#so i could hoard them like a dragon hoarding gold

[vigilskeep]

hello! you know a lot of dragon age lore so i thought id ask you— i saw a post earlier that was discouraging to me aa trans person where the op said that veilguard having top surgery scars in the cc goes against established worldbuilding. does it make sense for top surgery to be possible in thedas? thanks

my rule of thumb is that in a world where healing spells exist, there’s absolutely no logical, believable reason for it not to be possible. you don’t have to go back and provide sources about historical surgeries—which is something i personally know nothing about—for this to be true

like, i just can’t take this line of thought seriously. ohhh we can have floating cities and magical neon lights and spirit healers who can mend injuries just by passively standing next to you, but we draw the line as soon as it’s something that would make our trans players happy! it’s so transparent. do not listen to these people or let them discourage you

if you want to get into the worldbuilding potential of it—which is just fun to do—we can probably guess that for the top surgery scars to be as neat as they seem to look in the veilguard character creator, similar to modern ones, magical healing was involved. now i do believe that the chantry might get suspicious of body-altering magic, that magical power is hoarded by the circles in the south and the wealthy in the north, and also that “out” trans people are a minority in thedas. so i’m not saying that this is something easy for your average guy to get hold of. that’s where you can feed it into backstory. are they powerful and connected enough that they could find specialists willing to go beyond the ordinary? or do they have underground connections to hidden apostate healers, whose only priority is what helps (or perhaps just how much you’re willing to pay)? do they belong to a culture that might not be restricted by the chantry’s norms about gender or magic, like the dalish or the rivaini? or do they belong to a mage-focused community or order, who among themselves do whatever they like? endless options

some might be referring to a line in dai from krem, a trans man, where you can ask him about potentially changing his body with magic and he essentially says he wouldn’t let magic that could do that anywhere near his body, though when he was younger he might have dreamed about the possibilities. firstly, krem is absolutely not the gold standard for trans representation and nobody should care about being flexible from what bioware put out a decade ago. secondly, krem is a random mercenary who knows one (1) mage, who spends the entire time insisting she’s not a mage. i very much doubt he’s the no. 1 source for what might be magically possible in this or any regard

also ultimately, and i cannot express this enough, you can do whatever you want forever. it could be absolutely fundamentally impossible in-world somehow and it would still not be that serious to be “unrealistic” in the dragon video games. don’t let anyone discourage you from making the character you want to make. it being an option makes it canonically part of thedas, end of. they put it in the game and nobody bitching about it can take it out

[dangerous-advantage]

writing warm-up

prompt: mikey, raph, and leo complain about the heat. time taken: 43:04 (oops) word count: 452

"Urgh," Leo groaned. "It's so hot."

The turtles were splayed out across the concrete top of a building, laying on their stomachs and sides. The sky above was an unyielding blue, filtered through the thin layer of smog that offered nothing but a distinct, smoky aftertaste to each breath.

Billboards buzzed and blinded, advertising restaurant chains and insurance. 'Have a coke and a smile!' 'Fly the friendly skies of United.' 'Great Wolf Lodge -- Bringing joy to families. All together.'

The sound of midday traffic faded into the backdrop of the city, voices shouting back and forth mixing with sirens in the distance. Up here, the sun beat down on their shells with little care for it's burn. The wind they had hoped to find high up on the rooftops was stubbornly absent, nothing more than a few half-baked attempts at a breeze.

"It's been three hours, he has to be done by now," Leo whined.

"I dunno, Leo," Raph replied, fanning himself with a large, red sensu fan. A dragon in shining black ink weaved across it's folds as if scaling a mountain, jaw outstretched in a yawn. "You know how Dee gets when he's doin' tech installation. A single misstep and we get a repeat of The Incident of '14."

A collective shudder passed through the group.

"I see your point," Leo admitted, rolling onto his stomach. "But also-- you couldn't even let me take my comic book? I'm right in the middle of "Jupiter Jim: Return to Shiroshi!"

"The sooner we got out, the better," Raph stated. He dipped his chin in a solemn nod.

"He'd better be installing a new air conditioner," Leo grumbled, but offered nothing more, languishing in dramatic silence.

"Hey!" Mikey piped up, sitting up. He'd been watching the street from above, arms crossed beneath his chin. "I know what we could do!"

Raph and Leo glanced over.

Mikey pointed over the edge. "Let's go to the aquarium!"

"Urgh, no thanks," Leo groaned. "Right now, the only thing I want to see swimming is myself."

"And plus, we don't have our disguises," Raph added. "Sorry, buddy."

Mikey deflated a little, drawing Leo's eye.

"Hey, wait a minute," Leo said, sitting up. "That's not a bad idea! Why don't we go swimming?"

"That sounds great, Leo, but uh, where exactly?" Raph asked. "Unless you're looking to take a dip in the Hudson, we're not exactly spare any secluded beaches."

"Actually," Leo mused, "I was thinking something a little more..."

"Biocompatible?" Mikey quipped.

"Flashy?" Raph deadpanned.

Leo's mouth took on a slight curve, fingers across the hilt of one of his katanas. Glancing across the street, he set his eyes on one of the billboards.

"How about... splashy?"

(@thecoralkids i have no fucking clue why, but it ate your ask before i could finish answering it, so i'm just making a whole 'nother post lmao. thanks for the ask!! <3)

[dragonsholygrail]

I know that dominating and intimidating monsters with a nice little sarcastic streak are hot and all, we love them and wanna fuck them, but can I also get some nerd monsters?

Like I just want a little nerd. I also want monsters who are just total dorks over their special interests and they share that with you in their own excitable ways.

Minotaur bf who’s a total dork over puzzles and games. You’ll come out into the living room at midnight, seeing the bed was empty, and you’ll find him sitting under the singular light of the dining table. Totally hunched over his almost finished puzzle that he started earlier that day. Then during game nights he’s an absolute best. You swear he’s the most competitive monster you’ve ever met. Winning round after round, chasing that high until he finally snaps and throws the board game off the table and you on it so he can celebrate his victory properly.

Orc bf who’s a fanatic about collecting weapons. He has all sorts of antique guns and swords. Many that you don’t even remember the name of and yet you can recite its entire history bc your bf will drone on and on about it. Whenever he gets a new weapon he gives you an entire tour of his collection room, showing you how he’s moved everything around to highlight his new weapon. You can’t help but find him painstakingly hot as he handles it and you make your interest known to him. His eyes darken, catching onto your meaning and suddenly you’ve replaced the weapon on the platform but he quickly returns it to its place as he fucks you with the handle, rambling about its many uses.

Dragon bf who’s hyperfixated on the quality of jewels and gold. He’s studied the art of jewelry making and blacksmithing. He can tell you the grade of a diamond just by glance, not even needing equipment to check. He loves to combine his two favorite things the most. You and the rest of his treasures. Adorning you with only his finest jewels and nothing else. Liking most how they barely cover anything up yet make your body shine like the angel you are. He almost can’t help himself as he throws you down onto his hoard and ruts into you, watching the jewels sway and bounce on your delectable body.

Werewolf bf who’s a complete gym bro and knows everything there is to know about fitness. He knows the perfect forms to every exercise you could think of, he’s memorized all the benefits to each individual piece of equipment, and he can tell you how best to maximize your time in the gym. Not that he ever would, respecting your level of interest or disinterest in the gym. He knows it’s more his thing and he’s happy you simply coming along with him to use the sauna for members only… and their guests. He loves the burn and the freedom of the run as he works out and releases that energy. But what he loves more is coming into the empty sauna after he’s done and making you both work up a real sweat as he takes you on the bench, the wet squelch of your joining bodies echoing off the walls.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer

859 words

Steve watches a lot of people. He sees girls as their eyes linger on him. He sees some boys do the same. 

If Tommy caught them, he’d probably do what he always does; humiliate them, hit them. He’s always been a bit protective of him. Steve doesn’t know why. He’s known Tommy since middle school because their lockers were next to each other since they were assigned alphabetically. It’s been like that every year since then, too. 

