#agile flyers

[prokopetz]

The real reason your sapient dragon character needs a "rider":

Dragons on the wing are vulnerable to being mobbed by smaller, more agile flyers, particularly in your large rear blind spot, like a bird of prey being mobbed by crows. Having a human armed with a long spear perched on your back helps to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.

Breath weapons are impressive enough on the ground, but in flight they're really only good for strafing stationary targets; trying to use your breath weapon in an aerial dogfight is a good way to get fire up your nose. A real fight calls for sterner measures – and, concomitantly, a crew to aim and reload the cannons.

In today's competitive world, it's not enough to devour a flock of sheep and call it a day if you want to keep your edge. You're accompanied at all times by a qualified personal alchemist tasked with carefully regulating your internal furnace to ensure peak performance, and sometimes you even listen to them.

No dragon of any quality would be caught dead without their valet. It's not as though you can announce your numerous long-winded titles yourself when introductions are called for, can you? You suppose next you'll be expected to pick up the spoils of your conquests yourself, like a common brigand. Perish the thought!

[epithelium]

Birds are just transcendently beautiful and I know that's not a hot take but like listen to me. Go carefully observe a swallow or a corvid in flight and you will understand why the world is worth saving. Beauty everywhere in all things constantly!

[maylovessyou]

Part 1 - Why you out of everyone?

This is the first part of my story, there are no extremely sensitive topics so the only tw is swearing.

Hope you enjoy💞

Word count: 1,000+

You were new in Kortac, a newbie. You joined not because you wanted to serve the country and all of that bullshit, no, you joined because that was the only shelter you could find. No family, no friends, no one.

You socialised with pretty much everyone, despite your young age no one saw that as a problem. You talked and joked with everyone, everyone beside the colonel. König.

He hated you, he hated the fact that you weren't as skilled as the others, that you wasn't as agile and strong as the others, that you were, oh, so young. And most of all he hated that joined the army under his same circumstances, being left alone against the world.

Everything was going fine, you and König ignored and avoided each other for god's sake, and that was a good thing actually, no arguments and yelling in the corridors or the headquarters.

One day, though, the captain calls you to his office and there you find him, you start fuming but try not to make a scene in front of the captain, so you take a seat next to the colonel, in silence.

The captain slides across the table a picture, "you two will be sent to Bruxelles, it's a very important mission." "Your first" says as he points at you, "with this we'll decide whether or not your worth keeping."

"And another one for you, colonel." says as he points at König.

"I know you two aren't on the best of terms, but this is important for the squad." He sternly says. "Besides... It's 7 months that you'll spend in the same house, I bet you'll become best friends by then." He sarcastically teases the both of you.

You don't say anything and just look at the flyer he'd given you, it's a pretty cottage in the woods, the one you've always dreamed of... But then you remember his words. 7 months with König, the house might be one from your dreams, but everything that ocmes with it is straight out of a nightmare.

Since you were a mere soldier every single one of your protests won't have any effect on the captain's decision, so you hope that König will say something, that he'll argue to be put with someone else. But no, he just nods and gets up.*

"I'll prepare my luggages then." König finally speaks, his tone colder than ice, yet somewhat calm.

You don't say anything and stand up as well, then head to your room and begin to pack your stuff. In no time you're put in a flight to Bruxelles and at the arrival you're given a car, nothing old nor fancy, enough to make you unrecognizable to the eyes of citizens, and the enemy, of course.

From where you land to the house there's an hour and a half in car, and it feels like an eternal hell, bound in the same plane, now the same car, and for months under the same roof.

For the whole ride you think back at the captain's word... "You might be sent away for so much time, but until the enemy doesn't move, you stay at home and don't make yourself visible more than what you should.", "You'll grow to, well, maybe not love each other, but at least there won't be any yelling in the middle of the night 'jusy because'."

Then the car stops, you look at the house you previously saw in a photo, you get your luggages and get inside.

The house is well fornitured and very aesthetic, just like you imagined.

You take a look around walk down an isle, on the sides there are two bedrooms, and you choose the bigger one.

You quickly put all your stuff away, take out one of your biggest teddy bears and collapse on the bed, taking a nap.

König explores the house a little later than you, he peeks through the room and sees that you've already fallen asleep in one, the bigger one, without even talking about it first so he curses at you. "Little bitch, always getting what you want." he sighs in frustration "even sleeps with stuffed animal, such a child!" He whisper-yells to himself, your sight alone pissing him off.

He walks away from your door and gets into the other rooms, he also puts his stuff away and drops on the bed, falling into a deep sleep.

After some time you feel refreshed and yku wake up, when you check the time it's 7.34pm so you decide to make something for dinner.

You get up and as you walk out of your room you see that the door to König's room is wide open and you see that he's sleeping peacefully. You don't say anything and just walk away.

You get to the kitchen and start to boil some water, then cook the pasta and make a sauce. You plate the food and hesitantly walk to his room again.

"König... I made dinner, come eat. You haven't eaten anything all day." You almost whisper, your tone caring, hiding the hatred you feel for him.

After a couple of seconds he turns around, the muscles on his bare back flexing with every movement, and looks at you perplexed, "I'm coming." He mutter as he tried to get up.

So after some time you two are in the kitchen, eating together, in complete silence.

When you're almost done eating, you're phone starts to buzz, someone's calling you under the name of "love", and König can't help but look at the screen. "Who is she calling love?" He thinks to himself, questioning the girl in front of him.

You excuse yourself and pick up, walking out of the kitchen and into a more closed space.

"Heyy, how are you??" You say, a female voice excitedly replies "good y/n, and you? We haven't talked in AGES!!" She quickly muttere, happy to hear from her best friend again.

"Nothing much." You reply, "I've been assigned a mission and I i have to share a house with him. You say rolling your eyes.*

Your best friend bursts out laughing from the other side of the phone and begins to rant about how unlucky you are.

You two laughed together at the whole situation and even made a little harsh comments... all without noticing that König was in fact behind you, listening at the whole conversation.

[tribbetherium]

'As agile airborne flyers, wingles make ideal pollinators, and the symbiosis between them and numerous plants, including cloverferns, grasses and dwarf shrub-trees goes back since their first emergence in the Early Temperocene. As many species of pollinating insects also co-exist, different flowers have adapted to cater to different visitors, with ones pollinated by insects producing thin, watery nectar that can be sipped up through a straw-like proboscis, while others that draw in wingles instead having viscous, syrup-like nectar easily scooped out by the wingles' spoon-like tongues.'

