#SO SEAHORSE SHAPED!

[karjalantroll]

cute little fella :]

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

the snoorfer

I just don’t get it. How can our society act so goddamned normal about seahorses. How can anybody so casually accept that that’s a fish???

This is one of nature’s most anatomically perverse of all beasts. A FISH, like a carp or a bass or a beta is a fish, but it bent its body straight up only to bend its head permanently back down. It stretched its skull into a pipe. It tapered its tail like a lizard, specifically like a chameleon. It can also move its eyes independently by the way, you know, like a chameleon. Fun fact, it can change color to express its mood, like you know whatever does that. It doesn’t properly swim anymore. It buzzes its few remaining fins like an insect’s wings to float itself around at a snail’s pace. It lives its whole life clinging to coral branches or seaweed, which means it decided to become a “tree dweller” in an environment where gravity didn’t even matter anyway. The males get pregnant. They make noises at each other by rubbing some of their neck bones together. Every day, EVERY DAY a mated pair does a little dance and a little neck bone song so they remember which two seahorses they were. They’re a beautiful precious obscenity. Nothing so adorable ever made such a strong case against a logical creator.

They have as little skin and meat as they could get away with. Their skeleton is almost all they are.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Chordata - Actinopterygii

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Over 50% of chordate species are Actinopterygians (“Ray-finned Fishes”). There are over 30,000 species, comprised of the Polypteriformes (“Bichirs” and “Reedfish”), Acipenseriformes (“Sturgeons” and “Paddlefish”), Amiiformes (“Bowfins”), Lepisosteiformes (“Gar”), and the Teleosts (about 40 orders containing all rest of the actinopterygians).

Ray-finned Fishes are so called because of their lightly built fins made of skin webbings supported by thin bony spines. Actinopterygians are unique for their swim bladder, an organ that allows them to adjust their buoyancy. They are the most abundant free-swimming aquatic animals and can be found almost anywhere there is water. They come in a vast majority of sizes, shapes, scale-types, fin-arrangements, colors, and behaviors, from the 8 mm (0.3 in) long Paedocypris to the 11 m (36 ft) long Giant Oarfish (Regalecus glesne) to the 2,744 kg (6,049 lb) Giant Sunfish (Mola alexandrini). They have feeding strategies ranging from predatory to grazing to filter-feeding.

In most actinopterygians, males and females exist and reproduce through external fertilization. However, some species utilize sequential hermaphroditism, in which they start life as females and convert to males at some point. In a few species, they start life as males and convert to females. Some species give live birth, and some species self-fertilise. Some abandon their young, while some practice maternal and/or even paternal care.

The earliest known actinopterygian is Andreolepis hedei, from the Late Silurian. The teleosts in particular diversified wildly during the Mesozoic, resulting in the high diversity of shapes we see today. The earliest fossil relatives of modern teleosts, (Prohalecites and Pholidophorus), are from the Triassic period, though it is suspected that teleosts originated already during the Paleozoic Era.

Propaganda under the cut:

Many Actinopterygians, especially those that live in the deep sea, are bioluminescent, glowing in a variety of colors and patterns to attract prey, mates, or even just communicate.

Some species of Puffer Fish (Family Tetrapdontidae) are highly poisonous, second only among vertebrates to the Golden Dart Frog (Phyllobates terribilis).

The most venomous fish is the Reef Stonefish (Synanceia verrucosa). The spines on its back produce a venom which can cause severe pain, shock, paralysis, and tissue death in humans.

Male Seahorses (Genus Hippocampus) are known for having a pouch in which they carry eggs laid by the female.

The Harlequin Tuskfish (Choerodon fasciatus) has electric blue vampire teeth.

Speaking of teeth, Serrasalmids have jaws ranging from human-looking nutcracker teeth to bear-trap looking flesh-eating chompers.

The Mandarinfish (Synchiropus splendidus) and the Picturesque Dragonet (Synchiropus picturatus) are the only two vertebrate species known to produce their own true blue coloring. Blue as a color is usually a result of reflected light, and almost all cells that are perceived as blue are actually a reflective black. However, these two mandarinfish species have cyanophores, which are both blue in pigment and reflective, making them the most blue animals in nature.

Many fish are popular in the pet trade (some more ethical pets than others) and some have even been domesticated and bred to display a variety of colors and shapes, including goldfish, koi, Betta, and zebrafish.

Moray Eels (family Muraenidae) have a hidden set of internal jaws, called pharyngeal jaws. While most predatory fish use suction to “inhale” their prey, moray eels just… pull them in.

The Mangrove Rivulus (Kryptolebias marmoratus), a species of killifish, mostly breeds by self-fertilization and can survive for about two months on land. Males are rare, and can only hatch from eggs kept below 19 °C (66 °F).

The most famous pupfish (family Cyprinodontidae, also a type of killifish) is probably the Devils Hole Pupfish (Cyprinodon diabolis). It is a critically endangered species found only in Devil’s Hole, a water-filled cavern in the US state of Nevada. When nearby agricultural irrigation caused the water to drop in the cavern, several court cases ensued, resulting in Devils Hole being declared a National Monument in 1952, including the preservation of adequate groundwater to maintain the pool. As of September 2022, the count showed a total of 263 observed wild pupfish, up from only 35 in 2013.

There are waaaay too many cool fish for me to write about; I keep thinking of cool facts but this is already getting so long and I gotta save some for if this class makes it to the next round 🥲

[xoxochb]

dated february 28

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

this has been the most uneventful and boring and stupid week of my life.

I’ve been sick since saturday with the flu and while it is for the most part gone it’s still there faintly.

but at least I get to be babied by percy. or really that’s until I start complaining and complaining and then he ignores me. I pull his hair and that gets him talking. kinda like a children’s toy !

I think he’s been doing something differently because he’s looked extra nice this week. maybe he’s pregnant and that’s why he’s glowing. he told me once that female seahorses get the males pregnant because they have a pouch which can carry the eggs.

I asked him once if he’d like to be seahorses with me so I could get him pregnant. he said “no thank you” but offered to impregnate me instead. unsurprisingly, I said “no thank you” and to wait until we’re older. that made him happy so I was happy too.

but I seriously think he’s doing something though. or maybe it’s just because summer is on the horizon. I can’t wait until it’s hot outside and I get to see him shirtless every day. though I do during winter too anyways…

on that thought, I do everyday. but you get the point, it’s still nice.

he convinced mr. d to let him take a week long trip to see his family. which I’m happy for him because I know he misses them. but I’m going to miss him too! maybe even more! :(

but luckily I’ve prepared myself for this moment! I took a couple of his clothes back to my cabin so he can’t find them so when he leaves, his clothes will still smell like him so I can wear them. and cry in my bed maybe possibly probably.

percy asked me not to cry while he leaves but it’s hard not to because we’re together 99% of our lives and when he’s gone it’s kinda boring.

and it’s sad because I’ll miss him.

but I won’t think about this until the time comes.

today I made a playlist for us. it’s songs I like that remind me of percy and some of him and me both. I almost let him help me find the perfect songs but I knew he’d end up making it just a bunch of led zeppelin songs so I decided against that idea.

but I did make him sit through the entire playlist and rate each song. he said it was a 10/10 playlist because I made it. I guess that’s progress!

percy told me he was going to make a playlist himself for me so I’m kinda excited to see what he’s putting on it. and kind of nervous you never know with him.

he’s kind of suffocating me right now. he passed out after we shared a bowl of ice cream but I presume that any minute he’ll be up and bouncing off the walls. by then I would become sleepy. that’s a later problem though…

for right now I’ll just enjoy watching his peaceful state. I like watching him sleep it’s nice. he’s very pretty and I like his hair. and his eyes, sea green is my favorite color. but his eyes are closed right now. I’ll take a look later.

I think I should go to sleep before he wakes up so well actually get around to sleeping tonight because most nights we don’t sleep and stay up until, like, three in the morning and that’s usually when he crashes.

then we miss breakfast and he cooks me something for brunch. today he made me heart shaped pancakes and they even had chocolate chips!!!!!! I gave him a large kiss in return. he asked for more since he had even taken it upon himself to add powdered sugar. I told him tonight.

and that idiot remembered. so as he asked, I granted.

but I just keep talking….. I should rest my eyes and my wrist before it falls off.

xoxo, sweet girl <3

[akaittou]

Wow I'm on a roll with these pencil sketches! This guy 100% needs me to do a digital reference sheet for him though, with the colours I imagine him having being so important to his look. Also, @anachronic-cobra is a massive enabler ♡

Text transcription and some photos of relevant mediterranean sea life under the cut for people who can't read my handwriting.

POSEIDON

Orca base, Giant Devil Ray fins, Seahorse tail

Anemone hair with Squid tentacles, Sea Urchin spikes as natural crown

Exaggerated Dolphinfish colours ➛ "Human" skin pale with gold undertone, translucent in chest area (bright golden heart) ➛ Green–blue gradient on sides, blue–black on back (Devil Ray stripe in black under dorsal fin)

Bioluminescence! Belly side has green shimmer (Velvet Belly Lanternshark) and some features have brighter spots

Wears pearls, nacre and golden sea silk

Can change his tail into legs at will; finds will form the shape of a long drape then. Also shrinks to half the size when he gives himself legs.

