#i give u dragon ;^;

[that-sweet-jester]

Drawing this caused me pain, but what Philza Minecraft wants Philza Minecraft gets.

Request by the streamer himself 👇👇👇, why did i ask ;-;

does this count as sick and eldritch ;-;

[1000dactyls]

Rewatching all HTTYD media and realising Hiccup is one of the best shots of the show like genuinely sticks funeral arrow hitting the target that far away, the fact he shot down toothless in pitch blackness while toothless was completely camouflaged there's some more I'm missing but damn get that kid in the Olympics right this second

imagine how much shorter rtte would’ve been if they gave hiccup a gun

[dipperscavern]

thinkin’ about (fem implied) targaryen!reader introducing cregan to their dragon (silverwing) for the first time

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

though you and cregan had been married for a few moons now, he had always preferred to leave the dragon-taming to you. dragons were formidable beasts, able to wipe out populations with a single breath of fire. truthfully, he had always been weary of them. he preferred for them to stay down south, because capable of a warrior & protector cregan is, there was nothing he could do to tame the temperaments of fire made flesh.

he had no qualms about silverwing specifically — a seemingly calm and gentle beast, who had done cregan the favor of sticking to her cave, unless to hunt or stretch her wings between your visits. while not fully capable of understanding, he thought of the targaryens ancestral connection to their dragons something akin to the starks and their direwolves.

he would watch with bated breaths as you and her took to the skies, becoming one in the art of wings, not words. he would exhale with relief each time you landed unscathed, and waited for you to depart from your dragon before approaching. and thus, you had fallen into routine. cregan stuck to his castle, silverwing stuck to her cave, and that was that.

until you started showing interest in introducing one to the other. the increased mention of your dragon in various conversations, occasionally flying over winterfell itself, when you had not dared such an endeavor before. cregan caught onto your idea long before you actually brought it up, and had been mentally preparing for the conversation he had no doubt would ensue. one fateful night, on the walk to your shared chambers after supper, ensue it did.

“Husband..” you began. “Wife,” was the response you got.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, gaze flickering to cregans face in uncertainty. he hums, waiting for you to continue. “and it would greatly please me to have your company on the morrow. Whilst I see Silverwing.”

cregan keeps his gaze trained ahead, and you can almost see the gears in his head moving. he speaks, tone not with malice — only interrogative. “You would have me face the she-dragon?”

“Not face, my love. Only… greet.” you see the upward tug of cregans lips that tell you he doesn’t think that much of a difference.

you exhale through your nose, a twinge of annoyance seeping through you. though you can’t blame his hesitance (most men cower at the sight of dragons), you can’t help but feel like as he denies silverwing, he denies you. doesn’t he know you are one and the same?

“I only meant,” cregan says, “that dragons are… formidable creatures.” he’s careful with his words, he knows you view silverwing as an extension of yourself. “To displease a dragon is an err only men now with the gods have made.”

“Silverwing is most temperamental, and you would be safe in my company.” you assure, and you truly mean it. on dragonstone, silverwing is regarded as the gentlest of them all. “I only wish as I embrace Northern culture that you familiarize with mine own.”

cregan hums, knowing you have the right of this situation. marriage is about compromise, and you’ve been steadfast in your assimilation of his culture. you were married in the sight of his gods, you moved to his home, left your family… cregan is aware of the sacrifices you’ve made, indeed. he will meet you in the middle.

“On the morrow, then.”

out of his peripheral, he can see the instant smile that spreads on your face. it tugs on his (thought to be cold) heartstrings, and once you stop at the heavy wooden door, you stand on your tip-toes — pressing a kiss to his cheek. he bends to aid you.

it’s safe to say when morn comes, your mood is most chipper.

you and cregan had decided to do your dragon-embracing in the early morning, hours away from meetings or duties, time carved out where you can simply be. be with one another, silverwing, and if cregan is lucky, the gods. you can almost hear the silent prayers echoing from his mind as you make your way up the hill and to your dragons home.

you register the uncertainty in his gaze, and how his eyes flicker around the stone walls of the cavern entrance. you know you ask much, for him to saunter into the dragons den, but you’re grateful for his effort. excitement bubbles in your stomach at the prospect of seeing your dragon, and introducing her to the one you love.

you’ve not gone far in when you decide to halt (for cregans sake), you’re far enough in to be blocked by the wind, but close enough to the exit to soothe cregans nerves. cregans more than happy to allow you to take the lead, paying attention to your every move. you send him a smile, he attempts to return it.

you dislodge from cregans side, stepping forward as to be the first one silverwing sees. you have brought in tow a stranger, after all.

