#go mayhem ! go spark ! go dragons !!!!

[lysistratawrites]

the woman in winter (se ābra isse sōnar) - chapter 3

the unspoken rule says that no man should interfere in what the gods have set.

Pairing: Original Female! Targaryen x Cregan Stark

A/n: finally! This feels like a fill-up chapter but idc! 🤪

Warnings: bit of fluff? not much, tbh, maybe jace being kinda jealous and cregan not letting elia alone much time 🤔

Rating: Teen (+13)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen

The farewell had been bittersweet, filled with promises and good words, with tight hugs and little gifts, but also with the unspoken understanding that things would never be quite the same.

A soft rumble takes her out of her thoughts as her eyes go to the sky and the looming shadow of Mayhem flies over them, like wanting to shield them from any possible danger that could approach the galley. Next to him go Vermax and Arrax, the latter somewhat smaller than the others, marking his youth and eagerness. The sight of the three dragons, with their broad wings casting large, fleeting shadows on the ground below, brings a sense of awe and a reminder of the power of house Targaryen.

“But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,

and its kiss was a terrible thing.”

Elia smiles at Davos Blackwood, who apparently without any malice has just started to sing. He has always had a good voice, and his spark has helped him to make friends in even the most unlikely places. The song, ‘The Dornishman’s wife’, has been chosen personally for the only element of the kingsguard to be sent to the North with them, and she finds it hard to not join him in an attempt of easying the latent sorrow.

Her gaze roams far from the ship, free, wondering, matched with a small smile curving her lips. Before her the land is changing, the rocky cliffs from the Vale’s coast letting way to the vast, rolling expanses of the North, the biting cold crawling up and wrapping around her like a familiar cloak. The shift from the relatively milder climate of the Vale to the harsh, unforgiving cold of the North marks a transition not just in scenery, but in the very essence of the journey. It is as if each gust of the chilling wind carries whispers of ancient tales of heroes and giants, of enormous beasts and trees old as time itself carved with faces of people long forgotten.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see ser Criston trying to shut Davos up?”

Her eyes go to her right and meet with the gaze of her former betrothed, the future king of the Seven Kingdoms and probably her best friend. A sort of warm feeling clings to her chest, her little treasure for what the future may bring, when she realizes how funny he finds the teasing to the Kingsguard.

“No, I think I will pass on that,” she says with a light chuckle, the warm feeling in her chest blossoming into a soft smile.

Jacaerys’s eyes roam over the changing landscape and hers follow as well, not before noticing the spark upon his face, the way the halfclouded sunbeams sculpt his profile against the vast canvas of the sky.

“I must say I am not completely pleased with the idea, but I like to think how the whole North will bend the knee to you” he mutters, biting his lower lip as if the thought brings a mix of worry and pride. “You, with the North at your back, would be an unparalleled force, feared and respected across the whole Westeros.”

“You make it look bigger than it is…” She replies, her voice trailing off as she gazes into the distance, contemplating the weight of his words. The very idea of such power is both intoxicating and daunting.

“You heard Viserys. If time comes, I will need you by my side, El, and with Cregan Stark come the fiercest warriors of the whole realm.”

Religion. Politics. Prophecies. Around her everybody seems to see a different side of her oncoming marriage she just cannot make sense of.

“What if nothing happens?” he tilts his head to look at her, his purple irises full of questions. “What if you get to sit on the throne and need nothing from the North?”

Silence lingers between them, and she sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes, mirroring her own uncertainties. She inhales deeply, aware of the heavy burden her words might carry, deciding to tread carefully yet honestly.

Before them the coastline of the biggest port of the North stretches out, almost waiting for them, the white buildings of the city gleaming like pearls against the backdrop of the dark sea. The sight is both intimidating and awe-inspiring, a constant reminder of the power and responsibility that rests upon her shoulders.

Before Jacaerys has any chance to answer, the sailors that have guided them to their destination start to prepare them all for their landing at the door of winter itself.

…

He has had his time to assume the future during their travel, but he cannot help but feel a tight knot at the mouth of his stomach the very moment his horse sets foot on Manderly territory. Despite knowing that he has to wed again in order to keep the name of his house and his lineage alive, Cregan is fully aware that another death like Arra’s would be too much to handle.

The moment he meets with Desmond Manderly, Cregan can sense the weight of expectation resting upon his shoulders. Desmond, with a keen eye and a firmer voice than Cregan remembers from their youth, speaks of alliances and the future. The Manderlys have always been a strong ally to his house since they were let to live in the North and use the Wolf’s Den a thousand years before the arrival of Aegon the Conqueror to the frozen lands of their forbears, and the relationship between both houses had always been firm, built on mutual respect and shared interests.

“If only I would have had a daughter…”

Cregan throws a sideways glance at the big-bellied lord of White Harbor as they lead the party to welcome the princess and her retinue, arriving there before the ship can even be seen, the guards alerted by the presence of three dragons upon the sky, their roars freezing the blood of the Northmen, definitely not used to hear such sound echoing through their lands. The lords of the North, in their thick furs and heavy cloaks, stand stiffly, partly in awe, partly in fear, and Cregan’s grey eyes land upon the biggest beast, dark as the night sky, its scales glimmering with a hint of silver under the weak northern sun; it is a sight so foreign, yet so majestic, that even the most seasoned warriors among them cannot help but marvel at it. The beast circles above, its massive wings casting shadows over the city, as its companions follow in its wake, their colours brighter, shades

of green and gold shimmering in the sunlight.

Three dragons changed the history of the North generations ago, and three dragons will change it again.

He can hear the steel of the men’s arms jangling with a mix of anticipation and fear, as they prepare for what is to come, and Cregan just needs a raising hand for his men to abandon the idea roaming their minds.

“If anybody dares to raise a blade to their future lady, I will be cutting heads before sun sets.”

His voice, laced with a stern warning, cuts through the tense air like a blade through silk. The men, seasoned warriors of the North, exchange glances in silence, understanding the gravity of their lord's words. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of loyalty and the unspoken promise of protection.

They respect him, and they should do the same with their lady.

…

Her eagerness betrays her when her eyes scan the people gathered by the wharf, maybe hoping to see a big retinue with direwolves emblazoned on their clothes, or banners with the sigil of her future house.

“D’ya think they have spare furs?” Aeron’s voice next to hers pushes her to hold his hand with too much strength, her nervousness palpable. “It’s colder here than I thought.”

She smiles weakly, trying to focus on his words and not on the fluttering in her stomach or the way her heart seems to beat louder with each passing moment. “Sure they do,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper, striving to inject a confidence she doesn’t feel into her words.

They get closer, and her gaze meets the one of the man with the longsword at his back. Elia needs nobody to tell her who he is.

When the gangway is set for them to leave the galley, she takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that dance under her skin like fireflies in the dark. All eyes upon her as, step by step, she descends, her posture straight, projecting an air of assurance that belies the turmoil within. She can feel the weight of the man’s gaze, intense and unfaltering, as if trying to decipher an ancient script written upon her face. Elia can sense the whispers that begin to swirl around them, carried by the salty breeze, a mixture of curiosity and speculation. When the man with the longsword at his back approaches her, she hesitates for a moment, not ready for a moment like that one.

“Your Highness” he takes her hand, bowing slightly, a gesture of respect that feels oddly comforting in the midst of her inner chaos. His voice is a soft baritone, carrying a warmth that belies the coolness of the sea air. “Welcome to the North. Hope you had a safe travel.”

Nothing exists around them, not really. She allows herself a moment to get lost in those grey eyes of his, deep and captivating, and the warmth of his touch despite the layers of cloth between them is undeniably comfortable. It sparks something within her, a flicker of something like hope, or maybe the beginning of trust in this new, mysterious place.

“I certainly did, lord Stark” she finds herself saying, her voice steadier than she feels. The corners of his lips tilt up ever so slightly in what might be the ghost of a smile, an expression so rare and fleeting that it imbues the moment with a sense of exclusivity, as though she’s been allowed a glimpse into a private world seldom shared with others. “You did not have to do any of this for me.”

“Anything for the future lady of Winterfell.”

His words hang between them, heavy with implications of duty and perhaps something more, a depth of feeling that neither of them is ready to acknowledge just yet. It feels like a promise, a vow unspoken yet as binding as any oath made under the watchful eyes of the old gods and the new. Her heart swells with a mix of emotions—gratitude, apprehension, and an emerging seed of affection that she dares not name. The weight of his gaze is both comforting and unsettling, stirring a myriad of thoughts within her.

The strangely comfortable silence between them both is interrupted by a man who introduces himself as Desmond Manderly, and Elia, only by the glance Cregan throws at him, already knows that despite being important allies to her future house, lord Desmond is not a man who leaves his own priorities aside when he has the chance to advance them. His introduction is smooth, his words carefully chosen, painting the picture of a man who is both a friend and a formidable player in the courtly games that seem to just not have let her be when she left King’s Landing.

“Feel free to rest under our roof as much time as needed, princess” for a moment he looks like a greedy uncle talking to his nephews rather to his liege and his future wife, and despite showing herself polite and easy-going, Elia is already building her own impression of the big-bellied man hiding behind a moustache almost as prominent as his ego. “Such a trip must be tiresome.”

“In fact,” Elia can feel Jace’s presence looming behind her, almost like wanting to protect her, “I am more than eager to see my new home, lord Manderly. I am thankful for your proposition, anyway.”

Both sides get introduced, and a sort of procession guides them from the harbour to the New Castle up the hill through the Castle Stair, rows merman statues cradling bowls of burning whale oil lining the path, casting eerie shadows that danced like wraiths in the night. The air is filled with the briny scent of the sea, mingling with the smoky aroma of the burning oil, creating an atmosphere that is both mystic and foreboding, as if the very essence of the ancient town of White Harbor was welcoming them with open arms and whispered secrets.

