different characters, you will surely find one of the species of your type ! This little retro item can really please anyone who feels lonely as an animal in human society.

⚝A chewable stim toy

For those who have shifts/instincts about chewing/biting things!

⚝A whistle that reproduces the sounds of your type!

I have already seen some very pretty ones in wood for example, they can also be suitable as decorative objects! (credits again to @zombi-teeth who gave me the idea)

Here are all the ideas I have right now, don't forget I'll add more later, there are sooo many different types of gears!

Have a nice day!

[orcusnoir]

More Chain "weirdness" because, honestly, these Links are living anomalies

Time: He knows the time. Exactly. Always, if you ask, you'll get the answer down to the second. (A common headcanon)

Stal monsters are absolutely terrified of him. They'll attack if other Links are around or if backed into a corner. But out in the open? They scatter. The Stal monsters can sense something is just wrong with Time. Maybe it's the Fierce Deity that still lingers within him.

Or maybe, just maybe.

They know what happens to him.

Even his own weapons are anomalies. Wild tried to take a picture of the Gilded Sword for the Compendium, and the Slate crashed.

The magical operating system of the Sheikah Slate hard crashed and, when rebooted, displayed only one line when the image of the Gilded Sword was selected.

"Error: Temporal Anomaly detected"

The image itself could not be displayed.

Twilight: Mirrors will very, very briefly show an image of a wolf whenever the Rancher stares into one.

Goats and other farm animals will always approach Twilight.

The Captain joked that the animals can sense that Twilight worked on a farm and is very good at it.

But do they sense that? Or something more?

Wind: Ever since getting the Phantom Sword, the Sailor's perception of time can randomly slow. The way he describes it reminds Wild of his Flurry Rush, but Wind can't control when it happens. It just does.

Four: The Smithy has a similar effect when it comes to reflections, but his mostly appears in pools of "magic" water, such as the water found around the Great Fairies in Wild's Hyrule.

Whenever he stares into such waters, he doesn't see his reflection, only the Colors staring back.

This also applies to pure silver. Which is why Four went from making silverware to making weapons.

Legend: The Vet has an uncanny ability to just know what magic type something is by just looking at it. And it's not just from experience

If the Vet were to ever face the Gloom, he'd know it's from Ganon without even knowing that Ganon was back.

Hyrule: No matter what village the Chain travels to. Everyone there just recognizes Rule, but can't explain why. Even if they've never met a Link before.

Warriors: His mere presence causes guards and the such to treat him and the Chain with the utmost respect and authority. The Captain could be in his pajamas, and it'd happen.

Wild: People, outside of those closest to him, will just forget his face entirely. Distant friends take a second or two before realizing that they're looking at the Champion.

Sky: The Divine Dragons, if visible, will just follow him. The breeze by him is always comfortable.

The shadows underneath him display a different figure at sunset. One that wears a pauldron on his right arm. None of the Links wears a lone pauldron besides the Captain.

Sky knows who the shadow is.

He was the first to be reincarnated after all.

[thegnomelord]

I love your monster au so much. It makes the monsterlover/fucker in me real happy. Sorry just wanted to share my appreciation.

I've been thinking too, how would you feel about writing a underwater sea creature reader? (No pressure but I hope this idea tickles your fancy so I'll infodump my ideas on you) They can live on land and stuff but drag their prospective mate into a deep underwater ravine when they want to mate. Idk how to describe it, like I have an idea in my head of what the creature's traits would be but I can't find a way to put it into words.

I'm going to give it a try though, (excuse the fact it won't make much sense, my thoughts jump around a lot. But I'll try and make it coherent.) Basically, my mind went to underwater dragons. So with most of the traits that you wrote for dragons, like the purring and the tails intertwining (and the sharing of scales). But I was thinking without wings, because you don't need them underwater. But we glow in the dark, because we are deepsea creatures we have adapted to become bioluminescent. Oh and also we have gills and stuff still when we are on land.

Idk if this is confusing or just something you don't want to write but I was hoping for you to include a more sfw part with the mating dance maybe and then then an actual nsfw part (dom top male reader??)

But at the end of the day this is just a suggestion and it's up to you if you want to write it or not. (If you do write it can it be with ghost or gaz?? gaz giving us shiny things but sea related, like shells? and/or ghost struggling through knowing how to court us. Both of them being confused of what to do because we are a new type of dragon that not many people knew existed and our courting traditions are mostly unknown??

Okay this is cool and it tickles my brain of having just this big fucking monster that's gigantic due to deep sea gigantism :D, I also picked Gaz cause I like the sea/sky duality.

CW:NSFW, subbot gaz, domtop Mreader, quick and rough

When you first joined the taskforce, Gaz didn't know what to expect. Your species had been newly discovered, barely any information about you, but something about you put some ancient part of his mind on edge, ants nipping on the sinew of his wings until his body begged to return to the safety of the sky.

First time he met you, you reminded him less of a dragon and more of a Leviathan — something that dwelled where the light didn't reach, far too big than anything should be allowed to be, bright bioluminescent markings shimmering against dark scales to lure prey into crushing jaws filled with sharp crooked teeth, horns like spears to pin down what couldn't fit in your maw, powerful legs built to swim and breach the surface of the water to catch unaware flyers like Gaz just to pull them down into the abyss to be devoured.

He would have been more. . . unsettled by you had you not been so nice.

You towered over him even in your mostly human form, but you were a gentle giant, happy to let him use you as a perch and humming along as he talks, joining in on his and Johnny's pranks and hiding them when Price eventually catches them.

And Gaz doesn't even notice when your presence no longer makes his feathers puff up, the shadow you cast over him now warm and welcoming after all the times you'd been a meat shield for him. He tils his head back to catch sight of your eyes as he leans back, soft feathers rubbing against your clothes, "Hey there big man." Gaz smiled.

You hum, your hand coming to loosely hold his hip, holding the pretty thing close to you. "Hi." You purr, the small biolights along your body flickering in seemingly random patterns, but nothing about them was random to you or your kin, your interest in him painfully obvious.

But to your dismay Gaz doesn't understand, just snorts at your colorful display. "What's got you in a good mood today?" He asks, eyes tracing the dancing lights, that instinctual bird part of his mind liking the sight, and the low rumble of your voice, and just. . . being near you.

You blink, "You," You say simply, your people aren't ones to mince words.

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your declaration, feathers puffing up, but strikes down any thoughts about you before they turn inappropriate and cause him to coo at you. "Fine, keep yer secrets." He huffs and gets out of your hold, wings stretching out to purposely show off his feathers as he walks away, tail feathers flickering.

He can feel your eyes follow after him, hummingbirds pecking at his spine and he doesn't know if he should feel that way. And all you can think of is how you could drag your pretty bird down into the abyss without clipping his wings.

. . .

Gaz watches you lazily swim around the lake near their current base in your real form, "Havin' a nice soak in there Nessie?" He asks as he walks the short pier and sits down, dipping his feet in the water as his wings spread out lazily behind him.

A low rumble leaves you like a distorted whale song, your large form pushing through the water like a submarine cutting through the ice. "Nessie?" You ask as swim over to him, "Who's that?"

"Never mind about that," Kyle grins, his eyes roaming along your large form as the biolights flicker once again in that specific pattern that means nothing to him but everything to you. "You look happy."

You shrug, "It's nice to be back in the water." Without a word you heave yourself out of the water and onto the pier, large hands clutching the wood on either side of him, a deep purr rumbling in your chest at how close he is to you now. "Did you need something?" You ask, biolights flickering seductively.

Kyle swallows drily, eyes going wide as he registers you loom over him, can smell the sea and salt still clinging to your scales, something other than fear buzzing down his spine from how close your dangerous teeth are to him. "Oh, right, uh," He clears his throat to clear the molasses clinging to it, wings spreading out in a way that got his feathers shining in the setting sun as he reached into his pocket.

"I, um. . . I got you this." He said, holding out the seashell he'd found for you. His breath caught in his throat as you looked at it, hoping you liked it; he'd spent hours polishing it until it was shining, the colors vibrant and every single scratch buffed out.

"Thank you," You rumbled and took the seashell into your hand. Your pupils dilated, a very pleased purr rumbling in your chest — oh, he was so thoughtful, such a good mate to bring a rare treat for you.

Kyle felt like a bloody peacock at the way his wings spread out, but he couldn't care less about his posturing when you accepted his gift, his heart fluttering like butterflies in a jar.

Then you ate it.

You ate his gift.

His heart shatters like the seashell between your fangs, wings dropping like a rock, never having expected to be rejected like that. "I- what- why did- if you-" He couldn't even form words to say what he wanted, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to hide the way his eyes prickled with vestiges of tears.

Unfortunately for him, you notice. "Oh, little bird, what's wrong?" Your voice is soothing, biolights pulsing in a slow and calming way as you gently pry his hand from his face, looking into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kyle doesn't look you in the eyes, doesn't know what the hell to feel right now, the words spewing out of his mouth before he could control them. "Why would you do that!" He hisses.

You tilt your head. "You gifted it to me." You say like it's supposed to explain everything, reaching up to cup his cheek, your clawed hand cold and wet against his skin. "It was very good." You lean in closer, a deep purr rumbling in your throat, your long tail moving to curl around his leg.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as you push you loom over him your hands on either sides of him keeping him in place, feeling himself slowly lay back as you creep over him onto the pier, heart drumming in his chest. "Wh-what?"

You snort, eyes glowing like anglerfish lures, lowering your head down to lick a stripe up his neck, claws raking down his front. "Let me show you my appreciation, yes?"

Kyle shivers at the sensation of your teeth against his throat, body heating up, your scent — of sea and salt and something very very old — invading his nose, an involuntary chirp escaping his chest. "Ah, yeah, sure just-" Kyle yelps as your claws cut through his clothes, wings quivering as they're pressed against the wooden pier behind him.

"Relax little bird," You coo softly, licking around his lips in what counts as a kiss for you when your maw is filled with vicious teeth, tongue trailing down to lick up the drops of his salty sweat. "I'll be gentle."

And gentle you are; softly licking up the blood after your fangs had left marks on his skin, sharp claws holding his trembling hips tenderly as your rough tongue worms inside him, soft purrs and deep rumbles vibrating your tongue against his prostate until he's sobbing, his hands clutching your horns to hold your head closer as his cock leaks a puddle of pre onto his abdomen.

He whines when you continue stretching him with your tongue, "Please, mate, just-" Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue once again grazes his prostate, thighs clenching around your head. "-just please fuck me already! I can't- I'm not going to-"

Kyle sobs with joy and anguish when you pull your tongue out, the slimy appendage slithering back into your maw and leaving him painfully empty. "Alright, alright," You coo, moving up to drape your body over his, nuzzling your cheek against his as you line your hard cock with his stretched hole. "Relax,"

The tip of your cock breaching his puckered hole has Kyle sucking in a sharp breath, "Easier said than done mate," He chuckles, closing his eyes and just trying to focus on your scent and just you, groaning. Fuck, you're big in all aspects, his body clenching down like a vice before relaxing enough for you to slowly push further, spreading his walls wide until you're fully inside him, your hips resting against his.

"There you go," You purr, letting Kyle adjust as you nibble on his neck, biolights flickering happily when he rocks his hips into yours. "Taking me so well,"

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your words, throwing his head back when you rock your hips, cock hard and heavy inside him, dragging against his walls with every minute movement that has him panting and whining, his legs crossing behind your back to pull your hips closer every time you pull out.

The world escapes your notice, all your attention fully on him as you focus on mating him, pulling needy desperate sounds from Kyle's lips, your large hand gently stroking his leaking dick as your cock rubs against his prostate, your unhurried pace making him cum again and again and again until he's a moaning boneless mess by the time you cum inside him.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Ok so I was thinking of Yandere Dick and Starfire with an s/o who’s has a Night fury dragon! So you might be wondering what is a Night Fury well here’s the official description!