“Naejot Māzīs, Gēltīkun.” come forth, silverwing.

seconds pass, before you hear a low rumbling, accompanied by the sound of rocks moving — and the sound of something moving. something big.

cregan looks around, waiting to see her emerge, but he underestimates the dragons’ ability to cling to the shadows. had it already seen him, before he even knew it was there?

before he can finish his thoughts of curiosity about the stealth of dragons, the head of one slowly reveals itself, moving into the light, and cregan swallows. her gaze flickers to him only briefly, registering him in the least possible amount, before returning to & staying on you. you reach a hand up and out to her, and she lowers her head to you. cregan sees the brief close of her eyes, one touch from you being all it takes. targaryens, he thinks. targaryens indeed.

you step to silverwing, moving to run your hand from her nose up the expanse of her cheek, and cregan sees her lower her head almost fully to the ground. a part of him almost finds it cute. her lips split as a low rumble escapes her mouth, unlike the noises cregan hears her emit when you both are in the skies. even though cregan knows as much about dragons as you do about the witches of asshai, he would venture as far to say it didn’t sound like a displeased growl. more of an unsure-curiosity-filled-question-mark. still, you don’t take any chances.

“Lykirī.” you mutter, be calm. “Ziry iksos daor se qrinuntys, mērī issa valzȳrys.” he is not the enemy, only my husband.

steam blows from her nostrils in an almost sigh, lighter-toned noises echoing from her throat when you finish speaking. she makes you smile, hands still pressed against the hot, scaled skin of the dragon you share a soul with.

cregan knows not what you said in your ancient tongue, but it seems more than efficient in guiding silverwing toward the acceptance of cregans presence. she is cool-tempered, as you said. he remembers what feels like so long ago that he encountered your brother jacaerys’s dragon, vermax. an ill-tempered beast, he was — cregan would say. though he can’t blame it all on vermax entirely, dragons don’t like the cold.

once you’ve roamed your hands across silverwings neck, drinking her in, you beckon him over. “Come, Cregan.”

you could have went to him and came back to silverwing, but truthfully, you challenge him in a silent test of bravery. will he trust you, as you’ve trusted him?

cregans gaze moves from you, to your dragon — where it stays. he’s cautious, but you can’t fault him for that, and he eventually begins to step forward.

silverwing keeps her gaze trained on cregan, keeping herself unusually still as he approaches. you can’t claim to know the heart of a dragon, but your intuition tells you it’s her gentle nature — she doesn’t want to scare him. you amuse yourself with the thought of meleys or vermax in silverwings current place. meleys’ intimidating horns moving as she tilts her head to the side, challenging anyone to step forward (that isn’t rhaenys), or the light snap of vermax’s jaws as he enjoys toying with the man, watching them jump back from the prospect of his teeth.

when he’s a breath away from her, you decide to take pity, and move from silverwings side. now it is you and cregan, looking into her eyes in a silent understanding.

you slide your hand over his own, and move it up to touch her snout. she could pull away, or leave you a widow, but she doesn’t. she even moves a hair forward, nudging herself into cregans hand. the surprise in his face is palpable.

“She’s warm.” he says.

you nod. “In more ways than one, yes.”

you stand there for minutes, cregan lightly stroking silverwing, and her enjoying the attention. only when cregan himself removes his hand do you pull away.

“As much as I have… thoroughly enjoyed this,” he says, looking at silverwing as if she can speak english. “I think I’ve exercised bravery more than enough, this morn. Winterfell awaits.”

you sigh at the prospect of leaving your dragon and facing your duties. “That it does.”

cregan looks at you, secretly admiring your features. it is one thing to cautiously approach a dragon, and make it out alive. it’s another to slide on its back, and a different thing entirely to speak its language. he can’t deny the certain aura he feels, gazing at your silvery-hair, knowing you share the feature with all of your ancestors.

“Will you join me, or should I expect to return alone, cold and wifeless?” he asks, a smirk breaking its way through his usually-hardened exterior in light of his sarcasm. it makes you smile, so it was well worth it.

“Freezing and lonely, for now.” you say, brushing your cloak aside to show him a glint of your riding attire. the sight of it only etched love in cregans pupils as he reaches out for you, and connects his lips to yours. the kiss is briefer than you both would have liked, but duty unfortunately calls. once you break apart, he looks at silverwing, and with a quick nod of his head, turns to exit the den he’s grown to appreciate.

cregans approaching winterfells gates when he hears the whoosh of wings, and looks up just in time to see a familiar pair fly over him & winterfells walls. the men around him duck, your laugh and silverwings screech intertwining into a euphony fit only for the gods to hear — and as cregan watches you dance with the clouds, he remembers the feeling of dragon-scaled warmth under his palm.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[ndostairlyrium]

Wing-it commission for @idolsgf / @blightbear featuring A BABY <3 been fangirling over Bohean for a while, the fact I could draw him sent me over the moon ;u;

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Commissions Price List & TOS

[luxaofhesperides]

Could i request a ghostlight where danny can turn into a dragon, it could be though a curse or just training from queen dora?

Like dragon Danny seeing the yellow signal outfit and thinking "mmmmm gold, shiny, must take".

