darkaviarymc
OBLITERATE!!!
Avi, They/them, adult, Darkaviarymc on A03. Please read pinned before following.
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this is from a couple weeks ago but i am proud of how this drawing of gem’s base came out so it can go here too
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You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don’t die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind….until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
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> be my dog
>beg human for bite if what hunan is eating
>human gives bite
>don't like, spit out bite
>doesn't understand human is eating food I don't like
>beg human even harder for bite of what human is eating
>human gives bite
>don't like, spit it out
>beg human even harder for what human is eating
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How to disable weather events in real life (it's not as bad as it could be where I am, but it still makes everything huuuuurt 😢)
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I hate that there is always a mcyt who’s okay with shipping that ends up being shipped with a mcyt who does not like shipping at all
It’s kinda infuriating because the one who doesn’t like shipping gets pulled into it in character, they don’t say anything about it and it comes off nonchalant until after it’s over that they offhandedly say they were not comfortable about it
Its one thing if it’s a fandom thing but not when it leaks to mainstream and now it’s off putting to look back on
Seen it happen on so many smaller smps, it’s sad
#cough cough *pe@rleo* couch cough#censored so it doesn't show up in their tag because I don't ship bash in the ship tag#that would be very rude 😡
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My friend just made me feel weird for asking so now i gotta know.
If you do have a favorite bird please please tell me in the tags, i want to see some Birds!!
#we've talked about my prior blue bower bird hyperfixation before#but I think my current favorite bird is cardinals
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guy who yells out “IM GONNA FUCKING LOSE IT” before letting out the gentlest, smallest scream you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life
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Idly, from the crack of his ajar bedroom door, Cub watched Scar through gentle eyes, the other sitting at the couch, ever so slightly slumped as he watched the news, or maybe watch was a strong word, because it looked a bit more like he was sleeping. An awake Scar was never so still, so relaxed, the rise and fall of his shoulders never so slow. An awake Scar typically knew when he was being watched, a strong internal sense, and he would turn around, arm draped over the back of the sofa with a lazy smile, and Cub might greet him, or he might just shut the door, the observation not nearly as fun when the other knew he was there. Cub smiled, basking in the opportunity to simply look without being known. Scar’s hair was a certified mess, more than it usually was, the funny little cowlick at the back of his head completely out of control. Not that Scar ever tried very hard to tame it anyway. But today he didn’t have to try at all, because today he was here, and there were no cameras, no scrutiny. Well, maybe there was a little scrutiny, but Grian wasn’t home right now. Just Cub. Just Cub.
Scar’s legs were in the shop today, routine maintenance and things, but instead of spending the day in town as he typically did on these types of off days, he asked to spend it here, to just hang out, relax. Take off the mask and not think at all. And who would Cub be to deny him?
There was something so deeply satisfying seeing him here, out of uniform. He had arrived in it out of necessity; very few people had no legs and wheelchairs decked out in HotGuy merchandise, but Scar had changed once inside, visibly reveling in the luxury of being Here. In a place with people he trusted. No mask. No legs. No uniform. Being.. Scar. Given the nuclear identity crises Scar had been experiencing lately, this was nothing short of the ultimate freedom. And what an honor to be able to provide that, to be trusted enough that even a man so deeply insecure of his place in the world could find it in himself to just relax around you. To be himself. To fall asleep on the sofa without the fear of sharp edges.
Cub ducked out of his room, tip-toeing over to shut off the news. He didn’t care to hear it, and didn’t think it was too good for Scar either, not today. The scene reimagined to his liking, Cub slunk back to his room then walked from it again, normally, and draped his arms around Scar’s neck, humming. Scar roused, and Cub got the pleasure of seeing him blink away sleep.
“Ello,” Scar mumbled, leaning back to hit Cub’s chest with his head, and Cub closed his eyes, a small smile forming across his lips (maybe. Sometimes when he thought he was smiling, he didn’t look any different at all, his mind’s eye only playing tricks on his physical sense of self).
“Hi. You tired?”