Sometimes he wonders what his best friend would do if he stopped averting his gaze from places it shouldn’t be yet always strays to. 

More and more lately he finds himself watching someone in particular. 

Steve has to be careful. He can’t let his gaze linger and he has to make sure his face stays neutral, almost as if he’s looking through him and not at him. He forces himself to laugh when someone cracks a joke about The Freak as if Steve isn’t one himself. 

He knows he’s a hypocrite - a coward. He wishes he could be more like Eddie. Just be himself and not care about judgment or criticism. 

It’s his biggest dream and greatest fear. 

Steve’s seat in the cafeteria conveniently (strategically) puts Eddie directly in his line of sight. Aside from the singular elective they share, it’s the only time Steve gets to see him. He’s only been watching him since school came back after winter break and he’s captivated. 

He wishes he had somewhere to expel all of the thoughts he hoards in his brain like a dragon does gold. (Something Steve only knows because he - like a stalker - saw a book Eddie was carrying around for a week or so and checked it out of the library himself as soon as it was available. On the log card inside the cover, E. Munson was written a few times along with some other names.)

He gets an idea on Valentine's Day when he opens his locker after last period and a couple of pieces of paper fall to his feet. Steve watches as Tommy picks one up and coos, “Someone’s got an admirer.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and snatches the paper. He doesn’t necessarily care what these girls have written to him, but he feels weird letting anyone else see something that was intended for his eyes only. 

Tommy only snickers and pats him on the shoulder a few times in approval. Steve puts the valentines in his backpack to look at when he gets home. He zones out as Tommy starts talking again - something about taking Carol Perkins to Benny’s. 

At home, Steve reads the cards with a furrowed brow. He doesn’t want to be ungrateful given these girls are putting themselves out there and making a move on someone they like. It’s just. 

He feels completely detached from it all. None of the messages are personal. They could have been given to anyone.

He - somewhat guiltily - throws them away. 

The next day, Steve excuses himself during morning practice and slips a piece of paper into a beat-up locker.

Eddie you’re really pretty i wish i could tell you to your face -H

He signed the note with his last initial to be a bit more inconspicuous and perhaps give him some plausible deniability lest he be found out. He’s sure he’s being too precautious - paranoid? - but it gives him peace of mind nonetheless. He couldn’t imagine the dreadful things that would happen if someone traced this back to him. He’d have to run away. 

He’d have to kill himself. 

As much as he wants to, Steve doesn’t hang around Eddie’s locker to see his reaction. Though he does think about it all morning. They don’t have class together until later in the day. When the lunch bell rings, Steve has to force himself to make his way through the halls at an acceptable pace and pats himself on the back when the cafeteria is mostly full when he strides in.

He takes his place at the table where all of the more athletically inclined people tend to congregate and takes a deep breath.

When he chances a look, Eddie is already at the head of his table. He seems quieter than normal. Steve’s always been good at reading people and he can tell the difference between a good quiet and a bad quiet. Eddie’s quiet in a bad way. 

He languidly flips through a book with a faraway contemplative look. 

Steve looks away with a ghost of a frown on his face. 

He tries again the next day. 

Eddie i like your hair is it as soft as it looks? p.s. you didn’t look happy yesterday, sorry if it was my fault -H

That day at lunch, Steve doesn’t look at Eddie as frequently as he usually would, which is unfortunate. 

Eddie has taken to scanning the lunchroom with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest and despite him being affronted, Steve can’t help but think he’s kinda cute. 

He smiles to himself and tries to listen to his friends for once to aid in avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

two

[room-surprise]

hi! i was wondering if in dunmeshi, before falin was eaten by the dragon and before present events, laios and his party were earning money for k*lling monsters in the dungeon? i don't understand if someone was paying them, how they were making money and how it worked

I want to write a proper, thorough reply to this with citations to specific references and mentions in the story, but uh, a tree fell on my house so I've been a bit too busy to do that lmao.

BUT, to give an incomplete answer:

Yes, adventurers get paid for work they do inside of the dungeon, or, they just harvest monsters/plants/treasure that they find. The dungeons are a kind of boom town, similar to a gold or silver rush, which means that the entire local economy is based on people trying to extract wealth from the dungeon, since it's dangerous but easy work, anyone can try to do it with very little resources, and the potential for profit is huge.

Someone with almost no money could, potentially, go into the dungeon and walk away with enough money to start a business, or buy a house or a boat. If they don't die. If they're lucky. Desperate people cling to the hope that they will be one of the lucky ones who become insanely wealthy.

Based on things Kui's told us in the manga and the extra materials, we know:

You pay a fee or a toll to be allowed to go into the dungeon. Access is controlled by the local government. Some people avoid this, like Senshi and the orcs since they just live in the dungeon and avoid leaving.

Many people die, give up, or fail to accomplish anything useful in the dungeon. These people probably generate a good, steady income for the island, since they pay fees but don't have to be rewarded. The lure of trying to strike it rich keeps huge hoards of people flowing in steadily. Most money in boom towns is generated by all the people who are trying and failing to get rich buying things from local people (food, supplies, lodging).

When a dungeon first appears, it is full of easy to harvest gold and treasure. "Gold peeling" is how Laios and Falin started out, and it's literally going into the dungeon and peeling gold off of the walls and statues, and taking any easy to transport treasure with you.

Various tasks need to be done in the dungeon to keep it safe, clean and accessible, and all of these result in a person either being paid by the lord of the island, or the person who they have saved. Killing dangerous monsters, finding people who have died and taking their corpses to the resurrection office, reporting changes to the dungeon, discovering new paths, etc.

When gold and treasure that is easy to find starts to run out, people turn primarily to harvesting monsters. They are probably paid a bounty for every monster they can prove they killed (bring back some body part that a monster only has one of, like a tail), and then they can also sell anything else they harvested from the monster in the market (meat, the rest of the hide, horns, teeth, claws.)

You want the dungeon to stay safe with a well-managed monster population to prevent something like Utaya from happening.

But if you kill too many monsters, now that the treasure is gone, there won't be any profit reason for people to go into the dungeon anymore, and your economy will collapse.

So you need to manage the dungeon and keep the monster population high, but not too high. This is what the Shadow Lord was complaining about. He thinks that if they evacuate the dungeon the expensive monsters they are currently harvesting may stop manifesting/spawning/being born, and all that will be left to harvest is mushrooms and slimes, which are not worth a lot of money.

Laios' group had an assignment from the island lord to try and find the giant doors on the 6th floor that nobody had been able to get past. That was what they were trying to do when they ran into the red dragon and Falin got eaten!

Despite everything, at that time Laios' party was the number one team on the island, capable of going the deepest into the dungeon.

Kabru's team is also considered pretty good, despite how often we see them dying - this should tell you how bad many of the teams that go in are! Most of them don't accomplish much or anything... Just like a boom town, where most miners go into debt trying to find gold, and only a few strike it rich.

This is what Rin is talking about in her first appearance, when she scolds Kabru for being too modest around other adventurers. She wants those other people to know that they are not going into the dungeon for profit and that they're not like the rest of them, dream-chasing fools hoping to make a payday.

She's offended anyone would mistake them for people like that, meanwhile Kabru would rather keep their motivations obscure and not advertise that they're in the dungeon on a moral crusade, not a financial one.

It should also be noted that the dungeon has a lot of criminal activity going on inside of it, because it's not well monitored and it's easy to conceal your activities. There's also a population of people who can "no longer live on the surface" for various reasons, such as being wanted criminals, exiles hiding to avoid vigilante justice, people too poor to leave because they wasted all their money trying to get rich and now they can't afford to live on the surface, or leave the island.

Essentially there is a population of homeless people living in the dungeon, eating anything they can scavenge, begging and stealing to stay alive. This could even be part of the taboo on eating monsters in the dungeon - that's something poor and desperate people do, and doing it is seen as a sign of how low Laios' party has fallen.

This is also why Kabru is so worried about the Touden party: their financials are a mess, but they keep going into the dungeon. Why? People think they are good, but maybe they're secretly criminals? Are they on the run from the law? Kabru has no idea, since "they just really love monsters and this is fun" is not a motivation ANYONE ELSE ON EARTH HAS.

