#volatile’s metal leather blood and sweat

[volatile95]

Very old sketch huh

Thank you my dear @marshalllir for all your support

[littlest-w01f]

Heartburn

Sylus x MC

SYLUS MASTERLIST

FULL FANFICTION SUBMISSION FOR where drakeshadows fall contest

WORDCOUNT: 5K+

Summary: Finding an injured dragon out in the dead caves of Tarus City, doesn't end in the way MC quite imagined

Cw: Elements of fluff and angst, annoyed strangers to lovers? Not really *enemies* enemies

Heartburn

-A burning sensation in the central chest or upper central abdomen.

Rumours had long circulated about the fabled dragon beast who once called the crumbling spires of Tarus City their home, but most believed them to be more than a myth. Until now.

The ancient stone walls seemed to whisper as MC cautiously ventured deeper into the forgotten keep. Dust motes danced in the slanted beams of sunlight filtering through narrow windows high above. She ran a hand along the weathered battlements, imagining the grandeur this place must have held centuries ago, when it was more than just ruins.

With the heart of an explorer and hunter, MC had found herself miles away from her home village to the remote fields of the city. Suddenly, a faint rustling echoed from a cave ahead, sounding like wings, and a man's grunting, causing MC to freeze. Her pulse quickened as she drew her dagger, its worn leather handle fitting comfortably in her grip.

As the eerie sounds grew louder, MC crept closer to the cave entrance, her senses heightened. The air inside carried a pungent scent of sulfur and the metallic tang of blood. With each cautious step, the ground beneath her boots crunched under layers of dust and debris.

Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed before her, blocking out the dim light filtering in from behind. MC's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the fearsome creature emerging from the darkness - a dragon like those she had seen and heard told of only in tales. Its scales glistened like polished obsidian, beside the humanoid face and body, horns growing from his silver hair, reflecting the faint illumination in an otherworldly sheen.

He growled when his crimson eyes met hers, pushing himself on his forearms, the muscles in his arms tensing, that's when MC noticed that he was injured. The smell of blood was coming from him, and his tail, scaled, held a deep gash in it.

Sylus' gaze locked onto MC, piercing and intense. A low rumble emanated from his chest, almost a warning, yet there was something else in those fiery eyes, a flicker of pain, perhaps even desperation. His movements were laboured, each push of his forearms against the earth leaving trails of sweat and dirt marring his otherwise pristine form. "Did you do this?" He demanded, eyes on the dagger MC was holding, "You humans and your weapons. You could never keep up with us..." He seemed too angry to continue what he wished to say and let out a rough growl that nearly shook the cave.

MC stood frozen, her mind racing to comprehend the situation unfolding before her. This magnificent being, clearly a dragon from her books, spoke with a velvety tongue, albeit one laced with venomous disdain. The anger radiating from Sylus was palpable, his words cutting through the thick air like a blade.

She slowly lowered her dagger, keeping it at the ready should hostilities escalate further. "No, I didn't attack you," MC replied calmly, trying to soothe the volatile situation. "I'm not here to hunt." She was a hunter, but she doubted the dragon would like to hear that.

Sylus looked up at her, and with a single blink, his crimson eyes softened, "Will you help me then?"

A glimmer of surprise crossed MC's face at the sudden shift in Sylus' demeanour. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options carefully. The last thing she expected was to encounter a wounded dragon seeking aid.

"I... Suppose so," MC said finally, taking a tentative step closer. "But first, tell me why you're here, and how did you get hurt?" She kept her voice gentle, sensing the fragility of the sudden truce between them. As she neared, the extent of Sylus's injuries became clearer, the gash on his tail, it didn't appear too big or deep, but he was losing blood, the pallor of his skin, and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. It was clear this mighty creature needed assistance, and fast.

In front of her eyes, the dragon's tail healed, and MC found herself losing her balance, she felt claws at her head, banging her against the cave rocks. "I can stink a liar from a mile away!" He hissed, his tail curling around him, pointing at her temple, going down her cheeks, to her throat.

Panic set in as Sylus' talons dug into MC's skin. His hot breath washed over her, reeking of smoke and making her dizzy. She tried to struggle, but the dragon's hold was unyielding, his grip tightening around her slender neck.

"You tried to deceive me," Sylus growled, his voice a menacing hiss close to her ear. "Humans are all the same – sneaky, manipulative. I knew better than to trust one."

Realization dawned on MC as the pieces fell into place, that she in fact had been the one to hurt him. The flamed arrowhead she'd tested earlier, the one that had flown wildly off target, that is why she probably smelled like it to the beast. It must have struck Sylus, wounding him gravely on his tail. The memory of her carelessness hit her like a punch to the gut.

"No, wait! Please listen," MC pleaded, her voice strained as Sylus' claws constricted around her throat. "It wasn't intentional! I was testing a new weapon and lost control. I never meant to harm you."

Sylus' grip loosened slightly at MC's desperate plea, his burning gaze searching her face for any hint of deception. After a tense moment, he released her completely, allowing her to slump back against the rocky wall, gasping for air as he roared. "SO IT WAS YOU!"

"Why would I believe you now after your deceit? You are a liar-" Sylus growled, his tone still heavy with suspicion. MC, out of fright, shut her eyes, keeping them closed but the dragon's claw never came to cut her into pieces, only a frustrated growl came as she felt her own hand lifted.

An enchanted golden hue hummed softly against their skin, pulsing with an otherworldly energy, joining their wrists together. MC opened her eyes wide, staring at the cuff in shock and dismay.

Bound together. Chained to a dragon. MC couldn't believe herself, through the screaming she had done with Sylus, he had taken off, carrying her with him, through the skies. Fear surged through her as Sylus flew like MC was an annoying bug he was trying to get off him.

The wind whipped past MC's face, stinging her eyes and tugging at her hair as they soared through the clouds. She clung desperately to Sylus' scaly side, her knuckles white where they gripped him frantically. The world below dwindled to a patchwork of greens and browns, growing smaller with each passing second.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" She shouted over the roar of the wind, her voice barely audible. But her words fell on deaf ears as Sylus continued his relentless flight, the enchanted cuff binding them tighter with every passing second.

Sylus said nothing, he just began to dip, as if he were testing the grip of what bound them together, while MC couldn't help but pray that the link between them didn't disappear as fast as it had appeared

Sylus' descent was steep and swift, sending MC's stomach plummeting into her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never came. Instead, the dragon levelled out, hovering mere feet above the dense canopy of a lush forest. Towering trees stretched towards the sky, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze created by their passage.

With a powerful beat of his wings, Sylus landed gracefully among the branches, the impact jolting MC hard against his side. For a moment, they hung suspended, swaying slightly in the treetop embrace before the dragon shifted, settling them both onto a sturdy branch.

MC opened her eyes, blinking away the lingering spots of light, and took in their surroundings. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. "You!" She rasped out, even though the word held no bite, "How could-" She spoke through heavy breaths, "How-" Sylus watched in amusement, crossing his arms over his chest, forcing her closer through their link, as MC simply reached for her dagger, her legs quivering from the flight. "YOU!"

Sylus chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the magical bond connecting them. He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, his warm breath washing over her skin. "You think a little thing like a dagger will protect you from me now?" He taunted, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief.

MC's heart raced, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with the hilt of her weapon. But before she could draw it, Sylus' hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist in a vice-like grip. With a deft twist, he pried the dagger free and tossed it aside, the blade clattering uselessly to the forest floor far below.

MC's eyes widened in horror as she watched her dagger fall, the weight of its loss sinking in. She struggled against Sylus' iron grasp, but it was futile. His strength was immense, and the magical cuff ensured she couldn't break free.

"Let me go!" She demanded, her voice rising in desperation. "This isn't over!"

