#cyras mother

[sideblogdotjpeg]

not to song post again but aryox + oliana. huh. what if.

[kindleaf]

who up thinking about mothership using specifically sol's formative memories of protecting albin to instill a primal urge to secure within him. who up thinking about how of all the memories used, callie and calder's were distinctly negative, while sol's was positive. who up thinking about that while callie's trigger memory was cyra making her feel weak and worthless, and calder's trigger memory was feeling small and useless in the arms of his mother, sol's was albin. back when he smiled more, back when he had light in him, back when he loved mothership and launchpad and being the boy wizard and frog pal just as much as sol. callie, don't you want to prove you're better than her, that maybe you needed her when your mother died, but not anymore? calder, don't you want to show them that just because you're smaller, doesn't mean you can't fight, doesn't mean you can't hold your own? and, sol? isn't this something you want to protect?

[midnightsun-if]

Can we have RO (relationship) reaction getting a note passed them saying

Do you like me?

Yes

Definitely

Absolutely

And see MC hiding behind something looking at them

It was a silly idea you had in the middle of Professor Locke's lecture-- one borne from an ideal mind as you had already prepared for the test thanks to your dorm-mates-- and it's not one that'd leave your mind. Not when you could see the cause of such an idea just a few seats away.

With lips pressed together, a feeble attempt at keeping your growing smile hidden, you rip a small section off the corner of your notes, briefly checking to make sure that Professor Locke was still none the wiser; not that you think he'd care, he was fairly laidback. Your mother on the other hand? If she somehow got wind of this? You weren't so certain of-- so it's better to be safe than sorry... When you're certain you're in the clear, you jot down a few words, trying your best not to chuckle at the absurdity of it, and lean towards your desk mate, dropping your voice to a conspirationally whisper. "Do you think you could send this over there, Willow?" You point towards the person you are directing her towards. "I'd really appreciate it."

Pale blue eyes flicker to where you've gestured, a small hum leaves her lips as she takes the scrap of paper without a word. Pale fingers enclose around it, her eyes taking on a darker blue hue for the briefest of moments as her magic ignites, before everything settles once more; her hand now being empty when she returns to taking notes once more. Something that causes a bright smile to finally break out across your lips.

Hiding yourself behind an old tome, you impatiently wait for the incoming response-- one you had no doubt was coming-- only peeking out every now-and-then to ensure that Willow hadn't accidentally sent it to the wrong person. That would definitely be embarrassing. When you're met with their gaze looking back at you, an innate response to jump out of your seat in surprise is just barely halted, which you're thankful for as not even a second later another shimmer of magic appears softly in front of you as a torn piece of paper lands before you-- a familiar script scrawled across it.

Koda:

[Absolutely! Do you want to watch a movie after this lecture? -- Koda <3]

Scarlett:

[I fear this may come as a surprise to you, my heart, but my feelings for you could never be encapsulated in such a trivial word. I adore and love you-- for you loved me when I didn't even love myself. -- Eternally Yours, Scarlett Voltaire]

Cyrus/Cyra:

[Is this some form of test, my flame? I believe I'm woefully unprepared if it is. To answer your question, however, I absolutely like you. -- C. Aurelia]

Quinn:

[I do actually. Quite a bit more than I ever thought I would. Something that seems to grow more and more as I spend time with you. -- Quinn]

Caden:

[You know that I do. You've brought warmth back into my life when I never thought it'd be a possibility again. -- Caden]

Sloane:

[Sometimes I wonder why I do when you send me notes like this after we've been dating for months now... But, yes... I do like you... Even if you make me question my sanity. -- Sloane]

Blake:

[I can show you how much I like you back at the dorm, if you'd like... ;) -- Blake]

Reginald/Regina:

[Yes! I absolutely like you! Definitely have never had any doubts about that. Do you like me? -- Reggie/Gina]

[areyoudreaminof]

The Day is Coming: Eris Week Day 2

It's Day 2 of @erisweekofficial! I really wanted to satisfy myself here and expand a bit more on Uncle Eris. His desire for a true family, the healing that has come with his young nieces, and his own reflection of his childhood. Just a short little treat. Enjoy!

Taking for granted This lifetime and what's up ahead

But the day is coming, the day is near The day is coming, the way is clear

My Morning Jacket-The Day is Coming

The boy sits with his new hounds, alone. 

The pups wriggle in his lap, around his feet. Slippery coats of smoke colored fur and pink paws. They whine and squeak as they crawl blindly across his lap and feet. He can only hold two or three at a time and their mother is exhausted, panting as she waits for more milk to come in. The boy makes sure to pet her too, to remind her she’s not alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uncle Eris, look! This one’s opening his eyes!” 

Eris turns to the little redheaded girl who’s gently holding a blueish gray pup in her fingers. His eldest niece is right, the pup's eyes are opening. Her brown eyes are lit up with excitement. The little golden haired girl on his lap gasps with wonder. His youngest niece hasn’t helped with the pups before, and Eris delights in it all. 

“It will take him a few days to make out shapes, but he can still recognize your smell and touch.” Eris tells his nieces. Cyra, the youngest, giggles as the pup sniffs and licks her fingers. The eldest, Mathilde, softly strokes the white splash of fur between the pups' eyes. 

“They’re so sweet,” Cyra whispers, “when do they start to play?” 

“In a few days, I’d wager,” Eris says with a smile, “You both will just have to stay until then, I think.” 

The girls squeal with delight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy sits alone amongst the trees. After his lessons with Father, his hands and back sting with emerging welts. So, he escapes to the oak groves where it is quiet. The wind does not hiss insults at him, only sighs softly. When he was younger, he and his mother would take long walks around the gardens, watching leaves fall. But since his lessons began he hardly sees his mother, his father and tutors now watch his every movement. So now, he inhales what little freedom he has left. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Me and Cricket are making a leaf maze!” Cyra chirps. Eris chuckles at the nicknames his brother gave to his nieces. The rest of their families use them, but Eris loves their names just as they are. 

“Is that so? Round or square?” 

“Square!” Mathilde says as she bounces over, “Me and Froggy can get more dead ends with a square. We’re going to have Mama and Papa do it when they come to get us too.” 

“Very good.” He kisses each of them on the nose, red with crisp autumn air. “Should I help?” 

“Yes!” his nieces giggle. Eris begins to design the maze with more leaves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy looks at the fire coming from his fingertips with terror. 

He had gotten angry at one of his brothers. They kicked him, broke a wooden post, then blamed him. He was sent to the racks for punishment and his father whipped him raw. Now, on the carpet of his room, the flames lick his skin. They do not hurt, but he can feel it. He feels the rage and anger. He feels the unrelenting fear in his blood as the fire crackles. Will his father beat him for this too? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eris opens Cyra’s small hand beneath his. Her dark golden skin almost glowing beneath his own pale hand. His youngest niece found that she could summon the Autumn flame at a very public gathering. The pride hadn’t left Eris since. He found he loved rubbing it in Helion’s face that only one of his beloved granddaughters got Day Court powers. Mathilde was disappointed at her own lack of fire, but she was happy for her sister. Lucien had the ability too, of course, but Eris had begged him to let Crya come to Autumn once a week to be trained. 

Eris would not say it aloud, but he wanted to train his own heir. 

“When you summon your flame, feel it in your fingertips. You were angry or scared, but what else did you feel?” 

Cyra wrinkles her brow, “It felt like the hounds licking at my fingertips, or when I poke myself on my needle when I quilt with Grandmother,” she shuts her eyes, tightly, “It’s under my skin sometimes. Like when my foot is asleep, or my heart’s beating fast after I go swimming. My blood feels warm too.” 

Eris nods he knows the feeling very well. “Open your eyes, dearest.” 

The Autumn Flames dances across her hand. Reds, oranges, and a deep blue burn brightly across her fingertips. Cyra stares at her flame with awe, and so does Eris. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young man spits blood out from his mouth as his father strikes him again. 

“I gave you an order and you deliberately disobeyed me. Lucien makes for Spring, and why is that?” his father sneers. 

The young man says nothing, and his father grabs the young man by the throat, forcing him to the metal rack. Heavy cuffs strap the young man’s feet down, while his father snaps chains over his wrists. He turns and grabs an instrument off the table. The young man shuts his eyes, takes a breath, and tries to will himself away before the pain comes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His brother stands before him, holding a small baby. His niece. 

Her skin is a deep golden color, tinged with pink, but the hair is unmistakable. Red as his own, the same red as her father and her grandmother. The baby’s mother smiles from her bed, Eris smiles back. 

“Her name is Mathilde,” Lucien whispers. He hands the bundle to Eris, who takes it slowly. For as many infant brothers as he’s held, this is different. 

“After mother’s sister,” Eris murmurs. The babe sleeps peacefully in his arms. Her full lips are puckered, her small pointed ears sticking out among fine red curls. He strokes her small hand that has escaped the swaddle. Mathilde opens her eyes as she grasps his finger tightly. She looks at him with russet eyes and it hits him then. He begins to sob. 

“He’s gone,” he whispers as he looks at Lucien, “He cannot touch us again. He’ll never corrupt her. She’s safe.” 

Lucien knows, of course he does. He says nothing though, just wraps his arm around Eris and sobs with him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy can feel the itch creep on his nose as he sits on the velvet chair, waiting for the artist to stop painting. He is bored and restless and his tunic itches. It is heavy with golden thread woven into leaves, while a thick, leather jerkin makes in sweat in the firelight and candelabras that populate the room. 

The old fae brushes away at his canvas, looking over spectacles and a hooked nose. He will finish a painting that resembles Eris, but makes sure to highlight the cruelty in his face, to make him resemble his lord father more. It will hang along the halls of the Forest House, collecting dust and trapping the boy for eternity in discomfort. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eris kicks his boots off as he sinks into his sofa. The fire crackles as Anais and Justinian, his oldest and most loyal hounds lay at his feet. The day with advisors and emissaries was a long one, full of squabbling and shouting. Now, Eris takes a moment to rest in his solar. 

He looks up above the fireplace where the first painting catches his eye. His nieces look out at him with mischief and laughter from the painting. Mathilde’s wild red hair is lifted as she jumps for joy, while Cyra’s dimples are visible with her smile. The leaves they’re kicking up seem to move and their own smoke hounds are caught in midair at their feet. Lucien was quite jealous that his daughters were given a smokehound. “Life’s certainly tough for you, isn’t it?” Eris had simply said. 

On another wall, portraits of the girls as infants hang. And above his desk, a painting of the three of them, in Autumn Court regalia, hangs. Eris smirks as he looks at his own smile, his nieces in each arm. Mathilde grins as if she knows a secret, while Cyra stares out with warmth in her eyes. Feyre painted all of them, of course. As their aunt, she too knew the girls and could capture their likeness in the canvas without having them pose for hours. Eris laughs at the details, because in their outfits, Feyre has painted a little creature into the threads to represent their nicknames. A cricket, for Mathilde, and a little frog for Cyra. 

Leaning his head back on the sofa, Eris closes his eyes and enjoys this moment of peace. It is Anais's grunts that bring him back. "You're right, old girl." he says, leaning down to pet her great head, "We must get some sleep, the girls are coming tomorrow." 

TAGLIST: @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @elleybug @queercontrarian @iftheshoef1tz @yanny-77 @tunaababee @pippsmcgee @separatist-apologist @fieldofdaisiies

[cressidagrey]

Something good and right and real - Chapter 5

Summary:

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Discussion of Murder

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

Tartera lived in the mountains surrounding Velaris. 

Not unlike Hewn City, a whole world carved from the mountain. Hollowed out, held together by magic. Though, they had done it first. 

There were legends of her kind, of the first Tartera fairies being carved from stone itself. Maybe that was why they felt so at ease in the mountain. 

Oriana easily admitted that while she could withstand fire like every Tartera, she did like the sun and the fresh air. 

Cyrus hated going into the mountain. Probably not helped by the fact that he hated the fire as well. 

Still, once a year, for their grandmother’s birthday, they went into the mountain, Oriana holding a ball of fire in her palm as they made their way through the entrance, greeting the guards and then walking deeper into the mountain. 

It should just be around midday. Lunch promised to be a less formal affair than dinner ever had been, and her grandmother would probably be holding court like she usually did. 

Oriana had never actually asked how old her grandmother was. A few millennials maybe?

Her mother was close to 800 years old, after all, her oldest sister was around 600. 

Oriana was the youngest just over 200 years of age. 

But Cyra, Custodian of the Mountain…well, she was older than all of them. 

She could tell stories about things that hadn’t happened in centuries, about people long dead, a time before the great war…

Cyra had lived through it all. 

Still, their grandmother wasn’t the first member of their family that they met. That honour belonged to her brother Samson, a guard member that protected the mountain from…well, anybody that thought that they should get a cut out of the precious metals and gems they mined eyes day. They didn’t have many, enchantments and wards kept out…most if not all. 

He greeted them with a nod, a dark red cloak wrapped around broad shoulders, fastened with the traditional brooch, which made it obvious to what creed he belonged. 

“Cyrus, Oriana,” he rumbled, always a man of few words. 