He should probably be more worried about being cursed.

Scratch that, he should definitely be more worried about being cursed. However, it wasn’t done intentionally or in bad faith. This is just the consequences of him, Sam, and Tucker fucking around and finding out when left unsupervised with the grimoire of a long dead witch.

In their defense, they didn’t know Tucker could use magic. This revelation both upset Tucker, who refused to be swayed from tech, and Sam, who thought she was a better fit for magic considering how goth she is. Danny hadn’t really cared, since he was too busy being turned into a dragon. At least it isn’t like with Dora’s necklace; Danny is still himself, can think clearly, and isn’t overcome by rage. 

He’s just… Danny. But as a dragon.

“Well, you do something to fix him then!” Tucker shouts, waving a hand in the air angrily, “Since you want to be so good at magic, you do it then!”

“I would if I could! But you’re the one who gets to use magic, so figure it out and turn Danny back!” Sam shouts back, getting in Tucker’s face with a fierce scowl.

Danny sighs, shifting uncomfortably. His room is not big enough for a dragon, and his back is starting to cramp up. He looks longingly out the window to the clear skies that call to him, and wonders when his friends will stop fighting. 

They keep shouting, so he doubts they’ll be able to focus on actually helping him for at least another hour.

The only silver lining about the situation is that Jazz and his parents are gone, taking the weekend to visit a few colleges so Jazz can decide which one she wants to go to. Though he’s been cursed into dragon form and his friends are yelling about it, at least his family can’t make it any worse with their attempts to ‘fix’ things. 

There’s a lull in the yelling, Sam and Tucker both turning their attention back to the grimoire. Danny shifts his wings, tail flicking slightly, and leans his head closer. He wishes he could help figure this out, but he can’t talk in this form, and any attempt at charades will destroy his room. 

His friends look focused, at least. So maybe they’ve decided to focus on finding solutions instead of fighting. 

“Here,” Sam says, shoving the grimoire over to Tucker roughly. “Try that.”

Tucker reads over the spell, then scoffs and pushes the grimoire back. “That’s not going to fix anything. Didn’t you read it? It clearly says truth is the greatest revenge, revealing one’s true form force it into light. It’s talking about making people who are secretly cruel turn ugly or something like that! It’s not going to do anything for Danny!”

“It says one’s true form and Danny’s is a human! That would work!”

And they go right back to arguing.

Danny sighs, turning to stare out the window again.

In any other circumstance, being a dragon would be so fun. He has wings! He’s big and has claws and can probably breathe fire! And it’s not making him act on animal instincts or anything! If he could just be outside…

He glances at Sam and Tucker again. 

Maybe he can go outside, enjoy the curse a bit before they figure out a way to undo it. Spend some time flying around with wings. 

All the curse did was turn him into a dragon. It just changed his form. If he still has his ghost powers, if the curse didn’t change his nature from halfa to dragon…

Carefully, Danny focuses on his tail and tries to make it intangible. There’s a strange sensation of ice running down his spine, then it goes into his tail. In the next second, his tail drops through the floor, and Danny bites down a grin. 

He is so out of here. 

He gives Sam and Tucker another glance; they’ve got their heads bent over the grimoire, paying no attention to him. 

Perfect.

Danny goes fully intangible and sinks through the floor of his bedroom, then maneuvers his way outside the house. As soon as he’s out, standing beneath the sunlight and able to stretch out his new body, Danny pulls his power back and takes a few careful steps on the grass, testing his balance. His wings shift on his back, and he stretches them out, feeling the way his new limbs move.

Everything feels natural, as if he’s always been a dragon.

Taking a deep breath, Danny spreads his wings out and takes off running. A few hard pumps of his wings gets him into the air, and he can’t help but let out a joyful roar. 

Distantly, he hears Tucker and Sam yelling again, but he’s too happy to be free of that room to care. Let them argue. He wants to have fun.

Staying in Amity Park is a no go; Val might go after him, thinking he’s a threat, and ghosts could pop out at any time to cause problems. He might as well take this chance to fly around wherever he wants. Chicago wouldn’t be too hard to reach with how fast he’s flying, but he’s been there before and doesn’t want to stay in Illinois. 

What other big city is nearby that he can fly to?

New York?

Or, better yet, Gotham. 

It’s definitely a bad idea, but if any city is able to handle a dragon appearing without warning, it would be Gotham. Plus, he might get to see some of the heroes in action! Sure, it’s the middle of the day, but surely a dragon is a good enough reason for Batman to show up before the sun sets. 

Mind made up, Danny flies up into the clouds and heads towards Gotham, following the roads out of Amity Park. 

The flight is quick. It takes barely over an hour to see the dark figures of Gotham’s tallest buildings, fog surrounding the city like something out of a horror movie. The sun glints off the ocean behind the city for a rare, cloudless day. He’s heard stories about Gotham’s weather, how dreary it is, the occasional acid rain, the gloominess of it all. As bad as his luck is, it seems that the sunny day is trying to give him something good to even it out after being cursed into a dragon.