The Toudens can't even say "we're monster researchers trying to write a book on monsters." They're just hobbyists, they just like them a lot. Kui tells us that Laios was encouraged to become a monster researcher but the studying was too intense for him.

It would be like finding out someone who works in a coal mine that kills 80% of the miners doesn't actually care about being paid, they just loooove coal and want to be around coal all the time.

[werecreature-addicted]

hear me out right. Dragon women- dragon women with scales and body warmth perfect for napping with, dragon lady that does not mind pressing too warm hands onto your belly during ur period, calling you her treasure ! Also I love ur other works :!!!!

Big imposing dragon woman who squeals in delight when you put on little fashion shows for her. She has quite a collection of finery, expensive gowns, and furs that you could never dream of affording on your own. Of course, her favorite thing to see you dressed in is Gold. Sometimes she dresses you in nothing but gold jewelry and pounces on you, fucking you on top of her hoard.

Calling her "warm" would be an understatement. She's a space heater. It's lovely during the winter months when crawling into bed with her is like crawling under blankets that are fresh out of the dryer. it's a nightmare in summer, however. You wake up drenched in sweat, clothes sticking to your skin.

She suggests you just sleep naked as if that would help. You'll only wake up with a forked tongue between your legs instead of in a puddle of sweat.

if you're on your period she would of course be happy to be your heating pad, her hands are yours, so put them wherever you want. Also, consider, baths with a dragon girlfriend, the water would never get cold even if you spent hours in there together. Hot stone massages whenever you please. She lives to spoil you, so get creative.

[madwomansapologist]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons of the BG3 companions and a dragon bloodline sorcerer tav? Especially their reactions to their more dragon like tendencies like hoarding things or their wings when they level up (draconic sorcerers get wings at lvl 14 table top and 11 in bg3 ) that would be great ❤️

bg3 companions with a draconic sorcerer!tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: How would they react to their leader as a draconic sorcerer?

warnings: austim be danmed my girl can study about dragons (lae'zel).

note: that made me want to play as a draconic in the future. thanks for your request, i hope you like it!

Lae'zel

You got her attention immediately. All other races are as alien to a githyanki as themselfs are for those across Faêrun, but she knew a lot about draconics still. A interest of hers that she wasn't able of shutting down, don't matter how efficient and practical she achieved to be.

She always had a soft spot for dragons. A gith can't waste its time dreaming, but who can control it? She wanted so bad to be a dragon rider. When she learned there were races of people who descended from dragons, it was only natural she would want to learn about them.

Upon meeting you, part of her brain was just trying to analize. To learn from what type of dragon you descended. Her interest on you was purely academic.

She wondered if you had noticed how possessive you are. Lae'zel knows you're one of the most selfless people she ever met, the amount of times you lose something so someone could be safe... and still, you are so possessive.

You would kill Cazador with your bare hands and bring Astarion his head, but would never let him use one of your necklaces. Once she heard you hissing because he touched your things.

Exploring Baldur's Gate, everyone got stronger. When your wings evolved, Lae'zel seemed allured by them. So intricate and strong. Beautiful. A sign of your effort and talent. You deserved them.

"Just another proof of your strenght, zhak vo'n'ash duj. Our enemies will tremble before you. I already do."

Shadowheart

Something about you felt... familiar. Like she already knew you. Maybe she did. Or perhaps it was someone familiar. Maybe it was just the highs from being saved from a nautiloid. Still, Shadowheart couldn't help but to take a liking to you.

She never had a draconid friend, not that she remember at least, so it took her a bit to get used to the differences. It's impossible not to bring attention upon your group with your height and wide body. The teeth were certainly something she was highly aware.

Shadowheart thought it was enduring how you would always ended with the party's gold on your pockets. You say you will deal with the finances, and you really do that and do it well, but she knows mostly it's because you need to have it near you.

When your wings were strong enough, she would always find an excuse to hug you. It was so warm to feel your wings around her body. Shadowheart feels so save between your arms. So at peace.

"Before you I thought I knew what true embrace felt like. I was wrong. Thank you, my sweetest lover. For opening my eyes."

Astarion

Your size was intimidating. You could be an awful obstacle for his safety, but gladly you were kinder than Astarion could expect. You were way more than Astarion could ever expect.

After a while, it was interesting to learn more about you. So wide, and still so delicate. So scary, and yet so good. So moral, and yet so capable of violence.

For a draconic, it was a bit cliche that your go-to spells were fire ones. And he made sure to tell you that.

Once Astarion saw your wings, for some reason Astarion felt... proud. It just felt right for you to be rewarded after everything you did to them. To him. And it also made you look even more alluring.

"Another fireball, darling? Really? In this tiny room? Alright. Whatever feels right to you."

Gale

It was incrible to have another magic bender in the party! There are a few differences in styles and in the path you both want to go down, but at the end you both share the same goal.

Either as a student or as a natural vessel, the weave conects you both. It feels lovely to have someone who can see how the entire world moves because of it. To have someone to go for when doubts about new spells pop up, or that understands that he can't spend a long time in the battle field. Someone that just understands.

Gale was so curious about the limits of your body. Merely academic curiosity! He meet a few draconics before, but never he spend such a long time beside one.

It was mesmerizing to see you sleep in a nest. Not really one, but basically a nest. Everything looks so comfortable. So you. The best blankets, your favorite jewels, some gold.

Gale Dekarios is a student before all. And you quickly became his favorite subject.

"Don't they make you trip, my love? Ah, I see, your body was made for those, dare I say, beautiful pair of wings. If you ever feel the need to rest while you get used to them, just say the word."

Wyll

You weren't the first draconic Wyll befriended. Your race may be not so common in some parts of Faêrun, but he is not one to be surprised by your needs and habilities. Wyll is always ready to help you, don't matter what.

You need more space at camp, every armor needs to be wide enough to fit your wings, swords can't be tiny so your handle turns weak. Wyll is just waiting for you to need him so he may act.

The hoarding turned into a problem so quickly. Every damn thing "could be necessary". Forks? Rotten watermelons? Half-eaten apples??? And don't you try to say those are culture differences. Those are problems.

Once someone aimed at your wings during a fight. You barely were able to see the energy rays before their body burned to ashes.

"The Blade stands at your side, dear one. My duty is with your safety."

Karlach

Our girl on fire saw more dangerous things than a dragon's bloodline. Still, it was good to see a good fighter. She has the muscles, and you the brains. A perfect duo, one could say.

She thought was sweet your tendencies. How you wrap your tail around your companions that are being threatened. Or how the glow of jewels can make you break your neck just for a glance.

Karlach loves the fact you are also build bigher, just like her. It's good to not have to look down at someone, or to not break her back in a attempt to be at the same high as you.

She got so scared when your wings evolved. She didn't knew it was something that could happen to draconics that turned really strong. For a whole minute, she thought you went through some sort of body horror kinda of shit. She knows a lot about it, so it was really good to hear your explanation.

"Fucking gods, soldier! You almost lost me there. Thought my heart would fucking explode."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[scoops-stevie-archive]

@outpastthebrakers posted a thing about hospital security guard eddie and er nurse steve and @zerokrox-blog sent in a prompt for a steddie med school au, but despite working in a hospital, i don't know anything about med school other than it's 4 years of schooling and 4 years of residency, so i couldn't deliver on that part unfortunately. but i hope yall enjoy regardless!

"Are you gonna actually do something tonight, or are you just gonna sit there and look handsome like always?"

Steve pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up from the computer and rolls his eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know," he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "This is the third time you've been down here in the last," Steve checks his watch, "hour. Don't you have a parking lot to patrol or something?"

Eddie only laughs and hooks his thumbs into his belt loops. "Bold of you to assume they let me drive the car, big boy. Nah, Preston drives and I get to be the passenger princess I was born to be."

Steve snorts. He definitely doesn't pay attention to the looks the other nurses are giving them.

"Besides," Eddie continues. He leans his elbows on the counter of the nurse's station. "It's your fault I'm down here so often in the first place."

