#( moved to the white wyvern. )

[xsinistralowex]

Sinistra felt as though she was doing well. Rabastan hadn't left. He was still sitting with her in the tavern, listening to her, asking her questions and being more and more interested. She both wondered how she got so lucky but also knew she was a prize. She was worth having the dark mark. There was so much she had to offer: her ruthlessness, loyalty, beliefs, intelligence and strength. Sinistra was pure magic in everything she touched. The dark mark and being a full blown Death Eater would only be another thing to succeed at. And she would, come hell or high water.

The barkeep noticed Sinistra had no more wine and came to offer more. She nodded in approval. She didn't normally drink much but there was something about the night that screamed for wine. Maybe it was an early celebration. Yes, that must be it. She wouldn't be getting the mark that night but she was getting closer every moment and every time she met with Rabastan. It made her full of childlike glee. "Excite me? Thrill me. Naturally." Sinistra said with a straight back. It was the first time she admitted out loud that she had such emotions. "I'm honored you are glad you are the one who found me. It's such a wonderful thing to hear," a sly smile crossed Sinistra's lips, "And I wouldn't have it any other way, Rabastan."

But then he asked the question. What did she do to you? The muggle who destroyed everything sacred to Sinistra -- or everything that was once sacred. The muggle had taken away Sinistra's dreams. She had come this far. She couldn't lie to Rabastan now. It was time to reveal the ugly truth about her past.

"I was engaged to the love of my life. I was out with my mother preparing for the wedding. When I came home I found my fiancé in bed with a muggle," she gulped a large amount of her wine then leaned into Rabastan. "She deserved the cruciatus curse she received," she said with a sick smile.

If he'd known the extent of her ambition and desire to please, it would have only added to his certainty. Rabastan saw potential in Sinistra. Though he'd asked for her motivations, they were not the only important detail in a new recruit. But he had moved beyond finding bodies to send into battle. He had no interest in sourcing people who were easily manipulated by fear, power or greed. The ranks required true assets with enough intelligence to think for themselves and act with responsible integrity. He believed she possessed such qualities. She would not be simply a lamb to the slaughter, but instead, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Picking at the canapés after she had chosen, he vaguely wondered whether it would have been better to have this conversation when she was completely sober. He decided not. Her giddiness would reveal what he desired, and perhaps it would mask his prying.

"Yes," he admitted slyly, glancing up as he selected some kind of gillyweed infused pastry. "I thought this would excite you. Truth be told, I'm rather pleased to have discovered you for myself." Not that he'd gone looking for her, but he had been the one to test her and judge her capabilities. He would take full credit for the latter.

Her answer was standard enough. She spoke the kind of mantra smattered through her propaganda, and for a moment he wondered if she would offer anything of interest after all. But then the disclosure came, and he could not stop the sour smile from riveting his features like an unpleasant promise. "What did she do to you? We will have a future, one day, where it is no longer possible for Muggles to defile our lives."

[donelywell]

October 5 2023

I changed things up because it's got Frontiers Final Horizons Spoilers. I know the updates been out for like 2 months now but I'm being really cautious.

Super Sonic was really fun to play in the base game, having the auto combo thing on and just seeing so much bombastic energy and over the top moves being thrown at giant titans was so much fun.

I did however, not read the instructions where they tell you to hold the parry, I thought it was a perfect timing thing like a normal parry. So fighting Giganto and Wyvern for the first time was a nightmare for me until I actually read the instructions. =v='

For the design, I didn't change much, Super Sonic is really cool. I basically just changed the green parts of his shoes to red to reflect his new eye color.

Super Sonic² was so cool! The casual backhand slap, the sass, the move where he basically does the idw move, the finger point when he gets back in the game!

The only issue I had is that I didn't understand at all how to fight the final boss. I didn't 100% complete the map so I didn't get the hints. (I am still stuck on the stupid ball hoop map puzzle thing, I swear there is no way to do it) So unfortunately, I had to look up a guide. That kinda dampened the experience, but there was no way I was fighting Supreme over again, getting to the same glitch because I killed him too fast, and then fail the final boss fight again because I didn't know I was supposed to press r2.

I made his quills seem like they are turning into flames at the tips, I made his torso kinda have a sun symbol on it, I made his secondary fur white and his base fur/ quills bright yellow to kinda give it more sun imagery. His arm patterns are a little more detailed, his gloves have kinda formed into the body, making the cuffs look like they're on fire too. His socks turned into bandages and blue rings floating on him with the soles of his shoes kinda smoking on the back. It was a lot of fun interpreting this design differently, giving it a more ancient vibe with a modern twist. The original design is still really cool too!

Cyber Super Sonic... one of the coolest forms in my opinion and yet we see him for less than a minute in only a cutscene. I'm not complaining, the cutscene was so cool! Me and my sibling were star struck when we saw it!

I love the Fleetway elements! The sharp teeth, the crazy eyes, the chaotic behavior that almost made it seem like if Cyber Super Sonic wasn't being literally shot out to his enemy, he'd not be able to tell between friend or foe! God, it was so cool!! Even if it was just limited to a cutscene where you can barely see the entire design in a single image!

I did actually have a static version of this image too, but I'm not including it because it gave me eye strain, and I don't want to hurt you.

For the form I actually decreased the amount of polygons on Sonic. If you look, he's more angular & simplistic and his legs and arms are rectangles! I thought it'd help give him more of a Cyber Computer vibe. I used the blue static and made it kinda an accent color so you can see where things are. I don't really know why, but I also made some parts of him detached? The inside parts have the white spirals that Cyber Super Sonic's eyes were.

The update was a lot of fun to play when it came out, even if it was EXTREMELY challenging for a casual player like myself. Almost made me quit a few times and a couple guides were begrudgingly looked up. Playing as Tails and Amy were definitely the highlights of the update for me though. I hope it was as much fun for you as it was for me. :)

[targaryen-dynasty]

Writer's block is still going strong, but just imagine going to bed while Aemond reads a book and waking up in the middle of the night to him still sitting there reading. 🤭 (word count: 650) Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

A soft sigh pulled you out of your dreams, stirring awake. Since most of the candles had gone out, you were well aware that it was long past the hour of the wolf. There he sat, still perched over the thick book in his lap that provided him with the knowledge of dragons, wyrms and wyverns – Unnatural History. The only light illuminating your marital chambers was the dim light of the hearth, casting a wonderful glow over his silver tresses.

When you had fallen asleep, he was busy reading the chapter about ravens and how the children of the forest could speak with them. But since you had been asleep for two hours at least, he probably was reading something else.

It was surprising to you that Aemond still paid that much attention to those beasts and animals, because he had already claimed his own when he was no older than ten. And not just one beast. He had claimed the biggest dragon alive, grown almost as large as the Black Dread with a breath hot enough to melt a knight’s armor. Vhagar.

"Go back to sleep, wife," his baritone voice rang out for he had clearly heard you stirring awake. "Are you still reading about dragons?" You asked, your voice thick with sleep. Pushing aside the blanket, you moved to crawl out of the large bed, merely clad in one of your shorter and lighter nightgowns.

"Hmm," Aemond hummed in approval, still focused on the book in front of him. You approached him and began massaging his shoulders, trying to ease the tension they held. "Come to bed, Aemond," you said, leaning forwards to press a kiss to his earlobe. "You know more about dragons than anyone else in King's Landing." With your breath fanning over his skin, Aemond couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head to the side, chasing your touch. "One never stops learning, Y/N."

The palms of your hands slid down his front so you where hugging him from behind, your cheek pressed against the side of his head. Aemond leant back against you, sighing contentedly as your warm embrace granted him comfort and calmness. "You are reading this book for the – what? – the 10th time? Septon Barth died long before we were born. There is nothing new written in it, and there never will be."

Your husband finally moved to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, standing between his parted legs as his tired eye roamed over your half-naked form, before he pulled you onto his lap and connected his lips to yours. "But that does not mean I can not discover something new I might have overlooked before," he said once he pulled back from you. His forehead rested against yours, resulting in you closing your eyes and inhaling his scent. "Yes, you are right, but it means that you are allowed to give yourself a break and get some rest. The dark shadows under your eyes would be grateful for it – just like me."

Aemond’s hands ran down your body to cup your arse, supporting your weight as he got onto his feet to walk towards your marital bed. "Fine," he rasped, kissing you deeply. "But there is one thing I must do before I shall retire to bed." Before you had the chance to sigh in annoyance, because you were certain he wanted to read yet another chapter of the book, his lips were on yours again, and his tongue slipped past them to swirl around your own. 

By practically throwing you onto the bed, he broke the kiss and annoyed you even more. But that annoyance was quickly shushed with him discarding his white tunic, revealing his lithe but toned torso as he stood in front of the bed only wearing his breeches. "Or rather someone I must do first." You were looking at him with wide eyes, the innuendo having you parting your legs for him immediately. “Then I suggest you take what you desire, husband… take me.“ 

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 1

HI WELCOME TO MY FAVORITE PROJECT! This series is what my fic Prescribed Medicine was loosely based on. I've decided to bring it to life in a multi part series! This chapter is sfw and building background. I will probably post to AO3 since the series lovers live there.

Pairing: Wyvern Devil Fruit Reader (female) x Law

Burning Hearts Chapter 1: A Heated End. A Cold Beginning.

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

Background: O/C (Rito Daisy) is a Strawhat Pirate. Long hair, dark brown with a streak of grey hair coming from the crown. Heterochromia, one eye brown and the other grey. O/C (Daisy) has a Zoan devil fruit power, although she is unaware what type of creature it came from. She was forced to ingest the fruit as a slave, therefore is resentful and only uses it when completely necessary. The only powers she has harnessed are black, bat like wings, and refuses to explore her powers further. O/C joined the Straw Hat Pirates a brief time before the Water 7 Arc. 

— —

Chapter 1: A Heated End. A Cold Beginning. 

Milky, iridescent ribbons of northern lights swirled quickly across your range of vision. Were you laying on the ground? You felt your long hair tickling your back, nothing impeding it. With nothing above or behind you, you were whizzing through space and time. You tried to move your hands. 

Your feet. 

Your wings. 

Nothing. You couldn’t move an inch. Your head spun with dizziness and confusion. What happened? Where were you? The last thing you remembered was-

“Wait Sanji-!” You called out after being face to face with the padded paw of Bartholomew Kuma on Sabaody Archipelago. 

“Don’t touch her you brute!” Sanji’s eyes flared with aggression as he aimed a kick towards your attacker. 

And that was the last thing you saw. You had been bested badly by Kizaru and Kuma, just as the rest of your crew had. You knew you had broken bones. You realized this now that the adrenaline had worn off and you could finally feel your injuries. The delicate tissue of your wings was ripped to shreds and you felt it deep in your flesh. You couldn’t even retract your wings and resume your full human form. You were helpless in your involuntary stasis. How long had you been flying away? The northern lights begin to meld together in your vision and your eyelids flutter closed again… 

— — — 

*WOOOOSH* *CRASH*

Your body crashed into the side of a snowy mountain like a dropped bomb. Pine branches snapped. Squirrels and foxes scampered away quickly. Boulders shattered at the sheer force of the impact. For a moment you were able to open your eyes. 

You were blinded by bright white. After a few moments of believing you had died and were ascending into the heavens, the craggy mountainside came into view. But before you could fully assess your situation, the rock face beneath you gave way and you were falling again. 

You scream but your mouth was quickly covered with snow from the incoming avalanche. You feel more of your bones snap. The pain is unbearable. Your head spins… 

— — — 

“Way too fuckin’ cold…” Penguin struggles to lift his legs from the knee deep snow as he trudges towards the woods on the mountain. 

“Captain said to get wood. You wanna tell him you were ‘too cold,’ Penguin?” Ikkaku snapped at her exploration partner while she too, struggled to move through the snow. 

“I’d like to see him out here in this shit! I can barely tell my hand from my dick in this blizzard!” Penguin shot back. 

“That’s probably because you can barely see your- Ooof!” Ikkaku trips over something in her path and takes a nose dive into the fresh powder in front of her. 

“Hah! Karma, bitch!” Penguin laughs and pulls his hat back. Upon clearing his vision, he sees what his crew mate had tumbled over. A pair of denim clad thighs and a slim waist. “Wait… Ikkaku…” 

“What is it? Help me up already!” 

“It’s… it’s a girl!” 

“What?” Ikkaku shakes her head to shake off the snow. 

“There’s some lady buried in the snow! We gotta get her out!” Penguin panics and starts scraping heaps of snow off the frozen body. 

“Oh shit, you’re right. Let’s pull her out.” Ikkaku reaches through the snow until she feels a lifeless skull lolling around. She places a gentle hand behind the body’s neck and pulls it out of the snow. It was a beautiful woman, long brown hair braided with flowers and vines that had been frozen and wilted in the snow, a large grey streak spread from a corner of her forehead. Ikkaku grabs the shoulders while Penguin grabbed the legs of the lifeless form. 

“Why isn’t it moving?” Penguin pulls on the legs. 

“Hmmph! It’s stuck on something… Hmmmpph!” Ikkaku tries to jostle the body free of the ice and snow. The duo pull and push on the body until something finally gives and it is released from the grip of the mountain. Suddenly, on one side of the body, a tattered black wing breaks free from the ice and flops back down. The second wing followed and slumped lifelessly next to the unconscious form. 

“What the hell is this thing?!?” Penguin exclaims. 

“I don’t know…” Ikkaku looks down at the strange person. “But Captain is definitely gonna wanna see this…” 

The two wordlessly agree to carry the body back down to the Heart Pirate safe house at the bottom of the mountain. 

— — 

“Captain! Law! Hurry!” Penguin yells as he runs into the base backwards carrying the legs of the unknown body. 

“Bring it to the med bay, if there’s any chance it’s still alive he’s going to want it in there.” Ikkaku hurries Penguin down the hallway to Captain Trafalgar Law’s surgery room that connected to his secluded office. 

Doors swinging open quickly, the pirates hoist the winged figure up onto the surgery table. The body laid lifelessly on the table while the shredded wings flopped lazily at its sides, tips nearly hitting the floor. Penguin collapsed against the wall behind him, breath heavy from the long, arduous journey back from the mountain with their new addition. 

The door to the adjoining office was flung open. 

“What the hell is this?” Law burst in and began pulling on a pair of blue rubber gloves. 

D, E, A, T, H.

H, T, A, E, D.

He slipped the gloves over each finger and moved towards the surgery table. 

“We found it on the mountain, Captain.” Ikkaku responds. “Under a blizzard and a landslide. I doubt it’s still alive.” 

Law wordlessly peruses the body. He stops by it’s neck and presses two fingers against it’s pulse point. 

E, A.

“There’s a pulse. She’s alive.” 

