#winged shifter au

[kindlingkeen]

KEEEEEEN!!! 📢 (been a while, hello!)

I’ve been thinking about wing aus, and I love seeing how everyone gives different wings to characters (I’ve seen vulture, hawk, robin, angel. etc for Jason) and I was wondering which bird (or other animal/creature) wings you’d give to each batfam member? (Or anyone else you’ve got ideas for) 👀

Hey friend, it has been a while!!! 💙

Okay, so I’ve been thinking about this one for a bit. Initially I read your question wrong and was thinking winged creature (as in shifter), not just the wings themselves. So ultimately you’re going to get two sets of answers. First, the winged creatures.

Jason: A Golden Eagle. They’re huge, known for the aerial agility and hunting prowess, and their calls strike fear into the hearts of small mammals everywhere. Sometimes I toy with the idea of Jason coming out of the pit with a white head (like a bald eagle), making him appropriately unique. 🦅

Bruce: A Great Horned Owl. Huge, nocturnal, utterly silent flight, an ambush predator that swoops down from above onto their prey, absolutely wicked talons. 🦉

Dick: A Macaw, with red, green and yellow feathers obs. Beautiful, strong and agile flyers that soar and glide. They are incredibly social and intelligent. 🦜

Talia and Damian: Peregrine Falcons, on the smaller side for birds of prey, but incredibly fast and agile, able to snatch their prey out of mid air. More solitary and tend to nest in extreme habitats.

Tim: A Green Heron. I have no real justification for this other than that I’m on a lake vacation right now, and there’s a juvenile green heron that’s been visiting the shoreline by the beach I’m on. The other night I watched it clumsily land on a dock and then promptly fall off into the water, only to haul itself out and back onto the dock to sit there looking around like, ‘nobody saw that right???’ and I was like, Tim. My other thought for Tim is a Crow. Smart, resource scavengers. They’ll be nice to you if you’re nice to them, and they have long memories.

Cass: honestly, I don’t actually see her as a winged creature. It’s a toss-up between a cobra and a panther for me.

Okay, that’s my list! I’d love to hear others’ ideas!! Thanks for the prompt, friend, this was fun to think about! 🥰

[bluegiragi]

cockatrice (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 ONe Shot: "On Wings of Storm"

This canon divergent AU was intended to be a shifter one shot, but I don't know that the character is a shifter in the strictest sense, as there is a curse and magic involved. It is set sometime post Milah's death in Season Two, and then embarks on a different path from there...

I apologize ahead of time for any errors that I might need to come back and fix; I was writing this right up to midnight and didn't have enough time to edit fully. My beta for this year's @cssns @myfearless-love did absolutely brilliant work, catching so many typos and run-ons and confusing phrases. She was invaluable and deserves so much love for all her help! Anything left over is 100% my fault for hurrying to finish.

**I am thrilled to be reposting now with the gorgeous cover artwork created for me by @motherkatereloyshipper! She captured so well the drama and intensity of the ship's danger during the storm and the petrel coming to her aid. I just love it!! Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH @motherkatereloyshipper!**

Please enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think!!

Summary: Killian Jones has lost everything and everyone he ever held dear. All that is left for him is vengeance and pain. None could have expected the strange twist of Fate that would change everything, or the surprising companion that will come to touch his heart in ways he would have no longer thought possible.

“On Wings of Storm” 

By: @snowbellewells

“Attention, you bilge rats!” His angry voice rang out unmistakably over the planks of the majestic ship - carrying clearly despite the buffeting wind and rolling sea beneath. The power in the sharply accented words cracked like a whip, causing every member of his crew to flinch nervously and stand at attention to do their captain’s bidding and avoid his ire. Those who made their home and livelihood upon the Jolly Roger - even the few remaining grizzled veterans who’d once served on her decks when she was the Jewel of the Realm - knew her captain’s temper was perpetually on a knife’s edge. The harshness and cruelty of the lives they all lived, and the loss and betrayal Captain Jones had weathered, would bow and break many. It was understood not to cross those who had survived and been hardened by it.

Yet, even with that knowledge, the cause of his current tirade was unclear. When the ship had docked at the remote port, some had stayed aboard to handle various duties and keep watch while others went ashore to roam and shop, or to visit inns or brothels, but all had been attending to their assigned duties and nothing was amiss. However, the thunderous look upon their Captain’s dark brow spoke volumes. Something was amiss, and he would see it put to rights. Pity the fool who was found at fault. The cutlass at his hip bounced gently against his leg, and the still awe-inspiring metal appendage which had replaced his left hand mere months ago glinted menacingly in the low moonlight as he paced back and forth, eyeing each man with an intensity that would make anyone tremble.

It was old Mullins who finally dared to put the question to the Captain gingerly when no further explanation or action seemed forthcoming. “What is it that’s angered ye, Cap’n?” he queried respectfully, head bowed in deference as his speech drew Killian Jones’ attention. “We’ve been here aboard the Jolly and at our post since ye left. Did something happen on shore?”

Killian’s attention zeroed intently on the graying Mullins, who quickly gave another bob of his chin in respect or acknowledgement. Not about to contradict their captain, but also not knowing what had upset him, none of them could move to make it right. Those piercing blue eyes, like ice chips in Mullins’ shuddering imagination, beneath the dark, forbidding brows he used to great effect, seemed to be searching his subordinate’s face and sifting his words for any hint of dissension or deception. Finding nothing of the kind, the volatile man’s gaze swept over the rest of the crew assembled around him nervously for some time before offering the explanation in a menacing growl.

“It has come to my attention - and make no mistake, even a scoundrel such as meself has loyal allies - that some of you are dissatisfied with your position aboard this vessel. Let me be crystal clear; a place aboard the Jolly Roger is an honor and a prize - she is a marvel unmatched in speed and quality throughout the realm. However, your presence here is entirely voluntary. I have never, and will never, tolerate the enslavement of any crew member on the Jolly. Such dishonor shall not taint her decks. So, if any of you wish to depart, then by all means, leave now. But be warned; spreading false tales of captivity or coercion, thereby sullying our flag and reputation, will not be tolerated. Such lies will be rooted out and those responsible will face severe consequences.”

He paused, clearly waiting for any who might be bold enough to disembark under his watchful eye and be noted for their decision. None upon the deck moved or spoke, and old Mullins noted sadly that the only sound or hint of motion was the heavy breathing that escaped the Captain’s mouth and the heaving of his chest, evidenced by what had clearly been an angry charge from the town’s center and his impassioned outburst.