"Oh really?" Steve raises an eyebrow and doesn't hide the fact that he's checking out the tattoos on Eddie's forearms that are showcased by the short sleeves of his uniform shirt framing his biceps. Hospital uniform policy says minimal jewelry but Eddie's never been one for conformity so his fingers are adorned with rings of different size.

(Hospital policy also says that security staff are, under no circumstances, to physically harm violent patients or visitors, but that policy doesn't say anything about Eddie threatening to dole out a knuckle sandwich or two.)

Eddie tracks Steve's gaze and smirks. He taps his fingers on the counter in a rolling rhythm, his black nail polish accenting the flashiness of his rings.

Eddie leans in a little more (which isn't necessary because the counter is a foot above the desk Steve is sitting at) and almost purrs, public decency be damned, "Because, princess, if it weren't for you, I'd be stuck up in my office doing something boring, like reading." He places a hand on his chest. "As much as I love my dragon hoard of books, seeing your pretty face for twelve hours is a much better option."

Steve blushes and tries to sputter out a response, but the radio clipped to Eddie's shoulder goes off.

Eddie confirms the call and groans, dropping his head.

The moment is all Steve needs to compose himself. "Oh no," he frowns, insincere but his tone teasing. "You have to actually do your job. How awful."

Eddie mouths wordlessly back at him, mocking, but then grins and raps his knuckles on the counter once more, giving him a wink. "Don't miss me too much, sweetheart."

Steve tries to not watch as Eddie walks down the hallway, but god those pants fit him so well. He's always had a thing for tiny, perky asses.

"Steve."

Steve jumps and does not yelp like a child. He turns to see his colleague Jen. Jen's been working in the ER for a few years and is a spitfire with a heart of gold.

"You've been flirting with him for months and neither of you have made a real move on each other. What the hell? The betting pool Trent and Brett have is getting shallow."

The tips of Steve's ears start to burn. "Betting pool?!" He turns his chair around to the guys mentioned and they're very much making an effort not to look at him. "You guys are betting on us hooking up? How old are you, twelve?"

"Stevie," Jen sighs in a dramatic way that reminds Steve of Robin and it makes his heart clench. "You have turned down every single person in the vicinity since you started. Eddie is obviously into you and you're into him. I'm going to say this as nicely as I can because you're my favorite out of all the graduates: Please jump this man's bones so I can get my $50."

"My love life is only worth $50 to you?"

"Steve."

Steve groans and hits his head on the desk.

xxxxxxxx

Eddie outright moans when 7am rolls around and he's finally able to take off his uniform. He shoves the bulletproof vest and his holster belt into his locker and his shirt and pants into his dufflebag to be washed later.

God, he doesn't even want to think about laundry.

After he got the call that pulled him away from Steve, it was like the floodgates opened. Two code violets, one report of a car circling the ASU parking lot suspiciously, and three code browns that ended up being patients sneaking outside for a smoke.

He didn't blame them. With the night he had, he's regretting his decision to quit.

Eddie walks through the automatic doors at the entrance of the hospital after he's changed back into his civvies, and those regrets immediately disappear and his mood brightens when he sees who's waiting for him.

Wayne's van is parked in the drop off zone and the sliding door is opened. A bright grin stretches across Eddie's tired face as he gets closer to his little girl, happily squirming in her car seat and drinking juice out of her bottle.

"Da-dee!"

Eddie lets his bag slide off his shoulder and onto the ground but Wayne picks it up and puts it next to Emma's diaper bag.

"Hi, baby!" Eddie coos as he unbuckles her. "Good morning!" He kisses her cheek and buries his nose in her hair, a chesnut brown like her dad's, and cuddles her close. "I missed you so much. Did you have fun with papaw last night?"

"She fussed a little after you left but I got her settled," Wayne says. He holds up a McDonald's bag. "Decided she was gonna get an early start this morning so I figured yall could use some breakfast."

Eddie's stomach chooses the right time to growl and his mouth waters. Last he ate was a TV dinner around one in the morning. Eddie tells Wayne to pick a spot in the visitor's parking lot and then takes Emma back inside the hospital with him.

He doesn't see Steve when he gets to the ER.

"Hey, Steve hasn't left yet, has he?"

A nurse, Jen, Eddie thinks her name is, looks at him and immediately starts cooing at the (admittedly adorable) baby in his arms that's looking around with curious eyes and drinking her juice.

"Steve's in the locker room getting changed, he's just about to clock out. Who is this little cutie?"

Eddie grins and bounces Emma lightly. "This is Emma, my little monster. She gets all her cuteness from her other dad."

Jen's face falls for a second but before Eddie can ask what's wrong, Emma squeals way too loudly for a hospital at 7:30 in the morning and almost throws her bottle in her excitement.

"Da! Da!"

Steve looks just about as tired as Eddie feels and he can practically hear their bed calling their names. But Steve's eyes light up when he hears who's calling for him and a sort of puppy-like grin takes over his face, dopey and happy.

Emma is already reaching for him and Steve quickly strides over and takes her in his arms.

"Good morning, lovebug," Steve says, enveloping her in the gentlest hug he can muster. He breathes in her natural baby smell and closes his eyes.

Eddie's hand goes to his waist to keep him awake and Steve hums, opening his eyes and leaning into give Eddie a peck on the cheek.

"Morning, baby," he murmurs, all traces of teasing and flirting from the night before gone and replaced with open affection.

Steve doesn’t need to look at Jen to know her jaw is probably on the floor.

Eddie returns the kiss on Steve's lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Wayne’s waiting with breakfast outside. Seems like little miss princess here decided she was gonna wake up early, early today." He tickles Emma's tummy as he says this, causing her to laugh around her binky and try to push his fingers away.

"Food sounds so good right now," Steve practically whines.

Jen is still staring between the three of them. Steve smiles sheepishly.

"Sorry you didn't win your money. I should’ve told you, Eddie and I have been together for years. Emma's our daughter." He shifts Emma in his arms and gives everyone a wave. "I'll see you guys later."

He and Eddie walk out of the hospital hand in hand. They eat their breakfast in the parking lot and Wayne follows them to their house to stay up with Emma while Steve and Eddie get some much needed sleep.

When they go back into work later that evening, they fess up to everyone and Eddie gives Jen $50 right from his own wallet.

[thegnomelord]

I have had a thought.

What if dragons purr when you rub their horns..

Dragon!Price x Gaz and/or Nikolai,,,

Hehdhehehe

Hmmm, I don't usually write character x character but i'll give it a try so tell me if this sucks lol

CW: SFW, Price x Gaz, horn rubbing, purring, monster cod au, soft short and sweet. 1224 words. Cross posted to Ao3

Kyle is a good soldier. Strong. Competent. Reliable. Though the fears of losing him on every mission still linger, they're eased by the fact that Price never has to worry that his sergeant will stumble in those crucial moments when a second of hesitation can be the difference between life and death. Never has to worry that his Gaz will think of himself as expendable and rush into the hailstorm of bullets. . .

Kyle is also a menace.

Especially when he's perched on his desk and giving John the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. "Please, captain, just one time?" The imp of a harpy even has the gall to flutter his eyes, looking at him through his lashes because he knows how the light of the setting sun hits his eyes juuuust right to make the brown glitter like gold and amber jewels.

"Kyle." Price stresses. This really isn't the time to indulge his sergeant's need for mischief when he's got a week's worth of backlogged paperwork to go through.

"Sir." Kyle throws his tone back at him, but the way the word rolls off his tongue and he adds the smallest chirp to the end of it makes something inside him stir. "Come on mate, I promise it'll only take five minutes." Kyle's wings spread out so he can display the shininess of his feathers - peacocking transcends species it seems - the mundane dark color turned to that of rich obsidian by the sun.

"It never takes just 'five minutes'." He tries to argue, but the usual commanding rumble in his voice is gone. Price knows he's fighting a losing battle from the way his fingers itch for him to burry them into the smooth feathers and preen Kyle's wings until his treasure croons.