“The Night Fury was once considered to be one of the most mysterious and fearsome species of dragons. In fact, until Hiccup befriended Toothless, no one even knew what a Night Fury looked like because they preferred to attack at night, when their black scales allowed them to blend into the night sky, making them mostly invisible.

Night Furies are classified as members of the Strike Class. They have the ability to "dive bomb," meaning that they can plummet from great heights, gaining speed as they continue downwards, then shoot a "plasma blast" at their target.

For a long time, the only information that the Vikings had gathered on this rare dragon was the whistling sound of its speed cutting through the night sky, followed by a bright purple light, then finally a massive explosion.

Physically, they are of medium build with jet black scales covering their body. Night Furies also possess retractable teeth (hence Toothless' name). Rather than firing like most dragons, Night Furies are able to shoot "plasma blasts" from their mouth. They are also extremely swift and use their speed and coloration to blend into the night sky.

While they may initially seem like vicious, dangerous creatures, Hiccup's friendship with Toothless has increased our understanding of the true nature of the Night Fury. They are highly intelligent, loyal and fiercely protective of those they care about.”

I feel this movie quote sums up the Night Fury reputation. “Night Fury.

Speed: Unknown.

Size: Unknown.

The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance: Hide and pray it does not find you.”

So I was thinking of Yandere Dick and Starfire’s love interest would have one. I’m thinking they found there Night Fuury injured and heals them and slowly gains the trust of the beast. Shh we’re going to pretend that most people don’t know about the Night Fury’s. So I was thinking of a fight that forces Ducks and Starfire’s s/o to finally use there night fury at full power. (Go to YouTube and look up Toothless vs The red death full fight and you’ll see what fight I’m talking about👍🏽)

So how would Dick and Starfire react to this powerful being that acts more like a cat? Bonus points if the s/o takes Dick for rides since he can’t fly! Also remember to take care of yourself!

Yandere Nightwing x reader x yandere starfire

The cave was a hollowed pocket in the mountainside, so quiet and unassuming that no one thought to explore it. That was why you had come here when you found the dragon, scales as black as midnight and eyes burning with defiant intelligence, its body trembling with exhaustion and pain. The Night Fury had been a myth whispered by few, feared by many, and believed by even fewer. Yet, when its wounded frame had stumbled into your path, its snarling maw daring you to approach, you had done something no one else would have dared. You knelt. You whispered. You stayed.

Healing the dragon had been a delicate process. It wasn’t just the wounds—deep gouges across its flanks, a twisted wing—but the trust you had to earn. Days turned to weeks of patience, leaving food and water within reach but never crowding it. Slowly, it began to accept your presence, its sharp eyes watching your every move. When you touched its scales for the first time, you felt the tension in its muscles, the latent power coiled beneath its skin. But it didn’t lash out. It let you stay.

The bond you forged was unlike anything you had ever known. The Night Fury—your Night Fury—became a shadow that followed you everywhere, a silent sentinel and an unyielding protector. Its loyalty was absolute, its intelligence sharp, and its affection—when it chose to show it—felt like a gift. It nuzzled your side like a great cat, purred low in its throat, and even allowed you to ride it, soaring through the skies on wings as silent as the grave.

Dick Grayson had always prided himself on his instincts. He noticed things others missed, pieced together puzzles before the first piece was even on the table. But with you, there was always something just out of reach, some part of your life you kept tucked away. He and Kory could sense it—the way you disappeared at odd hours, the way your gaze drifted toward the mountains as though drawn by some invisible tether. He told himself it was fine, that everyone had their secrets, but the quiet pang in his chest argued otherwise.

Then, the day came when secrets could no longer be hidden.

The attack was sudden and catastrophic—a rogue warship had descended upon the city, its cannons roaring and its drones flooding the streets. Dick and Kory had moved into action instantly, their partnership as fluid as the shifting tides. But even with their combined strength, the onslaught seemed endless. And then you arrived.

Kory’s fiery hair whipped around her as she hovered in the air, her starbolts cutting through the chaos. She turned just in time to see you standing amidst the rubble, your expression fierce and unyielding. But it wasn’t just you—it was the shadow that moved beside you, sleek and predatory.

The Night Fury.

Kory froze for the briefest of moments, her glowing green eyes widening in disbelief. The dragon was both beautiful and terrifying, its scales glinting like obsidian and its eyes locking onto the warship with predatory focus. When it opened its mouth, a plasma blast erupted like a thunderclap, striking the ship with pinpoint precision.

It was then that Kory truly saw you—not just as the person she had grown to adore, but as something more, something untouchable. The bond between you and the dragon was tangible, a connection forged in trust and fire. And as the Night Fury launched into the air with you on its back, weaving through the sky with breathtaking grace, Kory felt a pang of awe so sharp it bordered on envy.

Dick’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the Night Fury dive. The dragon moved like a shadow given life, its speed and agility defying all logic. He saw the way you leaned into the creature’s movements, the way your laughter carried through the air even amidst the chaos. It was a sight both exhilarating and humbling.

When the Night Fury turned its attention to the warship, Dick’s heart skipped a beat. The dragon's plasma blasts tore through the enemy’s defenses with ruthless efficiency, its attacks precise and devastating. But what struck him most was the way it protected you—shielding you with its body, snarling at any threat that dared come too close.

For all his training, all his years as Robin and Nightwing, Dick had never seen anything like it. And when the battle finally ended, the warship reduced to smoldering wreckage, he found himself staring at you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.

The dragon landed with a soft thud, folding its wings as you slid off its back. Kory was the first to approach, her starbolts dimming as she floated to the ground. She reached out cautiously, her movements slow and deliberate, but the Night Fury merely watched her with those piercing eyes, its tail flicking lazily.

“It’s magnificent,” she whispered, her voice tinged with wonder.

You smiled, resting a hand on the dragon’s side. “He’s more than that. He’s family.”

Dick stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the dragon. “Does it have a name?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Not yet. I didn’t want to rush it.”

The Night Fury huffed, almost as if amused, and Dick couldn’t help but chuckle. He stepped closer, his hand outstretched, and to his surprise, the dragon allowed him to touch its scales. The texture was smooth and cool beneath his fingers, and he felt a strange sense of reverence wash over him.

“You know,” you said, a teasing glint in your eye, “he likes flying with passengers. Want to try?”

Dick’s eyes lit up, and for a moment, he looked like the boy Kory had fallen in love with all those years ago. “You’re serious?”

You nodded, climbing back onto the Night Fury’s back. “Come on, Grayson. Let’s see if you can handle it.”

As the dragon took to the skies once more, with Dick clinging to you for dear life and Kory watching from below, her smile soft and bittersweet, the two of them realized something profound. You weren’t just theirs to love—you were something wild and untamed, a force of nature bound by no one.

And that only made them want you more.

BONUS : the flight

The Night Fury’s wings sliced through the air like knives, each movement a testament to its power and grace. The night sky stretched endless above Gotham, the city below a sea of twinkling lights and murmured chaos. You sat astride the dragon, its scales blending seamlessly into the dark, while Dick clung to your waist with a grip that was more panic than poise.

“You’ve got to relax,” you called over the wind, laughing softly at the way his arms tightened further.

“Relax?!” Dick’s voice was high-pitched, his usual confidence stripped away by the sheer height and speed. “I can’t relax when I’m flying on something that can dive-bomb like a missile!”

The dragon rumbled beneath you, a sound that could have been amusement. Its sleek head tilted back, as if acknowledging the man clinging to you. With a flick of its tail, it suddenly dipped into a sharp dive.

Dick’s girly scream echoed into the night.

(A/n: Truth to be told... I've only watched half the show yet😭😞👎 I'm so sorry for the long wait and responding w a short ass reply I swear things looked better in my head😵😵)

[bookishcarmela]

Dark Desires

pairings: jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader, aemond targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: Princess Y/n, the eldest daughter of Daemon and Laena Targaryen, faces a tumultuous life after her mother's death. Her father marries Rhaenyra Targaryen, and Y/n is betrothed to Rhaenyra's eldest son, Jacaerys. Over time, Y/n and Jacaerys grow to love each other deeply. However, their lives are thrown into turmoil when Y/n unexpectedly reunites with her cousin, Aemond igniting new emotions. As the threat of war looms, Y/n grapples with her feelings and the competing demands of love, duty to her family, and her betrothal to Jacaerys. She must navigate this emotional and political minefield to find her true path amidst the chaos.

Previous chapter

Chapter 2: Kings landing

The morning was crisp and clear as Y/n, Baela, and Rhaenys mounted their dragons and took to the skies, flying towards King's Landing. The flight was swift, the city’s walls appearing on the horizon faster than Y/n anticipated. They descended towards the Dragonpit, the familiar sprawl of the Red Keep coming into view.

Upon landing, they were greeted by the dragon keepers and a knight of the Kingsguard. The dragon keepers moved swiftly, tending to Meleys, who went without issue or fuss. However, Silverwing growled and snapped at the keepers, causing Y/n to let out an amused huff. As they turned away, she heard the dragon keeper’s commanding voice, "Arlī, Silverwing!" The dragon begrudgingly followed the command.

The white-cloaked knight stepped forward and addressed Rhaenys. “The queen will greet you in the small council, my lady. A servant will show the princesses to their rooms.”

Rhaenys nodded, and with a final glance at her granddaughters, she followed the knight towards the Keep. Arya and Baela separated from their grandmother, led by a servant through the hallways of the Red Keep.

As they walked, Y/n noted the changes. The art on the walls had been altered to reflect Queen Alicent's tastes, replacing lively Targaryen imagery with bland colors and the seven-pointed star of the Faith of the Seven.

"Seven hells, are we in the Keep or the Sept?" Baela whispered, disgust evident on her face.

Arya let out a chuckle. "I guess the queen prefers her art as dull as her personality."

The walk to their chambers was quick. They reached Y/n's room first, with Baela’s room only a few doors down the hall. Y/n told the servant, “Summon the maids to run a bath,” and then entered her chamber.

The room was just as she remembered, mostly unchanged since her childhood visits. It had been unused since her last visit three years ago. They rarely came to the capital, especially after the incident with Aemond. The last time she was here was right after the birth of her youngest brother, Viserys. It was a short visit, no longer than a fortnight.

The capital always felt odd to Y/n. She never had friends here; it was such an unfamiliar place. Jace and Luke were there, of course, but they were either in their studies or practicing with her father. Baela was with their grandmother back on Driftmark, and Rhaena preferred dancing and playing the harp to running around exploring with Arya.

Her cousins weren't any better company. Aegon was always drunk and bothering serving girls. Helaena was kind but shy, keeping mostly to herself. Y/n had fond memories of sitting in the gardens with Helaena, who showed her various bugs and plants. Daeron, closer to Y/n’s age by just a year, was sweet and liked exploring. Then there was Aemond.

Aemond was always strange to Y/n, but she supposed she would be strange too if she had lost her eye at ten. They met on the day of her mother’s funeral. Y/n remembered sitting alone, watching the waves when he came to her. They sat in silence, not needing to speak.

When Vhagar’s large shadow flew over them, she saw the entranced look on his face. He watched Vhagar fly until she disappeared into the clouds. Y/n had asked if he had a dragon, and he had shot her a distrusting look, grumbling, “No,” his face turning red with embarrassment. As he got up to leave, Y/n spoke softly, “If you want her, that's okay.”

He looked back at her, puzzled. “Vhagar will not take you as her rider if you're not worthy. You can't take her by force. Vhagar was my mother’s dragon, and she was one of the best dragon riders to live.”

He kept looking at her with that odd expression before saying, “When I claim Vhagar, then maybe we can fly together one day.”

She smiled at him, cheeks dusted with pink, and said, “That would be nice.” He left, and for the first time in weeks, Y/n thought about something other than her mother.

That night, she woke to the sound of screaming and rushed out of her room. She would never forget that night. When she rushed into the throne room of High Tide, the first face she saw was Aemond’s, the maester stitching up his eye, blood everywhere. Their eyes met, and she froze, seeing the fear and hurt in his remaining eye.