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Eleven

Daemon x reader

Synopsis: Laenor’s funereal, politics. Alicent being a bad mom, Viserys being a idiot. Talk of Rhaenyra having more power.

Note: If you wish to be added to the taglist, comment. Greatly appreciate it.

Masterlist <-previous , next->

122 AC Driftmark

Five dragons left Bloodstone for Driftmark. Another funureal of a Velaryon. Baelon sat in front of Daemon, strapped by leather belts. Vhaenor was in Aegon's saddle and Aerion was held by you.

Vermithor the largest of the beasts flew ahead. Your youngest slept soundly strapped to your chest with cotton wraps. Occasionally involuntary moving in the swaddle.

You felt sorry for Rhaenyra, not only did she loose Harwin not long ago now her husband has perished. And what of Jace, Luke and Joffrey.

You heard the familiar screeches of Caraxes and the warmth of dragon fire, you glanced upwards to see the blood wyrm, Sunfyre and Moondancer chasing each other.

Rhaenys and Corlys looked awful, they lost all of their children in the span of four years.

Your favourite cousin looks bad clad in black, but that colour seemed to follow her. You wrapped your arms around Rhaenys, offering her your comforts.

"I am so sorry, Rhaenys, Corlys." You said taking Rhaenys's hands in yours.

"Thank you, cousin." The Queen who never was answered.

"We are glad you could make it." She forced a facade of confidence.

"It is all right, you do not need to fake being nice. You just lost your son, I would except you to scream, cry and rage."

"I have done my fair share of mourning already, Laena and now Laenor." She whispered, tears prickling her waterline.

"Whatever you need we and the Stepstones are at your disposal." You offered.

"Thank you, y/n." Corlys answered placing his palm on your shoulder, squeezing thankfully.

You returned to your family at the side of the cliffs, on the other side closer to the casket stood Rhaenyra and her three boys.

"Mama." Vhaenor tugged at your black mourning skirt.

"What is it?" You questioned leaning to his level.

"I'm sad." He muttered shyly, you smiled sadly at him. "I don't like it."

"Oh sweet boy, it is normal to feel sad sometimes. Especially when a member of your family passed. But soon you will feel better, the feeling will pass." You tried to console the two year old

"It will?" He hopefully asked.

"I'm sure of it."

Laenor's sea stone casket was being wrapped with ropes, soldiers of house Velaryon prepared to lower it into the salty sea.

You saw tears escape Rhaenya's and Laenor's children, the three boys wore teal doublets adorned with silver seahorses and black trousers. Jacaerys looked the most like his grandmother, Rhaenys with dark hair and indigo eyes.

Lucerys was most like his mother, silver-gold hair and blue eyes, while Joffrey named by Laenor was most like his father, curly dark hair with silver streaks and violet eyes but his face was entirely Laenor.

Your children with Daemon on the other hand were of typical Valyrian beauty. Baelon had silver hair and bright violet eyes, his eye and nose shape were just like Daemon's. Vhaenor was your spitting image with your red eyes and face shape.

Aerion was most like his grandmother Alyssa, Daemon said so. You never met your father's first wife but from what your brothers said, Aerion was very much like Alyssa.

You wondered what will Rhaenyra do now, her husband has perished, she has three children but she is still young. The realm will expect her to marry again. 

You took your children by their hands and walked over to where the realm’s delight was standing. You stared solemnly at Rhaenyra, you placed a hand on her cheek and brought the princess into a warm embrace. No words exchanged but that was fine, none were needed. 

The three boys standing around Rhaenyra on the other hand, looked at you with muted curiosity. 

„Jace, Luke, Joff this is your aunt Princess y/n.” Rhaenyra introduced, you kneeled next to the boys. 

„I’m sure you do not remember me, but we have met a few times before.” You said placing your palm on Jace’s rosy cheek. 

„Good morrow, princess.” Jace shyly answered. 

„You can call me aunt, Jace.” The dark haired boy nodded his head sheepishly. 

„I would like to introduce your cousins to you.” You slightly pushed Baelon and Vhaenor in front of the three Velaryons. 

The eldest of your princelings slightly bowed his head at them. 

„I’m Baelon.” He introduced himself „This is my brother Vhaenor, and the babe is Aerion.” 

„I’m Jacaerys this is Lucerys and Joffrey.” You watched as the two boys interacted. 

„How are you faring?” You questioned Rhaenyra leaving your sons to themselves. 

„It is not as hard as I thought it will be. I did love him, but it was more of a brotherly love. I’m thankful for the children we have…” She told you her thoughts and you listened intently. „I’m glad we left for Dragonstone when we did, I do not think I could have endured more of that vipers den. And Laenor, gods save him. He was a good father but not much more than that.” 

You slightly chuckled as you talked in a secluded area. 

„Do you think you’ll remarry?” You suddenly questioned. 

„I have a lover I am very close to… But I do not want to marry so soon. I wish to experience more freedom.” She answered smoothing her black gown with teal accents. 

„A lover you say?” You curiously asked, you saw as a blush spread on Rhaenyra’s pale face. 

„He is a noble man from Lys.” 

„Lys?” 

„Darys Ormollen.” She said without beating around the bush. 

„You do not mean… Aunt Saera’s son.” You remembered the name you heard in passing conversation. The heir only nodded. „How did you come to meet our cousin?” 

„It is a long story.” 

„I would love to hear it some day, and meet him. Perhaps we could even invite aunt Saera to the Stepstones.” 

„I don’t think she will accept but you can always try.” 

„It is important for our family to be together. Besides I didn’t even know she was married for a long time, Jaehaerys told me of Saera a few times but nothing of her life outside of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

The funereal procession started. The heads of house Celtigar, Massey, Darklyn and Bar Emmom were present. Corlys’s brother Aethan, delivered the eulogy. You watched with Rhaenyra your children and Daemon as Laenor’s casket was lowered into the sea. The same way Laena’s was four years ago. Baelon and Vhaenor were standing next to their cousins. Aerion was in your arms and Joffrey was in Rhaenyra’s. 

„May the winds guide into the the afterlife, nephew.” Aethan recited „For our words are the old, the true, the brave. You may not have been old, but you were true and brave.” 

You saw tears stain Jacaerys’s and Lucerys’s cheeks, your palms rested on their shoulders. With the back of your palm you wiped their tears. 

…

You watched as Viserys stumbled down the cliffs with Alicent and Otto by his side. Helaena and Aemond following after them. You approached his grace with Daemon and your children. 

„Your grace.” You bowed before your sickly brother. 

„Oh, y/n.” He wheezed „You certainly are a sight for sore eyes.” He placed his boney palm on your cheek. 

„Brother, you do not look well. Are the maesters treating you well? If you wish I can call upon my healers from Essos.” You offered putting your hand over his. 

„The maesters are taking great care of his grace. They do best they can.” Alicent butted in. 

„Perhaps their best isn’t enough.” Your husband snipped staring with wide eyes at his brother’s worsening condition. 

„Hush now husband I am sure the maesters are… healing our brother to the best of their abilities. Even if they are not enough.” 

„And your children, your highness?” Otto muttered chanting the subject „Happy news reached King’s Ladning that new dragons hatched.” 

„Yes, lord hand. Five dragons indeed hatched.” 

„And since when are you interested in dragon, Otto? I remember you said they are an abomination to your gods.” Daemon carelessly said. You tried to surpress a chuckle. Viserys through his hazines glanced disappointed at Otto. 

„Speaking of children, your graces we must return to them.” 

„And where is Aegon? He has not come greet me or his lord father.” Alicent questioned accusatory.  

„Aegon is with his cousins.” Your brother answered for you. 

„So you saddle him with taking care of babes, now?” The green Queen made a snide comment. 

„Oh not at all, your grace. He is simply offering his comforts to Baela and Rhaena. After all they just lost and uncle.” You intertwined your arm with Daemon. 

„I see.” She only muttered and the two of you left, returning to your children’s side. 

„Have you seen him? He looks like the stranger is eating him alive.” You whispered to Daemon, he nodded and squeezed you hand reassuringly. 

„The greens are ordering the maesters to be worsening his condition.” 

„We need our healers to take a look at him.” 

„And what if they don’t do anything?” 

You stayed quiet, consumed by thoughts on how to turn this situation in your favor. 

„What are you thinking of?” 

„Do you remember when our grandsire named father his hand when he was too sick to rule?” 

„You do not think..?” 

You nodded at your brother. 

„Viserys is sick, the greens control the throne. Rhaenyra is his heir, she should become her fathers regent and wear his crown.” 

The two children of Baelon the brave stared at Rhaenyra from afar. She and her children stood alone amongs the cliffs and salty sea. 

„It could work, but Otto is still hand. He will go against this, the council will side with him.” Daemon noticed, caressing your hand affectionately. 

„Then we have to think of a way to find new members of the small council, those who will be unwaveringly loyal to ’Nyra. And us of course. Still we have to get rid of Otto somehow, name a new hand.” 

„Corlys…He hates the greens as much as we do. His house is the richest in the seven kingdoms. He is old and experienced.” 

Your eyes widened surprised. 

„You would not want to be hand? I know you pestered Viserys for that position.” 