“Samson,” she responded, having absolutely no qualms about coming up to him and hugging him, even when he never quite hugged her back. He never told her to stop either. And she knew he would do that if it really bothered him. “How has it been?”

“Not much has changed since last year,” he responded. “Titania was wondering when you two would finally arrive.”

Of course, their oldest sister would wonder. She was the first daughter of the first daughter after all. 

It marked her as 2nd in command to the mountains and their realm, if one could call it like that. 

They lived under the command of the Night Court but within the mountain, the word of her Grandmother was law. 

The word of Adara was law. The word of Titania was law. Then Althea, Titania's eldest daughter… 

Then Enya, their middle sister. 

It had never needed to go further down the line than that. 

Which was good for Oriana, because then it would have been her word that would be listened to, and nobody wanted that. 

She would make a really bad Custodian of the Mountain. Oriana wasn’t prideful enough to admit that. 

She much preferred the art of making jewellery over the art of ruling. Oriana would leave the ruling to her grandmother and mother and sister and niece. 

Oriana would stay in the forge. 

Still, she was the third daughter of the first daughter. If they kept to something as human as a title…well, then she would probably be something akin to a princess. 

A runaway princess. Who didn’t particularly like the title either. 

In the mountain, she was chattel of a sort. 

Not high enough in the line of succession to have any right to reign. But high enough that she had been used to broker an alliance between her family and Wynstan’s. Giving them a tertiary claim to her grandmother’s council table and cementing her mother’s claim to the headship of the mountain. 

“Well, here we are,” Cyrus responded with a sigh... “Just when we said we would come.” Samson just shrugged, all of them well used to their eldest sisters’ moods, and followed along with him to the Great Hall. 

Oriana pulled back her shoulders, patting down her unruly curls that escaped the bun she had urged it into that morning and then walked into the Great Hall behind her brothers. 

Their entrance was marked with the quietening of conversation until it finally ceased completely. Her fist clenched at that, but she said nothing, the smile on her face set in place, her shoulders back, every step measured. 

She wore one of her more traditional gowns, something that Enya had made for her years ago because she didn’t want to listen to her mother’s comments that she would make with near certainty if Oriana wore anything that wasn’t obviously Tartera in its origins. This was. This had her sister all over it. 

Complete with the belt comprised of chains and charms, that Oriana had made herself, every single one carrying her maker’s mark. 

She wore her creed openly, there for everybody to see. 

People stared. Of course, they did. 

Decades ago, the sight of Oriana had been common among the Great Hall, among the other fairies living in the mountain. 

She had worked here, lived along them. There had been no reason to think of her as anything but Tartera, even with her pointy ears. 

She had kept most of her abilities quiet, no fire dancing at her fingertips unless she was in the forge…no flames flicking through her eyes.  Then Wynstan…had happened, and her magic had been in a state of flux. She was quite certain that people had been terrified of her. 

Now…Now, with her only being here so rarely…well, Oriana was legend and myth. 

Oriana Fireborn, Third Daughter of the First Daughter. 

It was whispered behind her back. 

She wondered what some of them would think if they knew about what lay beneath the skirts swishing around her ankles. 

What she wasn’t wearing openly was the harness that kept the two knives Azriel had given her strapped to her thighs.  But it was still there, easily able to be accessed, thanks to the slits in the side seams of her skirt.

She highly doubted that she would even need them, but she was also quite sure that the only reason he hadn’t told her to wear them, was because he didn’t think she was going to agree to it. 

Jokes on him. She definitely agreed. 

Granted, the only person she had ever really thought about stabbing in the mountain was no other than Wynstan’s older brother Titus, but that could change.

And if the knives weren’t enough….well, she had Azriel’s shadows wrapped around her wrist, twisting themselves through her bracelet stacks, until it seemed like they were polished onyx and part of them. 

Her grandmother was holding court at the High Table. Even as tiny as her grandmother was, she still somehow seemed larger than life to Oriana. And the curtsy came to her like a second nature. 

“Oriana.” She was home. Old, wrinkled hands gently patted her cheek. “Let me look at you, little flame.”

She leaned into her grandmother’s touch, let the glamour that she kept around her eyes fall and her grandmother stared into the flames of her eyes, flicking merrily. 

Somehow her grandmother just seemed to know things. She stared at Oriana and a pleased smile appeared on her face. She wondered if her grandmother somehow knew about Azriel. 

“Happy Birthday,” Oriana said quietly. 

Her grandmother hummed. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she told Oriana pointedly. 

Cyrus took her place as she rose gracefully and stepped to the side, dipping into a shallower curtsy as she reached her mother. 

When she was younger, Oriana had wanted to be like her mother. Otherworldly beautiful, bleeding elegance with every step. 

The one thing she had inherited from her was her height. Gracefulness had been something hard-won and definitely not inbred for her. 

And finally, Oriana had realised that while she could put on a mask of something similar to her mother if the situation called for it, she had absolutely no want whatsoever to spend every hour and every day like that. 

She was fine with that. 

“Mama,” she greeted her and her mother mustered her. She had the sudden want to twitch under her gaze and pat down her hair, but she didn’t. She wasn’t a youngling any longer. She was over two centuries old. Her mother should be well used to Oriana showing up, smudged with soot and still neck deep in the theory behind one of her enchantments. 

That was what she excelled in. 

“You are looking…well,” her mother finally said quietly. “Are you ready to come back to life with us properly?”

Of course. 

Regardless of how long Oriana stayed living in Velaris, regardless of how well she did there…her mother could still not understand it. 

Of course not. 

To her mother, every position within the mountain was higher than anything Oriana could reach outside of it. 

Within the mountain she had been one of the best, respected and even feared…Outside Oriana played at being a simple shopkeeper as far as her mother was concerned. 

“Not on a bet,” Oriana responded drily. “I quite like my life in Velaris.”

Her mother just sighed. 

“You were always odd,” came the voice of her oldest sister to her side and Oriana smiled at her. 

“Titania,” she greeted her. 

“Not bored yet of making nothing but earrings and bracelets?” Her sister asked, as always prodding and probing to find a chip in her armour. The problem was only that Oriana knew Titania’s playbook by heart. 

“It’s quite relaxing,” she responded evenly. “I think I of all people deserve that after what happened.”

Her sister softened. 

Regardless of how prickly Titania could be, there were a few things Oriana could count on. Titania would prickle and prod, but nobody else was allowed to do that same, or hell would rain onto them. 

And Titania adored her husband and daughter more than life itself. 

“I’ll never understand you,” Titania muttered under her breath, making Oriana laugh softly.

That was just the opening said husband and daughter needed to slide into the conversation, with Anthea happily coming bouncing right up and hugging her tightly. She had only celebrated her 20th birthday months ago, a child her sister had longed for desperately for decades until they had finally gotten her.

“Aunt Oriana!” Anthea sing songed. “So do I get a gift?” she asked her and Oriana couldn’t help but snort in amusement. 

“You aren’t the one whose birthday it is,” she pointed out reasonably. Anthea pouted. 

Oriana sighed, slipping off one of the many bracelets she wore. The one that she had made with Anthea in mind, a white opal inset. 

She held it out to her eldest niece, who snatched it up. 

“I am your favourite,” she singsonged. “Thank you!”

Toron, Anthea’s father, snorted in amusement, reaching out to ruffle Oriana’s hair. She glared at her brother-in-law. He gave her a bright grin in response. 

“You are all ridiculous,” Enya said, crossing her arms. The middle sister. “At least you are wearing a proper dress. I was terrified that the High Fae Fashion may have started to drag on you.” 

“I like my gowns. Especially this one. You made it after all,” Oriana agreed peacefully, taking a seat between Toron and Enya. 

“And what did you bring back for me?” Toron asked her. 

“You are too old for gifts,” she hit back with a roll of her eyes, amused beside herself.  

“700 years isn’t old,” he disagreed with a pout. 

“True, you are nearly a spring chicken,” Enya sniped under her breath. 

“Where’s Kiran?” she wondered, eyes searching around the room. 

“Where do you think he possibly could be?” Enya snorted in amusement. Right. Stupid question. Probably somewhere deep inside his forge. 

“How’s the leg holding up?” Oriana asked Toron and he shrugged. She looked down under the table as he pulled up his pants leg, showing the gold and silver prosthetic leg. He had lost his leg in the same accident that had killed Oriana’s father. 

The prosthetic leg had been made by himself, enchanted by Oriana and fitted by Enya, a healer by Creed. 

It worked a treat for him, still, it had taken decades to perfect it and Oriana still worried that it was going to stop working one day and she couldn’t fix it. 

She fixed everything. 

“All good,” he promised her. “Though I figured since you were here, you were going to take it apart once again.”

“Don’t think I have the time for it, I am not planning to stay longer than 3 days,” she admitted. “But I’ll check up on it.”

“Oh?” Toron asked, so much said in such a small noise. 

“I have things to take care of back in Velaris,” she admitted before she finally got to actually eat some of the food that was waiting for her. 

She slipped right back into the midst of her family. Now that she wasn’t with them year-round, she could appreciate them a whole lot more. Crazy, how that sounded. 

Still, she listened to the newest gossip that Enya provided and followed along with her sister as Enya dragged her to her room to get ready for the evening ball. 

“What have you done to your poor hair?” Enya asked her, pulling a grimace as she picked out the few dozen of hairpins that Oriana used on a normal day to keep her hair contained. 

It was long and thick and curly, and it never seemed to quite do what she wanted. So up into a bun it went, so that it wasnÄt going to interfere with her work. 

“Nothing?” Oriana asked and Enya growled at her. She knew better than to say anything when her sister got like that, dousing her hair in some kind of potion or other. 

She held her tongue, even when she worried about going bald. 

Still, whatever Enya did to her hair, for once managed to make it look…well, manageable. The curls were shiny and defined, and it was soft to the touch, falling to her waist in onyx black ringlets. 

“I’ll get you a bottle,” Enya muttered under her breath. “I can’t look at you when you look like that.” 

Oriana bit back the amusement. 

It wasn’t like she didn’t care how she looked. She was big enough to own too many dresses and way too much jewellery. But she was far removed from her older sisters, for whom all of that was a secondary calling of sports. 

If Enya wasn’t busy stitching up flesh, she was stitching up dresses. 

Still, Oriana sat through Enya’s primping and prodding with no protests, because that was how Enya showed her love. 

Oriana just snuck her jewellery in response. 

“You have a gown?” she asked Oriana, who just stared at her. 

“You mean a gown that you aren’t going to let me wear anyway?” she responded drily and Enya huffed. 

Oriana bit back a smile.

Enya did let her choose her own jewellery, let her pin back one side of her hair with a couple of pins decorated with white opals, her grandmother’s favourite stones. 

And then Enya brought out the dress. 

Marigold yellow layers upon layers of nearly shine through silk, so thin that everything could ruin it…so thin that it would be seethrough if there wasn’t so much of it. 

That together with a yellow-gold gem-studded belt that she had made for Enya years ago, so wide that it would cover much of her midsection. 

“I think it will look beautiful,” Enya told her, brokering no argument, already starting to unlace the back of her dress for her. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Oriana agreed as she pulled her dress over her head. 

For a moment, Enya was quiet. 

“Oriana.”

“Yes?”

“Any particular reason why in the world you have knives strapped to your thighs.”

Oriana would make a truly horrible spy, because she totally forgot that she had them. 

She had been so busy with…practically everything else that the knives that had been a comforting weight just hours prior had been promptly forgotten. 

Somehow she thought that Azriel would look at her with this face somewhere between amusement and tragic despair. 

“Call it protection?” Oriana suggested and Enya just glared at her. 

“Can you even use them?” her sister asked her. “Maybe we should have Samson show you how to do it. Before you accidentally stab yourself.”

“I can use them,” Oriana defended herself. “He taught me how to use them.”

“Samson?” Enya wondered. 

She bit her lip. 

“No,” she admitted. “My mate.”

Enya just stared at her. 

“Cyrus knows. Now you.”

And then there was only a soft shocked sound before Enya enveloped her into a tight hug. “Oh, Oriana. I am so pleased for you,” her sister whispered. 

Oriana knew that she meant it. 

Enya maybe didn’t want a mate for herself, but that didn’t stop her from being supportive of her.  

“When did it happen?” Enya asked her as she let her go, picking up the dress and helping Oriana pull it over her head. 

“A few weeks ago,” Oriana said softly. “I was just walking the streets…and there he was. I stumbled right into him.”

Enya would listen to all the details that Cyrus really couldn’t care less about. 

“So he's High Fae?” Enya asked her. 

“No,” Oriana answered. “Illyrian.”

“Illyrian,” Enya repeated, her eyes widening nearly comically. “He has wings .”

Oriana couldn’t hold back the laugh at that, because she had half expected that reaction though probably not for the reasons that one might think. 

“Oh yes, he has,” she agreed. Beautiful Wings at that. All of him was beautiful.  

“He can fly ,” Enya said wondrously and Oriana nodded. 

“He even took me flying with him,” she teased her sister. 

“I am so jealous,” Enya said with a sigh. “Does he have a brother I can borrow or something? Just for the flying?”

 “I’ll ask him,” Oriana volunteered and Enya just sighed once again, before shrewd eyes finally stared at the at the necklace that was still around her throat. 