Elia Targaryen has the first chance to enjoy a moment of a sort of solitude once she reaches her chambers, when a tub of steaming hot water is brought in for her. The servants, silent as shadows, pour the water with practiced ease, adding scented oils that fill the room with a calming aroma, chasing away the chill of the northern air and the weariness from her bones. The scent of lavender and chamomile blends with the steam, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and tranquility, driving her far from the prying eyes of the head of house Manderly, the looming presence of ser Criston or even the silent clash between Cregan and Jace, like wanting to establish a pact between them both that none of them has the guts to accept first.

…

“Lord Stark.”

Cregan turns, and the face of the heir to the Iron Throne is right behind him, his dark eyes observing every move of him.

“My prince.” Cregan bows slightly, maintaining the respect due to royalty, yet his stance remains firm, a testament to the unwavering nature of the Northmen. Despite his loyalty to King’s Landing and the house of the dragons, he is fully aware of the history of house Targaryen and their forgotten promises related to the North. “What may I do for you?”

Cregan’s eyes cannot deny the evident. Jacaerys Velaryon and Elia Targaryen may not look like a typical Valyrian, but the atmosphere that surrounds them suggests an inherent nobility, an unspoken power that seems to flow through their veins as effortlessly as the blood of their ancestors.

“She seems to like you.”

She. Not ‘Elia’, nor ‘my cousin’, not even ‘the princess’.

“The feeling is mutual” he keeps to himself a soft smile when memories from the dinner come to his mind, Elia sat by his side, constantly asking questions about his homeland, his kin and their traditions. “My lady is a curious soul, the fire in her is undeniable ,” he reflects, the warmth of the memory painting a fond expression on his face.

The conversation around the dinner table had been electrifying, with Elia Targaryen, the promise of Aegon the Conqueror and Jaehaerys the Conciliator made flesh, shining by herself, no need of flourished garments nor her own retinue supporting her. The spark in her gaze captivated everyone, her eyes casting ancient hues when the lights of the torches and the candles reflected in them, speaking of a lineage steeped in dragonfire and destiny. Each word she spoke carried the weight of history, yet her laughter, light and unburdened by the burdens of her bloodline, filled the room with an infectious joy. It was as if the shadows of his own life had stepped aside to let her try to win her place within his soul.

The grim upon the prince’s face says a lot of things, but not the one he wants to express.

“She has a sweet tooth, her favourites are the lemon cakes. She is not fond of sewing, but her works are delicate and full of detail” as he speaks, Jacaerys’s eyes almost shine with a glow different than the one of the candles around them. “She adores flying, but sometimes she takes profit on her dragon’s independent tendencies and lets him fly on his own.”

He loves her. He still does.

…

A day. Enough for her to study more and more her future lands, and for her small retinue to pretend enjoying the strange city of White Harbor as much as they are supposed to.

A short promenade leads her to the sept, and there, amidst the quiet atmosphere and the soft flickering of candlelight, she finds a strange peace she will not certainly miss —or at least she thinks so. Sat by one of the benches, her indigo eyes observe the statues looming over her, the Manderlys showing themselves too much, even with the images of the Seven, huge looming statues of stone white as the purest snow, garnished with sea green details making them even more than what they really are.

The words sent a while ago to her grandsire still linger in her mind, a short message to reassure him of their arrival and the Northmen’s kindness towards them. She had already planned to send another raven to King’s Landing once she had settled in her new home in Winterfell, the heart of the North. The transition from the sun-kissed towers of King’s Landing to the grey stone and colder airs of the North is stark, but not unwelcome. The North holds a rugged beauty that she finds herself growing fond of, even if the chill seeps into her bones.

The stillness of the place helps unveiling the opening of the door, the creaking of wood and iron echoing against the stone walls. Despite not being precisely fond of the sudden end of her time for contemplation, she tries to guess who is coming before the person reveals themselves, only for the noise of the steps. The heavy footsteps grow closer, deliberate and unhurried, typical of the men of the North, who take pride in their steadfast demeanor. As the figure steps into the dim light, the shadows dance across his rugged features, a specific face among the many she has come to know in such a little time.

A soft smile tugs from the corners of her lips at the sight of the man.

“I can get you a sept built in Winterfell just for you, if that pleases you, my lady.”

Despite the sept being empty, she slightly moves to a side, like wanting to let him find an empty seat beside her.

“There will be no need. I am just bidding farewell.”

As her eyes return to the statues, Cregan Stark takes a sit next to her, his presence both comforting and imposing, and the feel of his gaze upon her awakes something deep within her soul, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of the North.

“I want the whole of it. If I am to be the lady of Winterfell, I will submit myself entirely to the North, including their gods” she mumbles, her voice barely a whisper, yet carrying a determined edge that slices through the chill air.

“The least I want is for you to not feel comfortable.”

“At least you think about what I want” she gets comfortable next to him, her hand laying with care upon his, getting used to the warmth and roughness of his touch, finding some pleasure in it. “I appreciate that. The Seven have been a part of my life since I remember, always pushed to the Great Sept to pray and remember those gone.”

By the corner of her eye she can see the Warden of the North tilting his head, his brow furrowed as he observes the statues looming over them, and she decides he is too young to handle the burden of his title alone, the responsibility weighing on his shoulders like the heavy cloaks they wear against the northern chill.

“How is it?”

“How is what?”

“To pray for them. It is something more private here in the North.”

“The godswoods?”

“Aye.”

She starts talking about the ceremonies, the septons and septas and the aim for luxury at any sept from south of the Neck, all of them trying to display lavish paraphernalia in an attempt to please the Seven, and as she speaks, the feeling of those grey eyes upon her stirs a strange feeling she finds it likable, to have a listener so intent, so fully absorbed in her words. It makes her feel appreciated.

“I see why you have decided to leave the Seven aside… Cannot imagine how it is, really. Such display for nothing.”

“Papa used to say that without clothing we are all the same.” she lowers her gaze, her lips drawing a sort of smile, like wanting to leave the matter aside, to finally say farewell to the Gods her ancestors had to start praying to in order to be accepted by the Westerosi kings of old. “Can’t wait to see Winterfell.”

She lifts her eyes then, bright with a mix of curiosity and determination, her hand approaching his almost by itself, seeking the reassurance found in the warmth of his touch.

“‘Tis not much compared to King’s Landing, but Winterfell has its own charm. If you get to find anything unpleasant once we have reached home, be sure it will be dealt with. The least I want is for you to not feel it as your home as well, my lady.”

“Please, do call me Elia.”

[oxalisvtesblog]

OK so, I unexpectedly have something for the Tullius/Elenwen shippers. Elenwen caught up with Tullius when we entered Falkreath hold while Rikke fell back, apparently deciding to escort Elisif instead. Things have been fine enough so far. Two dragons have been slain on the road and some bandits too. Nothing this team couldn't handle. They're quite overpowered since my player character is around lvl 30.

But when we approached the Falkreath Stormcloak camp I realized it was quite close to the road. Elenwen was scouting ahead by then and when she decided to go up and have a really close peek at it I got a bit nervous. They didn't react to her, however.

But when Tullius came... wow. Mayhem. He drew his bow and just went at it. And as soon as the fight was ON Elenwen joined in. Arrows and massive sparks flew through the air and the entire freaking camp was annihilated within seconds. Only the commander survived, left whimpering on the ground.

My character didn't join in at all, since I think it's sort of a REALLY BAD LOOK to attack the camp like this when you're on the way to negotiate a truce. Tullius apparently disagrees, but then he's mostly concerned about not looking weak. I think he accomplished that.

[eligobrrrrr]

Hi! I'm gonna return the favor because I wanna hear some fun facts for your OCs, too! I'll ask it here so you can mention any of the OCs you wanna talk about, not just BG3

Omg this took longer than I wanted SO! As a challenge to myself I tried to write a fun fact of most of my characters (both D&D and BG3), some are missing due to them being generally underdeveloped

(The * means I have already played this character in a campaign, oneshot, or in bg3)

Ace Goldstring*

My beloved lightfoot halfling, college of spirits bard, sorry about getting you involved with Xanathar and the Zhentarim. So he has teal eyes with the ghost inside as a side effect of him being a spirit medium, if he wasn't his eyes would be brown like the rest of his family.

Davhomin Siannodel Brightwood*

The first one to be made and my dearest boy whom I apparently just like to put in situations. He has a garden back in his house in Silverymoon that he loves very much and gets worried about when he has toi go far for an extended period of time, usually other members of the church of Ilmater take care of it or sometimes his dad does.

Enoch Hume

Half-elf (drow) wizard. Student of Strixhaven, Quandrix School, very very tired he needs some sleep so much, one of his counsellors is a shifter werecat(mechanically a weretiger but I just wanted to make it a calico cat) for the theory side of the school.

Heinrich von Wenninger*

Ah yes, my dhampir vampire hunter. He has a cane, it was from his old teacher whom tragically passed away, he still carries it around everywhere as a memento, the cane is also quite interesting, it's part of the gothic trinkets list from Curse of Strahd/Van Richten's Guide, so the tip can generate sparks, instead of it being magical I made it like it is a small mechanism that with enough force could generate a small fire (and that definitely didn't come back to bite me in his oneshot/j)

Icarus Nephus

My scourge aasimar, sunsoul monk whom is basically a greek demigod (child of Apollo). He knows how to play the flute quite well, he learned to do it back in his monastery in Elturel. I also change his name slightly depending if I'm talking in English or Spanish (Icarus/Ícaro)

Nolan

They're the amneciacTM character, meant to be given to the dm and see what chaos unfolds, the few things I have stablished is that he has stitches and an odd scar in their chest powering their wild magic and is mortally afraid of mirrors.