„I used to, but we would have to move to King’s Landing. I do not want to leave the Stepstones, I do not want our children to be raised there. At least on Bloodstone we are the rulers of our own lives, Baela and Rhaena are happy there and so is Aegon.” 

„You have changed.” You stated, a warm feeling spread in your insides. 

„Does my wife, enjoy it?” He teasingly questioned placing his large palms on your waist. 

„Very much so.” You smiled leaning into his warm embrace. 

„Your highness.” Annora approached the two of you with Aerion in her arms. He was fussing, you could see tears stain his chubby cheeks. „I’m sorry but he could not stop crying.” 

„It is fine, thank you.” You answered taking Aerion, he will be turning one soon.

„You coddle him.” Daemon stated taking him from your arms and into his. You could see that he started to wiggle in discomfort.

„Maybe he’s hungry.” You said feeling your sore breasts. 

„No, he is spoilt. You always hold him, you didn’t do that with Baelon or Vhaenor.” 

„It’s just… he’s so small.” 

„He’s healthy, my love. He’ll be fine without your embrace for a while.” Your husband answered keeping Aerion in his arms. 

You walked with Daemon through castle Driftmark. A dreary seat, even more than Dragonstone. Your children were taken to a spare nursery, that left you and Daemon in your temporary chambers. 

You sighed and begun to unlace the black mourning dress with silver accents. 

„Do you need help?” Daemon approached you from behind, without and answer he began to unlace the bodice and dress. 

„I need to change into something more comfortable.” You announced „This dress squeezes my breasts and I cannot take it anymore.” 

„Perhaps you are due to a visit to the tailor?” Daemon muttered sliding the fabric off your body. You raised your silver eyebrow. 

„Are you saying I’m too fat for my dresses?” 

„No, your tits are too big to fit in that dress. Although I do like to see them spill out of your cleavage. Perhaps I was wrong to mention a tailor.” Your husband teased caressing the side of your breast with his thumb. 

„I wasn’t so big after Vhaenor…” You stated staring at yourself in the mirror. 

„You aren’t big, y/n.” 

„Do you want more children?” You questioned turning to face Daemon, dressed in cotton underdress. 

„I want as many children as you will give me.” He leaned against your forehead. 

„A girl, then.” 

„A girl?” Daemon pressed a kiss to your neck, his hands roamed over your body. „As you wish, wife.” 

…

You slept comfortably tangled in Daemon’s arms, the bed was not as comfortable as the one you shared on Bloodstone. A knock stirred you out of sleep, you tried to ignore the sound but it was persistent. You groaned and wrapped your body in a silver robe and opened the door. 

„Aegon? What has happened so early?” You questioned leaning on the door frame. 

„His grace invited you and your family to break fast together.” He nervously said. 

„Now?” 

„In an hour or so.” 

„Why are you telling me this? You are not a servant.” 

„I’m… What if they order me to return with them?” You sighed at his broken heart expression, you wrapped him in your arms and caressed his messy silver gold hair. 

„I will fight to keep you with me.” You answers pressing a kiss to his temple. 

„Promise?” 

„I promise. Now go back to your chambers and dress, preferably in black it is a funeral after all.” 

He nodded and skipped off to your chambers, you sighed and pressed your hand against your forehead. It was too early for political warfare, you felt tired and a bit sore from the strenuous activities of the night before. 

You walked over to the bed where your husband laid, his naked back spread comfortably over the bed. 

„Daemon.” You nudged him, he groaned and turned away from you, you chuckled and sat on his abdomen keeping him in place. „Daemon.” You  whispered into his ear.

„hmm?” He murmured waking from sleep. 

„We are invited to break fast with our brother.” 

„How do you expect me to leave when I have you on top of me?” He cheekily said, your cheeks warmed and you felt him growing hard under you. 

„We do not have time…” You whispered. 

…

Your black dress with embroidered red dragon’s breath swayed with your movement. The long sleeves of the dress were in Baelon’s clutches as he walked next to you unsure. He did not like castle Driftmark nor did he like the sea. 

„Your highness.” Ser Erryk and Arryk Cargyll bowed as they guarded the King’s chambers. 

„Sers.” You answered and entered your brothers room with your family. 

Viserys barely lucid sat at a round table in the corner of the room, a weird smelling incense was burning in the chambers. 

You kissed his healthier cheek and took a place on his right, Daemon to his left. 

„Where is Alicent and the children?” You questioned. 

„It will be just us, my siblings.” He wheezed back, motioning for the servant to bring the food. 

„What is that smell?” Daemon asked sniffing the air. 

„Oh it is- it is an ailment the maesters prescribed.” Your brother answered breathlessly, you nodded at Daemon to put out the poison and open the windows. 

„I’m afraid it’s making the children a bit queasy, you do not mind if we open the windows?” You took Viserys’s hand in yours. He simply nodded and glanced at your eldest, Baelon. 

„And how are you, my nephew?” Viserys asked, the two boys looked at him unsure. Aerion stayed in the nursery. 

„I’m well, your grace.” The four year old answered playing with the hem of his doublet under the table. 

„There is…no need to call me your grace. I am your uncle you may adres me as such.” Your brother said, you smiled seeing the love he held for his family. „I heard you have a dragon.” 

„Yes! I call him Aegarax, he’s brave like Darren!” Baelon exclaimed happy to talk about his hatchling, simply forgetting the uneasiness he felt before. 

„You named him right, Baelon a strong name.” He turned to you. 

„Thank you, I do not remember our father but the stories grandsire told me of him makes me feel as if I did get to know him.” 

„And where is the babe?” He questioned. 

„In his nursery.” Daemon answered. 

„Viserys… do you think it well to name a regent?” You gently coaxed him into the new topic. 

„Regent? Otto is my hand, he does well in my absence.” His grace wheezed. 

„And how often does he rule in your absence. I’ve been hearing that he sits the throne every day.” Daemon a bit more harsh added. 

„My sickness keeps me abed most days, yes.” 

„Even the greatest Kings get sick or old and they need help. Their family’s help. Remember Jaehaerys? He named Baelon his hand and regent.” 

„Yes, father was an excellent hand despite his short time serving the role.” Viserys agreed. You noticed that once the incense cleared your brother seemed to get a bit better. More lucid. 

„Rhaenyra is your heir, you should let her take more responsibility. She is after all the future Queen.” 

Viserys pondered for a moment, he glanced at you then at Daemon. 

„Perhaps you are right…” He admitted. „I will have to talk with the council of this change.”

You sent a small smile in your husbands direction, he returned the gesture smugly. The Hightowers have controlled the throne far too long, as true dragons it was your duty to stop their rule.

The bigger problem however was Alicent Hightower, you couldn't dismiss a Queen as easily as a Hand. You knew Viserys never loved her, he may hold some affection for her but it couldn't compare to the feelings he held for Aemma.

"Have you thought of Aegon returning to King's Landing?" You suddenly asked, your brother raised his eyebrow. It is as if he just remembered he has a son.

"Oh yes... Aegon."

"He's turning into a man soon, brother." Daemon added.

"I suppose he is... what is the issue then?"

"Aegon doesn't want to return to the Red Keep." You stated matter of factly.

"Why wouldn't he? His siblings and mother are there." He said unaware.

"That castle is a viper's den, it is no surprise a boy of only five and ten wouldn't want to stay there. After he was raised for over a decade in a loving home."

"Alicent is his mother it is her choice in the end."

"You are the King, Viserys. I'm sure it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for you to have the last say. I'm sure Aegon would be thankful." You stated

"I..." He wheezed "Bring him." He ordered.

Aegon dressed in a black doublet and trousers, the cape on his shoulders was of a deep crimson.

"Your grace." He bowed his head slightly at his sitting father "Aunt, Uncle."

"Aegon, sit." He ordered, the boy took a seat next to his little cousins. You smiled symphatically at Aegon as he uncomfortably cowered under Viserys's gaze. "I have heard you wish to stay with your aunt and uncle, is this true?"

"...Yes, father." He nodded unsure.

"I see no reason to-" Viserys was cut off in the middle of the sentence, the doors opened and Alicent stepped in the chambers. Her dark green dress flowing after he movements.

"Husband, son. Princess y/n, Prince Daemon." She was out of breath as she acknowledged your presence.

"Alicent." Viserys wheezed "What are you doing here? I... I didn't call for you."

"I came to see my son." Aegon tensed at his mothers words.

"We have just been talking of extending his wardship." Viserys answered and in that moment you wanted to commit treason and strangle your brother for his idiocy.

"What?" She asked in disbelief.

"I wish to stay with my aunt and uncle, your grace." Aegon meekly said.

"That is out of the question. Your wardship has come to an end, there is no reason for you to stay on that rock any longer."

"Lady Mother-" He wanted to speak but Alicent silenced him with a flick of her wrist.

"And you would allow this?" She glared at Viserys "For them to take away my son from me? Again?"

"I am not taken away anywhere, I want to remain with my cousins and aunt." Aegon explained but Alicent ignored his pleas.

"Aegon..." You whispered to the boy who had tears in his eyes.

"Don't you see Viserys! She has raised my son! Poisoned him against me, and his family!"

"Alicent! Mind your tongue. My sister has done and admirable job at raising Aegon, you should be thanking her instead of spitting such vile accusations." Viserys said angrily glaring at his Hightower wife. "If it is Aegon's wish to remain in the stepsons he may do so until his eight and tenth birthday when he shall return to King's Landing."