Sylus merely smirked, his expression unrepentant. "Oh, but it is," he said, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. "You're mine now, human. All tied to me." He pulled at their bond to punctuate his words, "What's going to happen now? Perhaps I'll keep you like my treasure." He taunted.

With those ominous words, he pulled MC flush against his chest, the heat of his scales seeping through the thin fabric of her clothing. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a reminder of the power that now controlled her fate.

"Is this what keeps you alive?" MC pulled another dagger from her bodice, pressing it against the red gem that made the center of his chest.

MC's eyes locked onto the crimson gem, her finger poised to plunge the dagger home. But Sylus' counter move caught her off guard, his claw finding her heart over her chest with uncanny precision. The hot scales of his claw met the warmth of her skin, a feeling that sent shivers down her spine.

Sylus almost seemed impressed with her. "Is this what keeps you alive?" He asked in return. His claw then rested over her chest, right over where her heart was. their bound wrists meeting in the middle.

The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving MC feeling vulnerable and exposed. She could hardly breathe, her lungs constricting under the pressure of his gaze and the physical restraint, yet she refused to back her dagger down. The dragon's presence seemed to fill the entire clearing, dwarfing everything else until it was just the two of them, bound by magic and circumstance.

Slowly, deliberately, Sylus tilted his head, bringing his face closer to hers, horns brushing her head. "I could devour you and there will be nothing left of you. But if you kill me, you'll have to carry the deadweight along. And who knows how long it takes for a human to starve to death, dangling from a tree?"

MC felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew he was toying with her, enjoying the power dynamic that favoured him. Sylus' words dripped with cruel amusement, his fiery gaze boring into MC's very soul. He could see the fear and uncertainty swirling in her eyes, the way her body trembled beneath his touch. It was intoxicating, knowing he held such control over her.

"You're playing a dangerous game, treasure," He warned, his claw applying gentle pressure to her chest, a silent threat, the nickname a taunt. "But I suppose I can appreciate the spirit."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Tell you what, treasure. I'll make you a deal. Keep that dagger sheathed, and I might just let you live... For a while longer, anyway." As they stood close, something like heartburn spread through his chest.

MC's heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turmoil within her. She swallowed hard, her mind racing to process the gravity of the situation. She was at the mercy of this dragon, forced to be with him till she could be free. The best she could do was find a way to stay alive.

"I understand" She managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

A flicker of surprise crossed Sylus' face at MC's acquiescence, but it was quickly replaced by a smug grin. "Good girl." He purred, his claw slowly retracting from her chest.

It had been days, nearly a week that MC was bound with the dragon, Sylus, in that time, they had learned each other's names, and that was enough for the two despite being linked to each other.

These days had passed since that fateful day when Sylus and MC had been chained to each other's sides. In that time, they had grown accustomed to each other's presence, learning to navigate the complexities of their unlikely bond.

At first, the silence between them had been oppressive, the only sound was the rush of wind and the occasional snort from the dragon, the random mentioning of his treasury, how he had collected the best things from the entire continent. Growls and groans from them when they had tried to share a bed for the first time, But gradually, they had begun to speak, exchanging small talk about their lives before the cuff had brought them together.

They had decided to stay at his cave, since MC couldn't possibly return home with a dragon as her hip, and had convinced Sylus to take her out into the fields once a day so she wouldn't feel cooped up. Sylus had stopped hissing at MC for ruining his first few hunts while they were trying to work around being bound, they had gone hungry those nights, and MC still was yet to hear the end of it.

MC found herself growing more comfortable in Sylus' presence. Gone were the initial jitters and fearful thoughts. Now, she could sit beside him in silence without feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

Their conversations, though infrequent, had become more natural. They would discuss the weather, the taste of the food they hunted, or the peculiarities of the landscapes they traversed. Occasionally, MC would regale Sylus with tales from her homeland, and he would listen intently, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity.

Despite their growing rapport, sleep remained a challenge for both MC and Sylus, all because of their different sleep schedules, while MC slept at night, Sylus chose to rest in the morning. The physical proximity required by the enchanted cuff meant they often found themselves tangled together during their sleep, their bodies reacting instinctively to each other's warmth and scent.

MC would wake up to find herself shoved down the bed, Sylus' grumbling sound telling her that she had been draped across his chest, but whenever her face nestled in the crook of his neck, his scales provided a soothing counterpoint to her soft skin. The dragon, too, would occasionally stir in his sleep, his claws gently kneading her stomach as he settled into a deeper slumber, horns digging into her cheek, but MC wasn't quite able to shove the giant dragon off her, so she would retalisate with a stab at his back, and watch fascinated and annoyed as he healed, not carrying enough to wake up.

These entanglements often led to brief, restless skirmishes as they adjusted to each other's presence. Grunts and muffled curses would punctuate the caves those times, followed by periods of tense quiet as they regained their composure.

MC discovered that beneath Sylus' gruff exterior lay a dry sense of humour and keen intelligence. He regaled her with tales of his kind, of ancient battles fought and won, of hidden treasures and forgotten lore. In turn, she shared stories of her own world, of the village she hailed from and the adventures she had wanted to embark upon.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the landscape, Sylus settled down on a rocky outcropping. MC sat beside him, her legs tucked under her as she gazed out at the vast expanse of wilderness stretching before them.

"So, tell me more about these ancient battles you have fought," MC prompted, her curiosity piqued by the tales Sylus had shared earlier. "What drove you to clash with the others?"

Sylus chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into MC's arm, which rested against him. "Ah, the eternal conflicts of our kind. Mostly, it was a struggle for dominance, for the right to rule over the skies and land alike, command the respect of all lesser creatures."

Sylus' eyes gleamed with a mix of nostalgia and pride as he spoke of his people's history. "We dragons were fiercely independent, but we also crave recognition and admiration. In the old days, a dragon's strength and cunning were the ultimate measures of worth."

He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "Of course, there were also disputes over territory, resources, and the... Romantic... Affections of certain folk." A scowl played on his lips at the mention of the latter. "Not that I am ever driven by such... Human... Emotions of love, or fear, or any really."

MC couldn't help but chuckle at Sylus' haughty declaration. "Oh really? Then why did you seem so bothered when I accidentally ruined your hunt a few weeks ago?" She cocked her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I mean, I've seen you sulk like a child denied a treat ever since. It was just a rabbit. That's an emotion, sulking, being angry and all. Disappointed."

"That was merely a minor setback," He growled, his voice taking on a defensive tone. "It is not my fault that your clumsy interference disrupted my well-planned strategy."

Despite his protests, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying his true feelings. "Besides, I suppose even a mighty dragon such as myself can appreciate a bit of... Company... On occasion." His gaze drifted to MC, and for a fleeting instant, something almost akin to affection flickered in his eyes before he looked away, clearing his throat. "However annoying as it may be."

Intrigued by the intricate markings on Sylus' palm, MC reached out tentatively, her fingers hovering just above his scaled skin. The dragon's crimson eyes narrowed slightly, but he made no move to stop her exploration. "May I?"

Sylus raised his brow, "What are you going to do? Read my hand like I'm some human?"

MC nodded, "Yes. I used to read my friends'. I could do it for you too."

With a slight smirk, Sylus extended his hand further, allowing MC to examine the intricate patterns etched into his palm. "Very well, little human. Go ahead and try to decipher the secrets of a dragon's destiny if you wish."

As MC's fingers brushed against his scales, Sylus felt a strange tingling sensation, as if the simple contact had awakened dormant nerve endings, giving him heartburn again, making him clear his throat hoping that would soothe the ache. He watched her closely, intrigued by her curiosity and the delicate way she explored his hand.

"What do you see?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Do the lines foretell great triumphs for me?"