Nothing was quite the same after that. During their visits, Aemond made himself scarce, always training with Ser Criston or riding Vhagar. When they did interact, it was unpleasant. He taunted her with Aegon or pulled her hair when it was in a braid. In the library, he would never speak to her, only stare before stomping off somewhere else.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was brought back by a knock on her chamber door. She bid the maids to enter. They carried large metal buckets, steam rising from them. The maids placed them against the far wall, more arriving with additional buckets of water and a large metal tub, which they positioned next to the fireplace and began to fill.

Once they were done, Y/n got into the bath, noticing too late that they had added rose oil to the water, a scent she detested. She missed her lady-in-waiting, Eliana, who always knew her preferences and dislikes. The maids finished quickly, and Y/n sent them away, saying she would dress herself.

From the small bag of clothes she had brought from Driftmark, she pulled out a deep blue velvet gown with a V-neckline and silver embroidery at the waist. The long, billowing sleeves were made of lighter blue sheer fabric, and the skirt flowed gracefully into a train, with a layer of sheer fabric cascading over it.

After changing, Yn decided to explore the Keep. She made her way out of her room, heading towards the familiar yet foreign halls of the Red Keep.

Y/n made her way to the library first, seeking a moment of solitude. As she wandered through the aisles, her eyes caught sight of a familiar book: "A Caution for Young Girls." The sight of it made her giggle, remembering how scandalous she felt when she first came across the book at three-and-ten. Her cheeks had turned a bright red back then, a color she could still recall vividly.

Grabbing the book, she settled into one of the cushioned seats and opened it, the pages as intriguing as she remembered. She was lost in the words, a small smile playing on her lips, when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Aemond appeared, his presence imposing and cold. He had matured since the last time she had seen him, his features sharpened, his frame more robust. He had become handsome in a severe way, the loss of his eye only adding to his intimidating allure.

“cousin,” he said, his voice smooth yet tinged with someting she couldn't place. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here, hidden away with such... literature.”

Y/n looked up, her face instantly guarded. “Aemond,” she replied coolly, trying to mask the sudden flutter in her chest. “I'm not surprised to see you lurking in the shadows.”

“Lurking? No, I was simply seeking some peace. Imagine my surprise to find you engrossed in such filth.” He smirked, stepping closer, his gaze flicking to the book in her hands. “What would the Lord Strong think of his betrothed indulging in such scandal?”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to be cowed. “Jace would hardly mind,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “He’s quite... accommodating to my interests.”

Aemond’s face darkened, jealousy flashing in his eye. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Is that so? It seems your interests are rather... varied. Perhaps you should be careful, lest you ruin your reputation.”

Yn’s heart raced, a strange heat spreading through her body at his closeness. She fought to keep her voice steady. “And what of you, cousin? Lurking in libraries, tormenting ladies... it seems you haven’t changed at all.”

“Oh, I’ve changed,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Perhaps you’ve just not been paying attention.” He was so close now, his closeness making her skin tingle.

Their heated exchange was interrupted by the sound of the library doors opening. Voices echoed through the hall, but they were too far back to be seen. Aemond’s gaze never left Y/n’s, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

“You should be more careful, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice dripping with menace and something else she couldn’t quite place. “It would be a shame if you were caught in a compromising position.”

With that, he turned and left, his departure leaving Y/n feeling both furious and unsettled. She watched him go, her heart pounding and her body feeling as if it were on fire. The encounter left her with a mix of anger and confusion, emotions she couldn’t quite understand. She closed the book, her mind racing, the words within it now forgotten.

next chapter

[comicaurora]

What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

[thetravelingtyper]

On The Same Page pt 6(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)

Stuck in by the rain, you, Simon, and Sam receive important news over dinner...

Part 5, Part 7, Masterlist

Image from GIF by tana-the-dreamchaser

Simon followed you up the stairs like a shadow, his steps even but quiet. If not for his hand seeking yours you would have thought him a ghost. He seems to seek you like a moth to starlight and you find yourself relaxing with his close presence. You reach the door at the top of the stairs and push it open to be met with the smell of a simmering spice. You perk up instantly and call out for Sam. His curls pop out of the kitchen and seeing your entwined hands he smiles.

“Are you making what I think you are making?” You ask hopefully, eyes softened towards your friend. You step into the living area and release your hand from Simon’s. He abides by it but lingers close to you, choosing to take in his surroundings. 

The vibes of the apartment are, well, eclectic. Amongst the thriving house plants, SImon can see little bits of you and Sam. The worn love seat a dappled plum color, a plush leather couch, and, he looks at the floor and chuckles, a fox in a sweater welcome mat. You move to the kitchen after asking Simon to make himself comfortable. He nods and moves to the loveseat, taking your backpack off and setting it to the side before taking a seat. He observes further as you step into the kitchen to talk to Sam. 

On the coffee table, there is a vase of sunflowers, the TV stand is an old steamer trunk, and lining the far walls across from the door are books. Upon four shelves is a library’s worth of books and Simon stands and approaches them. Upon further expectation he cracks a smile, the inner panel of the bookshelves are painted the same as the ceiling of the bookstore. A rough hand comes up and he traces the spines of some of the leather-bound books. There are books of all kinds roughly categorized by genre. Littered amongst the shelves are other things, among them, Simon finds things like a cow teapot, a Union Jack mug holding pens, leather-bound notebooks, a dragon beanie baby, and something else that pauses his searching. 

On a desk in the middle of the two sets of shelves is a collection of mechanical parts. The smell of gun oil and steel pulls memories from service and he leans down, turning on the desk lamp to examine it closer. In the middle of the desk is a typewriter. The carriage is set aside from the body of the typewriter and the smell of oil gets stronger. He looks around the table and finds a myriad of cases, some big and others small, mostly belonging to what he assumes to be typewriters. 

You pop your head out of the kitchen to call for SImon but you find him engrossed in his examination. You smile, unsurprised at his curiosity, most visitors are drawn in by the book before stumbling upon your workstation. You step out of the kitchen and call to him. He looks up and turns to you in question. 

“Dinner is ready.” 

You say it with a growing grin as Sam had made enchiladas in a Tex-Mex style you missed. Simon looks back to the disassembled typewriter once more before he approaches you and follows you into the kitchen. If the living area was eclectic the kitchen was more so. Along the walls of the modest space hung pictures of every kind. Along the side wall, under a window was an old dresser or antique buffet that held a beaten-up record player. Along the wall were art prints, old diagrams, and book posters. On the buffet, next to the kitchen table was a collection of tabletop books, big glossy things meant as eye candy. He huffs a laugh at the selection: fox photo collections, Jules Verne releases, and typewriters. 

He turns his attention to Sam who is already sitting at the table, three places set for you guys to eat. Even the cutlery and plates are a mix of wild colors and subtle finery. You move to the stove where a baking dish holds something excellent smelling. Grabbing some oven mitts (fox chefs of course) you take the dish and set it on some ceramic pot holders on the table. 

“I hope you like enchiladas.” You say it with a pleased expression before shooting Sam a nostalgic smile. You motion for Simon to sit and he does before you take the seat next to him. 

You all begin to eat without much fuss, conversation passing in softer words between you and Sam while Simon chimes in every once in a while. However, after about 15 minutes in, Sam pauses as if remembering something. 

You see a look pass over his face before he reaches behind him and picks up a letter off of the counter behind him. He offers it to you and you recognize the handwriting.

“Sofia was here earlier, she looked urgent and dropped this off mentioning for you to read it. Something about a collaboration of some kind for a release over here. She wouldn’t give me more details than that before she was rushing off to her next appointment.”

“Huh,” You work on prying the envelope open gently, “she would normally call.”

Sam shrugs but watches with curiosity as you pull out a typed document. The paper at first touch is heavy, almost a thin cardstock, and the smell of ink and paper is crisp. There is even a wax seal holding the paper close and you want to roll your eyes. The sneaking familiarity seeps into your bones as you swipe a finger under the seal breaking it and unfolding the paper. When you read the heading your stomach clenches. It was from your old company. Something in your demeanor must have changed as you lean back in your chair feeling suddenly winded. Sharp eyes turn to you and Simon and Sam both stop eating.

“What is it? Sam asks with concern, leaning forward in his chair. Simon next to you frowns as your eyes skim the letter, your shoulders getting tenser and tenser. At the end of the letter, you bite your lip before slowly closing the letter and handing it across the table to Sam without a word. He about tears it open and reads it himself. 

“This is bullshit.” These are the first words out of his mouth and he tosses the letter onto the table. You don't reply, instead pushing your almost empty plate aside and putting your head in your hands with a sigh. Simon’s hand finds your knee under the table instantly and you eye him through your hands. There is exhaustion in your eyes, one that is familiar to him. You move to lay your head down with a sigh, leaning towards Simon naturally for comfort. 

“What is it, Dove?” He asks, voice low.

“Read for yourself.” Is all you offer and he does so, reaching a long arm for the letter before reading. 

The letter begins with a ‘greetings’ in a faceless text. Following are niceties and a “wish you are well’. One that you wanted to scoff at, given your last encounter with your previous publisher. He continues over the unnecessary and gets to the meat of the letter. 

… due to the raving success of your last book under our services, we have decided to do a release tour and event of James’s new book under your direction. We have already reached out to Sofia for contact with you.  Given both books' American popularity, we expect such a collaboration to benefit not only you but also White Owl Publishing. We expect James’s arrival in London this Sunday. If you have any questions please reach us at…

Simon frowns and looks at you.

“When the hell did James start writing?” Sam asks you but you just groan and pull yourself up, a hand reaching under the table to squeeze Simon’s in silent thanks. Something serious settles over you,

“I don’t know. Maybe when he started sleeping with the CEO’s daughter.” 

You bite it, voice sharp as a knife. The woman was an accomplished author under her fathers' direction and specialized in YA and new adult romance novels. You used to hold a lot of respect for her when you first joined the company but she soon, after learning of your specialization in children's literature, became downright dismissive. That dismission partnered with a giggly fascination with James, turned you away from her and towards the more quiet of the other authors and editors. However, given her status as the CEO's daughter, there was no escaping her influence, thankfully Sofia was always with you, and due to your focus on children, you didn't have to interact with her much. Other than events like the Publisher’s Gala, and well you know how the last one turned out. 

After the gala, you had learned from one loyal person, a fellow children's author named Sarah that the affair had been going strong for months. She hadn’t known until a drunk Sabrina had bragged on his arm at an after-party that faithful night. She called the moment she discovered your plans to leave and wanted you to know. 

Back in the moment, you debate your options. Given the publication’s no doubt about you after the Gala, you couldn’t risk saying no to this. Why they wanted to associate with a ‘failure and second rate nobody’ you didn't know. You look to Sam, his family's business was now connected with one of the largest publishers in America, and you weren't going to risk their skins because of disgust and fear. A silent resolution lit up your face, Sam, seeing this, grins. 

“You're going to go with this.” It's not a question out of his mouth. A shaky smile hits your face at that. Simon just looks to you, something about your determination makes him want to smile. His hand turns to entangle with yours under the table and you look at him, taking this as his support. 

“Johnny will want to knock some heads” His voice surprises you and laughter bubbles out of your chest. It quiets down to giggles a moment later and you pull your plate back to you. He wasn't wrong. A few tea times after meeting the man you had told the Scot the story of why you ended up in London. His brows furrowed and looking at you he cursed.

“Cheat? On a prize like you lass? Need me to do him in?”

You mention this to Simon in a giggle. He smiles.

“Good man, Johnny is.” 

He runs his thumb over your knuckles and you breathe out as your heart skips a beat, tension draining from your form as you take another bite before nodding in agreement. Simon gives you a small smile before he turns back to his food with a hum, but his hand remains in yours through the rest of dinner. 