"My King-" Alicent tried to speak.

"My decision is final, Alicent."

King Viserys's health has deteriorated over the years making him incapable of sitting the throne. He named his heir Princess Rhaenyra regent until he would be able to rule once more. Many believe that is is Princess y/n and Prince Daemon's doing for the realm delight to sit the throne. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Taglist:

@nessjo

[biapascal]

Childood Besties.

Request: hi! how are you? if you're taking requests i would love one with paul mescal <3 him and reader were childhood friends and always had feelings, but they stop seeing each other because life, collegue happens (the usual) and when the both are adults the meet again during the holidays and it's so cute, pleasee!!! thanks, have a lovely day <3

Hi love! 🤎🫧 Hope you like this!

Summary: reader name is Millie. Childood best friends. Fluff fluff fluff 🪶

Warnings: loss of a parent.

You met him at the playground. Your hands were covered in dirt and he was playing with toy cars next to you. You didn't even bother to ask him to join you: you were building your fort and didn't want any unwanted visitors.

"It's going to fall" he said. "What?" You tilted your head and he pointed to your construction. "It's going to fall." You found it annoying. "No, it's not" you replied. He smiled softly. "All right then, can my cars come by, they need gas."

"Yes, I have gasoline in there."

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

You didn't want to get this tattoo. You hated the idea of the ink taking root in your skin, you would have felt damaged. You spent the night before scrolling through Pinterest looking for inspiration. You chose the seahorse because it reminded you of the days you spent with him at the beach. You didn't even like it that much, but you were tired of searching. Your father died and you felt the need to get a tattoo. You thought it was stupid, but you felt it was the right thing to do. They had just opened a tattoo parlor in your own city. A friend recommended it, and you didn't have the time or inclination to look elsewhere. Gia got a tattoo there: A small gerbil on the collar bone. It was cute, and that was enough for you to understand the skills of the tattoo artist. You arrived with the picture ready to be shown, and seeing Paul was unexpected. The two of you were childhood buddies until eighth grade: he started playing soccer and you didn't care about his hobbies anymore, so you found other friends. You didn't leave him with hatred, but over the years you wondered what your teenage years would have been like around him. You even had an innocent crush on him during seventh grade, but you never told him because you felt he already knew and didn't say anything so as not to break your heart. After high school he disappeared from your sight. You followed him on social media and saw that he got a girlfriend. She was hot and he seemed happy. You weren't jealous, but you couldn't help but wonder what he would be like as a boyfriend.

When you saw him that day, he was single and in great shape. "Mills!" He greeted you. "Damn, I didn't expect to see you” you chuckled. "Yeah, me neither." He was cleaning a table and seemed relaxed and happy to see you. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't a fine man. "How are you??"

Shitty: Your father just died and you got a college degree in marine biology while working at Starbucks. You managed to smile despite the horrible feeling inside you. "Well" you didn't even want to lie. "My father just died..." his eyes widened in shock. "Jez Mills, I'm so sorry” you nodded, used to those words. "I was actually going to get a tattoo for him, it's stupid and clichéd I know..."

“Well, I don't judge. If you feel it's something you want to do to remember him, that's fine.” He said. He was always good at drawing and for years he had to choose between following his soccer career or an artistic path.

The seahorse was perfect.

You smiled. "Thanks, it's really cute" he got up from his seat. "I know I shouldn't ask, but why a seahorse? Did your dad introduce you to marine biology?" you shook your head. "I actually picked a seahorse yesterday” you admitted, blushing a little. He smiled amused. "Really?" you nodded. "I was thinking about my memories with him, and I remembered him teaching me how to swim, and then, you know... I just picked a sea creature". You were about to put on your jacket and leave when he stopped you. From the look on his face, you could tell he wasn't sure what he was going to say, and you felt strange. "Look, I know it's been a while..." he began. "More than a while, we were kids then" you added. "Yeah, but I just got here, my old buddies don't live here anymore, the town has changed. Wouldn't you like to have lunch together, talk a little and get to know our grown-up versions of ourselves together?" It was an interesting way to ask someone out. "Yes" you nodded with a warm feeling in your chest. "Sure. Monday is okay?"

You didn't know if this was a date, but you still had to look nice. During the holidays, the city embraced your Christmas spirit with comfort and cute decorations on the streets. You waited for him outside the pub, and when you saw him, you couldn't help but feel attracted and wished this was a date.

Christmas music was playing in the background, but the atmosphere was gone. Paul must have noticed your discomfort and asked you if you were okay. "Yeah, yeah, it's just” you looked around. "It's loud" he nodded. "We can go somewhere else if you want” you shook your head. "No, I really want a beer” he chuckled. "Okay, okay."

He has always been caring since he was a child. He seemed genuinely interested in how you felt. So when he started asking you about your family, work, and friends, you knew he wanted to know that everything was really okay.

"Yes, Mom got better and now I can say that the awful feeling of grief is slowly becoming less painful, but please, I want to know about your life” he felt uncomfortable and you wrinkled your eyebrows. "Sorry," he blushed. "It's just... I dropped out of college. Soccer was stressing me out and I was looking for a job" there was nothing to be ashamed of. "Hey, you have your own tattoo studio" he took a sip of his beer. "Why are you ashamed?" he sighed. "Well, all my friends went to college, even you..." you rolled your eyes. "Who cares, I have a degree and I work at Starbucks.” You raised your eyebrows. "Nothing against Starbucks, but after all those years of studying, it's not exactly what I wanted."

The lunch was great. It gave you a warm feeling. You felt comfortable around him and now you really wanted to get that tattoo.

When you arrived at the studio, he asked you where you wanted it. You blushed because you weren't sure. "Uh, how about the wrist?" he suggested. You nodded. "Is that a nice spot?" you asked. "Yes, it would look cute on you."

It was painful as hell, and when you got to the end and had the seahorse on your skin, you sighed in relief. He was there the whole time, working carefully and asking you about your pain. You wanted to stay in that chair with him for a little while longer, even if you didn't want to have another pain session. he noticed, and you both blushed. "How was it?" He asked. "Terrible, but the drawing is adorable," he smiled softly. "Glad you liked it."

You started to date shortly after. The first time he asked you out, he went to Starbucks and you felt embarrassed, but were happy to serve him and say yes. You have met several times. One day you were walking through the park and noticed that the playground had disappeared. "That's sad” he looked at you confused. You pointed to the place where you and him used to spent your childhood together. "The playground...they got rid of it" he looked surprised. "Oh" he started to walk and you followed him. You both tried to remember where the objects of your past were, pretending to see them. You were on the "swing" when he suddenly stopped and stared at you seriously. "Hey, what's going on?" He remained serious for a few seconds and then smiled, giving you a warm feeling in your stomach. "Nothing, just thinking” you scowled. "About what?" He chuckled. "Nothing, it's just... this place reminded me of when you had a crush on me" he admitted. You blushed and looked down. "Oh, so you knew then..." he nodded. "I was waiting for you to tell me" you widened your eyes in surprise. "Too bad you didn't and I was too cowardly to say anything myself". "So you... you had a crush on me?" he chuckled, obviously embarrassed. "Yeah." You both remained silent. "But I don't want to be a coward now, too” your eyes brightened. "Do you have a crush on me?" You asked. He nodded. "Yes, Mills, I like you and I'd like to kiss you if I that’s okay”you took his hand, colder than yours, but when your lips melted together you realized that the warmth was the same.

[steviewashere]

Anything For You

Rating: General CW: Minor Mention of Body Dysmorphia, Seahorse Pregnancy (If You're Not Comfortable With That Sort of Thing? Not Sure If This is a Real Content Warning, But Best To Be Safe) Tags: Post-Canon, Set in the 1990s, Dialogue Heavy, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Trans Steve Harrington, Pregnant Steve Harrington, Seahorse Dad Steve Harrington, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Massages, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson's Hands, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Sappy Steve Harrington, Sappy Eddie Munson, Steve's Weird Pregnancy Cravings

🫃—————🫃 He flips over, clumsily, to try and get more comfortable. The pillow pressed into the shape of his body is not helping, not even when he fluffs it with both fists.

It had been a long conversation, trying for a baby. A lot of questions—Are you sure you’re ready for this; Are you okay for the changes your body has to go through; Will you let me love you even if you find it hard to accept that I do?—and there had been only one simple answer (with minor hesitance on his end)—Yes. Of course, yes.

And, so far, he hadn’t fussed too much about what he saw in the mirror. In the first few weeks, sure he did. How the roundness to him now wasn’t just fat building, it was a life growing within him. A life he had been eager to bring into this world, all things considered. The dysmorphia hadn’t gone away completely—it never has, probably never will. Seeing his toned muscles turn to gentle chub, the way his hips had shifted, those curves he chiseled away had come back tenfold. There were the stretch marks and the whole…thing with his now outward belly button. Sometimes, truthfully, he felt like an alien in his own body. The changes happening out of his control, sitting idle at his console, letting the changes take their course.

Nine months of sacrifice, that’s what it was.

Only a handful of months, though, out of a future of happy years. Of a child’s curiosity, interspersed with giggle fits and pillow fights, late night book readings and last minute science projects, cuddles on the couch and popcorn between the cushions, and smiles with gaps—aimed at him; oh, aimed at him.