Excited, Danny angles himself down, diving out of the lower clouds and shifts his wings to catch on a wind current that smoothly sends him towards the city.

Just to be careful, he goes invisible as he gets closer, staying out of sight once he enters the city proper. 

Noise overwhelms him immediately, cars honking and voices yelling, the occasional gunshot and sound of something breaking. It makes Danny wince, disoriented enough to make him falter as he flies above the streets.

Amity Park is quiet and peaceful in comparison, so much so that he hadn’t realized just how enhanced his senses had become in a dragon’s form. 

The sounds of everything are so much, and all the movement of such a big city is dizzying. At least he can’t smell anything but salt from the sea; if he had to deal with the constant smell of blood, guts, and sewage, he would find a way to fully die to get away from it.

He slows down to a smooth glide, weaving his way between buildings as he takes in the city. Even with the sun out, it’s gloomy, the tall buildings casting shadows across the streets, a mix of art deco and gothic architecture filling up the space. He wonders if he should find some place up high he can rest, maybe bathe in the sun for a bit until he felt like moving again. If he managed to fall asleep, that might give Sam and Tucker enough time to figure out how to undo the curse.

“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”

Or he indulge in his curiosity and check up on whoever just cursed loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of Gotham.

It takes a minute of searching before Danny’s eyes zero in on a bright flash of yellow moving across rooftops. 

All other colors seem dull in comparison, and Danny has just enough time to think, Oh, there’s the dragon instincts taking over, before he’s flying after it, unable to focus on anything else.

Every time the yellow leaps out of the shadows, it’s as if it glows. As if Danny’s chasing sunlight. 

He gets close, but loses the yellow every so often with how he has to maneuver around buildings, putting his new flying abilities to the test in an effort to keep up.

Then the yellow comes to an abrupt stop. Danny can’t stop in time and flies past it, tilting his body and spreading out his wides as far as he can to make a tight turn. 

“I’m fine, just bruised up, but I feel like I’m being followed,” the yellow says to no one. There’s a pause, and then the yellow says, “I don’t see anything, is the thing.”

If the yellow has anything more to say, it doesn’t get the chance to do more than open its mouth before Danny’s crashing into it, tackling it to the ground. 

He’s elated as they roll across the roof, the living sunlight caught safe in his arms. He holds it close to his chest, protecting it until they come to a stop, dropping his invisibility as a low rumble builds in the back of his throat. The dragon brain has thoroughly taken over, and it takes far too long to wrestle control back from it.

Once he’s able to think more clearly, Danny looks down at the poor guy he’s caught and realizes, hey that’s a hero!

And then he realizes, that’s a hero. I fucked up.

He tries to say sorry, but all that comes out is a low chuff. The hero, who he can recognize as the Signal because who else wears mostly yellow in Gotham, leans back as much as he can, trapped in Danny’s grasp.

“Hey, dragon,” Signal says nervously. “I’m really hoping you didn’t catch me because you were looking for a snack.”

Danny huffs, bumping his head against Signal’s chest. He hopes he doesn’t come across as aggressive, because all he wants to do is laze around with a hero, his dragon brain happy to keep hold of its yellow sunshine.

He’s not going to let go of Signal, though. He intends to make the most of this moment while he can.

“Okay. You seem friendly? That’s good I guess.” Signal sighs, then tries to wiggle out of Danny’s grip. Danny doesn’t budge until Signal gasps and curls into himself, clearly in pain.

Worried, Danny lets go of him and tries to see what’s wrong, his snout poking against the Signal’s ribs.

The Signal hisses out a breath, trying to push Danny away. “Stop, don’t do that. Man, I hope my ribs aren’t broken. That would suck.”

That would suck. Rib injuries are the worst, and the bruises always seem to stay longer on ribs than anywhere else, in Danny’s experience. He would love to offer the Signal some ice, but as a dragon, he’s not sure how to use that particular power. He settles instead for backing off and making himself small, offering an apologetic rumble.

“Thanks,” Signal smiles, gingerly uncurling from where he’s hunched over, an arm crossing his stomach, protecting it. “I guess you’re friendly, then?”

Danny nods.

“...And you can understand me?”

Danny nods harder, a high pitched growl slipping out of his mouth. 

“That’s so cool. What are you doing here in Gotham?”

It’s not a yes or no question, so Danny’s stuck on how to answer when words are so far out of reach. He shrugs, wings shifting against his back, then carefully bumps his head against the Signal’s helmet. 

“Yeah, that was a bad question. Do you need help?”

Danny scrunches up his nose as he thinks. He is cursed, but so far, being a dragon isn’t all that bad. It sucks that he can’t talk, but everything else is cool! He just doesn’t want to be a dragon forever. But it’s nothing the Signal can help with, so Danny just shrugs again.