--- 

After dinner, you stand up to collect the dishes. Sam gives you a look before shooting up to race you to the sink. You beat him by a foot before splashing him with cool water. He chuckles at you, eyes brightening at your mirthful expression. You hear the sound of a chair and Simon stands. Sam looks at you with a grin and a raised brow before he pulls himself into a stretch. 

He looks at Simon and then back to himself.

“I may have a shirt and some sweats if you’d like to change Simon.” 

The taller man moves around the table and pauses, looks down at his jeans, and gives a nod. With the confirmation, Sam winks at you and leaves the kitchen for his room. You shake your head fondly before going to wash the dishes, but a hand stops you. Simon is next to you then, the proximity quickening your heart once again.

“I’ll do ‘em,” 

is a statement and he nudges you aside gently with his large frame. You realize then just how big he is. While you were by no means tiny, Simon was tall. Sam was easily 6’ but you had to tilt your head to look up at Simon. He started dutifully washing plates without any more comments so you studied the side profile of his face. With a strong jawline cut with a few scars, your eyes focus on his eyes, focused and quiet as he works. The action, so domestic, calms something in you. While you loved being with Sam, you missed being with a partner sometimes, the attraction and the comfort. You loved Sam like a brother and that came with the typical roommate squabbles sometimes, you laugh mentally. You missed James some though despite everything. Having another person to hold was a human element absent in your life. 

But, your heart murmured, there is Simon.

You sigh inwardly, your heart skipping a beat as you envision his smiles. They lit up his face in a way that took the weight of his service, the exhaustion, off his shoulders for even a brief moment. He had seemingly been open, but respectful about some sort of feelings towards you, and you cherished his careful support. 

Your hand on his arm pauses Simon, and his eyes flicker down to yours in question. Without much thought your hand traces what is exposed of his forearm, fingers swirling around the inked skin, you linger a moment. Then, with a steady exhalation from Simon, your hands follow up his arm and over the sleeve, feeling the strength of his bicep Simon stills. His other hand reaches for the hand towel and setting the plate down he pulls back from the sink and turns his attention fully to you. 

You look engrossed in your study of him, like a jeweler over a diamond or precious stone. You lift for a moment seeing the towel and step back, allowing the man to dry his hands before he takes the next step to follow you. Your eyes widen in realization when your back hits the side counter and Simon steps comfortably, naturally even, into your space. 

Your breath catches in your throat when he raises a hand to your face, it ghosts over your cheek before, heart pounding, you lean into his palm. It is rough, worn from years of work, but it's warm, and something deep in you preens at the touch. Honey eyes find yours, widening a moment as you lean in, before lowering in reverence. Here you were, he thought, 

“Sweet thing.” 

It comes out in a whisper and your heart clenches. You close your eyes, raising a hand against his, cherishing the feel of the touch. His heart stutters then when you reopen your eyes and give him a sweet smile. Your hand runs down his arm and the other wraps around his abdomen and you close the space between the both of you with an embrace. His arms drop in surprise, but as your head comes to rest against his chest, they soon engulf you in the scent of leather and smoke. 

With your ear against his sturdy chest, you can hear his heart pick up, you smile to yourself then, happy the effect is mutual. Simon inhales the scent of old books and baked goods and hums, the sound reverberating through you. He chuckles before setting his head on yours just enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. You mutter something and he questions you with another hum. You repeat it a bit louder.

“Want dessert?” The question incites a chuckle from him and his arms loose to look down at you. Something swirls in his eyes, warm like syrup, and his lips quirked up in a smile. 

“Sure, Honey.” The two syllables of endearment are languid and you bask in them like a noon sun. His eyes flicker down to your lips a moment and your breath catches, but the sound of footsteps alerts you to Sam. You know him well enough, he doesn't want to interrupt so you smile at Simon and run your hands up his arms before stepping out of his grasp. Sam enters a second later with a bundle of clothes. His eyes are lit up and after glancing at you he grins at Simon.

“Here you are, Mate.” He gives a mock British accent and hands the bundle to Simon. You then pat the taller man's arm.

“Guest room is down the hall, Sam will show you. There's a bathroom too. I hope you eat cheesecake?” 

You ask him and he just nods before Sam motions to him to follow. Simon gives you one last glance then heads after Sam. Once both men are out of the kitchen you grasp at your pounding heart as your stomach flutters. You felt giddy, a childish wonder in your heart at the affection. Simon was so warm and you felt safe in his arms. You hum to yourself as you pass to the fridge, opening it and examining the inside. 

Beside produce and leftovers sat your quarry, made a day or so ago. There sat a glorious strawberry shortcake cheesecake, made by you. Albeit there was a slice missing courtesy of Sam but the cake was an absolute unit. You pull the covered dish out carefully as Sam pads into the kitchen alone. He leans against the counter as you work and regards you. 

You hum more as you work, relaxing further in his presence, reaching to grab three plates. You then cut modest slices for each of you before sticking the rest of the cake back in the fridge.

“You’re thinking too loud Sammy.”

You then turn to him, a knowing look on your face. What surprises you is the serious look on his, Sam’s arms are crossed as he leans. You set the plates on the table before approaching your friend.

“What’s wrong?” 

Green eyes turn to you, dark as English ivy, and they flicker down to you.

“I think James means trouble.”

It is all he offers. You sigh, taking a seat at the table. You think a moment. You wondered why your manager, Sofia wouldn't have called you, but this seemed like such a sudden onset by your old publisher. Given her sudden rush to leave you wondered where this put Sam’s family. Hearing your story the small publisher was happy to take both you and Sofia under their wing. White Owl Publishing was small, but they had cherished new classics under them. Your eyes flick up to meet Sam’s.

“We can’t risk your family’s reputation. Not after everything they've done for me and Sofia.”

Sam’s jaw clenches and you are taken aback a moment when his muscles tense. Sam had always been the most level-headed person you know. 

“I don’t give a shit after what he’s done to you.” It is firm, Sam stands taller at the statement. You think back to the firm grip on your neck. Showing up at Sam’s door with tears streaming down your face, the choked sobs. It was the first but not the last time the man had laid hands on you. Weeks before the gala was marked with a possession like no other by James. In hindsight making up for his affair but you didn’t and still don’t understand why Sam triggered it. 

“I should have knocked his teeth in the first time he touched you.” 

Sam’s voice is even but you can sense the rage simmering. You get up and go to him seeking to comfort him but you jump when you see the form of Simon at the entrance of the kitchen. Your surprise has Sam turning as well, the simmer broken.

“He grabbed you, Dove?”  Simon’s voice is ice. If you thought Sam was simmering rage, Simon has the look of a soldier. His eyes are dark and his lips are up in a snarl, but he is collected, with a refined rage, trained to kill. You gulp. You nod slowly. 

“In the past month or so before the gala, when I found out he was cheating. James got possessive.” You say it calmly but there is a bubble of anxiety, black and vile, in your stomach. You try to shake it off, but the shadow of the experience hangs over you. Simon, fresh from the shower steps into the kitchen, hands open in an offering. Sam watches as you glance at Simon before stepping into the man’s embrace, something in his chest settling with firm contentment. 

Simon on the other hand wraps you in one arm and uses his hand to smooth down your hair. He rocks you slowly and you melt in his arms. You calm in his arms, staying a quiet moment before running a hand over his shoulder and reluctantly pulling back. You look up to Simon with a shy smile,

“The cake will get warm.”

He lets you go slowly and follows you and Sam to the table. He takes the same seat and is met with a heavenly smell. The smell of vanilla and strawberry draws his eyes to the masterpiece in front of him. Sam offers him a smile before taking a large bite out of the cake that makes you giggle. You look at Simon before taking your own, albeit more modest bite. Simon follows and is met with heaven. Strawberry bursts on his tongue as the combination of heavy cheesecake and fluffy shortcake mix into a powerful combination.

“Fucking hell Love.” Is all he offers and you laugh, not expecting such a reaction from the stoic man. Your laughter is music to his ears,

“Glad you like it, Simon.” 

He could get used to the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. 

End Chapter 6

Taglist!

@ghostlythots, @tapioca-milktea1978, @cmbghost, @nexthyperfix

[ashton-the-draconid]

The people seemed to like Buddy as a drake, so, time to do more of that, this time with Chase's design! >:) (Please ignore any spelling mistakes I'm begging you)

For those of you who aren't able to read the text, I'll list it below along with some additional information! - Chase ShockWave / Shiver ShockWaves are highly social dragons who live lives similar to many crocodilians. Their main prey is fish, however, they won't hesitate to pick off something smaller. They use their electric powers, which they gain from absorbing sunlight through their photoscales, to sense movement through the water before sending a burst of energy to stun the prey before they swallow it whole with their jaw that can split open (Chase does not have this feature). They are extremely touchy with members of their flock or clan, using their photo scales to transfer energy as a friendly greeting! Shivers are mostly solitary dragons who have an instinctual love for all things metallic and shiny, however, they're also known to be excellent crafters. Though quite stubborn, if a Shiver takes a liking to something, they do everything in their power to protect it, even if it's something living! Gift-giving is in every Shiver's nature, and a good sign of trust is being given or even made a special item by these dragons. With their hot breath, being one of only 3 dragons who can breathe fire, they are no easy prey despite being the smallest species. They fight their battles hard, using everything to their advantage. Their unique ability of being able to send chills through a dragon by locking eyes with them, temporality paralyzing them out of mental fear, is something still being studied. - Buddy Lochin / CastGloom Lochins are the only drake species within the world, and they are the most resourceful of all draconic life. With their ability to shapeshift, they love playing tricks on both friend and foe. Consuming even the tiniest bit of blood, skin, scales, even bones can allow them to mimic any dragon almost perfectly, almost. Though they cannot maintain this form for long, as their need for moisture causes their disguise to fail as soon as they become too wet or dry. Most Lochins live a purely underwater life however, living among large pods where they work together to hunt fish, crabs, urchins, and many other sea life which they crack open with their well developed beaks. They use the patterns on their body as a way of communication, showing off, and intimidation, which each Lochin's pattern being a genetic mix up from their parents! CastGlooms are a sister species of the ShockWave, both coming from the same "true" species of SplitJaw. Just like ShockWaves, CastGlooms go after small prey which they swallow whole. However, that's where their similarities end really. They lunge from the shadows that conceal their bodies like portals, pinning down prey before delivering a fatal blow with their strong arms and swallowing it whole. With incredible paitience, they can track down anything they set their mind to, all while observing undetected. These dragons thrive on the element of surprise, their dark coloration keeping them hidden until a moment too late for whatever they have their sight set on. Though CastGlooms are not the most friendly or caring of dragons, winning the affection will make them show great loyalty, even in the face of moral challenges other dragons would gladly choose themselves over.

This is a series I've had for over 5 years now, and I enjoy turning characters I love into dragons to put into the world. Though I have my own story and characters to share too! Please, feel free to ask away any questions you have, I love sharing my creations. Whether it be about Dragon!Chase / Buddy / Deacon, another fandom I'm in, or my own story.

[microposting]

macro/micro, all m/m, nsft, noncon, ownership, objectification

A man meets someone at a punk show with some unique (and unwilling) piercing jewelry.

He was a little embarrassed about it. Whole basement full of people in t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, cargo shorts, understated glasses, natural-color hair, normal, ordinary, perfectly attractive people, and here he was stealing glances at Mr. Hot Topic. Like a time traveler from 2005. Like a kid’s show’s idea of a punk rocker. But fuck if the eye shadow wasn’t doing something for him.

Bo leaned over to Mickey. “Billie Joe Armstrong over there,” he shouted. Might as well be whispering, the band was so loud. This was why he didn’t go to punk shows.

Mickey laughed. “Gerard Way over there?”

“Yeah, yeah, Pete Wentz over there. You know these people. He into dudes?”

He shrugged. “Fucking look at him. If he’s not bi, I’ll eat my socks.”

