#bam! dragons!

[hitwiththetmnt]

Spitfire sketch dump :>

1) dragons can get zoomies

2) the best place to nap

3) dragon grooming

4) dance party

5) sibling dynamics

6) mirror

[000marie198]

Okay so, the prospect of dragons becoming 'softer' and 'less strong' and 'pet-like' due to living with vikings for a few years is so messed up!

This is partially due to how Toothless was characterized in THW. His character in Httyd 1 & 2 + GotNF +RoB/DoB + RTTE + other short movies is leagues different from THW Toothless. And amongst the common reasons theorized for this is dragons having become 'softer spoiled pets' due to 'being away from the wild'. And I hate it!

These dragons, especially the ones who have riders, are canonically stronger, faster, smarter and stealthier than any wild dragons due to all the experience they gained over the years. The dragons of Berk, particularly the gang's dragons, have travelled tremendous distances in single flights, fought battles with armadas and hunters and submarines and entire flocks and practically giants, been to habitats far and wide where wild ones don't dare venture, been through so much, have had near death experiences countless times and came out of those stronger than before. Heck they've even planned and strategized before! They have sharper instincts, faster reflexes, higher endurance and stamina than the wild ones who live in their own habitats. These guys have experienced and survived going through all kinds of habitats. I really doubt that the gang's dragons, the first and last line of defence, the researcher assists, the protectors and best friends of the most competent group on the island would get soft just like that.

AND! And, each of these dragons, Toothless, Meatlug, Hookfang, Stormfly, Barf and Belch, they were becoming smarter and smarter by the day. Toothless in the first movie was intelligent, curious, kind, stealthy, elegant, scary, dangerous, adorable, protective, strong. And he remained as such throughout the series. Why turn him into a... A senseless dog?! Where did his grace, his speed, his stealth and intelligence and protectiveness and loyalty go? That was NOT Toothless. Why was my boy treated like a silly pet and nothing else? Did they just up and forget everything he did throughout the course of the franchise? Toothless whose first thing to do when he got a controllable tailfin was go out to find Hiccup's lost helmet that fell in the ocean and then he broke that tailfin because he valued and treasured this friendship over potentially distancing freedom, Toothless who had defeated and befriended multiple feral dragons without being able to fly, Toothless who ate an eel to keep his best friend safe, Toothless who played possum to fool the outcast guards and escape on his own, Toothless who was willing to drown because he couldn't leave Hiccup alone, Toothless who broke the most Intense mind control hold of the Bewilderbeast because the bond he had with Hiccup was stronger. Are we talking about the same Toothless even?

Gah, I just despise that last movie for so many reasons. I might've given it grace marks if it was just the theme being sad but everything in it was wrong and messed up and illogical.

[chinelacanta]

dragon x crocodile and trans crocodile make me go insane but i like a very particular, and admittedly insane, flavor of it where you have

trans man crocodile x genderfluid (mostly masc) dragon

both afab

and neither can tell which of them conceived their son. like, they full on forgot what happened in those 9 months- at the end crocodile was like, 'huh i feel like there's smth missing- ah thats my hand nvm'

and dragon just woke up one day with a kid in his arms and was like, 'child acquired? regular tuesday 👍- oh wait this one's mine- oh" and then handed him off to garp because he latched on so quick he would've jumped into the ocean head first if luffy ever insinuated wanting that, rev army be damned

[romancemedia]

Cartoon Romances + Family

[pumpkster]

[valyrianfreehold]

Morning

Oh Miss Mo(u)rning, I had a lot of time to think about this pastel goth while working on her.

The frustrating thing about Morning is she's a bit of a timeline mystery. We know she hatched in late 129AC/early 130AC. We are not given a date for her death or an explanation to what could have possibly happened. All we are told is that the last dragon died in 153AC and the last recorded mention of Morning was in 136AC. So there is a 17 year window and a whole lot of speculation.

