Shadow is one of the most talented, thoughtful, sweet, and influential people in my life and I’ll be damned if anyone thinks they can make her believe otherwise.



Send me a ✍ and I will handwrite your url or name.








Scales dusted the ground and floated on the breeze, Tana floating about without her barrier up to catch the scales and prevent their shedding. She had her wings wrapped around her to the waist giving the appearance of a rusty red cloak, leaving a gap that showed her glowing blue eyes. She bopped the boy on the head with laughter, leviatating him a little for fun.



Valrún ducked his head as soon as he felt the light touch, his body stiffening in preparation for a fight. As he turned, he found himself lifted off the ground by bizarre magic.

"Hey!" he growled, twisting in the air until he saw an odd creature. She looked like any other fae in that none of them looked alike. She’s lucky I can’t reach her! he thought with frustration after straining to do just that.

"Put me down," he demanded like the little lord he wasn’t. "I’m not a toy." And yet, all fae seemed to think so! Even Carney couldn’t resist messing with the boy.

"Who are you?"

"You weren’t listening were you?" Tana’s tone was deadpan. "It doesn’t matter. But the reason I left was I could! Who wouldn’t want to explore a brand new world if you could? Besides I know how to battle and I can immobilize things with my mind if things got ugly. Why I could give you the ability to fly if I wanted. Or rather you wanted." She sighed. "It’s a shame I can’t just show you my world to help you understand."

His responded chuckle was answer enough, for it held the undertones of guilt while his cheeks flushed a lovely pink. “No,” he admitted. Paying attention to confusing things was hard! He could only listen for so long…

"I think I’ve had enough flying for the day." Or levitating, as was the case.

He shuffled his feet, staring at his boots as he did so.

"I’m sorry. About earlier, you know? I just." He sighed. "I’m sorry."


To the Stars [Dragon Hunter AU]


Her horse merely cantered to the side, avoiding bone snapping teeth and baring its own unimpressive square ones, ears pinned backwards and nostrils flaring, but otherwise unfazed. 

Its rider remains equally unmoved, even as the red head aims his arrow towards her heart. Beneath her cloak lies chain mail fortified with the smallest of dragon scales, formidable armor even for an archer as skilled as him. Even if he does find one of the few gaps, there’s a very good chance the scales will slow its trajectory, just long enough to allow her to spear him.

"Lord Death has no children." The words are said immediately and without a hint of malice, as if she’s reciting a fact that any sentient person should be aware of. 

But then she falls silent, thinking. She had no way of knowing whether or not the Lord had ever sired children. Her tribe had revered Fordervelse as a death god for centuries- leaving offerings of meat and wine for him and his hell hounds in the forest, and whispering prayers so that he would turn his terrible gaze away from them in the midst of battle. It was not uncommon for parents to scare their children into good behavior by invoking his name, warning them that any sin could call the hell hounds down from the mountains, ensuring a grisly fate for the body and eternal suffering in the pits of hell for the soul. 

So she did know of him, but knowing a legend was hardly knowing the man. And this one rode astride a hell hound, immutable proof that he was at least in some way related to Death.

But there’s something off about this one’s claim, something that prevents her from lowering her spear. And so she addresses him once more, this time choosing words intended to inflame and weed out the truth.

"Or if he does, he must not think much of you, to have sent you on a coward’s quest to slay yearlings. Or perhaps he was he hoping you’d meet their mother and your end along with it?”

"Not one he likes to claim," Valrùn agreed. Her intended barb was but a glancing blow to the tense hound. He’d heard it enough throughout his life that the disgust from a stranger hardly even registered anymore.

"That’s exactly what he was hoping for. I live to disappoint." The hunter inclined his head in almost a form of salute to her keen observational skills while something of a smug smile pulled at one corner of his lips. "As such, I’ll have to disappoint you. That one is mine. Find your own."

Despite her use of Fordervelse’s title, it was obvious she’d never met him in person. Honestly, there weren’t many who would contest that he was the man’s son. He was practically the spitting image of him save for a leaner build and golden eyes. It was often a point of conflict with himself for Valrùn would have much preferred to look like Pitch instead.

Though his arm didn’t stray an inch from when he’d first pulled back on the bowstring, Val knew he couldn’t keep the hold up forever. The hold wasn’t meant to remain forever and their impasse was quite draining considering the fight the dragon had already given him. This had to be resolved quickly.

22 plays

//Holy crap, I had to trim it a lot to be under that 100MB limit. ;_; Oh, well. Here’s a snippet. 8)


imagine your icon pulling up their blanket and accidentally punching themself in the face