[jaxi-the-dragonborn]

iridescent nightwing adopts! Tried something new this time! So the spikes at their hips and tail are actually specialized scales so they can catch the wind better. they are very agile and precise flyers! star scales on the wings only appear on about 25% of the population, and being moonborn causes them to have more patches of white/silver on their scales (like number 3)

so the fullbody adopts are 25$ each, but I can make a fullbody reference for them for 50$ (I can make any alterations to the design that you request!)

the headshot adopts are pay any price! and as usual if you pay 15$ you get a custom wing design and for 50$ it is a custom fullbody design.

here is my ko-fi! the list for availability is under the cut

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[cozzzynook]

I’ve been thinking of triple changer bee, hear me out now pls. I don’t have his origins nailed down yet but so far I got: he was originally forged as a seeker, but minibot style since the war was beginning and most of the resources were being taken up leaving only scraps. later, for some reason, he got a T-cog for a grounder alt mode and he refrained himself from using his flyer alt mode after. occasionally he does fly but rarely and on his own. he doesn’t have wings like other seekers do, instead his wings are extra durable armor on his frame (ex. his arms). but when he gets to earth and gains both alt modes he gets door wings because cybertronian cars don’t have doors.

why am I telling you this? because I think you’ll like it and if you have anything else to add onto this! like ships or anything, like what how do you think the bots bee’s close with would react to this small bug being a triple changer. love your writing!!

Thank you so much! Send as many asks or ramble/ideas as you like 🩷

I like this idea and him not using his seeker frame much despite being one before becoming a grounder is so cool and opens the door for me to say he was raised by the elite trine during the war and at that time sparklings were huge targets and weakness and seekers were being hunted since almost all of them joined the decepticon cause.

So Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp would teach Bee to only use his wings when with them in private so he wouldn’t be an even bigger target.

I’m putting my own spin on this saying Bee had what was considered a dysfunctional t-cog since he didn’t have typical seeker wings. Instead he had wings that resembled an actual bumblebee. His door wings would transform and fan out allowing him to take flight. His wings gave off the hum of an actual bee and he was quite fast in the air but he couldn’t reach the same feats regular seekers could but his small stature worked in his favor when it came to speed and agility.

He wasn’t used in the war since the trine didn’t want their sparkling in danger but he still wanted to prove himself and so he would sneak off to Megatron when he was old enough and the mech would give him the job of spying on the autobots.

At first Megatron only sent him to places that weren’t dangerous so he could keep the mini from actual harm since he would not have Starscream or the other two actually trying and succeeding in offlining him for endangering their sparkling.

It wasn’t until Bee had to hide in the lower bowels of autobot territory did he gather important information that later helped him become an actual spy and find a grounder t-cog that was added to his frame later on so he could blend in better.

The trine hated it but Bee was so happy he could do something and prove himself since he was so the smallest, youngest and weakest among their group.

No one really minded since he was the bitty of their ranks along with a few others but Bee did.

Bee had the typical seeker frame that was slender and no bulk with a blade in one arm and a small energy canon in the other. His carriers Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp hated the way his frame ended up looking like a femme when he fully became an adult mecha. Bee loved it but they hated it because they didn’t think any bot was worthy to look at their baby while Bee had to suffer getting spike blocked by his carriers and all the older bots who would shove the mechs his age away from him.

Bee loved his carriers but he needed a moment, just a moment, away from them.

That moment turned into him being kidnapped and taken as a “survivor” in autobot clutches.

Bee immediately commed his carriers and Megatron only to see Longarm who he knew was actually Shockwave in disguise. He managed to find a moment alone with the shape changer and reveal a hidden servo code in case the mech didn’t know who he was.

“I know exactly who you are little bee. I’ve already alerted your carriers and Lord Megatron of your location just as you have. You were smart to do so but not smart to go off on your own like that.”

“Im a grown mecha I can have a moment alone!”

He had little flicks of electricity dancing between his horns at his frustration and Shockwave didn’t make it any better when he laughed calling him a sparkling.

“That may be, but you are still a youngling at spark.”

“Ugh!”

The plan was to get Bee to a certain location so the cons could grab him but the autobots snatched Bee when Shockwave was busy at a council meeting and took him onto the command ship lead by Sentinel Prime and Jazz who has held Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Bulkhead and Prowl along with Jetfire and Jetstorm.

Bee wakes up to his carriers frantic comms and Shockwaves massages along with Megatron demanding his status.

He immediately shares optic feed with his carriers out of fear because he’s never been away from them, not like this. Not since they found him at the hot spot waiting for their cna to make complete him.

He sheds a few static fluids trying to put on a brave face plate only to be completely terrified by the two mechs Jazz and Prowl sneaking up on him and asking if he was alright.

He’s not proud to admit he shrieked and swiped his claws at them before high tailing. He’s happy he at least did one thing in defense besides run but he was not proud to hide as he tried finding a data room to get coordinates to leave.

Thankfully his carriers and Megatron knew the system he was traveling and his carriers were on their way. But it would take years to get there without a transwarp, he told them as much and all three of his carriers were foaming at the mouth at the realization they had to leave him to get back home himself.

“I’ll come back to you…I promise..I’ll gather any intel that could be useful while playing my role. Any luck and I can make my way back to him on Cybertron.”

They knew who bee meant and they still didn’t like it but Bee tried to put on the front of a brave soldier and Megatron respected him enough to humor it even if he was shaking at the vocalizer.

“Please don’t forget me,” he whispered before he cut transmission off and stood.

Luck was on his side because autobots never knew his existence thanks to careful crafting and his amazing gift of espionage despite his loud mouth and colorful frame. He really was one of the best spies the cons had to offer and he trained under the best with watchful optics from his carriers.

But now he was a grown mech on his own and it was time he grew up.

“Kid, I know you’re scared but we won’t hurt ya. We just wanted ta check on ya,” Bee jumped in surprise at the sound of the older mech so close to him.

He looked behind himself to see all the mechs on board giving him a sympathetic gaze and he hated it.

He had knowledge on who each bot was in the room and the one he truly disliked was the aft head making his way towards him with a frown on his face and a pipe up his exhaust port.

“Don’t go causing any more trouble just because you’re scared civi. Got it!”

He wanted to upper cut the spikeless mech but the one named Optimus stepped forward quite literally pushing Sentinel out of the way and bending a little to speak to Bee politely.

“We should’ve had a better plan and someone friendly like Bulkhead here to greet you when you woke but we were preoccupied. I apologize for the panic we’ve caused you. Please, ask any questions you’d like and I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Please don’t bend down to talk to me I’m not a new spark I’m almost a two million years old.”

“Not a new spark my aft,” Ratchet grouched smirking.

If he didn’t remind Bee of a grandsire he’d be fuming right about now.

“I’m sorry for that,” Optimus’s helm fins moved back in embarrassment and the one named Jazz slung an arm around Prowls waist, probably conjunx judging from the familiarity, as they came a little closer.

“Names Jazz, this here’s my spark Prowler,” “—Just Prowl,” the black and gold mech cut in, “that there’s Bulkhead best space bridge tech in all cybertron, Ratchet the best medic in Cybertron, thee Optimus Prime, the twins Jetfire and Jetstorm and the loveable aft Sentinel.”

“Thats Sentinel Prime, captain of this pitiful crew and ship to you lieutenant Jazz.”

Bee could think of plenty of ways to make Sentinels offlining look like an accident but he couldn’t chance it with Ratchet here. That mech would find it and he’d be screwed.

“Where am I and why am I here?”

“We’re heading to a comrade planet and we were told to bring you along because high command couldn’t chance the cons coming after you.”

“What? Coming after me?”

What they took as fear was really Bee hurt that he couldn’t have left sooner.