Professor Meadowheart

Teacher in Strixhaven, Quandrix School, he's known to give one of the easiest classes for the first year students and one of the hardest for the last year students. He's also Enoch's counsellor embodying the substance part of quandrix. He has a raven familiar and definitely isn't conflicted about that (Shadar Kai that basically escaped the Shadowfell).

Yín Lóng/Argentum*

My silver dragon whom was cursed to be in human form. Loves loves loves books, they canonically have a library in the abandoned temple that they live in, also the story hook for their adventure is that someone stole one of the books, a very dangerous one so they're going to retrieve it (+ being stuck in human form and trying to transform back).

Thurak*

Half-Orc Wild Magic Barbarian. I have made reference to this several times but I never get tired about talking about it, he has a broken lyre cus he tried to play music and failed. On a fun fact related to his backstory, he actually doesn't know how to speak orcish and is actually still learning common.

Mayhem*

My tiefling monk, child of a cambion and grandchild of an incubus (Inherited being able to switch between a male and female form). Used to stealing people when they were younger then became part of the same monastery of Icarus in Elturel, Mayhem arrived first then Icarus did, Mayhem was dragged into Avernus while Icarus was in Baldur's Gate. They're besties.

Sergil*

Seldarine Drow (Technically an Aevendrow) gloom stalker ranger. He a lil bitch, a lil shit/pos, he doesn't know who Drizzt Do'Urden is and at this point he's too afraid to ask.

[jenkinsthedragon220]

title: GhostPony Adventures Across Equestria 31

Chapter 1: The Storm Over Ponyville SFX: CRASH! BOOOOM! ⚡🌩️

The sky above Ponyville turned a deep violet as a magical storm brewed overhead.

GhostPony (lifting his head): “Every time I plan for a quiet day, something explodes in the sky…”

Princess Kincade (gently): “Maybe it’s not a normal storm. Look—there’s lightning forming words!”

High above, glowing letters crackled through the clouds: "THE HARMONIC CORE HAS BEEN DISTURBED."

JC (squinting): “Harmonic Core? Isn’t that some ancient magical relic?”

Jenkins the Dragon (hovering beside them): “Yup. Also known as the ‘Please Do Not Touch’ relic that no pony ever listens to.”

SFX: BOOM! ZZZZZAAAP!

Suddenly, a beam of blue magic zapped from the clouds and hit the Everfree Forest.

Mr. Black (firmly): “We need to investigate. Now.”

Chapter 2: Everfree Mayhem SFX: CRUNCH! TWIG SNAP! WHOOSH!

The group galloped into the forest. GhostPony led, his horn glowing.

Stephanie W Kincade (riding on her dad's back): “Dad, I see sparks in the trees!”

Jack Farmer (trotting beside): “Something’s moving in the mist…!”

Rogan (growling): “This feels wrong. Too quiet.”

SFX: ROAAAAR!

A magical tree beast burst from the shadows, roots thrashing.

Greenmane (shouting): “It’s corrupted by storm magic!”

Dani Farmer (hiding): “Do we run or blast it!?”

Lightning Zapp (horn glowing bright blue): “Let me try something—ZAPP ATTACK!”

SFX: ZAP-ZAP-ZZZAAAAP! 🌟

The spell sent rainbow sparks ricocheting across the clearing, stunning the tree beast.

Chapter 3: The Core Keeper The beast retreated, leaving behind a glowing shard.

Lacey Farmer (picking it up): “This looks like part of the Harmonic Core!”

Queen Artiste (elegantly): “Then something—or somepony—is pulling it apart. And if we don’t fix it…”

Flash Sentry (arriving with dust on his armor): “It gets worse. I just got word. The Canterlot archives have been… scrambled.”

GhostPony (serious): “Then it’s time to head to the Harmonic Temple. Everypony ready?”

SFX: FWOOSH! (Jenkins lands on GhostPony’s back)

Jenkins: “Locked, loaded, and carrying extra gumdrops.”

Chapter 4: Harmonic Temple Trouble SFX: SCREEEEEEEK… (massive doors creaking open)

The ancient temple pulsed with unstable magic.

Lightning Bass (scanning the walls): “Looks like a spell battle went down here… recently.”

Princess Kincade (hovering): “I sense something… beneath.”

SFX: BWWWWWMMMM! (floor opens!)

They dropped into a glowing chamber where shards of the Harmonic Core floated mid-air, pulsing wildly.

JC (shouting): “It’s unstable! Jenkins, toss me that stabilizer crystal!”

SFX: TINK! SHWOOOM!

The pieces pulled together… then exploded in a magical surge.

SFX: KRA-KOOOOOOM! 💥

Chapter 5: Into the Core The team awoke inside a surreal dimension of glowing music notes, shifting clouds, and harmonic fields.

Stephanie W Kincade: “Whoa… are we inside the Core?!”

GhostPony (awestruck): “This is… incredible.”

Dani Farmer: “Hey, the notes are reacting to our voices!”

Mr. Black (nodding): “Sing, chant, talk—any sound shapes this place.”

The group harmonized together—each voice, a thread of light weaving the core back together.

SFX: OOOOOOOHHMMM… 🎶

Suddenly, a shadowy pony figure formed.

Rogan: “That’s no guardian… that’s a thief!”

Lightning Zapp (lighting up): “I got this—ZAPP MELODY STRIKE!”

SFX: K-CHOWWWWWW!

The thief disintegrated in a burst of harmony. The Core glowed golden.

Chapter 6: Balance Restored SFX: FWWWWOOOOOOMMMM!

The team was transported back to Ponyville, where skies were clear and birds chirped again.

GhostPony: “Well, that was one wild musical mess.”

Jenkins (dusting himself off): “You know what they say—don't mess with mystical relics unless you’ve packed snacks.”

Lightning Bass: “That thing almost made my bass cannon jealous.”

Lacey Farmer (yawning): “Can we go home now?”

Princess Kincade: “Yes. But first—ice cream.”

SFX: DING-DING! (ice cream cart bell)

All Together: “WOOOHOOOO!”

THE END

[hypnotichyenascrunchyrollcatchup]

Crunchyroll Summer 2024 Anime Season

Hey guys, as the new season of anime rolls out, I thought I would make some changes to my review schedule, including making posts like this at the beginning of each season so you guys know what I'll be reviewing. Full disclosure, I will just be taking all this information from the crunchyroll website because I'm not really a journalist, I'm just some guy trying my best ok.

Going forward here's what you can expect from my reviews: First Impressions- Literally just writing down my first thoughts free form Still Watching?- After 4 episodes I will return to discuss whether I think the show is worth continuing Season Wrap Up- If I have indicated that I would be continuing the series in the previous post, this is where I'd organize my thoughts about the season as a whole with much more structure.

Anyway onto the line-up, please note I will be excluding series that isn't on its first season because I won't be reviewing those, so check out the official post for all returning series.

June 26th

The Strongest Magician in the Demon Lord's Army was a Human The fearsome leader of the demon army has a secret identity, but how long will they be able to hide it?

June 29th

My Wife Has No Emotion After a new robot comes into his life, one man will take the leap of mechanical matrimony!

July 1st

The Ossan Newbie Adventurer, Trained to Death by the Most Powerful Party, Became Invincible At 30, a guild clerk trades his job for adventure, training with elites to become an unstoppable force!

July 2nd

TASUKETSU -Fate of the Majority- A student finds himself in a game of survival as half of the human population disappears each night!

July 3rd

Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian This lazy student pretends not to understand when his colleague Alya flirts with him in Russian.

July 4th

Senpai is an Otokonoko Makoto's caught in a love triangle when Saki and Ryuji both confess. Can he navigate the chaos and have fun?

Days with My Stepsister An unlikely love story begins when Yuuta's dad remarries, and his new stepsister is the cutest girl in school.

Pseudo Harem Rin shifts personas to win harem-fan Eiji's heart, but will she ever reveal her true self?

Twilight Out of Focus Two roommates have strict rules about their livelihoods, only to find out more things about themselves.

July 5th

Quality Assurance in Another World A QA debugger saves a girl from a dragon, sparking her curiosity. Together, they seek the world's true nature.

July 6th

SHOSHIMIN: How to Become Ordinary Kobato and Osanai aim for quiet lives, but chaos follows them. Can they find peace amid the mayhem?

July 7th

Wistoria: Wand and Sword Will enters a magic academy, with the hidden secret that he doesn't have magical abilities at all!

VTuber Legend: How I Went Viral after Forgetting to Turn Off My Stream One Vtuber will find her life flipped upside down as a still-recording stream reveals her real personality!

Narenare -Cheer for You!- Follow six high school girls, each with distinct personalities, as they navigate life and find support.

My Deer Friend Nokotan Shikanokonokonokokoshitantan!!

A Journey Through Another World: Raising Kids While Adventuring Takumi, reincarnated with powerful skills, will raise twins in a dangerous world as they adventure together.

July 8th

MAYONAKA PUNCH Join Masaki and Live on their quest to hit one million subscribers on their NewTube channel!

July 9th

No Longer Allowed in Another World 20th-century author Osamu seeks a quiet end but finds heroics in a whimsical, otherworldly adventure!

July 10th

Love Is Indivisible by Twins A high school boy is in love with two girls, who happen to be twins and his childhood friends!

July 12th

Bye Bye, Earth Belle Leblac tries to find herself after being born the only human in a world of anthropomorphic animals.

July 13th

ATRI -My Dear Moments- A boy and a mysterious robot girl will live an unforgettable summer in a world mostly submerged underwater!

Makeine: Too Many Losing Heroines! Kazuhiko ends up in the unexpected drama of his classmates: the most popular girls who are being rejected!

Why Does Nobody Remember Me in This World? A "World Rebirth" suddenly begins after a war between humans and other races of monsters.

August 7th

Delico's Nursery An aristocrat from a prestigious vampire family refuses a mission because…he has to take care of children?!