Ikkaku and Penguin look at each other and their eyes widen. 

“Bepo!” Law shouts. 

“Yes, Captain?” A large polar bear in an orange jump suit enters the operating suite. 

“Ready the surgery room.” Law eyes Penguin and Ikkaku gawking at each other. “You two, prepare for a procedure. Get Shachi too. This won’t be easy.” 

“Aye, Captain!” The duo immediately went to change their uniforms and scrub up for the procedure. 

—- —- —- —- 

“I need more stitches, Bepo.” Law states, muffled by the surgical mask in front of his nose and mouth. 

Law sits on a doctor’s stool sewing up the sinewy flesh on the being’s wings. It had taken him 2 hours, but Dr Trafalgar Law had already sewn up one wing and was finishing the other. It didn’t look good, even Law could admit that. He was just trying to stop the bleeding from the micro veins and tissue in the wing webbing. Bepo had hooked up the creature to machines to monitor its breathing and heart rate. 

“I-It’s a vampire. W-we should have left it out there.” Penguin says from the corner of the operating room. 

“If you can’t be helpful, leave.” Law states calmly without looking up from his work. 

“It’s not a vampire, you idiot.” Shachi remarks from his spot next to the body. “It’s that Straw Hat girl. You guys don’t remember her from the auction house?” 

This peaked Law’s interest. 

“Straw Hat? She’s with his crew?” Law takes a moment from his hunched position over the wing to look at the body’s unconscious face. He notices her button nose, full bottom lip, and her frostbitten skin. Law cocks his head. He remembers her from Sabaody now. She was with the young man in the Straw Hat. He recalls the information on her wanted poster. They had only left the chaos a few days earlier. 

“The botanist…” He mumbles under his breath. 

“Yeah! That’s it! They call her the Earthly Devil… Rito Daisy I think..” Shachi confirms. 

“Daisy…” Law says pensively. He looks at your peaceful face. His gaze lingers for a moment before returning to his work stitching up the flesh of his new patient. 

“Must be a Zoan type.” Bepo says from over Law’s shoulder. “She’s certainly no mink. The question is what kind of Zoan type makes wings like that…” The bear has worry and concern his voice. Law sighs and rises from his chair. 

“It’s not important right now.” He ties off his stitches and moves towards the body’s torso. “We need to set the bones. If we don’t do it now, it’ll be a lot more painful when she’s awake.” 

Law cracks his knuckles.

D, D, E, E, A, A, T, T, H, H. 

His crew members look at him expectantly.

“Well, let’s do it.” 

— —  

Burning. Bright. Fluorescent. 

“Ow… my eyes…” You mumble as you wake from a deep slumber. All you could see was artificial lights and steel ceilings. You knew you were not on the Sunny anymore, ToTo. You try to reach your arm to rub your eyes and found that both of them were shackled to the table you were laying on. 

You were a prisoner. 

Again. 

You heart throbbed in your chest. Your stomach dropped through your whole body. Someone had taken you captive again. How could this happen? You had aligned yourself with the strongest pirates the worst generation had to offer and yet here you were, strapped to a strangers ship just like was 8 years ago. 

“Hey…” You try to sit up.

“HEY!” You pull your body up further. 

“GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! HEY! HEEEEEY!” You try to lurch your body forward but you were met by sharp, extreme pain throughout your whole being. 

“Hey woah hold on relax it’s okay! We’re going to help you!” 

A voice comes from the corner of the room you couldn’t see due to your restraints. 

“Who… who are you! Get away from me! Let me go!” You shouted. 

“I know you’re freaking out right now but I promise we-“ 

You see who the voice was coming from. 

It was an 11 foot tall real-life anthropomorphic polar bear wearing an orange jumpsuit. Your eyes crossed in shock. 

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING CARNIVORE DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” You pull at your restraints, ignoring the searing pain in your body. 

“No no! I wouldn’t! Please stop!” The bear raises his hands in front of his chest to signify he meant no harm, but you would’t believe it. You scream.

“AAAAH!” The metal restraints holding you down to the table broke under your strength, the material melting slightly. 

“CAPTAIN!!!! HELP!!!” The bear shrieked and cowered. 

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” You shouted and pushed yourself off the operating table and into the cabinet across the room, breaking the glass. You honed your eyes in on the polar bear. 

You spread your broken wings and they crash against the furniture in the cramped operating room, knocking over carts full of medical equipment. 

“Shit!” You groan in pain. 

“ROOM.” 

Suddenly, the air around you tuned light blue. You spun your head around, trying to see where the voice came from. 

“Shambles.”

You felt a body behind you. You breathed hard in suspense. 

“Shit, that burns!” An arm around around your torso pulls back. 

“Wha-?” You felt a sharp jab in your neck and then your eyelids closed. 

Three fingers pushed down the plunger of a syringe.

E, A, T. 

— — — —- —- -

“I have to go to Marine Ford. Picking up a patient. You stay here and make sure this patient stays sedated.” 

It had been a week and Law had been taking care of his new patient in his medical bay at the Heart Pirates safe house. Law had made sure that Daisy would stay unconscious during this time, pumping her full of sedatives. He needed the patient’s bones to heal. 

“Keep her sedated. I’ve left the exact measurements of medications in the folder on the desk. Make sure she stays unconscious. If she were to wake up now, the sheer volume of her broken bones would send her into another shock-like state.” Law gives the instructions to Shachi and Penguin. 

“G-got it Captain! You can leave it to us!” Penguin nods at his captain. 

“It might be a few days. Call only if it’s an emergency.” Law tosses Shachi a transponder snail and heads out of the base towards where the Polar Tang was docked, Bepo at his heels. 

“Great. What did you do that landed us in charge of the vampire girl? If she wakes up we are so fucked.” Penguin remarks at Shachi. 

“She won’t wake up. If we keep giving her meds, we’re in there like swim wear. It’s an easy gig.” Shachi laughs. “And if she does, so what? We just shoot her full of one of these…” Shachi grabs a syringe from a medical cart and squirts it into the air. “So what if she’s a Straw Hat? She’s their gardener. She’s about as dangerous as their damn musician. No real threat.” 

“I don’t feel real great about this, Shach…” Penguin remarks while rubbing his brow. 

[tyrantisterror]

What are some examples of benevolent (or at least benign) dragons in classical western folklore? I recall you mentioning that they did indeed exist, but I don’t recall you ever mentioning any specific examples.

Well, firstly, most of the dragons from Greek mythology. Like, the dragon that Cadmus slew was Ares's pet, and Cadmus had to build an army to fight war in Ares's name as penance. The dragon of Colchis was beloved by Medea and viewed as a protector by her people, and in some versions of the Argonauts myth was put to sleep peacefully instead of slain. Ladon, the dragon who guards the Hesperides, was specifically beloved by the nymphs who lived alongside him, and in the versions of the myth where Heracles slays him, Ladon is explicitly mourned by those same nymphs. Dragons were agents of the divine in Greek myth as often is not more so than they were enemies of it, which makes sense given that so many of them were, like, first cousins with the Olympians. It's really funny that people will cite the Greek myths as examples of dragons as "agents of evil" in the same way it's funny when people cite Greek heroes as moral paragons, when any actual look at Greek mythology shows its morality was always very murky shades of gray rather than the black and white view we like to pretend all European mythology shares.

I think this inflicting of Christian black and white thinking on a morally gray mythology also occurs with Norse myth, though sadly we don't have a lot of pre-Christian Norse literature to serve as concrete evidence for this opinion the way we do with Greek dragons. Like, outside of Ragnorok (which some have argued is not a REAL Norse myth, but something concocted during the Christian-ization of Europe as a way to placate Christianity into not destroying all of Norse culture), Jormungandr doesn't do a single malevolent thing in any Norse story. The most he ever antagonizes anyone is when he lets Utgard Loki (no relation to normal Loki) make him look like a cat to teach Thor a lesson in humility that the god of thunder never fully learns. All subsequent encounters are a result of Thor fucking with Jormungandr out of spite for the cat prank. The corpse chewer dragons in Niflheim are terrifying, but the souls they're gnawing on are the dishonored dead, and they don't cause problems for the living until - well, until Ragnorok, which again, may not be a real Norse myth. Fafnir's a piece of shit, sure, but he's not a dragon by birth - he's a dwarf who turned into one out of greed for gold.

Then you have a myriad of stories about dragons who were tamed by saints or heroes only to be killed by townsfolk who thought they were still vicious, and promptly mourned afterwards - the Tarasque is probably the most prominent of these, but there are other stories that are variations on the formula. I'd also include Maud and the Wyvern/Dragon of Mordiford in this category, as while the dragon is never fully tamed by Maud's affection, it's nonetheless kind to her, and the story ends with her mourning its death rather than the townsfolk celebrating it. You are clearly supposed to feel sympathy for these dragons, even if the stories present their deaths as necessary or inevitable.

There are even examples of good dragons in explicitly Christian Medieval stories, despite them usually opting to treat dragons as purely evil. You have Y Ddraig Goch, the red dragon of Wales, whose defeat of a white dragon is an explicit omen of how the wicked Saxons will be overthrown and driven out by a good (or at least better) king in time, and who becomes the heraldry of King Arthur, a paragon of virtue by the standards of the times each of his stories are told in. There's one saint - I think Carantoc? - who found a dragon sleeping in a well and convinced it to move without much complaint, and another, St. Simeon, who removed a thorn from a dragon's eye to the amazement of all and was shown gratitude by the dragon in turn.

Benign/benevolent/not-explicitly-evil dragons may not make up the majority of European dragons, but they're not as rare as modern generalizations of it would have you believe.

[tanoraqui]

key elements of Crownless (the Young Aragorn show that lives in my head and heart) season 1:

(Note that I will play a little fast and loose with timelines and for the sake of a better story. And/or take ruthless advantage of canonical slow Dúnedain aging to spread the timeline out over several decades)

First episode(s) is Aragorn (age 21, functionally late teens) leaving Rivendell to start wandering the wilds with the Rangers. I would do Elrond & his people dirty and say that Aragorn has been kinda sheltered growing up, a little because Elves tend to baby Men, especially young Men, and mostly because everyone wanted to be sure Isildur’s heir was safe as darkness grew in the world, especially after his father was killed when he was 2.

So Aragorn starts with significant book smarts, homely peace smarts—historical knowledge, animal friendship, herblore, diplomacy skills, technical sword/knife/bow skills…but he doesn’t know the dirty fighting tricks that win a fight. His tracking, hunting, forest stealth, etc. skills…suck at first. He’s prone to freeze in urgent healing (or combat) situations, because he’s never done this on his own before—though he has a natural talent for the ‘calling people back from death’ thing we see in LotR.

(This gives Aragorn obvious skills to pick up that demonstrate his character growth as a leader, while also establishing from the start that his real talent in kingship is, always was, diplomacy, strength of character & connection with his people, literal and metaphorical healing. Also, weirdass plans, often based on things he read, with success resting on luck/prayer/hope more than any reasonable thing…including a willingness to trust strange new and/or sketchy people…and they work.)

Maybe eps 1-2 is a double-length episode: opens with newly widowed Gilraen arriving in distress with a toddler 18 years ago, then first half is mostly restless late teen!Estel in Rivendell, ending with Elrond revealing his true name, broken sword, time to go forth… Smash cut to Aragorn tripping in the forest and falling in a stream while 2 other baby Rangers laugh at him and whoever’s stuck training these new recruits sighs heavily. There’s a lot of “this is the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Isildur’s heir?”

Format: 22ep 44min monster of the week (like GOD INTENDED) focused on the newest young Rangers: Aragorn, Halbarad, Dúnawen (OC: “maiden of the west”, don’t @ me for naming), as they range throughout Eriador learning how to be badasses guarding the boundaries of civilization. Monsters include orcs, wargs, mortal bandits, trolls, giant spiders, a small ice wyvern that made its way to northern Dale, barrow-wrights, unhoused fëa, rival clans of Men or maybe Dwarves who are about to go to blood feud war…

…and a slowly mounting season plot of the trouble of 3 Nazgúl reoccupying Dol Goldur, after the White Council forced the “Necromancer” out 15ish years ago. (Riling up ghosts throughout the countryside? Something something themes of moving on from the past. Also, can’t go wrong with an episode in which heroes must confront their literal personal ghosts.)

Repeat cameos from Elrohir & Elladan, cousins of all Mannish Dúnedain (and kind of older brothers to Aragorn in particular.) Are they helping him? Are they harder on him than on the other new recruits? Are they good cop/bad cop-ing it?

Arwen! Meet briefly ep1 and/or she’s a key feature of midseason finale; return in season finale to be badass. “Tinúviel! Tinúviel!” scene in Lothlórien casts a hiccup in a fledgling romance between Aragorn and Dúnawen

All combinations of Aragorn/Halbarad/Dunawen ARE welcome, nay, encouraged. They’re functionally in college and they’re all hot, and constantly in near-death situations. I advise the writers to have fun. Bisexuality is free.

Gandalf introduction early, ep2? Probably also in finale (something of a large team-up).

Late season bottle episode, maybe just before a 2-parter finale, in which due to a thunderstorm/mudslide/cave-in incident, Aragorn, Halbarad and Dunawen are trapped in a cave/small series of caves with a random assortment of other travelers on the road west of Bree: a pair of Dwarvish merchants, a few men, 1 elf (journeying to the Havens to Sail?), and 1 hobbit, Mr. Drogo Baggins of Hobbiton, who was making a perilous journey to Bree and back in order to fetch his beloved, very pregnant wife a particular kind of cheese she was craving. No loss of air threat, but they’re stuck. Obviously getting Drogo home is of utmost importance (and everyone else needs to get home safe, too). Tempers run high! Only once the Junior Rangers sort out their late-season interpersonal drama can Aragorn rise to the occasion and organize/mediate this microcosm of Middle Earth’s populace to dig their way out of this cave.

Aragorn is exceptionally good at facing down Nazgúl and their weaponized despair because he has—indeed, he is, by name!—hope. This show is about hope first and teamwork second, and looking badass in a beautiful landscape while Howard Shore music swells third.

[s2 in notes]

[15depressedducks]

Flowers Can Grow in Concrete C17

Why? Why? Why?WHy?WHy?WHY!WHY!WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY- No, Breath, Your calm, Your stable, Your professional. Don’t pay it any mind! She is just a toy, something that will break soon! They’ll learn to not get attached! 

First it was N. He is the one responsible for this. But that wasn’t unexpected! What was unexpected was V. She got weak, and caved for it. It’s her fault! Not mine! 

Then N decided to fight back! To not listen to me! So I let him go, and then he thinks he can KEEP DOING IT!? THEN V!? Then N thinks he can walk away from me in thE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION! THEN HE THREATENED ME AND THEN TO CHOP OFF MY AR- “N! WAKE UP! LET GO!” What’s going on down there? 