“Seems some dangerous cons were skulking around to bring you back kid,” Ratchet answered for the group.

“Yeah, a real dangerous group lead by a femme named Strika,” Bulkhead spoke nervously.

“We agreed it best to bring you for your safety and we’re glad we did. An extremely dangerous mech managed to get through some of our best elite guards. He was almost…point is..young one, we’re glad we got to you and left on time.”

Optimus spoke to him in a tone that would be comforting if thats what his situation required. But as it stands he didn’t need their comfort, he needed freedom to return home and the knowledge he was so close yet ripped from it while recharging left him feeling a piece of his spark tear.

“What..what was their designation?”

They looked nervous to say but one spoke up.

“A triple changer by the name Blitzwing tore his way through. He was adamant about getting to you. He wouldn’t stop following us until we jumped through the space bridge. After that received word he was erratic before leaving.”

Bee couldn’t stop himself from dropping to the floor boards staring at nothing.

Blitzwing…

Blitzwing came for him..

He ignored his carriers embarrassing rejections of never being allowed near their sparkling.

He went out on his own to find him.

Blitzwing.

The one mech who always made him laugh and left his favorite flowers on his berth cushion every week.

The same mech who made him helm crystals by servo.

The same crystals he’d kept tucked away in his locked subspace for fear of them being taken or broken.

Blitzwing..Blitzwing came looking for him and only left because he had to.

He still felt for Bee.

And now he may never get to see the mech again.

“Blitz…”

The other’s took his response as fear but his spark cried out for the only one he wanted.

As they tried to get through him, his resolve solidified further.

He would get home.

-

[hearts-4-vicky]

can you do quarterback minji x shy cheerleader reader? i literally just thought of this and i think it’s adorable

ty baby<3

warnings: kissing, fluff, swearing…, minji is cringe…(shes a loser to me) kinda short😭and um thats it😜

i only know a few things abt football so 🫠

(not proofread…)

The championship football game was already in its fourth quarter, with 50 seconds on the clock. To say Minji was stressed was a HUGE understatement, being the quarterback was cool and all😵‍💫 but when her team’s losing by 3 points its gonna get to her🥺The pressure was getting wayy too much for her since the school has been winning for 9 consecutive years. If they lose, not only will she be failing her school and her teammates, but also you🥺🥺🥺You were the reason she started playing football in the first place, her good luck charm, her cheerleader 🎀 Co-Captain and one of the flyers (someone thrown and lifted in stunts) in the schools cheer squad, y/n l/n (basic asf but shit thats the only option 😭)

Calling a timeout was the best option, all they needed was one touchdown and boom, win😝 though its gonna be harder since their best wide receiver, Yunjin, had suffered a bad shoulder injury just a few minutes before (idk who to put on this team😭) Minji had no game plan since it all relied on Yunjin’s speed and agility, she needed to think of something😵‍💫 Getting in a circle with her team, she speaks up “Okay guys! Just one more push and we win the whole thing right?” Minji flashes a grin, trying to be optimistic “how are we gonna score? Yunjins out and Yujin can barely run without staring at the cheer captain.. Look! She has heart eyes right now!” Haewon was right, Yujin wasn’t even listening to the team but staring at Wonyoung🥺(i love them) Minji noticed you were there too, talking with wony, laughing at something she said🎀 She unconsciously smiles at you, your smile brought light to the dark skies of the night and your laughter made her feel warm🥺 “Fuck.. I forgot you’re both down bad…” Ryujin mentions, the whole team starting to tease those two😭”Alright alright! Yujin, lets do this for our girlfriends… Everyone make sure no one is guarding her!” “Gotchu bro, but I think we need your pretty girlfriends to cheer us on real quickkk” Yuna pokes both Minji and Yujin🎀 “Suck my- “LETS GO BEARS!” (idk man😭) You and Minji make eye contact, “You got this” is what she reads from your lips. A fire lit in her heart as she saw you throw her a kiss, she’s ready for the game.

“HUT HUT! HIKE!” Minji scans the field for Yujin, seeing her in the open, she throws it to her. Caught it. Yujin sprints with everything she had as both teams were after her. One of the opposing team members came out of no where, making Yujin trip. Minji winces at it, must’ve hurt bad. She only thinks of one think,

We fucked it up. We lost.

“HOLY SHIT I DID IT?!” Yujin’s piercing shout got the attention of everyone, she got the ball past the goal line🙏

The stadium erupted into cheers as people started running to the field to celebrate😍😍😍 You full on SPRINT to see your girlfriend, pushing everyone out of the way (r u the football player now or what😭🙏)

Smiling brightly as you spot each other. Minji throws her helmet to the floor to catch you😵‍💫

“YOU WERE SO GOOD OUT THERE BABY!!!” You said as you jumped into Minjis open arms, kissing her face between every word🥺(me when) “I’m all sweaty babe! hol-“”don’ttt care!” Minji stifles a snort as you pepper her face so more, “couldn’t have done it without you, my sunshine” accepting your soft lips against every inch of her face while spinning you around had you both in your own world🥺🥺🥺 Both of you were giggling like teens in love (duh) as your lipstick stains her still sweaty face😛 you guys are taken back to reality as the school journalists come to interview you guys “Who would like to thank for this win Kim Minji?” the camera pans to you guys, still in her arms as she replies,

“My gorgeous girl right here!!”

you hide your face in her neck, blushing at her words

“And those marks on your face?”

“M-minji wait-“

“Also from this gorgeous girl!”

She’s never seen your face as red as it was before😭

with annyeongz

“but I scored the touchdown…”

“Let them have their moment love”

ive been wantin to write fluff again omg 🙏🙏

im sorry i havent been doing many requests lately, ive gotten a bit busier than usual😭 I need to get my grades up or else im out☹️Ive only been writin for school this week im so sorry if this isnt that good😭😭😭

Im really sorry my loves❤️ Stay safe and love you guys!!

-Vicky💋

[sailorgoon13]

Lorenzo Berkshire

Basics:

Full Name: Lorenzo Berkshire

Nickname: Enzo

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 10 June, 1980

Heritage: English, Portuguese

Blood Status: Pure Blood

Wand: Mahogany, Dragon Heartstring, 11 1/2", Stiff

Appearance:

Hair Color: Chestnut brown

Eye Color: Brown

Skin Tone: Olive undertones

Height: 5'11"

Body Type: Lean and muscular, with defined muscles in his arms, legs, and abdomen.

Style: Sophistication, elegance, and a hint of edgy flair. Favors fitted pants paired with tailored button-down shirts. For formal events, he gravitates toward sleek suits in rich fabrics like velvet or silk, often in deep, bold colors that command attention. Loves his accessories like a bold watch or thin gold chain necklaces.

Features: Jawline, Intense gaze, Well Groomed appearance, Confidence, Style

Personality:

Traits: Funny, Charming, Competitive, Loyal, Complex

Likes: Fashion, Socializing, Intellectual Challenges

Dislikes: Incompetence, Losing, Close mindedness, Disrespect

Hobbies: Quidditch, Dueling, Drawing

Fears: Failure, Mediocrity, Rejection

Family and Friends:

Father: Mr. Berkshire

A shrewd businessman who oversees the family's investments and enterprises.