While the bands switched over, Bo approached him with a beer. He was sweaty from moshing, his dye-fried hair tussled, and very glad for the beverage. The guy was a few inches shorter than Bo, chubbier. His tattoos were numerous and seemed mostly DIY, and Bo was pretty sure he caught a glance of nipple piercing when his shirt settled just right.

“You’re pretty hardcore, man,” he opened. “No way you don’t have a band, right?”

He laughed. “Aw, I’m kind of in-between right now. Why, you trying to start something?”

“Well, I wanna start something .” Bo rose his brows.

He looked him up and down and licked his lips. “Teddy,” he said.

“Bo.” 

They shook hands.

The shed in the backyard was unlocked. Bo slammed him against one decaying wood wall, between a scrap metal shelf and a lawnmower, and a shower of dust rained on them. Tongues in mouths immediately. Fuck yes, a tongue piercing. The next band was starting up, he could hear them muffled through the wall. Grimy, throbbing, loud. That would make a nice soundtrack.

Against his tongue, something… moved? Did Teddy’s tongue piercing just move?

Bo pulled back. It was way too dark in here to see anything but the outlines of his face. The slightest shadow betrayed his frown. “Um, I think your piercing, um-”

“Oh!” He laughed. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot. Hold on.” Teddy took his phone out and shone the flashlight into his mouth. 

“Oh, shit!”

There was a guy in there. In his tongue. Some sort of plate encircled his chest, keeping him in place. His arms were spread out over the tongue’s surface. Couldn’t have been taller than an inch. Teddy flipped his tongue up to show off his little legs, kicking frantically. He was nude, except for the hardware. 

Teddy flicked off his phone light and Bo stuttered weakly. He wanted a better look, he wanted to figure out that mechanics of that whole thing. Was it clamped on? Screwed? Who agreed to do that? Why was there a tiny guy? 

“Bandmate,” Teddy said, as if that explained anything. “That’s why we broke up. There was some weird electrical incident during practice while I was on a smoke break. I like to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“And they’re cool with that?”

He cackled. “Absolutely not!”

Bo slipped his hand up Teddy’s shirt. His “nipple piercings” were soft and warm and wiggled at his touch. It felt like these two were strapped lengthwise along barbells. Cuffed at the wrists and ankles, maybe?

“Here’s a fun game,” Teddy said. “See if you can make them all come.”

“And what’s the prize?”

“I’ll suck your fucking dick, Bo, obviously.”

He smiled. That was fair.

Kissing first, then. Bo lapped at the tiny man’s chest. He imagined him sputtering and shouting. Couldn’t actually hear anything over the music. Of course, it didn’t take much to drown out a voice that small.

He paused. “Who is he, anyways?”

“Rich. He was tryna get us to call him Dragon, though. Drummer.”

“He’s in your mouth, and he’s not the vocalist?”

Teddy laughed. “You’ll get there.”

His tongue returned and slipped down underneath. The man tried to kick his legs against him to keep his tongue away just a little bit longer, so Bo twisted it vertically and slid in between. He pressed up hard and dragged back slow, rocked his tongue back and forth, grinded against him. If he really focused he could taste it… the musk, the sweat. He must be sweating nonstop in there, far more humid than any sauna. Bo flicked his tongue against the tiny sack. With the smallest bit of pressure, his tongue could press in and envelope his entire package. He wiggled it until he felt the whole body stiffen, and then the littlest hint of salt.

Bo pulled back. Saliva dribbled down his chin. “That was hot,” he panted.

“Don’t stop now,” Teddy teased back.

He pushed his shirt up and slicked his inner lip against Teddy’s solid, wrinkled nipple. His piercing strained against the contact. 

Teddy gasped and sighed. “That’s Al. Bassist. But I just call him lefty now.”

Bo could slide him out to one side. He kissed his lower half and felt the nub of his straining cock poking between his lips. Could just barely hear him yell… Not sure if it was a scream of pleasure or resistance, but both ideas were getting him hard. He was so little, he couldn’t even penetrate halfway through Bo’s pursed lips. Bo half-sucked half-kissed on him. The tiny man awkwardly tried to hump back and he smiled. “I think lefty’s liking this,” he muttered.

Teddy laughed. “Oh, are you being a good toy, Al? You being a sweetie?”

Bo smiled and gave his nipple another kiss. He tasted cum.

He wondered if they’d all wind up obedient and eager one day, like this one seemed to be becoming. Maybe it was just too overwhelming. The smell, the taste, the feeling of his flesh encircling them. They were almost part of his body. It had to be maddening. 

“Good boy,” Bo whispered. He heard a squeak in response. 

He brought his hand to Teddy’s right nipple. Righty had a lot more fight in him. Bo leaned in and brought his ear up. God, he was screaming, but he couldn’t begin to make it out. It sounded a bit more like desperate begging than anger, he thought. Bo spat on him and brought his ear back, right up to him, then pinched the piercing longways and wiggled him back and forth so the saliva worked its way between him and the interior of the nipple keeping him captive. His shouting devolved into humiliating, uncontrolled noises, and finally a long moan and quiet panting.

“Your vocalist’s got lungs,” Bo muttered.

Teddy laughed. “Nah, Grant was lead guitar.”

He frowned. “You’re vocalist?”

“Nope. Keyboard. Still gotta make the vocalist cum.”

Bo’s fingers trailed down to his belly button. Empty.

“C’mon, dude, you being dense?”

His eyebrows twitched. Oh. Duh. 

Bo reached down and slowly, carefully unzipped Teddy’s jeans. He tugged down his underwear, that smooth-textured mesh kind, and felt up his cock. On the short side, with a nice thickness and shockingly soft skin. And there on the very tip, one last tiny body. Prince Albert style, ankles and wrists cuffed together by a strict straight piece of metal, coated completely in pre. 

“Fuck,” Bo whispered. “Lemme see.”

“Go ahead.”

He got down on his haunches and turned on his phone flash. God, the little guy was soaked . Long hair flattened against him, thick liquid coating his whole body. He looked right into Bo’s eyes and even at his tiny, tiny size his expression was clear. Contempt. And exhaustion.

Bo took his sweet time looking at him. The erection must have been constricting him even further, what did that feel like? To be so directly at the mercy of another man’s libido? When Teddy came… when he pissed …

He leaned in and slowly licked up his shaft, taking his sweet, sweet time dragging the very tip of his tongue up the man’s body. Teddy moaned, and even more pre bubbled up around the man. He sputtered and gagged. 

“Frontman gets front stage,” Bo muttered.

“Now you’re getting it.”

He turned off his phone and stood back up. Before Teddy could argue, Bo pulled out his dick. With a hand, he carefully pressed their heads together. Fuck. God, fuck, it was incredible feeling the little man against him. The prisoner. He was like an insect compared to a of couple dudes fucking in a stranger’s garden shed.

Bo jacked them both off, tip to tip, the little piece of jewelry smashed in the center of them. “Jesus,” he hissed. “It’s so fucking hot, Teddy, they live in you.”

“It’s all I think about,” he panted. “He feels every twitch in my cock. They-they feel everything.”

“They should worship you.”

Teddy moaned and spurted over his hand, his cock, and no doubt half-drowned his prisoner. “Oh, fuck. Shit. Sorry, I─ Jesus, you got me hot.”

“Please suck me off,” he muttered.

“Yeah, dude. Yeah, yeah.” Teddy got down on his knees and licked up Bo’s shaft and oh god, he nearly forgot about the tiny in there. His arms fruitlessly fought off the tide of his flesh, and when Teddy took him in and pumped in and out he flailed to find any stability at all. “Are you jealous?” Teddy asked.

“God, yes.”

“You’d like some too, wouldn’t you?” He brought his tongue up and expertly slid the upper half of the little body down Bo’s slit. Oh, god, all those tiny movements suddenly dancing around inside of his cock.

Bo gasped and grabbed at his hair. “Yes!”

“I could… set up another accident. Maybe some of your friends. Or a hookup.”

“Please, please. Let’s be gods, Teddy.”

“You’d really be willing to do that? To another human being?”

“Yes!!” he squealed.

Teddy chuckled. “Good to know. I actually was thinking about a navel piercing.”

Bo froze. “Wait─” he muttered, but Teddy had already gone back to sucking him off, even more vigorously. He tried shoving him off and his hands faltered, his collar slipped over his shoulder, his pants slipped down. “Wait, Teddy─” he whimpered, and his voice was already so much smaller. Teddy bent over further and further down until he had to scoop Bo up, letting his shirt fall to the ground. Sitting in his hands, he was handheld. And the tongue, it was just so overwhelming. Bo couldn’t manage to get any sort of grip to push it off, just a helpless victim to its pressure. He came into Teddy’s wide-open mouth, assaulting him with awful humid air, and he could feel it, he could tell it could easily fit him in by now. Bo scrambled desperately away, but to where? There was palm on every side of him, and an awful fall past that.

Light blinded him and the surface he laid on tipped around as his new owner inspected him. “But maybe a scrotal piercing would be better… How ‘bout a trial run?” The light flicked off. His world turned and tumbled Bo went into a rapid free-fall. He hit some tense fabric, trampoline-like, and that shifted too until he was pressed up against bumpy, musky skin, squashed directly underneath his sack. “See how you like it, hardware,” Teddy called down. “Not like you’ll have much choice.”

[loquaciousquark]

[Fic] Distant Skies, Timber Joists [1/1]

Rating: G Characters/Pairings: Zelda/Link (ZeLink) Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Word Count: 5.5k Summary: Some days, she wakes with a dragon in her eyes.

Notes: My very dear friend @silksieve loves Link and Zelda, and after I finished my recent playthrough of TotK, I knew I wanted to write something for her. (Mostly in gratitude for her endless patience with the absolutely boneheaded way I played that game, but also because she's just wonderful and deserves it.) Little did I know she was working on something truly beautiful for me at the same time, and while she finished hers first, I'm still here to complete our little Fics of the Magi tradeoff.

--

Some days, she wakes with a dragon in her eyes.

The color never changes. Link checks the first time, and the second and the third—but no, still green, green as Rauru’s light, green as the paddock behind the house where the horses graze amid unchecked wildflowers. The color doesn’t change, but that doesn’t change his certainty that a dragon looks out from Zelda’s eyes, from Zelda’s face.

The right green, but not her eyes. Not her voice. No smile for him or anyone else, even when the neighborhood children come to visit. She sits at the nearest window quietly, placidly, her hands folded in her lap, and her green eyes turn up to the skies and stay there. Hours pass, sometimes, without the slightest shift; he looks over now and then to watch her watching the Akkala clouds, now dipped in the clear gold of a morning sun; now cast grey and shivering with a sudden thunderstorm, tumbling over themselves into greater and greater heights. The shadows pass over her face and vanish again, and again, and again.

The first time it happens, Link panics.

--

Links: FF.net, AO3

[amandakassis]

Masterlist - Dark Desires

Tell me, what is it that your heart desires? When nobody knows, nobody judges, do you long for villains or heroes? I, for one, have a soft spot for the villains 🤭

Here you’ll find all my fanfiction dedicated to some of my favorite morally gray characters or outright villains, such as Aemond Targaryen, Coriolanus Snow, and Eric Coulter 🤍

Ratings: Mature or Explicit 🔞

Stories available on AO3 and (mostly) on Wattpad. Don’t repost on other platforms.

SERIES | Modern Tales of Bronze and Silver

Modern short stories about Aemond and my original character, Katheryn Royce—the oldest daughter of Daemon. Each time, witness as they meet under new circumstances, navigate Westeros throughout different levels of power within House Targaryen, and deal with the inner wars that the Blacks and Greens wage against each other.

Some things you’ll find here: marriage of convenience, dragons as cats, dark and possessive Aemond, angst and fluff, light or mild smut.

‼️ WARNING: canon-typical targcest

COMPLETED | Bronze, Silver, and Valyrian Steel

Synopsis: When it comes down to matters of the heart, bronze can hold greater value than Valyrian steel.