One last thing The dates listed here are the dates that the anime first airs, however my policy is to schedule each review a week later because: 1. That's when the anime becomes available for non premium members 2. To give me time because life happens

[wistsandmagic]

Ren. Ren. Why did you do this to me. XD; OKAY JUST A HEADS UP I AM NOT TAGGING ANYONE, because if I did I would have to HUNT to have enough people to tag. I HAVE WAY TOO MANY WIPS. So. Blanket tag. Anyone who wants to do it, this is your permission! 1. Blurred Lines and Shifted Sparks 2. A Job To Do 3. Cries from the Past 4. Drinking and Driving (Not Very Well) 5. The Bench 6. Coffee and Libraries 7. Tamer of Dragons, Dragon-Chosen 8. I'd Rather Hear Your Hell 9. Unit 13 10. Death Becomes Me 11. Corrupted Garden (Larger than Life) 12. Wayward Son, Forgive Thyself 13. Androids and Circus Freaks 14. Porcelain Dolls and Gothic Knights 15. Spiritkeeper, Lightbringer, Hope In The Dark 16. Chocobros 17. Ties that Bind 18. Mawwage and All That Entails 19. Prime Trouble and Mayhem 20. Speak For My City, Not For Me 21. If I Sing With Your Voice, God Won't Forget Me 22. Flowerpot of DOOM 23. Vortex and the Case of Glees 24. Child of God With a Mortal Complex 25. Ghost of Me 26. Neon Tea Circuitry

....I'm stopping there. I could go on. But I'm stopping THERE.

Original Post Rules: “WIP Tag Game: Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.”

Hm. Uh.... I don't think I have as many people to tag as I do WIPs so I shall see XD

- And When the Gods Weep

- And So the Phoenix Rose

- Blank Pages

- A Twisted World

- The Worst Game Show Ever

- If I Should Die

- An Ode to the Soulmate

- Repeating (For Years to Come)

- The Caged Bird Sings

- Seismic Tremors

- Trouvaille

- We Are Living Echoes

- Remnants of a Bitter Life

- For Healing and Homes

- Who the hell likes living just to die?

- Lying liar

...So that comes in at 16 WIPs. Time to see if I have enough people to tag in the first place XD

@arrowheadedbitch @quackery-binx @the-autistic-spider @wandering-tides @misakisakuya @eryhenituse @jslmasaysmoneyisbest @darliiinqq @xarlutye @venus-dawnstar @blueteller @calethescammer @murasaki-cha @records-of-a-slacker @echoelena-ing @jaded-ghoster

That's enough people off the top of my head! Feel free to ignore this post if I tagged you :)

[hanjisungz]

nooo void :( im gonna miss him sm ☹️ it's so sad to see so many veteran players go,,, omg pls share who!! aside from shanghai ive also become a bit of a glads fan (for shu and patiphan!! (even tho pati left to go back to valorant, it was so good seeing him finally play in owl 🥹)), more of a fuel fan this year bc of how exciting watching their games were :> and a little bit of mayhem for xzi hehe - fleta anon

omg also forgot to say yeah i heard that lip might be enlisting next year 😔 i feel like a bunch of pros from that started in s1-s2 are going to enlist :( missing a bunch of them rn 🥲 - fleta anon

yea it really is so sad like tbh.... i'm kinda waiting on some announcements from seoul like for smurf/fits/maybe profit ??? but i don't think profit will enlist bc he's only my age so he's still quite young he might wait another season to enlist but yea i'm gonna miss them especially void i remember him on glads :((((

omg okay so obviously i'm a dragons and nyxl fan but i also came to really like someone and hydron on mayhem (also bc anamo is on the team and i have to support former nyxl players), i've become More of a fuel fan (because i liked them a lot since 2020) because of chiyo and fearless (my baby boy and my babe 😋) and also become a spark fan for shy, alphayi and guxue !!! idk what it is but shy is just so 🥴😵‍💫 so yea but i think my top three teams are nyxl, dragons and mayhem !!!

honestly,,, i was a glads fan at the beginning of the season because of shu and kevster but after the news of space came out and also reiner being just an arrogant/sore loser human being i kinda stopped supporting glads ://// i still love shu tho !!

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.  

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man­. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

[margarine-archives]

General Dating HCs with : Royal Margarine Cookie !

notes : hello ! I apologize that this took a massively long time. For reasons unknown I had quite the difficulty writing for him for the first time. Though, I may start completing requests before or after I post his courting hcs ( it will depend if my mind starts blanking out again .. )

- the dragon rider can't go on a day without giving you atleast one flirtatious remark, or even a praise ! Whether or not you swoon over his words is up to you.

- how could he not ? he thinks of you as a divine god that simply roams around dragon city, and for him to successfully pull you ? He feels so complete !

- adding along to this, this cookie greatly enjoys classic, romantic gestures. He will not be embarrassed to remove his coat, covering the very obvious puddle, and assisting you to walk over it, all the while looking at you with such love, one that you could only ever see in romance movies, and could only ever be described in poetic novels

- before becoming his partner though, you need to be approved by buttercream first ! He feels that it is dictation that it's not only him who has trust and love for you. If you want to be his, make sure to give as much love to his beloved dragon ( wyvern ) as you do for him ( he won't admit the fact he gets quite jealous of her sometimes .. )

- he most definitely enjoys a partner that can beat him up if they wanted to, but also a cookie that's sweet, who's willing to embrace his affections ! If you travel with him on the way to dragon's valley, buttercream can sense the sickeningly lovestruck heart eyes he gives your way as you fight, supporting you from above.

- " hahahah !! that's my lover right there ! go mayhem on them sweetie ! ~ " he has most likely bragged about you during the travel too ( you don't know if he loves you too much or he wants to embarass you, you appreciate it nonetheless )

- tries to fight aswell to impress you too, but he's quite embarrassed of his low hunting score in comparison to the others ( you and tarte tatin cookie have a tied score together ! )

- although, he does not mind a partner that relies on him aswell ! in fact, it gives him a very massive ego boost. Of course he wouldn't mind in becoming your knight in shining armor ! Saving his significant other from any form of danger ! ( even if, in most cases, they aren't really harmful )

- " do not worry darling ! THE dragon rider has arrived to rescue you ! " and it's simply trivial things such as taking you away in unpleasant conversations, carrying you bridal style. He will be quite amused to see your embarassed face

- on a more serious side, whether you can fend for yourself or not, he is willing to sacrifice limb and body just for you to be alive, breathing, safe, who is still there with him. You had promised him you would stay until his very last crumb, he isn't willing to give up on that so easily.

- and as his partner, soaring through the sky or even going on lovely walks with buttercream is an everyday date ! ( he is a firm believer that a day is incomplete without a small date with you ! ), most of the time visiting the bar for a drink or two afterwards ( typically more than just two anyways .. ). Be sure to prepare yourself to bring him home, as he's too busy being a flirt with you than to think about resting up !

- alongside this, it's typically difficult to achieve privacy when he has a swarm of fans behind his tail, he tries his very best to make it up to you at the end of the day ~

- he is very understanding if your jealousy sparks up because of his behavior ( he can't imagine seeing you acting the same as him to any other cookie either ! ) and constantly tells cookies that he is most definitely taken by the loveliest cookie on earthbread !

- some of which are either not that much of a fan with him or isn't even a part of dragon city ( hollyberry, wildberry and pitaya dragon cookie ), which leads to more than just the citizens being aware of your relationship due to how obvious he is about it

- everyone can see how hopelessly in love royal margarine cookie is with you. The second longer glances he gives your way and the oh-so enchanting eyes of his that stares at you with such love and affection ! All his fans simply dream of being you !

- behind all of this though, he definitely has a softer side indoors ! He is reduced to nothing but a smitten man, clingy for his lover. Please give him hugs and kisses ! He feels himself falling harder for you every time you praise him

- the cookie feels as if you're too out of his league, and dreads the thought of you finding out his true identity, the actual weak and cowardice royal margarine cookie. Would you leave him if you had found out ? He would leave himself too

- now with royal margarine, he's insistent of you opening up to him, whether that be negative or positive. He thinks that it is a strengthening bond to open up and learn more about eachother !

- but because of his inner thoughts, he isn't as willing to open up about his feelings, maybe never opening up at all. The only way he'll ever open up to you is when he's drunk (which makes him feel lower most of the time), he feels like a weak cookie if he ever tries opening up while sober. He dislikes being a weak and simple cookie than his persona tells him to be

- he feels like a failure for not pursuing what he truly wants, and to be reminded of that as he opens up never makes him feel any lighter. Do not be insistent with it ( he will avoid such topics in every possible way ), give him some time to be more trusting of you. Sooner or later, you won't need alcohol just for this man to open up ( will only open up around 1/4 of how he feels but to him its a big step ! )

- he cannot avoid the feeling of being judged, to be completely seen of who he truly is. To even think about finally trusting you with who the true royal margarine cookie is like without getting wasted is a big enough step for him, for you to figure out that the royal margarine isn't as royal as he seems.

- He feels as if he takes any more than one step then he will truly break, he never wants to reach that point, especially if you are there to witness it all, the littlest thought of it makes him shiver from humiliation. He needs to seek out buttercream for some form of comfort, he wouldn't know what he'd do if you ever found out

- you do find out though, just not in the circumstances he wants..

- nonetheless, coward or confident, you continued to love and adore the cookie you chose to be with, and royal margarine cookie feels happier than succeeding his goal in becoming a true dragon rider. The cookie did not care if he could never pursue his goal, you and buttercream can never replace, nor can it ever compare the happiness that you both give him !

[mocacheezy]

And the title of "Was so amusing I forgot he was supposed to represent a ruthless villain" goes to: ✨Beast Wars Megatron (1996)✨

[Show spoilers below, but you probably know that already.]

Extra note: I am a TF newbie. This is my opinion and I don't have all the details for the many continuities that exist. I just need to scream about a purple T-Rex.