The Signal tilts his head. “Alright. I guess I’ll get going then, and you can chill up here.”

The low growl comes suddenly, without him even thinking, and Danny wraps himself around the hero again. Distantly, he thinks that he should stop, that this is technically holding the Signal in place against his will, but the much louder, dragon part of him is deeply upset by the thought of the Signal leaving while he’s injured. Danny can protect him, so there’s no need for him to go anywhere! In fact, he’s only safe as long as he’s with Danny!

He leans more of his weight onto the Signal until they both fall back onto the roof, pinning the hero in place. 

Danny tries to be gentle, but the impact still makes Signal groan, tensing up in pain.

Sorry, he tries to say, the words coming out in a low chuffing noise. He draws his tail up to curl around the Signal so he’s completely surrounded by Danny, kept safe from anything that would try to attack him. 

Letting out a breath, the Signal lightly knocks his head against Danny’s neck, the helmet barely felt through Danny’s scales. “Alright, Oracle, can you send someone to my location? I’m a bit stuck.”

It’s hard to hear, but Danny manages to make out a voice saying, “Black Bat is heading there now. What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit stuck.”

“Injured?”

“Just my ribs, but that’s not really the problem. There’s a dragon who’s very determined to keep me on this roof.”

“A dragon,” the voice repeats. 

“Yeah. It seems to like me? But it’s also not letting me leave. So. I’m stuck.”

There’s a pause, then a soft burst of static before the voice says, “I’m going to send a message to everyone else just in case they’re able to provide any back up. I’m sure Tim is looking for an excuse to ditch Bruce at that accounting meeting.”

“Guess I’ll just wait to be rescued, then,” Signal says, sighing. Then he tilts his head up to look at Danny. “Is there some way you could talk to me? To pass the time. Maybe morse code? Do you know what that is?”

Dragon brain makes him stupid, apparently, because Danny does know morse code. He didn’t even think of alternative ways of communication once he discovered talking was impossible with his new vocal chords. 

It’s probably not even dragon brain. It’s just Danny brain that makes him like this.

Embarrassed, Danny drops his head onto the roof, drawing his tail closer to himself so it can cover his eyes, his best attempt at hiding his face. Then, with one sharp claw, he taps out Y.E.S.

“Oh! So, what’s up?”

N.O.T. D.RA.G.O.N. H.U.M.A.N. G.O.T. C.U.R.S.E.D.

“Why did you say you didn’t need help if you got cursed?!”

Danny wants to say it was an accident, but has no confidence that he can spell ‘accident’ correctly, so he goes with F.R.I.E.N.D. M.A.D.E. M.I.S.T.A.K.E.

“And can they fix it?”

I.D.K. T.H.E.Y. W.E.R.E. F.I.G.H.T.I.N.G. Danny huffs out a breath, flicking his tail in annoyance as he uncurls slightly, giving Signal some more breathing space. He doesn’t look as stressed out anymore, which is nice, but he still holds his ribs tenderly, careful not to move too much. G.O.T. B.O.R.E.D. L.E.F.T.

The Signal taps his own fingers against the roof, thinking after he takes in Danny’s words. “Do you think we can call them and see if they know how to fix it? I doubt you want to be a dragon forever.”

N.O. P.H.O.N.E.

“It’s cool, we can use mine.” And he pulls out a cell phone from… somewhere. Danny has no idea where. It’s like he blinked, and a phone suddenly appeared. His hero suit probably has a lot of hidden compartments and pockets to hold as much stuff as possible, but it’s so well designed that Danny can’t begin to think of where he’d put anything. Especially when his dragon brain keeps getting distracted by how nice the yellow is.

Danny taps out Tucker’s number when Signal asks for it, watching as the call connects and is put on speaker.

“Hello?” Tucker’s voice says, hesitant and a little distracted.

“Hi,” Signal responds with a mischievous smile, “Do you happen to be missing a dragon? Cause I’ve got one here who’s hoping he can get a little help from a friend.”

Danny hears something clatter on Tucker’s end, then Tucker starts yelling for Sam. He’s not quite able to bite back his laughter, entire body shaking with it. The Signal keeps his composure better, but he does share a glance with Danny that has him biting his lip, trying to keep his smile from growing.

“Where is he?!” Tucker demands, and for a moment Danny feels ashamed of how much stress he’s putting his best friends through. And then he remembers them fighting nonstop while ignoring him and doesn’t feel bad at all.

“Gotham.”

“...Gotham,” Sam repeats. Her voice is flat in the way it always gets before she verbally (and sometimes physically) tears someone apart. Danny winces hard enough that it jostles the Signal, making him glance back at Danny.

“Yeah. Gotham. He said he was cursed?”

Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not my fault. It is Tucker’s fault, though.”

“I think I found the solution though! And also, it was an accident. You were the one who wanted to read the grimoire.”