Steve hefts himself from the mattress, shoving the pregnancy pillow to the side. His feet are throbbing, ankles swollen, everything of him heavier and clumsier than before. Hell, Eddie had told him to stay in bed, just to see if he could get the swelling to go down. But his back aching something this fierce—so horrible it’s like somebody’s standing on his spine with combat boots—he needs it to be fixed, and he only has one solution that comes to mind. Eddie’s sweet, sweet, beautiful hands.

He trudges through the hallway, past the bathroom (in which his bladder gives a phantom of a cry), towards the living room. Where, as soon as he begins to round the corner, he can see Eddie hunched over their coffee table like a gargoyle, paints and other tidbits laid out. Ah, he’s catching up on some painting, he realizes.

As soon as he can catch his breath, Steve leans against the end of the couch, hands pressed into the small of his back. “Eds?” he calls quietly, “can you help me with something?”

Immediately, Eddie is tossing his paintbrush down, scrubbing his hands on a nearby rag. It’s already been through some mishaps, if the poor stains on it have anything to say. His eyes land on Steve, big and cowed, eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. The rest of his hair is up, loose strands framing his picture-perfect expression of worry. “What’s going on, baby? Need me to make some ginger tea?”

He shakes his head, presses his hands firmer against his spine. Steve groans at a particular sore spot. “Can you give me a massage, please?”

“���Course, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, “let’s get you back to”—

“The bedroom’s too stuffy,” he whines. “Maybe we can put on a movie and you can do it out here? Maybe also with a plate of cheese and crackers? With some pickle juice in a glass?”

Eddie chuckles. “I can do that,” he agrees. “Why don’t you take my spot and I’ll get all that for you? Want some ice cream, too? I got your pint of Cherry Garcia.”

“Oh god, yesss…You know how to spoil me, y’know that?”

In one swift motion, Eddie stands from his spot. He rounds the couch, stops in front of Steve, and gently guides him to the cushion. Leaning down again, he presses a quick, warm smack to Steve’s temple. “Anything for you, sweetheart. You’re doin’ all the hard work.”

He settles deep into the couch cushion, leaning himself awkwardly on the armrest. It’d be better if their sorry excuses for throw pillows actually had some give to them, but they’re stiff and starchy. Putting them in the wash is added to his ever expanding to-do list; a list he won’t ever get around to, or if he does, it’s Eddie doing all the work. Tidying the place, nitpicking about the dust nobody’s ever seen, restocking the higher shelves of their pantry because, and Steve will remember this remark from Eddie, “I don’t want you somehow giving our child a genetic concussion.” And when Steve had barked back that that doesn’t happen, he only got a terse jaw clench and a nostril flare for his combativeness.

Needless to say, Eddie takes damn good care of him. It wouldn’t be hard to convince him to grab a comfier pillow from their bed. However, that seems to be unnecessary as he comes swinging back into the living room, his arms laden with the necessities.

“Alright, here is your makeshift charcuterie board”—a large platter, it must be their turkey serving platter, is clattered onto the coffee table—“I added some of those sliced black olives and a few pieces of deli meat, just in case you needed some more savory. There’s a still frozen pint of the finest Cherry Garcia; careful, sweetheart, it’s rock solid. A glass of iced pickle juice, just so you won’t be grossed out when it goes room temperature. And…da-da-da-da-daaaa”—Eddie sings that last bit, removing something that’s stuffed in his left armpit. The something in question is Steve’s pregnancy pillow, still warm from both their shared body heat—“a sweet cushion to replace that stupidly firm one you’re trying to get comfortable on. Figured it’d be nice to put under your head while you’re leaned down for the massage.”

The pillows are swapped out. In the firm one’s place, the pregnancy one is fluffed and squished until it perfectly cushions Steve’s heavy head. He turns himself so that he can rest down into the pillow, forehead pressed gently into the give. It’s barely warm and soft, meeting him in all the places it’s needed. He sighs. Mumbles, “You’re amazing.”

“Mm, I’m perceptive,” Eddie says, “hardly anything to write home about.”

“I love you to bits and pieces.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers. A warm hand trails across Steve’s shoulder blades, fingers gently knuckling along the knobs of his spine. “What movie were you thinking about? Your pick.”

Steve shifts his head, peeking over his now folded arms. There’s a low haze that settles over him, fuzzy and sleepy as shapes are blindly traced over his soft t-shirt. Blearily, he eyes down their video shelf next to the set. All packed in tight, tens and tens of movies for them to pick from. “What’re you in the mood for? I won’t really be watching, probably.”

“Let’s see…” Eddie meanders towards the shelf with Steve briefly mourning the loss of touch. He then crouches down with two noticeable pops from his knees, his soft fingers trailing along the sharp corners of the video protectors. He plucks a couple from their resting spots. “I was thinkin’, for you…something like…Ghost, or maybe Jerry Maguire, or…we could do Coneheads?”

Steve scoffs. “Ed, if you turn on Coneheads, I’m making you sleep on the couch tonight.”

He hears Eddie click his tongue. Then, he nods. “Duly noted.” Coneheads gets slotted back onto the shelf—even if, really, they should be putting it into the overflowing donation box near the front door. Oh well, Steve thinks, problem for another day. Eddie peruses their shelf for another moment, pulling out a couple more videos. “How about Sleepless in Seattle? Or we could even watch”—

“Jerry Maguire. I don’t think I can watch anything with Tom Hanks in it for a long while.”

“Y’know, I should’ve considered that after we saw Forrest Gump. That really did you in.”

“I almost left the theater after Jenny…god, just thinking about it makes me wanna sob. Get over here and make me feel better.” He loosens one of his arms from its tight hold around his head, hand desperately calling out for Eddie. However, his little call is ignored as the movie is slipped through the slot of the VCR. It gently clicks in, whirring as it’s seemingly rewound. The TV’s input is switched over with another set of clicks before a mirage of color is flashing before him. If he squints, he thinks he can spot Tom Cruise’s stupid shiny smile in the mix of it.

Eddie snatches the remote from the entertainment center, standing in place at the middle of their living room, hip cocked and arm wrapped around his torso as he waits to press play. Then, finally, the movie begins with Eddie reclaiming his spot next to Steve.

Before he can comprehend the change of pace, there’s a gentle tap to his back.

“T-shirt off, baby,” Eddie whispers, “do you want me to grab the lotion real quick? Might feel nice.”

Steve sits back up reluctantly, grunting as his spine is strained. He peels the stupid shirt over his head, though, and promptly tosses it to the carpet. “You gonna get my stretchies, too?”

There’s a tickle over his hips, the tips of Eddie’s fingers tracing the shiny edges of stretch marks. “Do you want me to, sweetheart? Y’know I can do it, it’s no problem.”

“They’re on my front, too, though.”

Gently, Eddie’s palms lay over those same sides. He cups his hands, running them up and down the lower half of Steve’s baby bump. “I’ll redo your pillow and everything if you want me to, Stevie. Massage your marks with one hand, hand feed you cheese with the other…kiss you between bites…tell you how wonderful I think y’are.”

Steve sniffles, bending back down to rest his forehead on the pillow. “You’re too nice to me,” he whispers.

There’s a quick peck to the center of his back. Murmured against his skin, “Because you deserve it, sweetness. You deserve all the nice things.”

“Ugh,” he groans, reaching down to squeeze tight at Eddie’s right hand. “You’re gonna make me cry, Eddie. You know that I’m crazy hormonal right now.”

“I’m telling the truth, though and you know it.”

“Just…just get the lotion, Eds, ‘fore I completely lose it.”

The couch groans as Eddie stands up from it. His shadow looms over, but then he bends down, warmth swallowing Steve whole. Another kiss is pressed to him, his exposed right temple this time, and his hair is petted at sweetly. “I’ve gotcha, baby. Nothing else I’d rather do, only wanna take care of you.”

“Eddie…”

Before he can do something silly like reach out and swat Eddie’s hip, he hears footsteps retreating down the hallway. The bathroom door is creaked open. “I’m gettin’ it, I promise!” Eddie calls out, “but I’m also takin’ care of you, cause that matters most to me! You know that!”

“You’re a sap!” he shouts back, “and I’ll cry, so stop it!”

Quickly as he left, Eddie is back beside him. His hands rub together, dry as they are, warming them up. “Mm, what if I thought you were beautiful while you cried, huh?”

“That means you’re being a meanie, making me cry on purpose.”

“I don’t mean to, Stevie baby. I’m just being honest.”

Steve sighs as Eddie’s warm hands lay flat to the center of his back. They don’t move, merely just remain. But even then, the touch alone, it’s enough to relieve at least a little tension. Though, realistically, that tension’ll be back by the time the movie’s over. “I know you’re being honest,” he mumbles into the soft fabric of his pillow, “it’s part of the reason why I love you.”

“That and my hands, I’m sure. Y’really love my hands.” As if to punctuate that, Eddie digs his thumbs deep at the knobby edges of Steve’s spine. Slow, though. Precise and gentle.

“Oh, you have no fucking idea how much I love your hands, Eds. If I wasn’t keen on marrying you, I’d leave you for just your hands.”

Eddie gasps dramatically. “Scandalous,” he exclaims, “what would our kiddo think of that?”

