#Greggle

[runawaycarouselhorse]

Everyone panics about the baby about to be born (hatched?), while my man Greggle (Croagunk) is fascinated with mushrooms.

Satoshi and hikari panicking in sync and turning to each other is so cute, I always loved that about them, cutest besties (and a cute ship, too!)

[elavoria]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged [back] by @sheirukitriesfandom, thanks~

Context: Amaryllia & co. have just left Denerim after their first visit there.

They hadn’t gotten very far along the North Road before they were approached by a templar on horseback on his way into the city—or so Amaryllia had assumed until he was close enough for it to be apparent that he was more intent at staring at her and her companions than paying attention to the road. She might have been alarmed had he not seemed somehow familiar, and although she could have sworn she’d seen him before, she couldn’t quite place his face until—

“You there!” he cried, pointing at her dramatically.

Of course, she thought as they all came to a stop. It was Carroll, from Lake Calenhad’s docks, and as she watched him dismount gracelessly, she wondered how she could have possibly forgotten him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” he continued in a tone that will still far more dramatic than strictly necessary as he rummaged in one of his pouches. “Deliver this letter, Carroll! Go to Redcliffe, Carroll! What do you mean you didn’t find the warden at Redcliffe, Carroll? Go to Denerim, Carroll!”

He simply stared at her when he finished his tirade, prompting her to ask, “You... have a letter for me, ser?”

“Yes,” he said, extending his entire arm to hand it over with a flourish. “Here. One letter from Greggles.”

“From... who, now?” she asked, furrowing her brows as she took the crumpled parchment.

“Greagoir,” he said impatiently. “You know, the knight-commander at Kinloch? You haven’t forgotten about him already, have you? Or can you not hear out of those big ears of yours?”

Tagging whoever wants to share. :3

[depressed-changeling]

You can't hide that in the replies!

do u think the gallow templars ever give meredith a nickname? like kinloch templars call greigor greggles so maybe merry or smth bc she has such a cheery personality

the kinloch templars call greagoir what

[soda-arcade]

a greggling, if you will

[downs1de]

How is Greggles the Gregulator today?

"What the fuck is a 'Gregulator'?"

[cagefreeromanroy]

Good Girls gif meme: @owlishgirl asked “They’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them but I’m not too invested." 

[xamstown]

Random Sketchbook Mystrade #2

Just a casual Mystrade morning

(it's been ages, jesus christ...)

(doughnut boi greggles is my apology for missing rupert's birthday, i'm sorry)

[tedbecca]

i fully do not acknowledge that annie had any romantic relationships bc i hate every single one of them

[vigilskeep]

in the world of thedas 2 theres an intercepted letter it says how carroll refers to greigor as greggles

i love dragon age

[momiwannabeanartist]

02.08.21

Vai via e non riesco a crederci

[wellnesscard]

quitting the stupid millennial restaurant bc they treat their employees like a bunch of tools was so smart because now the insane backwoods boomer restaurant has made me FoH manager and is paying me 11/hour to wait tables 💅💰 boatys getting a brand new floor

[erinsbreakfast]

gregjames17: Radio 1 family coming through for me. I’m a lucky boy to have all this amazing support from all over. 2 things: big Nanna font so I can read the texts on the bike. And also, £127,000 already raised. You’re all amazing. #gregathlon

[poppindawgs]

sure am. the neck scar from the surgery has basically fully healed. got full movement and shit, things are looking up for ol’ greggles. how’re you doing with PT, and stuff?

get those neck gains, man ! seriously, though, you've been doing well ?

[alexanderpearce]

karri may have been born on the birthdate of mark antony and cecil beaton, but georgia @starrry-eyes was born on the day publius clodius pulcher and cecil beaton died

[theredheadinquestion]

Friday I wound up on the boring side of town with an hour to kill. I wandered into a half-stocked craft store and then @mottlemoth's Mystrade stories popped out of the wooden thingie aisle. I took photos. Wanna see?

Behold! Moth's Pirate Mystrade (entitled No Quarter). Remember that one sex scene, ya'll? It's burned in my brain. Anyway, I digress:

Here's her many, many Mystrade stories in which Myke has a townhouse. I could link to each one, but we'd be here all night:

Finally, remember A Man of Honour? The Mystrade stand alone story-within-a-story addendum to East End Boy? Yummm. Greggles is captured and brought to Myke's castle. Things Happen. Because of course they do.

Bonus: the castle opens!! (much like Mycroft's thighs 😊)

Thanks for coming to my wooden toy expo, thanks @mottlemoth for all the burned-into-my-brain stories, and much love to all!! 😘😘😘

[pynkhues]

Hey Sophie,

Are you still planning on posting TFU this weekend? I keep rereading the entire Center & Circumference series.

Hi, anons! None of you are a bother or annoying at all, haha. I'm really sorry I've been a bit hopeless. It's just been another one of those weeks in lockdown (Day 213 here in Melbourne!) where it feels like I'm wading through treacle. It's made editing a bit more challenging than I was hoping, especially after having a great few days last week where I was writing a lot.

Fingers crossed I'll post it really soon (it is close!) but I'm reluctant to give a timeframe now just because I've missed like, every single one I've promised, haha.

I hope maybe this little excerpt helps tide you over?