After the storming of the Dragonpit in 130AC, there were four dragons left alive. Cannibal had disappeared, Sheepstealer and Nettles had flown off and were last sighted in the Vale, and Silverwing had been left feral in the Reach. If we rely on the word of F&B, we can assume that Silverwing died before 153. Morning was the last healthy dragon to hatch, as there are recordings of several more hatched dragons but all were malformed and small. So bear with me as I jump into personal theories and speculation:

I think Morning was born just before the Dragonpit's destruction. There are plenty of meta theories and in book postulations about dragons and their connection to summer and how when the dragons died, summers became shorter and winters harsher. I think that dragons helped maintain some magical ecosystem and their life cycle relied heavily on the latent magic of the world. Morning was lucky enough to have been born right before the death of the remaining Targaryen controlled dragons and I think she managed to grow and thrive off of whatever magical energy inertia was left from their presence. But, I think in the year of her rider Rhaena's husband's death, Morning's rider's grief- due to the bond of a rider and dragon- kickstarted Morning's decline. She stopped growing, her flames grew weaker, and one day Rhaena discovered Morning dead. I think Morning's death also coincides with reports of Silverwing being found dead in her lair. The last healthy dragons of the world did not go out with a bang but faded like dying embers. Magic began to weaken and the world took a turn for the dormant mundane.

Cruelest application of homophones in all of literary history award goes to GRRM for having Rhaena name her hatchling Morning. Rhaena reflected all her hopes and dreams for a post war future into this hatchling, but the damage had been done and the hope of the coming morning turned into the mourning of a family legacy thrown to the pyre. :)

I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted to go with this design until I found the tidbit that Morning was from the latch clutch of eggs laid by Syrax. So I took some design notes from my Syrax piece, using the basic design of her circlet. Morning has none of the hanging coins that many of the other dragons I've drawn have had to show she never saw violence or combat. She looks wan and a bit gaunt as she's in the last stage of her short life. Her billowing loose fit clothing hides her wasting away. The crescent on her circlet and the blue gems are a nod to her being born in the Eyrie while Rhaena was a ward of Jeyne Arryn.

[zealfruity]

Consider:

Crosshair and his Elite Squad in their ship heading back from a mission.

Crosshair is always in charge of the aux:

CRAAAWLING IIIIN MY SKIIIIN!!!

“Sir, could we change the mus-“

Crosshair turns the volume up.

The next song comes on. It’s Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.

Crosshair is mouthing the lyrics under his helmet. The stormtroopers wonder if this job was just one of the circles of Hell.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Do you do requests? If not u can ignore this. Do u know how people say that a hero would save the world over u, when a villain would save u? That w Hiccup. Like Hiccup having to choose between saving y/n or others and he doesn’t choose y/n and then believes she’s dead. That would be the final straw for her and she would eventually start a relationship w the dragon hunters.

Can u tell I love angst😭

Castoff

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Villain!Reader

Words: 2328

The gentle brush of fingertips as they slip apart, the pounding of blood as his heart falls out of your grasp. Those are feelings you are familiar with. Your relationship is one made up of meanings searched for where they are not, a deep care uprooted by a raging current and a single, meaningful mistake.

Tags: Angst, fem!reader, heartbreak, villain reader, unresolved insecurity, anger, canon divergent, first part?, suggestive content, RTTE, Httyd 2, 'Always the Angel, Never the God' adjacent

Next>

He knew before she did. You knew just as long as him. It wasn’t the kind of thing you or anyone else talked about, really, not to anyone but your parents and your true meant-to-be. But it was there. And you knew for the longest time that they were meant for eachother.

You didn’t know that it would have ever ended. Yet somehow, supposedly, it did. You still felt like an outlier, though. Your heart was his for so long that to see them together felt like a betrayal, and to be with him now felt like a betrayal of that.

You saw the look in his eyes, you watched them treat each other so familiarly, watched the others close in around them, perhaps looking to share in the joyful atmosphere, knowing that should you step into the light, the moment would be ruined.

You stepped away from the half open door, back into the darkness of the cabin, wondering how they could be so happy together even after the raid, a skirmish so tough and violent with some new dragon hunters from outside the area, unlike any of the ones you’d dealt with before. 

There was true love, romantic love and meant-to-be love.

Brown armor, red shirt, green eyes. Hands held gently, preciously out for your own.  

For the longest time, you didn’t have a love, true or meant-to-be. Well, you had a love that was certain to be true, but wrong in that it was made for someone who’d already given his heart to another. A heart that he’d, supposedly, taken back.

Now, you wondered what sort of love he held for you.

You made to reach out, but instead you turned away, missing the look of hurt you knew you would be there. You couldn’t, not with any of the others around. 

You didn’t miss the hushed conversation, carried on just the same as it was earlier but in lower tones, the small looks shared between them, the unsaid idea that maybe you just weren’t right. That you were a bad pair.