As the shows main villain, he seems more comical than threatening, but during the second and third season he:

Cut out an immortal spark from a failed Maximal science experiment, and continuously used it to torture said experiment (both for his amusement AND practicality, since Rampage would destroy him otherwise)

Called a deformed protoform ugly, "with an ugly name to match its appearance", and called it useless since it is unable to transform.

(Yeah, the above doesn't sound bad or unusual by villain standards, but these are things that had me go "What the fuck, aren't you the theatre kid of a villain? What is this?!", so if it made me react like that it's on the list. The following things also contribute to my reaction)

Set up the before mentioned protoform to an impossible task of essentially killing all Maximals and bringing proof of their deactivation as a test of its competence (bring me their heads... Dramatic✨)

By calling it useless since "It can't even transform!", he is spitting on the name of his predecessor, the original Megatron

(I am atleast 90% certain that G1 Megatron (and any other Megatron really) would take a look at it, figure out if it can hold a gun/fight/be useful and let it fight. Can't even transform my ass, as long as it can be manipulated and/or fight for the Cons it doesn't matter if it can or can't transform you copper bitch!)

Decided to cut the Maximal science experiment's immortal spark in half to create a new Frankensteined transmetal super soldier.

In order to obtain more power he took the original Megatron's spark and "mingled" it with his. And by mingled, I mean he inserted it into his own spark chamber with his own spark and kept it there. Not intending to return it to the original frame most likely.

Until the very last episode of the third season, until the last 10 or so minutes, it looked like he was going to win. I am talking the whole "Are the good guys going to win?" kind of doubt on my end.

But the real kicker and the reason why I'm so shocked?

He was in character through all of this! He didn't get "more evil" or "crazier" or "ruthless" as the seasons progressed. He wasn't "meaner" or "less charismatic". He behaved precisely as he did in the first season, same dramatics in his movements and speech and all of that!

The only difference was that he was doing something actually threatening and villainous in front of us viewers!

That's what had me staring at the screen with wide eyes; the fact I got fooled by his personality and didn't perceive him as an actual threat.

From the 3 shows I finished watching so far (Prime, Animated, Beast Wars) he threw me in for the biggest fucking loop.

Because with other Megatrons it's very clear what kind of a villain they are from the start:

Prime Megatron looks like a threat, moves like a threat, and while he has charisma, we don't see it that often. And he has dramatics, but those are mostly reserved for fights with Optimus or Unicron-poprock-crystal-candy induced hallucinations. And even then it's more like grand, over the top speeches, not silliness.

Animated Megatron has class. He is charismatic and uses this to his advantage to the extreme. He manipulates everyone and anyone, his followers are ready to fight eachother for a crumb of his praise, and a chance to be called "most loyal". He has dramatics (more than just the fact he twists his oil barrels into goblets) and he has embarassing moments infront of his troops, but those are due to circumstances, not him being silly.

I am in the process of watching Cyberverse, and so far this Megatron is a threat, doesn't seem like much of a threat when fighting the autobots, and to my limited spoiler-fueled knowledge, will become a bigger threat later on.

Take another look at Beast Wars Megatron and tell me if you'd consider this guy a threat:

He monologues and laughs TheVillainLaugh so often, you start to expect it and just wait for it most episodes. At one point he laughs so hard he ends up choking on it. And after his coughing fit he resumes his plan monologue as if nothing happened. And it's not like the other Predacons don't acknowledge their boss' behaviour:

That doesn't mean he doesn't have some loyal Predacons; Scorponok, Waspinator and Inferno being the ones that come to mind (also the ones that crave his approval and praise the most), with the other Preds leaning more towards treachery. But how he handles treachery or disobedience or even talking back, where it seems like he's bantering, not threatening them,

His personality just doesn't fit with the traits and behaviours the other two Megatrons exibit, the kind of traits that I started to expect of Megatron as a character.

He doesn't fit my perception of a Megatron that is a threat.

Which, considering the narrative of transformers, says alot about me and the way I essentially placed the character into a mold and went "alright, angry, commands and demands attention, can be ruthless, is stupid enough to keep a guy as his SIC/ on his team, despite multiple murder attempts and scheming".

Now, if we get into actual details, Beast Wars Megatron wouldn't count as "an actual Megatron", since the show itself is set after the Great War between the autobots and decepticons, G1 timeline. This Megatron took his predecessors name, so for all we know his name could be Joe before he changed it.

But his actions and the "destroy and conquer and lay the groundwork for future plans while you're causing mayhem" thing he has going on? That is Megatron behaviour as far as I can see.

And, granted, Beast Wars is the oldest out of the three shows I've watched (Animated 2007, Prime 2011), and so he is older than both of them, his characterization might be much closer to G1 than both Prime and Animated!

But before this becomes a full on essay full of misinformation (and more spelling mistakes), I'll just give my thanks to each continuity being it's own thing, with enough variety to keep you on your toes, while expecting how the general plot might go.

I hate that I can't even fully hate him, because he is so incredibly entertaining, so I am stuck looking @ the screen, cursing the fucking prehistoric grape lizard fidget spinner of the future, because he is so vile but he does it in style.

Here's a flattering picture of him as I seethe.

🎉Congratulations you metal Barney on rollerskates!🎉 You are truly despicable, the worst! I hope you choke on a rubber ducky💕

[He also gets a smaller trophy for his Transmetal MegaMode (or whatever it is called officially), because its a fucking dragon. He went from a bubblegum T-rex, to a copper rollerskating T-rex that can fly, to a red and gold dragon that can breathe fire and ice. So yeah, drastic transformation wise, no competition here, as well as levels of drama that came with each alt.]

[damn-stark]

One Last Time

Oliver Wood x Hufflepuff!reader

Requested by anon “hi!!!! can you please do oliver wood x reader and the the reader is a triwizard champion instead of cedric and since oliver has graduated he comes back to watch her and is really really sad when she dies? thank u!”

A/N-why? Why? I love it though, hope you all do too!

Warning- Violence, talks of death, angst, fluff and sadness….

———-

In the disarray of the clouded and final eventful game that was going to take place, you paced around in the tent. Feeling attacked by your own nervous thoughts, tuning out every sound around and blocking every pacing competitor that was as nervous, or even more so than you. In that mayhem albeit literally bumping into the man that had been also occupying your thoughts and the only one that could break you from your stupor.

“Oliver!” You exclaimed happily as you threw your arms around his neck and felt his wrap around your waist to return the sudden welcoming hug. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Oliver pulled away to show his sly grin, “Of course I’d be here to support my favorite girl.”

You giggle and step on the tip of your toes to give him a small peck on his lips. “For good luck.”

“Well in that case.” He smiles, moving to share another, but stopping once Dumbledore instructs everyone to walk out. In that instant once more feeling the gut wrenching feeling reappear, but finding more comfort as your boyfriend Oliver took your hand in his to accompany you out.

Hearing the upbeat music playing outside and the excited cheers and chants sang by the students the further you walked out. Getting blinded by the light of the bright scenery once you finally all step out and see the buzzing crowd, finally feeling giddy as you heard your name from your fellow Hufflepuff classmates; feeling thrilled and inspired as you noticed posters with your name written on it’s yellow material, friends that you would see for the last time with your name painted on their foreheads. You waved and grinned wider at all of them, holding onto Oliver’s hand tighter as Dumbledore's voice boomed around the crowd and silenced them with his announcement.

“Earlier today, Professor Moody placed the Triwizard Cup deep within the maze. Only he knows it’s exact position. Now as Miss, L/N…” Oliver at the sound of your name rose your hand and the crowd roared in excitement, just as they did when Harry Potter's name was announced. “...and Mr. Potter tied for first position, they will be the first to enter the maze, followed by Mr.Krum and Miss Delcour. First person that touches the cup will be the winner! I’ve instructed the staff to patrol the perimeter should at any point a contestant wish to withdraw from the task. He or she only need to send up red sparks with their wands.” Dumbledore turns around to address all of you playing. “Contestants gather around, quickly!”

Doing so with no hesitation you walk up and hear his words of caution. “In the maze, you’ll find no dragons, or creatures of the deep. Instead you’ll face something even more challenging. You see people change in the maze. Oh, find the cup if you can, but be very wary, you could lose yourselves along the way.” With that said he lets you turn back and finally go back to Oliver’s side to share an unknowingly last interaction.

“Good luck out there.” He says, cupping one cheek. “And know that whatever happens I’ll still be proud of you.”

You smile warmly and feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes, “okay. I love you, Oli.”

“I love you too.” He responds back before pulling you into one last final goodbye before you turned around, offering Harry a small and nice smile. Beginning to feel your nerves pick up but suddenly disappear as the cannon sounded signifying that it was time.

Which this time you did hesitate just a little to walk into the dark ominous maze, hearing no sounds of what was before inside, almost as if you had been transported somewhere else completely. Wanting almost just to be pulled back out by the sudden isolating and terrified feeling the overcame your entire body; and only grew the deeper you needed to continue regardless, avoiding the rustling of the leaves and howling of the wind; startled by the sudden collapse of the maze walls that seemed to want to swallow you inside its depths, cutting you with its sharp branches and tugging your arms. Making you let out a pained and loud groan that lasted until you stopped fighting and ripped out of its hold.

“Blimey.” You breathed out as you caught your breath and studied the fogged covered area. Finding no solace in the silence however as you heard within the walls, or above, or everywhere around the voice of the only person you had in your life.

“Y/N! Help me!”

You gasp and your eyes widen horror, “Oliver! Oliver where are you?!”

It sounded again in a much more traumatic, pained wail. “Y/N! Help me! I’m over here! Help me.”

Without thinking your mind clouded with the only priority now, hearing your thumping heart be the only sound to echo around as you began to race towards the cries for help, feeling tears race down your cheeks.