“Mmm,” he hums at a particularly good release. Steve takes a deep breath before he continues, recalibrating. “They’d probably think your magic hands give the best hugs. ‘Cause I think our baby’s gonna like hugs. You’re gonna be huggin’ us all the time. No choice.”

“Oh no…my family loves my hugs, how dare they? And they don’t even give me a choice? For shame.”

“You love it, Eds. You’d give all of yourself as soon as they asked for one.”

Eddie’s hands leave him, reaching over with a quick pump from the bottle of lotion. In the air, Steve can smell it, a light trace of lavender. “That I’d do, you’re right. Y’know what I think they’d want the most from you, though?”

“Hm?”

“Your laughter,” he answers softly and reflexively, “they’d go running to you with a new joke just because they know you’d laugh at it.”

Gently, Steve turns his head so he can get his words out clearer. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so. You’d start giggling and then they’d start giggling and then I’d come in, both of you would be on the floor in pure hysterics! Just laughing so hard you’re crying and your faces are red and even just looking at me would make you guys snort.”

“But then you’d be out of the joke.”

“Mm, yeah, well…I don’t need to be part of every inside joke. Think since you’re doing all the hard work carrying the kid, maybe you two deserve a little private stand-up show of your own, yeah?” The lotion is cold when Eddie begins finally smearing it over Steve’s skin. His touch is just as soft as his words. Light, almost airy. Carefree in a, somehow, completely caring way. “Where does it hurt the most on your back, sweetheart?”

“Everywhere,” Steve says, “but the lower back might be a good place to start. Think the bump is carrying lower or something.”

Without more direction, Eddie’s hands are already moving down. The first grind of his knuckles into tissue and Steve’s a groaning, relieved mess. “Breathe for me, baby. Deep breaths,” Eddie coaches. He does as he’s told, earning soft praise in murmurs and whispers. Then, “We’re getting closer.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “’T’s kinda…kinda scary-exciting.”

“No more back pain, though, think about that. You’ll push and try and break my hand, but afterwards? You won’t be in constant, consistent, almost overbearing pain.”

He nods into his pillow, watching Jerry Maguire in near-blindness. Only a haze, lost in the feeling of the relief he’d been searching for all day. “No more massages,” Steve mumbles, “this feels fucking fantastic.”

“Just ask,” Eddie whispers, fingers walking up Steve’s spine. His knuckles are deep, kneading, yet still so careful. Like he’s too afraid to go too hard. Even then, Steve won’t push him. This is nice as is. “All you gotta do, baby, is ask me when you need help. Sucks that it took a whole damn pregnancy to show you that, but…hey, at least you’re finally asking when you need something.”

Steve huffs. “Well, I kinda have to when I can’t bend down to pick up a dropped sock or even tie my own stupid shoes.”

All at once, he can feel Eddie shift. Bending down to look him in the eyes. Wide-eyed and insistent before he sits back. “I like that you’re doing it, sweetheart. Okay? I want you to want my help. So…you want a massage after the baby comes? Cool, great. Consider it done. Lavender lotion and a charcuterie board and I’ll be at your side with my crazy awesome hands.” Eddie’s fingers trail again, though this time they’re connecting something. My moles, he realizes. Making constellations. At a particular spot, Eddie taps it and leans down, kissing the mark. “Even if you wanted me to make you a milkshake at fuckin’ midnight because you were having a crazy craving, then so be it. I’ll use some Cherry Garcia and everything. Just say the word.”

“And if I wanted my pickle juice right now?”

Without words, Eddie is bending forward. The scrape of the glass cup, ice clinking away at the sides, fills the room. “Sit up for me, baby.”

He does. And in one, gentle motion, a straw is brought to his lips. Steve sucks down greedily. There’s tang and acidity on the back of his tongue, something barely sweet on the tip of it. It’s the most quenching thing he’s had, the ice helps, too. Breaking away with a gasp, Steve smiles loosely over his shoulder, met with a close-lipped soft one of Eddie’s.

“Good?” Eddie checks.

“You’re a genius for the ice. It’s so cold.”

A snort. “I know you, sweetness. We’d be sipping ginger tea if that pickle juice went warm even the tiniest bit.”

Steve scoots on his cushion, pressing his right side against Eddie’s left knee—still sitting half-criss-cross on the couch, facing him. He smiles at Eddie, soft around the edges, but all his teeth. It squints his eyes. Bunches his cheeks. It’s easy on him, never forced when under the sweltering gaze of Eddie’s half-bared soul. Bursting, he says, “You’re gonna be such a great dad, y’know that?”

Eddie tilts his head, assessing. “Oh, yeah? How’d you figure that?”

“I don’t know, just…you…you think of ways to care about people without them even knowing what they need. You’re just…you’re honest, you care, you’re sweet. If I was doing this with anybody else, I think I’d be scared out of my damn mind. Just completely terrified.

“With you, though, with you I’m cautious, but excited. I’m…

“I’m safe. And I think we all need that.

“You’re gonna be a great dad. You were meant for it. Cosmically or whatever, you were meant to be right here, right now.” He slides a hand over Eddie’s left knee, squeezing with all his might. Teary-eyed, he still smiles. And with the touch, the warmth, the feelings, Eddie places his own hand down, soft palm against the warm back of Steve’s hand. Their fingers interlink. Tight and secure like puzzle pieces always meant for the other. “Even if it means guiding a straw for pickle juice into my mouth and hand feeding me white cheddar and letting me be a teary hormonal mess on our couch.”

Leaning forward, Eddie rests his forehead against Steve’s. His right hand goes to the baby bump, thumb sweeping in wide, horizontal stripes. There’s an easy, soft intake of breath as a rolling, slow kick meets his touch. “You’re gonna be perfect,” Eddie murmurs, “even when your emotions are haywire and even when you say the wrong thing at the wrong time and even when you think you aren’t. Everything about you, Steve, is perfect to me. Your laugh and your smile, the way you breathe, how you dance to any song on the radio, every mole on your back, the softness of your touches…

“Steve Harrington, you’re the perfect man. You’re gonna be a perfect dad in that beautifully imperfect way.

“Because you’re you. And I love you with everything in me and…

“Shit, I think I’m gonna be the one to cry if I sit and think about it all right now,” Eddie admits, voice wavering. His hand presses more firmly to Steve’s bump, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind the whole world that it’s there. “I’d do anything for you, even if it means putting ice in pickle juice. Even as gross as that is, I’d do it all for you.”

Steve sniffles, burrows his forehead further into Eddie’s, as if they could possibly get any closer. “Kiss me?” he softly requests.

No words, no hang-ups, no buts—

Eddie’s lips are salty with newly shed tears. Warm. Firm, yet soft as they glide like butter on Steve’s. It’s not hungry. No, this is full. Sweet like a dessert you didn’t think you needed, but wanted anyway. Candid like a movie. Gentle in all the ways only whispered words know how to be.

It’s them.

He pulls away, not far, but just a hair of space. Quietly, “Will you help me with my stretch marks and cuddle me?” Steve asks.

“I’d dance on stars with you if you asked,” Eddie whispers, “‘course I will.”

🫃—————🫃

[luveline]

i love how you write roan 🥹🥹🥹 what if she sees reader upset about something (sad song or movie? not something super serious) and she cries because you’re sad and she doesn’t want you to be

ty for ur request ♡ fem!reader

Eddie lavishes like a king in the corner of the new couch. This is the life, he thinks, the sentiment strengthened by your foot warming under his thigh and Roan's entire body stretched out in his lap. 

He tucks her hair out of her face and presses a soft kiss behind her ear. He loves movie nights. A bowl of jiffy pop popcorn with extra butter and milk duds cools to his left, your body screwed up in a shape to his right. You're so endearing he's stopped being surprised by it, and Roan's his eternal love —he has the perfect girls for company every single day. 

"Eddie?" you whisper.

He and Roan both look at you. "Yeah?" 

"Does the–" You cover your mouth so Roan can't see. "Does the mommy seahorse die?" 

"You've never seen this movie before?" Roan asks. 

You drop your hand. "Well, I thought I did, but I guess I fell asleep last time?" You speak with your face turned toward them but your eyes on the TV screen, horror dawning in the pinch of your brows. "No way. No way!" 

What follows is a few long minutes of absolute silence as the movie progresses. The mommy seahorse, who's been sick the whole movie, says goodbye in a burst of colour. Eddie isn't sure if he loves watching something this sad with Roan this small, but he supposes she'll feel much worse than this as life goes on. Still, he hugs her nice and tight in case she needs it. She's been known to cry at movies: she cries every time the Part of Your World song plays in The Little Mermaid. 

Eddie's cried a couple of times with her. 

He's a little surprised when she tears up, though. Looking down at her with pursed lips, Eddie rubs the length of her arm, silky pyjamas cold under his palm. "It's okay," he whispers, pulling her to his chest. "Don't be sad, Ro, it's just a movie." 

Roan shakes her head, her shoulders shaking as she crawls out of his lap and into yours. You let your knee drop to accept her. Eddie's slightly offended until the TV screen goes white and the tears running down your cheeks shine in clarity. 

"Baby," he says with a snort. 

You laugh yourself as Roan sniffles in your lap. "Hey, what's the matter?" you ask her. 