You knew what would greet you if you looked back; the hurt in his eyes, the loose brows, the slight disappointed tilt of his lips. 

You furrowed your brows. You let him down again. 

But it didn’t feel right, to love and share love, especially with her so closely there. With the ghost of them ever so present. It filled you with shame.

There was no bitterness held, only guilt born from many nights spent awake condemning yourself for your yearning. It was something you’d long since accepted was meant only for the dark of night, when no one else was awake enough to hear your heart flutter.

You still felt as if he was hers, that you were encroaching on something you weren’t supposed to have. It was a messy situation. They ended amicably, you’d been feeling terribly for a long, long time. You wondered if the feeling, the bone-deep hate for yourself, would ever go away, like you’d dreamed.

You had to stop and wonder when Hiccup the Useless became Hiccup and Useless. 

You buried your head into your knees, tired of staring out over the windy clifftop. No number of waves or gusts of wind could brush away your troubles.

You didn’t even miss Berk. You didn’t have a reason to go, nor one to stay. Just a floater, tethered only just so by the tattered, frayed strings of your own heart.

He was sitting next to you, a silent question on his lips, left unsaid but just as clearly heard.

You couldn’t forget how lonely you were, then and before, after he left you. A friend, somehow still physically so close and yet so far out of your reach. How quickly you were othered, how quickly you were labeled a pitiful tag-on. No amount of love, hidden nor shared, could ever make up for that.

Something tense was in the air between the two of you. You refused to give it a name, though you knew what it was just as well. It felt like the end. It felt like a new, terrible beginning. It felt like the heaviness in your gut and the slight burning of your eyes caused by the thin spray.

 Your touching fingertips became more as you clutched his hand, squeezing it.

You’d always been the confidant. To have the position switched was odd, unfamiliar. Hiccup was gawky and unsure in your boots. To have your troubles laid out between the two of you, of which there were many, disturbed you. The idea felt like a violation. 

So, without the words to speak them, you worked around. You found words you could speak, parts of some that were difficult and some that weren’t and strung them together like the split stems of flowers into a very nearly presentable crown.

You turned to your right, looked at him pleadingly, though you weren’t sure what you were pleading for. Nothing, everything at once, not to leave you behind, not to make you stay.

“Hiccup,” You stared hoarsely, hesitantly. It was silly, it was stupid saying it aloud. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He never would. 

Truly, you had only one question.

“Do you love me?” You asked. He looked confused, startled.

You leaned closer. You couldn’t tell which way he moved, if he moved at all. You imagined he moved away. He waited.

He looked at you expectantly. Unsurely. Why weren’t you moving closer? 

You’d never loved or been loved in any sort of way which mattered. The fact that you hadn’t felt like a burden, somehow just another reason as to why you weren’t deserving. An onerous boon that you just wanted to be rid of.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if you could.

He knew what was supposed to happen next. He’d experienced it; done it and had it done many times over. You hadn’t.

You two hadn’t been that close yet, not at all, not physically. This was not a boundary the two of you had yet crossed. You shared nothing more than a few mumbled words into the neck, a few shared words in your nook, a tight embrace and hands held loosely in the quiet darkness of the night. Promises, dedications. No actions.

The others knew about it, though. They heard the declaration, quiet and uttered as if it was just a casual thing. For him it was. You said nothing.

How could you?

You hesitated, waiting for an answer. Your lips twitched. Your eyes burned, stronger then. You shook your head and dropped his hand, which he let fall to the wayside. Using your hands and the floor, you pushed away.

As always, you couldn’t bear it. He waited for you, just as you didn’t want to be someone to wait for. You wanted to already have it. You wanted back the years you spent wasting away, coveted back the years you spent watching him give what you desperately needed so casually to another.

You stood, then.

It was a surprise when the two of you came together. No one had expected it. It seemed off, out of place. You weren’t sure Hiccup himself had, drifting in the spaces left between after he and her had split paths. 

You turned. You held your elbows and hunched your shoulders, turning your back to him and pushing against the wind, which though was light, felt all of the sudden as if it was way too much.

You weren’t sure he meant it. Whether or not this was real or something he’d just fallen into as per convenience.

 You did. You meant it. He was your true, he was your romantic.

What kind of love do you hold for me?

You knew the answer, plain and simple.

None. None at all.