J peaked over her nest. Was one not enough?… Oh, no they had the pile of scrap between them, so cuddles, fun.

“N! Please!”

“Ehehehee! But you're the one who did it!”

“No! You were!”

“Well the other ni-” N teased.

“Shut it! Shut it! Shut it! Shut it!” Ugh, she sounds like a child, ironic really. N moved away from her.

“Now, let me think about what we cou-Ghak! Uzi!” The thing had jumped onto V. Heh. Deserved~! She smirked to herself.

“Hehe! I got you mom!” J’s brows furrowed. M-Mom?! Did V encourage this?! No, she didn’t, it looked like she locked up when it said that…

“Come on Z, Leave V alone.” N spoke softly.

“Awh, she never plays with us!” It was sitting on V, arms crossed and pouting.

“Get off me or I’ll leave you in N’s nest.” V said in a gruff voice.

“N will just get me!” It had a smirk on its face.

“Not if I do it when he’s gone~!” she moved her head around.

V made eye contact with J, then displayed ‘TTYL’ on her visor. What in the corporate agreement is she on about? V looked back to her makeshift family.

J frowned her brow. Tired from looking at the happy gross family she crawled back into her nest. She began to move some blankets around till she found a wooden chest made for toys. She opened it up, inside were some fabric and stuffed animals. Small and big, accurate and colorful, old and new.

The fabric that was in there was light blue plaid on a white background, soft mint green with lilac dots on it, and a light orange with a moody pink in the pattern called hound’s tooth.

She had a variety of animals: a dark blue bat that needed to be fixed, a lama with pink wool, a brown wyvern that you could shape and twist, a gray wolf with blue eyes and white patterns, a human-ish black cat sitting down with gray toe beans and green button eyes, a shark with a 6-pack, a blahaj, a penguin that had a rabbit eared hoodie, a black blob that looked like a gingerbread cookie with white circles for eyes, a normal zebra that had rainbow stars on it’s fur, and a light blue whale.

J grabbed the whale and held it tight. Tears formed as she put the chest away. She curled up with the whale and cried quietly.

They are replacing me.

They want me gone.

They think I'm useless.

They should kill me.

They have a replacement already.

They know what to do.

I was too rough.

I was too rude.

I was too heartless.

I was too careless.

I was too self centered.

I was too blind.

No one cares.

No one wants me.

No one is here.

No one is warm.

No one is looking for me.

No one wants me.

Why did I have to come back.

Why did I have to be so rude.

Why did I have to hurt them.

Why did I have to live again.

Why did I have to forget my life.

Why did I have to feel.

I should have died.

I should have stayed in the pile of corpses.

I should have had the elliots kill me.

I should have helped.

I should have been kind.

I should have fought harder.

What’s the point.

What’s the meaning.

What’s the purpose of me.

What’s the end goal.

What’s the way to stop hurting.

What’s the meaning of safety for me.

What’s the life I want.

I’m broken.

I’m unrepairable.

I’m unfixable.

I’m hurt.

I’m hollow.

I’m a shadow.

Something that should be left.

Something that should be broken.

Something that should be hurt.

Something that should be killed.

Something that should be gone.

Something that should be forgotten.

J clenched her teeth, it played like static in her mind. She felt like she was being consumed by a void. She grabbed her tail and stabbed her hand, she barely flinched from the pain. She let her hand decay. It was a weak pain, one she was used to.

It had melted so much to the point she couldn't move her fingers. It left a nice round circle before J popped it in her mouth. Her mind began to wander again.

Heart pulled from her chest slowly, feeling all the pain.

An empty shell.

Deader than the trees.

Deader than the humans.

Deader than the drones she had killed.

She was falling without her wings.

Some days the sun didn't seem half bad.

She could be free.

She could stop living in this hell.

Not forced to be a sheep to the Shepherd.

The Shepherd.

The Shepherd is to blame for this hell.

The Shepherd.

The Shepherd thinks it's a game.

The Shepherd.

The Shepherd slaughters those it dislikes.

The Shepherd.

The Shepherd uses us like toys.

The Shepherd.

The Shepherd.

J cried herself to sleep, thoughts just looping over and over. 

—————

J woke up groggy. Something must have woken me… She shoved the whale under her pillows and she saw V’s claw pulling her up. Oh, right, she wanted to talk.

“What do you want?” J spat out

“Are you ok?” V looked at her with a concerned look. No, don’t break now, stay strong, stay resilient.

“I’m fine,” J said duly.

“You don’t look fine… Your hair is a mess, your clothes are wrinkled, I heard you cry early, so let me ask this again. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” J snapped back, she bared her teeth. “And I wasn’t crying!”

“We both know that I have the best hearing here, so do you want to try that again?”

“I’m Fine.” A low growl emerged from her voice box.

V looked unamused. “Follow me.”

“Why.”

“I said we would talk, now follow, I have stuff to show you.”

J just glared at her, tail flicking around.

“Do it or I’ll carry you like a kid” V firmly told J.

“... Fine…”

“Thank you, now follow.”

V glided down to the bed they had dragged in. J followed suit.

“Sit. I need to grab something.”

J sat on the bed. N was playing with the trash pile. Oh company leadership, what does she want from me. 

J waited for V. Is she going to tell me that I need to leave? That I’m replaced? Of course she will, what else would she want to talk about.

When V came back, she had a box with a handle.

“What’s in there?” J watched the box as it was placed down on the bed, eyeing it as if it would move without supervision on it.

“Just some stuff.” V sat down beside J and began rummaging through the box. She pulled out a hair brush.

“While we talk I'm fixing your hair.”

“I can do that myself thank you very much.”

“No.” V reached for the bow that held her hair in place.

“No! Stop! I can do it!” J swatted her hand away.

“The only reason you haven’t is because you don’t know how to do it.” V pulled the bows out, J’s hair fell down.

“I-I can!”

“If I remember correctly, you always asked for someone else to do it.”

“I-Uh-Fine, you can.”

While V brushed J’s hair they talked.

“So what’s going on?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I know you dislike Uzi, But why?” V talked in a soft tone.

“Because we need to kill her? Why do you like her, hm?” J shot back.

“... I don’t have an answer for you, I don’t even have an answer for myself.”

“Besides, I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“I think it’d help you to talk. I know it’s not the kid, but it’s something.”

“It is the kid, It’s what she means.”

“Then what does she mean to you?”

J snarled “She’s a replacement.”

“How?”

“You guys hate me, it was just a matter of time until you replaced me.” J said coldly.

V was stunned.

“How can you be replaced?”

“She’s a better candidate in your mind, of course you’d pick her over me.”

“Why can’t we have 4 drones? Why does it need to be 3?”

“... She is a replacement. Stop it.”

“You need to stop it!”

“Would she even like me. I've attacked her 3 times, well tried to.”

“She would…” V stopped brushing J’s hair to grab something from her box. She pulled out a piece of folded up paper and handed it to J.

J took the paper and opened it up. It was a drawing with 3 tall drones and a short one. Above them read ‘My FmiLEy’ and below each drone was a name. From left to right it read  ‘moM    mE    dAd    ANT’.

“One of you told her to make this, or N did.”

“No… She made it herself… She considers you a part of her family.” V started to brush again.

“You told her to add me.”

“No, she chose to add you and call you her aunt.”

And that was the stick that broke the camel's back.

The tears fell slowly, but became rapid. She leaned into V, cries becoming soft but audible.

“Oh-Ah, you were holding it all back, huh?”

“Y-Yeah”

V started to pat her back “There there, you're fine, you're safe, I’m right here.”

J sobbed, hard.

“I-I just don’t want t-to be Forgotten…Replaced…Useless…Hurt…Killed. I just want to be helpful, not a disappointment, something that should be thrown away.”

“I promise you won’t” and a wave of calm washed over J. She stopped sobbing as hard. She melted into V, finding comfort in it. She felt drowsy.

“How d-do I know th-that for sure?”

“... You don’t, and there is no real way to prove it, but, you just have to trust…”

“But I don’t want to misplace my trust…” Not again…

“Sometimes, we have to take leaps of faith, if we don’t then, we’d be stuck.”

“Yea…”

“I think a way you could express your worries could be through poetry…”

“I'll consider it…”

V comforted J for sometime. J was lightly sleeping on her when she felt something grab her leg.

“Don’t kick, just look…” V whispered.

J opened her eyes, the thi-Uzi, Uzi had grabbed her leg and was smiling up at her.

“H-Hello?” Her voice was sore from crying. “W-What are you doing?” J looked at her quizzically.

“Hugging you! You looked like you needed one.” Her smile was so large and happy.

J’s expression softened. She is putting all her trust in me to not hurt her. 

Did she misplace her trust?

Did she worry about being replaced?

Did she block off all connections to her family?

Did she harm herself?

Did she hurt others?

Did she do anything I did to myself?

Did she do anything that I did to them?

No.

No she didn’t.

No she won’t.

So I’ll try to learn from her.

So I’ll try to play with her.

So I’ll try to be close.

So I’ll try to forget my worries.

So I’ll try to forgive them.

So I’ll try to care for them too.

So I’ll try to be better.

Just like her.

“Y-Yea,”

“I think I do…”

[shadowdaddies]

Hello can you write Manon x female reader where she is very short so she’s always making Manon help her reach something it’s funny

Lift Me Up

Manon Blackbeak x short Reader

With a grunt, you jumped towards the open cabinet, fingertips brushing the basket of leather hair ties Manon had stowed just out of your reach. As much as she  teased when you were too short to do certain things, you swore the witch placed everything so high so that you had to ask for her help.

“Manoooon,” you called in a sing-song voice, a meek smile accompanying the doe eyes you gave her as she strode into the bathroom with an amused expression. 

Long white hair fell around her sharp cheekbones as she towered over you, arms folded expectantly as her gaze flicked from the open cabinet and back to you. “Yes, love?”

Gesturing dramatically to the high cabinet, you huffed, “I can’t reach the ties, and I need to braid my hair before we leave.” 

Manon’s amusement turned darker, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face as she leaned against the edge of the counter. “That’s a little pitiful, don’t you think? What do you do when I’m not around to do everything for you?” she teased, brow cocked at you in challenge.

You huffed indignantly, gaze flicking up to the wicker basket. “Fine,” you muttered, pushing yourself up on the countertop until your knees hit the marble. Stretching your arm, you felt the pull on your muscles as your fingertips fumbled for the edge of the basket.

A sharp smack to your ass pulled a gasp from your lips, back arching as you fell against Manon’s chest. “Thank you for this view,” she murmured against your waist, hands kneading your backside.

Giggling at her antics, you turned and leaned down to give her a chaste kiss. “Will you just help me please?” you breathed out with a laugh.

“Of course, little one,” Manon cooed, hands moving to your hips as she lifted you up where you could easily grab the basket. Guiding you back down to the ground, Manon’s chest pressed against your back, the witch brushing your hair to the side as she kissed down your neck.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” she murmured, licking up the shell of your ear. A vulpine smile graced her lips as you shivered under her sensual touch, nodding eagerly as your eyes fluttered closed. Long nails lightly grazed your scalp as Manon pulled your hair back in a neat braid, one hand moving to wrap around your waist as the other grabbed the basket, effortlessly putting it back on the shelf.

With a scoff, you wiggled out of her grip and headed towards the warrens. 

“Where do you think you’re going? You know you can’t even get up on Abraxos’s saddle without my help,” Manon teased, closing the cabinet as she followed you down the hall. Greeting Abraxos, you smiled as he craned his neck down so you could pet his snout. 

“She’s bullying me again,” you whispered to the beast, giggling at the scathing look in the wyvern’s eyes as he snorted disapprovingly at Manon. With a roll of her golden eyes, the witch walked around you, amusement in her expression as she locked her fingers together, crouching slightly as she held her hands out to help you jump into the saddle. 

Sauntering over to her, you placed a kiss on Manon’s cheek before hopping on Abraxos’s back where she joined you. You smiled peacefully, settling back against her warmth, grateful for your tall witch who was always there to help you.

[xxbyimm]

Anima Nera - Severus Snape x OC - Chapter 2 - Night Terrors

New to Sev's journey? Chapter 1.

Anima Nera - Severus Snape x OC - Chapter 2 - Night Terrors

Summary: Suzy is burdened by nightmares, in which a certain Potion's Master plays a huge role. Naturally, she will make said Potion's Master aware of that fact.

Warnings: The first few paragraphs of this chapter contain explicit sexual content. If you don't wish to read that, you can easily skip them by scrolling past the italic text. Take care, lovelies! ❤❤

Author’s note: The dynamic between Sev and Suzy is killing me already (AFDFSJLJGJGJGGJG). And though this fic might be a slown burn, that doesn't stop me from adding smut here and there. You're welcome... 😈😈😈

‘Hel(l) hath no fury like a woman scorned.’

—William Congreve

August, 1990

Severus was everywhere. His hands slid up and down her back, setting the nerves of her spine on fire. His lips marked a passageway of fervent adoration from her neck down to the soft swells of her breasts. A small moan escaped Suzy’s mouth and nails dug into his shoulder blades, desperate to alleviate her sweet misery.

The room and bed sheets had been bitterly cold before—much like the man that was currently sheathed deep inside of her—but as the time passed the icy sting had turned into a rather delightful contrast to the heat that emanated from her skin. Suzy’s head spun, irrevocably intoxicated on alcohol and something much more dangerous and sweet. It had been fate that had brought them to The White Wyvern at the same time, and a little bit too much fire whisky—or had it been dragon barrel brandy?—had given Suzy the liquid courage to make her move. And Sev, as it turned out, had been just as eager to take her home.

Comfortably seated on his lap, Suzy rolled her hips against his, and a shaky breath escaped her as her own movements sparked delicious flutterings deep in her core. Her frame was trembling, covered in a slight sheen of sweat. She was tiptoeing a tightrope, trying her hardest not to fall—if she did, he would follow and all would be over. But he was so tantalizing, so distracting, so, so— ‘For heaven’s sake,’ Severus moaned in his low tone as she delivered another stroke, his hands brushing over her neck and pulling her into yet another messy kiss that left them both speechless. Their eyes locked—the darkest shade of chocolate mingling with hazel tones—and Suzy couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks painted in a rosy pink. ‘Losing control?’ She breathed, her hips resuming their rhythm.

Severus' eyes flashed with an emotion she and her drunken state couldn’t properly place, and Suzy found her world spinning on its axis, her frame rolling onto the mattress and her face landing on the cold pillow that had been tragically vacant before. A light-hearted giggle escaped her, turning into a breathy sigh as Severus entered her core once more, the stretch eliciting a slight sting. Oh God—he was perfect.