"Well, this one," She traced a line on the inside of his claw, "Represents how old you will grow. This one, when you will find love." Sylus snorted at that but didn't interrupt much, then MC traced a different line, "And this shows your wealth and fortune." She looked up at him, "You already have that stolen, right?" She hummed, Sylus had wanted to throw her in his treasury, on the piles of gold, diamonds and rare gems, but that made it quite impossible without him staying there too, given their linkage.

When MC stroked a scar, Sylus spoke up, "Those are not lines, treasure." His tone teased, "That's a scar from a battle won."

"Oh," MC then hummed, "Well, then this one means you are powerful."

Sylus shook his head, "Now you are just making things up."

"So, this one doesn't mean you're beautiful?" She traced another scale, the bold statement out before she could stop herself.

Sylus let out a deep, rumbling laugh, clearly amused by MC's playful attempts to interpret his palm markings. "No, little human, that particular scale simply indicates the location of a particularly stubborn patch of scale on my claw."

His teasing words were laced with warmth, and MC could sense a genuine fondness beneath his gruff exterior. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, I think you're beautiful regardless," She said softly, her fingers lingering on his scales.

Sylus' laughter subsided, replaced by a contemplative silence. His chest was targeted with pains again. He looked away from MC, hating the twist in his chest.

Flying with Sylus was different now. He carried MC in his arms, soaring through the skies. For the first time, MC let herself see down the fields and not be scared of the height. She knew Sylus wouldn't drop her, not that he could with their link still intact.

As they flew, Sylus marvelled at the change in MC. Her initial terror had given way to wonder and exhilaration, her face alight with joy as she took in the breathtaking views unfolding below them. The trust she placed in him, despite everything, stirred something deep within the dragon's ancient heart. She trusted him, the thought left his chest tightened.

He tightened his grip slightly, pulling her closer against his chest as a particularly strong gust buffeted them. "Hold tight, treasure," he rumbled, his breath ruffling her hair. "The winds can be unpredictable at this altitude."

MC nodded, pressing herself more firmly into Sylus' embrace. She could feel the powerful play of muscles beneath his scales as he navigated the currents, each beat of his massive wings carrying them higher, faster. The sensation was exhilarating, almost addictive.

The wind made her ears close up, the feeling instead of scaring her made her laugh. Sylus heard the delightful sound of MC's laughter carried on the wind, mingling with the rush of air past their faces. It warmed his heart like no battle glory or hoarded treasure ever could. He felt a strange urge to protect this fragile, beautiful creature at all costs, to ensure her happiness above all else.

All of a sudden, their moment was broken by MC slipping out of Sylus' grasp, their link broken as MC began to freefall from the sky, her laughter cut off abruptly by a startled scream. Time seemed to slow as Sylus watched, horror-stricken, his precious cargo plummeting towards the unforgiving earth below. The broken link left him confused, too taken aback to intervene, chest burning as he felt his massive wings would be unable to reach her in time.

With a roar of anguish, Sylus dove after MC, his claws extended in a desperate bid to catch her. But the gap between them only widened, the wind tearing at his scales as he hurtled downwards. The landscape rushed up to meet them, a blur of green and brown.

Just as all hope seemed lost, Sylus managed to snag MC's arm with his talons, barely slowing her fall. He pulled up back into the sky, holding MC close to him as he regained his equilibrium. Once airborne again, Sylus gazed down at MC with a mixture of relief and concern etched across his features. She clung to him tightly, eyes wide with shock.

"Are you alright, treasure?" He asked, his voice low and soothing, tail coiled around her waist to hold her close to him. "Did you suffer any injuries during the fall?" Cupping her cheeks, he looked for any injuries.

MC breathed heavily, gripping his biceps hard, she was shaking slightly. She looked up at him, and a smile formed on her lips, "You like me-" She chuckled, her voice almost singing the words, laughter bubbling in her throat.

"I..." Sylus scoffed, his eyes locked onto hers, a tumult of emotions swirling within the depths of his irises. There was fear, worry, relief, but also something deeper, something he hadn't expected to feel for a human. A certain warmth spread through his chest, radiating outward, making his scales tingle. "I do... Not."

"Yes. I do not. I could drop you now on purpose and will not care." His tail softened around her waist, as if he would drop her, but at the same time, his arms tightened around her.

"I think you're lying," MC teased, poking Sylus' chest lightly. "Besides, if you really wanted to drop me, you would have done so already. If you wanted me gone you wouldn't have tried to hard to catch me."

She leaned back, looking up at him. Her eyes were bright, sparkling with mischief. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your secret affection for me, Sylus." Her tone was playful, yet there was an undertone of genuine concern.

Sylus' eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his throat at MC's teasing words, at his name on her lips. "You presume much, little human," He rumbled, his voice a mix of warning and reluctant amusement. "My actions are my own, not some declaration of affection." With that, he set MC down in the fields.

Sylus and MC exchanged a glance, both reaching out to touch the empty space where their link once resided, wrists free. The realization hit them simultaneously. Their unique connection had vanished without a trace.

After a few moments of silence, MC spoke up, "Are... Are we free now?" The words weren't as certain as she wanted them to be. A few days ago, she would've been thankful that the golden link between them was broken, but now, she wasn't so sure anymore

She glanced up at Sylus, her expression uncertain, searching for reassurance. "What happens now? Will we part ways and never see each other again?"

Sylus' gaze lingered on her, a complex mix of emotions playing across his features. Regret, perhaps, but also a hint of relief. He had grown accustomed to having her by his side, even if their circumstances were full of distant before.

"We will find our paths," He said finally, his voice measured. "You will return to your people, and I will resume my duties here." The words sounded final, but the way he avoided meeting her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

"I have to go back." MC nodded slowly, accepting his statement even as doubts niggled at the edges of her mind. "But, I don't have to leave today itself..." She shrugged, a gentle smile forming on her lips.

Sylus' eyes widened slightly at her words, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he schooled his expression into a neutral mask. "Is that so?" He rumbled, his tone cautious. "And what, pray tell, is keeping you here?"

MC's smile grew wider, a mischievous glint entering her eye. "Oh, just the prospect of spending more time with a certain dragon who claims not to care for me," She replied, her voice light and teasing. She reached out to brush a scale of Sylus' cheek, her fingers lingering on his warm skin. Sylus' nostrils flared, his breath catching in his throat at the intimate touch.

MC curiously moved where she sat all of a sudden, "Are… Are those dandelions?" She spoke, eyes trailing on a few little flowers.

Sylus' gaze followed MC's pointing finger, and indeed, amidst the rugged terrain, a few lone dandelions stood tall, their delicate small petals swaying gently in the breeze. "How... Unusual," He murmured, tilting his head in contemplation. "Flora is scarce here, especially something as benign as a weed."

Intrigued, Sylus shifted his body, and reached out a clawed hand towards the dandelions. With surprising gentleness, he plucked one of the flowers, bringing it closer to examine. The fine golden hairs on its stem caught the fading sunlight, casting a warm glow.

Now that he held the flower, he was unsure of what to do with it, "Would you like to hold it, human?" He said before he could stop himself.

MC was surprised by Sylus' offer, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. For a moment, she simply stared at the dragon, her mind racing to process this gesture. Slowly, hesitantly, she extended her hand, allowing Sylus to place the delicate dandelion in her palm. "Thank you, Sylus."

As soon as her fingers closed around the stem, a gentle puff of wind carried a few loose seeds drifting lazily through the air. MC watched, transfixed, as they danced and twirled, eventually settling on her shoulder and hair. A soft, wistful sigh escaped her lips.

"You know, back home, dandelions symbolize wishes and hope," She murmured, her gaze lingering on the tiny white tufts clinging to her dark locks. "People make a wish when they blow on the seeds, believing they'll carry their dreams far away."