In modern times, the Targaryens rule the nation of Westeros behind smoke and mirrors. During the patriarch's funeral, both sides of the family are reunited, including prince Aemond and his cousin Katheryn—Daemon's eldest daughter—who share a deep sense of loneliness. As the succession reveals the true colors of its most power-driven members and a murder accusation threatens to destroy their dynasty, the two of them must decide if they'll follow their duties or succumb to the attraction that makes their dragon blood sing.

Main trope: enemies to lovers

Read here

ONGOING | Consequence

Synopsis: Westeros entered the 21st century free of the shadow of the Targaryens. The gods among men no longer ruled, and their dragons were gone, but the family still remained wealthy and clung to some of their centuries-old traditions. After the death of their patriarch, a marriage between the notorious drunk Aegon and Katheryn—Daemon’s oldest daughter—is planned to consolidate an alliance between both sides and avoid bloodshed. However, the young woman ends up setting her eyes on Aemond, the mysterious and disciplined brother, who will truly rule the family’s company in the shadows. On this journey about love and power, Aemond might discover that duty isn't the death of love but a consequence of it.

Main trope: marriage of convenience

Read here

SERIES | The Wicked Universe of Eric and Kate

Here you’ll find 4 standalone stories about Divergent’s hottest and most complex character, Eric Coulter, and my OFC, Kate Kempton. Every work presents a different universe and the narrative gets a little darker.

Leave a Light On is a twist on the first movie; Bloody Vows is a world filled with ruthless vampires; Wretched and Divine is a mix of Dynasty and Gossip Girl—meaning that you get a high-stakes corporate drama with marriage of convenience and friends to strangers to lovers, all of it being witnessed by high-society and Twitter! Who doesn’t love that? And last, but definitely not least, Leave a Light On has an AU: Matters of the Brain and the Heart!

Looking for a badass OFC going through an existential crisis? Kate’s your girl! Oh, don’t worry, everything is consensual! I’m all for a couple that you can ship without bending your morals (too much)… Or needing to throw them out of the window (just sometimes)!

NEW STORY | Matters of the Brain and the Heart | Leave a Light On AU

Synopsis: Loving someone means letting go of self-preservation—that’s why the brain and the heart will forever be at war.

A few weeks ago, Kate Kempton was promoted to the position of Erudite’s ambassador. If her promising career continues on track, the young woman is looking at a leadership role soon enough. However, when an unknown enemy attempts to steal a dangerous serum from one of their labs, her life crosses paths with Eric Coulter, the cruel Dauntless leader who got intertwined with the deranged schemes of Jeanine Matthews—Kate’s mentor.

Main tropes: power imbalance, morally gray OFC

Read it on AO3 or Wattpad

COMPLETED | Leave a Light On

Synopsis: Allow yourself to accept every single thing about you that makes you gray.

A change in leadership means that Kate, the Dauntless ambassador, is now tasked with working closely with the young and ruthless leader Eric. While everyone around her worries that Kate won't survive him, they forget to consider the dangers lying behind her sweet smile and sharp-witted solutions. After all, she doesn't navigate the city council with only her looks as a weapon.

Political games, a conspiracy on the horizon, and a twisted romance will challenge the fragile balance that keeps Chicago from crumbling. When all is said and done, will there be a future for what is left of humanity?

Main tropes: power imbalance, boss x subordinate, morally gray OFC.

Read it on AO3 or Wattpad

COMPLETED | Bloody Vows | Vampire AU

Synopsis: Over 200 years ago, vampires crawled from the shadows to conquer the human race, which led to the collapse of modern society. In Chicago, the bloodthirsty creatures divided themselves into five factions, and the humans, upon reaching 20 years of age, had to partake in the Choosing Ceremony that decided which faction they would pledge their loyalty to. Blood in exchange for protection against other dangers hidden in the darkness.

Kate Kempton is a human on a mission. Her older sister's mysterious death led to a dangerous resolve. Upon coming of age, she would join Dauntless to find out what really happened three years before. Unfortunately, on Choosing Day, Kate draws the attention of Eric Coulter, the cruel and young faction leader, who had never been intrigued by a human before.

Can she survive the warrior faction and find answers? What will get her killed first, Eric or the secrets buried deep into the faction?

Main tropes: vampires x human, young woman x old vampire, forbidden romance, murder mystery.

Read it on AO3 or Wattpad

ONGOING | Wretched and Divine | Modern AU

Synopsis: In 2024, Chicago is under the rule of five powerful families. Due to an unexpected reunion, the public eye is set on two of its high-profile citizens: Kate Kempton, a Public Relations Officer set to inherit a pharmaceutical empire, and Eric Coulter, a veteran who becomes the new CEO of Dauntless, a private security giant, after his father’s death.

Initially bound by a marriage of convenience, these former childhood friends have to navigate a web of family secrets and survive the power plays of Chicago’s elite, while fighting for control over their personal lives and trying to understand their growing feelings for each other.

Main tropes: marriage of convenience, corporate romance, friends to strangers to lovers, gossip girl style.

Read here

Coriolanus ‘Coryo’ Snow could only ever belong to Lucy Gray Baird. However, does that mean they should end up together?

ONE-SHOT | Memories Carved Into Snow | No Hunger Games AU

Synopsis: The Hunger Games were never more than an idea on paper, yet the children of the districts struggled. Being born outside of the Capitol was a life sentence of misery—except for Lucy Gray, who found beauty and melodies all around her. The artist enchanted crowds and found her way to the big city, where her path crossed with Coriolanus Snow, a man destined for great things at any cost. Love blossomed, but wickedness had corrupted his heart, and their relationship crumbled. The bird was free of its cage… Or was it? Two years later, a knock on Lucy Gray’s door and a final request from his heart might rewrite their ending. Could rotten things still be worth loving?

Read it on AO3 or Wattpad

[valyrianfreehold]

Tessarion, the Blue Queen

I'll admit that when I first saw that Tess won the poll I went "fuck" because I already had Meleys mostly mapped out in my head and I had to go back to the drawin' board. Tess girls I'm so sorry for sleeping on your girl as I started drawing and experimenting and reading about her I started to form a very clear image in my head about Tessarion and now I care her So Much and I'm looking forward to seeing her final design on HotD more than Sunfyre's. How the turns have tabled etc.

In my head Meleys and Dreamfyre are Tess's moms simply because Dreamfyre is blue and Mel is a Queen and I'm not original and always ready for lesbians.

Tessarion is the youngest of the Greens fleet of dragons. I think she's around the age of Vermax. Daeron bonded with her when he was six but we aren't given an age for when Daeron first rode her.

Okay now lets jump into pure conjecture to go along with my design notes: I think Tessarion's nickname comes from her mom and the fact that she is, uh, gorgeous. While Daeron is the shadowed youngest of his brothers, Tessarion was the big personality and spice that grew in opposite of her rider. Idk I think she was feisty and beautiful and Daeron loved her a lot and she made him feel less lonely in Oldtown. War was supposed to be her and Daeron's chance to prove worth to their family. Nothing says coming of age like Crownlands conflagration.

I choose to believe Daeron and Tessarion had a very close bond. He was the first and youngest of the Green kids to bond with a dragon. After Daeron's death her fury was directed at the Blacks' dragons. Me being a terminal dragon girl, I get very emotional thinking about her death. After Seasmoke messed her up bad, she STILL outlived Seasmoke and Vermithor. She lingered on the battlefield, trying three times to take flight and failing. After a day of this, Benjicot Blackwood ordered his archer Billy Burley to euthanize her, killing her with three arrows to her eye.

The three arrows in her headdress are fletched with the colors of house Blackwood and house Burley.

I really like k-ac-l-art's Tessarion design and was a huge jumping point for her horns but I chose to stick closer to how she's described with brighter blues and coppers.

Also sorry but I am just Not going to be very consistent with my style for this portrait series. This has all just been a really relaxing exercise in exploring what I can do.

[blazehedgehog]

Man, that's crazy and unfortunate what happened to that level designer on Sonic Heroes. Is there a source for those stories you could share?

Unfortunately it came from a Game Informer interview on their website back in 2016. Thanks to the efforts of Gamestop, everything about Game Informer was basically wiped from the internet about a little over a week ago.

Digging around a bit I found this Wayback Machine post for the article, titled "Where Sonic Went Wrong", written by Brian Shea.

Iizuka recalls the development cycle of Sonic Heroes, the first multiplatform mainline Sonic console game, as the most stressful of his career, in part thanks to deadlines. He was based in the United States while the rest of the development team was in Japan, and mismanagement took its toll on the team. "The level design for Sonic Heroes was made by two people: me and one other person," he says. "As we got to the later stages of development, this other person got pretty sick and didn't show up to work, so level design was made by one person! So for those very last stages of the game, I didn't sleep at all and I was constantly working. I lost about [22 pounds] because I was just cranking away and it was just work, work, work. I didn't sleep because I had to finish the game on my own. Almost dying!"

From what I've heard, this isn't the first time somebody has mentioned this about Sonic Heroes, just the first time in an English interview.

For the other information:

The information about Sonic 2 comes in the wake of Hirokazu Yasuhara's Digital Dragons talk in 2017, where he revealed a significantly different and more ambitious early design for Sonic 2 that was scrapped in favor of something they could do faster and easier.

The information about Sonic 3 comes from the Hidden Palace dump of a Sonic 3 prototype. The creation date on their prototype is maybe three months before its retail release and the state of the game at that point can charitably be described as a disaster, something their news post explains thanks to information provided by the person who offered the prototype.

Sonic Adventure 2 being made by half the people in half the time is original research by me. Sonic Team is on record that the 3D Sonic World in Sonic Jam was a prototype for Sonic Adventure on the Sega Saturn, putting development of SA1 starting around late 1996 or early 1997. If you count from there to when the finishing touches were put on the International (American) release of SA1, that gives it a development time of around 2-3 years. SA2's development started probably around December of 1999, and came out in June of 2001, making for a development time of 18 months. You can compare developer numbers yourself using Mobygames. (Shoutouts to The Golden Bolt for also looking down a similar path.)

Similarly, just look at the production credits for Shadow the Hedgehog, CTRL+F, and search for "Takashi Iizuka"

After Shadow in 2005, Takashi Iizuka was no longer an active developer on the Sonic series for the next five or six games, mostly relegated to distant "supervisor", "concept" and "special thanks" roles. Instead, he worked on NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams, another game Sega jerked him around on. He came back to the Sonic franchise and started doing press again midway through the development of Sonic Colors in 2010.

Sonic Unleashed being expensive comes from, to my memory, an IGN Developer Diary that's impossible to find nowadays, where the director admits one of the producers at Sega pitched the Werehog as a way to slow players down and appreciate all the effort they put into environment art. Also they literally developed a whole entire rendering engine just for that game, of course it was expensive.

Here's a 2009 post mentioning a "Sonic Anniversary" leak from Sega's FTP. Details are fuzzy, but a Sega Spain leak a year later clarified that "Sonic Anniversary" was a game coming to Wii, DS, PSP, and PS3. A (physically) broken prototype of Sonic Anniversary for the PSP reveals a very early version of what would become Sonic Generations for the 3DS. And given how much content is shared between Sonic Colors and Sonic Generations, it's not hard to connect the dots between Colors being built from the proposed Wii version of "Anniversary" (Generations). There may be a more direct source for this straight from the horse's mouth, but I can't find it right now.

Morio Kishimoto was a game designer for Secret Rings and Black Knight, his first games for Sega, and got promoted to Director for Sonic Colors where he's stayed ever since. He mentioned not being a part of Sonic Forces at first, but was brought in to get the game back on track, and the game's troubled development is corroborated by Takashi Iizuka in the liner notes for the Sonic Forces soundtrack.

You can compare the metacritic for Secret Rings and Sonic 06 to see just how much more favorably Secret Rings was received, despite both games coming out less than six months apart.