Severus didn’t give her time to adjust—rightfully so—and set a harsh, torturing pace that made her cry his name in the pillowcase. He groaned darkly at that, his right hand wrapping around her hair, his fingers digging harshly in the unruly strands. Suzy’s mind fluttered and pleasure coursed through her veins. It was too much—his touch, his hot breath fanning her neck, his manhood burying itself in her core again and again—she was not going to last, not while he was so unrelenting…

But then, it was there. So soft, so fleeting that one could easily have missed the sound that was uttered. A name, quietly spoken under a labored breath.

‘Lily….’

Suzy woke up, a small cry echoing through her bedroom. With her heart still drumming in her chest—rushing her blood through her system—Suzy sat up on her bed, checking in on Hel first. Relief washed over her when she found Hel soundly asleep on her nightstand in a self made nest—the blanket Suzy had provided her small draconic companion with.

Suzy’s arm tingled—as if a hundred Cornish pixies were gnawing on her skin—and she groaned, impatiently shaking her limb until the heavy feeling eased. She cast a glance upon her skin, but it was too dark to see the cause of the numbness she currently experienced. She knew the change was there though; despite her best efforts, her body still betrayed her in her sleep—especially after a nightmare.

A quiet sob escaped her, the first one of many to follow. Hadn’t this burden that was hers to carry been more than enough? Why did he have to make it worse?! Her heart ached with a deep shame and sorrow, the kind she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for a long time. It was his fault she was back at square one, and his alone. Suzy clenched her jaw and kicked her duvet cover away. Over the years she had learned that sleeping after a dream like this was hopeless; she had been driven insane by the echoes of Lily’s name bouncing around in her mind. Unfortunately there was only one remedy: a splash of cold water to properly wake her up and hard, physical labor to drown out every possible thought after.

With a sigh, Suzy dragged herself out of bed and retrieved her wand from under Hel’s blanket. She had yet to find out what her draconic friend actually hoped to achieve by stealing her wand, but Hel slept more soundly with it. Suzy stumbled through the unfamiliar surroundings of her room and to her own surprise, she made it to the bathroom relatively unscathed, only stubbing her toe once on the doorpost. ‘Lumos,’ she murmured and a small orb of white light extracted from the tip of her wand, rising to the ceiling. Suzy walked up to the washbasin and leaned against it, soothing the dull pain in her toe by massaging her foot. After the worst of the pain had passed, Suzy peered into the mirror. Her face bore the telltale signs of a nightmare—messy hair, a frazzled expression in her eyes and tear stricken cheeks. ‘Keep it together, Brown.’ She instructed her reflection, anger coating her voice. ‘It’s been five years and twice as many men ago, get a grip on yourself.’

The bottom lip of the woman in the mirror trembled, the rims of her eyes already overflowing with tears again. ‘Stop it!’ Suzy murmured, throwing her wand on the shelf above the sink and opening the faucet. She watched the water splash over her hands and wrists and absentmindedly stroked her arm—the skin looked normal, yet was still a bit rough to the touch. She heaved a sigh and splashed some water in her face. This nonsense had to stop. She had vowed that she would overcome this stupid infatuation, that it wouldn’t hurt her as much as it once had. But yet, here she was.

It still hurt.

There was one advantage to those accursed dreams—by the time noon rolled around, Suzy had scrubbed and organized her new office from floor to ceiling, only leaving her post once to call upon Argus Filch’ help; Hogwarts caretaker had begrudgingly agreed to come see her later.

Suzy’s stomach rumbled as she exited the door of her office and moved to her classroom. She knew she should take a break, but that awful name was still there—like the black stain on her desk that had taken her an hour to remove. The more she tried to push the memory away, the more incessant its’ singing had become. ‘Lily, Lily, Lily….’

The worst of it all was that Suzy couldn’t bring herself to hate Lily Evans; thanks to Professor Slughorn parties she had come to know Lily as the kind, gifted woman she had been. It hadn’t been Lily’s fault that apparently Snape still was hung up over her. If anything, it was a shame what had happened to Lily and her family, even more so because evil tongues had claimed Snape to be responsible for the Potter’s untimely deaths.

Her stomach gurgled again and Suzy heaved a weary sigh. Maybe some form of human contact would help her drown out her unwanted thoughts, given that Severus Snape remained out of her sights. Which, considering her luck, would be impossible.

Suzy straightened her black velvet flared pants and brushed a small glitter—which came from the crescent moons printed upon said pants—from her white blouse. She had put her hair into a messy bun with a festive silver ribbon, which bravely held her updo together. It was a miracle that the ribbon had made it this far, usually Hel would have tried to snatch it from her head already—for as a true dragon, Hel adored shiny things. Suzy eyed her companion, who was still lounging on Suzy’s desk, following her human with her observant, golden eyes. ‘You probably sense something’s off,’ Suzy murmured, more to herself than Hel. ‘And you’re right.’

‘Good afternoon, Miss Brown.’

Suzy whirled around at the sudden sound of a voice materializing in her classroom. She had half expected one of Hogwarts’ ghosts, but she was met with none other than Argus Filch, eyeing her with that signature surly expression of his while balancing a ladder over his shoulder. A long-haired cat with pointy ears and reddish eyes with the interesting name of Mrs. Norris circled around his feet and Suzy briefly wondered if Filch had ever stumbled over the feline—it seemed so inevitable.

Suzy put on a smile. ‘Hello Mister Filch. Thank you for coming so soon.’ Filch eyed her like she personally had dragged him from his comfortable office—she had, though in her defense, not physically—and it made Suzy grin. She might have been a tad too direct for the caretakers’ taste, but she needed to get this done sooner than later. ‘I would appreciate it if you—’

Behind them, Hel growled—her golden eyes focused on Mrs. Norris, who was watching her draconic counterpart with the same distrust. ‘Play nice,’ Suzy instructed Hel in a firm tone. ‘Mrs. Norris is here with Mister Filch.’ ‘Is that a dragon you have there?’ Filch asked slowly, peering behind Suzy and his eyes slightly widening. ‘Dragons have been forbidden to enter the castle since the early twelve hundredths. The headmaster—’ ‘I assure you that the headmaster already knows about Hel’s existence,’ Suzy cut him off. ‘If you wish to tell him anyway, then you’re free to do so. For now, I’m glad that you came.’ ‘Aye,’ Filch replied, though his eyes were still fixed upon Hel. ‘You said you had a problem with your broken….’

To the ailment of her broken heart Filch probably had no cure, so Suzy gestured at the practical issue she had encountered. ‘Like I said this morning, the windows won’t open. I fear they are glued shut, but I would be happy if you would take a look for me.’ Filch nodded quickly and set out to work while Mrs. Norris now circled the ladder—as if she could break her master’s fall if he toppled over. ‘I have tried all kinds of spells,’ Suzy told Hogwarts’ caretaker as she watched him pry at the small ceiling windows. Hel landed on her shoulder, no doubt in wanting to oversee the affair. Suzy absentmindedly patted her dragon’s neck. ‘They just won’t budge.’

A few minutes passed, in which Suzy watched Filch murmuring to himself and Mrs. Norris meowing back at her human, as if they were having a private conversation. ‘It appears they are glued shut,’ Filch determined after at last and Mrs. Norris hissed. ‘Okay,’ Suzy replied. ‘Now what?!’ ‘Not to worry, Miss. I know just the thing,’ Filch reassured her as he descended from his ladder. ‘I’ll be back.’ With that, Filch exited the classroom, leaving Suzy and Hel behind. Mrs. Norris eyed the both of them for a second, her stark gaze burning through both dragon and human, before turning away and chasing after her human with a loud cry.

Hel made a disgruntled sound, to which Suzy shrugged. ‘I have no idea what’s up with that cat,’ she told her draconic friend and peered at the ladder. ‘She’s rather creepy, don’t you think?’

Her stomach rumbled for a third time, begging Suzy to find herself something to eat, but Suzy ignored the urgent call and climbed the ladder to inspect her windows upclose. Hel snarled and flapped with her wings—probably trying to tell her human that climbing a ladder on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea—but Suzy ignored that protest too—simply too engrossed in her goal to notice.

Upon closer inspection, nothing seemed wrong with the windows—the brass hasp looked in perfect condition and certainly not tempered with, magically or otherwise. Suzy frowned and leaned against the small ridge before pushing against the handle. ‘Come on,’ she murmured as she increased the pressure, causing the ladder to wobble slightly. ‘This is ridiculous, it’s just a—’

‘You’re not going to be able to open them,’ a lazy, low tone informed her. ‘These windows have been closed off for years.’ Suzy shrieked and shot up, causing the ladder to wobble precariously. Hel yelped and jumped off her human’s shoulder—no doubt to save her own skin, the egoistic serpent. Suzy froze and held her breath, her fingers curling around the sturdy wood as she prayed the ladder would not topple with her on it. (Un-)luckily, Severus Snape calmly strode her way and steadied the ladder before anything went truly wrong.

‘Goodness,’ Suzy hissed, looking down on him. ‘Must you truly startle me like this?! I could have hurt myself!’ ‘And you could have used your magic,’ Snape retorted, looking up. He raised a brow. ‘Tell me, are you always so… painfully rude?’ At least she remembered each of her lover’s names when she was with them. Suzy eyed him defiantly. ‘You call it rude, I might call it being straightforward.’ ‘Really?’ he countered. ‘You call that being straightforward? How intriguing.’ ‘I’m glad I could be of service,’ she said as she clambered down the ladder. ‘Yet I could learn a thing or two from you. You seem to deliver insult after insult with such grace!’ ‘Thank you for noticing, Miss Brown,’ he said, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. ‘It’s Professor Brown,’ she argued, looking up at him now—a consequence of having her feet firmly planted onto the stone floor again. Snape awarded her with a cold smile. ‘You haven’t even survived one day of class, Professor.’ ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ Suzy replied with a shrug. ‘Though we can’t all be as brilliant as you, Professor.’ ‘While that is true,’ Snape agreed. ‘I advise you to stop mocking me. It’s not a good color on you.’ She laughed mirthlessly and spun around for him—her black and white outfit clearly matching his. ‘That’s just too bad,’ she remarked. ‘It’s precisely your color palette. You, on the other hand, should do well toning the sarcasm down.’

He eyed her with disdain and heaved a weary sigh. ‘I see you view our conversations as a misguided challenge of some sort.’ ‘Are they not?’ She questioned with a seemingly innocent tone. ‘And if you don’t enjoy them, then why did you decide to bother me?’ His retort was on point. ‘Because my office is across the hall and you have a very boisterous nature, Professor Brown. I know you’ve been hauling around things in your office since four in the morning.’ ‘You must excuse me for that. I had a nightmare, which greatly unsettled me,’ Suzy told him, her gaze skimming his frame—buttoning up his black coat every day surely had to be a tedious task indeed. ‘If you must know,’ she continued. ‘It was about you.’

There was a short pause, in which Snape had the decency to look slightly unsettled. Then, a faint trace of a genuine smile crossed his face, disappearing so fast that Suzy doubted if it had been there in the first place. ‘I apologize for the inconvenience,’ Snape said dryly. ‘Usually I only haunt students.’ ‘Truly?’ She asked as she fought with the corners of her mouth—she was still mad at him, he didn’t deserve to see her laugh. ‘Well, the next time you decide to float your way into my bedroom and scare me, I will have my revenge.’ ‘Trashing your own office in the middle of the night seems sufficient, doesn’t it?!’ ‘No, that’s not going to be enough,’ she argued. ‘So you must understand that I will continue with yours.’ ‘Naturally.’ ‘So stay out of my nightmares,’ Suzy told him, sending him an awful glare. ‘I have enough ghouls to entertain me as it is.’ ‘I assure you I will do my best,’ Snape said. ‘I have no desire occupying your subconscious more than I have to.’ He eyed her with an unreadable expression. ‘In the meantime, you probably should eat something before Filch arrives with one of his glue removing concoctions.’ She crossed her arms. ‘And you care because?’ He shrugged. ‘By all means, stay in here and see if you can endure the stench. It will relieve you of your appetite for the rest of the day.’ ‘I’m not—’ Suzy began, but then Hel uttered a small squeak, causing the two Professors to look up.

Hel was perched upon the small ridge near the windows, her tail swishing as she watched her human with terrifying precision—her golden eyes glinting. Suzy knew exactly what was going to happen: in a few seconds, Hel would launch her attack—she was going to chase her human until she had the much coveted silver ribbon in her claws. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ Suzy muttered under her breath. ‘Here we go.’ ‘What—’ Snape began, watching the event that was about to unfold in confusion—evidently he had never dealt with a teacup dragon before. ‘Hel, no.’ Suzy warned, slowly backing away. ‘This is my ribbon. I bought it only three weeks ago and you have five already in your den.’ Hel squeaked again, clearly not impressed by the argument laid out before her; those five ribbons were already chewed upon, the fabric torn and tarnished. This particular ribbon was fresh and so… shiny. ‘Damn it,’ Suzy groaned and reached for her wand, ready to change the ribbon into a less attractive color. ‘That was my last one. I swear she—HEL, I SAID NO!’

It was too late to wave her wand now. Hel had launched herself from the window sill and dove claw’s straight at her human’s hair. Unfortunately for Hel, Suzy had been dealing with these antics for a few months now—she snatched her pet from the air with ease. Hel hissed at such uncivil behavior, but Suzy wasn’t having it. ‘Hel, I told you no!’ She said sternly. ‘I know you know the meaning of the word.’ Hel struggled in Suzy’s grip, her small claws scrawling against her human’s hands. When her resistance proved to be futile, she growled and let a small flame escape from her nostrils. ‘Young lady!’ Suzy cried out, holding up Hel in front of her face. ‘This is unacceptable! What did I tell you about fire indoors?!’

‘So you brought a fire-breathing dragon inside the castle that doesn’t deign itself to listen to your instructions?’ Snape questioned in his lazy drawl. ‘How… characteristic.’

Both Suzy and Hel turned their heads, simultaneously glaring at the Potion’s Master—their battle over the sparkly ribbon already forgotten. How dared he insult them like that? ‘Excuse me?!’ Suzy demanded and Hel squeaked. ‘You two are ridiculous,’ Snape said, exasperation coating his tone. ‘I’m on the fence whether that dragon will destroy the whole castle first or if you will beat it to it.’ Suzy allowed Hel to wrestle herself out of her hands and watched her pet dragon fly towards their shared office. ‘Well,’ she then said, turning to Snape again. ‘I’m sure that answer will be far less difficult for you to unwrap when you keep vexing me.’ ‘You really think I wish to be here?!’ he clapped back, his dark eyes flashing. ‘Dumbledore gave me orders to keep an eye on you, which is the only reason why I bother to spend my precious time in the same room as you.’ ‘You arrogant. insufferable—’ ‘Ah, you’ve decided to extend your expert analysis on my character, Professor Brown? Do go on, I still wish to hear it.’ Suzy waved dismissively with her hand, knowing it would annoy him to no end. ‘Your character hardly needs any extensive analysis at all, Professor Snape.’ ‘Meaning?’ Snape demanded as he crossed his arms.