“What about…” Enya started and Oriana interrupted her. 

“I am taking it off.”

At least she hoped she would. 

Oriana had a plan. 

She just hoped it would work. 

“You are?” Enya asked her, sounding surprised. 

Oriana just nodded. “Tonight.”

The faster she got it down, the quicker she was free of Wynstan and everything that marriage represented to her. 

And she didn’t want to wear the necklace anymore. 

She had taken notes after notes on it, written down the runic array she had used, and taken it apart…she would be able to replicate the protection she had on it. She was sure of that. 

Now she just needed to break it. 

“Why tonight?” Enya asked her quietly.

Of course, her sister was going to pick up on that. 

“Because nobody is going to be in the fire chamber when they are busy dancing,” Oriana answered honestly. 

“You want it to melt off you,” her sister responded, her voice flat. 

Oriana just shrugged. 

“I’ll sacrifice it. Return it to the mother,” she said softly. “It seems fair.”

And if the normal fire wouldn’t suffice…well, then she hoped that the eternal flame would be willing to lend a hand. 

“Why now?” 

“I waited for a century. I am not willing to wait any longer. ”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Her grandmother’s birthday celebration started with dinner and continued with dancing. 

Even Kiran came out of the forge at that, drinking too much sweet wine and having a grand old tie. 

And Oriana…well, she was happy that she got to dance. Even when the thoughts were crossing her mind of what she would be doing soon. As soon as the celebrations had started, when everybody was busy dancing…well. 

But right now she was enjoying herself. Right now, she was taking the opportunity to soak up the atmosphere and laugh when Toron twirled her around the floor. 

Or at least that had been the plan. 

But everybody knew what was said about best laid plans. 

She was twirled around by her brother, and then she suddenly wasn’t anymore, because the partners changed…and while it should have been Toron…well, Titus decided he should cut in. 

Which was just what Oriana needed. Not. 

Her former brother-in-law. He reminded her of Wynstan, a few inches taller, but the same dark hair, the same proud nose…

She could see her husband in his features, and somehow that was a specific kind of torture. 

“Oriana,” he greeted her, his voice cutting, even with just the simple word. 

“Titus,” she responded, forcing a smile on her face that hopefully looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. 

She was quite sure that she was failing. 

She tried to ignore the way his eyes trailed over her body, tried to ignore how the necklace heated in warning, and swallowed against it. 

She didn’t like this. Not at all. 

“You are still wearing it,” he said, his voice near mocking. 

“I am,” she agreed serenely. She was still wearing it. 

“You have been wearing it longer than the marriage was ever valid.” True. She was. “How does it feel to wear it when you are the one who killed it?”

Right.”

“How am I supposed to have killed him when it was his experiment?” she asked. 

She told herself that a lot over the years. It had been his experiment. He had been the one who had started it. 

She had just been…she had come in after it had already started. 

For years that’s what she had clung to. She had told herself that it was an accident. That Wynstan just hadn’t been careful enough. That it was a tragic accident and that if he had just been more careful, then it wouldn’t have needed to go down like that. 

And then…then she remembered every minute detail of what had gone down that day. 

 And she remembered…she remembered…she remembered how it should have killed her not him. How it had been supposed to kill her, not him. 

And how her own magic had responded, turning the flames away from herself and against him. 

His accident turned attempted murder, turned self-defence, turned…burning him to a crisp with all the might of magical fire that she had never pulled out of herself before…and hopefully never would again. 

“He made the mistake that cost his life. I was just caught in the crossfire.”

She said the words that she didn’t believe. The official version that people believed. 

“And you believe that?”” Titus hissed to her. 

She ignored that, ignored the stabbing pain somewhere in her chest region. It didn’t matter. 

“I believe that there is nothing I could have done differently,” she finally said, as she stepped back, as she finally could snatch back her hand from his grasp and get the hell away from him. 

She just knew that her eyes must be flaring, no longer the pitch black that she kept carefully pulled over them so that they didn’t terrify everybody that she met. 

The flames within her were flaring, licking out. 

Sometimes she could nearly feel it, the fire that she kept tightly leashed inside herself. 

Oh well, why not throw in some emotional turmoil when she was already at it? 

She shouldn’t have expected any differently. 

Sneaking out of the Grand Hall was easy, faeries too busy with the celebration to give her more than a second look. And even if they did, all they expected was for her to be tired and walk to her room and be done with it. 

She wasn’t. 

A part of her calmed as she walked further into the mountain. Down and down and down, right there into the middle, where the fire chamber resided. 

A circular room, deep into the mountains. And if one looked up when they stood inside it, one would be able to glimpse the night sky through the near tunnel-like opening at the top. 

The ground and walls were smooth through millennia of use, black and sooty. 

Opened the door, walked into the room, and closed it again. 

She was home. 

Regardless of where she lived, in the mountain or in Velaris, in her tiny apartment…there was one place that was always going to be her true home. 

And that were the flames flickering before her. 

Maybe it was because she had been born into their embrace. Maybe it was because like called to like and the fire within her recognised its kin. 

Maybe it was just her mind making it all up. 

But as she stood there, before the first ring of fire…she relaxed. 

It was the work of minutes as she pulled her dress over her head and left it carefully folded laying on one of the ledges in the wall, pulling off every bit of jewellery that she wore, the knives Azriel had given her…all of it. 

Until she was left in her wedding necklace and nothing else. 

She prodded off the shadow of her wrist. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised them quietly when they seemed to cling to her. 

Mistress, what are you doing? they asked her, their many voices intertwined in one. 

“I am going to take off my necklace,” she explained. “And for that, I need to walk into the fire. I don’t want you to get hurt in the flames. They won’t do anything to me, but I don’t know how they’ll react to you.”

They listened to her, but they still seemed anxious as they skittered away. 

It was going to be fine. 

She had thought about it. Nothing should happen. The fire should melt off the necklace, the enchantment would break, and all would be well. 

Oriana stared into the shadows for just a moment, feeling deep inside herself for that glowing string of fate, tied around her rib. She pushed all the love she had for Azriel into it. 

And then she turned and walked into the fire. 

At first, nothing happened. 

The first circle wasn’t even knee high as she breached it, but it immediately roared to life as she stepped through the boundary. 

Nearly playfully, the flames flicked along her skin, their heat a balm to her that not a lot of things would be able to replicate. 

She stood there for just a moment, waiting for the necklace to heat up, for the metal to grow molten and bendy. 

The outermost ring was the one they used for their ceremonies. The flames had been used to close the necklace in the first place. As a child, she had been passed through them at the blessing ceremony that came after her birth. She had walked through them when she had bled for the first time and became a woman in the eyes of her people. 

And she had been born into these flames like not many were. Her mother had chosen to give birth here, after a difficult pregnancy, hoping that this would mean that her child would be blessed. 

Oriana often wondered if that was the reason why her powers were as strong as they were. 

The flames that had seen her first minutes on the earth spilt upwards. 

But still, the necklace didn’t budge. 

She reached up, feeling the necklace heat up against her skin and she hissed as she felt that the fire was magical in nature. 

She didn’t have much time. 

Normal fire couldn’t hurt her, could hurt no Tartera. But Magical Fire was another question entirely. 

She had no other choice. 

She had hoped that the first ring would be enough, but she should have known that it wasn’t. 

She pushed herself through the next ring, and could nearly feel how that fucking necklace was already lashing out at her, her own magic turning against herself. 

Oriana had been so fucking stupid and now she was paying the prize for it. 

The heat kicked up so high that it was nearly making her nauseous 

Still nothing. 

Magic swirled around her as she clenched her teeth, as she tried to ignore the heat and the pain and the fear that wanted to grip her as she breached the third circle. 

This was too much. She shouldn’t have done this. She knew that. 

The heat was too much, the magic growing stronger in every consecutive circle. 

One didn’t simply walk through these circles. 

They protected the eternal flame within them and they were going to kill her if they judged her purpose to be anything but pure. 

And to be honest, it wasn’t pure.  It was desperate. 

I am sorry. I am sorry, she chanted desperately in her mind, hoping that this would be enough. Just the third circle. That needed to be enough. 

I can’t wear it anymore. I was stupid, but I just wanted to be free. When I made it, I just wanted to protect myself. I just didn’t want to be in the same situation again. I didn’t want to be bartered off. I just wanted to be safe…

She felt more than heard the magical crack. 

she forced her eyes open, even when the heat and pain of the necklace burning against her throat, seemingly making it impossible to breathe forced her against the stone floor, the fires of the third circle still burning around her. 

The Eternal Flame lit before her, in the very centre of the rings. 

Every Year, when it was time, the oldest of their people sacrificed themselves for its continued revival. Walked through the rings and never came back. 

The flame brought them into their afterlife, and in return, the magic of the donors wrapped itself around the mountain and the Tartera. 

Purely Magical. Eternally old. 

If Oriana petitioned it and it found her lacking, it would kill her. Or it would kill her anyway. 

Sometimes, very rarely. The Eternal Flame gifted a piece of itself to make it possible to forge something from it. 

Never enough for more than a single thing. Never given to anybody more than once. 

And now…now there she was, on her knees in front of it, and the necklace was going to kill her soon if she didn’t…

I want to be with my mate. 

I just want to be with him. 

Please. Please. Please. 

Please take it from me so I can be free. Please. I just want to be with him. I just want to love him. To cherish him. To protect him. 

She had been born into these flames. 

And so she reached out to them. 

They rushed up and up and up, the heat too much. 

They enveloped her once again like a favoured child. 

She gasped, tipping forwards, feeling the heat rush through her, feeling the magic of it punching through her, painless and quickly, her own enchantments not a single match to the powers of eternity. 

It pushed through every cell of her being, her own power feeling like kindling for it. 

And still…she wasn’t scared. 

The eternal flame was nothing more than gentle lickings of warmth against her skin, a roaring inferno to anybody else, white and blue as it took from her and melted away her necklace like it had never been there. 

She swore she could feel amusement coming from it as it cradled her close. 

“You are all my children after all, Little Flame.” the flame whispered to her and Oriana wished she could respond, but she couldn’t. “Love him. Cherish him. Protect him.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[141wh0re]

The Prince

Tw: 18+ MDNI | un-aliving | weapons| violence| blood| angst if you squint.

Word Count: 2059

A/N: After weeks of trying not to think about this and get through my last semester, we are finally here! I can't wait to rot your brains with this AU. I can't wait to see what you all think of this - Skelly xx

12th Century A.D. - in the desert of Al Mazafin, along the Red Sea.

Prince Kyle Garrick kneels before the sacred fountain, performing his mid-day prayer.

A singular speck of dried blood stains the low ledge of the fountain's pool, taunting the prince for his loss. The same fountain his father - King Jeremiah Garrick- was murdered near. He was found lying face-down in the small pool of the sacred waters, his own blood tainting it. Murdered when he least expected it; praying for his family and the safety of their kingdom's people. Wishing them to be blessed and protected.

The inky, black and red, aged speck stares back at him as he glares at it, allowing it to invade his thoughts, tainting his own mind with the darker thoughts. Wanting revenge for his beloved father. To damn the person who bestowed such responsibility upon him so soon, by taking his father's life.

Kyle wasn't ready to be king. All he knew was war. As his father's second right hand, it was Kyle's duty to bring honor to their family name, fighting in his father's army, invading kingdoms who threaten to bring harm to their beloved city of Al-Mazafin. He was curated into a man used to bloodshed and battle.

He'd learned much of what his father had passed onto him, yet he felt as if he wasn't prepared enough. He knew the day would come. He knew he'd be crowned the successor of his father's throne. But it wasn't supposed to be this soon.

He glared at the fountain, losing focus on his mid-day prayer, due to the incessant pestering from that singular speck of his father's blood. A single drop of blood that caused such a ripple within his mind, disturbing the calmness of his thoughts. It opened him up to the grief and anger that took residence in his heart and in his bones, taunting his darker parts, begging for them to be unleashed. To feel the weight of a dagger sliding into another man's chest, or the sharp pinch of the bow string snapping between his fingertips as he propels an arrow into his enemy, atop the back of his horse.

But what he couldn't fathom was the silken dagger pouch that seemed to hum and buzz with endless energy. Or the faint glow of purple it emitted when sand entered the pouch. And the strange haze it seemed to pull his enemies into when he threw the sand in their eyes, blinding them momentarily in a fit of desperation, to bid him time to maneuver a counter-attack.

It was left for him, by his father, attached with a singular note scrawled in his father's writing. One sentence. "Use it well, and you shall always know the truth."

His mother's voice sounds from behind him, disrupting the chaos of his mind.

"Kyle? Alright, love?" she asked tenderly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He rises from his position of kneeling, his warm, chocolate eyes flickering towards her warm gaze.

"Fine, mother." he replied in a strained voice, fighting the guilt threatening to consume him for lying to his mother.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"He would be proud of you... of how you're handling everything since his passing." Queen Cyra offered in a gentle tone.