Sylus found himself smiling, "Well, do you want to make a wish?" He rested against a nearby boulder, paying her his full attention.

A tender, nostalgic look crossed MC's face as she recalled the carefree childhood of her village. "I used to love doing that," She reminisced, her voice tinged with a bittersweet fondness. "Making wishes on dandelions, chasing fireflies at dusk, playing hide-and-behind among the wildflowers and bushes..."

Her thoughts drifted further, to the simple joys she'd left behind in pursuit of adventure and freedom. A faint melancholy coloured her expression, but it was quickly replaced by a determined spark in her eyes. She closed her eyes, making her wish she blew on the flower.

"That sounds lovely, treasure." He murmured, taking a seat right beside her, making her smile. The term wasn't fully mocking anymore, like he owned her, but it almost sounded like... Endearment

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the rolling hills, Sylus and MC sat together in comfortable silence. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that had surrounded them mere moments before.

MC closed her eyes, savouring the peaceful moment. The weight of her responsibilities, the constant need to prove herself, seemed to melt away in the presence of nature's serenity. When she opened her eyes again, she found Sylus watching her intently, his expression unreadable in the fading light. "Youuu like me-" She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Whatever makes you believe that, treasure." He shook his head, his long tail swishing the air and thumping gently against MC's back like a pendulum. Despite his nonchalant tone, Sylus couldn't help but relax further into the grassy terrain, his body language betraying a sense of contentment. He wrapped his tail more snugly around MC, providing a comforting warmth that seemed to seep into her very bones.

The steady beat of his tail against her set MC to sleep, with a sigh, she curled around her lap. Sylus tensed at the way she rested on his lap, the sight of her like that made his heart too heavy, feel too much. His chest started burning again. Heartburn. He felt it again.

Something like fear chilled through Sylus' bones at the thought of never feeling this full again, at his heart, never feeling like his heart was about to stop like this. MC would leave, probably never return, how would he be man enough to deserve her? Could he ever be more than a monster feared, hated and hunted by the rest of the villages? He wasn't really sure. But she had called him beautiful. And that was good enough for him.

Wetness brimmed his eyes, he gasped, trying to stay quiet so he wouldn't disturb her, the heartburn was making him feel, fear, it was fear, so much fear.

Tears pricked at the corners of Sylus' eyes, threatening to spill over. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the moisture, but it only seemed to intensify the sensation. The lump in his throat grew, making it difficult to draw breath.

MC stirred slightly in her sleep, nuzzling closer to Sylus' lap. Even in her sleep, she sought comfort in his presence, unaware of the turmoil brewing within him. Her trust in him, her acceptance despite everything, it was a weight he didn't know how to bear.

With a shuddering exhale, Sylus surrendered to the overwhelming emotions, letting the tears flow freely down his scaled cheeks, the liquid evaporating with how his cheeks were burning. He held MC tighter with his tail, wrapping a wing around her, as if afraid she might disappear if he let go, even for a moment.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he felt his chest impossibly tightened. Heartburn, he would call it. Until he wasn't so scared to call it love.

Love. The word echoed in Sylus' mind, resonating deeply within his chest. It was foreign, yet familiar, terrifying, yet exhilarating. He had never allowed himself to consider such feelings, not after what he had become. But here, at this moment, with MC safe in his embrace, he couldn't deny it any longer.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the storm of emotions to subside, but they only intensified, swirling within him like a maelstrom. Fear, longing, hope - all tangled together in a mess of uncertainty.

Sylus' sobs were silent, save for the occasional hitch in his breathing. He buried his face in the crook of MC's neck, his hot tears soaking into her hair as he struggled to contain the depth of his emotions.

His tail, usually so strong and confident, now trembled with vulnerability. It wrapped protectively around MC, as if to shield her from the intensity of his feelings. Each ragged breath he took seemed to shake his entire being, his body quivering with the force of his pent-up longing.

For a long while, he simply held her, allowing himself to be overwhelmed by the tidal wave of sentimentality. It was a release he had denied himself for far too long, a catharsis born from the profound connection he shared with the girl in his arms.

Heartburn. Yes, he would call it heartburn for now.

Please make sure to interact with my Instagram post: here

Where the main submission will be seen

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 5? 6?

Yeah, I'm losing count lol. I applied to join Ao3 as well though so this will also go there, but I will keep posting it here too. Thank you to everyone reading. It's been very cathartic writing Sentry since I put a lot of myself into him.

As always, trauma and violence content warning!

Enver Gortash/Trans male Tiefling Durge

As he walked down the stairs, he expected chanting, the reverent noises of a temple, but instead he heard clicking, whirring, the occasional hiss of steam releasing from a valve somewhere and as the torch light illuminated the path before him, he noticed that the walls and floor were smudged in places with oil rather than blood and he caught the scent of electricity heavy in the air. Strange. When the room finally loomed before him, he found himself in a strange sort of forge or maybe a workshop. It was impressive, wall to wall with machinery and parts. Strange contraptions whirred and buzzed around him and he smiled despite himself. It reminded him of the copper dreadfuls he was so fond of, the type of short novel you could buy on a street corner where a madman resurrects a corpse without magic or creates a clockwork army. He paused only briefly to admire the wonder of creation before his eyes fell on the seat at the work bench where the subject of his inspiration sat, dressed in a simple linen shirt and breeches, magnificent gauntlet replaced with thick leather gloves, those eyes that haunted his visions covered by a pair of thick artificer's goggles. Sentry slowly walked over to Gortash, the urge to grab him by the throat and see what his tools could do when set to flesh rather than iron was only slightly less than the urge to lean in and peek at what he was doing. The tiefling stepped back slightly when Gortash put up a hand, shooing him backwards. “I'm afraid I can't allow you any closer without the proper protection, my dear Executioner.” The Tyrant chastised him. “ As you can see, my work is quite volatile and an errant splash of chemicals or too great a spark could damage those eyes and I would hate to feel responsible for robbing an artist of his sight.”

“You're awfully calm for a man with an assassin in his seemingly secret workshop.” Sentry folded his arms somewhat petulantly across his chest, but he did step back regardless. The burn on his face aching as he thought of sparks and fire. “Perhaps if you were here to kill me, perhaps if we weren't among some of my best creations. But here and now? Why shouldn't I be calm? You've come to make good on that offer to paint my portrait.” Enver didn't even look up from his project, his tone smooth, pleasant, matter of fact. Sentry was silent a moment. This man was the only person short of his own family who didn't fear him. It was all at once frustrating, exciting, and perhaps a little arousing. “Fine, you're right. I need to paint you and I can't do it from memory, no matter how hard I try. It's vexing.”