Hagrid had made her promise him that she would apologize to Professor Snape and though Suzy knew it would be for the best if she did, she just… She eyed the man that had broken her heart, who was currently looking at her like she was the worst thing that had ever happened to him—a sentiment she shared. Apologizing felt like admitting defeat; as if she was going to let him have that.

‘An extensive analysis requires a subject of a certain complexity or its’ purpose is rendered useless,’ she mused, firmly aware she was only making it worse for herself, but losing this match was impossible. ‘In your case, any additional information is unnecessary because the conclusion is already clear as day.’ ‘The fact that you didn’t consider educating yourself through multiple sources before drawing a conclusion makes you quite short-sighted,’ Snape argued in a calm tone. ‘And may I remind you that not forming or testing a hypothesis before hasting to a conclusion is yet another grave mistake?’

He could pull the academically inclined Professor card on her all he liked, but Suzy had grown quite accustomed to working in the field—especially the quick thinking that had come with it. She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes sparkling with glee. ‘So,’ she began as she tried her best to hold back a grin, but the corners of her mouth were unrelenting. ‘You mean to say I should give you another chance? To prove myself wrong?’

Severus took the blow in stride, eyeing her shortly with that annoying unreadable expression. ‘What an interesting change of tactic, Professor Brown,’ he said. ‘However, it’s abundantly clear that you are the one who should be begging me for a second chance.’ She chuckled. ‘Oh, I beg to differ.’ His dark eyes gleamed dangerously. ‘We’ve reached a stalemate, then.’ ‘Certainly.’ ‘Very well,’ Severus established. ‘I will tell Dumbledore you won’t need any further assistance. Good day, Miss Brown.’

With that, Snape turned around and strode towards the door, his cloak floating dramatically in his wake, his pace certain and sharp. Suzy watched the Potion’s Master disappear into the hallway, her eyes set on his jet black hair that matched the shade of his heart, certainly not recalling how her fingers had once raked— Suzy pinched the bridge of her nose, while mentally shoving the images that flooded her mind aside. An exasperated sigh escaped from her lips. What was happening here? She had no intention of being dragged into these pointless arguments, but he managed to push all her buttons. He was so aggravating, so utterly condescending, so… mean!

Though she would rather die than admit it to a certain Potion’s Master, after their encounter Suzy quickly realized that he had been right about Filch—the stench of the glue remover was so horrible that she had been forced to flee her classroom and abandon her office directly after. But even as she had sought refuge in the safety of her bedroom, the odor simply seeped through the cracks of her door and made both Hel’s as her own eyes water. A dung bomb was no match for the pungent smell that this concoction emanated; she could only hope Filch knew what he was doing. And that a certain colleague of theirs wasn’t right about the effectiveness of this remedy.

Protecting Hel from the worst stench, Suzy cradled her dragon friend in one of her shawls and fled the dungeons—the staircase seemingly endless. She hadn’t heard Snape leaving his quarters; was it bad of her to hope he was suffering from the stench too? Or even better, maybe he had passed out, relieving the world of his condescending presence for a minute.

‘Good afternoon, Professor Brown!’ a house-elf with lopsided ears and gray eyes that almost bulged out of their sockets greeted her at the top of the stairs, causing Suzy to stumble. ‘I apologize, ma’am!’ It squeaked. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’ ‘No matter,’ Suzy replied with a firm nod after she had steadied herself. ‘I was in thought.’ The house-elf sniffed. ‘And running from that stench down below, I presume? Has mister Filch persuaded you to let him use his glue remover on those windows? I fear they have been stuck forever, us house-elves have never succeeded in opening them.’ ‘So Professor Snape was right,’ Suzy said with a sigh. ‘Of course.’ The house-elf watched her with interest and fiddled with his frock, which seemed to be a velvet pillowcase in a rich purple color. ‘Professor Snape—I mean, I wish to inform you that we missed you at breakfast. We’ve prepared a meal for you, which is waiting in the teacher’s lounge.’ Hel showed her face at the mention of breakfast, a concept she knew too well. The house-elf didn’t seem surprised to find Suzy’s draconic companion comfortably curled up in her arms. ‘We’ve prepared something for Helena too,’ the elf said. ‘We do hope she likes chicken.’ Hel purred and Suzy chuckled. ‘Actually, chicken is her favorite. Though she doesn’t mind eating the odd bug she finds here and there.’ The house-elf inclined his head. ‘I’m glad to hear that. Now if you excuse me, Professor Brown, I must continue with my work.’ ‘Yes, of course!’ She said. ‘Thank you so much for setting aside breakfast for me. Hel and I could have waited for lunch, truly.’ ‘You could,’ the house-elf agreed. ‘But you’ve already made friends here at Hogwarts, and they don’t wish to see you starve.’

After Suzy and Hel had eaten their fill at the empty teacher’s lounge—for which she was glad—Suzy made her way towards the former History of Magic classroom. She still had ample time to prepare for her first term, but starting from scratch while her predecessor was still mentally present, would be a stupid thing to do. Though Professor Binns could easily bore one to death, surely he had developed some sort of a lesson plan she could put to use.

With Hel perched upon her shoulder, Suzy made her way through the castle and entertained her dragon friend with all kinds of anecdotes and facts. ‘Oh, and remind me I have to show you where I received my first kiss,’ Suzy told Hel, pointing in the way of the clocktower courtyard. ‘It was Amos Warrington, who you will surely meet in no time. I’m not sure how we should feel about that, but it certainly will be interesting enough.’ Hel squeaked, probably not that interested in her human’s former romantic conquests, her golden eyes already following a dragonfly that was roaming through the empty hallway. ‘Not now, Hel.’ Suzy murmured. ‘You just had breakfast. I don’t want you to get sick.’ Hel growled at that, certainly not agreeing with the mentioned fact—every dragon knew that a dragonfly was nothing more than a complimentary snack… ‘Forget about that stupid insect,’ Suzy told her dragon as she knocked upon the History of Magic classroom’s door. ‘We have stuff to do.’

They waited for a few seconds in silence, during which Hel mewled longingly at the dragonfly that still occupied the hallway. Suzy heaved a weary sigh before opening the door and stepping inside—Professor Binns was a ghost, surely he would not deign himself to answer her call.

The History of Magic classroom was exactly as she remembered; the vivid stained glass windows on the right, depicting Merlin and King Arthur, the dozen oaken study desks, the moldy odor of decaying parchment and old books… Suzy inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar surroundings as several fond memories flashed before her mind’s eye. Despite the fact that this class had been the most boring of all, Suzy always loved learning from the past—a passion her father had bestowed upon her. Her heart ached. She missed him dearly.

Suzy found Professor Binns in his usual spot: sitting hunched over at his desk in front of the classroom, engrossed in his studies. He was murmuring in himself, evidently unaware of his visitor. Suzy cleared her throat and waited, but Professor Binns went on with his studies like she was nothing but thin air—an ironic paradox indeed. ‘Excuse me,’ Suzy announced herself, ignoring Hel, who was fidgeting upon her shoulder. ‘Professor Binns?’ ‘The dates do not add up,’ Professor Binns said to himself. ‘Which is strange. The war must have been….’ ‘Hello?!’ Suzy tried again and Hel squeaked—already having enough of this ghost-man who wasn’t giving her or her human any attention. ‘Ah, of course. That 9 must be a 7, then it—yes.’ ‘Professor Binns!’

Hel flapped her wings and leapt from Suzy’s shoulder. She soared through the room, flying straight across Professor Binns—a strangled cry rising from her as she did so; apparently passing through a ghost wasn’t a pleasant experience, how surprising! Professor Binns, on the other hand, looked up—the disturbance big enough to distract him from his work.

‘Hel!’ Suzy cried out, rushing towards the front desk. ‘Come back here, young lady! It’s not polite to fly through ghosts, let alone our colleagues!’ ‘Ah,’ Professor Binns said, finally noticing Suzy. ‘Miss…? What can I do for you? I haven’t looked at your paper yet, I’ve been busy with my studies.’ ‘Susannah Brown,’ Suzy informed him as she took Hel in her arms. ‘Professor Dumbledore asked me to take over your classes. I came to ask—’ ‘I’m rather busy, I’m afraid.’ ‘I know that,’ Suzy said. ‘I just want to know if I can borrow your lesson plans to prepare myself for the upcoming term.’ ‘Lesson plans?’ Professor Binns repeated, a befuddled expression written on his face. ‘I might… It has been years… Let me see—’

He floated away to his personal quarters, leaving Suzy and Hel to stand in front of his desk. Suzy gave Hel a stern glare, to which her little draconic companion purred. ‘It did work,’ Suzy caved in, placing a kiss on Hel’s head. ‘And I have to thank you for that. But remember, it’s not polite to fly through people; not to mention it can be a rather uncomfortable experience.’

Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Feedback is always welcome. Did you like my work? Spread the love and reblog! :)

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[creative-frequency]

Raphael x Reader: Act II: The Dinner, pt.1

Summary: Your patron Raphael invites you for a dinner with multiple ulterior motives. Part 1 of 2. Word count: 2219 Notes: Dinner date with the devil man coming right up 😘

The lanceboard was left in disorder. The white Cyric was toppled by the board. The match between the devil and the most cunning and ambitious tiefling child in the Sword Coast had ended in the latter’s victory – spurred on by some insightful advice from Gale.

You had no idea what a Theskan Double Counter-Gambit was, but you had an inkling that Raphael had let Mol win, just to grow her appetite for triumph. Concerned, but dedicated to not interfering, you looked after Mol as she returned to her friends. You had no right to moral superiority or telling her what to do. If a deal with the devil – your devil patron – was what she thought the best move in this game of survival, then a deal she would make. Just like you had done to survive. You might only advise Mol to read the fine print carefully.

It had been surprising to meet Raphael at the Last Light Inn, though you assumed it shouldn’t have been. No doubt he had something on his mind, and the presumption caused a buildup of anxiety and something akin to a thrill in you.

Raphael seemed to sense that you felt familiarity with Mol’s situation, because he gave you a cursory glance before turning to address Astarion with a pointed finger. What the glance meant, you had no idea.

“Now, let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me,” Raphael mused.

Taken aback, you turned to face Astarion, whose chin lifted up sharply. Gale and Shadowheart shared your impression and traded confused looks. Out of your whole group, you had always been the closest with Astarion. Secrets and thoughts had been shared just between you two, along with multiple bottles of wine. Raphael had not shown interest in any of your companions in your previous encounters, so for him to do so now was… disconcerting.

“I do. I have a…” Astarion hesitated, obstinately avoiding your gaze, “proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” Raphael repeated, clearly intrigued and chuckled. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

“This is serious business, devil,” Astarion interjected and proceeded to explain: “My old – well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d rather like to know what they say.”

Cazador. Astarion was talking about his old master. Alarms blared in your mind.

Raphael let out a long hum and looked more complacent with each syllable.

Right then you also realised why Astarion had been casually asking about Raphael and your contract earlier. He had even said he would like to have a chat with the devil. Completely out of curiosity, of course, and just because he thought the devil rather liked your miserable little group. You should have known the vampire spawn had something else in mind.

“What do you mean? What scars?” you asked Astarion, brows furrowed with worry. He still didn’t look back at you.

Raphael’s eyes glinted with interest.

“You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you,” the devil said, exultant at this revelation of secrecy.

The comment filled your insides with icy discomfort on Astarion’s behalf. You could have sworn Raphael held back the beginnings of a smirk as his gaze glinted over to you.

“That’s enough, Raphael. Can you help him?” you said pointedly. A severe heart-to-heart would be waiting for Astarion at camp, but he didn’t deserve being debased like that.

“I might. If you ask nicely, little raven,” the devil prompted and you rolled your eyes in exasperation. Raphael and his theatrics.

He took another moment to contemplate. Astarion tensed beside you. Gale and Shadowheart monitored the situation, worry etched on their faces.

Raphael finally continued: “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter, a warning, or a deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.”

“So you know what it’s about?” you pushed.

“Of course. But, you’ll have to do something for me first.” Raphael tapped his chin in thought, then casually pointed at you – not Astarion. “Let me think about it and get back to you.”

The motion made you feel ever more severely that the line was meant specifically to you rather than your group as a whole. Your pulse sped up.

“Fine,” you replied, cutting Astarion’s attempted reply off and ushered your party to leave. “Let’s go.”

You had just found out you rather hated the idea of your patron tempting your friends into contracts or roping them into acts of service. You didn’t remember harbouring any territorial feelings before becoming a warlock.

After merely three steps, Raphael cleared his throat behind you. It was enough to make you pause since you knew it meant he was not going to let you leave just yet.

“Tav, a word, if you will,” his honeyed voice rang out.

The use of your name shot a thrill up your spine. And the tone he said it in. It was smoother than the sweetest nectar or dark chocolate melting on your tongue. It indicated the transition from business to pleasure.

You glanced at your companions and gave them a reassuring nod, barely holding yourself together. Raphael waited until you were truly alone. Other people had just been going about their businesses in the Last Light Inn, but for the moment, you only saw Astarion, Gale and Shadowheart discussing with Jaheira at the other end of the large dining area. The Harpers were avoiding the little corner Raphael had set up the lanceboard in.

You sucked in a breath full of that scent of cherries, musk and sulphur and the world around you disappeared, along with any irritation you had just felt towards the devil.

“Tell me, O apple of my eye, how have you been?” Raphael questioned, a hand to his chin. “You don’t have any gills to get green around yet, but you do look a bit worse for wear in this light.”

His brown eyes flickered across you, more gauging and analysing than they had been moments ago in the company of others. His next words were added in a carefully crafted neutral tone, but they still served to make you uneasy:

“You haven’t been summoning me in a while.”

In the cold darkness of the Shadowlands, the unsaid words had often burned in your throat and hovered just at the tip of your tongue: Dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni. The verbal component to the ritual spell that completed the magic of the focus item on your left ring finger. The ring’s phantom weight made you hide your hand behind you. Raphael and your previous encounters with him had been in your thoughts often. Too often.

You cleared your throat and shied away from his measuring gaze.

“I’m fine,” you said curtly.

Raphael raised a brow in disbelief.

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” you asked.

“Yes,  though mayhap somewhere better suited. Why don’t you join me for dinner tonight, my raven, after you’ve taken care of everything here,” Raphael ventured with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

A dinner? Your heart leaped at remembering the last time you had visited the House of Hope. How the warmth had radiated off Raphael’s body and how his fingers had travelled over your – well, his – shirt. That shirt you had now tucked away beneath everything else inside your travel chest. It still smelled like him.