Here's an archived IGN interview from 2007 with Yojiro Ogawa describing how Secret Rings was split off from the development resources of Sonic 06. Exact dates would be fuzzy, but it's easy to assume the entire game was developed in less than a year.

Here's a 2010 Eurogamer interview where Takashi Iizuka (not Kishimoto, whoops) says Sonic Colors is a Sonic game meant to appeal to Mario fans.

As for Sonic Lost World being Sonic Colors 2, my source on that is "I mean, just look at it."

(For people many years in the future, this post is in response to this.)

[camelspit]

holy shit! Its done! Ive worked on this for about a month and a half now? I think? Its a somewhat redo of this post from exactly a year ago :) I hope you like it !!!

(List of symbols below the cut. Slight warning: It's a bit long)

Biana

The bird earrings and the goldish triangles in the background are supposed to represent the vacker crest and how her family name is always sort-of looming over her.

The background could be interpreted as a mirror or stained glass. a mirror because of nightfall, and stained glass because it's the kind of rich people thing the vackers would have.

The cracks in the mirror are very faintly outlined in gold. It's supposed to sort of represent how the constant pressure to be perfect and "golden" kinda fucked up her and her family, especially with regards to Alvar.

The mix of teal and purple in the mirror and the roses is supposed to symbolize the constant fight between being herself and being who her family and the rest of elven society wants her to be.

The flowers are roses because something something Biana is pretty but definitely has thorns. She can hurt you.

The butterflies are actually there for multiple reasons! Theres the obvious, being that butterflies are beautiful. But they're beautiful because their colors come from camoflauge. They look pretty to hide from predators. Also, the belding in could go with her vanisher ability.

I know it's a bit unclear, but the squigglies beside the butterflies are supposed to be snakes! Snakes are dangerous, but you don't usually notice them until it's too late. They sneak up on you. Sort-of resembling how no one would suspect Biana of being dangerous, and how being a vanisher lets her sneak up on people.

Fitz

He has matching earrings with Biana. This is sort-of to go with the whole "family comes first" thing with the Vackers. The birds are also to represent the family crest! (You can also see the crest in the squares in the corners)

His color scheme has a lot more teal than Biana's did. This is mostly because of the two, the family legacy effected him more. He was always going to be the golden child. The one true Vacker kid.

The swords on the sides are supposes to sort of symbolize his fighting. He's been almost nonstop battle training for a lot of books now, and even got an actual sword in the ending of stellarlune.

The swords are wrapped in roses. It's supposed to represent Sophie, since the Ruewen crest has a rose. She is what made him realize that the elven world was really shitty, and that there's a better world worth fighting for.

The feathers beside the swords are also supposed to represent the bird in the family crest.

The scales at the top are because of mr.snuggles mostly. Dragons have scales, so i thought it'd be fun. They could also represent a snake skin, and how throughout the series he's been growing and changing.

Below the scales are little thorns. These were supposes to symbolize all the littlethings he's said and done to hurt others, even if it wasn't intentional. His anger is a protects him, just like thorns protect a rose.

In the top right corner, there's a circle with a broken heart inside. It's supposed to be his cognate ring, and all the drama that's happened with Sophie.

The objects above his shoulders are crowns! bc vacker royalty or whatever!!

There's a broken heart behind him. The most obvious comparison for this would be his relationship with Sophie, but it could also represent his connection to Alvar or Keefe. Honestly, it could represent his entire relationship with the Lost Cities.

Keefe

The black dripping down the circle in the background is supposed to be shadows + quintessence. It could go with the scene in Legacy where his abilities are activated, or just represent how his life has been slowly getting darker and darker. Everything being overshadowed by the Neverseen.

The heart in the middle of the darkness can either be his empath abilites or how he's still trying to be a good person, despite everything that's happened.

The candles are a tie in to the Sencen crest, hand holding a candle. They could also represent how everything that's happened to him over the course of the books is slowly burning him out, and yet he's still desperately trying to help, and be a light for his friends.

The shapes surrounding the circle could be eyes, to represent the neverseen, or the petals of a flower. The flower would be to represent life. He's still alive and he's still going despite everything. His entire life was built on Gisela'a dream for the neverseen and her own plans though, hence why the petals are eyes.

The flowers on his necklace are a tie-in to the flowet bead necklace he made for his mother when he was little.

The petals are in a sort-of gradient from white to green. This is supposed to symbolize all the shit that's happened in recent years, and all the deaths and sadness that have piled up. There's still a ring of white though, to represent that throughout this he's still the same person. That he's still a good person.

Only one of his eyes is showing, and it's wide open. It's supposed to look a bit like the neverseen symbol.

In his outfit, you can see little heart symbols in the pattern, because he's an empath.

In the very back, the mismatched stripes are sort-of supposed to be the chaos and confusion that sort of goes with his character. His entire life is a mystery that only Gisela knows, and it's been a mess trying to figure it out. He doesn't know who he is or really why he even exists.

His eye earring is supposed to go with the Neverseen, and his sun earring is supposed to symbolize Icarus.

Sophie

The little pattern on her outfit is supposed to look like moonlark feathers !

Her outfit is blue because like. Red is her color, canonically, but her whole thing is supposed to be going against whats expected of her and making changes, so! Blue.

I tried to make her hair like. sunrise-ish colors. Since shes sort of like? A new beginning for the Lost Cities? If that makes sense?

Her little hair part has the silhouette of hope.

The circle outline in the back is supposed to be the cognate ring.

The shapes surrounding the circle are little wolf claws, to go with her dire wolf Team Valiant symbol.

The stars inside the circle are supposed to be her three human family members, and then her star off to the side.

The three blood drops are supposed to be the three main deaths that have effected her. Kenric, Calla, and Forkle 1.

The three leaves outlining the circle are supposed to be Edaline, Grady, and Jolie. Something something theyre leaves because wanderlings and Jolie's death was all they could see before Sophie came to them.

The leaves are right next to the fire because Brant killed jolie with fire !

Fire in the bottom right corner because. Every single fucking thing that has happened to her regarding fire. (Also Fintan possibly being her dad)

There are 11 stripes in the top right corner for her 11 main friends.

The rose is supposed to be the rose in the Ruewen family crest.

The red stripes in the top left corner are supposed to sort of look like her inflicting lazers.

The feathers are swan feathers.

The white triangles in the bottom left corner are alicorn horns (hence the sparkles).

Dex

The 4 circles on his necklace are the triplets and him. The bottom one hanging down could be either Dex or Rex, I think.

His shirt is sort of funky? I wanted it to be a bit like Slurps-and-Burps, I guess. A tiny bit different from the others.

Stars on his shirt! For when he and Sophie went star-gazing for a homework assignment.

The branch in thr background is supposed to be from his wanderling.

Fire! Because of his whole thing with it bc. You know. Tortured by it and shit. Also, just in general, this series can't go five minutes without fire being mentioned. So.

The little oval above it is supposed to be a bit linke a finger print? Because he still has that mark from when he got tortured. It was also supposed to look a bit like a sand dollar, because he got kidnapped on the beach.

Swan at the top! (It doesn't look much like a swan bc I did it with no reference. :()

It has a green eye because Neverseen! And how they've caused all this death and shit in his life.

Theres a gear at the top because he's a technopath.

In the back it's a bit hard to see but. There are little lines throughout thr black spaces. They were supposed to look a bit like wires. Technopath.

The circle inside the gear is supposed to be his Team Valiant gem, in his circlet.

Three water drops for the triplets.

Theres water at the bottom, partly because of the beach where he got snatched, but also partly because of like. His somewhat melting relationship with his mom after the Black Swan reveal? Since shes a Froster.

Behind the drops there's five stripes, to represent his whole family.

Idk theres a lot of family symbolism in this because its like? Such an important part of his character? Their reputation is what makes up so much of his motivations, especially in the earlier books.

Marella

Her hair was supposed to look a bit like fire.

Fire shapes on her outfit.

She has a little heart pin on her outfit because of her earlier ambitions to be an empath.

Eyes on her necklace for the neverseen. The orange triangles are for fire and thr blue ovals are for water. Because of her training practice with Linh.

The 3 dots on either side of her outfit are for the other three horsegirls of the apocolypse. Linh, Maruca, and Stina.

The wrinkles on her sleeves were also supposed to look a bit like fire? Not sure how well that worked out though.

There are 5 stars on her earrings to represent the five pyrokinetics deaths that caused the ban on her ability. They're stars bc her name means star of the sea.

The pink/yellow/blue stipe on the left is supposed to represent the torch she had in the ending of stellarlune, bc those are the colors is turned.

Exillium beads above the stripes to represent her relationship with Linh and how she was angry that Sophie didn't ask her to come with her in Neverseen.

The waves above the beads are supposed to tie into her "star of the sea" name.

Above that is Fintan's ear :). The moon earring hanging down is supposed to be like, controlling the waves? And they're supposed to represent Marella's name so it's like. Fintan manipulating her during their training sessions.

The sun at the very top because like. fire. sun.

Little wind at the top right corner for her dad, Durand, whose a guster.

The shape on the right is the balcony that her mom fell off.

The vines growing up it are supposed to sort of represent death? Her mother didn't die, but I'd assume they probably mourned her a bit like they did with Alden. She's not totally gone but she'll never be the same as she once was.

Theres a salamander climbing up the balcony because of the myth that they're immune to fire, and how pyrokinetics are supposedly immune to fire but can still be effected by everblaze. If that makes sense?

There are little yellow dots scattered throughout the background that are supposed to be like. Little sparks from fire.

Linh

She has a moon earring to sort of represent control over waves and shit.

Same thing goes for the moon above her head!

Her registry pendant is like? Simpler? Compared to the others, since she was banished and all that.

Dots on her outfit are exillium beads if it wasnt clear. :)

The symbol on her jacket (?) are rainclouds.

The lines on her sleeves are supposed to look like rivers.

Purple handprint in the background because of her exillium placing.

The stairs behind it are supposed to be the stairs at Tiergan's house. There are 6, one for each person who lived there at some point.

The little red/blue drops and sea are like. The blood slowly turning into water/ her taking control over her ability.

It could also be all the ogres she probably killed when she flooded Ravagog.

The 6 stars beside the moon are to represent all the Endal-Alenfars.

The darker star is Rayni.

The plants at the top are supposed to sort of represent the gnomes they lived with. They make a dome shape, to sort of symbolize the dome surrounding Atlantis.

The flowers at the ends of the vines(?) are supposed to represent her and Tam.

The cattails at the very top are because they grow near water and Linh had to grow up near the water, even though she couldn't control it yet because of her parents.

The dragonfly was Diras idea :)

The purple and red in the background is sort of like. Who she was at exillium and in general (sweet, helpful, whatever, etc.) vs like. That darker part of her that flooded Ravagog.

Tam

He has a sun earring to sort of parallel Linh's moon. The sun has like. A bit to do with shadows if I remember 4th grade science well enough.

Exillium beads on his outfit :)

He's wearing the Endal crest because like. I think they're more important than his actual family will ever be. (It also annoys me a tiny bit that him and Linh are wearing the Song crest in almost all of their official art.)

He and Linh have the same like. Set of earrings. One gold and one silver.

Like Linh, his registry pendant is also simpler compared to the others.

The blue/black color scheme on his outfit is supposed to sort of go with him and Linh's ability colors.

Two buttons on his outfit for him and Linh.

Behind him is a shadow, to go with his ability. There are also like. Smaller shadows throughout.

Above the shadow's head is a crown. It's supposed to be the one from Legacy, when Tam had to blast Keefe.

Above him are like. 2 stars and 4 little dots. The stars are him and Linh, and the rest are the other Endal-Alenfars.

The line in the middle is supposed to represent his ambi placing in Exillium.

The top right corner is Eternalia/ the Tribunal Hall, where Linh got banished.

The top left is Exillium.

The sky like? Gets a bits brighter as it transitions from the Tribunal to Exillium to sort of represent how they were more free? I guess? Even if it wasn't ideal, they were away from their parents and they had power over their lives at least a bit.