"You're crying," Roan says. 

"You're crying." You sniffle and wipe her cheeks with your thumbs. "We're silly, huh?" 

Roan isn't perturbed by the movie, it's your crying that's affecting her. She does as you'd done, wiping your cheeks dry with her hands before enclosing your shoulders in short arms. "Don't cry, mom. It gets better at the end of the movie. They find the starstone." 

You sniff and laugh, your foot shifting from under Eddie as you fold yourself around Roan, almost protectively. "Are you crying 'cos I'm crying? Princess, they're just movie tears. I'm a softie." 

"She's a huge softie," Eddie says, lost for what to do besides sit there and watch. 

"Are you okay?" Roan asks. 

"Baby, I'm fine. It's only a sad movie. I'm okay, I promise." You smile widely. "See?" 

Eddie decides nobody is in any real emotional distress, grabbing the popcorn bowl. "You know," —his words stagger as he gets distracted digging for milk duds— "we should start watching other stuff if you guys are gonna fall apart. You're gonna have headaches and I'm gonna have to take care of you both. We could watch one of my tapes–" 

"No, dad," Roan says firmly. "No way." 

"Which tape? I love you, Eddie, I really love you, but I can't watch your bootleg of Live in Irvine again this week. I'm all Metallica'd out." 

"Hey." He holds his hands up. "Whatever." 

You and Roan share a guilty laugh. "Maybe I could watch it one more time," Roan says. 

"You just feel bad for hurting my feelings." 

Roan shakes her head, dark hair bouncing around her cheeks. "That's not true, daddy." 

He puts the bowl of popcorn on Roan's play table and leans back, arms over the backs of the sofa with forearms hanging down, cool. He raises his eyebrows at his pouting daughter.

"I– I actually like Metallica," Roan says, an arm behind your neck, her cheek brushing your cheek. 

You make a pleased humming sound and nuzzle your cheeks together. "Me too." 

Liars. "So we can watch it tonight?" he asks. 

You whisper something in Roan's ear. 

"Um, no. Y/N's too sad from the movie. I think you need to make her feel better, with, uh…" You whisper again. Roan's eyes widen with understanding. "With The Little Mermaid!" 

"Oh, awesome, so we're gonna cry all night?" Eddie asks. 

He gets up to put it in the TV. You drag yourself to his side in the corner of the couch and the three of you smush together into a bundle of warmth under a big throw blanket. When Roan cries during Part of Your World, you shush her and dry her cheeks affectionately. Eddie can't help laughing. He loves you both, but you're such gigantic softies it's unreal. 

"Would you still fall in love with me if I could speak?" you whisper. On screen, Prince Eric tells Ariel she can't be the one after all, her voice taken by the evil sea witch. 

Eddie can't see your face, his head resting on yours. Each word you speak vibrates up. "Of course I would." 

"My pick up lines were half the selling point," you argue. 

You're a flirt sometimes, he'll give you that. "I'd love you even if you had a fish tail instead of legs. Eric doesn't know how good he's got it. I'd miss your voice." He draws a short line down your arm with his marriage fingertip. "But you'd still be my Y/N." 

"That's Disney cheesy," you say with a scoff. 

But. You weasel your arm around Roan's front to hug him, too. Gentle, you press a kiss to the slope leading down from his neck. His flirting was cheesy for sure, and it worked like a charm. 

[bogleech]

I'm curious Mr Leech, what animal do you consider to be the WEIRDEST?

idk I guess the seahorse? from what I've read at least.

The seahorse has arguably the weirdest physical shape of a vertebrate, but just shape alone isn't the only way an animal can be weird, and I think maybe the weirdest animals are myxozoa??

The pustules on this fish are full of an organism similar in composition to a slime mold, a parasitic infection we considered a type of "protozoan" for generations

But myxozoa begin as a drifting spore, which ranges from a simple ball to these "anchor like" objects and even cube-shaped frames like in the top right here. These spores inject the slime stage into fish through a harpoon-like cell identical to the stingers of Cnidarians, like jellyfish, corals, anemones and man o' war. So eventually it was suspected that this wasn't just convergent evolution, and once we could genetically sequence living things, it was proven that this parasitic saltwater "slime mold" was an cnidarian after all, a jellyfish relative that reduced itself to nothing but bare cells. But it still gets weirder, because there also existed these weird "parasitic worms," Buddenbrockia, that ALSO came out of a spore stage, and also had stinging cells.

Finally it was proven that this isn't just another weird jellyfish relative, but specifically a species of Myxozoa. This isn't just slime anymore; it has multiple tissue layers and even muscle. So this is a sea creature skin disease, but it's also an animal that dissolved into a single celled form and then re-evolved a different multicellular animal body from scratch.

[things-of-fire]

Happy WIP Wednesday everyone! I’ve been working on an illustration of The Lost Heir cover in the style of an old VHS/DVD case. My main inspirations have been The Little Mermaid and The Land Before Time. I’m really happy with how it looks so far, but I’m extra busy this summer so progress is slow.

[Image ID: a digital illustration of two dragons, Tsunami and Anemone from the Wings of Fire series. They are both SeaWings, amphibious dragons with bioluminescent markings. They are swimming underwater together, with Tsunami on the right and Anemone above and behind her on the left. They are both smiling and talking. Tsunami is larger than Anemone, with wave-like swirls on her wings. The fin on her head looks like a spunky faux-hawk. Anemone has her hand raised as if gesturing to something. She wears a small tiara and a bow set with a pearl around her neck. Her fin ends in a cute curl, and the markings on her wings are heart-shaped. Tsunami is colored a solid light blue, and Anemone is a lighter periwinkle. They are surrounded by messy sketches of fish, seahorses, and bubbles. A faint, loosely drawn background depicts rocks, corals, and seaweed. The background is solid gray. At the bottom of the image are the words, “Wings of Fire: The Lost Heir.” The illustration is unfinished. End ID.]

[talenlee]

Dragon Regulation

Dragons are cool

I don’t think that’s a controversial opinion. I think that, broadly speaking, if I put a thing in a fantasy universe and put it within certain benchmarks for what constitutes dragon-y-ness, it’ll be accepted as a dragon. And maybe you’re much more loose and casual about it, but I think about how there are rules for dragons. Or if there aren’t any, shouldn’t there be?

Rules For Being A dragon

Dragons are like pornography. I can’t define it for you but I sure know it when I see it and also terabytes of them have passed through my screens each year. But more the first part.

You can call anything you want a dragon. In the real world, we call a type of fruit a dragon, and a bug, and a very cute lizard, a bigger less cute but still cooll lizard, and a seahorse and a slug and a millipede that makes zyklon-B.

Yeah, really.

Messed up, huh?

Anyway, the point is, dragon isn’t a special title. You don’t actually have to fulfill any obligations to be considered a dragon. It isn’t about being a lizard or about being able to fly or being able to breathe fire or even something like number of legs. This extends into your world and what you mean when you say a dragon dragon.

Here’s a list of just… stuff that I’ve seen about dragons in different sources.

They’re ancient reptilian flame-breathing hexapodal creatures with two wings and four legs but no hands, like Smaug from The Hobbit Part 3.

They’re long ferret-like creatures that fly without wings, and a serpentine body, fluffy hair and antlers, like in Raya and the Last Dragon.

They’re round, with tiny flappy wings and big yellow eyes, like How to Train Your Dragon‘s Gronckle.

They’re a sinuous dinosaur-bird with a huge jagged beak and crest, like Ridley from Metroid.

These are just a handful of things, but while all of these things can be called dragons, none of them seem to ‘break’ the term, right? But what about:

Chrono Cross has a dragon that’s a human-shaped clown.

Seath the Scaleless from Dark Souls has no scales, which isn’t actually that big a deal compared to how he has no legs.

Like A Dragon is a game about Yakuza dudes.

temtem has a feathered serpent with no limbs as a dragon.

Pokemon has Exeggutor, which is a walking palm tree with four heads.

Bubble Bobble has two dragon protagonists who have no wings and barely necks.

Mario has Bowser? Who may? be a dragon? But he’s also a turtle, and lacks wings?

There are even more examples of things that are ‘dragons,’ and that seem to sit outside a single, obvious specific intersection of ‘dragon-ness.’ In your worldbuilding then, the thing to consider is what you need ‘dragon’ to do or mean. In Like A Dragon, the term Dragon is used as a reference to literature: nobody in that game is actually producing a real dragon because in that story, dragons aren’t real, except as a thing people can be, and – you know, so on.

To that end: Work out what Dragon is supposed to mean. It isn’t necessary to have rules, but it helps if you know whether or not you need them. For myself, I like the idea of dragons as very magical but materially real creatures. I like the idea that they fly with their wings, that they are very muscular, that they have a lot of weight, and that while there are a lot of virtues to being what they are, biologically speaking, they are creatures that exist, and follow rules. They’re long-lived, they eat, they drink, and they sleep.

Rules for Treating A Dragon

Okay so you have some rules, or some guidelines at least, in your mind for what a dragon is, what makes a thing a dragon. In my case, I started with ‘it’s big, magical, and it’s a meaty, material entity, not a god, or somehow fundamentally supernatural.’ The way I tend to think of a dragon is as a single character that represents a government you have to negotiate with or deal with.