As Jones finally seemed to regain control, sending him back to work with a brisk order, Mullins couldn’t help thinking resignedly about how much the Captain had changed, in the past few months especially, but also in the years since his brother’s death. The man Captain Jones had once been - that promising but naive young lieutenant - seemed like a distant memory. Few of the current crew members had served under Jones’ proud and honorable older brother, Liam, who had been tragically struck down in his prime by treachery. Liam’s untimely death had altered the course of all their lives in ways none could have anticipated. Mullins found it painful to remember the wide-eyed, gangly lieutenant Killian had once been. That young man had spoken passionately of glory for the crown and the name of Jones, ready to follow his Captain anywhere. He had believed in righteousness and the power of individuals to shape their own destinies. That idealistic youth had hardened into a bitter and implacable man. The once-noble Killian Jones now sought only vengeance, becoming known and feared across the seas as the dreaded villain, Captain Hook. Mullins sighed and returned to his task; there was naught to be done for it.

Meanwhile, Killian Jones stood at the helm, staring out into the dark night. He sought fruitlessly for the rhythmic comfort of the waves against the hull of his beloved vessel, the solid planks beneath his feet, and the cool night air brushing over his face to ease his inner turmoil. These familiar elements had soothed him many times before, yet his agitation remained as he waited, forcing himself to take steady, regular breaths.

As he stood there, alone amongst his crew, Killian’s gaze drifted towards the gray, evening-darkening horizon. A shape materialized from the gathering twilight, drawing nearer - an unmistakable bird on the wing, yet not the familiar silhouette of gull or pelican often seen at sea. Morbidly curious, Killian watched as the creature approached, strangely silent compared to the trilling calls of most avian species he knew. Its relatively small body rose and fell on the air currents, rather than gliding with ease, weaving unsteadily in its course.

Despite having recently displayed harsh temper and callousness, Killian found himself holding his breath with each flap of wings that sent the bird painstakingly higher in the sky again, inexplicably concerned it might plummet into the rolling waves below.

As if drawn by his thoughts, the bird’s flight began to descend lower and lower. The men diligently working around him on the deck - and avoiding eye contact to steer clear of his ire a second time - seemed completely unaware of the creature’s plight. Killian finally released a tight breath as the dark-feathered bundle nearly landed at his feet. Though it seemed more a collapse than a graceful landing, it had found a resting place. He did not wish to closely examine why it mattered to him whether it had succeeded or not.

Glancing around surreptitiously, Killian stooped to gather the bird into his hand, his hooked arm wrapping around to steady and secure it against his chest. He hoped the dark attire he wore would partially conceal the fragile creature. Rescuing helpless animals contradicted the brash and dangerous pirate persona he had donned irrevocably, which had grown even more dark and forbidding of late. Yet, he simply could not leave the small, fragile bird on the planks, its strength almost spent and plaintively vulnerable.

Seeing that all was as it should be, he slipped below deck without a word, carrying the strange passenger in his arms into his cabin. Closing the door firmly behind him, Killian hurried to place the weakened creature on the table and lit a nearby lantern hanging from the ceiling to inspect its small form for injuries. It appeared fine, simply near the end of its endurance after a clearly long journey.

Just as when the bird was approaching the ship, he could not really understand why it mattered so much to him that the creature was alright. It did though, and so he obeyed his instincts and tried to tend to it as best he knew how. His new compatriot didn’t seem at all troubled by his admittedly anxious dithering and attempts at aid. The bird neither flapped nor made any attempt to flee. After a few full-body shakes to settle its plumage, the bird remained largely still, only moving with its breaths and blinking its dark brown eyes calmly at him, seemingly taking in its new surroundings. The creature exhibited an almost human awareness that it was safe, facing no threat from him.

As Killian watched, enthralled, the bird eventually seemed to settle enough that it tucked its head beneath its wing and appeared to fall asleep. Satisfied that his charge would be fine for a few hours, and needing to rest himself while his crew and ship were in order, Killian extinguished the lantern after preparing for bed. The churning anger and restlessness which had plagued him since boarding his ship was strangely lulled, and for the moment, he was too grateful to question it. Stretching out upon the Captain’s berth, he gave himself over to sleep, for once wrapped up enough in its comfort to be dreamless.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Killian rose with the sun the next morning, habit waking him early enough to see the gray pre-dawn melt into the peach and pinkish glow of a clear new day. He stretched his lanky frame, washed and dressed before moving to the table to check on his unexpected guest. As he neared the makeshift nest he had created, he was surprised to see his small stowaway still appeared to be asleep. Startled by how calm the bird continued to be in such confined surroundings, Killian merely smiled tightly, his hand unconsciously rubbing his chest. He tried not to dwell on why the peaceful sight of a bird resting on the table in one of his old rags lifted his spirits so, as if the whole cabin felt less lonely in its presence.

He had a litany of his usual tasks to attend to, and he knew the rest of his crew would soon be active - if they were not already. Killian exited the cabin swiftly, hoping nothing would disturb the creature until it was restored enough to wake on its own, once the heavy sound of his boots against the wooden planks faded away.

However, he couldn’t avoid one quick stop before heading topside. Killian was pleased to see Turley, the ship’s cook, alone in the kitchen. He ducked beneath the low door frame and cleared his throat to get the grizzled man’s attention amidst the numerous pots and pans bubbling and sizzling on the stovetop.

“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Turley offered, with a gap-toothed smile. “What can I get ye?”

Killian lowered his voice, stepping closer to the aging cook as he explained that the rations he sought were not for himself, but for the seabird he had rescued the evening before. As he pondered why the bird’s fate concerned him, Killian found himself unsure why he felt compelled to hide his anxiety for the small animal. Anyone daring to question or mock him would regret it – if not immediately, soon enough. Was he questioning himself then?

He discarded the thought almost as soon as it entered his mind. Turley seemed pleased with his captain’s request, assuring him they still had some canned herring in their stores which he could fetch after the noon meal. Killian nodded approvingly and thanked Turley before turning to leave. Just as he did, Turley added, “Sounds like you found a storm petrel, Cap’n.”

“Oh, aye?” Killian asked, tilting his head with renewed interest, despite his desire not to seem overeager.

“Indeed, for how you have described it anyways, Sir. They’re quite rare in these parts, or so’s I’ve always heard. They tend to nest much further north, preferrin’ the cold.”

Killian nodded his understanding but remained silent, encouraging Turley’s talkative nature with a patient gaze. He was rewarded when Turley continued without pause.

“There’re many folks who consider ‘em an evil omen, Cap’n. Portents of storms and such like, but they’re such wee buggers, them petrels. I always wondered meself if they weren’t just allowin’ the winds to blow them to safety rather than heraldin’ the blast.”

Killian shook his head with begrudging humor. Even after nearly three years leading a crew of pirates rather than the formal naval sailors they had once been, he was continually surprised by their superstitious beliefs. They claim to be black-hearted, fearless outlaws, yet frightfully unwilling to take a woman aboard (even Milah at the beginning), sail under the red morning sun, or set out on a Friday.. All due to tall tales of downfall and destruction. It was just a bird, wind-rattled and knocked off-course, needing to regain its strength; certainly not some ill stroke of luck.