Values hard work, ambition, and determination

A dynamic and adventurous wizard

Mother: Mrs. Berkshire

Comes from an old English wizarding family known for their wealth and influence.

A socialite who is actively involved in wizarding society

Down-to-earth and compassionate. Values kindness, integrity, and loyalty

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, Mattheo Riddle

Magic:

Special Abilities: Exceptional flyer

Boggart: His friends turning to the Darker side

Patronus: Falcon

Polyjuice: Rich golden hues. Would smell like expensive cologne and freshly-cut citrus. The taste would start with a sweetness like ripe figs or dates, followed by a warm, spicy kick of mulled wine or aged oak. The after taste would be like sipping fine brandy.

Amortentia: Cologne, Subtle notes of wet grass from the Quidditch pitch, red wine

Backstory:

Lorenzo Berkshire was born into a world of wealth, privilege, and magic. His parents were prominent figures in the wizarding community, known for their influence, intellect, and refined taste. From a young age, Lorenzo was immersed in a world of luxury and sophistication, surrounded by the finest things money could buy.

Growing up, Lorenzo was groomed for success from the moment he could walk. His parents instilled in him the values of ambition, determination, and excellence, encouraging him to pursue his dreams with unwavering confidence and tenacity.

As he entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Enzo quickly established himself as a formidable presence among his peers. He excelled academically, earning top marks in his classes, while also demonstrating exceptional skill and agility on the Quidditch pitch as a Seeker for the Slytherin team.

Outside of academics and Quidditch, Lorenzo's magnetic charm and charismatic personality made him a natural leader among his classmates. He effortlessly navigated the complexities of social dynamics, forging alliances and friendships with ease, while also earning the respect and admiration of those around him.

He also had a penchant for romance, enjoying the thrill of courtship and showering his romantic interests with attention and affection. He loved taking girls out on extravagant dates, wooing them with grand gestures and heartfelt compliments. However, despite his best intentions, his relationships often fizzled out quickly, leaving him feeling disillusioned and disheartened.

Academics:

Best Subject: Charms

Favorite Subject: DADA

Favorite Professor: Snape

Worst Subject: Arithmancy

Least Favorite Subject: Transfiguration

Least Favorite Professor: Trelawny

Student Life:

Always eager to learn and expand his magical knowledge.

Quidditch is not just a sport for Enzo; it's a passion and a way of life, and he pours his heart and soul into every match

A social butterfly

Well-liked and respected by his peers, known for his magnetic charm, quick wit, and kindness

The nicest asshole you'd ever meet

Grapples with his own insecurities and fears like any teenager

Template: @hazyange1s

[listenupbub]

Logan, stood at the entrance of the sumo arena, his eyes scanning the bustling crowd. He had been in Japan for weeks, trying to lay low and keep his healing factor in check. But money was running low, and he needed a way to earn some yen. That's when he saw the flyer: "Sumo Tournament - 100,000 yen prize for the winner!"

Logan smirked, thinking his enhanced strength and agility would give him an edge in the ring. He approached the tournament organizer, a stout man with a thick beard, and said, "I'm here to enter the sumo tournament."

The organizer raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Logan's physique. "Well, you're certainly...unconventional. But we could use a foreigner to spice up the tournament. You're in!"

Logan grinned, ready to take on the sumo world and earn some cash.

@themassmaster

[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! 🥰

[menagerieofmagic]

Fae Fennec

Fae Fennec

Tiny fey, neutral good

Armor Class: 13

Hit Points: 10 (3d4 + 3)

Speed: 20 ft., fly 40 ft.

STR: 3 (-4)

DEX: 17 (+3)

CON: 12 (+1)

INT: 14 (+2)

WIS: 15 (+2)

CHA: 16 (+3)

Skills: Perception +4, Stealth +5

Senses: darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 14

Languages: Sylvan, Common

Challenge: 1/2 (100 XP)

Abilities:

Innate Spellcasting. The Fae Fennec's innate spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 13). It can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components:

At will: druidcraft, minor illusion

3/day each: faerie fire, healing word

Agile Flyer. The Fae Fennec doesn't provoke opportunity attacks when it flies out of an enemy's reach.

Actions:

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1 piercing damage.

Dust Sprinkle (Recharge 4–6). The Fae Fennec flutters its wings rapidly, releasing a cloud of magical dust in a 10-foot radius around itself. Each creature in the area must succeed on a DC 12 Wisdom saving throw or become charmed for 1 minute. A charmed target regards the Fae Fennec as a friendly acquaintance. The effect ends if the Fae Fennec or its companions do anything harmful to the charmed creature. The creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, with disadvantage if the Fae Fennec is within line of sight, ending the effect on itself on a success.

Reactions:

Fey Escape. When the Fae Fennec takes damage, it can use its reaction to turn invisible and fly up to its speed without provoking opportunity attacks. The invisibility lasts until the end of its next turn or until the Fae Fennec attacks, casts a spell, or deals damage.

[mistyresolve]

| Incident Report - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 4.5K

Summary - The reader is the pilot of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killer in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. Each time she is called to a mission with them she immediately thinks of one person, Ghost. And she’s not the only one finding it hard to focus on the mission when working with the other. So when she devises a plan to finally get what they both desperately need, Ghost happily obliges her.  

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY,  swearing, SoftDom, slight switch, praise, fingering, pussy licking? unprotected sex, creampie 

A/N - not to be nerdy but the apache helicopter to hella fuckin cool

Masterlist  ❤︎  RTB (Part two)

The first time you joined Task Force 141 on a mission was a year ago, having been asked to be their aerial support. Unlike the regular formal introduction that happened where you would meet your new team and mission in a conference room, you had been introduced on the tarmac. You were just doing the final safety checks with the engineer when the 141 arrived. 

You thanked your engineer before leaving to meet them. The only one you knew from previous collaborations was Captain Price. And it was Price who introduced you to everyone else. You tucked your helmet under your arm, catching it on the curve of your hip so you could have a free hand to shake with. 

“Nice to see you again, Stitch,” He dipped his chin at you, before sweeping a hand at the pack of men behind him. 

“Always a pleasure,” you gave him an easy smile. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, this is the 141,” he pointed to the first individual, “Soap”, his grasp was firm and as you shook his hand, and gave each other a curt nod. Then Price moved the next, “Gaz,” you did the same with him, he offered you a sweet smile and you couldn’t help a matching one from growing on your own face. The last soldier was more stoic than the rest, harder to read, “and Ghost. This isn’t everyone but it’s who will be on today's mission.” 

When you met Ghost eyes you knew immediately he was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. You were thankful he was on your side. Thankful that you’d never have to come toe to toe with him. You took note of the fact that his eyes lingered on you too. Dark eyes roamed over you. Not in a heated lewd sense, but like a calculating predator. He was taking note of weaknesses and blind spots already. You wanted to wave a little white flag at him, marking yourself as an ally. 

Just then your co-flyer, having previously focused on the manifests, joined in on the pleasantries. 

“This is Dutch,” you knocked your shoulder against his, “The best gunner and partner a pilot could ask for.”   