How does the world treat dragons?

In your world, are dragons mysterious? Are they history or are they nonsense? Do people have the idea of dragons but no experience with what they really are? Are dragons common, such as things like kobolds (are they dragons, to you?) or Dragonborn? What about half-dragons? Kinda hard to claim that dragons are fake if you’ve got a queen who’s been famously a half-dragon for generations, at least, if that’s a claim that’s somehow believable.

Dragons are pretty materially significant: are there laws about dragons?

Consider, if a dragon is a dangerous thing that can endanger a city, it might be illegal to contact dragons. It might be seen as just fundamentally a dangerous thing for a random citizen to do because talking to a dragon could get the dragon’s attention on the city. In the real world, there are laws against doing things that can cause landslides, there are laws against encouraging wild animals to approach the city, and there are laws about contacting dangerous political entities.

A dragon is kinda like all three?

Rules For Slaying A Dragon

Who can fight dragons in your story?

Not everyone, right?

A dragon is something that in your mind is probably only going to show up if it’s important and difficult. It’s a term with a degree of prestige. You don’t just beat up a dragon in an alleyway, and you don’t go out slaying dragons like they’re rats. I mean, you might if you think of kobolds as a type of dragon, and maybe a setting where there are populations of feral dragons providing problems in city infrastructure could be interesting to go in one way or another, but by default, nah.

Dragons are dangerous.

Who kills a dragon? I’ve written about this in the past, in my talk about the way that a dragon is a surrogate government. Thing is, you gotta consider in your stories and your worlds what stops a dragon, what displaces or defeats a dragon. Can they be? Can they be reasoned with? I compare them to states, but are dragons going to have the needs of states, can they be reasoned with? Do they have the economic presence of a state?

Most of the time when you see a dragon defeated, it’s a story about someone who should defeat the dragon doing it. It’s very rarely a peasant uprising, it’s usually a knight or a prince and it very commonly is connected to a justifiable cause to go deal with the dragon. It’s really interesting to because it feels like to an extent, a dragon, at least an evil or hostile one, is a bit like a rogue state? And wouldn’t there be a clear idea that ‘hey, someone should go deal with this, or what it’s doing?’

Forgetting About Drakes

None of this is necessary, of course. Dragons are such iconic creatures that you can just have one apepar in a story in the world and people will go ‘oh, yeah, dragons, we know what those are.’ You don’t have to consider them as economic engines or state actors that result in regulation.

But isn’t it more interesting when you do?

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[zarvasace]

congrats on writing 10k in one day, holy shit! for a palette cleanser prompt, maybe four telling wind about the minish? only if you want to ofc, no obligations 😁💕

Thanks!! And this is a cute prompt :)

---

Wind flops down next to Four, arranging himself on his stomach on a little overhang over the water. “Hey, Four, whatcha doing?”

“Trying not to cry,” Four says, though he laughs. His hand dangles down into the little tide pool, protected from the strong ocean waves. 

His response startles Wind. “Uh… why? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Look.” 

Following Four’s direction, Wind peers over the edge of the overhang. It takes a second, but Wind knows to look hard. Down in the tide pool, a few little unusual animals skitter around the shells and rocks and sand, chittering to each other and up at Four.

When Wind sees them, his eyes widen. “There are Minish in my era?” 

Four nods. “Yeah. They're in the water.”

These Minish look a little different from those Wind has grown used to seeing in others’ eras, mostly Four’s. Their feathery tails look more like tadpoles’ fins now, and their ears look more like fins, too. 

“They're still so cute,” Wind says with a laugh. He sits up just enough to look through his bag, and pulls out a bit of smoked fish he's been saving to offer to them. 

Not all of the Heroes can see the Minish. It’s a secret shared between the youngest ones (and Twilight), and it’s always a treat to say hello. These Minish take the fish from Wind with excited noises, and though Wind doesn't understand them, he knows from previous experience that they appreciate gifts—as long as they can give something back. 

Sure enough, Wind and Four both walk back toward the camp on the beach with their pockets full of strings of shells and sea glass carved into the shapes of seahorses and boats, laughing. 

[buzzingroyalty]

sometimes you see a single image on the internet and that changes your plans for the rest of the week

seahorse is made from lps #426 that i had horribly defaced with sharpie in a customization attempt when i was young (you can see the red ink refusing to give up relevance in the fins especially lol) and this rarity eqg mini

cat is from the lps mcdonalds series that i had managed to chip off its base and use as a normal pet and oh my god was this thing a bitch to get the head off of. that plastic does not cut easy let me tell you. also this blythe (all those accessories are long gone)

dog is lps 883 and oh god im gonna kill someone i forgot to double check which eye shapes she had. i sketched her with the clover ones but was looking at pictures and saw mostly the single dot ones and second guessed myself without actually looking at the damn doll. pretend i drew them right. her body is this flutteryshy and her clothes from this blythe. im planning to use the eqg heads for another project

and finally the dragonfly is #715 that i had broken the wings for a loooong time ago and we would use it as a cricket instead. kinda fucked up. her body is another lps blyth with arms harvested from yet another lps blythe and i dont like to be wasteful so heres a manner of beast

ok thats all ffrom me, sid toy story, for now see you laters

[just-some-user-hunny]

Aurelia Targaryen the bastard princess pt.2

Her relationship with her closest family members...

. As Aurelia grew, the more she found herself more inclined to keep herself distracted. She found comfort in a needle and thread- pushing and pulling the silver thorn between canvases, mimicking a memory from long ago. Craving the comfort of sewing clothes and cushions in her little home, but instead of mending ragged shirts and socks, she weaves stories with silken thread and beads.

. She'd often find herself accompanying Heleana, the two soft-spoken princesses lost within the comfort of silence and dance of fingers and needle. Heleana would embroider silver winged butterflies and spindle legged spiders, whilst Aurelia would weave pictures of dragons and flame. The two little twins playing nearby, tended to by a maid with cast down eyes. Helaena was a kind company, her odd dreamy mutterings were nothing but distant bird songs to her ears. She could not understand, but she listened and appreciated it.

. The training grounds often bored her, you see. She would often feel inclined to watch Jace and Luke train with their clashing swords, perched upon a balcony above like a ruffled dove, her gleaming dress of seafoam and gold surrounding her in a cloud of soft fabric. Her heart had warmed over the years towards the two princes, as she could only stay bitter and sad for so long at so many people. Her heart grew lonely, and those two found themselves wiggling their way inside.

She would often capture their glances towards her like she were the sun, their smiles just as bright. She'd smile and blow playful kisses, finding laughter as Luke would pout and Jace waving back. However Aemond, the one eyed prince, his intense smouldering glare would startle her- causing her to shy away in the end. She found no amusement in the clash of steel or the shouts of men, the kick of dust and rubble polluting the air. Nor the willowy man who'd glue his eyes to her like she were some spectacle.

. After all, she had her half-sisters to tend to.

Rhaena and Baela.

The twin girls would sail upon oceans to visit, always bearing tender expressions and gifts. The older girls would spoil her, almost as rotten as Rhaenyra would. Treasures of pearls and sea glass, jewelry fashioned into shapes of seahorses and dolphins and shells, all placed upon her throat in golden chains. But Aurelia could only look forward to being in their arms again, that was the greatest treasure she could ask of them.

Their hair of spun silver and gold almost seemed to tangle into one as they'd hold one another, Aurelia finding comfort in their familiarity and embrace. They were kind to her as a child, the closest she had felt to ever since she had been taken. The adults never seemed to understand, always blinded by their own greed and power- but the friendship between children is simple and pure.

. Rhaenyra was a warm and kind woman. Warm hands and eyes, embracing and gazing at her with wholehearted adoration.

Often would the silver haired woman preen and tend to her curls of silvery gold locks, picking at braids with gentle fingertips and brushing down the fabric of her dress to look presentable, before smiling happily and kissing her daughter upon her brow. Syrax is just as attentive, bowing her neck of gold scales to coo and trill like a mother bird- huffing her smoky sulphur burnt breath over her face, her snout nestling within Aurelia's palm contently before retreating to her riders side.

. To them, she was a soft little dove. Letting them bestow her with pretty things for her nest of solitude, gleaming silk threads to embroidery with, or shimmering gowns made of the finest fabric and jewels. It almost seemed to weigh her down, like chains. Pretty chains made of gold and gems are still chains.

But to Daemon? She was just as spiteful and stubborn as she had been the day he took her. She seldom even looked at him. Him and Ceraxes both frightened and angered her.

Her breath would catch in her throat whenever the blood scaled beast would chirp and coil close to her like a viper, his eyes beady and predatory like a shark. She was just as much in his hovering possessive glare as her father's, whose eyes seemed just the same. Watching. Nitpicking. Controlling. Yet he'd still speak to her like everything was simple and plain, like she wasn't under his thumb. She'd curse and curse him in her mind, under her breath, grinding the words of his name between her fingertips into dust- as if it would eradicate him entirely. Daemon was aware, of course he was. But he couldn't care less. Seeing her all dolled up in pretty fabrics and looking clean and healthy kept him docile. No matter how much his daughter would spite him with venomous glares and pursed lips every time he'd forbid her from riding her dragon without him accompanying, or simply leaving the castle to walk upon the beach without a guard trailing her heels like always.