“I heartily agree with you, mate,” Killian said when Turley’s words trailed off, giving him a clap on the shoulder before leaving the galley. “I appreciate you finding the herring. I’ll be back for it once lunch has been cleared.”

Turley assented readily and turned back to his task, humming idly. The Captain seemed in a better state of mind than he’d been in since losing his hand, and witnessing his love’s death. To Turley it seemed nothing but good luck, and he was simply glad for it.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Feeding the petrel at noon was a more awkward and messier business than Killian had anticipated; first he was struggling to open the sealed tin with just one hand, then handling the pungent small fish and their juices in his attempts to coax the bird to eat. Once it snatched the first bit in its delicate, curved bill, however, no more coddling was necessary. Soon, the petrel was grasping tiny herring right from the can, swallowing chunks as fast as it could manage. It emitted a rough sort of squawk in his direction once it finished its meal. Chuckling, Killian could certainly admit it was no nightingale’s song, but he chose to see it as an enthusiastic thanks all the same.

“I’m afraid that’s all for now, you shameless beggar,” he chided gently while clearing the empty tin away and wiping the table clean. To his surprise, the bird stepped nearer, lightly pecking at his fingers, almost playfully or in gratitude, not at all sharply enough to hurt. Holding his breath, Killian turned his hand open and palm up; the petrel nuzzled against his warm skin. Improbable as it seemed, the gesture could almost be called affectionate.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” the pirate murmured, scratching one finger lightly over the bird’s dark gray cap. He chose to ignore how his voice sounded equally fond.

When he returned that evening, the shadows outside his cabin’s windows were already long, and the sun had long sunk in the west. After its performance at midday, Killian was sure the petrel would be hungry again and eagerly awaiting its dinner. Yet, upon entering his cabin with canned anchovies, hoping they would not prove too salty for his animal guest, he found the bird absent from the center table altogether. Instead, it flitted for one spot to another at the desk in the room’s far corner near the window. It fluttered, then paused to alight upon the various open books strewn over the surface, cooking its tiny head and peering down intently at the pages. Had Killian not known better, he would have thought it was actually reading the words in Liam’s beloved tomes.

By this point, Kilian was charmed by the petrel’s odd antics, his lips stretching into an ill-accustomed smile as he watched before he moved to lay out his offering. The dark cloud that had hung over him before the bird’s arrival had dissipated. Though he couldn’t explain why, Killian welcomed the lighter mood, hoping it signified better days to come.

The petrel let out its brash trill a few more times before fluttering over to feed quickly on the anchovy, as enthusiastically as it had eaten the herring. Upon finishing, however, it did not relax as it had done previously. Instead, it flitted across the room, hovering near the window and making its distinctive call. The bird then fluttered around Killian’s head and shoulders before returning to the window, its desire for freedom as clear as if it had spoken the words aloud.

“Of course, little one,” Killian sighed reluctantly, no longer embarrassed about speaking to it as if it were human. “Naturally you would wish to return to the air.”

As he opened the window pane, the bird uttered a softer note, unlike its previous raucous cries. Killian smiled ruefully as he watched it slip through the opening and fly away. He had never considered refusing to let it go free; still, he missed the petrel’s presence in his cabin almost immediately. It might have been only a lost bird, but for a flicker of time, he felt a connection, a kinship, that had been sorely lacking in his life.

Yet, to Killian’s pleased astonishment, it was far from the last he would see of the storm petrel. While he would have expected the bird to be gone, never to return again, as days and weeks at sea went by, the small bird reappeared often - usually at first light, near the wheel where Killian was often steering, taking the night’s last watch upon himself as captain to be certain all was well when the Jolly was perhaps most vulnerable. After his intriguing initial encounter with his new feathered friend, he had learned that petrels were largely nocturnal and - like pirates and sailors themselves - rarely came ashore unless nesting. Again, that strange sense of kindred closeness swept over him; more than he had known for entirely too long. He had also learned that pairs of storm petrels were largely monogamous, and he could not help but wonder if the small gray co-pilot had lost its mate, leading it to return to the ship and humans where it had been shown kindness, strange as the attachment might seem. At any rate, once “his” petrel had begun to make recurrent appearances, Killian deliberately took the shift which found him at the helm when dawn’s first light crept over the horizon.

Though wise enough not to voice any notice or question him, the more observant and early-rising members of Captain Jones’ crew began to notice the bird’s repeated arrivals at the wheel near their captain. It seemed the small creature came solely to visit Jones and to snag a brief ride perched on the ship’s side, the sea breeze rustling its feathers until it either fluttered below deck to follow Killian at the end of his watch or took to the sky again.. Killian naturally sought to avoid seeming overly fond or doting on the petrel. For the leader of a band of miscreants and outlaws who lived a rough life by their wits and the sweat of their brows, it was dangerous indeed to show any sort of weakness. Any appearance of “going soft” could be a death sentence if his crew began to doubt his capabilities because of it.

All the same, those who worked nearby sometimes saw glimpses of his twinkling eyes or more mischievous smiles from time to time - things that had seemed lost to the past before the bird’s arrival. The cabin boy Killian had taken aboard at a port several months before - to save him from a life of abuse and privation - sometimes thought he heard snatches of the Captain singing or humming shanties under his breath when the petrel was present at Killian’s side. The boy’s loyalty, however, was unassailable and absolute. He’d never dream of breathing a word.

This continued for some time, the petrel’s comings and goings becoming an expected part of the rhythm aboard the Jolly Roger. Its diminutive gray form and rapid flight over the nearby waves became an easily recognizable sight to all who sailed upon the ship. What was more, the bird’s presence was gratefully welcomed - Captain Jones was less volatile and less prone to strike out against those who displeased him.

If the petrel had not yet proven its worth to any sailors reluctant to accept it, then one stormy night it would have silenced any doubts once and for all…

They had not taken an enemy vessel in some time, and the cargo taken in their most recent haul had been offloaded at the last port nearly two days prior. It was a good thing, too, because as shadows began to lengthen in late afternoon, wind whipped up wildly, frothing the waves and rocking the ship violently. The extra weight of a full cargo might have caused them to take on a frightening amount of water as the hull rose and fell. 

At first, the men manned their posts with calm determination. A storm at sea was always serious, easily spelling the difference between life and death in how one met its ravages. They had faced many such squalls, and Jones guided them through with an indefinable but comforting mix of experience and assurance. This gale, however, seemed different, bent on their destruction as the walls of water rose and then dropped the Jolly as though it were a toy in a child’s bathtub. As they dipped, the rising swells threatened to pour over the sides and sink them permanently. The crew gripped their ropes or boards, holding tightly to whatever piece they manned, but more and more fervently sending prayers for mercy to Poseidon, Davy Jones, or the sirens that would greet them below the surface.