-

“How’s the ex?”

“A’ight,” Rio replies easily, grabbing a sliver of torn gift wrap off the floor, feeling the smooth surface of it with his thumb, before flopping down onto the other end of the couch. “When you seein’ yours?”

The paper’s somethin’ Elizabeth picked out – a green forest of pine trees and tiny, reflective, gold-foiled stars. She’d bought thick red ribbon to tie around the middles, and dotted the bows on each with glitter glue, a precision and steadiness to her hands that he hadn’t been able to stop starin’ at. It had been important to her, that’s all, that these presents from Santa looked different to the ones from them, and he knew it was less about keepin’ the secret (hell, Kenny and Danny both knew well enough that Santa didn’t so much squeeze down the chimney as stuff stockings between bed times), but more about tryna wield some sort of magic on the day.

The trick not in the deceit, but in the effort.

He twists the paper between his fingers, feels the shiny lick of tape, folded over and stuck back underneath, as Annie hums beside him.

“Mmm, Ben’s doing a whole breakfast thing with him and his grams and pop-pop, so he’s gonna text me after they’ve eaten their body weight in Christmas crepes. Mother Greggles does a whole thing with eggnog and cheese and stuff, not gonna lie, could go for a plate right now.”

She says it like she ain’t just had thirds of Elizabeth’s Festive French toast, shit, she’d practically stolen half the praline off Jane and Emma’s plates. Not that Rio blames her for that exactly – he can still taste the butter, sweetened with cinnamon and brown sugar on the back of his teeth – but it ain’t like there’s any food shortage today. He sucks on his lower lip, the smell of the turkey weeping already through the hall.

Somewhere upstairs, he hears Elizabeth laugh again.

He folds the slip of paper in half, unfolds it.

Rocks his already stiff jaw.

“That work?”

“What?”

“Splittin’ the day with your ex.”

He regrets it as soon as he’s said it – can feel it without lookin’ at her, the way Annie practically fuckin’ levitates with delight at the question, and he casts her a dark look before she gets it in her head that he’s askin’ her for advice, because he ain’t, and Annie quickly holds up her hands in surrender.

The smile don’t dim though.

All fuckin’ teeth.

Wriggling back into the couch cushions, Annie crosses her legs, turns sideways to better face him, and then she shrugs, her fuzzy pink sweater raisin’ with the movement until a thread catches in the jangling end of one of her Christmas tree earrings.

“I mean, it’s always weird knowing your kid doesn’t get to be all yours, but you know that already. You’ve got like – an airport lounge worth of suitcase kids.”

Rio snorts at that, folds the paper diagonally this time, wonders if he trained his ear well enough he might hear Marcus on FaceTime with his mom, but he doubts it somehow. Doubts he can hear anything but fuckin’ Dean, tinny and reedy through Elizabeth’s laptop speakers.

“There are perks though,” Annie adds suddenly, and when he looks over at her, she’s disentangling her earring from her sweater, silver glitter nail polish catchin’ the light, and there must be a look on his face, coz she just laughs.

“Let’s just say Greggles and me had our issues, and grams and pop-pop were two of them.”

She winces suddenly, her lobe pulled, then quickly grins as she gets the earring free, even if a tiny thread of pink cotton now hangs jagged from the end. She flails her now unoccupied hand, and Rio’s briefly distracted by how fuckin’ small it is – then distracted even more by the thought of Elizabeth’s own one, curled around the back of his neck in the brief moments this day had just been for them.

“Never having to like, sit at a table with them again while they tell whoever’s around about how I ruined their son’s life is definitely a perk. They love Ben, but the way they tell it, I got myself pregnant and Greg was going to be a doctor, not a pharma bro. Like he didn’t have to copy Mandy Cohen’s chem homework every week.”

Rio snorts, unfolds the slip of paper.

“But! That’s the point, right? They’re Ben’s family and he should see them, but luckily for me, they’re not mine anymore,” she pauses then, rolls her eyes a little at herself, her tone growin’ an edge as she adds: “If they ever were, I guess.”

He turns her words over in his head, tries to place them, or - - shit. Not place ‘em. Try to place that strange twist in his belly in them, but he can’t. Not when he can hear Kenny’s voice now, sayin’ something about hockey tickets, can hear Jane chime in and then Elizabeth, her voice light in that way he knows she don’t mean, but Dean doesn’t know it. Can’t if the way his nasal laugh echoes is anything to go by, and Rio pulls his gaze from Annie’s newly disgusted face (guess she can hear them too) and back to the tree. The lights are still switched on, twinklin’ a little, but it’s hard to see in the daytime, the room too bright from the winter sun, the air almost white with the dusting of snow outside.

His gaze skirts lower still, and it ain’t like he doesn’t know they’re there, but still – his attention fixes on the presents for Dean, the kids’ messy handwriting scribbled onto tags, and the bows too big because Emma had cut off too much ribbon, and he wets his lips as he moves his focus sideways, sees the present for Judith leaning heavy against the one for his own mother, and it ain’t nothin’.

It ain’t, but shit, he can’t help it.

He crush of wrapping paper into a tight, ugly little ball, and he tosses it, watches it hit the coffee table, roll until it hits the side of Elizabeth’s forgotten coffee mug.

His bruised knuckles throb.