Scar gave the question a moment of thought, endearingly, trying to push back further into the couch, like the barrier between them was a great frustration. Cub didn’t make any move to be closer, internally amused. Scar sighed, “Not really. Just got a bit bored, closed my eyes. Was still listening.”
Cub very much doubted that. He didn’t think Scar was lying or anything, just that he simply didn’t know how asleep he really was. No point addressing it though. “That’s good. I was thinking about you, y’know.” Cub snaked around the side of the couch, settling himself half on top of Scar, probably with far less grace than he was imagining. Whatever the case, Scar didn’t seem to care, looking more delighted than anything to have Cub so close.
“Were you now,” Scar returned the gently flirtatious tone, always one for a little bit of a game. It was intense sometimes, looking Scar in the eyes, but there was such a deep contentment there today, and Cub found himself unable to tear his eyes away. “Well, you know I can’t help myself. I have to ask.”
Cub chuckled, burrowing a bit closer to rest his head in the crook of Scar’s neck. “Was thinking about the night we were together, just walking around on the streets. Talking. That kiss, it was a nice thing. It was a good night, just what I needed, really.”
Scar glowed, the little words having more of an affect on him than they ought to have on anyone, but then again, that was just Scar. So easy to please, his joy written for all to see in the bright lines of his face. He’d probably ride the high of those words for the rest of the evening, and Cub would be lying if it didn’t make him feel a little warm. How incredible it was to have that effect on a person. Though Scar, ever greedy a man, could never help but push, “Anything else?”
“Well..” Cub trailed, knowing Scar would hang off every word, “I was thinking about what we talked about. How you wanted someone to take care of you.” Cub let a hand wander to Scar’s thigh, hoping to get the message across, but not entirely confident this would be enough.
The reaction was adorably delayed, the gears behind Scar’s eyes visibly turning before his cheeks flushed, a nervous hand brushing through his hair, “Did I say that?”
Cub shrugged, “No idea. But I remember thinking it.” Cub grinned when Scar startled in his arms, making an attempt to backpedal, but no actual words left Scar’s mouth, and Cub snickered against his shoulder. “Don’t pass out on me now.”
“You’re the one trying to kill me!”
“Oh come now, I haven’t said anything at all. I just have a lot to give tonight, if you want it. All you have to do is ask.” Cub tried to smile, but at this point looking Scar in the eye was really getting overwhelming, so he stopped, letting the silence linger. “And I think it’s funny. That you like my teeth. I think it’s cute. Wanna know how much truth there really was to that little snippet you gave me before,” Cub opened his mouth, just a little, just enough to let the blunt edges graze the base of Scar’s neck, but he failed to anticipate the jolt of Scar’s shoulders at the touch, knocking him square in the face.
“Cuuuub!” Scar wailed, missing the soft grunt of surprise as Cub reeled backwards, as well as the slight movement to adjust his glasses.
“I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”
“No!” The word dropped just like the jolt of Scar’s shoulders, perfectly involuntary, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Scar looked sheepish for a moment, and he was the one who broke eye contact this time, beautiful in his quiet, “Just.. don’t bite?”
Cub smiled, and he was sure he did this time. “I can do that.” But he didn’t get to move before Scar swallowed him in a kiss, full and happy and too excited to hold it in, so perfectly Scar. Something like love warped Cub’s heart, not quite, that would come later, a latent realization sitting alone in bed, eyes wide, heart beating faster, unequivocally, irreconcilably in love. For now though, the warmth in his chest was well enough, the joy and hope that Scar had gifted him with open arms for all these weeks.. months now, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter, really. Cub wanted to give back. To show a kind of appreciation that was a little more explicit, to let Scar know just how much he cared, since Cub knew well enough it wasn’t always easy to tell. (Cub knew that Scar knew already, he knew Cub cared, but as far as romance goes, this was his own fantasy.)
there is more of this like. A lot more. But things ramp up be much less sfw and then not at all even a little sfw and it is like. It is not about the sex really story wise the focus is very romance and silly goofy but that doesn’t go here so if you want to read 7k words of absolute Nonsense you can find that on my ao3
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“When Scar fell, so did the first drop of rain.”