Amidst the rolling chaos, the rapid beating of wings swept low over their heads as a dark,  familiarly recognizable form sailed across the deck and landed heavily, talons clinging to the worn leather on Killian’s shoulder. Though it had clearly fought mightily against the drafts, their petrel was claiming its place heedless of the danger.

Hardly able to acknowledge the delicate weight where it roosted at his side, even nearer than usual, Killian quickly raised his hook from the spokes of the wheel, brushing its curve over the bird’s downy underbelly in a single stroke of greeting. The bird trilled and seemed almost to rub its head against his rough cheek in affection. The exchange lasted only a moment, and in their heightened anxiety, few, if any, bore witness. Then, Killian gripped the wheel tightly once more with hand and hook, roaring out orders and encouragement, exhorting the men not to give up the fight, though the storm raged on and endurance flagged.

The petrel, not content to merely watch and ride along, was hardly finished - nor did it perch silently idle. Instead, it took to the air again, if only just, fluttering rapidly about the captain’s head, repeating its sharp, strident call, almost in his ear, and making itself nigh impossible to ignore. At first, Killian instinctively waved his hand to ward off its advances, calling out in consternation at its unusual behavior. However, it quickly became clear the tiny bird’s determined efforts would not falter.

Brow furrowed in thought, Killian squinted in concentration at his companion, finally sensing that it was trying to tell him something. Swiping the driving rain from his vision, Killian gave in and murmured low under his breath, “Alright, little one, I understand. What is it you wish to show me?”

Again, reacting as if it understood his every word, the petrel chirruped a sort of agreement and took flight again. It had to dip and bob against the lashing wind and rain in order to stay aloft, but it flapped madly, its wings battling back against the heaves of the storm. Valiantly, it hovered within sight, just ahead of the ship’s bow and almost seemed to look back expectantly, as if asking whether or not he meant to follow its lead.

Despite the tension in his shoulders, the worry and responsibility weighing upon him as the storm attempting to break them apart and bear the pieces to the depths, Killian couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter at the bird’s assumed insistence. “Aye, we’re with you,” he uttered aloud, turning the wheel just slightly to accommodate the direction in which the petrel led, shaking his head in disbelief even as he did so. It seemed a mite crazy, true enough, and yet birds survived the wild, its brutal conditions and weather, all the time. And what other chance of survival did they have at this point if the tempest didn’t slake soon? He could not see the way before them clearly enough to navigate by any of his normal methods. At the end of the day, they were all at the whim of Mother Nature, whatever their skill or experience, so the chance or fate that had brought this small creature to him and the feeling in his gut that urged him on seemed as good a course to follow as any.

Some few further agonizing minutes followed, as they still rose and fell in the grip of rolling waves. The entire crew seemed to hold their breath as the ship bobbed and soared, up and down, over and again, eyes riveted on the dark clouds and forks of lightning ahead of them and straining to glimpse in time the jagged rocks that lurked portending their doom.

Slowly, and yet more and more certainly as they persisted, the wild rocking, the careening to and fro, lessened, as though the churning water itself had begun to loosen its massive grip. They were moving into miraculously calmer waters, Killian noted with a breath of relief. The storm still howled around them, but in a bright flash of lightning, he saw that the ship had entered the sheltered lea of a hidden cove. The tall rock faces rising on either side as the Jolly sailed into their cover lessened the buffeting of the waves and allowed the ship to maintain its ballance once again. He would not have seen the entrance with the elements obscuring vision as they’d been - not without the petrel. It had led them to safety.

As if on cue, the bird came to rest atop the wheel, perching on the curve of wood between the two spokes where his hand and hook were placed. Blinking placidly, it seemed to look at him with a bit of pride before cooing softly and burrowing hits head and beak under its wing to snatch a moment’s well-earned rest.

Nodding and allowing himself a look around to take stock, Killian saw the reassurance on his crew’s faces as all realized they had made it through. Killian called out a few orders to check various parts of the sip for any damages and make certain the ship would stay in place until the storm blew itself out. This petrel with its almost sentient ability to sense when it was needed, come to his aid, and raise his spirits, would always have a safe place to rest with them on the Jolly Roger.

~~*~~*~~

Until the day it didn’t return.

The storm petrel had taken to arriving regularly every two or three days, wherever they might be sailing or how much distance they had covered, but then one evening it failed to appear. It didn’t come that night, or the next. Soon a week had passed, and still it didn’t come back to the Jolly, worrying Killian more than he dared let on.

He could not simply drop anchor and wait, nor could he leave his post, his men, and his ship, to search for his tiny companion - far dearer than even a pet could ever be. He had no way to call the bird; it had always come to him of its own accord and in its own time… but it had never stayed away for so long.

His men noticed as well, whispering amongst themselves when the Captain began taking his evening meals alone at night rather than joining them in the galley, when the door to his cabin slammed with such heavy finality that all knew it was a barrier not to be crossed until the Captain emerged again. They shook their heads in dismay when orders were bellowed more harshly or conversations were more clipped and terse. Killian Jones was too diligent a man to shirk his duties or lead them astray, yet all felt his unease and knew its cause. Many of them were aware enough to know the petrel had saved them from the storm, just as Killian did, and had grown to enjoy its visits and watch for it in their own ways. Its absence had stretched on long enough that it seemed clear something must have happened to the poor bird - not that any would say such to the Captain.

Turley and the cabin boy were the only ones genuinely close enough to ask Killian about it, and the youngster only dared question hesitantly one night as he brought the Captain his dinner tray if he had seen his gray bird lately. The dulled acceptance in his expected denial bowed the boy’s head and forestalled any further inquiry.

But that night, as young Billy left, Killian heard a light rapping sound at the small window above his bunk. Even knowing better, his heart leapt with a small flicker of hope. It was the portal by which his petrel had entered and left his cabin so many times. Scuffling and scratching followed, so weak and soft as to have gone unheard if he hadn’t been sitting alone and quiet at his desk. Hustling to the window, Killian unlatched it and carefully opened the glass pane.

To his astonishment and joy, quickly followed by rapid alarm, the storm petrel toppled from its weary perch on the windowsill and landed on the ledge just inside the room. Its tiny frail quivered, its little feathered breast rising and falling rapidly. It wasn’t a large bird to begin with; Turley’s familiar voice echoed in Killian’s head at the thought, needlessly rambling about petrels being some of the widest ranging seabirds known to man, despite being naught bigger than swallows. ‘Hardy little critters, they are,’ Killian could still hear the cook yammering internally until he finally shook his head clear. What he needed to do now was ascertain what the bird needed and what he could do to help.

Having been small already, the petrel looked terribly frail on the dusty, cushioned ledge amidst heavy tomes, navigation tools, and the other detritus of several years. It was obvious the poor creature had not been eating and was wasting away half-starved as a result. Along with that, it was soaked, its feathers in bedraggled disarray and missing in places. The bird lay still for so long without uttering any sound or even trying to right itself of explore the space that Killian feared for a horrible moment that it must be near death.