“How long have you guys been flying?” Gaz inquired, cocking his head to the side. 

“Three years with this girl,” you threw a thumb over your shoulder to the aircraft behind you. It was an apache helicopter, one of the most advanced technologies all packed behind the painted green casing. The most exciting piece of equipment is the integrated helmet display, allowing either the pilot or gunner to slave the live footage of the chain gun to the helmet. It tracked an individual's head movement to provide an even more accurate aim. 

The apache was one of the most dangerous helicopters in the sky and you got to pilot it. You almost cried when you got your placement after flight school. You did cry after your first flight. 

Gaz let out a low whistle, “Is she treating you well?” 

You nod, “As long as I give her proper aftercare.” 

That first mission went smoothly, really smoothly. 

The Apache was built on the premise of being agile and lethal, and with you and Dutch inside the cockpit, the aircraft was able to reach its full potential. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t show off for them just a little. Show them who you acquired your callsign, Stitch. Bobbing and weaving around bullets and missiles. Threading between the terrain. Dutch provided firepower with unmatched aim. Dutch hammered the enemy with chain gun rounds, rockets, and HELLFIRE missiles. You’d also be lying if you said the elated cheering of the 141 over the radio didn’t boost your ego. 

You had provided them with as much support as you could be having to RTB for fuel. 

Every mission was no different from the first. All of them a success. And you couldn’t help the exciting you that hopped around in your chest every time you got assigned to the 141. 

One of the reasons was that you had grown a certain affinity for one of the members.  

Today’s mission was a little different. It started off with you being called to one of the conference rooms with Dutch right at your side. When you entered the room and found out who you were meeting, you grinned.

“Hello, boys,”  you immediately started searching the room for one person in particular, finding him seated at one of the tables. He had one arm resting on the table in front of him, and his head resting on his other fist. His eyes were already on you, slowly racking down your body. The heat behind his eyes made you feel good, made you want to ravish him right then and there. 

The tension was there from the very beginning, and it only grew every time you saw him next. You could feel it swell and surge between you guys, and you were damn sure he could too. Neither of you had acted on it though. Mostly because of the conflict of interest. Partly because the chase was fun.  

His gaze met yours, heavy-lidded with filthy vehemence.  

Some flighty and skittish part of you taking the reins and you had to look somewhere else. Anywhere else. You landed on the table he was sitting at, littered with maps, pictures, and documents. You slapped down on that piece of yourself, cursing at it. He made you nervous and loathed him for it. No man has ever made you nervous.  

“What’s on the itinerary for today?” your voice came out a little higher than it usually did. You shifted a document over to get a better look at the map. Price ran through the plan, briefing you and Dutch on your roles.   

The flight started off as expected, being called into action when the 141 had difficulties shaking the enemy and were in a vehicle chase. Their ammo was running low and one of them was shot. The wound wasn’t mortal but apparently, he was hurtin’.  

They were speeding down a desolate street of a deserted city when you reached them. You maneuvered your heli to hover behind a highrise, waiting until the enemy forces sped around the corner at the end of the street. When finally they did you rolled over into the middle of the street, hovering high in the air. Dutch fired away, taking out the forefront. 

“Fuck yeah!” Soap yelled into the radio, and you could see him shoot a fist out the window of one of their trucks.  

You shifted, barreling forward, adding pressure. This allowed Dutch to make a run with the chain gun as you flew overhead. You didn’t like the position but the highrise buildings on either side of the streets gave you no choice. 

“Let me know when you guys see smoke!” you had to yell over the sound of Dutch’s bombardment and strafe. You dipped between two buildings and met the reflection of the apache in the windows. You gave Dutch a quick salute in said reflection to which he returned with his own, before repositioning to enter the battle further back. More space meant more time for reaction. You would support them for as long as you could, they just needed to get out of the intended location or when they lose the tail. Or when you get rid of them. 

“Smoke!” Ghost shouted, warning us of the heat-seeking missile. 

“Flares!” you counter. Inverting the aircraft you released flares. The maneuver was the only way to get them out and in front of you in time to counter the MPADS missiles. You swore, “That was too fucking close.” 

Even Dutch seemed a little uneasy about it. You rightened yourselves, wanting to gain distance and height. 

“Switching to helmet display,” you announced, joining Dutch in the shooting. The 141 raced underneath you, and you applied as much cover as you could manage before needing to refocus on piloting. Four blocks away were reinforcements for them. You could manage it, Dutch could manage it. 

“RPG!” 

You merely had to dodge these ones, leaning left then right as they blew past you. 

Three blocks. 

Two blocks. 

Dutch signalled to you that he was out of HELLFIRE, and Missiles, “I got 50 rounds left in the chain gun,” he remarked, his voice calm and collected. One of the reasons you loved him as your gunman.     

“We’re RTB, we’ve given you guys all we could,” I hailed down to the ground, pulling away. 

“Thanks once again, CADAVER,” Price replied, calling you guys by your aircraft callsign, “See you two back home.” 

“We’ll have dinner ready and on the table for you guys,” you said, already heading back.

“Sunday roast?” Soap joined in.

“It’s Thursday, Mate,” Ghost answered for us dryly. You couldn’t help but smile at the familiar exchange.  

They were back on base an hour after you guys, and we met up for a quick and dirty debrief before being let off for dinner. You had purposefully chosen the seat beside Ghost during the debrief. He had also purposefully knocked his knee against yours underneath the table. The fleeting and seemingly innocent touch made you throw your other leg over the other and squeeze your thighs together. 

Like always you dreaded the inevitable paperwork that you had to complete and hand in tomorrow. You had just finished it when an idea formed in your wicked thoughts. 

With your action report in hand, you knocked on his door, plastering an innocent look on your face before opening the door. An expression of pleased confusion passed through his dark eyes, darker still when they dilated at the sight of you. He was still in his gear, only he was missing his weapons. You had strategically worn easy-to-remove clothes. An oversized sweater you’d stolen from the locker room(and nothing underneath you might add), and plain black leggings.   

You waved the piece of paper in front of him, “I thought it would be a good idea to compare notes.” 

You catch the ghost of a smile in his eyes, and he scanned the hallway before stepping aside to let you in, “Brilliant idea,” he shut the door behind him. 

It was your first in his barracks, and if you hadn’t known any better you would have assumed the room was vacant. Apart from the paper and folders on the desk, the rest of the observable room was pristine. 

Before answering the door he was probably working on the same report as you were. His writing was neat and tidy, a mixture between print and cursive. You examine the papers with a hum. He stayed a step back, he wanted to let you make the invitation before closing in. 

“I hope you’re not gossiping about me in here,” you jest as you drag a finger down the page. 

“Never,” he said, his voice low and serious, “I only ever say the most wonderful things about you.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, your loose hair falling over your shoulder, “Like what?” You dared a glance back at him, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. There was the invitation he was looking for. 

“How the team always feels safest when we have the infamous CADAVER watching over us. How professional and talented you are,” the emphasis he put on “professional”, wasn’t mocking, but a challenge. A disguised question. 

Are you sure? 

You bit down on your lip, “Mhm.”