Gortash smirked and set down his tools, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and then standing and raising his goggles. The grease and soot of his materials stained skin and cloth alike and sweat mingled with metal and electricity in the air as he closed the distance between Sentry and himself. “Emerald, not black.” Sentry commented. “Of course. All the writings on Bane said so.” “What?” “Your eyes.” The Tiefling explained, fighting the warmth he felt spreading across his cheeks and nose. Their bodies were so close, he could feel the warmth of someone who had worked hard enough to build up a sweat, laboring in a boiling workshop for hours. The scent was intoxicating. He shook his head and righted himself. “At any rate, do you want to be painted covered in filth or are you going to change?” The teasing glint in Gortash's eyes was not lost on Sentry as Bane's chosen took one step back. “Ah, of course not. Ever the professional, I see. Well, in that case come along, it's not an easy thing to find your way around here without a guide.” And with that, he started towards the stairs. Sentry hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath and nodding before gripping the strap of the rucksack on his back and following after his most gracious host. They ascended the stairs in silence until they were back in the empty room. Sentry watched as Gortash muttered a word and made a quick gesture at the wall that should have led into the house and a simple wooden door appeared. “After you, my dear Executioner.” He gestured through the door and Sentry stepped through, finding himself in a well appointed hall way. A deep red carpet ran through it and mahogany tables set with various busts or vases of flowers lined the walls. Portraits hung as well, ones he recognized as important figures in the city's history, interspersed here and there with famous Banites. Gortash followed him through the door and took the lead again, bringing him to a heavy oak door, but unlike the other doors, a golden demon head stood prominently on it. There was no knob or handle, simple that head set at the center. Sentry regarded it curiously as Gortash spoke to it in infernal, a word Sentry recognized, a simple one most tiefling's would, it meant 'open'. The room inside was magnificent, draped heavily in reds and golds, the materials the finest and most fashionable in the city. However, Sentry did notice that none of it particularly seemed personal. It was all what one would expect from nobility, set to the predilections and tastes of Baldur's Gate's high born without a hint to the dweller's own self. It was set dressing, he realized. He had seen Gortash's true inner sanctum, the workshop. Hell fire and metal, electricity and the spark of creation. This was for the patriars, for business associates. The heat returned to Sentry's cheeks as he wondered why he'd been allowed to see more.

“Rest here a while. I'll need to wash up, as you said, so my portrait will be perfect. After all, you're painting history, my friend!” Gortash's smile in this room was so different, like a politician. It fascinated the tiefling to see the room reflected in everything about him.

“Sure...You won't get all pissed if I sketch while I wait and some charcoal gets on your nice bedspread?” Sentry quirked a brow. “Of course not, dear Executioner, my home is your home.” The Tyrant smirked, gesturing a bit too widely to beg sincerity. “You can call me Sentry.”

“Alright, my dear Sentry, then.” And with that, Gortash left the room, the door shutting behind him with a click. Sentry tensed slightly at the click. Locked in. Locked in. Locked in. His charcoal scratched an ugly line down the sketchbook page and the image that began to form was of a small, dark, locked room and the small frightened child inside. Nausea began to sweep over him and he fought the urge to vomit. Locked in again.

[bluestmoons]

1. alias/name: Serena!

2. birthday: February 3rd!

3. zodiac sign: Aquarius! 

4. height: 5′8"? I literally don’t know I have no idea, but I’m tall-ish 

5. hobbies: RP!!! Umm,,, I don’t know what counts as hobbies, but! Playing Sims! Making up stories/characters! Learning German! Transcribing! Making friends!  

6. favorite colors: PINK, orange/gold, green, and purple! 

7. favorite books: I always say “my own” and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke so let’s go with that!! I haven’t read a real book in a bit though. 😭

8. last song listened to: “why do you feel so down?” by Declan McKenna ( JKLFDJAKLFDA ONE IN THE SAME... )

9. last film or show watched: Kimi no Suizou wo Tabetai! 

10. inspiration for muse: I think most people would just pick one muse but let me just go down the list and pick things that remind me of/inspire me about my muses and/or why I picked them up!  ELSA: Purples and blues, cold weather and forests, dizzying castles, tinkling bells, snow and ice ( duh?? ), icicles, Norwegian patterns, deep purple velvets, isolation, the scratch of a quill, and the taste of tears. She reminded me a lot of my childhood. ERK: Purple silk and burlap, old books, exhaustion, disgust, burning hands. He reminds me a lot of one of my husband’s characters.  ERIC: Bright white sand and green-blue seas, cream castles, the taste of salt and the feel of rope, wet dog smell, the deck of a ship at sea, sunlight, parenthood. I love his goofy light-heartedness.  FINIS: Feathers, sheer clothing, long hair, tears caught in eyelashes, sad arias, inky quills against parchment, repetitive motions, purple flowers, a broken body that never shatters, fire, bloody throats, overwhelming sorrow, the concept of immortality, the feel of grass between toes, small boxes, cages, deep breaths, immeasurably empty/lonely, the depths of the ocean, moons!!, comets, blue-white, gray. I’m literally in love with her, so.  ICHIGO: Serious focus, the scrape of metal, uncontainable emotion, logic, hair clips and short hair, dark blue and green, obsessive thought, quick footsteps, position and pain of leadership, strawberries and the number 15, sweet tastes, ache of desperation, regrettable words yelled in the heat of the moment, small stature. I mostly picked her up in step with Kristopher picking up Goro but I love my little kiddo so much... so short, so powerful...  ITSUKI: Nice cologne, athleticism, nice big watches, subterfuge, smells, loss of personal space, pretty boys, lightning/static, unrequited longing, eyes closed, green and hazel, basil, silent admiration, Othello. I genuinely picked him up the moment I realized he was an empath because I have a type. :,)   IZETTA: Nomadic existence, bare and dirty feet, the smell of sweat and hard work, loud compassion, hope, unevenly cut hair, red and gold, cheap clothing, white costumes, early rising, warm metal, inferiority complex, total devotion and dedication. I knew I needed to write her so I could steal some of her positivity...  IZUMI: High fashion, business casual, stockings and high heels, earrings and nose rings, frost, dual-bladed naginata, the shine of metal in the dark, sold souls, sibling love, obsession with perfection, fish tanks, a home without any distinct smell, self-imposed isolation, fluorescent lighting, purples and blues. I don’t know, Izumi is one of my favorite characters from Kyoukai no Kanata, I always knew I had to pick her up.  LEONIE: Sun shining on dry ground, the feel and breath of the earth, refined chaos, green tea, large vocabularies, strange speech patterns, dry wit, sons, secrets, old books with a flower bookmark, the muddy bottom of a lake, frogs, red fingers and cheeks, old swords, dirty gold embellishments, empty and untouched rooms, freckles!!!!, spinning sword moves, honor, old armor, repeating words said just earlier, unflattering and unfashionable garments, blonde braids, running away running away running away. She’s an OC, so!! I fell in love with her on my own!! I decided to pick her up after Kristopher and I were discussing the Reed mom and I realized oh God, I have a whole idea... MIRAI: Pinks and golds, blues and blacks, vintage chic ( “grandma style”, as I lovingly call it ), red frames, serious expressions, overt politeness, depression, bandaged wrists and palms, gold rings, bloody hands, the taste of iron, burning hot blood, monster/demons, unpleasantness, distaste and disgust, starvation, empty shitty apartments, bonsai, gardening, social media and anon hate, sacrifice, orphan, self-loathing. God I just... I’d die for her okay... I... wow... I gathered the courage to pick her up after I loved her for years.  SAKURA: Toddler clothing style on a high schooler, cooking, food, sleep, oversized flannels, tired eyes and cheeks, aromantic, succinct speech, big scarves, wide stripes, lime green and red, crumbs, bandaids, bag like a mom’s purse ( full of napkins and tissues and food and keys and totally unorganized ), memories, forgiveness, sarcasm, bells, kicking, sisterhood. MMMMM I LOVE MY QUIET SLEEPY DAUGHTER!!! I picked her up because I just... vibe with her energy, I love her.  SERRA: PINKS and whites, cleanly pressed clothing, loud echoing voice, devoted and steadfast religion, bright white magic, attention-seeking, loneliness, nunneries, rosaries, The Sound of Music tbh, glitter, make-up, pigtails, tears over a chipped nail, devotion to valuing oneself, dedication to becoming the best, volatile emotions, absolute joy or unbridled anger, cherry blossom perfume, rosy red joints, stringy hair, memorization of etiquette, adventure-lust, friend-seeking. I love her so much -- she reminds me of Willow, and when I saw her on my replay of the game, I burst into tears.  URSULA: Blacks and deep purples and blues, fine wine, tight fabric, velvet skin, sharp and entrancing gaze, crows, black feathers, leather gloves, mocking simper, blood red lipstick, neutral colored fashion, lies, sharp perfume, manipulation, gold chains, the click of high heels, short dark hair, shadowy silence. I made this blog for Ursula! I knew I could play her and Kristopher wanted to write opposite of her so I threw her out here! 