Peering closer with careful, gentle movements, he saw that the petrel was injured as well as weakened. Not immediately apparent because of how ruffled in was in general, Killian noted that its wing was bent at an awkward angle along its side rather than folded up properly in repose.

The bird hardly lifted its head as Killian stroked one finger down its back, hoping to soothe and offer even the tiniest bit of comfort. Striding urgently across the room, he swung the cabin door open, calling urgently down the hall for Whale, the ship’s doctor, to come on the double; he was needed in the Captain’s quarters.

Whirling to re-enter the room, Killian’s eyes quickly passed over the space, noting the crust of his bread left from supper and the seeds which had been baked atop it still littering the plate. He brought it quickly to his patient, then poured some water for the pitched by his washstand into the empty saucer which had held soup, hoping he might coax the petrel to eat even a morsel and gain some nourishment.

Next, he grasped a plush cotton dressing gown, hanging untouched on the door of his closest, purposefully out of easy sight. It had been Milah’s favorite to wrap up in after the rare luxury of a bath, and the sight of it or the feel of its material beneath his fingers had wrung his heart until now, bringing the hot, raging need for vengeance back to the fore. He was suddenly glad he had not parted with it though. He didn’t dare jostle the injured bird overmuch for fear of hurting it further. But while he couldn’t rub it down to dry it fully, he could tuck the robe’s downy layers around it and warm its shivering frame.

“There now, little one,” he crooned gently. “Take a bit of food and catch your breath. You’re safe now…” his voice caught and he swallowed before adding, “We’ll put you back to rights, don’t fret.”

Killian didn’t actually know if a ship’s surgeon could set a bird’s wing as he would a human man’s broken arm, but he could hear Whale’s footsteps pounding down the hall toward his cabin, and knew he would find out soon. Before Whale - or anyone else - could arrive to see him, Killian bent to carefully lean over the bird’s small form, not sure what possessed him, but following the instinct before he could question it. As delicately as possible for someone who’d had no cause for gentility in longer than he could remember, for just one breath, one single heartbeat, he brought his lips to the bird’s tiny head. Maybe it was brought on by some long-buried memory of his own mother, lost to his mind’s eye other than a voice whose soothing singing sometimes echoed in his sleep, but the kiss seemed an offering to ease fever pain and fear with hope and good wishes.

It was the barest brush contact - a mere moment’s touch - but the air in the room abruptly changed. Something seemed to shrink and then expand; the atmosphere held its breath. Glittering rainbow hues flashed in front of his eyes, and Killian jerked backwards in alarm. The petrel’s shape went a bit hazy as Killian strained to understand what was happening right before his eyes, and then his small friend began to grow and change, forcing him to take a few more stunned steps backward and wonder if he had somehow hit his head and addled his brain. His accustomed companion was transforming even as he watched.

He heard a shout as Whale - and probably a few curious others too - came to a halt behind him. Exclamations of awe and surprise were heard but left unacknowledged over his shoulder. Killian blinked, trying be sure he could trust his vision and to reconcile what shouldn’t be possible, but sat before him.

Where the storm petrel had lay near death just seconds ago, stood a blushing, beautiful young woman. She was equally soaked to the skin, long blonde hair plastered to her head and shoulders. Her lithe, slender frame trembled where she stood clutching the dressing gown around her tightly. Still, there was something about her eyes as she stared back at him silently; something that he knew deep within despite never having seen her before.

She cocked her head curiously, as if she too was trying to understand where she was and what had happened. With that motion, Killian knew without a shadow of a doubt. This young woman had been his petrel; his long lost avian friend was this lovely woman. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he was absolutely certain. And he was drawn to her just as he had been to her former guise. She took a cautious step toward him, and he held out a hand to draw her near and hold her close. Whatever had brought them together, whatever magic was at work, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld.

~~*~~*~~

By the time rays of morning sunlight came slanting down the walls inside Killian’s cabin, he and his soulmate - he knew that now - had talked the whole night through. She was no longer a storm petrel but a princess what had been cursed to take on avian form, and his act of True Love - aware of it or not - had set her free. The jealous witch who’d cast the spell had falsely believed the princess was luring her chosen partner away rather than accept that he had a roving eye. Petrels were a migratory species, keeping her far from all she knew and loved - and of course, unable to speak or gain help for her affliction. For hours they sat side-by-side on his bunk, hands clasped tightly as this woman - Emma, her name was Emma - told him what she’d experience ever since the curse took hold, shifting her very reality to something unfathomable. Tears pooled in her eyes, glistening on her lashes, both while recounting her own trials, and then again while listening to the betrayal and loss that had shaken Killian’s world to its foundations as well.

The connection between them from Emma’s first appearance on his ship drew them ever closer as they talked, and touched, and inevitably joined in another kiss. This time it was two souls meeting on equal footing, and they drank deeply of the perfection that shook them each to the core. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way; the two of them bound to meet long before they ever knew. Neither could explain the pull, but it also couldn’t be denied.

As they went topside the next morning and Killian began to introduce her to an eagerly enthusiastic crew, he didn’t even try to explain, but simply savored the moment, thrilled that all the heartache and pain had finally brought him there, with Emma at his side. Her smaller frame tucked seamlessly into his side as she beamed at his new ally and charmed them one and all.

When they stood at the wheel - just the two of them again at last - Killian behind her, his arms encircling her as he steered the ship, he felt the same joy he had when she’d kept him company perched on the wheel so many times before, but magnified exponentially now that they could fully communicate and understand one another. With the salt air in their faces and the horizon in view, they set sail - a happy new beginning stretching out ahead of them.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @scientificapricot @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @lenfaz @jonesfandomfanatic

@eastwesthomeisbest @grimmswan @stahlop @belovedcreation @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @caught-in-the-filter @resident-of-storybrooke

@the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @goforlaunchcee @mie779 @kday426 @iamstartraveller776

[queermentaldisaster]

Okay. Ykw?

I'm giving y'all (and myself) a list of AUs. Tell me which ones you wanna hear about most.

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

Shifter!Au

Vamp!Soap and Human!Ghost

Monster!141 and Human!Soap

God!Soap Au

Hazbin!Au

Nurtured Wings!Au

Dog Hybrid!Ghost Au

Httyd!Au

Guardian Demon!Soap and Human!Ghost

Mind, Body, and Soul Au (Amphibia x COD MW crossover, GhostSoapRoach)

Mer!Au

Naga!Ghost!Au

Demon!Soap and Human!Ghost

Spiderverse!Ghoap

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf

[sesshy380]

New WereKat AU stuff! This time it's the main bad guys for the story! Well...more like the assholes of the story lol

First up, we have Amir's brother, King Marik.

Marik became King of the Kemati Nation after his father passed away (under some very mysterious circumstances). There was already some growing dissent from the people of his nation towards the royal house, and since Marik attained the crown, that dissent has only grown louder.