He took a step closer, reaching to take your report from your hand and placing it on the desk in front of you. His other hand comes to plant itself on the wood beside your hip. You could smell him, like smoke and rain. 

“How I’m finding it harder and harder to work alongside you,” you could feel his chest against your back. The bulletproof vest getting in the way of feeling the muscle and heat you knew to lay just beneath. 

“Because all I think about is how good I could make you feel,” he reached his free hand around your hips, pulling you back into him, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your breath caught and you placed one hand on the desk for support, your other one reaching for his around your waist. Your fingers disappeared under his sleeve to wrap around his wrist. You don’t know why but there was a fleeting shock when you met warm skin. Maybe you were half expecting him to be an actual ghost, with cold lifeless skin.  

“The sounds you’d make for me,” oh, he was arrogant, but it didn’t bother you one bit. No, his confidence and conviction made you hot, and your breaths came out in bursts. He drew you closer so you could feel his own response to the proximity, “How you’d crawl back to me and beg for more.” 

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head and you leaned your head against his shoulder, “Ohmygod,” it came out more slurred than you had anticipated. You reached up to his masked face, tugging at it slightly, “Kiss me please, Ghost.”

“Go on,” he instructed.

“Tell me when,” you breathed as you twisted to pull up the mask, stopping at the bridge of his nose when he said. He let you take him in, the strong curve of his jaw, his full lips, and the…light spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks. You traced his jaw, fingers dancing across his skin.  Lingering on the light scar above his lip. 

“You’re beautiful,” it was barely a whisper, barely audible. But it was enough for him. His hand shot from the desk, wrapping around your jaw before crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was erratic and deprived. After a year of circling each other and building up the frustration and tension, it felt like this was it was your time kissing anyone. The sensation of his mouth on yours made you burn. His tongue swept the line of yours, to which you wantonly open for him. He delved in, tongue running along the roof of your mouth, your tongue. The action made you well aware of the fact that if he got between your legs he’d make you scream with pleasure. You moaned, and he caught the sound, sucking your lip, and teeth biting down. He trailed wet, openmouthed kisses across your cheek, down your jaw, and sucked bruises into the supple skin of your neck. You whimpered, and it must have been a little too loud because a hand came to cover your mouth. 

“Unless you want to fill out an incident report tonight too, I suggest you use your inside voice,” he brought his mouth to your ear, his own pants fanning across your skin. You tugged at his vest, asking him to remove it. He removed his hand, “Say pretty please.” 

“Please, Ghost,” you tugged again, “I need to feel you,” Lord knows you’ve already waited long enough.  

He removed himself from you to unsnap it from his body with trained military ease, next was the black canvas jacket. The fabric of the black dry fit underneath was pulled tighter across his shoulders and chest. You were going to eat him alive. You were going to let him ruin you. You turned to face him fully and you hardly got the chance to reach out to him before he was over you again. His hands drove into your hair, around the back of your neck. Your hands ran across his chest, feeling hard muscle, the heat of him searing your palms. You travelled lower, untucking the shirt from his pants to gain access to his skin. Nails dug into his abdomen, leaving behind red lines. He hissed at the delicious pain.

Before you could register it, he was lifting you onto the desk and standing between your legs. He tugged you until you were flush with him, his hands securing you to him. You could feel his hard cock through the pants as it pressed into your stomach. You were in trouble. He was going to rip you apart. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t put it in until I have you nice and ready,” he must have felt you tense at the realization. You met his gaze, then started to roll your hips against him. His eyes widened before he slammed them shut and faced the ceiling. He didn’t let you get any further though. His hand shot to your chest, pushing you back until you were laying on your back. His nimble finger pushes your sweater up and pulls your pants down to your ankles. 

“Jesus fuck,” he croaked when he was met with your bare cunt. He pushed either leg to the side so he could have an interrupted view. His fingers grazed over you, and you jerked your hips up trying to meet his touch. 

“Don’t tease me,” you mewl at him, half tempted to relieve the ache yourself. 

All he could do was shake his head, eyes fixated on your arousal as it dripped down onto his desk. This time his fingers slide into your folds, coming to a halt at your clit. He made slow circles with his thumb. You gasped and had to bring the sleeve of your sweater to your mouth to bite so that you didn’t get too loud. He moved down and slid in two fingers, his brows furrowing in bliss as you greedily took him in. Your breasts tighten and you reach under your sweater to cup one and squeeze. His attention flicked to the activity and shoved the sweater higher so he could watch. The cold air was jarring, and your nipples hardened from both the temperature and arousal. 

Then he pulled his fingers back a couple of inches before slowly guiding them back in. He switched between watching your face morph with ecstasy and your pussy, enthralled with both but not sure which one to choose. He found a slow, teasing pace. One that was going to drive you to tears if he kept it up. 

“Faster,” you choked, trying to grind yourself on his hand but he stopped you with a stern grip on your hip. Yet he did as you asked, picking up speed and angling his hand so he could reach just a little deeper, and curving his fingers inside you. You couldn’t contain the moans anymore, and he seemed to have forgotten about the need to stay quiet. You started to shake as you neared your climax. You caught his expression, his lips parted and eyes glassy, you didn’t think he’d remember his name if you called to him. Your cunt tightened just as you started to cum. 

He removed his fingers.  

And dropped to his knees. 

He looked up at you, his pupils were completely blown, and placed your thighs on either shoulder and brought his mouth to you. You sobbed, frustrated with the stolen orgasm and the new stimulation. You placed your hands on the back of his head and pushed him further in. His tongue was way better than his fingers, and when he dragged it up the length of your length you thanked him. He sucked and licked and tasted you. The filthy wet sounds as he ate you out filled the room. You were so sure that if someone pressed their ear to his door they’d be able to hear it too. 

This time when you neared your orgasm you held him there, making sure he wasn’t going to pull away again. He groaned into you, and it was at just the right moment that the vibrations of it sent you spiralling. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant, tears pricking at your eyes. Your body went taut before it loosened. He stayed to lap you up. Placing chaste kissing on your clit. When he rose, he only wiped at the bottom of his chin to get rid of the cum dripping there so he could lick the rest of it from his lips. He leaned down to kiss you, allowing you a taste for yourself. 

You were going to ignite, and the only thing keeping you from doing so was digging your nails into his back. 

“Do you want more?” He asked, giving you an out should you have changed your mind. The thought of him going unrelieved after what he just did to you was absurd. You wanted him again and again and again. 

“I want all of you.”

He pulled away only to remove his shirt and undo his pants. His cock was hard, and you could see it pulse. He wrapped a hand around the middle, his thumb gliding over the head. 

“I’m on the pill. And Im clean,” you babbled. You wanted to feel him, without any barriers. 

“Are you sure?” he eyed you, “I have-”

“Yes.”

He didn’t waste any more time. He tapped the head of his cock against you, sliding his length into your folds, collecting the slick there. He rocked back and forth, holding himself against you with a thumb, “Shit.”  

“Fuck me. As hard as you need to,” he said before picking you up and sitting back into the chair behind him with you straddling his lap. He rested his hands on either hip; not to control or take charge but just because he wanted to touch you. Feel you in his arms. 