Her kinky, black curls rested along her back, stopping just below her slender shoulder blades. The same curls her son inherited - though Kyle never allowed his to grow out. White Persian silk flowed from her slender frame, delicate patterns with purple and gold embroidery adorned the capped sleeves of her gown, and a large, golden sun pendant lay flush to her smooth, brown skin.

Queen Cyra was the epitome of elegance and poised sophistication, ever the diplomatic woman, she commanded respect in the same manner, her late husband, King Jeremiah did.

"Yeah.. I'm sure." Kyle replied, not entirely believing his mother's words.

Cyra's eyes softened on her son, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Why don't you get out of the palace for a bit? Wander the streets of the city and enjoy some fresh air," his mother suggested, sensing the weariness of her son's mind.

"It'll do you some good to wander a bit. Ease your mind." she added in her caring tone.

Kyle pondered her idea thoughtfully. It wasn't a bad idea at all. He'd been cooped up within the palace for the last few days, ever since returning from a particularly horrendous journey to another kingdom, in search of a another noble to wed.

"Yeah. I think I will." Kyle finally agreed, flashing his mother a quick smile that hadn't quite reached his eyes.

She smiled in return before pressing a warm kiss on his smooth brown cheek.

"Take Gaz with you." his mother advised, referring to his 2 year old guard dog, a South African Boerboel - a gift from an ally in the southern region of the continent.

He whistled at the large, sandy, short-haired mastiff who was standing dutifully at the pointed cinquefoil archway, keeping watch. Gaz snapped his attention from the archway and padded towards Kyle. "You heard the queen." Kyle spoke to the dog with a humorous lilt in his tone and a sly smirk adorning his full lips.

"I'll see you at dinner, mother." Kyle said as he pecked his mother's soft cheek, earning a warm smile.

Live music floated about the town square where the townspeople hustled and bustled around the streets and the bazaar, in a dance of selling and buying goods.

The delicious smells of freshly made foods wafted throughout the marketplace: Malfuf Mahshi, rice and noodles, Bamia, Koshari, and Molokhia.

Kyle adjusted his white keffiyeh, ensuring his face was protected from the sun, sand, and the townspeople, simply so he could observe and blend in as a commoner to avoid being disrupted. Including ditching his palace robes for a lightweight, beige tunic and salwar pants to combat the dry, desert heat.

Gaz strolled beside Kyle, keeping on high alert while protecting his human. Though his nose would briefly drift when passing carts of various cuts of meat, yet he followed the prince with unwavering focus.

Kyle leaned against the corner of a clay-plastered wall of an alleyway, studying his city's people, and watched as they milled about. Children of all ages darted throughout the bazaar, gawking over jewels, silks, and weaponry. The prince's heart swelled with pride upon seeing the people happy and healthy. Trade was booming, and there were very few people that seemed to be struggling to make a day's wage.

He lowered his keffiyeh from his jaw to allow himself the pleasure of divulging in freshly baked, Egyptian flat-bread - aish baladi. Gaz sat at the prince's feet, in the shade, keeping a keen eye on the various people passing by.

Kyle cast a glance at his loyal companion, a gentle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He broke apart a piece of bread and held it discreetly in front of Gaz's snout, to which the pup happily accepted the offering.

A commotion broke out in the distance, pulling both Kyle and Gaz's attention away from the market, redirecting their attention on a quaint building where thin tendrils of white smoke curled out of the geometric lattice - a shisha cafe.

Kyle adjusted his keffiyeh once more, shielding his face, before casually strolling towards the commotion.

As he approached the red-clay, colored building, he was met with the sight of the cafe owner -an older, pudgy man with tanned skin and white, balding hair- forcibly removing a woman from his place of business.

The owner's large palm wrapped firmly around the woman's bicep before harshly shoving her into the dirt of the street where she landed with a thud on her side.

"Your kind isn't welcome here! And if I catch you in here thieving from my clients again, it's to the palace where you'll have your hand removed!" the owner shouted angrily as he chucked her bag at her feet.

A woman thieving in the city? Curious.

Kyle waited until the owner ducked back inside his cafe before nearing the scorned young woman.

She begrudgingly pushed herself up to rest on her hip as she snagged her bag from the dirt and dusted it off.

Kyle extended his hand towards the supposed thief, wanting to help her to her feet.

From behind her jeweled veil, the woman glared up at him with fierce, green eyes, reluctantly taking Kyle's hand.

"Thanks," she grumbled in a hint of annoyance, though he could feel it wasn't directed at him.

"A thief, huh?" Kyle inquired with a cocked brow. He watched as she dusted her salwars, trying to rid them of the sand from the street.

"No. Not entirely." the woman replied in a melodic voice.

Kyle took a moment to take in her appearance. Black, thick and wavy tendrils cascaded down her back, stopping at the middle of her back. An hour glass figure with a soft tummy on display in her off-the-shoulder bandeau, and ample hips adorned her frame, standing a head shorter than the prince.

He tried to get a better glimpse of her features under the red, organza material of her veil, supple lips, and a slender nose are all he could make out. But he had to admit he was enthralled by her appearance.

What was a beauty like her doing thieving? Don't you know how dangerous that is, dove?

"So what was that all about then?" Kyle asked with piqued interest, observing the attractive woman before him.

"Nothing to concern yourself with." she quipped with a sharp finality in her tone. "I must be off to work, seeing as my other plan didn't work." she muttered lowly, letting out an exasperated sigh as she turned on the heel of her worn moccasins.

Kyle couldn't help but admire her no-bullshit personality. This was one of the thrills he received when roaming the town in disguise. He was treated as another dweller, and not some righteous soon-to-be king.

"Ah, so getting kicked out of the cafe wasn't the intended plan?" Kyle remarked with a humorous lilt in his deep, velvety timbre.

The woman stopped in her tracks with tensed shoulders, her fists clenched at her sides in irritation.

Ohh. We're a bit spirited, aren't we, dove?

She whipped her head around to face the disguised prince, "Why're you so nosy? What do you want, anyway?" Her eyes drifted away from him when she caught sight of a well-dressed, middle-aged-man passing them by on the street, three gold bracelets donning each wrist.

"If you'll excuse me." She dismissed herself before gracefully weaving through the crowd, like a black widow about to trap a fly in her webs.

Kyle was left reeling from the interaction. The mistress had already left such an impression on him from such a quick interaction. But his curiosity didn't stop him from trailing her.

He set off after her, bobbing and weaving through the crowded marketplace until he caught sight of her red veil once more, disappearing down a lesser-crowded alleyway.

Kyle hid behind a crate at the end of the alleyway, peering around it to watch as the woman leaned herself against the wall and ran her hand over the man's chest in a seductive lure. The man is so focused on her eyes and her words, he doesn't even notice her collecting the expensive-looking gold bracelets from his wrists. As if in a trance, the man careens his head towards her neck, speaking in a hushed voice as she nabs his bracelets, one by one. She keeps up her allure by running her freehand in his hair, pressing her supple body closer to him.

"What on earth are you doing, dove?" Kyle mumbled to himself. He kept his eyes trained on the young woman, unable to tear his gaze away.

His eyes darted towards the purple glint of the jewels on her veil, nearly the same purple the dagger pouch made when in contact with sand.

But weren't they red before?

"Seems you have many secrets, little dove." Kyle quietly mused with a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lip under the lightweight material of his keffiyeh. "Who are you?" he wondered quietly to himself.

Taglist: @pale-ghost-girl /@v1naco/ @starsofang

[starlightshadowsworld]

Little cousin AU

When Jackson and Holt begin Monster High, and seeing that Jackson was hell bent on becoming a mad scientist.

Their mother, Cyra gifts them both their father's journal. At first you'd think it was just notes from mad science.

But it was so much more.

Jackson, Holt and Heath spend hours pouring over it. Trying to figure out what was written by Henry and what was written by Edward.

Their were doodles in the margins.

Various mad science experiments. Some that went successful and others that failed.

The boys laughed so hard when they got to the results, how do you accidentally make your shrinking potion turn someone into a chicken?

Edward and Henry passing notes to each other, to Heath's dad, James.

Showing James who chuckles at the memory and regales the boys in an epic story.

Giggling and fake gagging at seeing Henry and Edward talk about their crush on Cyra.

They skip those parts because ew and boring. But in a way it's nice knowing that their dad's really did love their mum.

Abigail, Heath's mother looked over their shoulder once and grinned.

Asking for the book, happy to fill in the gaps of the pranks she and Cyra pulled.

"Nooo, he missed the best part so what happened was"

Because Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde were both remembered in the stories of their friends, their family.

Stories they often wrote down, lest they ever forget them.

And now those stories have found themselves in the hands of their sons.

They aren't their to pass them on in person, but hearing them from the people who loved them.

Makes it feel like they're telling them themselves.

[littlestarsprite]

My three Sandrock builders!

Cole -

- the fun one

- too much energy

- ‘I know I’m pretty, and you’re also pretty’

- always hanging out with someone

- wears his civil corp uniform for EVERY major event

- was a player for a while but found true love

- husband to Fang, adoptive father of two (Sparrow(m) and Pumpkin(f))

- forgot to breakup with everyone before getting married… oops

Cyra -

- hard worker

- sweet but quick to give ‘attitude’

- cptsd from childhood trauma

- immigrant from Duvous after she and her father fled

- will send her step mother positive letters even when the news is bad so she doesn’t worry

- completely enamored by Unsurrs autistic charm

- collects gemstones

Regin -

- ANxiETy

- does not understand social queues, sometimes comes across as rude or uninterested

- did not adjust well to sandrock at first

- dramatic

- has a rose garden

- dating Pen

- does not know the extreme MCR heartbreak he’s about to go through

[inawickedlittletown]

Dragon Chosen (BuckTommy fic) - 5/6

Summary:

In a world where dragons exist and where they pick their riders, Buck doesn't expect his perfectly normal Tuesday to include a dragon and his rider, Tommy, showing up to ask for his help with an injured dragon…a dragon that has picked Buck as his rider. Buck doesn't know who captivates him more his new dragon or Tommy.

Rating: M

Words: 3.8k

Ao3

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

-

Chapter Five

“They don’t want us to do anything,” Eddie said. “They’re going to take care of finding her. They asked that I put up some barriers around your property that can alert you if she shows up again.” 

Tommy should have expected that. The Dragon Guild was not to be trifled with. They would find her and take care of her as the threat that she was to young dragons. If she was a witch from a coven, then her coven would get involved too. Tommy had no doubt that they would take care of it. 

“They didn’t seem too worried,” Eddie added, looking towards Evan. 

“Do you know what would have happened if she came while Cyra and I were here?” Tommy asked. 

Eddie shook his head. Evan even looked like he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. 

“She would be ashes,” Tommy said. 

In his mind, Cyra agreed. 

“Oh,” Eddie said. “She’s powerful, though, I’m sure she prepared for that.” 

Tommy nodded. “The point is the guild knows Cyra can take care of herself. Gwyn is young, but he is still a dragon and now that he’s bonded he isn’t as vulnerable as the last time she attacked.” 

Even if the witch had been wearing protection runes or enchantments, Tommy knew she wouldn’t have gotten away. It was interesting, in a way, that she had shown up at all. It could be coincidence, but Tommy doubted it. Had she known that he and Cyra weren’t there? 

“I just…I just wish we knew why she was after all that power,” Evan said. 

“Does it matter? She hurt Gwyn and came after him again,” Tommy said. 

You know who he is, Cyra said in his mind. He’s compassionate and curious.

And he had a relationship with her

Cyra sent her amusement. Jealousy doesn’t look cute even on you.

“Probably nothing good,” Eddie said. “Attaining power like that taints it and nothing good could ever come of it. From how dark her leftover magic felt, I wonder if she hadn’t already gone something similar to get that power.” 

It left a bad taste in Tommy’s mouth to think that this witch had been out there gaining power for herself by unnatural means. He hoped that her power wasn’t a result of another young dragon’s death or a forced bond. 

By the time that Eddie and Chris left, Tommy felt exhausted. Although Eddie had said yes to the guild about putting up barriers, he’d still needed help. So, while Evan went inside to cook them all food, he, Eddie, and Cyra went to the perimeters of the property. 

“Why aren’t you a practicing witch?” Tommy asked. “I mean, you’re powerful as far as I can tell.” 

“I wasn’t always,” Eddie admitted. “I grew up in Texas and my parents are leaders of the coven. My dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps but I was never powerful enough for them and when some things happened I decided to come out here with Chris instead.” 

“And he’s not a witch?” Tommy asked. 

Eddie didn’t respond for a while, concentrating on the barrier and the connection it needed to have to Tommy. Cyra for her part, bent her head to touch Eddie’s shoulder and Tommy felt the way that she shared some of her own magic to bolster Eddie. 

“He could be,” Eddie said. “His mother was human. My parents wanted to start teaching him, but it’s not innate for him. I can barely feel any magic in him and I don’t want him to be disappointed, but sometimes he does do some accidental things. I guess I’m waiting to see if his magic grows with him or not.” 

After they were done, they ate the lasagna that Evan had made. It was nice to have Eddie and Chris around and Tommy couldn’t wait to have them over again especially since Chris seemed so eager to see Cyra and Gwyn again. 

“Are you as tired as I am?” Tommy asked Evan. 