He can tell they’re gearing up for another fight, so Danny lowers his face closer to the phone and lets loose a dark growl. It shuts them right up, and he briefly wonders about learning how to growl like that as a human, since it’s so effective.

Tucker clears his throat, and continues as if nothing happened. “Anyways. The cure. The thing that will make Danny stop being cursed.”

There’s another long pause.

“The cure…?” Signal prompts.

“Kisses.”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s kisses.”

“Like… true love’s kiss?”

Danny hopes it’s not true love’s kiss. If it is, he’s never going to be human again. Who would his true love even be? As much as he liked Valerie, that ships sailed long ago. And he loves Sam and Tucker, but not quite like that. 

“No. Thankfully,” Sam says. “Just kisses. What matters is the amount, not the person it’s from. So whoever you are, we’re gonna need you to be giving Danny as many kisses as possible until he’s human again. We’re also on our way to Gotham now. Johnny’s offered us a ride.”

On cue, an engine revs loudly. 

“We’ll be there soon!” Tucker shouts over the engine, and the call ends just a second later. 

Danny huffs, shaking his head lightly.

“Interesting friends you got there,” Signal comments idly.

Y.E.S. Danny taps out. L.O.V.E. T.H.E.M.

The Signal sits up and moves away from Danny, who has to stomp down the urge to curl around the hero tighter to keep him in place. He stands up, putting his phone away, and looks over Danny. His gaze feels like a physical weight, moving from his face, and the horns on his head, to the scales covering him, to his wings and tail.

His tails flicks back and forth nervously. Danny can’t get it to stop.

“Dragon,” someone new says, startling Danny. He spots the newcomer immediately, a lithe figure in all black perched on the ledge of the roof. Her voice is rough and he can’t see her face at all, fully covered as it is in her mask.

This must be Black Bat. He doesn’t know much about her; no one does, with how she’s managed to avoid being photographed and how rarely she is seen by anyone at all. He honestly wasn’t sure if she was real or not, but here she is.

“Hey,” Signal greets easily, “We need to kiss him better.” 

Black Bat tilts her head. “Kiss… dragon?”

“He’s cursed. And kisses will fix him. Not true love’s kiss, but just a lot of kisses.”

“True love’s kiss?” she repeats.

“Oh, shit. I guess you haven’t read any fairy tales?” Black Bat shakes her head, and Danny wonders how she’s managed to avoid all fairy tales for so long. They’re usually among the first stories children are exposed to. “Yeah, in a lot of those stories, a curse can only be broken from a kiss by someone by love.”

Black Bat nods slowly, and it’s clear she doesn’t really understand, but she does hop off the ledge and walk over to Danny. She pulls up her mask to reveal her mouth, then looks to the Signal for guidance.

“Like this,” Signal says, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to Danny’s cheek.

If he were human, Danny would be blushing madly. As it is, he has to force himself to stay still and not hide his face in his hands, claws and all, from how flustered he is.

Black Bat follows in suit, dropping a delicate kiss to the top of his head. 

Danny loses track of how many kisses he gets, all over his face, beyond flustered by the amount of affection two heroes are showering him in. It’s just to break the curse, but it’s still a lot of kisses! 

Signal kisses the tip of his nose, and there’s a flash of light. Danny feels himself change, growing smaller, his human softness returning to him. It’s barely a few seconds, and then Danny’s human again, sitting on the roof with the Signal and Black Bat standing over him.

They blink at each other for a long moment, then Black Bat smiles and pats the top of his head. 

Danny smiles. He knows his cheeks are red, can feel how hot they are himself, and ducks his head, too embarrassed to look at either of them.

“How are you feeling?” Signal asks, crouching down to be eye level with Danny.

He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a hoarse rasp. He winces and brings a hand up to his throat, then shrugs and gives the Signal a thumbs up.

He clears his throat. This time, he manages to whisper, “Thank you.”

Black Bat gives him a cheerful wave, then hops back onto the ledge and jumps off. Signal barely takes his eyes off Danny enough to give her a nod goodbye. He reaches out and brushes Danny’s hair off his forehead some before his fingers trail down the side of his face. 

“I’ll admit, you looked cool as a dragon,” Signal says, “But you’re much cuter like this.”

Danny gives in and hides his face in his hands. The Signal laughs, warm and bright, and kisses his forehead. 

“Come on, let’s make sure your friends can find you.”

“They’re going to be so annoying about this,” Danny mutters.

“It’s how friends show affection.”

“Seriously, though, thank you. I know being tackled by a dragon isn’t what anyone expects. Did I hurt you? Your ribs…”

The Signal shrugs. “Nah. I’m all good. Just a little bruised, but it’ll heal quickly enough. Though, you’re more than welcome to give me a kiss to help me feel better.”

Danny shoves him lightly for the teasing, but he does pull the Signal back for a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It’s only fair, after all.