You swallowed as you guided him in, pausing at the head to adjust. Relax. If he hadn’t taken the time to warm you up, you would have shot right off him. The slight burn and stretch as you sank down onto him forced a cross between a squeak and a moan. You wished you could have captured his reaction on tape. His breath quivered, and he leaned his forehead on your shoulder. The both of you had thin coats of sweat on your hot, sensitive skin. Everywhere he touched you it felt like he brought with him flashes of lightning. 

“Just like that,” he grounded, tilting to the side to get a better look at where you connected. When you made the first rise and plunged back onto him, he nearly whimpered. You pulled back slightly, gauging his appearance before continuing. 

“I’m good,” he half laughed before tilting his head back and exposing his throat to you, “You’re just bloody tight.” 

“Well, you’re big,” you retorted, lifting yourself up and back down. 

“Mmm,” he shot you a conceited smile. 

So, he liked the occasional praise.   

You braced your arms on his shoulders, fingers dipping under his mask so you could grip at his hair underneath. You dragged a tongue up the column of this throat, the salt taste of sweat, and nipped at his jaw, “And so fucking hard.” 

His hips jerked up, meeting you on your descent. Hard. Lightening shot up your spin, and stars blocked your vision. Your pace picked up, chasing that pleasure. Riding him like it was the only thing keeping you alive. You racked your nails down the front of his chest, catching on his dog tags. Little red lines appeared. The desire to carve your name into his chest surfaced. You settled for your initials. 

He hissed at the mixture of pain and pleasure. His cock twitched inside of you, “Atta girl, mark me as yours.”

You rocked your hips against him, the muscles of his stomach providing extra stimulation against your clit. It left a trail of slickness and you would make damn sure licked him clean after. 

His groans turned into hot desperate whimpers, and his grip forced himself up and impossibly deeper. You squeezed around him.

“Good-” he choked, pulling you in to rest his forehead on yours, “Cum for me, baby.”

You did as you were told, your body convulsing and shuddering. You could feel it drip out of and onto him. 

He followed, fast and hard. You could feel him pulsating as his seed painted your walls white. It was hot and… a lot. He was leaking out of you and he was still inside you. 

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Catching your breath. Collecting your mind. 

“You think,” you paused, “you think they heard?” you asked, his team wasn’t far. They were either in their own room or congregated in the common area. Which was just down the hall. 

He pulled back, eyes searching your face, “Umm, yeah. You’re loud.” 

You faked an insulted gasp, “You’re loud.”

“No’m not,” he was. He wasn’t the silent type. You liked that. Liked it when your partners were vocal. 

“Liar,” you lifted yourself off him, cum dripping out as you did so. 

His chest seemed to puff out at the slight, pleased with his work. 

“You think they’ll see me?” you tightened your pussy, to keep it from leaking onto his floor. You pointed to the clothes he’d tossed onto his bed and he tossed you your shirt and pants. 

“They won’t say anything. There’s a shower in the bathroom,” he offered, you were just going to go back to your room and shower there, but it was a little risky. If the room smelt like sex, you did too. He followed you into the bathroom, flicking on the light, “Next time bring panties so you can walk around with my cum inside you,” he murmured as he watched. He pulled his mask back down over his face. At some point, he had pulled on some sweatpants. 

“You’re dirty,” you said playfully, locking eyes with him in the reflection. 

“Or better yet, we can fuck in your room so you won’t have to sneak back out.”

“You want to do the sneaking next time?” you tilted your head back to look up at him.

His eyes narrowed, “I’m really good at the sneaking.”

Because of his mask he wasn’t able to join in on the shower. But he did bend you over his backroom sink, holding your hands behind your back with one hand, and the other hand wrapped around your neck so he could make sure you watched as he fucked you from behind in the mirror. 

It was an hour before curfew when you finally slipped out of his room. He almost didn’t let you, tried pulling you back in. When you stepped into the common rooms, Gaz, and Soap pretended to be really interested in the walls, carpet, and couch. Price was nowhere to be seen. 

“The captain left a couple hours ago,” Gaz didn’t even look in your direction. 

He left a couple hours ago because that's when it all started and if he couldn’t hear anything he didn’t know anything. If he didn’t know anything he couldn’t get mad at anything. 

“Thank you,” you shoot back before very quickly exiting their barracks. 

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

A/N - we love a vocal king

[oshlet]

'Tresspasser' Gunship, workhorse of the System-11 rebels. A good deal smaller than the scorpion, but slower and less agile. These are old school rotary wings, dug out from colonial caches or sold on the cheap by spacer black marketeers. The designs predates ubiquitous pd lasers on vehicles, so the rebels had to jury rig a bulky unit on the right side, and an accompanying cooling system on the left. The modifications make handling awful, but it beats getting nailed by smart-munitions.

The 20mm cannon on the bottom is only really effective at shooting soft targets and unarmoured vehicles, which the laser can also pull double duty on. Later in the conflict, they ended up being filled with choke rounds instead to break up sightlines and blind targets in preperation for rocket strikes.

Although its not a great flyer, the excellent visibility afforded by the bubble canopy and roomy interior means that while its not a beloved machine by pilots, its certainly not hated. Mechanics love the thing, though - colonial equipment is famously rugged and easy to work on (although the laser mount is a bit more of a pain to fix).

[lobotoland]

Scorching Flame ! (Named after The Scorching)

Here’s some info about him.

Scorching was born 200 AS, making him 20 in the current time of the story. He has no home, he’s always traveling the world. He’s in no position to have a job. Not to be a shopkeeper, soldier, nothing. He’s a SkyWing but shows characteristics of other tribes, as most dragons do in the year 220 AS. Scorching Flame has no accessories, as they’d all melt/burn off if he tried. Scorching is excellent with directions. He’s gifted in directing and exploring the continent of Pyrrhia, adoring each place he discovers. With his entire life in his talons, he has spent all of it exploring and searching.

Maybe searching for his own family.

Scorching is also naturally gifted with flying as he is a SkyWing. But with so much practice and excelling every trick he knows; with practicing his stamina, he may be considered Pyrrhia’s most gifted flyer. He is dangerously swift and agile in the skies.

Compared to being in the skies, Scorching is awfully clumsy on land. Everything he touches and everything within 2 inches of his radius burns up into dry crisps of black ash. He has accidentally murdered a few dragons and dozens of little animals, cows, etc. by forgetting how awfully hot his scales are. He swears he didn’t mean to murder them. but in the back of his mind hes afraid that he did kind of mean it. Alongside his clumsiness, he is also illiterate. He has grown himself up and is lucky to even be able to speak. but he cannot read or write, do math, or count. Scorching also has a nasty temper at times and some anger issues.

a large weakness is his anger and managing it. he tends to lash out, and scares dragons away. his lethal touch is not to be messed with, so everybody stays away for extra measure.His clumsiness is also a weakness alongside not being able to read and write at all.

Scorching has the habit to slur his words as he has a fat long tong and jaggedy overgrown teeth. he also has a thick and mixed accent. as if every tribe across Pyrrhia had their accents mixed together. he picks his teeth a lot, and tends to have the body language of a clumsy cat.