Evan shook his head. “You’re definitely more tired, but I don’t want to do anything for the rest of the day either.” 

Despite that, Evan didn’t join him in the living room after they finished cleaning the kitchen. Instead, Tommy heard him head outside. Curious, he followed. 

Gwyn and Cyra were out on the grass. Cyra’s massive body curled up around the smaller dragon. She was asleep, but Gwyn was not. Tommy watched from the house as Evan approached his dragon. He didn’t spend too long with him before he turned and headed back. 

“Oh,” Evan said when he saw him. “I just wanted to check with him again. He’s still shaken by everything.” 

“Who could blame him,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah. I’m a little shaken too,” Evan admitted. 

Tommy grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. 

“I always knew she wasn’t a good person,” Evan said. “Taylor, I mean. When I first met her I was in a bad place and then the second time she was in a bad place and we kinda…I guess it was more about having someone else there but fundamentally we disagreed on everything. Then Lucy kissed me and I didn’t stop it or tell Taylor and she never told me she was a witch. I guess we never communicated well. Or at all.” 

Tommy wrapped his arms around Evan and he felt Evan lean into him and wrap his own arms around him. 

“We’ve all made bad decisions,” Tommy offered. 

“Yeah,” Evan said with a hum. “I suppose so.” 

“Good ones too,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Evan, I have many regrets, but you aren’t one. Inviting you to stay here, getting to know you, having you in my bed, it’s been kinda amazing.”

Evan pulled back enough so that he could look at Tommy and Tommy was surprised to see the awe in his face, as if he somehow hadn’t expected for Tommy to feel that way. There was vulnerability there that was almost a bit shocking with how forward Evan had been with him, but Tommy could understand that. 

“I don’t want it to end,” Tommy admitted. “We haven’t talked about it, but I want this — us — to mean something.” 

Evan’s smile grew and he leaned forward, pulling Tommy into a kiss that was sweet and soft and that ended as quick as it started. 

“It does mean something,” Evan said. “Maybe even everything.” 

—

The Dragon Guild couldn’t find Taylor. A whole three weeks after she had shown up searching for Gwyn and they had nothing. Apparently Taylor had abandoned her job, not been at her apartment in months, and she didn’t seem to actually have any friends. Evan had confirmed her lack of friends and even how the witch rarely spoke about her family. 

“They think her name is not actually Taylor Kelly,” Tommy told him. 

“Really,” Evan said. “I guess that tracks.” 

Tommy bumped his shoulder. “We’re not going to worry about it unless she shows up here again.” 

He didn’t add that the guild was very worried about younger dragons and Taylor possibly switching her attempts at finding another young dragon. Although the dragon population had dropped some, there were still quite a few dragons. Dragons and their riders were taking turns guarding the spaces where young dragons resided. Tommy was the only one not going out there because they preferred he stayed close to Gwyn though there had been talk of maybe persuading a couple of the dragons to go and stay with them as well. Tommy was open to the idea. 

He and Evan walked out to where Gwyn and Cyra could be found right on the grass. Gwyn was stretching his wings out. Cyra was splayed out next to him almost lazily. She looked up when he and Evan approached and turned so she was still low to the ground, but ready to stand. 

He’s ready

Wouldn’t stop him if he wasn’t. 

You’re not wrong.

Gwyn dropped his wings down at their approach and he immediately turned to Evan. 

“Come on,” Tommy said, grabbing Evan’s hand. 

Evan got onto Cyra first and Tommy joined him. Evan’s arms came around him at once and he felt Evan nosing into his neck and hair before he dropped a kiss to Tommy’s shoulder. 

Gwyn pushed off first, wings beating fast as he got himself into the air. Cyra followed a moment later. Tommy could feel Gwyn’s joy even if not directly. Evan laughed against him. 

“He feels so happy,” he said. 

“Dragons are supposed to be in the air,” Tommy reminded him. 

Gwyn flew upwards. Cyra kept herself a bit below him and for a while they were all just up in the air without any real direction. Gwyn seemed intent on just doing anything and everything he could in the sky. He did twists and dropped and went back up. He dove down and lifted up at the last moment. 

“I love seeing him like that,” Evan said against Tommy’s ear. 

“Me too,” Tommy said. “And just wait until you can be on his back.” 

Evan let out a nervous sigh. “Is it bad how nervous that makes me?” 

“In what way?” 

“I guess here on Cyra I’m with you. I can’t imagine doing it on my own.” 

Tommy found Evan’s hand on his stomach. “You’ll do just fine when the time comes. Don’t worry.” 

Evan relaxed against him. Gwyn was flying back towards the house when Tommy felt the jolt from the barrier. Taylor was back. 

“Evan, she’s here.” 

Bypassing Evan entirely, he shouted to Gwyn. Don’t go down. 

Cyra snarled and Tommy felt her annoyance and how she was reigning in her anger. 

“What do we do?” Evan asked. 

Cyra did her part by reaching out to see if any other dragons were nearby — they weren’t. Tommy fumbled for his phone tucked into a pocket that was too tight specifically to keep his phone from flying out while in the air. If the witch hadn’t seen them yet, she would soon. 

Tommy finally got his phone out. He made the call. No one answered. He tried again. No answer again. He left a message. 

“No luck?” Evan asked. 

“No,” Tommy said and he felt Evan reaching for his own phone. 

“Eddie,” he heard Evan say. “She’s here. We can’t get ahold of the guild.” 

The call didn’t last long. 

“What did he say?” 

“Bobby is contacting dispatch,” Evan said. “And they’re coming our way.” 

It could have been easy for them to just leave even if he wasn’t sure what Eddie and the 118 might be able to do. Eddie wasn’t powerful enough of his own, but if they had another witch maybe. 

The part of him that wanted to protect Evan and Gwyn and Cyra didn’t want to go confront her. He wanted to fly away and come back once they knew she was gone. He couldn’t do that, though. Not when she was a danger to more dragons. There were so few already and they couldn’t afford to lose any more. 

We can take her.

I know. Don’t burn her to a crisp unless necessary. 

Cyra sent back her amusement and agreement. 

—

He could feel Gwyn’s worry. His fear. It was such a switch from the excitement that he’d been feeling from his dragon and yet he understood it. He hadn’t expected for Taylor to return, though at least this meant she hadn’t left California. Buck didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. 

“I guess it’s up to us,” Tommy said. 

Cyra began her descent and Gwyn followed close behind. Buck was shocked when Cyra actually opened her mouth and shot out fire into the air. It was more of a warning than anything else. Looking down was dizzying with how fast they were moving, but he thought that he actually saw the distinctive red hair. The closer they got, the easier it was to see her and when Cyra touched down, Buck could even hear her. Cyra made a point of flapping her wings in Taylor’s direction. 

Taylor almost toppled back. She seemed to be mouthing something. A spell, Buck thought. Buck couldn’t worry about that. Gwyn had landed and he rushed forward, wings out and roaring. Fire shot out going right towards Taylor. Despite how direct it was, the fire just went around her. 

Taylor took a few steps back. She had to know that she wouldn’t hold her own against two dragons even if one of them wasn’t fully grown. Buck did see a problem in that Taylor was rather close to the house and it was in danger of catching fire if Cyra’s fire went too close to it. 

“I think maybe I should talk to her,” Buck said. 

“What?” Tommy asked. “No, that’s insane.” 

“What’s insane is thinking we can get through this without your whole house going up in flames and Taylor getting away. It’ll take them at least ten more minutes to get here. We have to stall. She won’t be expecting to see me.” 

Buck didn’t like it and Tommy didn’t have to either. Tommy actually grabbed onto Buck’s hand before he could let go and it wasn’t, as he expected, as some kind of reassurance, as much as because he placed a ring on the middle finger of Buck’s left hand. It fit a little loose, but Buck could feel the power in the ring.

“What—”

“It’s protection,” Tommy said. “I don’t like this, but if you must then you’ll wear that.” 

Buck had never seen the ring before, he realized, couldn’t remember ever seeing Tommy wear it. It had to have something to it that kept it hidden. Sure enough when he looked at his hand, he could feel it on his hand, but he couldn’t actually see it. Cyra didn’t lower herself for him, but that didn’t matter because she gave him a way down her back. 

Be careful, little one Cyra said. Don’t do anything stupid.

Evan, what are you doing? Don’t…don’t go Gwyn said it complete with panic that nearly made Buck want to stop and turn and go to Gwyn. He couldn’t.

I’ll be okay. Trust me, Gwyn.

Fine. I don’t like it, though.

I know.

He stepped around Cyra, but kept close to her. Taylor didn’t even notice him, not at first. She looked bad. She’d always been thin, but she looked like she’d gotten even thinner. Her face was gaunt, cheeks sunken in. Her eyes looked wild too. He could feel her magic and it felt wrong, corrupted. 

“Buck,” she said and even her voice sounded rough. 

“Taylor,” he said and then didn’t know what else to say, so he kind of stared at her. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked and she seemed to have a hard time looking away from Cyra. 

“I should be asking you that,” Buck said, “seeing as you’re trespassing and these dragons aren’t taking that very well.” 

Taylor’s eyes flitted to Cyra and then Gwyn and she took a nervous step back. “I’m — I was—”

“And you didn’t tell me you were a witch,” Buck said and he took a step towards her. “What’s going on, Taylor?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, snappish. 

Buck could feel Gwyn’s worry, but he couldn’t actually focus on that. 

“What I do understand,” he said, eyeing Taylor, “is that you tried to force a bond with a young unbonded dragon. What I don’t understand is why. He almost died, Taylor.”

Taylor inhaled a breath. “Buck, you…what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” 

She looked like a cornered mouse and Cyra looking down at her was the cat. He almost felt pity for her, until he remembered that his dragon had been hurt by her and that Taylor had come here for the second time searching for Gwyn. 

“No, what are you after here? The dragon? He’s bonded now, you can’t have him. You can’t have any dragon that hasn’t chosen you.” 

Taylor looked like she was seconds away from attacking him. She looked angry and Buck could feel the way that that anger actually fueled her magic. Something stopped her and she began to laugh. 

“You,” she said, “you’re a dragon rider.” 

Buck didn’t deny it. 

Taylor rushed towards him. Buck stepped back and she stopped. “Help me,” she said. “You and your dragon. You can help me.” She looked towards Cyra and then Buck with something akin to expectation. 

“Help you,” Buck said. “I don’t think so.” 

Her face hardened. She looked crazed and Buck knew enough to know that if someone was that desperate they really had nothing left to lose. Suddenly, he didn’t know if this was Taylor just trying to get power for herself. Maybe it was bigger than her, but that didn’t matter when she was the one that had attacked Gwyn. She was selfish and self-serving and Buck had always known that, but he was seeing a different side to that. 

They’re almost here, Gwyn said. 

“Wrong answer,” Taylor said and the next thing Buck knew was the feel of her magic and how it stretched out towards him. 

The ring on his hand began to heat up. It grew so hot that Buck thought it was actually burning into her finger. He heard Gwyn say his name and the sound of sirens. Fire flew right over his head, he felt the heat and heard the way that Cyra roared. Taylor cried out. The ring was hot until it wasn’t, going from hot to cold in seconds. Buck was pushed backwards and he hit something solid. Someone was yelling his name, he thought it was Tommy. 

—

Tommy was tense the whole time Evan was talking to the witch. He could hear them and didn’t know that he appreciated Evan’s stalling tactics. Cyra was keeping Gwyn in line, but just barely. When she actually pointed out rightly that Evan was a dragon rider, Tommy knew that things could only go badly. He couldn’t wait for Eddie to come and he couldn’t expect for Eddie to be enough to make any kind of difference. 

Can you hear the 118?

I think so. What do you want to do? 

He wanted to get down there and grab Evan and put him back on Cyra and fly him away. It was not an option. Obviously. 

Tommy could feel it, the moment that she shot a spell at Evan. The ring did its work, keeping Evan from harm. It did throw him back right into Cyra. Before he could even think about it, Tommy was dropping down from Cyra’s back.

“Evan!” he cried out. 

 Gwyn was shooting fire at the witch and while the first few bursts didn’t hit, the last one did and she dropped to the ground, spelling the fire away. Gwyn didn’t wait, going over Evan right to the witch and literally pinning her to the ground. 

Don’t roast her, Cyra said to Gwyn, connecting the three of them. 

We need her alive, Gwyn. She’ll face what’s coming to her.

I want to tear her head from her body and charr her remains, Gwyn said back. 

I don’t disagree with you, but we need her alive. We need answers and she needs to pay for what she’s done. Cyra’s voice was steady, but Tommy could hear the protectiveness in it and the way that she fought her very nature. 

Tommy made it to Evan’s side. He’d fallen right against Cyra’s legs. She’d cushioned his fall as best as she could but between being thrown and the effects of the ring, it wasn’t surprising he was passed out. Tommy could see that he was breathing and he was sure that he was fine, because if he wasn’t Gwyn would have torn the witch apart. His restraint was admirable. 

Tommy still pressed his fingers to Evan’s neck and he lowered him onto his back. 

“Evan, can you hear me?” 

He touched Evan’s face and then grabbed his hand. The ring was glowing a little. The spell had worked. He couldn’t think of what might have happened if he didn’t put the ring on Evan. 