Kyle knows this. He's unable to hide the arrogant look in his eyes when he bites his bottom lip and leans back, muscles tensing, because he knows how such a display of his body will make John's eyes automatically roam across his hard earned muscles. "Pretty please." Kyle says, tail feathers gently twitching side to side.

Both of them know Price never stood a chance.

"That was dirty." John sighs, dejected by his own weakness. The distance between them is small, but Price purposely takes slow steps. Kyle eagerly scoots back on the desk and spreads his legs for John to fit between, hands raising to hold his biceps as Price braces his palms against the desk next to Kyle's hips.

Kyle snorts. "As if you've never stooped lower cap." He spreads his wings to wrap around Price, soft feathered wing wrists bumping against his back.

John just growls lowly in response. He doesn't resist his body's natural desire to reciprocate, to reaffirm the claim over his hoard. The atrophied muscles on his right side still ache with phantom pain after all this time, but that doesn't stop him from wrapping his one remaining wing around Kyle. The combination of their wings acts as a shroud from the rest of the world, soft feathers brushing against his green scales and their scents mixing together.

Price treasures these little moments.

The peace only lasts for a few seconds before Kyle ruins it with a grin. "Now come on, give me your horns." He says, not even bothering for Price to tilt his head before Kyle's clever fingers rise up his arms to cup his face, inching closer to where his horns grow out of his skull.

Price promises to himself to hunt down and shoot whichever wanker posted the '101 ways to make a dragon purr like a kitty' on the internet. Ever since Kyle found that blasted instruction manual he's been trying to go through the entire list to verify the information. Price had seen the article in question and had nearly choked when he'd read that the author thought pulling on a dragon's tail could get them any other reaction than an immediate bisection—

Kyle's impatient fingers still just enough to gently scratch the bumpy base of his scalp around the horns. It tingles, and Price isn't able to tell if the tingling sensation is of the good kind or a bad. A small sound rolls from his throat, but that doesn't satisfy Kyle.

"Come on John, sing for me." Kyle repeats the words Price tells him when he's preening him, voice light and just at the edge of taunting. Keeping one hand around his base, Kyle slides the palm of his other hand up the hard bone until he reaches the natural curve of Price's horn. He squeezes gently and moves his hand like he's jerking him off.

"O-oh." Price is grateful he's bracing against the desk because his legs go weak. The sensation of his palm and the pressure of his hand is neither good nor bad, just unfiltered feeling that his brain can't even begin to handle, so it shoots it down his spine like lightning. The buzz of sensation catches on every vertebra and makes his wing quiver, forces his tail to wag like he's some lost puppy.

"Not what I was expecting." Kyle confesses. Price can't see the surprise and wonder on his face as John's eyes close automatically. His head tips forward to rest his forehead on Gaz's chest, brawny biceps tensing to just support his weight and claws digging into the desk with enough force to tear through the wood.

Kyle moves his hands so he's holding Price's horns in both hands. The pale green horns are smooth under his palms besides the occasional scratch or chip in them. Kyle moves his hands with slowly and methodically, changing the pressure he uses on every stroke and paying special attention to the sharp tips of his horns.

That's all it takes to turn John's chest into an geriatric engine. Price manages to groan and mumble a curse under his breath before the only sound leaving his lips is the deep baritone purr. There's no way of stopping it; If Price was in a better mind he would question why the gentle stroking of his horns has him feeling like a puddle of goo but his brain is completely fried from the sensation.

Kyle has heard him purr before but this is different. All the other times his purrs would always be throaty and quiet. Now it feels like the sound is coming straight from the bottom of his chest and, fuck, Kyle can feel it, feel the rumble shake his ribs and the desk beneath him. The sound is loud and unpolished and so raw Gaz feels naked just hearing it.

Kyle can feel his heard beating a mile a minute, his surprise making his hands still just long enough for Price to look up at him. Kyle could die happy after seeing how fucked out Price looks — pupils dilated to the size of plates, panting, red faced, so open and unguarded. Comfortable. With him.

"You've been holding out on me John." Kyle smiles softly, starting to stroke his horns again.

Price purrs even louder, his tail curling around Kyle's leg, managing to pull the claws of one hand from the desk to grip Kyle's thigh and pull him closer, draconic hind-brain desperately seeking to get more of that gluttonous pleasure from Kyle's hands.

Safe to say they take longer than five minutes.

[misfortunekeep]

You said the word and now I have been summoned. Inkblade headcanons please???

OISIN HAS BEEN PINING FOR YEARS HE HAD CRUSH SINCE FRESHMAN YEAR AND YOU CAN PRY THAT FROM MY COLD LIMP HANDS

Anyway here's some more headcanon

The first time Oisin saw Adaine, she looks like every princess his family used to tell him they used to kidnap and he understood why then because she looks like all the valuable treasures in motion. Gold spun hair, pearl skin, sapphire eyes, voice like falling jewels, she looks like she should be decked in the finest silk.

Adaine noticed him back as a freshman and wanted to talk to him but things happened and her anxiety got to her and now she kinda has too many in her plate and she forgot the little dragon born boy she wanted to speak in class

When Oisin gets revived he's still a bit of an asshole and Adaine matches that energy

Snarky nerd x snarky nerd gimme

Oisin made a snide remark to her once and she replied something scathing and that's how he found out she can speak Draconic

He learned Elvish cause how could he live knowing she knows what he's talking about when he speaks in Draconic but he can't when she speaks Elvish

They make their own language accidentally by mixing Elvish and Draconic in their bid of trying to confuse each other

She killed someone once in front of him and he's convinced they're dating now

He's still sharp with his tongue but he makes conscious effort not to be to her

Being the target of their scorn is like being a victim of vicious mockery 24/7 dialed up to 11. Their insults are scarily accurate and fascinatingly creative

He gave her a necklace he found in his family hoard that tells her that her magic is fluctuating indicating that she's gonna get a prophecy so she should get ready and she came back from a quest with glasses that enhances his lightning and a built in shield that activates when he's in danger so he's never caught off guard and now they're in a competition to gift each other the best gift.

They somehow ended up with matching protective rings with built in communicator they use solely to periodically insult each other.

I can make up more stories for them in my head and no one can stop meeeee

[rogueddie]

Steve isn't sure what he was expecting a dragon hybrid to look like. Monstrous probably. The last word he expected to think is 'pretty'.

But he is. His long hair that looks so soft, his big doe-eyes, full lips, soft jaw... even the way he tilts his head, looking so curious. The little smirk, the amusement, the glint in his eyes.

And the dragon parts don't make him look anymore monstrous either. They probably should. Massive wings that, even folded behind him, take up so much space with how massive they are. The dark leathery skin and scales climbing around his bare torso, a line of them going down his arm, to his claws.

"Oh, hel-lo," he uses his wings to lift him from where he's sat on the floor, the movement dangerously smooth. "Who do I need to thank for you?"

"What? Oh, uh, no, that, um," Steve stammers, face flushing. He grabs the handle of his sword, feeling a little uncertain. He misses the way the dragons eyes linger on his sword. "I'm not... I'm here as a knight of the Kingdom, to... uh, facilitate, your leave?"

The dragon steps closer, slowly and carefully. "Is that your fancy way of saying that you're here to kill me?"

"I'm not a murderer," Steve draws himself up. "I'm not gonna hurt you unless you force me. Making sure you leave is technically following my orders."

"Technically," the dragon repeats. He hovers, hesitating, before leaning into Steves personal space. "What if I don't want to leave?"

"Why wouldn't you? The people here are assholes to you. There's plenty of towns who'd love a dragon."

"What about my treasure? I'd have to start a new hoard and..." He sighs, looking around at the ruined little castle he's nesting in, full of trinkets and gold and instruments. "This took so long."

"Couldn't you take it with you? Or, uh, I could have it moved?"

"No," the dragon growls, baring his teeth for a moment. He clears his throat after a moment, looks a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I just... I don't like people touching my things."

"Right, no, obviously. Sorry."

The dragons grin only grows as the quiet stretches out, Steve struggling to find something to say.

"I'm Eddie, by the way."

"Huh?"