[tategaminu]

Man has been obsessed since season 1

[nyaskitten]

Autism art.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[chalkrub]

return of mendel

[casukaga]

new character that’s been taking up my brain lately!! thinking about mave a lot…

— my dnd oc, maverick “mave” (they/she/xe)

🌟 Instagram | Twitter | Youtube | Ko-fi 🌟

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 265

You know what would be a really fun thing? 

The Ennead, nine beings merged into giant Duck-You dragon, have ended up in a different world. How? Good question! Portal incident? Reality bending? Quirk incident? Wait, what’s a quirk? Hm. Not important surely. 

Because they might have gotten used to the fact that they, despite being a giant hydra that towers over skyscrapers, weren’t exactly noticed in their world. They lived in a city yeah, but Amity was used to their presence, y’know? And it was pretty out of the way of other cities too. 

This world? 

That Weird Thing in the Sky had been making people call heroes and authorities even before a Giant Beast ended up falling through. A giant kaiju-esque creature who flew around several cities before disappearing. 

And then it reappeared! And disappeared- and it’s back again! Someone call the heroes- no not those ones, the ones that you call when you don’t know what’s happening. Someone call the Smart ones! The ones you would get together if it was the End of the World scenario! Yes, those ones! 

People need Answers, people are panicking, what the fuck is this thing, huh? 

….

A dragon. That thing is not a Dragon! They have dragon-themed heroes! That thing is horrifying and could crush a city if it landed! Someone call the even Smarter heroes! Wait, wait not that one- 

[vaguely-concerned]

Merrill banters I am thinking about all the time always 24/7

merrill truly will incessantly worry she's stupid and missing the point all the time and then take you out with the most beautifully worded and compassionate breakdown of the thematic spine of DA2 you've ever heard. no actually daisy I think you're the only one getting the point here slowly but surely

especially this one, actually: (also why I could see how bioware would bring merrill into DA:D on solas' side, but also I really really don't want them to because her arc is just -- it's just incredible and I don't want them to mess with it lol)

'I don't think people are cleansed by fire'. people make mistakes and you have to believe in them anyway. yeah basically that's the thesis of dragon age huh

[dipperscavern]

reading the father cregan most has made me feel things ?? my womb is empty ?? and waiting for cregan ??

ALSO KISSES i will always read your tags. they are the favorite parts of my day, in addition to when you post. notifications stay ON.

climbing up the walls with more thoughts of father cregan 🤠 (gods be fucking good, this does sound like a convent. hi sisters!) 🛐

i digress. as we have well established, cregan is a lovely father. he's patient. he's a leader. and he's got that stark loyalty and determination to protect what he loves. which is you and your little pups. (ur so right. he only refers to them as pups.)

i imagine that when your water breaks, you are squeezing this man's hand to the point of bone breakage. pleading with him not to leave. so when the maesters come in and settle you, they look at cregan, expecting him to leave the room - per tradition. one of them, maybe the youngest, starts speaking. "lord stark-" and cregan shuts that shit DOWN ☝️ "your lady stark does not wish it." and everyone knows to shut up and listen when it comes to lord and lady stark.

he is absolutely the type of lad to pick your kids pups up as they climb all over him. once in a post, you described his back as burly enough to sled on and your kids are determined to test that. HELP CAN we actually picture cregan's velocity sliding down a hill like 😐 while his kids are giggling, sliding on his back. hi! hello!

he tells your kids stories of the north in that rugged god-sent accent as he tucks them in for bed. will probably sneak out with them in the night to go get lemoncakes from the kitchen. he gives them cute little fur cloaks to wear, with the house stark embroidery. THIS IS SO CUTE I AM GOING TO SOB

holds them during his meetings. could literally be planning to go to battle or smth, and one of his kids comes in. he just puts them on his lap before continuing with battle strategy. he was just meant to be a dad. he's so giddy about it. so in love with you, and grateful that you gave him this. you gave him chubby little pups running around the castle, hands up in the air reaching for you both. he just wants more :((( crawling at your feet, in your arms, and more in your belly.

i fear i'm going to crash out if i continue. (will definitely be continuing with more asks later. ✊️)

-🔄❄️

REVERSE ELSA ANON HERE TO GRACE US ALL AGAIN !!! yes pls continue later arF ARF ARR ARF

u read my tags….. stop ily. notifications on too i am truly honored. ANYWAYS… SISTERS SISTERS GATHER ROUND. GATHER ROUND FOR FATHER CREGAN

you are so right btw. because when your water breaks, that’s when it all becomes real to you. yes, you want this babe out, but birth is a scary, painful thing. hearing the stories of men choosing to save the babe instead of the mother (i glance to viserys), or of men being done with their wives after they do their duty has only heightened your worry in having to go through it. cregan would never do that to you, you know this, but the thought is a scary one, and it lingers nonetheless. it doesn’t help that the rational side of your brain isn’t in charge right now. you’re afraid.

so when cregan goes to leave and fetch the maesters, you, not usually one to make demands — find yourself almost yelling one.

you both stand rooted to your spots, looking at the fluid on the floor. he was trying to help you into bed, but apparently your pup had other plans. you’re momentarily paused, cregans arm around your waist, hand enclosed in yours while facing the bed. shock hangs in the air as both you realize what this implies. he moves to remove himself from you.