It probably doesn't help that Marik has a bit of a devil in his ear...

Meet Ryou's brother, Zorc of House Necrophades.

Zorc is...Zorc. Unlike Ryou, he is proud to be from and ancient line and he goes the extra step to flaunt his status. He has no qualms walking around with his thrall in tow for when he's in the mood for a little snack. It irks him to no end to see his brother choosing a more 'pacifist' lifestyle, considering he knows the real Ryou. He feels that Ryou is tarnishing the name Necrophades, and he aims to rectify that.

Bonus (because it's hard to see in the full image due to Zorc being uber emo-goth and wearing very little color contrast), Zorc's heel-less high-heels that kinda resemble hoof-boots! (still kinda hard to see the contrast shading, but it is there)

That's all for now on these two. They will be introduced separately in the story, but by a certain point it will be obvious they are working together.

[galaxythedragonshifter]

I kinda wanna answer questions about Galaxy so imma make a QnA post thing!

I have several Galaxy AUs, I'll list as many as I can here, and you can ask about any of em!

Original!Galaxy/NinjagoMultiverseAU! Galaxy (this is her original storyline. I have most of the story in my head, and can probably answer any question. As per the name of this AU, its set in a multiverse, so FNaF, Murder Drones, Lackadaisy, WoF, Minecraft Story Mode, and all fictional universes are canon. She's only been to a few (out of the infinite universes, so yeah. Crystalized also took place a year after she ended up in Ninjago, as well as Morro's mortal return, so there's that!)

Murder Drones AU (Essentially Galaxy as a worker drone! I have most of this lore too!)

Pirates of the Caribbean AU (this is a relatively new one (by new, barely a week old), but I have a good chunk of lore!)

Deal with the Enemy (Lackadaisy) AU (this one I have a wip fic for! Questions might actually help me develop the story a bit!)

Blue visor!AU (basically, an au of my multiverse Au set in a post apocalyptic cyberpunk Ninjago. Galaxy's reputation has been ruined by an evil alternate version of herself, and has taken the identity of Blue Visor (the leader of the resistance) to hide her identity, and keep fighting after the ninja's deaths.)

WoF AU (this is very little developed. I have a design for her and a few details, but not too much. I'm hoping to get it developed a little more!)

MLP Infection AU (also a new one, and I don't have the infection fully developed yet, so questions would probably help with that! I have stat art for her, but I probably won't post until I can disable third party sharing (as I don't want my stuff shared with AI))

Spiderverse!AU (Galaxy as a spider woman. Don't have this one all that well developed, but she's in the same universe as Spiderverse Herobrine, and he's her mentor. I have designs of both (Gal's from a picrew), but again, I probably won't post the answer until I can disable that sharing setting.)

Evil!Galaxy (as this one suggests, this is Galaxy, but opposite. I wanted to play around with Galaxy's moral values, and flip them on their head. Takes place in an AU of the multiverse au.)

Guidelines:

No NSFW asks (THEY WILL BE DELETED, AND YOU'LL BE BLOCKED)

You're allowed to ask as many questions as you want, from as many different ones as you want! Just be sure to specify which each question belongs to!!^^

And here's her TH folder, in case y'all want to see what she looks like before asking! https://toyhou.se/GalaxyDragonshifter/characters/folder:4802082

[meebsy342]

New Batfamily Wings/Shifter AU is up! 🩷 I hope it’s enjoyable! 🥹

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50638084

[ghostlynimbus]

I want to write or do art

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

😭 Spence grabbed a handful of chips and when it was time to cheer their drinks he just put his hand up with the chips 😭

[beloveds-embrace]

wait omg shifter!au where you are a flightless harpy- wings cut off, vicious scars lining your back where they used to be. It took so, long for you to get your balance back and learn how to function without them, but you’ve also resigned yourself to never having a mate because who, in their right mind, would accept a defect harpy like you? You are just glad you are the only harpy in your homtown so you don’t have to feel horrified stares constantly boring into you from your kin.

Until the 141 move into the town post-retirement. Until you meet Gaz, a fellow harpy, and one who thinks you are still the prettiest thing he’s ever seen even flightless.

[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[atomite-ton]

chimera shifter ghost au where he grows and changes through various animal features.

it’s constant to the point he has to entirely cover up to prevent others from seeing as feathers melt into scales, back into skin, quills emerging only to be replaced with spines and then whiskers.

after a full week of consistently carrying varying kinds of bird wings on his back, soap finally convinces him to let him preen the itching feathers as they descend into disarray.

halfway through, as soap’s sitting straddling ghost's back where he’s splayed out on his bed for better access, the feathers start to stretch and meld together. soft fluff is replaced with iridescent membrane that splits and elongates into 4 fluttering dragonfly wings.

ghost, half asleep and completely relaxed below him, doesn't seem to notice. so soap just continues gently running a dampened washcloth along the newly smooth surface, admiring the shimmer, and quietly memorizes the subtle green shine along delicate veins to later document into his sketchbook.

ghost doesn’t know it yet, but soap keeps a detailed documentation of every shape he falls into. Every scale, antler and spine lovingly etched in graphite and whatever coloured pigment he can get his hands on, safely kept in its own special journal. it's safe to say soap delights in the ever shifting face of his lieutenant, but what truly catches his attention, is the man who wears it. (and maybe one day, when ghost finally sees it, its the final push he needs to finally let soap in. ghost's made him wait long enough.) ((soap doesn't mind. he would have waited forever, if that's how long it took.))

[brineoffire]

Part 1 of that hybrid au i was talking about yall! Warnings for hints of non-con, canon typical violence, slavery.

You are a rare type of dragon, sought after by many people, especially criminals. When one finally gets his hands on you your life is run by him completely, until he finds himself in the firing line of task force 141.

You sit on a plush armchair in the center of the room, your legs draped over one of the armrests and your wings spread out over the other, webbed ends resting on the floor. You're reclined with your head tilted back, your neck exposed and showing off the studded leather collar sitting there, metal detailing glinting under the spotlight. 

Staring at the ceiling has been your go to these days, especially when Alphonso, your owner of over eight years now, insisted on you being splayed out when he had guests. You hear a sharp whistle and your pointed ears flick towards the sound, eyes following soon after, meeting Alphonso's from the entrance to the dining room. Taking the cue you pull yourself up to sit on the armrest and spread your wings, the fur over their tops ruffling up as you stretch your arms over your head, your back arching to show them off to the people that stream in behind him. With your chin tilted up you watch him, just as he taught you to. Your eyes track each one who dares to meet your gaze, the light glinting off them menacingly. 

He's speaking to them with his usual confidence, his charm oozing off of him in waves. It never ceases to disgust you, the fakeness of it all. You've seen him behind closed doors. When all the business is over and the man's psychopathic tendencies override his charisma. Behind you your tail slides over the opposite arm rest, its furred end flicking as you play your part. An over glorified guard dog. A trophy to be shined and put on display. 