More importantly, you hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Daydreams of the dinner he had served you on your first meeting had also often been on your mind embarrassingly often. Not that there was anything wrong with Gale’s cooking but the options were severely limited at camp.

You barely hesitated before replying: “I’d love to, thank you.”

The corner of Raphael’s mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly.

“Until later then.”

And he was gone with the usual fiery blaze. You had a feeling he had just rushed off to prepare for whatever would be waiting for you at the dinner tonight and your stomach twisted in anticipation.

—

Exhausting hours later, your party settled in the safe haven of the camp for the night. With each passing minute, you grew more anxious, knowing you should summon Raphael to let him know you were ready for the dinner. But, before leaving, you had to tell someone you would be away for some time. Maybe even until the morning. The thought made your pulse grow more rapid and your stomach twist into knots that had nothing to do with hunger.

Eyeing tentatively Karlach, you cowardly approached Astarion, who was reading a book. Karlach had thrown a glorious fit about the infernal ring on your left ring finger and the ritual it was used for. (“What the fuck were you thinking, Tav?!”) The situation had evolved into one of the worst arguments among your group and you were not looking forward to another one.

Karlach wasn’t an unreasonable person, but understandably, dealing with devils made her blood boil. She had almost “smacked the shit out of you”, but you had somewhat successfully argued that, while she didn’t have to like the fact that your powers came from a devil, she would still have to make peace with it one way or another. You were not going to forsake your powers as long as the tadpole swam in your head. Astarion had been disappointed to miss the brawl that the argument had – fortunately – never evolved into.

So Karlach absolutely hated the idea that Raphael had you curled around his little finger, quite literally, and you could bear no other explanation than you had made the pact out of necessity and, for the time being, would not consider trying to worm your way out of it – no pun intended. It was somewhat of a shock to find yourself unable to discuss the details of your contract, but what you could explain was that you needed the warlock powers to survive, and you still owed some ration of allegiance to Raphael because he was your patron.

He was your patron. An excuse you had already heard yourself using a thousand times over.

In her rage, Karlach had burned through her own tent and afterwards you had not spoken outside combat in days.

So, you paused in front of the vampire spawn, wringing your hands nervously.

“Um, Astarion?” you started.

“Yes?” he replied, obviously irritated at the interruption and didn’t lift his gaze from the book in his hands. He was likely still cross with you from the earful you had given him after departing from Last Light Inn. What he had been thinking trying to make a deal with your patron behind your back, you didn’t comprehend. There would be more conversations to be had about the topic, but later.

“I’ll be away for a bit,” you said quickly, “Raphael needs me for something.”

Astarion’s head snapped up as if he couldn’t believe his pointy ears. “What?”

“I’ll be back in a few hours, I think. I’ll see you in the morning,” you explained in a tone that hopefully was carefree enough to not warrant any concern. No matter that Astarion’s vampire senses probably caught your accelerated pulse.

“Seriously?” he protested in a hiss.

You shrugged. “I need to hear what he has to say. He is still my patron.”

Shit. The words had slipped out before you could stop it.

Astarion scoffed, rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “I’ve heard that excuse before…” He flipped a page. “Make him think faster about helping me, will you?”

You stepped forward and placed a hand gently over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t... trust me enough to tell me about the scars before.” The touch hopefully conveyed more than the words.

He didn’t meet your eyes, but you saw how his gaze glazed over for just a trice. “Well. Now you know.”

“I’ll do my best. Wish me luck.”

“Hah. I’m sure you don’t need luck with Raphael.”

You paced a short distance away from camp, not daring to venture too far away into the shadows. The pitch blackness seemed to breathe around you, impatiently waiting for you to take a step further into its embrace. You had seen how the shadows had snatched a Harper when you first arrived at this cursed place.

With a short inhale you recited the words:

“Dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni.”

Warmth filled the air and the sudden smell of sulphur was overwhelming. The ring on your finger felt heavy, almost burning your skin. Your heart thumped uncomfortably and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears.

“Shall we, little raven?”

You spun around towards the voice. Raphael stood there in his human form, dressed more casually than expected. Instead of the elegantly embroidered doublet, he donned a simple, dark shirt. The upper buttons were left open to reveal hints of his toned chest.

You swallowed. Maybe he hadn’t wanted you to feel underdressed in your camp clothing? At least your simple shirt and pants were mostly clean tonight.

Raphael offered his hand for you to take and just as your fingers brushed his palm, you found yourself in the House of Hope.

-

Part 2

My writing masterlist

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Tragon !✨

Trans...dragon..It's funny, right ?- Also, I know it's a wyvern...Dragon sounds better...

It's pride month, so it was the perfect occasion to finally make a dragon, yay ! It's also my first time making something akin to a dragon (technically the second time,, but the first one is truly horrible), and even if the proportion are still a bit out of place, it could have been worse. It's also my first time doing custom wings, but I'll talk about that in more details beneath :}

Also, it needs a name ! I’m really bad with names, but I would gladly take suggestions ! (And here is an alt picture, in its natural habitat-)

Anyways, details/closeups under the cut !

None of these picture below are edited, because it's exam period- Enjoy the green backgrounds :}

I have to say, before any other comment, that I made the body way to heavy for the two poor sockets of the legs. The position above is the only one where it's actually standing upright. Also, my stock of pink and rightly-shaded blue was much smaller than originally anticipated, so I would have done a bunch of tings differently, if it wasn't for that. Still, I was lucky to have that many curved blue pieces for the top part. Well, all of the ones with purple diamonds on them have been forcefully taken from a small Elves dragon, but it was worth it (I also really enjoy the purple here, it contrasts nicely).

All of the joints are mixel socket joints, except for the knees, which are just hinges. It gives a lot of movements, from the tail to the jaw. Even if these are limited, it gives it a wide range of positions (even if, realistically, it won’t change it much from the one I gave it). Still, it can sit ! (Including small trans flag)

The pointy scales on the back are some of the only elements which aren’t directly attacked to the body : one 2*2 plate holds them down, and a modified 2*1 under the plates keeps it from sliding in any other direction, so even with little connections, it doesn’t budge. I really liked these angular pieces. To keep them from being too repetitive, they are only connected to each other by one stud, with a small angle, which gives them a slightly "round" effect.

The tail here is not really complicated, it's just a bunch of socket joints linked together with curved tiles on top (one of the sticker is backward, and it's unnerving, but it's not my fault and I can't risk changing it...), with white arch pieces underneath. Not sure of why I added these in the first place, but it looks cool. And of course, the end of the tail is a big heart, because it simply fits the vibe, doesn't it?

Of course, I can't forget what is the most important, and what makes this creature as cute as it is ! (It is cute, and if that is the hill I have to die on, I will.)

The green background doesn't show it well, but the flame offers a good contrats with the rest of the head, and brings the eyes there first (instead of all the mistakes present). Because there are a bunch of these.

I spent nearly as long on the head as all the other body parts cumulated (except for the wings), because making something detailed yet small enough to be a good head is tough. I actually started from the top (for the piece with the sticker, more exactly), instead of the bottom, like I usually do, in order to get an idea of scale (because I already knew I wanted the jaw to move, and for that I needed to see how big it would be). Then, I did the back to quickly have a neck connection point, to see if it would fit. Because the neck is larger under the connection sockets, the socket of the head is actually pretty high up, but the colours are practically aligned so it works well.

Then, the next thing was the eyes and the spikes. The spikes took me a hile to figure out, because without the rest of the head, they looked kinda dumb, but it does bring the head together when everything is in place. Then the eyes : on the small dragon I took apart, there were these blue tooth pieces which I used to get some texture above them, so that they don't look flat, and then, I connected them to the center connectors of a 2*4 plates. That works well in placement, but I ran into the issue of what would be around. If I didn't do anything, there would be two gaps, which would look terrible. Instead, I stuck two 1*4 tiles in these gaps, and since the tooth pieces are around either side, they don't move - well, not much, they still produce a shaking sound when I'm moving the head.

Then under these plates, I directly have 1*4 pink bricks, which stick out behind the head. At first, it was a problem, and I had nothing else to replace them; but they actually restrict and hold the neck, so that even if the head is technically a bit too heavy, it remains in place.

The actual teeth are modified 2*1 plates, four at the top and four at the bottom. To keep them with such a small gap (and to attach them to either sides of the jaw) I have use modified 1*1 plates with a ring. There is a single one at the bottom, and then underneath a few cut 2*1 and 2*2 curved tiles to make the jaw triangular; and two on top, one which connects it to the head and one with holds the snout (which is using a cheese piece and another one of the blue tooth).

So, custom wings ! It isn't actually complicated, if only a bit tedious. Here below is all that I needed to make them :

As you can see, it's not much. Most important, of course, is a good, solid sheet of paper, and a cutter (precision cutter is better, in my opinion, but anything works). To make things easy (or if, like me, you don't know how to draw properly), you can take a basic lego wing, and trace the outline and where the holes go. I would advise only doing a single, blank one, at first. Once you have your proto-wing, you can start to make the actual frame it will be attached on. I chose to use bricks above it to act as claws, but you can use socket joints, like in most sets. The advantage of using plates is that the overall look is better, but if you want overhangs like I did, you have to get the holes really close to the edge of the wing.

Once you have your frame, trace where the holes would go on it ! (if you used a wing model, it might be easier, but it could also not fit, which is why you make a prototype first). To make holes just the right size, I would advise first cutting squares (easier than circles) at just the right size, then scratching the edges with the blade of the cutter. Once it looks good, try to fit an axle inside. If it just about fits, and can rotate, it's good ! Otherwise, just remove it and scratch again.

When that's done, test if it can correctly fit on your frame. Once that's done, you can either make two wings with that pattern, or simply make another copy. I personally made two new from my first prototype because it took me a while to figure out exactly how to place the holes.

Finally, once you got two wings, you can finally add whatever you want on them (easier when they're not actually on the frame, although that should've been obvious), and you're done :}

I went for a really basic thing, but technically, any shape is possible. I'll likely use it again someday, because it's quite fun !

And of course, the bonus picture, since you’re here ! I like the symbolic of this (also don’t pay attention to the tentacles).

I actually really wanted to get rid of this castle (which was gifted, not exactly desired, although I must admit it’s really well designed), and well. Now, it’s gone, and in its place lies the dragon…and my horrendous crab, too.

[asherbakugou]

Dragon Dictionary

Ra's Al Ghul - Lung | Asiatic Jade Dragon

- Known for diamond hard scales that come in all shades of green

- Sharp teeth curved inwards for catching fish; Hooked talons for catching fish

- Breath poisonous gas

- Fly through the sky in a serpentine fashion

Talia Al Ghul - Lung | Asiatic Jade Dragon/Black Mamba

- Known for diamond hard scales that come in all shades of green

- Sharp teeth curved inwards for catching fish; Hooked talons for catching fish; Fangs filled with venom positioned at the front of the mouth in place of canines

- Black mouth

- Breathe poisonous gas

- Fly through the sky in a serpentine fashion

Bruce Wayne - Wyvern | Black Nightwing

- Wyvern with large black wings and three claws at the end of its wrist to walk on; Diamond hard scales that blend in with the night sky

- Breath black plasma

- Long, straight horns pointed back

- Crocodile like tail for balnce when on hind legs

Slade Wilson - Drake | Sand Drake

- Sand colored scales with darker plates along their back like armor; Impenetrable scales with thick skin

- Wide paws for balance on sand with straight claws; Slender body for moving across sand and hiding in the desert

- Barbed tail like a scorpion

- Breath fire

Chato Santana - Lindwurm/Zilant/Quetzecoatl | Born a Sand Lindwurm - Everburning Feathered Zilant

- Sand colored scales with darker skales specked in, uniquily suited tofold front limbs back and move like a snake through the sand

- Fangs situated at the front of the mouth filled with highly corrosive venom

- Long red, yellow, and orange colored feathers along the top of the skull, down the neck and along large wings, tipped with hooked foreclaws

- Real embers along the spine; Runs naturally hotter than almost any other dragon species

- Feathered tail that leaves behind trails of deadly smoke

- Breathes golden flames

Damian Al Ghul - Wayne - Yinglong | Asiatic Jade Nightwing

- Diamond hard scales with mottled black and green scales that allow them to blend in with the night sky and shadows

- Black mouth with inward curved teeth to catch fish; Hooked talons for catching fish

- Large black wings with single foreclaw and moveable wrist that he can walk on

- Black plasma

- Thin whip like tail

- Long horns curving slightly backwards

Respawn (Achilles Al Ghul - Wilson) - Lung | Jade Sand Dragon

- Impenetrable sand colored scales with green armor like plates down the spine

- Venoumous barb on his tail; Fangs positioned at the front of his mouth are filled with deadly venom

- Wide paws with hooked talons for fish; Black mouth with inward curved teeth for eating fish

- Fly tgrough the sky in a serpentine fashion

- Camouflaged in desert areas

Matteo Al Ghul - Santana - Feathered Yinglong | Everburning Jade Dragon

- Dimaond hard scales in shades of dark green with golden/sandy colored speckled in

- Black mouth; Fangs situated at the front of the mouth filled with corrosive venom; Straight teeth, like a wolves or coyotes

- Large paws with hooked talons for catchin fish

- Green and white feathers around his slender face, down the neck, over the wings, and down the spine

- Embers glow along his back, hidden with the feathers; Runs hotter than nearly all other species of dragon

- Breathes golden-green flames

- Feathered tail leaves smoke trails when he flies

Dick Grayson - Feathered Dragon | Thermotect

- Ice cold, diamond hard scales in all shades from black to white, blue to pink, and more; Specialized feathers along the face, neck and top half of the wings

- Large teeth, like a polar bears; Hooked talon for gripping ice and catching fish

- Blue-black tongue

- Breathe ice

- Wide paws with thick pads to walk across snow and ice

Jason Todd - Feathered Wyvern |Phoenix Drake

- Covered in thick red-orange feathers with darker red ones around the neck, wings, and tail; Fluff covered hind legs with long wicked sharp talons like a Harpy Eagles

- Sharp foreclaws on the tops of the wings 'wrist' to walk on though Phoenix Drakes are capable of walking upright on their hind legs alone

- Thin faces with angular snout; Razor sharp serated teeth, like an anacondas, to grab hold of prey

- Long tail feathers with two extra long white feathers that stretch several feet past the rest of the tail

- Run hotter than almost every species, but are vulnerable because they lack the thick scales of most species; Compensate by being reborn

-

Timothy Drake - Dragon | Goldenfang

- Beautiful golden scales with short wings and long frills along its spine with a long tail with thin delicate looking veils connected by thin spines on the tail; Darker golden-brown scales on the head like a fer-de-lances

- Jungle dwelling dragons best at gliding through trees and weaving around obstacles

- Sharp needle like claws for clinging to trees; Delicate fangs positioned at the front of the mouth filled with potent golden venom

- Sharp teeth and molars like a monkeys; Short muzzle than most dragons

- Flexible bodies with a specialized flexible spine

- Incredibly delicate as their scales aren't diamond hard of inpenetrable

Cassandra Cain - Drake | Scorpion Drake

- Thick, impenetrable scales that comes in pale shades od brown or shades of black or in between; Long tail that curves upwards slightly tipped with a sharp stinger and poison glands

- Specialized scales along the wrists and ankles that let them feel vibrations in the air; Naturally thinner scales, a weak spot

- Large paws with flat claws to balance on sand

- Able to go long periods without water; Can hold still for hours

- Extremely fast and agile for a drake who are normally bulky because of their thick, armor like scales

- Fast runners because of their longs legs

Rare - Common

Successful Hybrids (that survive) - Extremely Rare

Everburning Dragon - Rare

Phoenix Drake - Rare

Goldenfang - Rare

Asiatic Jade Dragon - Uncommon

Sand Drakes - Uncommon

Thermotect - Uncommon

Scorpion Drake - Uncommon

Black Nightwings - Uncommon

(Inspired by @salparadiselost Dragon Au; The Thermotect, Phoenix Drake, and Goldenfang all belong to her)

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Avatar Au? I’m not sure if you would have watched it, so it’s fine if that’s not the case :))

If so, how about just a classic Alien Au? Ooo… or a dragon one? :000 With dragon shifters!