You stood in the darkness of your cabin. Your windows were blocked, though you didn’t need the light. You’d been in for a while, you were used to it.

You’d exhausted your usual time-taking avenues, left with nothing but maintenance; folding, organizing, sorting. 

It was awkward. Since the clifftop, the two of you were distant. You didn’t avoid each other, but you also didn’t speak. It was a miracle that nothing had happened yet to force the two of you together.

You were beginning to believe that was the end of your relationship. You were having a hard time accepting it, though the feeling was creeping into your heart slowly and you were beginning to feel empty.

You didn’t flinch as the door to your cabin opened, creaking, though you winced as you turned back towards the light, started as he came up, pressing you against the wall.

Your lips met. 

It was not rough, more just so. It unbalanced you all the same.

He was unsure, nervous. Clumsy. But it was strong. But it was meaningful. But you could tell he meant it. 

You molded into his shape just as he molded into yours. Hesitantly, unsurely,  you responded. He was gentle enough to guide you.

Once again, you asked, though not so much in words as actions; Do you love me?

And this time, he responded. Your heart bloomed. Not violently, not roughly, just so, enough for a shining pink petal to crest the green sepal.

Yes. Yes, I do love you.

You were light, you were fervent, you were free. You believed him.

The same hunters from before. The lot of you had gotten captured. You were too distressed to remember if it had been your fault. There were rocks sharpened to a point below you, gray skies and windy, stormy seas rushing tumultuously below.

You were far from the Edge. In unfamiliar territory. Any allies unaware and absent. The dragons, trapped in cages long behind you.

Hunters were sailing away behind you. It was a victory, however it was also one that came with a terrible price. Something had been set off, violently at that, throwing you off the edge of the cliff face, destabilizing the cage held by a chain pinned to the rock above by a thin  steel nail.

“Hiccup,” You pleaded, breathlessly as your body struggled to keep up with your weight, with the rope  and chains tied around your ankle,  “H-elp.”

I need you.

“Just- hold on, the others-” He crouched, glancing frantically between you and the others handing caged off the side. Their chains were thin, yours were thicker though both were just as equally dangerous.

Please, I need you now.

You jerked back as another rope snapped. Unheard by his ears, drowned out by the raucous waves below and by the rattling of empty cages, pushed around in the air. Unseen as his eyes trained on the others. 

Hiccup didn’t see, eyes trained elsewhere. There was no time to waste. After all, if he helped you up, in the time that took, they might fall. They would fall.

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted. Snotlout shouted. You remembered how they looked before you’re been knocked off. Fishlegs panicking, mumbling to himself zealously, distress projected clearly for all to see. Ruffnut and Tuffnut yelled mindlessly into the air, a waning battlecry as the island deteriorated around you

Somehow, in between terror, in between the pain of your ankle as it threatened to snap and the taut muscle of your arms, a grim doom began to worm and thrash and coil in your gut.

“I’m not- I’m not going to make it,” You said desperately, voice crackling, face crunching as tears began to spill over the edge, shoulders straining, holding on just barely. 

 “Please, there’s-Just, cut me loose-” You prayed, to whichever god was out there, he still had his knife. That he had something sharp. You were going to die.

You could tell he was stressed, overwhelmed, just as panicked. He shifted restlessly, stiffly, perhaps a million times in the last minute. Noise built up in his throat as he spoke but you were unable to hear clearly as your ears filled with buzzing. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t hear your own voice, too breathless and strained to make a sound.

You watched his eyes flicker, you saw the soot on his face and each strand of his hair as it waved in great detail, your world slowing down to a halt.

He stopped. You caught his eyes briefly, you saw as an idea formed, as his resolve hardened, and as he made his choice. You knew it would not be one he made for you.

“Hold on!” Hiccup shouted, as the other’s cries grew more intense, ears deaf to your pleas. He pushed away towards the other side of the cliff, running towards the others as their cage dipped once again.

There was a sharp pain in your chest, as if the nails you dug in with so despairingly were instead gripping your lungs, sharp and unforgiving.

Do you love me?

You were going to die.

 You blinked away tears and snot and all the little, tiny shards of your heart that had gotten stuck in your eyes on their way out.

You just had to hold on. You just had to hold on until Hiccup got back.

You shouted something wild, something animal as your fingers gave, numb with cold and sliding loose even as you commanded them to grip tight. You had no way to fight, no thing in which to fight with as your hold weakened on the slippery rock.