"Eddie. Kind of. It's the closest way of saying it with the human tongue."

"Oh. Uh, hi? I'm Steve." Steve smiles a little, gives him a little wave.

He's adorable, Eddie shakes his wings a little. Bites his lip to try and stop himself blurting something embarrassing out, but can't stop himself asking, "you wanna stay a little while?"

"Oh, no, I should-"

"Tell the people that you spoke to me for five minutes and it did nothing? Nah, come on. We can chat or something. Think of some excuse on how you so nearly defeated the beast, if only the wily thing hadn't slipped away or whatever."

Steve follows him after a moment, looking over the little room Eddie leads them into. It's covered in softer things, blankets and stuffed furniture.

"Here," Eddie gestures to the big centerpiece loveseat. He perches on a little table, the space already cleared perfectly from other times he's clearly sat there.

Steve unclips his sword before falling back onto the seat. He shifts around to get comfortable, sprawling out. The sight has possessiveness burning through Eddie, Steve fitting perfectly among his treasures.

He stiffens when he looks to Eddie, who watches him with sharp eyes, leaning forward. Something about him looks suddenly dangerous.

"Uh, Eddie? Is this alright?"

"Yeah," Eddies voice is low, hushed. "Yeah, that's perfect."

"You sure? You're looking at me like you want to eat me."

Eddie immediately shakes his head. "No. No, it... I don't want to hurt you. It's..." Eddie looks him over again. "Fuck. Sorry, it's... I want to keep you."

Steve flushes bright red, tries to laugh it off. "What, you'd consider someone like me treasure?"

"You'd be the prettiest," Eddie tries for teasing. But his voice is strained, eyes still just as dangerous and sharp.

"How would that work? Like, keeping me?"

"Don't," Eddies voice cracks. "This... Bad idea. You- you should go."

Steve shifts so he's sat on the edge of the chair, hesitates. "When should I come back? It's... I don't know if any excuse I have will be good enough. They're probably gonna send me back anyway."

Eddie closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. "Steve."

"Right, sorry, I'm leaving."

He grabs his sword before walking quickly out. He doesn't look back until he's outside, immediately spotting Eddie in the window. He tries to wave, but Eddie ducks out of sight.

Logically, Steve knows he should take the warning and run. Come up with some bullshit tale that'll keep the people from bothering Eddie, or something that'll get them to send someone else.

He knows, he understands, that going back would be a bad idea. A really bad idea. Dragons infamously keep people as treasure and finding a dragon that would let someone they see as treasure walk away is unheard of. Steve knows that Eddie wouldn't be able to let him go a second time, not with how obviously he was waring with his instincts.

"Is the dragon dead?" Is the question he's asked as soon as he arrives back.

Steve is already shaking his head, answers without thinking. "Not a killer. I'm going to try to talk to him again tomorrow."

edit: not a part 2 but for those asking for more, I'm slowly making it a full fic on ao3

[recycledraccoon]

May I offer some cheese 🧀 for some Inkblade headcannons? 🥺

Alright. Alright ok.

I've tormented @omamorens with this MULTIPLE TIMES and now I'm inflicting it on a wider audience.

Oisin and Adaine's romance is violent. Anybody unfamiliar with dragonborn courting look in on this and thing it's the MOST toxic thing in the world. Adaine probably recognizes this on some level as SHES not even super familiar with dragonborn culture and courting.

But to Oisin? He is LITERALLY living a childhood fairytale.

And that fairy tale is the story of the Dragon, Princess, and Knight, as told to him as a hatchling, like it was told to his sibling and mother and grandparents and so many others of a dragons bloodline.

Think about it.

Why do Dragons kidnap Princesses? They already live on a mountain of gold and jewels, the few scraps of jewels they could get from a princess pales in comparison and it such a risk to bring that much direct attention from an entire kingdom on yourself, even as an incredibly powerful dragon. What are they going to do with her? Eat her? Let her waste away? A princesses lifespan, elven maidens not included, are a blink of an eye in the face of the lifespan of a Dragon.

There is truly no meaningful reason why a Dragon would kidnap a Princess. It's just not worth the cost and effort for no meaningful reward.

There is only one thing a Dragon can guarantee by kidnapping a princess. And that's summoning knights to come try to take her back.

Dragon courting comes in two major stages.

Combat.

Sharing of hoard.

Dragons are apex predators. They highly valued strength and power. It must be so novel, so intimate to them, to experience the singular intensity that comes with being hunted down. The Dragon becomes the center of the Knights world, their focus. Its all centered on killing them.

Others hunt dragons down all the time to get their hoards, it's what the dragon madness manifests to avenge against. But I don't think it would, because the kidnapping of the princess is an invitation and offer, it is not being stolen.

So they come, they battle, and the truly worthy kill the dragon and take the Princess home. But they always get the dragons hoard too. Sometimes they end up with armor fashioned from the scales of their fallen foe. They go on the rest of their lives known as a Dragonslayer.

To the races of man, this is a story of triumph over evil. Of worthy knights proving themselves and the romance of saving the trapped maiden and being a hero.

To dragons this is a beautifully tragic romance for the ages. The Knight comes and proves themselves as having all the strength and power of a dragon, they are worthy. They take the gold left behind, all the treasures, all the things the Dragon values most, haunted by Dragon Madness they may never even feel the effects of because this was not stolen from the dragon after their demise, this was a gift to a lover. The Knight wears their scales as protection forever after, they are known as Dragonslayer like taking a lovers name after marriage. Their fates and histories are tied together for as long as either of them will be remembered. You can not forget one without forgetting the other.

This is the intimate intertwining of fates forever. Dragons swoon over these tales, when parents of humanoid races tell a fairytale of a romance between the knight and princesses and their mutual foe, the dragons tell their children of the romance eternal of the Knight and their dragon, and the princess who was gracious enough to officiate for them.

And sometimes, Dragons meet their Knights and it ends not in the blood upon steel they crave, but in a tumble of bodies for an even more dangerous fight, breathless and euphoric. And that's how you get Dragonborns.

So Oisin sees Adaine hating him, feels their magic clash and the intensity of her hatred and determination to kick his ass, and he feels closer to his ancestors than ever before, falling into the same trap as all of them on falling in love with the one whose violence you crave. He see's his own blood dripping from Adaine Abernant's sword and the pounding in his heart is enough to shake the world with the intensity of his feelings.

Oh one day there will be softness too, it will not be like this forever, but this is always how it starts for them, and it will never quite leave.

Anyway one day the Rat Grinders and Bad Kids are gonna end up chatting and fairy tales will come up and Oisin will sigh wistfully about the most romantic fairy tales he was told as a hatchling and despite everything those were such formative memories that he holds tenderly in his heart.

"what fairy tales??"

"the romances between the dragons and the knights who kill them?? You know, with the princesses?"

And EVERYBODY is like WTF.

Except Mary Ann.

Mary Ann, also of some type of dragonic heritage, ALSO grew up with these stories and fully agrees with him. Its all very romantic. Gorgug's absolute HATRED of her during Junior year was very attractive.

ALSO the Princess in Adaine and Oisin's story is Boggy.

Boggy is the princess and whenever the frog decides to go hang out with Oisin and Adaine assumes Oisin stole her summon it's playing RIGHT into this fantasy. At some point Oisin thinks he needs to get Boggy a little tiara.

[hobbitsetal]

The Hoard

The year the dragon came had been shaping up to be a bad one. The crops were barely adequate. The deer were skittish, the boar extra fierce, the fish sleepy and hard to reach. The old folks in the village predicted a hard winter, predictions born of fear and grief and anger that boiled down into pessimism. 

Inada, as the village leader, tried to counter such talk, but there was little she could say. The food would be stretched thin at best. The old and the very young were likely to die. All she could do was squirrel away extra portions where she hoped Trovar’s men would not think to look, and pray she could save some lives in the winter.

At the end of the summer, he came. They saw his shadow first: big as a cloud, almost to be mistaken for a cloud’s shadow. But no cloud had those curved wings or that long tail, and they knew what he was before he landed and changed shape and strode into their village. He was tall, dark-haired and golden-eyed, and he was surprisingly young. Inada had sons grown and older than he, she thought. 