Dragons are already one of the more unique beings found in the world of monsters and men and you being half furred half scaled has left you in an even smaller category. One that had you straight through the black market as soon as you turned eighteen, your parents unable to deny the amount of money they were offered nor the threats on their lives when you were with them. You hardly remember them at this point, not like you'd care to either way. They always thought it was too dangerous to let you out of the house too often, always making sure to keep you close when they did. They were right of course, but in the eyes of a child, a cage was a cage, no matter the necessity.

Now here you sit, glaring out at the people behind your master, muscles visibly tense and coiled tightly. It's part of your duty to protect Alphonso, and with all the conditioning he's put you through you make damn sure to be perfect at it. There are armed guards stationed around the room, but you're meant to be faster than them. You're meant to look prettier too, meaning you'll be punished if you don't protect him and if you're injured too badly.

He finishes whatever loud speech he was giving and the crowd slowly files into the tables around you. Turning to you he smiles sweetly and his steps echo louder than anyone else's. His guests are still filing in as he takes his seat, your tail snaking around the back of his shoulders and flicking over his lap. You hear him give you a hum of approval as he leans back in the seat.

As always his hand slides up your neck, fingers grazing your collar as he tugs lightly at the chains on your muzzle. The one you wear today is a sparkly thing. Gold chains held together with leather straps, a set of gems glittering over the bridge of the nose and over your cheeks. He rests his elbow on your thigh, his hand lightly gripping the chain that links your collar to the muzzle and waits for everyone to enter.

You keep on your guard, scanning the crowd until you smell something odd. Alphonso's guests are usually a mix of humans, magic users, and monsters. Of the monsters he hosts it's usually undead types, shifters, and vampires but today is different. Today one of the scents is masked, it's not enough to throw off your nose though. Somewhere in the room is another dragon, and you know, for a fact, that Alphonso knows no other dragons.

You scan the room carefully, you know Alphonso would be more upset that you didn't catch them at the door, so you just keep watch. Whatever spell they are under is good, most likely casted with very expensive materials, but even with such good quality you slowly pick through the most likely suspects. There ends up being three separate tables with a few separate people.

One woman who sits in a back corner, a dark gown with expensive shifter furs around her neck and shoulders. A taller man sitting next to a large, muscular woman both wearing the exact same suits. Then there's another tall man sitting with a dark skinned harpy man, simple dark suits adorned with fine jewelry and detailing. Your eyes scan over them cautiously, making sure to memorize their details as you watch. Raising the alarm now would only end in more trouble than it's worth, so for now you keep quiet and keep the three tables in check. 

Once everyone is seated a pair of Alphonso's chefs come out, bringing him a small table with tonight's dinner. He takes his time looking over it with a wide grin before nodding to the chefs. At his approval the pair leave once again a group of waiters filing in to deliver the same plates to the rest of his guests. You watch them as they work, taking their distraction to stare at the tables you noted. As the lone woman gets her food you notice one of the chefs specifically gives her a special flute of wine. She raises the glass in Alphonso's direction and he nods to her. 

The remaining two tables are treated normally so you watch the table with the man and woman first. You note that they spend their time speaking quietly, completely ignoring the plates they are given. Only the glasses of champagne they have refilled again are touched at all. Watching them speak you realize there are sharp fangs where canines would be. These two are vampires which means only the last table with the man and the harpy is left.

You look over to the last of the three tables watching  the man and harpy thank the staff for their food. Manners among Alphonse's company is already out of place, but definitely not a sign of hostility. Watching them talk to each other you can't help but stare at the harpy. His wings are a marble of several different browns and blacks, the darker colors reflecting with a slightly red tint. Watching him speak your trail, your eye's over his sharp jawline, lingering on soft looking lips before you switch your attention.

When you finally set your sights on the other man, you catch his eyes immediately. He had been watching you as your eyes wandered over the harpy. Keeping eye contact with him is easy, you tilt your head up slightly, a show of acknowledgement, but you exhale a small breath of heat. It's a nearly invisible wave of steam that rolls over your parted lips and through the bars of your muzzle. It's a dragon's warning, one you know he can see clearly. One that tells him you see exactly what he is and that you're standing your ground.

Surprisingly, he lowers his head in a quick bow, acknowledging your territory. Normally the people that try any assault are either full of fear or boiling anger. You take in his face for a moment longer, memorizing the facial hair over his jaw, the almost permanent furrow of his brow, and the way his dark eyes hold your gaze without malice. When he breaks eye contact you watch him turn to the harpy and exchange a few words.

You barely hear over the murmur of the crowd, though you're sure he chuckles. As they finish talking the harpy's dark eyes slide over to meet yours. Soft and dark much like his companion's. Though from this distance your eyes still catch the slivers of gold that run through them. You can't help but tilt your head curiously at the view which brings a smile to his lips. At that you break your stare to continue scanning the rest of the room as Alphonso eats behind you. The two men exchange glances again but you don't notice, keeping your focus on your duties now that you've examined them.

A hand trails over the strip of fur over the top of your tail and you glance over your shoulder. Alphonso is giving you a pleased smirk as he leans back in his seat. He tugs your tail back roughly, pulling you into his lap. You've already expected it, your wings spreading out over the opposite arm rest to catch yourself slightly as you settle on his lap, eyes trained on his face. 

“That's my boy. Good.” He says with a charming grin as his hands settle on your knees and the back of your neck. His fingers fiddle idly with your collar, trailing over it as he watches his crowd. You've always hated when he got like this. Always wanted to pull away from his touches because you know for him it's just a display of ownership. He's drilled it into your head to keep still for him so he can show you off. Show off how he owns you completely.

[applestruda]

Boatem Knights AU Masterpost!!

a silly knights au i made that started as a joke, but now has quite a bit of lore, worldbuilding, and lovely writing behind it! I will hopefully continue to add to this as more gets developed.

Character designs

The Knights:

old designs - boatem (impulse, grian, pearl, scar, and mumbo)

new designs - boatem (impulse, grian, pearl, scar, and mumbo)

vex scar

watcher siblings (pearl and grian)

Big Eyes:

the big eyes crew (tango, bdubs, keralis)

bdubs design breakdown

tango design breakdown

Dogwarts + Doc:

Ren

Martyn

Bigb

Doc

Misc Folks:

Cub

Jimmy

Joel and Lizzie

Skizz

Gem and Etho

Art

Campfire song

Knights portraits

Company car scheme

Scar and familiar Jellie

Impulse sketch

Desert duo sketch (1)

Desert duo sketch (2)

Pearl sketch

Grian and mumbo sketch

Healing (mini comic)

Vex scar

Vex scar comic

Boob-window comic

Vex cub + convex doodle

Ancient paths

Impulse doodle

Team rancher doodle

Four armed Pearl sketch

Strongest knights sketch

Scar and Jellie

Only Human chapter 1

Only Human chapter 2

Only Human chapter 3

Only Human chapter 4

Mumbo and sunsets

Rancher hug

Ranchers and Jimmy's wings

"That's awkward" (mini comic)

Hunter joel

Perfect impulse (mini comic)

Inn fight

Asks and Textposts

(I'm probably only going to include important worldbuilding or character related asks here, also, there's gonna be posts here that mention having "no idea" for backstories and the like, but by now those have been developed.)