Gwyn snarled. Tommy heard the witch make a whimpering noise and then Gwyn snorted, a puff of smoke hit the witch and she should be glad it was that and not flames. 

The sound of the sirens distracted him from Evan and then he heard the familiar voices of Hen, Chim, Eddie, and Bobby among others. Tommy was reluctant to leave Evan, but he did when Hen’s hand landed on his shoulder. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“Spell was cast at him, he was wearing a protective charm. Knocked him into Cyra, but he’s breathing. Pulse is steady.” 

He could see her running his own checks and he was too focused on that to see what else was happening. Eddie and a younger guy he’d never met were standing by Gwyn looking down at the witch. Tommy saw Bobby approach them. He was torn between going to them or staying with Evan. 

Eddie calling his name made him reluctantly walk in their direction. Hen gave him a reassuring smile. 

Taylor Kelly was under one of Gwyn’s legs, his talons pointed at her chest. Gwyn was reluctant to step back and Tommy didn’t blame him. The witch seemed to be holding herself completely still other than her eyes which flitted from the dragon and then to Eddie. 

“What happened?” Eddie asked. 

“Evan decided to talk to her. She tried to use a spell on him and when Evan was thrown back Gwyn burst through her protective barriers with fire and then jumped on her.” 

Tommy reached out and placed a hand on Gwyn’s neck, rubbing up and down. Gwyn leaned into it, but he never looked away from Taylor. 

“We’ll need to seal her magic,” the guy Tommy didn’t know said. “It’s wild. Dark.”

“Tainted,” Eddie said. “I know.” 

Eddie turned to Tommy, then. “The guild did finally pick up. It’s a busy day, apparently, though they didn’t tell me why seeing as I’m not a rider.”

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Can you and—”

“Ravi,” Eddie said.

Ravi was currently crouched down, hands on the ground next to the witch.  

“Can you and Ravi do this on your own?” 

Eddie nodded.

Meanwhile, Evan was being put on a stretcher. He was still passed out, but his chest rose and fell. 

“He’s fine,” Hen said. 

“Magically exhausted,” Chim said. “So he’ll sleep for a while. A few hours, but it could be more.” 

Tommy reached out for Evan, hands landing on his left arm. He was warm and he was breathing and his heart was beating. When he looked back at the witch, it seemed like Eddie and Ravi were already getting to work. Cyra was watching them carefully. 

“Are you taking him to the hospital?” Tommy asked. 

“Not necessary,” Chim said. “We should get him inside, though. He’ll sleep for a while.” 

“I can do that,” Tommy said, “just open the door.”

Evan wasn’t light, but Tommy knew he was strong enough, so he slipped his hands under Evan, made sure that his head rested on his shoulder and he followed Chim towards the house and then up to his bedroom. Chim didn’t say a word as Tommy put him down. 

“Got it from here?” Chim asked. 

Tommy barely nodded, incapable of tearing his eyes from Evan. He took off Evan’s shoes, socks, pants, light jacket, and shirt, leaving him in his underwear. He tucked Evan in that way and lingered a few more moments before he leaned over and kissed Evan right on his birthmark.

[saturniasxenos]

Cyber / Virtual ID Pack

Inside this pack, you will find: Pronouns, Titles, Names, and Genders that relate to Virtuality, Cybernetic, Robots, and anything alike!

This features a LOOOONG list of pronouns and dystopian-ish names!

Pronouns:

Cy/Cyb/Cyber/Cybers/Cyberself

Vir/Virt/Virtual/Virtuals/Virtualself

Ne/Net/Network/Networks/Networkself

Ne/Net/Nets/Nets/Netself

In/Inter/Internet/Internets/Internetself

Co/Comp/Computer/Computers/Computerself

In/Inpu/Input/Inputs/Inputself

Ou/Out/Output/Outputs/Outputself

Vi/Viru/Virus/Viruses/Virusself

Anti/Antivir/Antivirus/Antiviruses/Antivirusself

Er/Erro/Error/Errors/Errorself

Sys/Syste/System/Systems/Systemself

Pro/Proce/Processor/Processors/Processorself

Di/Digi/Digital/Digitals/Digitalself

Do/Down/Download/Downloads/Downloadself

Up/Uplo/Upload/Uploads/Uploadself

Cor/Corru/Corrupt/Corrupts/Corruptself

Mal/Malwa/Malware/Malwares/Malwareself

Se/Secur/Security/Securitys/Securityself

Cry/Crypt/Crypto/Cryptos/Cryptoself

We/Web/Webs/Webs/Webself

Web/Webs/Website/Websites/Websiteself

Fu/Futu/Future/Futures/Futureself

Ro/Rob/Robot/Robots/Robotself

Rob/Robo/Robotic/Robotics/Roboticself

By/Byt/Byte/Bytes/Byteself

Fi/Fil/File/Files/Fileself

Ra/Ram/Rams/Rams/Ramself

Scr/Scre/Screen/Screens/Screenself

Te/Tech/Techs/Techs/Techself

Te/Tech/Techno/Technos/Technoself

Tec/Techno/Technology/Technologys/Technologyself

Ma/Mach/Machine/Machines/Machineself

Wi/Wir/Wire/Wires/Wireself

Na/Nan/Nano/Nanos/Nanoself

Da/Dat/Data/Datas/Dataself

Plu/Plug/Plugs/Plugs/Plugself

Ele/Elect/Electric/Electrics/Electricself

Ke/Key/Keys/Keys/Keyself

Pa/Pass/Password/Passwords/Passwordself

Ter/Term/Terminal/Terminals/Terminalself

Cy/Cybo/Cyborg/Cyborgs/Cyborgself

Ty/Typ/Type/Types/Typeself

Fi/Firm/Firmware/Firmwares/Firmwareself

Ha/Hard/Hardware/Hardwares/Hardwareself

So/Soft/Software/Softwares/Softwareself

Ha/Hack/Hacks/Hacks/Hackself

Ha/Hack/Hacker/Hackers/Hackerself

Si/Sig/Signal/Signals/Signalself

Clo/Clou/Cloud/Clouds/Cloudself

On/Onli/Online/Onlines/Onlineself

In/Insta/Install/Installs/Installself

Co/Cod/Code/Codes/Codeself

Ad/Admi/Admin/Admins/Adminself

Gra/Graph/Graphic/Graphs/Graphself

Sy/Syn/Synth/Synths/Synthself

Phi/Phis/Phish/Phishs/Phishself

Phi/Phish/Phishing/Phishings/Phishingself

Do/Dox/Doxs/Doxs/Doxself

Si/Sit/Site/Sites/Siteself

Bo/Bot/Bots/Bots/Botself

Pho/Phon/Phone/Phones/Phoneself

Key/Keyboa/Keyboard/Keyboards/Keyboardself

Mo/Mou/Mouse/Mouses/Mouseself

Chi/Chip/Chips/Chips/Chipself

Moth/Mother/Motherboard/Motherboards/Motherboardself

Co/Com/Compute/Computes/Computeself

Pi/Pira/Piracy/Piracys/Piracyself

En/Encry/Encrypt/Encrypts/Encryptself

PDA/PDAs

CPU/CPUs

URL/URLs

404/404s

📱/📱's

💻/💻's

⌨️/⌨️'s

🖥/🖥's

🖱/🖱's

💿/💿's

🎙/🎙's

Titles:

The Cyborg

(X) Whos Wired

Made of Nanotech

(X) Who Uses Nanotech

Scholar of Machines

The Cyber Security

(X) Who Has Cyber Wings

Connected Online

Offline

Unable to Connect

The Administrator

Synthesizer

The Hacker

Nanohacker

The Antivirus

Reconnecting...

ERROR: Unable to Connect

ERROR 404

ERROR: Malware Detected

Names:

Since names don't usually have "techy" meanings, I picked one's that sounded the most cybernetic, cyberpunkish, dystopian, virtualish, etc!

Fem: Althea, Ameris, Astoria, Arcadia, Astra, Beretta, Cyra, Crystal, Crosselle, Eve, Io, Jinx, Kit, Lilith, Meridian, Morrian, Nebula, Nova, Neve, Noxia, North, Octavia, Odette, Odile, Prota, Pistol, Rey, Rue, Rain, Raine, Stormy, Seraphina, Sona, Skye, Thundra, Tempest, Vega, Viva, Vinette, Venus, Xenia, Xya, Xena, Xiomara, Xenara, Xanthe, Zephyria, Zyla, Zadie, Zia,

Masc: Alaric, Aksel, Arden, Antares, Apollo, Ace, Asher, Cole, Cyrus, Code, Draven, Drift, Ender, Flynn, Hawk, Isaac, Jericho, Kip, Kai, Koios, Knox, Nox, Neo, Nero, Octavian, Orionis, Oghma, Paine, Rocket, Ray, Rai, Silas, Slader, Sebastian, Seth, Seraphim, Thalax, Theo, Thatch, Vox, Vector, Wyatt, Xyon, Xane, Xylan, Xerxes, Xayden, Xavier, Xander, Zander, Zayden, Zenith, Zev, Zale, Zane, Zaire, Zeke,

Neu: Andras, Axe, Axiom, Alloy, Allele, Ash, Arrow, Beetle, Chrom, Corvus, Dakota, Dell, Eos, Echo, Eden, Fox, Ghost, Glöckner, Hydrae, Ion, Jesper, Jett, Kursk, Lesath, Locklyn, Lyrae, Maddox, Nemo, Orca, Onyx, Oxygen, Panther, Rikko, Robin, Rune, Scorpion, Scorpius, Saturn, Sparrow, Sonar, Tore, Tauri, Techne, Techno, Ursae, Vesper, Volt, West, Wolf, Xen, Xenon, Zephyr, Zodiac, Zenon, Zeru, Zero, Zen

Genders:

Futuracityc: A gender related to futuristic cities

Futurafashic: A gender related to futuristic fashion

Futurahousic: A gender related to futuristic houses

Digigender: A digital gender. Rangeable from any digital thing or file; virus, malware, .txt, .mp3, antivirus, trojan, email, etc.

Cybergender: A gender or form of gender expression where ones gender or expression is deeply tied into Cyberpunk lore, culture, fashion or media.

CYBERWEAPONIC - a gender that feels like a digital or robotic weapon. this gender may also have ties to sentient AI used as a weapon, but not necessarily.

BIOAMOROBOTIC - a gender connected to being a robot who loves humanity and the world and finds joy all around them!

RobAnatomic - a gender under the anatomic system(link) related to robots, anatomy, robotic anatomy, the anatomy of robots, robots made to teach/study anatomy, anatomy based/related robots of some kind, the anatomy/biology of someone or something being robotic, having robotic anatomy, being a robot with an interest in anatomy and more.

Robogender - for people who’s gender identity aligns with machines/robots/androids/mechs/AIs.

Cyborwebic - a gender related to webcore, evil scientist aesthetics, artificial beings such as androids/cyborgs etc, turtleneck sweaters and old computer monitors

AI flag - this can be used for nonhuman, otherkin, gender, delusion.

Gendervirtual / Genderdigital - a gendersystem in which your gender is related to virtual ) digital themes and x , such as being a virtual ) digital x , a x who loves virtual ) digital themes , a virtual ) digital being who loves x themes , etc.

[thirteens-lucky-tardis]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 - 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐎𝐂

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

≪━─━─━─━─◈─━─━─━─━≫

As the sun chose to grace the land in the morning, the welcoming beams of light fell in Ember's room. The new addition of luminescence caused the young dragon to stir gently before waking up. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and took a deep breath. Today was the day. She was terrified, no doubt, but there was an unwelcome sense of ease about the whole thing. Why was she feeling so calm? This was supposed to be nerve-wracking...

In the corner of her room hung a simple white dress - an empty canvas with which to create her world upon. It was ceremonial to wear white for The Selection, as with most other ceremonies you might know of. The door to her room opened, and in stepped her mother with a flower crown in her hands, decorated in white lotus flowers and smiled.

"Good morning, my dear. Are you ready for today?" asked her mother, properly named Cyra, crossing the room to Ember's bed and set the flower crown on the blanket.

"I'm a bit nervous..." replied Ember, hugging her legs to her chest.

"Oh, my dearest Ember, there is no need to be nervous. Just... imagine it as a party. A party with all of your friends who are there to support you and who love you..." Cyra said softly, placing a comforting kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Now come along, Ember. Let's get you dressed."

Cyra held out a hand and helped Ember off of the bed and led her over to the dress, pointing out small details in the fabric. For example, there were small stitches of some of her favorite things along the bottom of the skirt in white thread, of course. Crystals, stars, flowers, paintbrushes... everything Ember loved sat embroidered in the cloth. On the back of the dress was a small train of an iridescent fabric that flowed from the shoulders. The stitching around the edges made it look like dragon wings. Two pieces of elastic sat on the ends of the sheer cloth that she could attach to her fingers.

"Oh, Mama, it's beautiful!" Ember gasped in awe as she ran her fingers over the embroidered artistry that adorned the dress. Ember was very, very excited for this dress alone.

