Mysticmorning1 - Bored Mystic

Asil: "It's kinda cute.... Can I keep it?"

Tilley: "Honey... that baby has a home... please leave it there..."

does someone know first aid here? This thing fucking bit me

🤣🤣🤣🤣

Asil and Andin vibes

the pair of fodder dragons that have been in my lair for exactly 30 seconds watching my trainer going apeshit peeling mire enemies apart like a banana while they do nothing except occasionally get punched in the back of the head 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

Why did I do this?

I named him this

Flight Rising

MysticMorning's dragon Nuckelavee

Breed, raise, and train dragons on Flight Rising!

Thank you! The windies are getting a little too excited for their ancient. I think we are still getting used to the newest breeds. If we have to wait for 3 years, that's fine.

can i just say im happy its been a lil while since everlux's released. thank god. the over-ancient influx may be over.

not that i dont like them we just REALLY needed time to cool off from them 😭

Lore in progress

Hi... I would like some help.

I have a dragon who I love, I recently started working on her lore um...

She is a He.

I need help writing it properly. I don't want to represent the community the wrong way in any manner. She's (I keep saying she ugh) inspired by a character called George in a Historical Fiction book based around the Civil War. George was born a female who faked being a boy just to get money home to her sick family (I can't remember if it was a sister or a brother. Heck, it could have been a parent. I haven't read the series in 5? years. It's been a while forgive me) Please help me write this properly. If you want to write it yourself, I'll give you all the credit

Ahhhh!!! I wish I could help! Sounds like you need a Guardian or something of that variety.

*(Stops typing to go Research Banescales because they have to be big enough. Plus, they sing all the Banescales in my lair are Bards of some variation)*

Wait, what? Ridgeback are the largest!? Huh!!!

Okay... That's interesting... I leaned something new....

Anyway, Breed Lore wise, a Guardian would fit best. They might consider the Permababies their "Ward." But in the end, it's entirely up to the writer.

I actually have a Wildclaw named Asil he likes to adopt abandoned hatchlings and raise them to adulthood. Though I wouldn't make him a Permababy Caretaker. He likes hunting too much. You gave me an idea that I now need to think about.... Anyway, I really wish I could help. 😅

Looking to buy a lore Dragon!

Now that I have your attention, a bit more details, i am looking for either an adult dragon or a hatchling of lore parents who can fill the role of the Permababy keeper. I have an insane amount of Perma babies and I would like one dragon to be the main caregiver for those without parents in the clan.

They should a be a bit of a Mary Poppins, as in both kind and soft with the kids but also firm with my rascals if needed.

I have a few kids with Carnivore who like to chew and nibble on everything including other hatchlings.

If its an adult I am completley open to ideas as to why they are now becoming a 24/7 babysitter, meaning I don't care if their background was soldier or assassin or maybe they just come from a giant family and are used to it.

If you say due to X event they are now moving to my liar to become a fulltime nanny I am oky with it.

Looks wise I am open to everything however you must be okay with me potentially changing their breed/genes to fit my own likings better plus my baby imps are over 3 meter long and the baby obelisks 150kg heavy so I would like the dragon to be already big enough to handle it or change to a breed that is big enough.

I am posting this to tumblr before the forums because I know there are quite some lore lairs here and I feel like it's easier to connect.

Even if you don't have a fitting dragon I would appreciate a reblog so more people can see it!

Today's my birthday!! YAY!! (I'm not really that excited.)

Anyway I spent some treasure and I spent some gems and I hatched one egg

Said egg and her plans (Flaxen, Cerise, Robin). I'm addicted to Dark eyes. Forgive me, please.

Here's a hatchling I kept from a pair that throws beautifully

2 XXXs that I bought for no reason

And 2 randoms I also got for no reason

(The 2 Gaolers where bought yesterday, and the Wildclaw and Mirror where gotten on the 23rd, I just bought them with the excuse of them being birthday presents to myself)

bear my weight {a joel miller oneshot}

Pairing: Boston Era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You've been keeping it a secret, but one fateful day out on a run exposes it- a disability carried over from before the Outbreak. You brace for the abandonment you're sure will follow since Joel Miller isn't known to be the most accommodating.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: canon compliant language, canon compliant violence, brief description of injuries, blood, scar tissue, argumentative language, joel raises his voice, tess sees all, reader has a disability, reader has mobility issues, reader has a nickname that joel uses once but no official name, lil time skip, kissing, teasing, some banter, super tame one y'all

A/N: just a thing that's been sitting in my drafts for nearly a year. staring at the document for my paper and losing focus is a part of school, no?