The moment he died, the desert was brought to life for the first time since the beginning.
The smell of petrichor had never brought a more bittersweet sense of relief, nor a heavier sadness.”
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You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don’t die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind….until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
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Actually... you’re fucking right. This game really could be a metaphor for executive disfunction and maladaptive daydreaming as a coping mechanism.
The door is chained shut, as in not being able to escape your own mental barriers. You can't interact with most things in the apartment = you can't make a meaningful impact on your own real life. There's this gaping hole in the wall that leads to a hellscape. The more you interact with this hellscape world, the more the effects start to leek into your real life.
Really, it could be a metaphor for any mental illness that traps you in your mind with thoughts you don't want: adhd, ocd, depression, schizophrenia, etc.
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may...may i request a grian...for the soul....funny birbd
i wanted to draw grian looking fond so i gave him his silly guy
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Five times the hero slayed the dragon, and one time they didn't, Part 1
TW: death in childbirth, graphic violence, implied suicide
The glow of the sunblade fades as the dragon lays dying atop its hoard of gold. Gorwin pants and drops to his knees, letting his sword fall to the ground with a clatter alongside him.
The dragon takes a rasping, rattling breath. "Death...is but a door... to the next life," it rasps, neck still gushing blood. "We will meet again, oh noble elf...when I return."
The dragons eyes slip closed.
The paladin, the hero who'd slain the dragon, takes his sword and stands. He feels... nothing. Not the honor or triumph he should feel at the conquest of such a mighty foe. Not the peace of knowing that the monster before him would never again terrorize the countryside. Not the fear that the dragons foreboding last words had been meant to instill.
The deed is done. The oath is fulfilled.
And so Gorwin turns and walks away.
He goes home to his wife, who greets him with a tired smile from her bed. Pregnancy has taken a toll on her body, and the child in her womb has grown more restless by the day.
On the day Penelo gives birth, what is left of their small village gathers near. When the first cry from the child is heard, there is cheering and dancing and music for the first time in months.
But Gorwin hears none of this. For, unbeknownst yet to the people of the town, his wife lies dead, and his newborn child, a healthy baby boy, stares up at his father with slitted yellow eyes.
Gorwin doesn't raise his son alone. The townsfolk are beside him through the years, providing the clothes his clumsy hands could never sew, offering the gentle guidance his stoic heart could never express.
Gorwin loves Sanev, his son, his last family alive, a dragons soul though he may have. He raises him in the ways of honor, of justice, and of compassion.
Or so he tries.
Sanev is defiant and angry. He lashes out against his father and any others who attempt to guide him in the ways of what is right. His rage is fiery in both the figurative and literal sense. With draconic words he shouldn't know, he conjures fire and pain. Gorwin has nursed more burns alone than he cares to confess.
There's no doubt the child is powerful, and by the time he reaches his 100th birthday and chooses his adult name, now Niarcrago, he is an accomplished sorcerer.
Some say his draconic powers and unusual eyes are due to the residual magic that clung to Gorwin upon returning from his mission. Others say that the boy must have stumbled upon some leyline that infused him with wicked power.
But Gorwin knows the truth. This draconic sorcerer is his own old foe, and Niarcrago remembers Gorwin not as his loving father, but as the man who had killed him.
One day while in the market, Gorwin smells smoke.
"I knew that boy of yours should have been banished decades ago!" a man yells at Gorwin. "He's gone completely mad!"
Gorwin drops his basket of groceries and runs toward his home, passing townsfolk running in the opposite direction and screaming in terror.
In the middle of the street, surrounded by the burning rubble of what was once their quiet neighborhood, stands Niarcrago. His hands and eyes are alight with flames.
"You thought you could raise your enemy as your son," Niarcrago says, but this isn't the voice of a young elf. The voice he speaks with is that of the dragon he once was, and though Gorwin's skin is hot from the fire around him, his blood is as cold as the peaks of the mountains in the dead of winter.