Dragons lived to be five hundred years or more. But after all, before one could be five hundred years, one must be ten and twenty and thirty. Perhaps it should not have been so surprising that he looked no more than twenty summers, if he had reached even that many.

They watched, huddling in doorways, stopped at their work, clutching their children, as he walked through the long street and the square in the middle of the village where they traded when the peddler caravans passed through. His arrogantly lifted head swiveled, taking in the shabby village and the silent inhabitants watching him.

What reason could he have for coming to their village? They’d heard of dragons taking over lands, of course. Anywhere west of Elbiss, where they had driven the dragons out and hunted them now with frost weapons and relentless hatred, anywhere else might fall prey to a dragon. Some ate humans. Some enslaved them and forced them to produce whatever the dragon chose to hoard. Some, the less powerful, especially since Elbiss had cast them off six hundred years ago, lived among humans as ordinary citizens. Not every dragon could be a tyrannical ruler, it seemed.

There was nothing in this village to rule over, even if this one meant to be a tyrant. They didn’t have so much as a name for their village. They lived near no mines, gold or ores or jewels. Their forests were not unusually rich with game or fish. No mythic beasts lived near that anyone knew of. They were not renowned for crops or goods. The only unusual feature to their village was the twice-yearly visits from Trovar and his men, but even that was not so remarkable. Small villages with no protector often fell prey to bandits.

So they watched and braced themselves to learn this dragon ate humans. 

He sniffed the air and then turned toward Inada, gold eyes boring into her. “You. You are responsible for this place?”

She curtsied immediately and kept herself from falling to her knees. Better not to kneel. If she had to beg, she wanted someplace to lower herself to. “Yes, my lord.”

“It’s shabby.”

What did he care? Dragons never lived where others did. Still, all she could say was, “Yes, my lord.”

“You are not a knight protector. What are you?”

“I-I am…a weaver?” As with everyone else in the village, she was what was needed at the moment. They all tended little vegetable crops, they all fished, they all wove. Some, like Alma, were better at things like twisting flax fibers together. Some, like old Gregoire, were better at fishing. But they all did whatever needed to be done. They were too tiny to have specialists in the different trades, though she would have liked to have been a weaver.

He snorted impatiently, smoke clouding around his head. “You have those among you young enough to breed. Why does your village not flourish more? Are you lazy?”

Indignation choked her a moment, overriding her fear. Lazy? “We are a tiny village, my lord,” she said. “How can we thrive when those stronger than us come to take the best of what we have?” 

Of all the irony, a dragon demanding why they did not flourish was too bitter to be borne. 

“You have no one at all to stand up for you?” He turned as he spoke, casting the question–the challenge–out to the rest of the village. No one met his eyes.

Inada swallowed down tears and rage together, dropping her own gaze to the dust. “What do you want from us, my lord?” she asked quietly.

What would anger get but a village reduced to ash? What would resistance earn them but bones and perhaps one person left to bury them? Making herself sound humble, making herself bend her head and round her shoulders was not hard when she had done the same for the lesser threat of Trovar and his men.

“Bah,” he said, and turned away. A dozen steps from her took him to a clear space. He leaped into the air and changed as he leapt. The wind from his wings staggered her and sent up a great cloud of dust. 

And then he was gone, leaving them baffled and a little dirtier than they had been. Slowly, the villagers trickled toward Inada, necks craned to track the dragon.

“Will he come back?” Hella asked.

“I don’t know,” Inada said.

A restless murmur ran through the crowd. Eventually, they shuffled away, different scattered groupings muttering the same fears and wonders and answerless questions to each other. Inada went back to weeding her garden with her forehead furrowed. Surely the dragon would not come back. He had strolled through their village for curiosity’s sake and found they had nothing of worth. Surely Batran would protect them from more oppression than they already bent under. She sent up a silent prayer to that effect and resolved to sacrifice something small when she had time.

They saw his shadow a few more times that week. He seemed to be circling around the top of the small mountain that loomed over their village. Once, Old Horace said that Young Horace saw the dragon flying with a boar in its claws. That troubled Inada for a day, until Hella pointed out that perhaps the dragon was in the area only to hunt. That would explain his curiosity and his subsequent lack of interest. After all, there were plenty of boar for one with the stamina and strength to take them down.

Inada had other worries. Trovar was coming. The delicate balance of giving enough to satiate him and keeping enough to survive, of placating without arousing suspicion, weighed on her. Two years ago, his men had found one of her hidden stores and Trovar had been angry with the village. They had beaten her and taken extra food in punishment. The winter had been lean indeed. Last year, she had barely dared to hide anything. Trovar had been more merciful, sensing her defeat. But the village could not afford another winter with as little as he liked to leave.

She daydreamed of a protector. They would send out an appeal and someone would answer. A lord with restless men, inclined to be merciful, or a band of Elbissian warriors eager to deal justice, or better, a group of armed travelers seeking someplace to settle and join.

Foolish fantasies. A lord’s men were as likely to pillage as Trovar’s. Elbissian warriors were concerned only with hunting dragons, whether they offered harm or no. And armed travelers might kill the villagers and take the village for themselves rather than join peaceably.

Young Horace came running one golden day in the autumn to announce breathlessly, “They’re coming!”

Inada uttered a prayer under her breath and tipped a little vinegar into the dust as an offering. Then she strode out to supervise the half-yearly tribute. Bags of grains and dried fruit, casks of fruit wines and fish pickled or dried, racks of animal furs and smoked meats: they laid out what they had for Trovar’s men to take.

They watched the cloud of dust approaching. Then they heard the singing: raucous, bawdy songs, bellowed cheerily. And then Trovar, followed by his men, came out of the woods and strolled toward them. He was of middle height, compact with muscle, with a full beard and dusty clothes that had once been fine. He was quick to smile and he had a taste for pinching women’s buttocks and teasing them. In other circumstances, when she had been young, Inada might have laughed at such liberties even as she slapped his hands away. In these circumstances, at her age, such liberties were a veiled threat.

The villagers huddled in the square. Trovar’s men would wander through their houses, picking what they pleased, while their comrades watched the villagers and made sure no one had thoughts of rebellion. They would sort through the food. And then they would leave again, with their stolen bounty piled high on shoulders and the two pack mules, and the village would be left to face the winter.

Trovar strolled up to Inada and chucked her under the chin. “Inada. Lovely as ever. I swear, you look younger than you did in the spring! All that summer sun has you glowing.”

She looked at some point past his shoulder. “I am older, that is all.”

“Bah, you are younger! You’ve found some unicorn’s horn, haven’t you?”

He teased, she knew he teased, but the question sent a chill down her spine. If they had something precious and kept it back from him, the consequences would be unthinkable. “I have found nothing but more grey hairs.”

He clicked his tongue. “Really, Inada, you must learn to take a compli–Who by Batran’s balls is that?”

Startled, she turned to see what he was looking at. The villagers were parting, scattering, for the dragon. He strode through, gold eyes locked on Trovar. Smoke hazed the air behind him. “You,” he said, and his voice was a growl. “You take from them?”

Trovar snatched for his sword. “What is it to you?” he snapped back.

Inada backed away from him, huddling into Hella. 

“You are done,” the dragon announced. “Leave.”

The sword rang as it came free of the scabbard. Trovar was not a man used to denial. Trovar was a man used to force and to taking what he pleased. Trovar was a man who died by dragon flame, foolish to the end. 

The dragon did not waste time watching his ashes fall to the ground, as the stunned villagers did. He turned his gaze on Trovar’s men, lips peeled back from his teeth. His teeth were pointed, sharp: predator’s teeth. “Leave,” he said again.

They dropped what they held. They bumped into each other in their hurry to flee. The three archers among them made no efforts to string their bows or reach for their arrows. Empty-handed and silent, they scurried away while the wind blew their leader into the dust of the road.

Inada looked at the dragon and tried to think of something to say. Thanks, perhaps, or ask him what he wanted of them, or– But her throat stayed closed. The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air.