Convex canon + familiar Jellie

Vex magic

Grian and Impulse backstory ideas (starter concepts)

Vex scar (1)

Vex scar + evoker cub

"Freelance knights" + weapons

Convex

Traces of magic (scar + jellie)

Shape shifter mumbo

Impulse is just a guy

Boatem knights design breakdowns

Horse marriage

Fics!!

These fics are written by the lovely Zera Hopepetal and Elle Periwinklemoonlight, and are canon to the stories of the knights and the other folks in this au

Boatem knights writing masterpost (Zera)

Somewhere only we know (Elle)

little sunshine (Elle)

[queermentaldisaster]

✿❥Masterlist/Info❥✿

I'm Elowen! I write fanfics, and post about shit I like! I also talk with my mutuals a lot! I use she/they/it/xe/ze/lotus pronouns! I do read dark fic and have dabbled in writing it. This is a safe space for all, I do not tolerate hatred of any kind. If you are hateful to others, I will block you. I am not religious at all. I am happily taken, any attempts at flirting with me in a srs manner will be shut down. I do support Palestine, wholeheartedly. Zionists, racists, transphobes, homophobes, ableists, zoophiles, MAPs, etc, DNI (translation, don't be a fuckin asshole or creep.) Also, if you support making stories and art using AI or use AI to make stories and art, get the fuck off my page. Reasons for that are listed here. Dividers can be found here, they're by @gild-ui <3

I cannot however spread fundraisers or news about Palestine. I have anxiety and it's bad for my mental health to see the stuff happening. I still do support though.

My AO3

(this has other fics there too, feel free to check those out)

My AUs

(I am begging you to ask me about these, please 🙏)

My DeviantArt

Blogs I run:

@fallenembe (marvel oc rp blog)

@dragonquest-rottenbrain (dq side blog)

@konigsblume-central (blog for me and my partner to ramble about the oc x canon ship we made)

@electricloverspider (Miles Morales rp blog set in the Insomniac Games)

@councilwomanmamamorales (Rio Morales rp blog set in the Insomniac Games)

@deadpoolsfunkyblogtm (My blog for a vaguely ic Deadpool because I wanted one :3)

All fics/series currently on AO3:

"The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To" - Series, currently a WIP, two parts completed.

“Eldritch!Soap” - Series, one part completed.

"Mer/Siren Au" - Series, 1 part, WIP.

"The Dancing And The Dreaming" - HTTYD!AU, currently WIP, 3 chapters so far

“The Hunt Is My Muse” - Shifter!AU, nine chapters complete.

“I Have Traveled Far Beyond the Path of Reason” - MW3 fix it fic, part one of the Eldritch!Soap series.

“Stars Drawn Around Scars” - A Ghost/GN!Reader fluff oneshot.

“Count On Me” - A short Ghoap wedding planning oneshot.

“The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To” - Part One of my Monster!Au series, complete.

“Another Love” - Part Two of my Monster!Au series, complete.

“There's A Revolution Coming” - Part Three of my Monster!Au series, three chapters complete. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

“Shoulda Been Dead a Long Time Ago” - MW3 fix-it fic with Venom!Ghoap :3

"5 Times Ghost Scared Someone With His Spidery Things + 1 Time It Made Soap Horny" - Spiderverse!Ghoap

"What if We Rewrite the Stars? (No One Can Rewrite the Stars)" - Mer!Soap x Siren!Ghost, part 1 of the Mer/Siren au!

"Godmother, Rise Up, I Need You to See Me For What I Have Become" - Brainwashed!Soap au

Out of My Head - Ghoap oneshot based on Soap's tendency to disassociate when left with nothing to do

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[tubbytarchia]

@mcyt-yuri-week day 2 Royalty/Knight, for which I had a very basic idea and then spiralled fully into AU territory without meaning to... Gem is a dragon huntress and it turns out the princess is a secret dragon shifter haha oops!! More thoughts under cut

Gem is a knight who serves the kingdom via hunting dragons to make ends meet, accompanied by a "hound" dragon, raised from birth to hunt other dragons and obey humans - The kingdom's "gift" to her to aid her. (Because how the hell is some basic solitary knight gonna hunt dragons without any help)

One day she spots, ambushes and follows this moth-like dragon that she's only heard of in rumors before

(the little butterfly tail is to distract or lure teehee)

In an attempt to escape the dragon weasels itself into a small cave but Gem's dragon quickly sniffs it out, only for her to come face to face with the princess. Naturally she's like "oh shit you're the princess this is awkward" (also no dragon shifters have been known to exist) and ofc she's not going to kill her then. Not only is there the moral dilemma of killing an innocent human but she also hasn't much to gain from it. Instead she just needs to figure out a way to get Pearl back to the kingdom and try to treat her injuries as well as think up an excuse for why Pearl would be in such a sorry state. She assures Pearl that she won't rat her out even though Pearl is convinced she will because it's valuable intel. Gem could probably swindle a lot of money out of this. But Gem's way too panicked regardless because her life is as good as over if anyone finds out that she harmed the princess

Gem is kinda brash and grits pleasantries through her teeth whenever she's talking to royalty so being stuck with the princess is hell (and somehow almost as concerning to her as the fact that she just discovered a dragon shifter) meanwhile Pearl is trying to get her to drop said pleasantries and appeal to her in an effort to stop Gem from revealing her to anyone (even though Gem wasn't going to regardless but Pearl's equally as panicked as Gem)

Also the hound awoo (I didnt mean for it to have almost the same bodytype as Pearl dragon oops)

And I guess idk!! Im a sucker for any monster shapeshifter forbidden romance plot etc man. That shit makes me weak. So this can just transpire into some little adventure/discovery story. Pearl struggles to accept that Gem doesn't want to rat her out and in trying to appeal to her, she quickly becomes genuine when they hit it off and Pearl finds newfound yearning to leave her princess life behind now that someone knows about her secret. Gem is actually working for the kingdom because something is being held against her, but she leaves duty and goes awol (and becomes wanted oops) to venture out with Pearl to help her find what she's looking for because Gem feels eternally guilty given their first confrontation. Pearl's wings also need to heal for awhile so that's further reason for Gem to aid her. Maybe she also likes Pearl a bit. Just maybe. Idk could be anyone's guess.... Would be crazy if she did