Cyra smiled brightly at her daughter's awestruck look and pat the young girl on the shoulder. "Go take a shower, and then you can put it on, alright?"

Ember happily ran into the bathroom to take a shower, and once she was finished, she practically skipped out in a fuzzy robe, and Cyra continued talking. "Would you like my help putting the dress on, or would you like to do it yourself? I will respect your privacy if you want it."

"Can you help me...? I don't want to ruin it..." Ember admitted. Cyra nodded and carefully took the dress off the hanger. Ember took off the robe and quickly slipped into the dress. Her mother was careful not to touch anywhere that could be deemed inappropriate in order to respect Ember's boundaries. The zipper was soon zipped up, and the small pieces of elastic hung around Ember's fingers, making it look like the flowy material was actually her own pair of wings.

"I love it!" Ember exclaimed as Cyra began to style Ember's white hair into a simple yet elegant braid and finally placed the crown of lotus flowers onto her head.

Cyra smiled warmly. "There we go, Ember. You look beautiful."

Ember giggled and spun around before playfully bowing. "Thank you, Mama!"

"You're welcome, dear. Now, shall we go? Your father is already there since he had to help set up!"

"I'm ready!" Ember smiled herself and grabbed her mother's hand as they left their house.

The location of The Selection was a rather elegant location. It was hosted in a large arena that could hold hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. The empty area in the middle was where many events occurred, and currently, there were several tables set up, awaiting Ember's arrival. One might compare this arena to that of Earth's infamous Colosseum. At this time, the arena was already almost packed, and the chatter was deafening. Within moments, an announcer's voice sounded through a sound system, announcing Ember's arrival.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ember walked into the arena, and the crowd cheered loudly, which caused Ember to wince and cover her ears. Within moments, the people were silenced. A tall woman stood in the center of the area, in the middle of the circle of tables. Her hair was an ashy black, and her eyes a bright orange. She stood in a regal way with her head held high. Her features were sharp and gaze heavy from all that she had seen. This was Cigri, no doubt.

"Ember. You come before me to participate in The Selection, yes?" Cigri said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her voice was smooth and calming in a way.

"Yes, I do." Ember replied, repeating exactly what she had been told. She glanced around at each and every table and saw that every one had something upon it, hidden under a fiery red cloth.

"Then I, Cigri of the Elders, invite you to find your clan." With a wave of Cigri's hand, the pieces of cloth on each table burned into ash, at which the crowd gasped. Ember looked around at the crowd and saw Rhaelrivera smiling down at her and nodding. Ember took another deep breath and looked at the tables. Each one had a dragon upon it - some a solid object, others simply manipulated into shape. For example, the earth dragon was simply carved from stone and covered in moss and small flowers, while the air dragon was simply a floating cloud in the shape of said dragon.

Ember walked around, looking at each of the tables. None of them spoke to her... in truth, she could pick any of them, but she would do well with the dragon that called to her. She looked at the fire dragon that hovered above the table. She debated choosing it to make her family proud, but... she didn't feel anything around it, so she continued. It wasn't until she got around to a figurine made of pure glass did she feel something... a sort of pull towards the small glass dragon, like a magnet. Her eyes fixated on it, and without thinking, she grabbed the figurine off the table.

A mere second later, a tingling sensation filled her body, which caused her to giggle. As she held up her hand, she noticed a white glow around her fingers. The crowd cheered as they watched Ember, yet - like before - the crowd was silenced when Cigri stepped forward.

"Ember has been selected to join the Glass Clan!" vocalized Cigri. As if on cue, every glass dragon in the audience cheered. Ember couldn't help but smile, realizing that she had found her place.

***

After the ceremony, a glass dragon named Agate led Ember to a back room that held a rather large mirror in it. Agate was a rather short, slightly curvy woman with a bright smile and a brighter personality. Her hair was a pale yellow, and her eyes lavender in color.

"Okie dokie, little Ember! This is the fun part!" Agate smiled and clapped her hands.

Ember looked at her, confused. "What's happening?"

"Oh, little dragon, here is where you get to pick how you look! We're some of the special ones. You see, glass can be stained to be any color in the universe, so thus, we as glass dragons can choose whatever color we want to use for ourselves! I change my hair nearly every week," Agate explained. She had a tendency to ramble, but Ember didn't mind.

"How does it work?" asked Ember.

Agate smiled again. "It's simple, really. Just think really, really hard about one of your features, and it will change!"

Ember turned to look in the mirror and focused on her eyes. She thought of a deep red, and soon, the iris of her eyes changed to red. She made a look of disgust and focused again. Blue? Maybe... Orange? No. Brown? No. Black looked too menacing for her... Ember was starting to lose courage when she perked up and focused one last time on her eyes. They changed to a vibrant green, and Ember smiled. That was perfect.

"Ooo, I'm digging the green!" Agate exclaimed as she watched. Ember smiled and turned back to the mirror. Now it was time for her hair... what color looks good with green? She thought for a moment before her hair changed to a pale blue. The color wasn't as vibrant as the sky but could be compared to the of a very light cornflower. Ember hopped up and down slightly and grinned. She loved how the bright green felt with the blue hair. She pushed her newly colored locks behind her pointed ears and squealed softly.

"How do I look?" Ember asked with bright, hopeful eyes.

Agate beamed and clapped. "I love that combination! You look so pretty!" Ember looked back at herself in the mirror, and for once, she genuinely liked who she was seeing...

≪━─━─━─━─◈─━─━─━─━≫

Also published on Wattpad: To Be Free by embers_dragon_

Tags:

@rxin3akamallory @pretty-chips @glow-autumz @evolvingchaoswitch @raccoonfallsharder @criticalcrit @thejudgyboiao3 @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr

[darkfictionjude]

How two best friends met or ‘what is so fun about the damn park?’

A Nia Cyra Mir story.

“Her mother had been so busy lately and she didn’t know why…”

Read Here

[midnightsun-if]

Just remembered another classic RO ask: What if the ROs saw someone trying to flirt with the MC but the MC was utterly oblivious to it, and once MC happily approached them and the ROs asked them about it, a baffled MC responded sincerely 'Why would I notice anyone flirting with me if it's not you?'

Koda: A bright smile catches his lips at the admission, warmth sparkling deeply within his gaze. “Really?” He places his hands to his chest, a happy little buzz running through his body like a live wire. “Can you tell me when we’re flirting next time? I don’t want to miss it.”

Scarlett: A singular brow arches, emerald eyes glinting with thoughts that she’d probably never share. “I wasn’t aware our conversations could be constituted as such.” She turns away then, though you think you notice the beginning of a smile starting to curl her lips, and snaps her fingers. “Let’s get going. I believe we have everything we need, correct?”

Cyrus/Cyra: “We’ve been flirting?” They tilt their head, genuinely perplexed, as they assess you. “When did that start and how did I not notice it?” Confusion quickly gives way to deep contemplation as they mull over their own question— clearly getting lost in whatever thoughts were plaguing their mind. Their next words being muttered in a low murmur, confusion riddled within each syllable. “Was I flirting?”

Quinn: “Is that right?” A gentle smile quirks their lips, even as they’re pointedly ignoring their swell of pride within their chest due to their wolf, and gesture for you to come closer to them, not wanting to continue moving on without you next to them. “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind for next time. Wouldn’t want to be the only not noticing something.”

Caden: “W-What!?!” Silver eyes widen completely, cheeks flushed a brilliant red as they flounder for any form of a proper response. “W-Why would I flirt with you? That’s highly inappropriate! I-I’d never do such a thing.” They turn away then, hoping that you wouldn’t be able to notice the clear lie that just left their lips. “We must be going. I promised I’d send a report off to your mother.”

Sloane: They huff out a laugh, arms crossed over their chest. “Work on that line in the mirror?” Turning to look at the path ahead of them, a disgruntled frown falls across their brow. Clearly not happy with whatever they’re seeing— or possibly because of what you said? It’s entirely possible that you’d find yourself alone in the next moment; it wouldn’t be the first time. However, Sloane turns back to look at you with an expectant expression. “Ready to go?”

Blake: “Is that so, angel?” A salacious grin tugs their lips upward, violet eyes glinting with familiar fire. Without hesitation they pull you into their embrace, wrapping you in a firm, yet gentle, hold. “I’ll make sure to remember that.” It’s softly whispered into your ear and, if you had been able to see their expression, you’d take note of the softness it now held— something they’d never be able to stop from feeling towards you, even if they weren’t ready for you to see it yet.

Reginald/Regina: “You’ve been noticing what now?” They turn to stare at you, eyes wide in shock. “Have I been putting the moves on you without even realizing it?” An expression of mortified horror etches across their face. “And you’re still talking to me? I’m either smoother than I thought or you’re a lot nicer than I realized.” Turning around, they begin to move down the hall, though you’re able to catch their muttered statement. “For my egos sake I’m going to say it’s the former.”

[areyoudreaminof]

Next Gen Headcanons:

Nyx:

-very into architecture, loves buildings. The Prythian equivalent of a lego kid. Builds Feyre a studio and builds Oriana a little dollhouse.

-He carves little wooden animals, like his grandfather. His mother and aunts aren’t sure what to make of it at first, but they grow to love it.

-Nyx wears goggles when he flies high. When he’s older (like 100) he gets really into the idea of an aerial corps for the Illyrians.

-He loves all his cousins but is closest to Cricket. They’re called the “Terror Twins” in the family. 

-Not much of a “ladies man” in the traditional sense, but the ladies love him because he’s easy going, respectful, and doesn’t play games.

-he’s an okay artist, if he put in more effort he’d be better. 

-he’s embarrassed by Rhys’s over the top fashion sense. 

-he’s a daemati, but hates going into people’s minds unless absolutely necessary. 

-very close to Az and Nesta. He trusts them both implicitly. And his first word after "Mama" was "Nena!" for Nesta, of course.

-his best friend is the Winter Court Heir. They have a secret handshake.

Cricket:

-Helion’s shadow. She breeds horses and Pegasi with her grandfather and they’re very, very close. She’s a very talented equestrian and trains the Day Court horses on her own. 

-Her real name, Mathilde, comes from the Lady of Autumn's sister. Lucien gave her the nickname Cricket, when she was a baby. She babbled at night.

-she’s a Spell Cleaver and she got all the Day Court powers. No Autumn powers to be seen

-When she grows up, she becomes THE Emissary for all the courts and the human lands since she’s so well connected. She really doesn’t want to be the heir. She's ruthless at negotiation, thanks to Eris's training.

-Cricket is Lucien with a better upbringing. Snarky af.

-Rhys is her favorite Night Court uncle, but also her mortal enemy in their prank war.

-Very close to her parents. While she got Lucien’s hair and eyes, she got a lot of Elain’s features. 

-Extremely close to Eris. She is given Autumn citizenship, title of Grand Duchess of Autumn and a smokehound. She calls her hound Trajan, her favorite Day Court hero.

Froggy:

-she is a prodigy and teaches herself to read at some young ass age. Very quiet and proper, but isn’t afraid to get dirty. She speaks Scythian fluently and teaches herself old High Fae. 

-Her real name, Cyra, is an ancient Day Court name. Helion picked it out. Froggy comes from Cricket, who thought her baby sister looked like a frog when she was born.

-she looks the most like Helion, and has “Day Court looks” with Elain's golden heir. Which is funny because she got the Autumn flame and is more or less considered Eris’ heir by himself and the Autumn court. 

-her smokehound is named Brigid, the first fae in Autumn to wield fire, whom she idolizes.  

-She is super close to Nesta and Feyre. She adores Cassian. 

- she’s very empathetic. I toyed a lot with her getting the Seer gift, but she instead has a very good intuition. 

-She always wears a bow in her hair. She thinks it looks sophisticated. She picked it up from her human cousins in Scythia.

Orianna

-very funny and mischievous and caring. Spoiled rotten by her parents and the House.

-The House LOVES HER. The House gives her the best room, and a kitten. It just showed up when she wanted it. It's a real kitten she calls Pudding.

--she loves music and singing. When she’s older (a few hundred years old) she does a research project for the library and compiles old oral folk tales and songs from the women in Illyria. 

-Nesta’s velcro child. Orianna is ride or die for her mother. She does love her Daddy though. 

--her wings are from her grandmother. 

-She and Froggy are the closest, but she hero worships Cricket and Nyx. 

-Orianna was also raised and watched a lot by Clotho and the other priestess in the library. She is named Research Assistant when she's little and she takes it VERY seriously. She loves Clotho the most.

-She is the official representative of the Library at the House to the Day Court.

-Gwyn and Emerie are her aunts. Full stop.

-she loves her Aunt Feyre and loves to paint with her. 

-when she feels angry and upset, Uncle Az takes her for “quiet time” where they color together. It helps her calm down. He teachers her how to sing and old Illyrian songs.

-Cassian calls her his princess.

-she will become the first Valkyrie Librarian

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Did I hear a request for some fluff 👀? *ahem* Since you want some fluff; how about a small oneshot with the FueLara and their children with the prompt “Is this a dream? If so, I never want to wake up.” Please 🥰?