Scorching as an egg was abandoned in a cave once the first signs of severe firescales began to show through a blue egg. thought to be a curse, he was left behind and hatched by himself, all alone.

he wondered about the forests and redwoods of the SkyWing mountains eating bugs, rocks, mud and any charred animal that he touched. eventually, he learned through spying on other families how to speak and pronounce some words. he then taught himself how to fly. and he began flying the territory before he memorized it, knowing it like the back of his talon.

Throughout growing up, an event that keeps him up at night was how he murdered a couple of dragons the first times he attempted to communicate with other dragons. ever since then he’s learned to keep a far distance. and so have others.

Scorching’s best accomplishment must be that he had visited every kingdom (except the Sky Kingdom) enough times to remember at least ten oral myths from each tribe. he is very proud of himself for trying to keep his anger in line, compared to his early days.he is also very proud of himself for teaching himself how to fly so well!

He has a secret suspicion that one of his parents might be a big deal. or maybe both. but he noticed he looks different from the pureblood SkyWings.

his best memories are of when he watched families with their young at a young age, feeling apart of their family at a distance. some others are seeing the joy on dragonets faces when they hear the myths and stories of their land, and watching festivals each tribe has and seeing how the culture varies so much. he also remembers flies in the skies fondly the closer he is to the sun. where the wind blows and he’s far above the clouds, smiling to the light as he feels the weight of stress and regret lift off his shoulders.

[tribbetherium]

The falcyons, once the dominant aerial predators of HP-02017 in the Therocene and Glaciocene, which preyed upon both grounded prey and other flyers, have seen a significant level of decline since the coming of the pterodents, some of which filled large, soaring scavenger, seagoer and migratory forager niches and thus gradually pushed the falcyons aside. Yet the falcyons, despite the competition, are doing quite well even in the Middle Temperocene, thanks to a fairly recent adaptive radiation at the Temperocene's dawn that allowed them to claim new niches and make a living in a changed world.

Some, such as the eastern Gestaltian triathler (Triathlopteryx gestaltis) have become generalists, taking advantage of any food source they can find. Triathlers, in particular, gained particular success thanks to being good runners, flyers, and swimmers all at the same time, allowing them to seek food in the sea, on the shore, or in the air, snatching up any small prey they can grab in their jaws in a wide variety of environments that reduces the pressure of competition. Hunting insects and wingles in the air, shrish and pescopods in the water, and small crustaceans and mollusks on the shore, triathlers such have many options and no shortage of available food should seasonal availabilities of one prey item come and go. Nesting in cliffside rookeries by the hundreds, even thousands, triathlers boast precocial young that can hunt on land within a few weeks, even while still under their parents' care, but still have to learn, through imitation and experience, the skills required for the air and sea.

Not all the falcyons, however, are as versatile, but are much more specialized in one specific medium. The swift airstrike (Velocipteramys aerovenatrix) is notable for its aerial prowess, able to dive-bomb its prey at incredible force and speed. Easily one of the fastest flyers, the airstrike specializes on hunting smaller flying ratbats, knocking them from the sky with such power that they are instantly stunned or killed upon impact, which the airstrike then snatches up midair. They live and hunt in mated pairs, with the female the larger of the two, as the smaller male can take on smaller but more-agile aerial prey and thus reduce competition with his mate during the breeding season, when she needs far more calories than he does.

On the other hand, the ground pterrier (Terranyctocyon ambulus) is, conversely, a far more terrestrial species. While a perfectly capable flier, it instead greatly prefers to hunt on the ground, or in trees, chasing down squizzels, furbils, duskmice and small rattiles in grounded pursuit, before pouncing upon them to pin them with its wing-claws and dispatch them with a bite. Ground pterriers rarely take wing unless threatened or provoked, or when traveling longer distances to find new hunting grounds, mostly preferring to roam on foot while foraging.

While fierce acrobats in the air, falcyons, like many ratbats, are more vulnerable on the ground, and thus the reason even the more ground-dwelling ones are still capable at flight. They are at their most exposed during the time when they are nesting: as pterriers and their relatives build their nests on the ground in hidden dens concealed by overlying plants, where their young, not flighted until they are several months old, remain. One of the pterrier's relatives, the wounded bloodwing (Erythropteryx pseudosanguis), has developed a peculiar strategy to protect its young: females possess bright red marks on the dorsal surface of their wings, hidden when folded and walking. If a predator is in the vicinity of the nest, however, the mother bloodwing will make a display where she pretends to be injured, flashing the red mark on her wing and making distressed sounded cries and limping motions to create the illusion of an easy prey. This is all a ruse, however, to lead the threat far away from the nest, and once she reaches a save distance she drops the act and flies off, leaving the confused enemy in the dust.

Among the largest and fiercest of the Temperocene falcyons, however, is the skewering harpshrike (Phobocynonyctus crucifigere), with a wingspan of up to five-and-a-half feet. Native to arid desert or semidesert regions of South Ecatoria, this unique species is remarkable for being a larger-scale predator able to tackle small hamtelopes, podotheres and zingos on occasion, which it then stores away in a grisly fashion: a larder of thorny trees, with the impaled half-eaten, dried carcasses of small animals hanging from their branches. But perhaps its most unusual feature is its rather canine-like head bearing facial markings that, by coincidental convergence, came to eerily resemble those of the sapient calliducyons: earning the harpshrike a place in their folklore as "person-headed flying monsters" notorious for occasionally snatching up unwary pups who stray too far from their parents.

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[witchofthesouls]

Pffft, so many bird and nature documentary puns and jokes happen on the Diego Garcia base because N.E.S.T. is an actual nest now.

It doesn't help that Seekers do have vocializations and behaviors that are similar to Earth's birds of prey and can be heard for miles.

(Area 51 can eat their collective ass because they get front row seats at Seeker aerial agility and finesse as Will and Sarah often do paired or solo flights above and around the base. Helps stabilize their new bond, a necessity for their health, and a territoriality thing. They can appreciate it without needing to take evasive maneuvers. As well as spotting the pair on the beach, all "fluffed up" to overlap their plating in a blanket-like state to maximize sun coverage between them.)

It was an entire ordeal when meeting and transferring the Seeker!Lennoxes. Sarah literally hunkered upon the tallest structure that was capable of withstanding her weight to hiss at a bunker because she sensed "unknown signatures," aka Autobots in their alt-modes getting R&R.

And once Annabelle hits her milestones, she's a very chatter sparkling. Something between a tea kettle, old dial-up, and birdsong. Proper wings are still coming in, so the 'nubs' are lengthening with nodes sprouting. Something endearing to the Cybertronians because it's "Aww, look at the baby flight-frame!" But something more gross-cute/horror-adorable in humans because it looks like a dissected bat wing.

It doesn't help that Annabelle will get really, really good at scurry-hopping. The human personnel would have mandatory meetings and flyers on "safety precautions" and "cultural sensitivities" because she will attempt to cuddle into the return vehicles because it's warm and nibbles on stray equipment since she's feeling peckish or bored or likes the crunch of the bolt cutters or pipe wrench.