Now I’m creating my own Au’s LMAO ❤️

(I have watched Avatar, I just have no desire to create an AU based on it and I just did an Alien AU!)

Dabi is a dragon shifter, but the rest of the world can't know that. He is a dragon who is damaged by his own fire and if people find out about that, then they'll likely kill him to poach his corpse. So he hides it and pretends he was attacked by a dragon, resulting in his burns. He makes a name for himself as someone who can 'get rid' of dragons who are encroaching on mortal settlements. What he's mostly doing is just walking up and figuring out what their grievance is and then negotiating until they move on their way.

This is a really, really good racket until he ends up getting hired by a village that also has hired a white-haired poacher to deal with a wyvern encampment, just in case Dabi can't get the job done by himself.

Cue him being on this mission with a guy who makes a living killing his kind and he is literally the easiest target on the fucking planet and Dabi is stressed out of his mind and Shigaraki thinks this guy is just a neurotic mess.

They go to the hive and Dabi goes in first to get the dragon to start to leave with her wyverns, but he has a very hard time hiding her reaction to him, and by the time she is gone, Shigaraki's got a knife to his throat he wants to know what Dabi is getting out of pretending to be a human, as usually only dragons looking to cause civil unrest bother to masquerade as mortals.

To save his life he explains what his deal is and after a little while Shigaraki lets him go, but on the condition that Dabi becomes his apprentice. There are dragons who can't be reasoned with, one is the Wrathful Flame to the east-- Dabi's father. If he wants to live and if he wants to prove that his father should have never thrown out one of his clutch, then he is going to teach Shigaraki every way to get into his kingdom to kill him (and if Dabi does well enough, then Shigaraki will bring him in as well and let him deal the final blow). They start a tentative allyship and of course fall in lust love along the way.

[dala-siaka]

My reinterpretation of Najarala-the twisting snake wyvern

-Is now the apex monster of the primal forest

-Roar animation is similar to that of Dalamadur albeit closer to the ground

Design changes

-More snake like head

-Red, unblinking eyes(when slain or knocked over its eyes go white like Dalamadur)

-Hooded neck

-Sonic scales more like keeled scales, closer to the body to make burrowing easier

-Retractable fangs like a viper, bluish mouth interior

-Hindlimbs turned into stubby spurs

-Tail has a vaguely macuahuitl like shape

Fight changes

-More focused on its scale production and paralysis(burrows to move to faraway areas akin to tetsucabra)

-Keeps itself closer to the ground normally, assuming the coiled position for particular attacks

-It’s chest is breakable

-It can shake its tail rattle to make its sonic scales explode

-If the tail is cut off it will have to resort to a roar

-Forelimb swipe attack

-Has an attack where it slams its jaw into the ground(it can inflict paralysis)

-Slither attack has a telegraph of it coiling up

-Sweeping tail drag where it slams its tail into the ground

Miscellaneous

-It’s lair is a ground sloth esque burrow(the entrance corkscrews) that has sound echo, thus making the range of its sonic scale bursts larger

-Environmental traces include footprints and pieces of shed skin(finding these will give you a chance of collecting a najarala scale)

-Idle animation/when it’s trying to find the hunter has it flick it’s forked tongue

-When low on stamina it will paralyze and kill Slagtoth before swallowing them whole like a snake

[pangtasias-atelier]

Hello!

If you’re still open, how about a weight gain starting Seteth? Maybe him slowly starting to stress eat but tries to ignore the signs he’s getting fat (buttons or his belt popping off, clothes tearing, belly rumbling loudly from hunger constantly) until he finally admits it when he gets stuck or he breaks his chair or something? Thanks!

I see Seteth I bark and go crazy. Cause like I know I say I kinda struggle/dislike weight gain ignorance at larger sizes but I went a little crazy with this ajsbsnjsbnsj.

Not used to this but I hope you like it cause gave me many thoughts!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Garreg Mach Monastery is always a bustling area in Fodlan. With so many moving parts needed to keep such a place continuously running without much issue, Seteth is one of the most important people taking care of all the logistics and other minute details. Even more is required of him with Fodlan finally reaching a peace that is hopefully kept for quite some time. From so much required of him, the archbishop’s advisor has recently turned to a mixture of poor eating habits so as to sufficiently complete all the work he imposes on himself, Seteth skipping meals only to binge on even more than were he to eat properly along with stress eating for even the most minor of things now.

Seteth’s quill immediately stops its motion as he hears the sudden, small clack of something hitting his desk while he diligently works in his office. “How odd,” His brows are furrowed. His eyes glance down at himself. Despite the small beginner belly that he sees, Seteth pays it zero attention. His little belly that has now passed being just a small insignificant amount of flab stretches his outfit since he has gained around 30 pounds from so much snacking and eating. All of Seteth has filled out slightly from the extra weight that he now carries on his once fit frame. He still holds all of the musculature he’s gained from countless years of fighting and training; his broad pecs have the slightest bit of curve to them from the bit of flab they now have, his chest meatier and even a bit larger now. His biceps have most of their definition hidden by his loose sleeves, the bit of adipose on his arms unable to completely hide all his muscles. And Seteth’s wide, powerful thighs that come from being so adept at wyvern riding have some extra width to them as well. Though like his arms, the limbs are covered up by Seteth’s clothing, his overly long coat hiding the two thick thighs and his shapely bubble butt that also has a bit more bounce and heft to it now. But Seteth’s top is far from as loose as the rest of his attire. And where the line of buttons should be, one of the pristine white buttons is completely missing. Right where his stomach bulges out the very most. 

“Perhaps I should update my wardrobe,” Seteth remarks to no one but himself. The ever diligent worker sees no fault of his own, so preoccupied in getting things accomplished that the small inkling of an issue regarding his weight immediately becomes buried under a mountain of work. Though Seteth’s brain does a good job on shifting blame onto other things, furrowed brows still glaring at his minor wardrobe malfunction. “Honestly, I should have expected this to happen. I’ve had these for years. I suppose I’ll submit an order to the tailor,”

His clothes are indeed more than half a decade old at this point; Seteth mollifies himself by thinking of his wardrobe malfunction as nothing more than too worn out clothes and not his belly straining his tight clothes. Seteth thinks no more about the issue. Even as he reaches into his snack drawer—a new habit of his he also thinks nothing about—and takes a bite into the now unwrapped sugary chocolate chip cookies despite having just finished his prior meal, the two plates stacked to the side, as he continues to whittle away at all the work that awaits him. 

Seteth learns nothing of his minor accident. Mind too focused on work, the hard-working individual thinks of only accomplishing the too high bars he sets on himself. And if that includes less time leaving his office, Seteth doesn’t mind or think too much of his increased sedentary lifestyle. He sits for most of the day. His only exercise includes stretching—albeit a rather rigorous 15 minute session—after waking up and before going to sleep. But the minor, far from challenging stretches do nothing to help combat his rising weight from how much he eats. And Seteth gladly eats his fill. Food meant to serve as energy to fuel one’s body, he pays zero attention to the increasing amount of plates that he allows himself to indulge on, or the way he always has more and more piles of plates in his office as the weeks go by, or the way his clothes begin to struggle more often as his weight simmply begins to creep higher and higher. 

“Blast this forsaken belt,” Seteth’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth as he mutters to himself. Near ready to tear the accessory himself, he manages to keep himself somewhat calm. 

And he does so by still refusing to admit to himself about his current weight. A weight that is just shy of four hundred pounds now. Not that Seteth knows, the man never using a scale for so long. Especially when he could never possibly need it, not when he’s too busy with other tasks and when he thinks of himself being just as spry and thin before his weight gain. But all his denying can’t change the amount of weight that hugs his figure. Especially not his stomach. The large ball of fat that makes up Seteth’s gut—his abdomen far too flabby to be considered just a stomach now—sags down. Even as he stands up, Seteth’s gut comes close to reaching his crotch. The lowest bits of belly fat reach far enough to just barely begin and sag at the very top of his new fat pad. Seteth’s fat pad also has to worry about his round thighs, the two meaty legs much more filled out now with the heaping addition of more fat from all his eating. And his thighs fill out his pants incredibly well, the once again newly made clothing already beginning to grow taut once more. They manage to stay hidden by his coat still, only the fattest parts of his thighs ever so slightly pressing up against the fabric to show off the large goods Seteth has hidden. His large posterior is shown off more; the two flabby buttocks are outlined by his coat, the fabric draping over his shapely rear. Seteth’s arms also struggle against sleeves that are nowhere near as loose or poofy as before with new outfits needed to withstand his growing girth. His biceps are covered up by a generous layer of layer now, the sagging rivulets of flab that make up his arm pressed tightly against the fabric of his clothes. And Seteth’s face is rounded out as well to top off his current weight. His portly face has a double chin now. His cheeks are also puffed out from his weight, that and the deep breaths he takes the few moments he does anything past moderately strenuous. But the largest aspect of Seteth remains his doughy gut and bountiful chest. His large upper half is constrained by the usually tight clothing that is meant to show off his musculature. Unfortunately, it only accentuates the largeness of his breasts, the two meaty moobs sitting comfortably atop his large gut as they strain his clothes. And the buttons. The buttons hold on for dear life even with the use of extra stretchy fabric for his outfit. The white fabric of his undershirt is exposed and visible with how much the rich, navy  blue of his top is pulled to accommodate its wearer’s size. Seteth’s gut does much worse. His clothes are already tight as they are but his belt does nothing but exacerbate the issue. The flabby mass of fat is tightly squished by the straining belt. His gut begins to lurch over the strip of fabric by how tight it is, the accessory already ill suited for Seteth quite some time ago—not that he can realize that with the obese man still willfully ignoring his size.

Seteth fights with his belt. Flabby hands reach for it and try their best to tug at it. “I knew I should have discarded this when I accidentally washed it,” Complaining to himself, Seteth fidgets with the clasp. But try as he might, he lacks the dexterity to reach the creaking piece of metal from the way his bulging stomach gets in the way. Seteth’s words do ring true, having completely forgotten to remove his belt before washing his clothes, but the accident has nothing to do with his issue. 

And after some more fidgeting, Seteth gives up. Fanning himself with his flabby arms that wobble as he does so, and only leaves him feeling a bit more winded, he goes to take a seat on his chair. 

The buckle on his belt comes completely undone. The clasp chipping and releasing from his gut pooling as he sits. Seteth stares at the sight with puffed out cheeks, his face tinged with red from exhaustion and irritation. “Hmmph, I should have known the metal was of subpar quality,” With nothing more than a dismissive comment to his resolved situation, Seteth continues with his small break, the free time accompanied by more snacks before diving right back into his sedentary work at his desk. 

Even with an entire belt destroyed by his enormity, Seteth thinks nothing of the event. Or the increasing amount of hushed conversations and whispers whenever he’s around—the few times he leaves his office or his room. The only takeaway he gets from the experience is to stop wearing a belt, recently dug up mineraly apparently too cheap nowadays after his second experience of breaking one. And for all his complaints about his clothes, the increasingly large Seteth can’t forego those so he makes do by changing his attire as the days pass. Coincidentally, his clothes get changed as his weight continues to climb higher and higher. The few trips Seteth makes to the mess hall grow more infrequent. He doesn’t need to make the short little walk—now a trek to him—when he has all his meals delivered now. But no one complains to him with Garreg Mach continuing to run even more smoothly than before despite the extra amount of work around. Or bring up his weight directly to his face, everyone fearful of a dedicated, stern lecture from the morbidly obese advisor. 

Like always, Seteth is in his office. Despite the clutter, the busy, occupied room is in a completely mess free state with everything organized. His stacks of papers are separated into neat tall piles regarding what needs to be done to them, some finished and ready to be approved by others, some just having arrived to him,some needing his approval and so on. And Seteth’s second desk has all his plates stacked neatly to be taken care of later—the extra furniture a recent addition to make it easier for him to eat. 

Seteth is currently taking a break however. 

Instead of sitting at his desk, the now five hundred pound man is currently standing. He does his usually stretching routine, Seteth adding a third one after feeling like he needed it from being so tired throughout the day, from working too much obviously and not from the extra weight and cushioning he has on his rotund, fat body. Deciding to make things much easier on himself—and because the tailors were struggling to supply enough material for his growing body, not that they gave such a reason to Seteth’s face—he now only wears a simple white pair of pants and a plain navy blue shirt. The large set of clothes are strained against his prodigious girth. 