It's quiet, in the aftermath of the threat being taken care of.

“What the fuck is your problem, you said you knew how to handle yourself!” Joel’s broad frame pivots as he takes in the now calm setting. Right in the middle of what was once a courtyard, debris and wreckage everywhere from a bomb dropped decades ago. It was supposed to be a simple exploration run for more supplies outside the zone. But clickers and runners have a way of throwing everything into a frenzy.

When you don’t respond, eyes locked on your throbbing leg, it’s when the man huffs and tries to get a gather of where you two ended up in relation to where you had been and where you needed to go. His low grumbles of whatever he’s saying are barely given any life- underneath his breath as he tries to figure it out.

You leave him to it, completely prepared to be left behind once he figures it out. Sighing, you grit your teeth and take the knife you had used to take down the last runner that chased after you and cut the now useless denim from your jeans where it’s stained with blood. It’s not helping to conceal anymore, wrapped around plastic and outdated technology, the blood slippery on your fingers and saturating the fabric even as you untangle it from around your leg.

Joel turns, prepared to fire off more insults at your lack of action if the twist of his open mouth is any indication but he stills when he sees you. You’re still on the ground, though you had managed to move into a seated position, your left leg bent at the knee as you lean forward to roll up what remains of your cut pantleg on the right. It exposes the aged prosthetic no longer secured to the stump of your leg.

Fingers inspecting the broken clasps that had once connected the artificial limb to the scared and rounded edge of your skin just above your knee. The piece of the fabric you normally keep tight over it is torn from the same jutting rebar that had caught your leg and caused you to fall. You sighed, shoulders slumping as you feel the hard gaze of the angry man on you.

The jagged slice into your skin is red and angry, mirroring how you feel about the whole fucked up scene.

He only watches in silence, jaw ticking and face frowning when you chance a blank look up at him

Silence and a long moment pass, him watching as you just sit there and stare down at the issue with hard eyes.

“You can leave now, since I’m such a waste of a partner.” You don’t bother to look up, fingers reaching for the knife holstered on the back of your hip. You use it to cut the once protective wrap for the end of your leg and tie the strip of fabric around the stump to ease the spots of blood bubbling up along the tear in your skin. “Everyone leaves me behind when they find out, wouldn’t hold it against you if you did too.”

“Roni…” His voice is low, but it’s hollow compared to the anger fueling him just moments ago.   

“I said leave!” You head jerks up, eyes meeting his and you can see the air leave his lungs in a surprised huff, though he schools his expression from you as quickly as it flickers. That same hard stare, reminiscent of the spaced out one you often see on him as he’s trekking alongside you on runs and walking alongside you in the crowded streets of the QZ. Seeing everything differently with the new realization. The way you often trailed behind him, and Tess if she’s with you both. The way you tended to rub at your knee whenever you stood in line for various rations, the way you tended to bear most of your weight on your left side that he had thought was due to similar backpain he experienced.

You manage to lift yourself into a standing position, leaning on the same chunk of exploded concrete that had taken you down. Wobbling slightly at the imbalance of leaning down to pick up the now useless prosthetic. The metal and leather clasps clink together as you lift it up to inspect it closer. “Just go.”

But he doesn’t. He simply takes the ruined thing from your hands and fits it into the pack slung over his shoulders. His face tightens when you flinch at his reaching hands, fear of his known brutality and violence finally landing on you. He pauses, eyes shifting as he takes in the trembles of your body, the way you clench your eyes shut and bring up your arms to shield your face from a hit that he never even thinks of making.

It speaks volumes, the gentle way he reaches for them once again to lower them, how he ducks his head and grips your chin to turn your face to him. All the breath in your lungs punches out, the flinch of your dirt smeared face almost a painful stab in the middle of his chest.

“I ain’t gonna leave you out here.” The surety of his words has you opening your eyes and he’s pinning you with a look you’ve only ever seen aimed at Tess before. The complete dedication he has for keeping her alive is now focused on you, stalling your next breath.

It takes a moment to figure out the best way for him to support your weight and carry you. But you both figure it out, hands hovering over your shoulders or waist to help you traverse the ladders and jumps back into the zone through discovered and kept secret pathways.