Hiya Lyra! I took my sweet time with this, but I was in the mood for some fluff so... I finally finished this ^^ Thank you for enabling me!! ❤️‍🔥

Characters: Eleonora, Leonidas, Cyraleona and Fuegoleon Vermillion, Solara Equinox Pairing: Fuegoleon x Solara Genre: Family fluff with the Fuelara kids Summary: The kids are playing in the garden of the Vermillion estate, Nora manages to pull the two older ones into a puddle and they are all in need of a bath to wash the mud away, the family then curls up in blankets next to a fire, and Papa Fue comes home from work to see his family bundled up Length: ~2.6k

A few clouds floated through the sky at the Vermillion estate as a few leaves, painted with the colours of autumn, floated down from the trees, danced through the air, and landed onto the rain softened ground. The tiled paths were lined with the brown grass that was getting ready to welcome winter in some months of time, and a few puddles had collected here and there. And there were occasional gusts of wind that shifted the leaves around with a rustle that was overpowered by the sounds of laughter and yells.

“Nora!” Leon, the oldest of the three children yelled while running after the smallest.

The little girl had only recently learned to run, but it seemed that, now that the youngest of the little lion cubs had gotten her feet under her, she wasn’t about to stop and sit down any time soon. Which was only emphasized by the babbling laughter that escaped the little girl, as she was running across the garden as fast as her little legs could carry.

“Nora, you’ll trip if you keep running into the puddles,” the other girl, an older sister with ombre hair that begun as red, but shifted to a warm blond at the tips, called while running after her brother and sister. But her tone was much more gentle; as if simply a louder speaking voice, rather than a call.

And at a small distance away, overlooking at the scene, was the mother.

She was standing to the side with her hair tied up onto a French twist, and her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were to the children. The few steps here and there she took, were to keep her line of sight on the little ones, just to make sure that nothing would happen.

Sure they might stumble a little, perhaps tumble into the puddles, but there was no wrapping them into bubble wrap. The ground was soft, and they were home. There was no real danger, and the toddler needed to learn that sometimes you might trip, but then you’d get up. Which seemed to come naturally.

Though Eleonora had stumbled, she had always met it with the same bubbly laughter, and had tried again. And it was because of that trait that Solara had thought Nora to have learned to run at such a young age.

The little girl just refused to give up.

She was headstrong and determined. And she’d be sure footed once she got some practice; it wouldn’t make sense to hinder the progress.

But Leonidas and Cyraleona seemed very concerned for their baby sister. Which was understandable. After all, the twins had been there to see Nora as an infant; how small and frail she had been, just like any baby. And they hadn’t quite yet forgotten how small she was, which was why they were trying to run after the little one, to keep her from stumbling.

Nora on the other hand, had other ideas. If one hadn’t known any better, one would have thought that Nora was purposefully running away from her siblings to show them that she could make it on her own. Or maybe try and tell them to keep up with her, and to push them a little bit.

Maybe eventually she would be. But for now. She was simply intent on running into the puddles, and Leon and Cyra were running after her. While trying to persuade her into playing in the piles of leaves.

Which... when dealing with a toddler that potentially had her father’s affinity, might not be the best decision. Even if the leaves were slightly damp.

Eleonora was still too young to be showcasing her mana, or affinity, but there was always a chance that it would push forth and cause a combustion of a kind. Fue hadn’t exactly been precise about at what ages he had accidentally lit his own clothes on fire due to the abundance of mana he held, but by all logic, it wouldn’t still be for a while with Nora. But. It never hurt to keep an eye on things.

Leon and Cyra had inherited a combination of Solara’s and Fuegoleon’s affinities, which had resulted into a few fires already, which gave an added reason to be watchful. Though the two of them were already old enough to keep their magics in check, for the most part at least. Some of their spells were still volatile and uncontained, but they’d learn over time.

I wonder what affinity Nora will have... For some reason I don’t think she’ll be the same as Cyra and Leon. I just didn’t have the same feeling while expecting her than the twins. But for some reason I don’t think it’ll be the same as mine either... Though Fue tells me that it’s too early to speculate, I’m more inclined to think that she’ll have his affinity. Or something closer to his affinity. Solara thought to herself. And Nora seems more hands-on, eager to dive into new experiences and to learn, while both Cyra and Leon were a bit more ...careful, in their approach. Cyra more than Leon. Which... reminds me a little bit of myself. Not that I was exactly careful, but I was more so, I think. While Nora... she’s very much a Vermillion.

“Nora!”

Solara looked up to see both Nora and Leon sitting in a puddle. Nora was clapping her hands, and Leon looked a little bit upset with mud on his hands, while Cyra stood right by them with hands on her mouth.

Oh my, it seems that they need a bath, she thought while shaking her head with faint amusement.

Nora reached towards her sister, while stumbling up, and Cyra mirrored the movement to take a hold of Nora’s hand.

But as she did, Nora plopped onto the ground, pulling Cyra along with her. Which was followed by a yelp from Cyra and more laughter from Nora.

I see, Solara chuckled while jogging to the kids.

“You shouldn’t do that Nora,” Leon scolded with furrowed brows and sounding even more upset.

Cyra looked at her hands, and her soaked, muddy clothes, as her lips quivered a little.

“[Children,]” Lara called out while coming closer to them and kneeling down next to them.

“[Mom! Nora pulled us into the puddle!]” Leon said while standing up and away from the puddle.

“[I saw, Leon,]” she nodded, while Nora giggled. “[You shouldn’t do that Nora. You’ll upset your siblings,]” she scolded the toddler before turning her attention back to her eldest again. “[She is stronger than one would think. All toddlers are,]” there was a smile on her lips, but an apology in her eyes as she picked Nora up, and propped her against her hip to free one hand, so that she could offer it to Cyra.

The older girl took a hold of her mother’s hand, and got up, while fighting back tears in her eyes.

“[It’s okay honey. We’ll get you all into a bath, and then maybe some hot cocoa.]”

Cyra’s chin stayed lowered, but she shivered in the passing breeze, the same as Leon.

“[Hey... Cyra, sweetheart?]” Lara gave her oldest daughter a smile. “[You want to have a hug?]” She opened up her arm to welcome her in, while still keeping Nora up in her other. And Nora stayed still, behaving surprisingly well while observing the interaction.

“[I’ll get mud on your clothes mother...]” The girl sobbed while wrapping her arms around herself.

“[It’s okay honey, I can handle a little mud,]” she spoke with a gentle, hushed tone. “[Come here.]”

Cyra glanced up before diving into the embrace, and letting a few tears run down her cheeks.

“[Are you hurt?]”

Cyra shook her head.

“[Good,]” she glanced at Leon. “[What about you, Leon?]”

He also shook his head, looking a little more serious, but not as upset anymore.  

Lara nodded, and let her eyes shift between the kids. “[Now. How about that bath, and some cocoa afterwards, hm?]”

Cyra and Leon nodded, and Nora let out an excited giggle, after which they began walking back inside.

Later that afternoon, all three kids were seated in front of a fireplace of the master bedroom. The older ones had their mugs, and Nora had a sippy cup, but there was a blanket wrapped around all of them.

The bedroom door opened, and a familiar figure appeared through it.

“Papa!” Cyra was the first to put down her mug and run across the room, with Leon close behind her.

Nora was the slowest this time as the blanket hindered her start the most.

“Good afternoon my precious children,” he greeted while kneeling down and opening his arms to welcome all three into his embrace. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Nora pulled us into a puddle and we got muddy and wet,” Leon declared factually while looking his father in the eye.

“Oh, I see,” he chuckled. “That wasn’t very nice of you Eleonora,” he looked at the youngest who had an impish grin on her face.

“But we took a bath and got some hot cocoa,” Cyra added.

“Hmm... How wonderful. A nice long bath can help with a lot, I have found,” he stated with a smile.

“Mhm,” the girl smiled.

Nora pulled Fue’s jacket, closer to the fire place.

“What is it dear?” He asked with a tender gaze, waiting for the youngest to try her best to tell what she meant.

Nora got up, and toddled to her sippy cup, and then back, handing it to her father.

“Thank you dear,” he said with a smile and a nod. “But I’m sure I can have my own. So, you can drink yours,” he placed a kiss onto Nora’s forehead while handing the cup back to her.

“Come father,” Cyra pulled onto his arm. “Sit with us by the fire.”

Fue chuckled while standing up. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he assured. “I’ll just take off my cape and jacket first.”

The kids nodded and returned to their seats, wrapped the blankets around themselves and took a hold of their mugs while staring into the fire. Salamander followed suit in his small form, and curled into the fireplace on top of the logs, as if a cat in a sunny spot near a windowsill.

“We missed you,” Solara greeted while walking up to her, taking her turn to welcome Fuegoleon home.

“I missed you too,” he smiled while leaning closer and pressing a tender kiss onto her lips. “All of you,” he added while glancing to the kids seated by the fire.

“How was work?”

His eyes took on a tired undertone, and a sigh left his lungs as his eyes turned back to his wife. “Tiring,” he simply replied. “But let’s... discuss it later,” there was a request in his tone, a careful wish that he might relieve some of his burdens onto her, but not yet.

This wasn’t the time for it, not with the cubs in the room.

And she understood it more than well, which is why she nodded, and placed her hand onto his cheek.

“Later,” she assured him while stroking his cheek with her thumb.

His hands moved to take off the cape, and hung it onto a coatrack by the door, only so that he might take her hand into his, and bring it to his lips. He lowered his head, as if to make a small bow to her, and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss onto her skin, as his eyes closed in a slow blink before finding hers yet again. Only to linger. Only to gaze at her with adoration and need and a kind of pull that he, even after all these years, still couldn’t explain. Not that he needed to explain it. Because to him, it was enough to know that he wished to be by her side; spend the remaining days and nights he had in his life with her.

That in itself, was enough. To know that he wanted her; that being without her, would be a kind of slow death for him.

His posture straightened, and his head turned towards the kids; the three treasures in his life, gifted by life itself to him and her. And his hand kept a hold of hers, as his feet began making their way closer to the fireplace, to pull her along with her.

The evening went on by the fire place with a few cups of cocoa; stories and laughter, talk about everything and nothing in particular, until the kids fell asleep onto the floor with the pillows and blankets. Their eyes were closed, and their chests kept rising and falling next to the crackling fire as their parents just watched them.

“We should carry them to bed,” he whispered to her without taking his eyes off of them.

“We should,” she agreed with a whisper of her own, looking at the kids, just as he did.

“Do you...” he began to utter, but then shook his head, as if to shake of a thought he deemed silly.

“What?” She glanced at him with faint amusement, and a slightly quirked eyebrow.

“I was just... thinking,” he replied as the smile he had on his lips continued to linger.

“About?”

There was a kind of curiosity in her tone, one that was light and airy, but which held back a chuckle.

“About how... our journey hasn’t been without troubles...”

“It certainly hasn’t,” she mused, making his smile widen.

“But despite of it, we’re here,” his gaze was soft and gentle, as if to adore a sight he was still trying to believe to be true.

His hand lifted to find hers; as if he wanted to make sure that she really was there.

“We have... three beautiful children. All of them wonderful in their own ways. Like rare gems, and...”

There was a pause, during which he struggled to find words with which to depict what he was thinking.

She leaned a little closer, and placed her head onto his shoulder with a whisper. “About...?”

“About how... we got so lucky?”

The chuckle she has been holding back left her lips as her eyes closed in a slow blink.

“I do,” she admitted with yet another whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if this is just a wonderful dream...”

He let out a hum that was a strange mix of being pleased and amused. “If it is...” he pressed his head against hers with a rolling motion, as if to rub his head against hers. “I never want to wake up,” his voice was quiet and careful, almost as if he was apprehensive, almost like he didn’t want to be too loud out of fear of some higher being hearing the admission, and then making him do just that; wake up from the blessed dream he was having.

It was as if he was speaking out a secret for her, and only her, to hear.

Her hand kept a hold of his, telling him that she was there. That she shared the same reality along with him. That if it was a dream, it was a shared dream, perhaps one of fever.

But both of them knew, that their heartstrings, the gilded threads of fate that had spun into ropes, couldn’t have concocted such a perfect dream. That this, was far too good for either of them to have imagined. And thus, it must’ve been the reality, they were living.

[medieval-pokemon-theatre]

Silvy the Sylveon

This is Silvy my Sylveon

Silvy is a chipper and bold Sylveon, who works as a Security guard at Cyra's theatre, and as an instructor at her family's dojo.

She is a very chipper and happy Pokémon who loves Pokemon battles being the strongest out of her friends, Cyra my Espeon and Gale my Glaceon.

Her parents run a dojo where Pokemon of all types can come and learn new moves and how to battle.

Her father is a Mienshao named Wu, and her mother is a Jolteon named Storm. She has two older brothers that she would battle growing up, the eldest of whom is an Umbreon named Shade, the other being a Leafeon named Forrest.

On the weekends she enters local battle tournaments where she gets to battle all manner of strong opponents. She has a pseudo Rivalry with a Jolteon named Apollo.

She wears the Knight outfit when working, but when she is not working she wears a rain poncho.

Art done by Scruffyeevee

knight Style Sylveon is owned by the pokemon company

poncho style Sylveon is owned by the pokemon company

Silvy is owned by me