All of it suddenly blowing away as you crashed into Victor Krum. “Sorry, I—” you cut your words off as you took note of his cloudy eyes and contorted expression, walking back and turning to run away as his wand raised in front of you.

Whilst also concluding as realization hit with the sudden more fearful act that what you heard was nothing but a trick. The maze wanting you to lose your goal in finding the cup, just like Krum—but unlike the maze’s trick you were smarter to outbeat the player chasing you, losing him in a sharp turn that only led you moments later to Harry Potter and Krum. His goals undying and your warning and attack quicker. “Get down! Expelliarmus!”

In a hasty move you ran forward kicked away Krum's wand and tempted to attack him once more until Harry Potter stopped you, hearing in the distance a soft hum that made Harry and you suddenly break into a run. Tugging one another back as you both raced each other towards the sound of the cup; captivated in a sudden awe as the cup came to view that seconds later made Harry and you start racing again in a much more violent way. Feeling your heart jolt in excitement and then sudden surprise as you’re pulled down by growing sharp vines, unable to fight its hold as it grows stronger and more painful as it intents to drag you into the depths of the maze grew.

You clawed the dirt and called to Harry while your life flashed before your eyes. Only wanting to be saved now instead of wanting to win. “Harry! Harry! Harry!”

“Reducto!”

A bright flash flew past you, hitting and loosening one of the vines until Harry came and set you loose. Letting you catch your breath after he helped you off the ground.

“Thank you Harry.”

Said boy quickly answered with the same kindness. “No problem.”

“For a moment there,” you breathed, “I thought you were going to let it get me.”

“So did I.” He admitted.

“Some game, huh?”

“Some game.” Harry repeated. Both of your attentions ripped away as high winds began to blow and the walls began to cave in. Forcing the both of you to finish the maze and get to the cup in a faster pace until you came to a sudden halt before the cup; your eyes glancing from the glowing object, the maze and Harry one last time to insist him to take it for what he did to help you moments before. Something he didn’t take and fought against you until he came with a solution to grab it together. A choice that caused you to be swept away in a blink of an eye and get dropped in some place dark.

You stayed on the ground for a moment to catch your breath one last time, noticing the cup was out of your grasp and Harry remained close—“Are you okay?”

Harry nodded, “yeah. You?”

Standing up you notice all the stone statues, daring you to ask and avoid the previous question, “where are we?”

Was this some last task?

“I’ve been here before.” Harry muttered a couple feet away.

Wondering to the cup you realize with a grin. “It’s a port key. Harry the cup is a port key—”

“I’ve been here before in a dream.” Harry repeated in a more panicked tone. “Y/N we have to head back to the cup, now!”

Your amusement falls and you turn to offer him a narrowed gaze. “What are you talking about?”

A creek sounds from one of the small stone houses and Harry suddenly begins to scream in agony. Causing you to instinctively check up on him, “Harry what is it?”

“Get back to the cup!” He yelled again as a small round dirty man walked out with something in its arms, sending you on high alert and a quick defensive stance with your wand in hand.

“Who are you? What do you want?!” You bellowed, hearing a raspy command shortly after.

“Kill the spare!”

Before you could do anything, before you could fight back or block anything, words you never thought you would hear screamed out, “Avada Kedavra!” The spell shooting out and hitting your chest so strongly that it sent you flying back and taking the life out of you in a flash of a second.

Such a spell not even letting you experience none of what you heard happens during someone’s death; no flashes of your sad lonely beginning, nor memories of your happy school years that brought you to meet friends you thought would get to see forever, or Oliver, the man you would grow to love. Nothing happened but a sudden cold end.

A death that led you to experience one last real memory that let you feel light-weight, ready to ask one last verbal question to the boy that had been by you when the darkness of death came. “Harry. Take my body back will you. Take my body back to Oliver.”

Harry’s eyes went to you and he nodded, making you smile and later help him one last time before nothing.

(Oliver’s p.o.v)

It had been so long, felt like years since he last saw you disappear into the maze to be left with nothing but anxious wait. Only feeling relieved and excited hours later as something flashed and two bodies dropped to the ground.

Harry and you.

Oliver grinned and cheered with excitement at your success, embracing his friends in a happy hug with a happy grin spreading on his lips. A gesture that turned grim as the music and cheering soon thereafter stopped and people began to crowd the two bodies he saw come back. Hearing gasps, murmurs and screams echoing around the crowd that made him realize something that made his heart feel as if it had stopped.

Quickly he pushed through the crowd and ran down the stairs to run towards the huddled crowd. “Let me through! Let me through!”

A chilling gasp escaped as he finally saw your lifeless body splayed on the ground with Harry’s body weeping on top and Dumbledore trying to comfort him until he saw Oliver and heard his mutters that turned into cries.

“No! No! Y/N?!” Oliver fell on his knees and cupped your cheeks, feeling his uncontrollable, hot tears fall on your face as he rested his forehead on yours. “Please, please come back. Y/N?! Baby.” Letting out a pained cry that seemed to echo for miles he followed by cradling your body and kissing your lips one last time, speaking to your cold body just as sweetly as before. One last time.

“Please, please. I love you….please…”

[addictedtooverwatch]

OWL: Overwatch League Teams Tier List

Since the 2021 Overwatch League Season is starting in a couple of days(April 16th), I want to talk about my opinions on the teams. Even though OWL doesn’t get as much attention as it did when it first started, I still really enjoy watching it and want to talk about it. I’ll get back to theories soon, but I want to write about this so, I’m going to go over each team from the top to bottom of my tier list.

S Tier - Most Likely to make Playoffs

San Francisco Shock: They are obviously at the top for winning the Overwatch League two times in a row. I think they might become even more aggressive with FDGod replacing Moth as main support and with Nero kind of taking over Rascal’s place for flex DPS. I’m interested in seeing how Glister does since he is replacing the god on Widowmaker that Ans was or if Striker is going to be playing more Widowmaker.

Shanghai Dragons: They did really good, being top four, but they didn’t look great during the playoffs. I have no doubt they will do good since they have Fleta, the 2020 MVP, but I still think SF Shock is better.

A Tier - Might make Playoffs

Washington Justice: I’m from D.C. so I am biased, but they looked really good just before the playoffs. They also have Decay who is an amazing player overall, and they picked up Assassin, Fury, and Mag over the offseason which I think is definitely a good thing.

Seoul Dynasty: So, they made playoffs and top two, so I think that they definitely have a chance to get to playoffs again, but they weren't as consistent as Shanghai which is why they are lower.

Philadelphia Fusion: Like I said, I'm biased toward the Justice, but the Fusion did make it to playoffs and I think had the most stable run through the 2020 season, but they looked awful in the playoffs even with Carpe playing.

Los Angeles Gladiators: They have looked good last season and have picked up Moth and Shu, so they got some upgrades. They also picked up MuZe and skewed who have decent records in Overwatch Contenders.

Dallas Fuel: They picked up most of the Paris Eternal roster from last season, so MAJOR UPGRADES. They also got Fearless from Shanghai which is also good.

B Tier - Middle of the Pack

Florida Mayhem: They did decent last year, with Yaki and BQB looking really good, but they never did anything amazing. They didn't win any major tournaments and acted slightly as gatekeepers between the best and decent teams. Also, they traded Fate and got Oge which seems more like a sidegrade, not an upgrade. They did get Slime though, so I'm not sure.

New York Excelsior: They did alright last year, but never looked as good as they used to. With that said, they got a bunch of contenders talent who look really good and they still have JJoNak and BiaNcA who looked good last season.

Boston Uprising: They looked like trash last year, but they got some major upgrades. They were able to get Valentine who is a really good DPS player, so I think that there is a good amount of potential.

Atlanta Reign: Like Florida, they are gatekeepers, but they got Kai, formerly known as KSP, and Pelican which makes their DPS lineup look a lot scarier.

C Tier - Has Potential

Toronto Defiant: Toronto didn't look that good last year and I haven't seen them play in any offseason tournaments, so I'm not sure how much they have improved. Though, they got players from Philadelphia Fusion and LA Valiant, so they might be better.

Guangzhou Charge: They did alright last season, but not super consistently. They also didn't look great in the skirmish they did against the NYXL and they traded Happy and Nero, two of their best players in my opinion, but you never know.

Houston Outlaws: They have some really good talent, with Happy, KSF, and JAKE, but I'm not sure how good they will do. They could go higher up on this list though.

Chengdu Hunters: I would put them in the middle of the pack tier if they weren't as inconsistent as they were last season. They won matches when the meta was good for them, but it wasn't that often a good meta for them came up.

Hangzhou Spark: They weren't great last year. They didn't win much, but I think they have potential since they have players like Architect or GodsB who looked alright.

D Tier - Ehhhh

Vancouver Titans: They were like the worst team last season and they traded sHockWave to the Philadelphia Fusion who was like their best player, but they got LiNkzr who is amazing, so they might be ok.

Paris Eternal: So, they got rid of three of their FRENCH players, SoOn, NiCOgdh, and BenBest which I think isn't great for their reputation, and in the matches, we have seen the new team in, they didn't look great.

London Spitfire: They looked pretty bad last year in APAC and lost what we have seen them play in so far.

F - Abandoned their old team

Los Angeles Valiant: Like the title suggests, they dropped their whole team and move to China. So, they dropped McGravy, Agilities, KSF, KSP/Kai, Adam, RaiN, Lastro, Dreamer, and Shax. Most of them were picked up by other teams like Kai going to Atlanta and Lastro and Agilities going to Toronto, but some of them decided to quit like McGravy and RaiN. Also, the new team was just thrown together; some Chinese Contenders players were offered to join and they declined. Check out PlatChat's podcast episode on it.

Anyways, I'll post my Archives 2021 Skin review soon, I just felt like posting this earlier than planned. Also, if you have the time, you should check out PlatChat's power rankings, it's really long, like almost 3 hours, but from what I have watched it's really funny and informative.