11. story behind url: The original thought was that I’d be here way less frequently than my other blogs. Once every blue moon I’d check in on here. Hence, bluestmoons! 

tagged by: @myloyalty​ ( thank you my love!!! ) 

tagging: okay I know this is a copout but I spent so long doing 10,,, please,,, just steal it, I can’t look at this anymore, JKFLAJK 

[vuulpecula]

      Nights like these, when the moisture and heat of the day filled the night with thick humidity, always brought them inside to the salvation of a cold beer and airconditioning. The early evening had gone over well enough. Mostly regulars dotted the bar stools, but as eight o’clock pooled into nine the sound of engines down the roadway cut over even the most. The dogs started howling. 

      One by one they entered, shedding their leather jackets with boisterous grunts while calling for the first round. It was an eerie sight, seeing all those canines hanging off the backs of the worn chairs. Fox remained behind the bar while the others who worked there, those deemed tougher, began ferrying out the pitchers. Cleaning the inside of one of the glasses, she watched their pretty, relaxed faces with envy. Vipers ready to bite at the heels of hounds at the first sign of a threat. They received compliments with sneers, never blushed, never found their mouths lacking the right words to say to get them to stop. Unlike Fox who would bashfully nod her head and offer up a weak thank you in a voice too quiet for anyone to pick up the Slavic accent that dripped over the words. The others, her friends and fellow waitresses, nicknamed her Candy for she was too damn sweet and knew how to make everyone smile, but that wasn’t all. Fox knew how to clean a wound with vodka, extract bullets from bone, and stitch up just about every type of scratch, slash, and gash that made it into the backroom of the bar. Returning her attention to the glass, she hoped she would not have to this night. 

      The night continued on with little to no issues, only one patron seemed to be giving them a problem and the women already had a tradition to deal with his sort. ‘Go get sticky, Candy,’ they grinned at her and Fox, feeling rather devilish, aimed to delight. Assholes who didn’t tip would be forced to whether they knew it or not. Pickpocketing, another of her laundry list of skills she could not put on her resume. What she found in the pocket of the man however was not a wallet, nor a wad of cash or the thin edge of a card. No, inside his pocket she extracted a thin column of cold metal. All her blood sank into her feet, though she fixed the man with a pretty smile as she took away his empty glass to hide her real reason for getting close. Without stopping she dropped off the empty glass and grabbed up another pitcher. The others watched with worried curiosity as Fox made her way between tables, ignoring touches and jeers until she was taking a seat before the leader himself. A gruff, fearsome-looking man his men called The Hound. Firearms were prohibited within the establishment, ( too many volatile personalities all packed together ), so the silencer could only mean one thing. It was not hard to put the pieces together -- who else within the four walls was notorious enough to deserve an assassination attempt? 

      Scared fingers shaking as she set down the pitcher, sloshing beer across the table. Fox kept her eyes low, her back to the rude stranger with the gun to hide the item she placed atop the wasted beer. “Look at me, do not look at him.” She knew her straight shot across the room had not gone unnoticed and if he was any degree of paranoid, the stranger would be sweating. “I think that man is here to kill you and I do not know if he is alone.” 

@scarredhound​ ❤’d for a starter.

[thethespacecoyote]

Some brief injury fic just to get back in the groove of that sort of thing. Read on ao3 here too!

As they walked through the open hangar of the reclaimed Imperial base, heading back towards the transport waiting to carry them to the Finalizer, Kylo couldn’t help but observe the strict, measured strides of his co-commander as he led the way a couple paces ahead of him and the rest of the troopers.

The general always exuded this aura of invulnerability, but different than the kind Kylo imagined he possessed according to the average rank and file. Whereas they must’ve perceived him as too powerful, too volatile to ever be touched, injured, or killed, the reaction to Hux was always more akin to a guarded respect of some kind of inaccessible object. Immaculate to the point of inhuman, but less like a droid and more like a doll—a sneering, supercilious doll, with pale skin and hair sculpted so rigidly one could still see the teeth of the comb. It was an image Kylo had imprinted in his mind from the very moment he first met Hux, one he’d never seen waver in all the time he’d known him.

That image had shattered into pieces the moment the explosion that consumed their transport shot a wicked lance of shrapnel through the air and straight through the general’s gut.

Now Hux lies on the ground, half-braced up against a wall, shuddering with the distant impacts of blasters and bodies as the remaining contingent of troopers fan out before them to fend off the ensuing attack and cover their two commanders. Kylo knows he should probably join them, as his powers and battle expertise would surely bring the skirmish to a quick close, but instead he finds himself kneeling at the general’s side with one had braced against his shoulder and the other hovering nervously over his wound.

The shrapnel’s still stuck through Hux’s body, sunk and half melted into the wall behind him. Dark, glistening red steadily spreads through the black material of his uniform and splatters up against the shaft of the mangled metal. Hux trembles all over, his face beet red with exertion and pain, eyes manically wide and teeth gritted so tightly it’s a marvel they don’t shatter. The usual, slick-backed style of his hair has fallen completely apart from the impact and injury, ginger strands plastered against his sweaty, tense temples.

“Hold still,” Kylo says without thinking, as he carefully touches just above where the shrapnel pierces Hux’s middle. The general snorts angrily through his bloody teeth, eyes narrowing at him.

“A-Are you stupid? W-Where am I going to go, I’m pfaasking impaled to the wall!” Hux spits a bit of red down his lips, but somehow continues speaking, as if that doesn’t phase him. “On...second thought...perhaps I’ll take a jog …”

“General, don’t speak. Don’t waste your strength,” Kylo tries, though he really just wants Hux to be quiet . He’s trying to figure out how best to tend to the general’s wound, should they have to flee or otherwise travel quickly to a new rendezvous point. But Hux won’t let up. Maybe speaking, berating Kylo, helps him deal with the pain and shock of the injury.

“I’m going to try to take this out.” He taps lightly against the shrapnel. Hux’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head.

“Are you mad...? You take it out, I’ll bleed to death in this miserable p-place!” He moans, stomach heaving pointedly around the wound. Kylo sighs through his mask.

“That’s not going to happen. I’ll use the Force.”

Hux laughs hoarsely and rolls his eyes.

“Of course...the Force ...surely the Force can heal wounds and resurrect the dead, yes? And perhaps rain c-confections down upon the earth—”

“I can at least hold back the bleeding once I remove it.”

Hux blinks, looking genuinely surprised.

“You...you can?”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“T-Theoretically?” Hux’s eyes bulge as he weakly shakes his head. “No, get me a damned medic, I won’t let you experiment on me like this!”

Kylo has never run into a man who could continue to run his mouth with such vehemence while he was— uh , run through. Perhaps if the shrapnel had pierced Hux a little bit higher he’d be too busy dealing with the blood filling his lungs to berate Kylo as he tries to save his life.

“There’s no telling when a medic will arrive. Trust me, General.” Kylo knows that’s a bit of a tall order, considering their relatively hostile history. Hux seems to realize this and scowls, but his expression overall looks a little more somber. He twitches painfully, fist clenching on his thigh.

“Stars, if the last thing I see in this life is your ghastly f-face, Ren, I’m going to haunt you to the end of your miserable days…”

Kylo thinks it best to bite his tongue on the fact that Force-Nulls like Hux aren’t particularly likely to return as a ghost. That will probably only enrage him further, and he needs to focus if he’s going to withdraw the shrapnel enough for a medic to properly repair later, once it’s safe. The sounds of blasters and further explosions still sound around them, making him wonder if he’ll even have to carry Hux, on top of all of this.