Seteth's shirt is tucked in, the habit hard to get rid of even when he weighs more than an entire quarter ton now. His sagging stomach is given support by his shirt, the large, jutting gut sagging only halfway down to his crotch instead of past it like usual. The round, sagging stomach jiggles with every sort of stretch Seteth does, the meaty belly slapping against the upper portions of his thighs. His gut curves at the very bottom from his shirt, the soft meaty roll of belly fat caressed by his shirt. Seteth's chest is as large as his head now. The two flabby breasts are stacked with fat now from all his indulgent eating habits. They splay down his gut now from their own girth. His widened areolas press against his shirt, his breasts outlined against the fabric from how much they jut, the soft curve of flab underneath his breasts also apparent with more flab piled onto the outer sides of his breasts. Seteth's tits get in the way of his stretching. Breast fat squishes against his arm flab and all other parts of his body as he maneuvers his body around. Seteth's arms lack a large chunk of mobility that they once had; the two bulky arms wobble and tremble with each pose and stretch he holds for a portion of a minute. His arms also often squish against his face, the onset of a third chin giving Seteth a much, much rounder appearance. His neatly trimmed beard makes his already fat face look even wider. Seteth's pants fare worse than his shirt. The waistband of his pants dig into all of Seteth's flab. His jutting hips struggle to stay contained within the tight pants; getting a sausage for a finger into his waistbands is a difficult task for him with how tight they are. Seteth's ass just barely manages to stay contained inside the clothes, the rounded rear that is fat and round enough to make a nice seat for someone else just barely escapes past his pants, a large grabbable sliver of lard visible as it oozes past the waistband. The rest of his pants, while not quite as taut against his thighs as they are against his huge rear, also struggle from his weight. The two portly thighs are outlined by his pants, the jutting upper rivulets of flab on his thighs pressing against the fabric. The material is also faded, so much rubbing and friction from his inner thighs chafing against each other whenever he takes the minimal exercise that is walking around throughout the day. Seteth's knees and calves lack the mobility that they once held, the joints saddled with a cylindrical layer of flab that oozes down from his flabby legs. 

But despite his quarter ton weight—Seteth still mentally refusing to think anything regarding his size—he works harder than ever to keep up with his stretching regimen. And with so much effort and energy needed to sustain himself, and so little time in his busy schedule, he takes the opportunity to stuff himself in between stretches. 

He chews on the last bits of his sandwich as he stretches his arms above his head. The small bit of burn he feels is assuaged by the delicious meat cuts and the fresh, cold vegetables as he devours the last half. Seteth soon reaches for another treat after he finishes his stretch. He grabs a bit of chocolate, the deliciously wrapped truffle his break dessert as he unwinds down from his stretching.

Unfortunately, he drops the spherical piece of chocolate, the wrapper crunching as it rolls along the floor. "Of all the…" Seteth grumbles to himself but nonetheless, he waddles on over to pick it up. Ass sloshing behind him as his thighs chafe against one another and slap against his meaty gut, Seteth only smiles as he reaches the chocolate, ignoring the way he feels winded despite only just stretching. But, with his mind—and his massive gut—set on satisfying his craving for chocolate, the obese advisor bends down to reach it.

His pants immediately tear right down the center. Seteth's tongue sticking out in concentration, he turns a furious shade of red. He shoots right back up, as fast as he can and with chocolate in hand, and glares the best that he can as he tries his best to look down and back at his torn pants. But even with his largest effort, he mostly gets an eyeful of his own lard.

"I swear, those tailors need a stern talking to," With a small huff, Seteth waddles back to his desk. He gives his work area much more birth this time, bumping into the wood by accident with his still adamant refusal about his weight. Seteth sits down and practically crams the chocolate in his mouth, flabby palm pressed against his maw as he chews and savors it. "I suppose I must submit another order at this rate," Seteth takes a few moments out of his already crammed schedule to request another exact same pair of clothes. He also continues to tear through his large bowl of truffles as he does that before continuing on with his work and snacking.

As the seasons change, so too does the fortune of Garreg Mach Monastery. The bustling place soon begins to die down and return to its normal, albeit still hectic, activity. And along with less liveliness comes less work. Especially from Seteth's diligence, not a single project or plan possibly going late with him overseeing and overworking himself—and overworking his always churning gut. Seteth still remains his hardworking self even with the extra amount of free time. He uses his free time to relax now, food often by his side regardless of whether he's working or not. Seteth does finally begin to leave his office more often now though. He doesn't take much advantage of it however, long walks tiring for his now even larger body. He continues to spend a large majority of his time in his office for the most part, spending his extra time reading and writing alongside generously sized dishes. 

Seteth sits at his desk. The upsize furniture and even widened doorway are all things that Seteth pays absolutely no attention to, all of it quickly replaced as Garreg Mach underwent rapid renovations the past couple months and by the decisions of everyone but Seteth who remains oblivious to the changes. His larger, far more sturdy chair that's akin to a personal bench manages to withstand all of his six hundred pound enormity. All of Seteth's girth spreads out around him, his shape resembling more a rotund sphere than anything else. Though Seteth's even larger size is far from surprising to anyone else, an extra hundred pounds a lot to take in regardless, but with Seteth already weighing so much, the large chunk of weight feels far less on his already obese body. The extra heft he carries is less important to all of Garreg Mach's staff compared to the loud mess of noise that is his gut. With so much gorging, Seteth's belly either grumbles from hunger or churns from being stuffed, the pile of lard often doing both simultaneously.

His brand new clothes fit him snug but comfortably. Currently not working, he allows himself to be a bit more comfortable with his shirt being untucked. His large gut oozes out in front of him. The small table for a belly spreads out in front of him, bits of his flab even encroaching and spreading onto his desk. His thighs spread out against the bench, and his ass comes close to sagging off the backside of his chair. But despite weighing more than thrice another man's weight, Seteth simply enjoys his reading.

Well, he tries his best to. His book resting on his large breasts that fully surpass his head in terms of size, and his arms holding said book by resting it on top of his enormous gut and gis love handles, the movement in his grip from how much his enormous gut grumbles does nothing to bother him. No, instead  Seteth's eyes continue to drift to the unsigned, ridiculously unnecessary paperwork on his desk. Seteth reads on, eyes darting from edge to edge as he reads quickly. The text escapes him. The meaning is secondary. He shuts the book closed the instant he reaches the end of his current chapter.

"What nonsense. Who could believe such ghost stories?" He slams his book down. Be Seteth grabs the piece of parchment and brings it to his face, his stomach still churning as it digests his miniature feast for one. "I mean, really?" Seteth scoffs. He reads the paper for the fourth time and is met once again with the article's absurd claims about a cacophony of noise coming from Seteth's room all day, the audible grumbling from his gut able to be heard in the hallway even with Seteth's door closed. The sounds are nothing more than whitenoise to Seteth, even the long gurgles and bubbling rumbles from his stomach are insignificant to Seteth's still ignorant self.

"Absurd," Seteth tosses the paper into the trash. Absolved from dealing with the work, he instead deals with his post lunch, lunch. His stomachs rumbling dies down as he tears into his feast with no thought or consideration to his size.

Seteth chooses to be painfully oblivious to his weight. Any signs that he might get an inkling of an idea about his weight are quickly squashed by the absurdity of letting his well cared for body go. He squashes the same ideas perpetuated by faculty's questions or concerns from hushed remarks about his weight, Seteth simply believing them to be jealous. All of Garreg Mach Monastery is as tranquil as it has been long ago. Seteth spends the vast majority of his large quantities of free time eating.

Seteth does exactly that. On his break—the morbidly obese man needing breaks often to keep himself satisfied—he ignores the loud, ominous creaking that harshly sounds out from his personal bench. His ridiculously oversized figure fills out the entirety of his chair. His flab encompasses and spills off of it. The more than eight hundred pounds dragon weighs even more than anyone in Garreg Mach could ever expect. Seteth's clothes are a complete mockery of his former attire, the tailors refusing to take anymore orders from the excessive amount of fabric needed and Seteth’s still insistent and persistent refusal of any of it being his fault. Though the far past morbidly obese advisor has slightly begun to suspect something. The pair of shorts that were already too small more than half a hundred pounds ago offer the bare minimum of coverage. Most of Seteth's fat ass spills out the thinned out, taut strip of fabric that digs into Seteth's rear. His ponderously sized ass that is large enough to require even a third normally sized seat to withstand all his girth is pinched by the blanket of fabric that are his shorts. His rear spills off the back of his now bent bench. It also touches both sides of the seating as well. Seteth’s door crushing hips spill off the sides of the bench. The bit of fabric that manages to cover up his legs are practically hidden by all his enormity, the parts of fabric that cover his inner thighs completely smothered by the two thighs that resemble a bulging barrel more than a proper thigh at his weight. Seteth’s thighs are an amalgamation of rolls of lard, each piece of his flabby, swollen leg sagging down onto the lower portions of itself. Even Seteth’s feet are partially swallowed from his wanton gluttony, draconic strength from a Nabatean only able to go so far with the physical limitation of being almost too fat to properly move. Seteth’s arms paint the exact same picture. His once svelte yet built limbs are swaddled in lard, the hedonistic glutton allowing himself to gain so much weight to where his arms are nothing more than a sluggish stack of thick pancakes. Moving his arms is as much of a chore as the rest of his corpulence. Seteth’s forearms are partially sunken from his immense bicep fat that comes ever so close to rivaling an entire person’s waistline and even surpassing a large majority of them. His insignificant navy shirt clings to every fold and crevice on his big body. The thin material of the sleeves are torn, tears running halfway up the massive opening needed to allow room for his flabby shoulders and massive arms. Seteth’s shirt doesn’t even make it past his plush pillow sized breasts. His large chest sags and splays down the tremendous size that is his gut, each over swollen tit large enough to rest on his abundantly sized love handles. Seteth’s stomach resembles a mattress at his more than a third of a ton weight. Seteth’s vast gut, the elephantine sized gut that it now is, rests on the floor. The mound of lard completely blankets the front of his bench, the furniture impossible to make out from the front with how fat Seteth is. The pile of blubber that is his gut is comprised of an absurd amount of rolls, the blanketing mass of flab slightly broken up by his cavernous navel and the dusting of body hair that makes up his happy trail. Seteth’s blubbery face compliments the rest of his ponderous enormity; the sagging porcine jowls that are his cheeks bulge outward from his plump size. Seteth’s usually pristine face is marred by the streaks of food that rest on his lips as he eats.

Seteth reaches towards the very last plate of food. He has to lean forward to reach it, his gut crammed against his desk creating a tiny river of fat that blocks him. The bench groans underneath him, bits of wood slowly but surely beginning to splinter from even the slightest movement Seteth makes. And the last bite of food seems to be the very last straw for the bench, Seteth finding his fat ass right on the floor as he shoves the entire last half of the buttery baked potato straight into his hungry mouth.

“Whaaa?” Still chewing, Seteth glances at his surroundings with half glazed eyes. His dinner sitting nicely in his churning gut, the comfortable, full sensation takes up most of his energy; the other portion of his brain slowly trickles in the thought of perhaps having gotten too fat. And to his benefit, Seteth does gaze down upon himself, his vision immediately stopped by the tire of fat from his chins and neck smushing against each other. Getting up also proves to be a daunting task. Seteth has to build momentum just to stand up. Lard sloshes and slaps against itself, his massive sagging arm fat squishing against his breasts as those wobble and slosh against his stomach in turn. Seteth uses his desk, the invaluable furniture used as an anchor to help lift up his anchor sized girth. A complete mess of wheezes, Seteth rests as much as he can on his desk to catch his breath.

“Perhaps,” Seteth grumbles to himself. Like a switch, the nearly immobile man seems to come to terms with his gluttony. But only a bit. “Perhaps I ought to work off this bit of pudge starting tomorrow,” His face is still beat red from standing up alone. But seteth wastes no time into reaching into his second desk, all the drawers reserved for snacks now, and begins tearing into the delectable treats available to him after working up an appetite. The obese advisor is nothing more than a mess of moans as he wantonly gluts out, continuing his hedonistic gluttony like every other day. 

[wastedpotentialsblog]

Destiny enemies and enemy models that I really really liked and could've been used more:

Marauder Ultras:

They're fun to fight! They're fast, can use stealth, can use shock blades, and don't have to Boss StompTM. I would've loved to see these guys decked in white, cream, blue, and black if they were on Europa. You don't have to give em Stasis but a different boss than just Large and slow Captain is a nice change of pace.

House Salvation elites (Enforcers, Disciples, and Assisstants)

>Makes 3 custom enemy types that use Darkness powers for the first time, all with unique models and animations

>barely uses them

>they disappear for 2 years

They didn't come back til Seraph! SERAPH. Come on man. These fuckers should've been everywhere throughout BL. I also think their lack of appearance also contributed to the lack of urgency of the "our enemies have darkness now" threat. I mean, we fought like 8 or 9 named "Salvation Elites" but most were just standard Ultra Captains. If they were Elites, they could've just been these guys.

Side note: Out of the new factions of Lucent Hive, Shadow Legion, and House Salvation. Salvation didn't get an "invasion" season to go with their expansion. Robbed. Truly. They made a Military-Industrial Complex and barely set foot anywhere else besides Europa. I also think this was a factor that didnt create any kind of urgency during BL.

Berserkers

Need I say more? Look at this swagged out motherfucker. If House Salvation really subsumed multiple houses under its banner, Kells Scourge included, should've thrown a couple of these bozos out there. Alter the shield mechanic to be more easily disabled by a solo player. Could even make their armor jet black. Given they have stealth itd be a nice visual contrast when they reveal themselves. I didn't play Scourge of the Past too much, but I did enjoy these guys when I did.

(Can you tell I'm biased at this point?)

Psion Flayers

Easy miniboss material. They dont have to be Ultra sized, maybe just slightly bigger than standard Psions. Could even give them a supporting role on the battlefield. Empowering Cabal around them with their enhanced telekinetics, those enhancements varying by elemental type and tying back to our Light 3.0 abilities. (Sun Flayer/Solar=heal, Abyss Flayer/Void=overshields, Storm Flayer/Arc=movement speed). Of course, their armor would have to have more visual differences and distinct silouhettes as I imagine trying to pick out which one is which based on color alone could be difficult for some. Hell, truthfully, I'd be fine if they were just the fucking Psion Sisters from Season of Dawn copy and pasted everywhere. But a supportive role would add more variety to a fight.

Rocket Centurions

Bet you forgot about these dudes, huh? They pop up in the EAZ but, you know, we've been fighting the Cabal for this long, you think more would've strapped rockets to their backs by now. While their missiles are just Colossus slow missiles (iirc), they could just be normal missiles that explode and don't slow just to keep them different. While these could be neat minibosses, if you want an Ultra one at the end of a story mission or something, they could take the Elykris (The Machinist) route of firing missiles where they go straight up in the air and red dots target the ground around you and you have to keep moving. They could've popped back in with the Shadow Legion. I think they could rock black, gold, and purple

Anyway this is mostly about House Salvation and Psion Flayers and I remembered Rocket Centurions in the middle of making this post. If I remember anything, I'll reblog it. I was gonna say something about the other races but Hive don't have a lot of variants that can be turned into minibosses and the Vex got Wyverns (seriosuly. No notes. A perfect enemy type). Obviously it's like way too late to add these to previous story missions, but if we are gonna reuse enemy types, can we reuse some of the cooler ones? Please?