Your nails hurt as they worked against rock and loose dirt, fragile roots and falling stones. Your fingers pained as they worked furiously against themselves.

Hiccup left you. He wasn’t going to come back. You were going to die before he came back.

It was like a stake had been shoved into your gut.

Hiccup left you.

You were going to die.

Your vision whited out.

You were going to die.

You couldn't hold on any longer.

You fell.

[wada-kru]

bc i like making lists, here are my top 15 tv shows and no, i'm not including legend of korra with number 11, i hated the ending

[dickytwister]

let those who would destroy us step into the light || [x]

taglist (ask to be added/removed): @paralytic-states @stacispratt @just-in-the-nickleback-of-time @perseus-veil @daydreaming-fanatic @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @socially-awkward-skeleton @shellibisshe @leviiackrman @katsigian @corvosattano

[dragonnnfly]

Correct quote

Stoick: they’re Thunderdrums!😉 toughest dragon in the archipelago😌

Toothless: *growls*😡

Stoick: that’s right!😒 I said it😏

Hiccup: we’ve created a monster😩

[000marie198]

CRYING SOBBING SCREAMING

[romancemedia]

Cartoon Romances + Proposal

[territorial-utopia]

Sleepover

They have separate beds that they do use on their own too, but it’s much more fun to spend late evenings together, especially with a nice glass of sherry (or several-) 

[valyrianfreehold]

i know i have a poll going on who to do next but i already had her 50% done so i do prommy i will do whoever wins (looks like sunfyre so far thats gonna be FUN)

meemaw vhagar was a lot of fun. the only thing that makes her smile anymore is riverlands warcrimes

design notes below cut

i kept to hotd vhagar and the dragon design rules those artists had- dragons do not stop growing (long long hair that goes to the ground) her biggest horns are gone because they simply popped out from excessive bone growth in her skull. the headdress is designed to look like once it was for six great horns but now all she has are these barb growths. the bronze is a nod to her semi canon book design that says she's bronze. the little discs are supposed to represent won battles. the bronze cords are for all the ropes on her saddle in the show. i made dreamfyre dressed in finery because she was never really a dragon used in combat, but instead for flight and leisure (and husband eating) with her riders. vhagar is all about Murder and War so she has a giant gorget and armor reminiscent of byzantine/roman (valyrian) designs.

i actually started with a younger conquest version but it was a lot of fun aging her up to true battle gran gran status

[qvrcll]

Currently imagining Aemond Targaryen in the process of replacing his stitches for the sapphire.

TW: mention of injury, injured flesh, stitches being taken out, kinda sorta angst — Enjoy!

Aemond inspects his stitched-up eye like it was a thing similar to a spectacle. He allows his hands to thread the hot skin beneath the scarring flesh, comparatively cold beyond feeling. It should shock him, send him reeling backwards in the stale oak of his chair, yet, in the twilight of his chambers, it fills him with an unfulfilled memory of a blade, searing hot and dry, a spell to leave him wronged, with the faces of nephews who abhorred him so. The blade swings, gashes, and paints itself with blood as fresh as the red that old Valaryians exuded. The memory eventually rips but it stings. It's inexhaustible.

There is only so much haunting he can endure: his mind buffers when his fingers dig aggressively at the flesh that is sealed. He twists and twists and twists... until the slit comes apart like putty on his fingers, beautifully thawed into a mix between appetite and foolishness. The sense is fleeting when the effects of his action seem gory, almost, but when he opens his hand, a piece of fine thread lays there — cold, flimsy and used. It almost seems misplaced in the rough mould of his hand, so thickly veined in the years. He nearly crumbles from the urge to grab the nearest slab of glass to reflect his ugliness, use his tears to cleanse himself, and prepare to breathe a new man into himself. But he reminds himself that he is no longer a child. Nor is he a man, or beast.

When he tears the slit of his eye open in time, he feels accomplished somehow. Brutal. Forged, finally, by his flesh — his blood fills his hands, raw and red, completely discordant with the sapphire that he picks up with his blood-shot fingers, spinning it around an inch, like a jeweller to his gems. He carefully edges the solid within the depleted hole of his eye socket and when the slick output of his blood slots it into place, he groans deeply with a realisation, a truth, groggily soaking up the spit of his rebirth, which is thick and putrid with offence.

I am Targaryen born.