TLDR: Look at the image below or read the full post, please, and thank you!

[jenkinsthedragon220]

title: GhostPony Adventures Across Equestria 31

Chapter 1: The Storm Over Ponyville SFX: CRASH! BOOOOM! ⚡🌩️

The sky above Ponyville turned a deep violet as a magical storm brewed overhead.

GhostPony (lifting his head): “Every time I plan for a quiet day, something explodes in the sky…”

Princess Kincade (gently): “Maybe it’s not a normal storm. Look—there’s lightning forming words!”

High above, glowing letters crackled through the clouds: "THE HARMONIC CORE HAS BEEN DISTURBED."

JC (squinting): “Harmonic Core? Isn’t that some ancient magical relic?”

Jenkins the Dragon (hovering beside them): “Yup. Also known as the ‘Please Do Not Touch’ relic that no pony ever listens to.”

SFX: BOOM! ZZZZZAAAP!

Suddenly, a beam of blue magic zapped from the clouds and hit the Everfree Forest.

Mr. Black (firmly): “We need to investigate. Now.”

Chapter 2: Everfree Mayhem SFX: CRUNCH! TWIG SNAP! WHOOSH!

The group galloped into the forest. GhostPony led, his horn glowing.

Stephanie W Kincade (riding on her dad's back): “Dad, I see sparks in the trees!”

Jack Farmer (trotting beside): “Something’s moving in the mist…!”

Rogan (growling): “This feels wrong. Too quiet.”

SFX: ROAAAAR!

A magical tree beast burst from the shadows, roots thrashing.

Greenmane (shouting): “It’s corrupted by storm magic!”

Dani Farmer (hiding): “Do we run or blast it!?”

Lightning Zapp (horn glowing bright blue): “Let me try something—ZAPP ATTACK!”

SFX: ZAP-ZAP-ZZZAAAAP! 🌟

The spell sent rainbow sparks ricocheting across the clearing, stunning the tree beast.

Chapter 3: The Core Keeper The beast retreated, leaving behind a glowing shard.

Lacey Farmer (picking it up): “This looks like part of the Harmonic Core!”

Queen Artiste (elegantly): “Then something—or somepony—is pulling it apart. And if we don’t fix it…”

Flash Sentry (arriving with dust on his armor): “It gets worse. I just got word. The Canterlot archives have been… scrambled.”

GhostPony (serious): “Then it’s time to head to the Harmonic Temple. Everypony ready?”

SFX: FWOOSH! (Jenkins lands on GhostPony’s back)

Jenkins: “Locked, loaded, and carrying extra gumdrops.”

Chapter 4: Harmonic Temple Trouble SFX: SCREEEEEEEK… (massive doors creaking open)

The ancient temple pulsed with unstable magic.

Lightning Bass (scanning the walls): “Looks like a spell battle went down here… recently.”

Princess Kincade (hovering): “I sense something… beneath.”

SFX: BWWWWWMMMM! (floor opens!)

They dropped into a glowing chamber where shards of the Harmonic Core floated mid-air, pulsing wildly.

JC (shouting): “It’s unstable! Jenkins, toss me that stabilizer crystal!”

SFX: TINK! SHWOOOM!

The pieces pulled together… then exploded in a magical surge.

SFX: KRA-KOOOOOOM! 💥

Chapter 5: Into the Core The team awoke inside a surreal dimension of glowing music notes, shifting clouds, and harmonic fields.

Stephanie W Kincade: “Whoa… are we inside the Core?!”

GhostPony (awestruck): “This is… incredible.”

Dani Farmer: “Hey, the notes are reacting to our voices!”

Mr. Black (nodding): “Sing, chant, talk—any sound shapes this place.”

The group harmonized together—each voice, a thread of light weaving the core back together.

SFX: OOOOOOOHHMMM… 🎶

Suddenly, a shadowy pony figure formed.

Rogan: “That’s no guardian… that’s a thief!”

Lightning Zapp (lighting up): “I got this—ZAPP MELODY STRIKE!”

SFX: K-CHOWWWWWW!

The thief disintegrated in a burst of harmony. The Core glowed golden.

Chapter 6: Balance Restored SFX: FWWWWOOOOOOMMMM!

The team was transported back to Ponyville, where skies were clear and birds chirped again.

GhostPony: “Well, that was one wild musical mess.”

Jenkins (dusting himself off): “You know what they say—don't mess with mystical relics unless you’ve packed snacks.”

Lightning Bass: “That thing almost made my bass cannon jealous.”

Lacey Farmer (yawning): “Can we go home now?”

Princess Kincade: “Yes. But first—ice cream.”

SFX: DING-DING! (ice cream cart bell)

All Together: “WOOOHOOOO!”

THE END

[yourdeepestfathoms]

we poured mud through their veins (part one)

the first installment of an au i am in love with 

in which a new member joins the Deetz-Maitland family!

-------------------------------

The sky was the color of the ocean- dark, wild, and swallowing everything in its wake. The only thing that could possibly rival its impenetrable wall of thick black-blue were the occasional cracks of blazing lightning that split the roiling clouds like a hot knife. The storm would be cut in half at the flash of its searing glory, then sewed itself back together like a monstrous, watery wound. The wind was so fierce that it seemed to be sent by an enraged being (in which Delia would helpfully say it was “God” or “angels playing bowling”) to punish Winter River for some unruly sin. Water rushed down the streets like baby rivers, threatening to drag anything and anyone in its way down the asphalt with it. Raindrops battered windows and walls and doors, knocking so viciously like an unwanted guest.

An unwanted guest. That was what this damn storm was. And Lydia was at her wit’s end with this elemental stranger.

Her computer crashed for the third time and she finally slammed the lid close, letting out a miserable groan that was soon challenged by a deep rumble of thunder. She cringed, curling her shoulders in, and then sighed.

 “Fuck this storm,” She growled.

 “Language,” Barbara said from the kitchen.

 “Sorry,” Lydia muttered. “Screw this storm.”

Barbara chuckled lovingly. “Better.” She peered over at the closed laptop. “Everything okay?”

 “It keeps crashing,” Lydia said miserably. “And I’m finally not procrastinating on doing my essay!”

 “You had an essay due?” Adam looked at Lydia sharply, yanking his head out from the spice cabinet.

Lydia smiled innocently. “Maaaybe,” She said. She noticed the stern expression on Adam’s face. “Hey, I’m doing it! So don’t worry!”

 “Hmm,” Adam squinted at her suspiciously. “Seems like you planned this.”

 “What? Me? Never!” Lydia said.

Barbara laughed again and then turned back to the pot she was stirring. “What’s your essay on?”

 “Well, my English class needed to write something that had to do with society or the ecosystem,” Lydia explained. “So I chose to do mine on why the eighth amendment should be abolished!”

Barbara and Adam blinked at her proud expression.

 “Reason?” Adam asked.

 “If we don’t have the eighth amendment, then we can torture rapists,” Lydia said confidently.

Barbara and Adam then nodded in agreement.

It had been nine months since the whole incident with the ghosts, and it was honestly some of the best months of Lydia’s entire life. Not only did the Maitlands officially become part of the family, but Beetlejuice stuck around, too, becoming Lydia’s chaotic best friend and older brother figure, at least after being properly “housebroken” as her father would describe it. Waking up each morning always greeted her with new mayhem from one of the otherworldly tenants and more things she could learn about them. It was incredible.

They were a family.

 “It’s really coming down out there.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder to see Delia standing at the back door, sipping a steaming cup of her weird herbal tea (which tasted disgusting, by the way).

 “It’s what you would call ‘Noah’s Arc’,” Barbara said knowingly. Except her ‘knowledgeable’ comment got a weird look from Lydia and a laugh from Adam and Delia.

 “Noah’s Arc was the, well, arc, honey,” Adam said. “Not the storm. But nice try.”

 “It’s so foggy,” Delia commented. “The river may flood at this rate.”

Foggy.

Fog.

That word always sparked a memory in Lydia’s mind.

The Netherworld.

Lydia remembered the Netherworld clearly.

The air there had been wet and heavy, like she was breathing in a thick fog that stuck to her throat like tar. There was a certain sticky humidity in that dark place, pressing down on her in heavy waves, as if the very atmosphere itself was trying to crush her skull, punishing her for even plucking up the courage to step foot in the place where the Living didn’t belong. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time, with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that had settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the Dead’s civilization. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, had brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every Dead making their rounds through their daily lives. And, in reaction to her presence, the gloom tried to wrap its dark protections of the underworld around her in layers that pressed deeply into her skin, trying to become a part of her. It adorned her until she was nearly suffocated in the thick, moist air.

She did not belong there.

The Netherworld had been filled with enough freaks to make a whole circus- a suicidal beauty pageant queen with slashed open wrists, a failed skydiver in a shredded jumpsuit, a lady swathed in a smoldering towel and had hair crackling hair that hugged a toaster to her chest, a charred man who breathed smoke like a great fire dragon, a very confused football player, a man with a huge cleaver lodged in his skull as a sign of his infidelity, a gravely-injured jockey that spit blood when she talked, some kind of hunter with a shrunken head, and a very excitable victim of explosion, among many more that Lydia hadn’t seen. Not that she was surprised at the amount of strange characters in the underworld.

Aside from the beauty pageant queen, the jockey was the Dead that Lydia got to know the most. Even for the short amount of time she was down in the Netherworld , the jockey seemed to grow attached to her, talking to her animatedly as if they had been friends for years and hanging onto her arm like a baby koala would to its mother. She learned that her name was Presley.

And Lydia had to leave Presley behind.

It wasn’t because she wanted to- she had to! Presley said it herself: the living didn’t belong in the Netherworld. But still, it kinda hurt to leave her new friend behind.

But she got over it. And she moved on. And she got a new family that made her completely forget about the undead horse rider.