“You’ll keep still then?” Kylo whispers, summoning the Force to his fingertips and watching Hux’s face. The general presses his bloodied lips tightly together, tilting his head back until his skull rests against the unsteady wall. After a moment of harsh breathing through his noses, he gives one, terse nod. As if reclaiming a bit of his lost stoicism, restoring Kylo’s belief that maybe they’d get out of this intact, that everything could go back to how it was before.

Summoning all of his focus and strength, Kylo takes the shrapnel in his invisible grasp and carefully starts to draw it out. He stops with Hux hisses through his teeth, a little thread of blood dripping over his lips, but after a moment the general nods sharply to continue. A sharp screech of metal cuts through the din around them as Kylo pulls the other end out of the wall, carefully sliding it through the meat of Hux’s body.

The general’s fist trembles on his thigh, clenched so tightly Kylo thinks the leather might rip at the seams. Somehow, Hux’s cheeks have reddened even darker than before, tendons in his neck straining above the collar of his uniform as the slick sounds of metal on ragged flesh reach both of their ears. Kylo, who has heard the dying gurgles of hundreds of slain men, enemies and allies alike, finds it unsettling, especially as he starts to pull the other end back through Hux’s body.

Sweat trickles down his forehead as he feels Hux’s blood rush in to fill the wound, inhaling sharply as he halts it with more precision in the Force than he’s ever had to muster before. It’s more strenuous than he imagined—especially considering Kylo has dragged fleeing speeders out of the air with relative ease before. His fingers tremble, those of his other hand carefully manipulating through the air as the warm, bloodstained shaft of the shrapnel starts to rise up out of the general’s body with surgical slowness. Hux keeps his eyes tightly closed, refusing to look downwards, his face erratically twitching with pain.

Kylo finds himself leaning in, the mouthpiece of his mask very nearly brushing up against Hux’s flushed cheek. It’s the closest they’ve ever been to one another, close enough that Kylo can examine the finer details in Hux’s face, even as he concentrates on keeping the general’s spilled blood at bay. His eyelids are almost translucent, threaded with little purple veins and tipped in fine, metallic eyelashes that somehow have kept their luster despite the trauma of the whole ordeal. Kylo wants to keep better track of little things like this, after he gets Hux somewhere safe.

As the shrapnel shifts through Hux’s insides it grows more difficult, the extent of the injury finally becoming morbidly clear to Kylo, but he’s determined not to let the general’s life slip through his fingers. Hux has put a shred of trust in him. He needs to do this.

Finally, the jagged end of the metal pulls out of Hux’s stomach, and as soon as it’s free Kylo forces invisible pressure upon the yawning hole, as well as throughout the wound to hold the general’s innards in place. More sweat trickles down his quivering face as he concentrates, and soon enough something warm and painful bursts in his nose to join it, trailing down over his trembling lips.

Hux whimpers at the loss of the shrapnel inside him, undoubtedly in pain from the injury, and if Kylo had the spare strength he might try to delve into the general’s mind and ease his discomfort himself, but all his focus is consumed with staving off Hux’s bleeding. More blood streams from his nose as his head pulses, unused to such delicate applications of the Force, but he endures it to keep his general living.

Gradually the conflict, both within and outside of the base, starts to ebb away, and for a moment Kylo wonders if he’s merely fading out of consciousness before fresh reinforcements, led by the implacable Captain Phasma herself, sweep through and happen upon the their blood-streaked commanders. Even with a proper medic now on hand to tend to Hux’s wounds and prepare him for transport, Kylo keeps his focus even as he trembles on his feet and blackness eats at the corners of his vision. He manages to make it on the rescue vessel, keeping to Hux’s side until they reach the small medical quarters, at which point he finally lets go and—with the sudden release of pressure—loses consciousness, nearly slamming his helmet against the edge of Hux’s gurney as he collapses to the ground.

The hum of engines briefly wakes Kylo from his daze.

His head throbs, and the white lights above hurt his eyes and forces him to turn to the side. He realizes distantly that someone has taken off his helmet, and feels a twitch of anger and shame at that fact, but he’s far too weary to exact retribution at the moment.

When Kylo flutters his eyes open again, away from the intruding light, they fall upon a second bed right beside his, upon which the body of General Hux rests. His heart leaps briefly into his throat, before falling in relief as soon as he notices the steady movement of Hux’s chest. His middle is swathed in heavy medical dressing, leaving Kylo to wonder how long he’d been out, and if they’d had to immerse Hux in any bacta before lying them beside one another.

But exhaustion creeps around him, chasing away his brief wisp of conscious thought. For now, Kylo lets it retake him, and falls back asleep.

He’ll have to preserve his strength for when Hux wakes, after all. The general will certainly have some very choice words for him then.

[the-iron-hound]

The new weapons of the world.

The heat of the forge was sweltering in that stone enclosed hut. How Dwarves saw fit to keep closed roof forges baffled the Gilnean smith. Hot or not, he worked through the discomfort. The opening that had been set was ground down to be flush with the rest of the blade-to-be he had big plans for this weapon, provided that it would work that is.

He pulled himself away from the hammer and anvil for a moment, the tang end of the blade was in the hot coals. Opening a small wooden cabinet, there was a small golden, blue, and white glowing sliver of metal. At least he thought it was metal, this sliver seemed to react similarly to metal. Returning to the forge Dylan put the piece down in with the sword as well.

It was small so Dylan thought he could pull the shard and weapon out at the same time, but unfortunately, the shard hadn’t reacted even a little to his attempts to heat it to malleability. He had decided to let the blade return to its forged black appearance, and now he went behind to some of the air controls, and turned them up higher, the fires in the forge starting to roar and heat even more.

The forge house felt like an oven as the flames rose in the forge. Carefully held in the tongs, Dylan eased the shard into the flame, waiting about a moment before he put the steel into it, he made sure to be extra careful, as the extra heat could burn the steel, or outright melt it if he wasn’t careful. Using his tongs Dylan removed the shard and the blade at the same time.

The extra heat had done it, the shard had looked to be ready to be hammered, its color and glow had stayed, but the patterns that shifted had become much more active, and the glow was much more substantial. Dylan placed the heated portion of the sword on the anvil, and the shard in the forged opening.

Nervous, sweating a little more profusely, unsure that if he hammered it, would it explode? This was the blood of a titan, could it be volatile? Toxic? Would it just not budge regardless of force? It was something he needed to try for himself.

Bringing the hammer down on the shard, the anvil rang out with a loud ping, no boom, no hiss of toxic gas, it seemed there was nothing too dangerous at all from this process. Lucky him that he didn’t accidentally destroy the forge house, and himself for that matter, in this little test. He continued to hammer it down until the shard was formed to be snug with the opening made in the blade.

Perhaps forge welding the parts to one another? Would that work? Could these two metals even successfully bond? Dylan applied the flux to the exterior of the guard area of the blade, and returned it to the flames. Dylan removed it, and hammered them into one another on the forge rather forcefully this time, and then allowed it to cool slightly.

“Two more runs. That should do it.” He said, working through the processes two more times. He’d done it, the once rough shard had been bonded to the steel part, the forge weld almost looked like there were veins of this metal coursing power through the steel. Only a few more steps and it should be ready for tempering.

After normalizing the blade he heated the weapon one last time to a soft orange glow, and dunked the blade in warm oil. The moment of truth was soon upon him. He tested the steel for the flex and retention, it seems he’d tempered the weapon correctly. He gave it a rather severe flex, and it returned to its straight intention. 