“I will fetch the—“

“No!”

your tone of voice stops cregan in his tracks. has his brows pinching not in their usual hardness, but concern. he had hardly begun to turn away before you reached for him. he tilts his head to look at you, your own dropped down, gaze fixed on the floor. you look at him, a mix of so many emotions on your face cregan could not begin to name them all. you have a hand over your stomach, the other firmly clasped over his arm.

“Do not go. Please, Cregan. I’m afraid.” he’s never heard you like this before. fearful. you mistake his worry for refusal.

“Please— I ask this of you—“

“You need only ask once.” he reassures.

you sigh, relief flooding your veins at cregan heeding your request. it’s tradition for the husband to remain outside of the birth room, but you’re not sure you can do it without him. cregan only pulls you closer, shouting the name of your sworn sword that has been made to accompany you everywhere since the late terms of your pregnancy. the knights response is instant, opening the door with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“My Lord.”

“Fetch the maesters, Ser. The babe is coming.”

the knight only hesitates with shock, before bowing with the ghost of a smile on his face and running to do as commanded. the entire castle has been waiting on your pups arrival, you both included.

eventually, the maesters arrive — and in tow with them, an army of midwives and your usual ladies in waiting. cregan stands at the foot of the bed, far enough to be out of the way, but close enough to be at your beck and call. they’re attentive, maesters setting up their various herbs & medicines as your ladies in waiting prepare the room itself, your midwives attuned to your every move.

one of the youngest maesters, new in his craft, looks at cregans unwavering form with hesitation. he swallows, and begins to speak before one of the elder maesters can stop him.

“My Lord, it is tradition—“

“Your Lady Stark does not wish it,” he says, looking at the young maester. “So it shall not be.”

the man only nods, returning to his work with his head low. the other people in the room, who have served under cregan for years, know when lord & lady stark come out to quiet themselves & get to work.

the labor is long, and the birth difficult, but cregan is there every step of the way. eventually, hours upon hours later, your pup enters the world — kicking and screaming.

“A boy, Lord Stark!”

cregans heart skips a beat. a boy. an heir.

before you know it you have three. two boys, and one girl. cregan melts into the father role like he was made for it, and every time you get the gift of watching him interact with your kids, you get more and more convinced it is so.

watching them hang off his back, giggles falling from their lips, stretched in a wide smile as his much larger arms come to support under their legs. the view of it from behind makes you laugh, each & every time. cregans back almost swallows your kids whole, their tiny frames dwarfed in comparison. even so, he handles them with a gentleness most wouldn’t expect from the wolf of the north. alike to how you might handle a butterfly landing on your fingertip, or the delicacy used to handle newborn foals.

cregan verses them in the culture of the north, along with its stories. tales of vampire direwolves, the old gods & weirwood trees, and the stories cregan himself was told as a child. he’s careful to not scare them too much, but sometimes, other people can get carried away. a guard or one of the men on his council letting a frightening tale about the others slip, resulting in them asking to sleep with you and cregan for the night. of course, you oblige every time, generous in your reassurances that the others are no match for Ice — or for their father.

your daughter has him wrapped around her finger. pleas of staying up just a little longer, or riding just down that trail are almost always obliged. he can’t help it, when she looks up at him with those big pleading eyes of hers — the ones that are akin to yours. asking him sweetly if they could please check for any leftover lemon cakes. it’s late, she should be asleep, but cregan can’t help himself. opening the door in a way so it won’t creak, hushing her giggles and buying the cooks silence as they get a late night snack.

and yeah, when one of his pups stumble into the council meeting, he doesn’t turn them away. he picks them up to slot them on his lap, and the stern look on his face is all they need to see to know to be quiet if they want to stay. he could be planning anything — from a hunt, to going to the winter town himself to take care of a group of men intent on causing havoc. it could lead to bloodshed, but your kids don’t seem to hear that part, just content being with their father.

cregan wouldn’t trade this life for anything. he loves his pups, and he’s so in love with you. passing by each other during the day, and cregan always stops you, pulling you to him to slot his lips against yours — no matter how busy he is. he can’t help it, you’re just so lovely, and you’ve given him so much. he thinks of you every time he looks at your pups, and he feels his heart skip a beat in his chest. seeing your pups throw snowballs at each other, and he can’t resist, pulling you close & bending to connect your lips with his. you melt into him every time.

[nombitenary]

hyena dragon. like this. (WIP)

[starcrashedsatellite]

[choccy-milky]

bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below

so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"

BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.

and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