Lydia’s memories were then interrupted by a terrible crash of thunder that seemed to rip the entire town in half. The sound rang in all of their ears, even causing Lydia to snap her hands up to cover her own, much to her embarrassment, and making Adam phase straight into the drywall of the kitchen in reaction to the shock, and the sonic boom that followed rocked the house from side-to-side.

As the rumble faded and the lights overhead flickered, there was a heavy thud from upstairs.

From Lydia’s room.

Lydia groaned. “That’ll probably be Beej,” She said. “Messing with my stuff. Again. Probably thought the thunder could cover up the sound of him setting some kind of prank.” She turned her head to yell up the staircase as she stood up. “But not this time!”

She heard Barbara, Adam, and Delia laugh as she walked upstairs.

As quietly as possible, Lydia snuck up the stairs and to her bedroom. Inside, she could hear shuffling and a muttering voice.

Someone was in there.

Wanting to scare Beetlejuice for trying to prank her again, she grasped the doorknob, slowly pushed open the door, and peeked in at the demon in her bedroom.

The light from the lamp that she had left on fed into his white and red suit, soaking into the filthy fabric. He kept looking this way and that, the helmet he was wearing shifting against his head, and-- that was not Beetlejuice.

But Lydia did know this person.

White-and-red checkered shirt, white pants, gloves, black riding boots, a helmet with a crack straight down the middle, a crop holstered to narrow hips, old blood and hoofprints all over…

 “Presley?!” Lydia yelped out loud, then quickly shut her mouth. She stepped fully into her room and closed the door behind her. A moment later, the undead jockey was in her arms, clinging to her in a way that felt more like how a drowning woman to cling to the side of a boat than a normal hug between reuniting friends.

Except she didn’t feel undead. She felt warm, solid, real…living.

She was living.

But…that shouldn’t have been possible.

 “Presley…” Lydia said slowly. “How are you here?”

Presley looked up at her, the rim of her helmet sliding into her eyes slightly, then glanced all around. When she turned her head back up to Lydia, she seemed equally as confused. There was a stream of dried blood trickling down between her eyes and on one side of her nose. There was another scoring her right temple.

 “I don’t-- I don’t know,” Presley whispered, and her voice was hoarse and weak. She then sucked in a sharp breath and coughed. Lydia realized this must have been the first time she had breathed in a long while.

 “Well, that’s…confusing…” Lydia said. She batted Presley backwards so she would be away from the door. Presley clung onto her arm with one hand like it was her lifeline. “I thought you were dead? Like, really dead?”

 “Yeah…” Presley shifted. “I would know.”

Lydia laughed slightly. “What happened? How did this happen?”

Presley shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine. I was just sitting in my room, crying, as I usually am, and then I fell asleep and now I’m here!” She looked around. “Nice room, by the way.”

 “Thanks,” Lydia said. She glanced at her door. “Okay, well…” She ran a hand through her hair. “This…will cause some issues.”

 “Oh.”

Presley took a shuffling step backwards and unholstered her crop, which she began to fidget with nervously. Lydia thought it was strange- wasn’t that the thing that basically caused her untimely demise? How could she be comfortable with even having it on her person after that?

 “Sorry…”

 “Hey, it’s not your fault,” Lydia assured her. “How were you supposed to know that you were going to…come back to life?”

 “Heh. Yeah.” Presley smiled slightly at her, which then turned into a grimace of pain. “May I sit down?”

 “Yeah, of course,” Lydia said, and Presley instantly dropped down to her knees. Her breathing came out strained and ragged. “Are you alright?”

Presley gave her a weak smile, and there was blood in her teeth and blood on her lips and blood on her tongue. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be fine.”

 “Are you sure?” Lydia prodded, crouching down in front of her. “You don’t look so good.”

 “Well, you know how I died,” Presley said, sitting up from her hunched position. She pressed a hand against the left side of her ribs, wincing. “Wasn’t exactly very, ahh, pretty…” She swallowed.

 “Your wounds didn’t heal after you came back to life?” Lydia said. “I guess that’s what we’re calling this. But you didn’t get a fresh new start?”

Presley shook her head. She unbuttoned her jockey uniform and opened up one flap, the cloth making a disgusting peeling sound as it detached from her skin, to reveal the dark black abyss that was her trampled chest. Looking at it, even in the lamp’s golden glow, Lydia couldn’t tell where one wound ended and another wound began. They were all- the bruises and the lacerations and the welts and the hoofprints- melted into one big blemish of agony upon the young jockey’s torso. For a moment, Lydia didn’t even see that she had a sports bra on because the fabric (it had been grey, once upon a time) was completely soaked in blood and blending in with the rest of the mess.  

 “Unfortunately, no,” Presley closed her shirt. “I suppose it’s a fair trade. Being brought back for a second chance at life, but I have to live with the effects of how I died in the first one. Actually, that isn’t as fair as I thought. My internal organs had definitely been ruptured when--” She stopped talking and looked down at her stomach grimly.

 “Well, that…sucks,” Lydia said. She glanced at her door again. How was she going to explain this to her family?

 “Lydia!”

And speaking of the devils…

Lydia turned back to Presley. “Ready to meet my family?”

Presley perked up. “Really?”

 “You don’t exactly have anywhere else to go,” Lydia said. “And you’re here, aren’t you? One more supernatural being living in our house won’t hurt!”

Presley tilted her head, and her helmet slumped over on her skull with the movement. “There are others?”

Lydia grinned. “Yep,” She said. “I got pretty much the coolest family.”

 “Lydia!”

 “Coming!” Lydia called back to the voice yelling for her. She looked back at Presley. “I’m going to go talk to them first. I’ll call down for you once they’re ready. Just be cool, okay? They’ll like you.”

At least, she hoped they would. Presley didn’t have anywhere else to go if they didn’t.

Delia, Barbara, Adam, and Charles, who had emerged from his office, were all assembled downstairs, preparing for dinner. Barbara smiled at Lydia when she came down.

 “Did you find BJ?” Barbara asked.

 “How long did it take to dismantle the prank?” Adam asked, sounding amused.

 “What prank?” Beetlejuice materialized beside Charles, nearly making him drop the bowl of spaghetti he had been carrying to the table. He looked at him. “Sorry, Chuck.” He looked back at Lydia. “Now, what about a prank?”

All eyes turned to Lydia, and Lydia couldn’t help but feel like she was being interrogated, which was weird because she hadn’t done anything wrong. The ghost of a jockey who got killed during a race appearing in her bedroom as a living person wasn’t her fault! That was nobody’s fault!

 “It turns out there was no prank,” Lydia said.

 “Then what fell?” Delia asked.

 “Yeah, about that…” Lydia glanced up the staircase. She faintly saw Presley hovering in the hallway. “Remember that one time we went to the Netherworld?”

 “Yes,” Charles said. “It was the worst place ever.”

 “Oh god,” Beetlejuice said. “Is this another lecture? I already said I’m sorry!”

 “No, no, this isn’t about that,” Lydia said quickly. “While I was there, I met this girl. We kinda became friends, but, you know, I had to come back here so I haven’t seen her since.”

 “Where is this going?” Adam asked, looking curious and slightly concerned.

 “What if I told you guys that my friend came back to life somehow and appeared in my bedroom for no real rhyme or reason but now she’s here and has nowhere else to go?”

The house went quiet. Thunder rumbled outside, as if the very universe itself were laughing about the situation.

And then--

 “WHAT?” Adam yelped.

 “That can happen?” Delia said at the same time, looking at Beetlejuice.

 “I guess!” Beetlejuice yelled.

 “Wait, so there’s someone in our house right now?” Charles asked.

 “Surprise!” Lydia said weakly. She looked up the staircase. “You can come down now.”

There was shuffling from upstairs; Presley emerged into the light of the open stairwell and staggered her way down the stairs, each step she took being punctuated by a wince. There were several gasps, mainly from Barbara, Delia, and Adam, as she stopped next to Lydia- not that Lydia blamed her family for their reactions.

Presley looked much, much worse in full lightning. Her skin was no longer pale pink like it had been in the Netherworld, rather just pale, as if all the blood was drained from her body and leaving her as an empty shell. Even her lips were completely leached of color. It was impossible to tell if the dark rings around her eyes were from sleep deprivation or were just shiners caused by her death. Her jockey uniform was slathered in a thick caking of mud--and then Lydia realized most of that was just dried blood. Black hoofprints were stamped up and down her chest, stomach, and legs, and some areas of the fabric were ripped, revealing grimy, bruised, and bloodied flesh underneath. The streams of blood down her face and side of her head were completely dried now, crusted over and flaking off. She was squeezing her crop nervously, bright hazel eyes darting everywhere around the house, but she quickly latched onto Lydia’s arm with one of her hands, holding on tightly, similarly to how she did down in the Netherworld when they first met. 

 “Everyone…” Lydia said to her gaping family. “Meet Presley!”

[hanjisungz]

owl playoffs start today and i am so excited i could Scream

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.

He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror. 

“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”

You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.

‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.

‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.

Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.

‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.

Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.

“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.

“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.

“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.

“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”

“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”

“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.

“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”

The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.

“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

“Two weeks?!” you wailed.

Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”

“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.

“Ace!”

The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.

“That is acceptable.”

Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.

“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”

You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.

“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.  

There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.

“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”

‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’

“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.

Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.

“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”

Your life flashed before your eyes.

“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.

“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”

.

.

The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.

He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.

You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.

He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.

There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.  

“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.

“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”

The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.

However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.

You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…

An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”

He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.  

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.

“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"

.

.

The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.

“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.

He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.

“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”

He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”

“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”

He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.

“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”

He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.

The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.

But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.

“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”

He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.

“You don’t find it pleasing.”

Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—

“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.

“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”

The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.

“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.

Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.

“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.

“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.

You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.

“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”

“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”

You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.