Back to the grindstone, literally, he was using the fine grained wheel to grind away all of the coal and oil residue, the sword being brought up to a shining steel, with those gold, blue, and white glowing veins coursing from the shard, the heart of the weapon, so to speak, anyone could see that this weapon was powerful magically, what its true effects were would be unknown until it’s used.

The final touches were done, the crossguard was hammered on tight, the handle was burnt on to be snug, and the peened pommel was added. Finally a clean and fresh black leather grip was added around the grip, and was wrapped tightly so that the adhesive could set properly. Once the string was removed and the blade sharpened, the blade could be declared complete. A matching black scabbard was added to the weapon, and one final touch came on. A small leather lanyard with the brooch that Misery had made was attached to the end of the scabbard. He had figured that was as good as any place as any to place it, as on his apron, it would dirty too easily, on his clothes or armor was too flashy for him, but on such a beautiful work of art that this weapon had become, that was a perfect spot for him to put such an equal work of art.

Looking at the blade, Dylan almost finally understood why some people name their weapons. Never having made such a masterpiece in his career, he decided that just as a painting would, the weapon must have a title. “The Wolf’s Heart.” He uttered, putting the weapon into the scabbard. Dylan worked to close up and extinguish the forge, his work being done for the night.

(@iron-blood for the quick mention)

[stxrkillcr-blog]

RULES !!  Post a song that reminds you of your muse and then tag 6 people whose songs you want to see!

tagged by: @stillsolo

i come with knives - iamx

I always feel like this song was playing when he first became General, this is just such a fitting song for his rise to power. Every time I hear it I picture him making the speech before using Starkiller Base for the first time.

It was kinda hard to pick between this, Don’t Mess With Me by Temposhark or Volatile Times also by IAMX.

Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele

The paradox or our minds Too much to believe, too much to deny You fool me again to quiet my pride But I’m a human, I come with knives

I never promised you an open heart or charity I never wanted to abuse your imagination

I come with knives I come with knives And agony To love you

Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele In der mitternacht.

The monotony And the rising tide Is under my skin, is crawling inside Adrenaline to rewire my mind I'm only human, I come with knives

I never promised you an open heart or charity I never wanted to abuse your imagination

I come with knives I come with knives And agony I come with knives I come with knives To love you And agony To love you With agony

I come with knives With agony To love you

Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele In der mitternacht [x2]

In der mitternacht [x2]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

[ COLORS ]  red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. grey green.

[ ELEMENTS ]   fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars (mental; physical). scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing.tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ]    fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. whips. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pistol. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. words. bat.

[ MATERIALS ]   gold. silver. platinum. brass. copper. lead. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ]    grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. river. meadow. lake. forest. desert. tundra .savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ]   lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. mice. lizards. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]  sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. bread. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. condensed milk. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. rice. ambrosia. soup. stew. whiskey.

[ HOBBIES ]    music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. meditation. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. percussion. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. mahjong. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ]    lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet.rings. pendant. hat. ballcap. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. robes. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ]    balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. grief. happiness. optimism. realism. pessimism. legacy. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

TAGGED BY : @stillsolo

you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. put your mp3 player, itunes,spotify, etc. on shuffle & list the first 10 songs & then tag 10 people, no skipping !

REPOST & DON’T REBLOG !

1. Let’s Dance - David Bowie 2. Old Money - Lana Del Rey 3. Goner - Twentyone Pilots 4. Whatsername - Green Day 5. Six Shooter - Queens of the Stone Age 6. Flaws - Bastille 7. Goodnite, Dr. Death - My Chemical Romance 8. Chicken On A Stick - Justin Hurwitz 9. Private Fears In Public Places - Front Porch Step 10. Buddy Holly - Weezer

TAGGED BY: @stillsolo

CHARACTER STRENGTHS.

RULES:    bold  the  characteristics  that  apply  to  your  muse !    Tag  your  friends !

Tagged by: @stillsolo

adaptable |  adventurous  |  affectionate |  ambitious  |  artistic  |  athletic  |  assertive  |  beautiful  | brave |  charming  |  clever  | compassionate |  confident  | considerate |  cooperative  |  courteous  |  creative  | curious  |  decisive  |  dependable  |  determined  |  diplomatic |  easy - going  | enthusiastic |  fair  |  fashionable  | forgiving  |  friendly  |  fun - loving  |  funny |  generous  |  gentle  | hard - working |  heroic |  honest  |  hopeful  |  humble  |  imaginative  |  incorruptible |  intelligent  |  intuitive  |  inventive  |  jocular  |  leader  | lively  |  loving  |  loyal  |  merciful  |  musical  |  observant  |  open - minded |  optimistic  |  organized  | outgoing  | passionate  |  patient  |  playful  |  polite  | popular  |  practical  |  resourceful  |  self - assured | selfless  |  sensible  |  sincere  |  strong  |  studious  |  thoughtful  |  tough  | versatile |  warm - hearted  | well - intentioned |  wise  |  witty

CHARACTER FLAWS. RULES:    bold  the  characteristics  that  apply  to  your  muse !   Tag  your  friends ! 

Tagged by: @stillsolo

absent-minded  |  abusive  |  addict  |  aggressive  |  aimless  |  alcoholic  |  anxious  |  arrogant  | audacious  |  bad liar |  bigmouth  |  bigot  | blindly obedient  |  blunt  |  callous  |  childish  | chronic heroism |  clingy |  clumsy  |  cocky  |  competitive  |  corrupt  |  cowardly  |  cruel  | cynical  |  delinquent  |  delusional  |  dependent  |  depressed  |  deranged  |  disloyal  |  ditzy  | egotistical | envious  |  erratic  |  fickle  | finicky |  flaky  |  frail  | fraudulent  |  guilt complex | gloomy  |  gluttonous  |  gossiper  |  gruff  |  gullible  |  hedonistic  |  humorless  |  hypochondriac | hypocritical |  idealist  |  idiotic  |  ignorant  |  immature  | impatient |  incompetent  |indecisive | insecure | insensitive  |  lazy  |  lewd  |  liar  |  lustful  |  manipulative  |  masochistic | meddlesome  |  melodramatic  |  money-loving |  moody |  naive  |  nervous |  nosy  |  ornery  | overprotective  |  overly sensitive  | paranoid  | passive-aggressive | perfectionist  | pessimist |  petty  |  power-hungry  |  proud  |  pushover  | reckless  |  reclusive  | remorseless  | rigorous  | sadistic  |  sarcastic  |  senile  |selfish  | self-martyr |  shallow  |  sociopathic |  sore loser  | spineless  |  spiteful  |  spoiled  | stubborn |  tactless  |  temperamental |  timid  |  tone-deaf  | traitorous  |  unathletic  |  ungracious  |  unlucky  |  unsophisticated  |  untrustworthy  | vain | withdrawn | workaholic

Repost! Don’t Reblog! Last Movie I Watched: – Moana Last Song I Listened To: Breezeblocks - alt-J Last book I read: – In Fury Born - David Weber Last Thing I Ate: French Fries If You Could Be Anywhere Right Now:  Right where I am, relaxed in bed. Fictional Character You Would Hang Out With For A Day:  Only one? Wade Wilson, he’s a riot I’d have so much fun even if I’d probably get dragged into a shit ton of trouble. Tagged by: @stillsolo

Pick any of them and tag me! I love reading about your muses. tagging: @legatumiism @whatyoustartcd @kyloren-sithlord @serratedlight @smugglingscavanger @theslavewhoranaway @thedestrcyer @night-vale-jace @nightvalecoroner @iblamethatguy and anyone who wants to do it

[volatile95]

Our @marshalllir original characters Alex (Lesha) and Bernard Reed (Björn)

Here is post on my wife’s telegram channel - our thoughts about another first time meeting of them in modern!AU