"I did raise you as my son," Gorwin shouts over the roaring fire. "I showed you the love of a father despite everything we'd done to each other in your last life. Our fight is done, so quell your flames, my child!"
A rumbling laugh from the sorcerer shakes the ground.
"I told you that I would return. You should have known that I would never do so in peace. This town will burn, and both of us within it. And when I die, my soul will rest."
"Rest your soul now, Son! We can leave here and forget our old grudges."
"NEVER!" Niarcrago yells, and flames shoot from his mouth along with his thunderous voice.
Gorwin crosses his arms in front of his face and braces himself for the blast.
Fire engulfs Gorwin, burning his cloths and skin. The force knocks him the the ground. When the fire has passed, he ignores his pain and stands, drawing the sword that he keeps sheathed on his back. It's not the sunblade infused with the power of his oath, not anymore. That magic had died with the dragon a century ago.
At least, that's what Gorwin had thought.
When he draws the sword, the magic it had once held roars to life anew, and a voice inside his soul reaffirms the oath he'd taken so, so long ago.
"Please!" Gorwin pleads even as he takes a fighting stance, "Please my son. Don't make me do this. You're all I have left! I love you!"
"You have nothing left, Paladin! Nothing left but a valiant heroes death!"
They charge toward each other, one set of yellow eyes spitting fire, one set of green eyes flooded with tears. Deep in his heart, Gorwin had always known it would come to this, though he'd never allowed himself to truly admit it.
They clash in fury, Gorwin dodging swipe after swipe of Niarcrago's fiery hands that had now turned to dragon-like claws. One blow lands across his face, and he screams as hot claws cauterize as they cut into his cheek.
Niarcrago stands back to admire his work, and Gorwin breaths heavily, drenched in sweat and covered in ash that clings to his wet skin. His mouth feels like he's eaten chalk, and he spits out a mouthful of blood and ash.
Gorwin's eyes and lungd burn from the smoke, but he steadies himself.
"One last time son," he says, his voice rough. "Don't do this. Don't make me do this."
"Do what?" Niarcrago asks, his voice thick with condescension.
Gorwin clenches his jaw. "This."
The newly revived sunblade glows bright, and with the shout of a prayer to Iomedae, he swipes his sword through the air and across Niarcrago's chest.
Niarcrago clutches his hand to his gaping wound, screaming through clenched teeth as his skin seers at his touch. Gorwin plunges the sunblade into his son's stomach, impaling him on the blade.
Niarcrago's flames finally go out, and his eyes go wide.
Both men drop to their knees, and Gorwin lets Niarcrago fall into his arms. He buries his face in his son's auburn hair that always reminded Gorwin of Penelo, and he weeps.
"You were my beautiful Sanev," he sobs. "You were my son, my light, my everything!"
"You..." Niarcrago grunts, "killed me... again. Damn you, Paladin! My soul is still a dragon. Remember that."
Niarcrago's body goes limp in Gorwin's arms, and Gorwin only grips him tighter.
He wails into the air, tears streaking down his filthy face. In his heart, he curses every diety whose name he knows for his fate, for his wife, for his son, for everything he'd lost and everything he'd done.
He pulls the sunblade, dull again now that the oath has been fulfilled once more, from his son's body. He holds it out as far as he can with the blade pointed to his heart.
"Death is but a door to the next life," he says quietly, mirroring the words of the dragon he'd killed. Dragon souls will reincarnate as anything, but the soul of an elf will always return as another elf. Knowing this, Gorwin looks to the sky one last time in this life. The sun and clouds are covered by smoke. The last color he sees is gray.
"I will save you next time, my son."
You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don’t die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind….until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
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Everyone in the tags is making dragon fucking jokes, and while I commend and support this, I'm going to actually write something serious with this. Just. Gimme a minute.
You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don’t die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind….until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
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If you ever want to send money my way, I do have a ko-fi.
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