The dragon surveyed them, chin ticked up slightly. “I am Lord Cazadan Isvrayne, and this is now my village. You will build me a dwelling on top of the mountain, according to my specifications, and then you will build me a hosting house. I will not permit bandits or miscreants to harm you. Your village will thrive under my rule. Am I plain?”

Glances flickered among the villagers. There was a catch. There must be a catch. Why would a dragon choose to protect them for nothing more than the cost of building a home and a guest-house?

“My lord–” Inada began, voice wavering.

His gaze settled on her. “You are a tiny village,” he said. “Unimpressive. But I will make you thrive. My kind will see how well I can manage and protect, and your kind will see the benefits of my rule. The best of what you have will grow your village.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, voice faint.

He nodded once. “Send someone up to the mountaintop with me to begin marking out where my dwelling will be. The rest of you, put this food away. The flies will get to it.”

And then he leapt and changed and sent dust everywhere as he winged away, heading for the mountaintop.

“What was that?” Hella whispered.

“I do not know,” Inada whispered back. “But…Jola should go to the mountaintop.” Jola knew much about building houses. Her grandfather had been the most skilled carpenter their village had ever seen.

It would be a month before the village understood what had become of them, a month before shock wore off and they settled into the mundanity of working for a dragon. In that month, they let themselves feel cautious joy over their sudden abundance. Old Horace spearheaded the efforts to weatherproof their homes. Inada supervised parceling out the food properly and setting the excess aside into stores. They might even have enough to trade in the spring, she thought.

It was a month before they all fully realized that they had become a dragon’s hoard, and that Lord Cazadan would protect them with his life.

[hazelfoureyes]

your works are gold, and i like a dragon, hoard them and check over them frequently.

if you have no fans, i am dead and so far gone that not even my soul remains.

still knawing at the bars of my enclosure,

Crow-Anon

This could be us but I’m actually just several opossums with a wifi connection and an old iPhone :(

Thank you my dear smut dragon 💖😭 I hope the new works I’m writing right now make you so feral you snap the bars of your enclosure and do zoomies around the Horny Deer Cult shrine 👉🏼👈🏼

🐉Dragons hoard of Hazbin Smut👑

[taki-yaki]

Draconic Sorcerer Tav Headcanons

not an anon request this time but this was sitting on my wip for ages so I'll put it out now. Hope my fellow draconic sorcerer/dragonborn(?) fans.

As a draconic sorcerer, the blood that runs in your veins is filled to the brim with the magical potency of such grand beasts. The scales that lie across your skin are a clear sign to others of your ancestry.

Despite the power within you, it can’t transform you into a dragon but rather changes the physical appearance of your body, from the tips of your fingers becoming sharp-like claws, to your fangs ready to tear anything or one that stands in your path.

Many upon hearing of such graphic descriptions would tend to avoid your kind, but not Astarion, he’s enamoured with the way you look and act. 

Astarion would be interested in your draconic tongue, listening as you speak to Gale and Lae’zel with each syllable hissing off the end of your tongue, akin to a growling beast, in comparison to the soft-spoken tone of elvish that he speaks in.

Later he tries to ask Lae’zel and Gale to teach him some draconic phrases, under the guise of wanting to learn such a uniquely rare language. Gale would attempt to teach him more simple dull phrases whilst Lae’zel would teach him phrases that mainly translated to battle cries. But soon he would tire of the dull lectures. Deciding to just stick to common instead.

After your first night together in the forest during the tiefling party, he would go around bragging about how he got to “ride” a dragon first before poor lae’zel. She���d quickly rebuttal with the threat to slice off his head, lest he continue with his antics.

When he drinks your blood, apart from getting a slight boost to his magic, the flavour changes based on your blood ancestry. acid has a slightly sweet-sour aftertaste, fire has a spicy flare, lighting leaves a jolting taste on his tongue and cold creates a slight tingly numb sensation. 

Other elements of your ancestry also affect your day-to-day life, from fire blood making you his personal hot water bottle, full of blood. Or your cold blood, creates a faint aura of ice upon your skin, causing you to have Gale create an enchanted heated blanket to keep you both warm.

Using your wellspring of magic within your body, you attempt to twist the arcane magic that flows in your blood in an attempt to transfer some of your arcana magic into Astarion when he feeds from you. Mainly in the hopes of making him stronger in difficult fights. 

However, this backfires causing your blood cells to temporarily produce faster, causing you to get Astarion to help. He does chastise you for doing something dangerous but doesn’t say no to the offer of having seconds of your blood in one day.

A few days later, you learn how to replicate the same spell, but on a lower scale, which assists in not only keeping Astarion well-fed but also stopping the effect of bloodless afterwards.

Some traits that emerge from your ancestry is the habit of hoarding objects, from gold coins to silver plates. Even taking one of Astarion’s spare nightshirts to sleep with much to his annoyance, so he tries to steal things from you in retaliation, which becomes an unspoken agreement between you two.

When your wings finally come through, he tries to help you become used to them, mainly in the hopes that you could fly him around places, eliminating the need to walk around all the time whilst carrying such a heavy pack.

Preening habits also start to be displayed, mainly done in an attempt to impress Astarion. Everyone at camp teases that Astarion has been rubbing off on you, with his usual morning beauty care routine usually holding everyone up some days. He would find this to be cute but attempts to get you to kick the habit, by brushing them for you.

“Darling, I know you want to take care of your wings, but would it kill you to just fix up your hair as well.”

In return, you show your affection by wrapping your wings around him both when you embrace each other, acting as a sort of comfort blanket to both of you.

If you’ve grown out a set of dragon-like claws, he does your nails if they get too sharp, ensuring that you don’t accidentally scratch yourself. And if you have a tail, similarly to tieflings, you would have a habit of wrapping your scaled tail around his leg, which he would endlessly tease you for.

Later on in your relationship, you both give each other unique pet names, you call him your Isk meaning star in your draconic tongue, whilst Astarion in return calls you his miniature dragon.“An elf and a miniature dragon, hmm quite the pair wouldn’t you say love?”

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Dear Domestic Dragons Trust, I’m writing about my recent experiences with my new “pocket dragon”. Which I’m starting to suspect might not be one.

About six months ago I acquired my dragon after years of wanting and saving for one. He’s a male with scarlet red scales, blue highlights and large pointed horns. The breeder at the time seemed reputable and had official paperwork for him upon purchase. He’s been a darling little menace so far, but I’ve been noticing some very bizarre traits of his that don’t add up. First off, he’s Huge! He’s almost quadrupled in size since I got him and his growth is not slowing down. He’s refuses to eat any fruit or cream, only wanting meat and poultry (which he incinerates upon receiving). He’s much more aggressive about his hoard and especially gold, to the point I need welding equipment to separate things from him he’s not supposed to have.

Did I get some bizarre off breed of pocket dragon, or is he something else I need to be concerned about. I love the little guy dearly either way but I’d like to know if he really is a pocket dragon or not?

Hello,

I'm afraid it does sound like your dragon might be a crossbreed. This does happen sometimes, even with breeders who are careful, because dragons are quite crafty and wild dragons do still roam about in some places. It sounds like your dragon might be half firedrake.

We recommend going back to the breeder and asking for their help. If they care about their reputation at all, they will be willing to help you figure out how this could have happened. Knowing what type of crossbreed your dragon can help provide you with the necessary information to keep taking care of them.

It's not illegal to keep a crossbreed dragon like this, but unlike pocket dragons you do need a liscence for them, and you can only keep them in urban areas under the following conditions:

The dragon has been treated with a fire safety spell.

The dragon is no larger than a horse.

The dragon has been (magically) chipped.

Of course you'll also need to be able to house and feed him, which can certainly be a challenge for bigger dragons. If it turns out keeping him at your home is too difficult or too risky, you could house him at a Magical Menagerie, but renting a stable or kennel there can be very expensive.

If worst comes to worst you can bring him to us and we can figure out how to house him at one of our locations. Hopefully close enough for you to come visit and possible train with him!

Best of luck,

~ The Domestic Dragon Trust