-

He lingers on the feel of your fingers and hands gripping him, long into the night once back in the relative safety of the apartment. Tess doesn’t say anything when Joel retrieves the prosthetic from his bag long after you’ve fallen asleep on your bed. The small thing tucked into the opposite side of the cramped space that leads to the bathroom. She simply pats a hand on his shoulder, watching the quiet, determined way he begins to look it over.

From that moment on, they’re both sure to look for any compression material they can, for baby powder or any lotion that they come across. For olive oil or anything that can act as a lubricant for your repaired support, to prevent it from the hinges catching or the materials to creak and give away your position while out beyond the walls. For the painkillers they know you need even if you don't ask for them.

The restless nights you tried to hide from them now act as a siren call fashioned for him. Joel rousing should your sheets rustle in the middle of the night or the phantom pain of a limb you now only possess half of becomes too much, the rattle of the pills against each other as you reach for one pulling him from his sleep.

She doubts he even realizes that his hands twitch every time you go to scale a ladder or make a jump, stop to rub at where that unavoidable pinch occurs over your skin- but she clocks it. Can see how it will all play out if given time. His need to protect and fuel to fight encompassing you just as it did her all those years ago.

Your determination to keep up as you always have not shocking, though they do tend to keep a closer eye on you.

Joel nearly loses it one day, hollering and berating your lack of caution when you all found yourselves trapped in a building, the second way out collapsed and blocked. Without thinking or even relaying the thought to them, you use the oil kept in your pocket and a lighter as a defense against the stalkers that hone in on your group in the dark. Your just as loud argument is that it the only thing you could think of that wouldn’t have drawn more of them shutting up the older man.

It's only because he didn’t think of it, think of the way to get you two safely out of the spot he had cornered you all in. Insistence on just one more block, one more spot- guilt making him lash out in anger that you face head on any time it shows.

She tells you to take care of him once she realizes she’s been bitten. Right in front of him and the little figure of a teenager that was meant to be the last job your trio ever worked before seeking something more than the life of a smuggler and outside of the zone for good. Her last words linger in the air just before you and Joel are grabbing harshly at a fighting Ellie, the explosion Tess ensured your safety with echoing in your ears even miles away from the scene.

-

It’s two years later, after many hours, days, weeks, months of traversing the devasted land of what was once sprawling cities and roads that connected them. You’re now settled into a home created between you both and a teenager that was once simple cargo. Connections and emotions tying your little trio together, giving you all a second chance at a life you had once given hope on of finding for yourself. A new prosthetic made of beautifully carved and stained wood supports you, just like the man who had once shifted his harsh demeanor for one of awkward kindship that could only be found in devastating loss.

The underlying care and need to protect allowing for more time, for both of you. For something new and delicate to bud between you, blooming in the time you spent protecting and fighting, defending each other and the girl who sits across from you now on a worn couch.

“Boom, motherfucker.” Her crooked grin brings out one of your own as all three of you look down at the board game set up on the coffee table. “Looks like I win.”

Once the board is folded up, the pieces back in a velvet pouch and the fire left to crackle in the living room do you say anything. The back door closing as the teenager retires to her detached space for the night.

“You let her win.” You put a hand on the threshold to your room, rubbing at your upper thigh to relieve the ache there as the snow and dipped temperature only worsens in the late hour. He watches the way your back flexes with the motion, the steady strength honed in every muscle of your body.

“Figured she would huff and puff if I didn’t.” He’s at the end of the hall, taking his time to shut off all the lamps but one to bathe the space in a sparce, warm light that glows from the window for anyone passing by.

“She thinks you cheat every time,” You taunt, knowing that he doesn’t really but riling him up all the same over the small things that have become a part of an easier life. “Something about you being too cautious to spend your fake millions.”

“Only thing I’m cautious of is messin’ things up with you.” And suddenly all the playfulness leaks out of you, the air growing charged as he gives voice to the quiet thing between you both. You close your eyes in a long blink, the presence of him behind you sparking something deep in your chest. He’s always there, always looking out for you as you do for him. This thing growing in the time you’ve spent together.

“The only way you could mess things up with me is if you take any more goddamn time working up the nerve to kiss me, Miller.” You tilt your head toward him as you turn around and the light seeping into the small hallway from behind him reveals the curve of your upturned lips.

“Fuckin’ impatient.” He closes the gap in two long strides, pressing you back into the wall beside your door and capturing your mouth with his.