The bottom right is the river that they lived beside in book 4 that Linh parted for them.

Beside the river are little pebbles in sets of twos for Tam and Linh.

In the bottom left is the staircase to Tiergans house.

Around the line in the middle are little flowers. From left to right they represent: Wylie, Rayni, Tiergan, Prentice, and Linh.

and that is the end of the list 👍 thank god

Tag list:

@skylilac @callas-pancake-tree @arson-anarchy-death @steal-nightmares-leave-dreams @abubble125 @purplesoup-lad-le @gay-otlc @thefoxysnake @keeper-of-the-lost-dadwin @remember-me-in-another-time @kamikothe1and0lny @you-have-been-frizzled @presidentroarie @cowboypossume @even-if-in-another-time @that-glasses-dog @slozhnos @treehouse-arson @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat @purpleunicycle @frogs-and-flowers-and-faeries @unidentifiedimp @florida-preposterously @stopstealingtomatoes

[housederiva]

I just finished writing the last chapter of Coming Back to Roost which you can read here! I've also put the first of the chapters underneath the cut xx

It's a retelling of the beginning of Lucanis recruitment mission but with more Crow Rook back story and interaction with Viago and Teia

(also thank you so much for 900 hits on it so far, I'm glad people seem to like it!)

The group had been standing before the eluvian for what felt like hours now, though it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Bellara insisted on poking and prodding each and every corner of the mirror she could reach before any of the others so much as breathed in its general direction. Which was fine by Rook as it gave her a moment to take in what it felt like to be in the Fade while not being actively threatened or hunted. Her blood could be mistaken for being aerated now that she focused on in, it was the same sensation as sailor would get before an incoming storm.

Much of Bellara’s ministrations were filled with humming and quiet murmurs that couldn’t quite be understood. While the inspection took place, Harding busied herself with examining a small patch of clover before finally selecting the exact one she wanted to pluck and tuck safely within her satchel for later pressing in her journal.

“So, how’d you get so good at fixing eluvians?” She asked once the cutting was slipped away.

“Hm? Oh, it’s mostly a survival thing,” Bellara didn’t look away from where the edge of the mirror met its frame as she answered, “Accidentally release a couple demons or rile up local wildlife with misdirected magic a few times and you learn what not to do.”

Harding chuckled nervously, “Ah well… practice makes perfect, I guess.”

It wasn’t lost on Rook how Neve kept glancing off into the distance towards a secondary eluvian. Unlike the one before them, which was cradled in the arches of Treviso like a lover’s embrace, the one that caught her eye was surrounded by the unmistakable architecture of Minrathous, jagged like that same lover’s scorn. Harding’s anxious banter with Bellara did nothing to draw anything close to a smile on the detective’s face. Too lost in thought to listen in, Rook supposed.

She moved back under the guise of not wanting to be her fellow elf’s stepping stool so that higher sections of the glass could be reached. Only stopping her stride when she got to Neve’s side.

“We’ll go to Minrathous as soon as we get back from Treviso,” Rook said, “Requests like this usually don’t take long.”

Where Neve had a sort of reverence in her stare - a longing for the familiar, Rook had wariness and an urge to forget. While Rook was most likely born there too, it was never her home like it was for Neve. Her childhood spent in its suffocating walls was full of laughter while for Rook, there wasn’t even a childhood to begin with. To her fellow mage, the walls were never suffocating and the people were kind – or at least they could be. Rook had cruelty and a cage coloring her vision, it blinded her at times.

Neve sighed, gently pressing two fingers into the soft spot below her eye socket where her bruise was the deepest, “It’s not all as bad as…” She trailed off, taking in the way Rook was staring at the secondary eluvian, “There are good people in Minrathous, Rook.”

“How would I know?” She sighed in turn, pushing away the seed of spite in her chest before it could fester into resentment. Neve and the Shadow Dragons weren’t at fault for the injustices dealt Rook’s way. They weren’t to blame for the people pressed under more powerful thumbs then the resistance could lift. She was once just one back bowed out of many, no need to be remembered or afforded special treatment in the grand scheme of things, “It’s hard to go sightseeing when you’re at the beck and call of a man more powerful than you.”

“Rook I-”

“Okay!” Bellara called out with several claps, effectively, and unknowingly, stopping the conversation before it could begin.

Harding, the ever-watchful scout, darted her eyes away from the two of them and back towards the mirror. The sad expression switched to embarrassment when she was caught staring.

Varric had said that Harding just needed time to deal with everything. But Rook had known her for months now, this wasn’t the same despondent sadness she had when they ran into a hitch in their plans. Harding looked lost, defeated. There was a grief knitted into her brow that had been more prevalent in the last week than any day before.

“Great work Bellara,” Harding spoke up before Rook could, smiling in that gentle way that made her believe everything was alright.

The compliment was waved off before any others could be added, “Pshh, All I did was double triple check the attunement spheres and a few other things, it’s no biggie.”

“It’s safe though, right?” Neve rested her hand on her hip, putting her weight off her prosthetic as she stared up skeptically to the rippling reflection of the city before them.

“Yes! Most likely…maybe.”

Before a deeper hole could be stuttered into, Rook put her hand on Bellara’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze “If you say it’s good, then it’s good.”

She was expecting at worst a despondent shrug and at best a half-felt delayed agreement from the other women after asking if they were ready to go. If Varric were there and not back at the Lighthouse resting, he’d give a short and sweet speech about being able to show off the sights of her city and how amazing it’d be that they would be home in time for the dinner Bellara was so excited about making.

Instead of the laughter or an eye roll that he would have drawn out, she got three nods in unison, succinct like the speech she skipped out on.

It was only then that she released the tension in her shoulders, a bad habit she was never quite able to break out of, and let the gravity of what she was about to do fully sink in.

She was going home.

In her letter to Teia sent ahead through the eluvian with the aid of a crow conjured by her magic, she had explained what had happened in the most concise way she was able. Rook wasn’t expecting the ball of electric energy she had given wings to return with a letter penned by Teia’s own hand.

The messenger sent was a trick she had learned from one of the few other Crows capable of magic, maybe her proficiency with it was how Viago convinced the former Head of de Riva to keep her around in the first place. Her teacher in that regard was Marcio de Riva, a Crow only a few years older than herself. The skill and experience he had when they first met made her look like an infant in comparison. But, any resentment for him she had as a child had since bloomed into admiration.

Teia’s response was one sentence long, tucked elegantly within the paper sheet folded into a diamond: Come home.

Rook could hear the distant chiming of harbor bells where the freshwater of the canal met the salt of the ocean. The crickets and cicadas buzzed alongside the lapping of water and creaking of floorboards. When she breathed out the stiffness her body held, the unmistakable smell of damp earth and seaweed washed over her. It was a scent that could not be duplicated anywhere else in Thedas and one she would make a candle out of were she able.

It had been over a year now since she was home. Thirteen months and twelve days since she was sent away. In that time, Rook had only ever gotten one letter from her Talon. It was dated six months beforehand and got to her four prior.

Idiot, the page began, which all in all was a good start, considering everything. I hope you’re reading this. That was all she needed to know that he still cared. However, to not go over the rest of Viago’s letter would be a disservice to the elegant swirl of ink that made up his chastising.

His handwriting had always been a comfort to her, a fact she knew Viago was well aware of. The first time she had ever seen her name written on paper, the name he gave her, it was penned by his hand. When she was young, Rook had spent hours late into the night after training copying the way the tale of the R curled.

It was Viago’s handwriting that she had learned to read by all those years ago. His that she had learned to unintentionally mimic. The same curve of the R and the G, the strike of the S's tail and the dot of the I. She didn’t have the shaky uncertain handwriting of a slave trying to be more. There were no words to express how grateful she was for that. Several heads of other houses were much less kind to their roost than Viago was to his.

He had a sternness, yes. A pension for annoyance and an unrelenting need for perfection for those under him. Rook could never say any of it bordered on cruelty. De Riva was lucky to have Viago, her family all knew that.

They had members better suited for teaching a slave how to read, but Rook had curled her tiny little hand into the cuff of his jacket she held onto far too often as a child. She only had to ask once for him to say that he would try.

That closeness was a problem, she knew that now and, while it hurt, understood the distance put between them when he became the head of de Riva and later the Fifth Talon. Any and all softness that Viago gifted her and others could be seen as a weakness. She was a possible poison he couldn't build an immunity to. Of course he sent her away after her blunder with the Antaam. She couldn't be seen as an exception to the House’s standards.

The letter Viago had sent was a scolding, a reminder of her mistake and that she could return home after helping Varric. Despite the cold tone of the letter's center, she held onto it. With the aid of a small ball of veil fire, she’d read the opening and closing whenever the regret of being cast out became too much to hold. Teia told her once that his strengths were in beginnings and ends. Rook never fully understood what she meant by that, she’d like to think she could see the sentiment reflected in the letter.

Don’t get careless out there. Don’t fail. And don’t get yourself killed, or I will come after you in the Fade myself. The blackened ink that closed his reminder at her superior’s lingering annoyance had a blue tinge that the rest lacked, signaling that it was written at a different time. ‘Don’t be careless’ was one of the first lessons her Talon taught her. In fact, those were among the first words Viago said to Rook.

Over the years, she had watched countless parents kiss their children on the top of their head’s goodbye with a request for them to be safe before sending them on their way. Viago always told her not to be careless. Before any outing and every mission, it would be accompanied by a nod that she would mirror back without hesitation. She never had the tenderness of a parent’s goodbye. Viago’s unspoken worry would always be worth more.

The first kindness ever afforded Rook’s way was the day Viago killed the man who kept her enslaved. A spice merchant from Minrathous who, in Rook’s opinion, wasn’t important. The terms leading to the man’s contract were never shared with her, not that she ever asked. She supposed it didn’t matter now.

In the quiet of night, she could still hear the way Crows that were now dead snickered when he brought her home.

Those same gossiping Crows claimed that Viago took pity on her simply because Rook looked eerily familiar to Teia from a distance and similar to him upon closer inspection. Though none would be stupid enough to remark on the coincidence within either’s earshot.

Coffee black hair that sat in curls at the nape of her neck when she attempted to take care of it, tan skin a mix of the two of theirs. Her eyes were brighter in direct sunlight but, in the blanket of Treviso’s night, were the same slate blue as Viago’s.

Whatever the reasoning for his lapse in judgement, it led to Rook bleeding out in Viago’s arms while she clutched onto the leather of his jacket. She could still feel the way her blood gurgled in her throat as she drowned. Now she wanted nothing more than the comfort of gripping onto his jacket as he muttered out with annoyance, “Well, that was rather careless of you.”

The two of them decided that she was at youngest fourteen and at oldest sixteen when her throat was stitched together and dressed.

Her former master ordered Rook to stand in front of him as a shield when Viago came for his contract. Without hesitation, she had complied. When the man realized that was not going to stop his soon to be assassin, he slit her throat in a bid for distraction.

It didn't work.

That first night in Antiva, other Houses had swarmed around her like vultures, appraising her as one would a lamb for slaughter. Giuli Arainai, the Eighth Talon, had grabbed the bottom of her chin with such force she thought her jaw would crack. Viago moved from his place after one stern look to their previous Guild Master before he draped his coat over her bare shoulders, drawing her close to his side.

“I take responsibility for her,” he had said with unwavering eye contact to his predecessor, “She will not be a disgrace to our House.”

Viago was impulsive when he was younger. It was the same kind that he reprimanded her for now. But, had he not moved then, she would have ended up in a warehouse pitted against other slaves fighting for scraps of food only to be tortured by crueler Crows.

“Rook?” Neve led the charge of the others looking at her skeptically, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, yes. We have the Demon of Vyrantium to get” She cleared her throat, giving the group the smile closest to Varric’s she could mimic, “With any luck, we’ll be back before dinner.”