Caduceus Did Say That’s What A Champion Is For. So Would That Mean The Last Thing To Go Through Keyleth’s

Sirius is the type to buy Remus flowers and then deny it was romantic. "They were on sale, Moony, don’t make it weird 🙄"

炎と血

Sanemi having literal kill on his haori, while Giyuus haori means longevity (Sabitos turtleshell pattern as well as the fact tsutako name means ivy which also symbolizes longevity) even their haoris parallel each other smh

Every khal who ever lived chose three blood riders to fight beside him and guard his way. But I am not a khal.

Daenerys Targaryen in 6.06 “Blood of My Blood”

More OC things because that's like all I draw 😅 MHA OC, Inkspill! Her quirk: tattoo! She can manipulate the design of her tattoo-like markings to summon various creatures, effects and weapons. The bigger and more complex the design the more powerful the effect; she's limited only by her creativity and the amount of pain she can withstand, the trade off being she experiences a burst of concentrated pain equivalent to the pain she'd experience if she was actually getting her design tattooed!

im right and we all know it

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part I)

a/n: I just can't get the idea out of my head that Daemon is an incredibly sweet & loving father & honestly really needed to write this for comfort. when I started I thought it would be a little oneshot/imagine, but I ended up having a lot more to say than I anticipated so this is going to be multiple parts! if you, like me, are in need of wholesome soft! daemon who would do anything for you & be an amazing father, I hope this helps 💕

summary: a recounting of the day you were born & daemon's first moments with you

cw: difficult birth (but it all ends happily!), fem reader, mostly comfort & fluff

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The Day You Were Born

-The day you were born was one of the happiest days of Daemon Targaryen's life.

-He didn't know quite what to expect of fatherhood and in truth, there was more than a small part of him that dreaded the idea, even feared it. He didn't think himself terribly well-suited to a life of domesticity, seemingly so tedious and dull. Of course, everything changed the moment he saw you.

-It was a difficult birth, but not once did he leave your mother's side. His hands would be covered in bruises for days to come from the way she squeezed, but every single patch of blue and purple was worth it.

-You weren't ready to leave your mother's womb just yet, and after much struggle, one of the Maesters pulled your father aside and told him another method may be required to successfully deliver you. But when informed of the sacrifice it would require, Daemon gave the old man such a glower that the midwives thought the Prince would slay him where he stood.

-Daemon composed himself and simply said that both you and your mother would be happy and healthy by the end of the day. The threat was clear as the summer skies and from that moment forward, though one hand continued to be squeezed by your mother's, the other rested firmly on the hilt of Dark Sister. Daemon would do anything to protect his family.

-He was never a man of the Faith, but in those trying hours he prayed to the Old Gods and the New. He prayed to the Many Faced God and the Lord of Light. He prayed to anything and everything that might be listening, that might possibly hold some power. He didn't think he deserved to be spared pain or loss, but he knew for a fact that you and your mother deserved all the goodness this life had to offer.

-When your mother began to lose hope and panic started to set in, he wiped her brow and kissed her forehead, whispering, "This world is not yet done with you, my darling."

-He likes to think you heard his voice, for despite the hours spent by the Maesters and midwives doing everything they could, it was only after he spoke those words that you decided you were ready to join the world.

-Of course, he let your mother hold you first, and though she desperately wanted to spend the rest of the day with you in her arms, she needed her rest. After a few minutes and many more assurances that you were healthy as could be, you were passed to a midwife and then, for the first time, to your father.

-You had come into this world screaming and crying, and even in your mother's arms, you wouldn't quite settle. But the moment you found yourself in Daemon's embrace, the whole world turned soft and warm. Everything was kind and good. Everything was love.

-And he was in love from the moment he held you in his arms, the moment you looked in his eyes. He saw so much of your mother in those eyes, but what surprised him was how much he saw of himself. You were the most gentle mirror, only reflecting the good. You were half of him, but you had his whole heart.

-He pressed his lips softly against the center of your forehead. "Tala," he murmured, tears in his eyes. Daughter.

-As soon as he uttered the word, he knew you would be one of the few people in his life to speak High Valyrian. He would teach you the language of your ancestors and delight in every word you spoke. No victory would be small. Everything would be celebrated.

-He imagined who you might be and what he might pass onto you. He wondered if you'd be a dragonrider. He hoped you would like Caraxes (he knew Caraxes would love you). He secretly dreamt of teaching you how to fight and, when you were old enough, letting you hold Dark Sister. Maybe even wield her. He was incredibly possessive over his Valyrian steel sword, and rightfully so. Very few were worthy of her. But he knew that even fewer would be worthy of you, and at the thought of you wielding her, his heart swelled with pride.

-But he knew he would love you just as much if you preferred the graces and arts to battles. Perhaps you would have a voice to enchant the realm, or a sharp wit to rival any Maester.

-Anyone else might have worried. So many parents expected their child to be the best they could possibly be, but that wasn't Daemon. He loved you as you were. No matter who you would become, no matter your accomplishments, you would always be his world. You would always have his heart. He would always be proud to be your Kepa.

-He smiled as you wrapped your hand around his finger, cooing as you looked up in awe. Daemon Targaryen was many things. He was the unruly, chaotic brother of the King. He was the second son, former heir to the Iron Throne. He was the Prince of the City, Lord Flea Bottom, King of the Narrow Sea, and, first and foremost, the Rogue Prince. But he never expected that his favourite title would be born of love instead of war. He never expected a title so gentle, so beautiful.

-He never expected it, but he was so grateful to be your father.

-Your Kepa.

This is so Satoru coded

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part III)

a/n: hi hi hi! once again, I'm so in my feels and absolutely blown away by all the love on this series! I definitely plan to continue this well into the reader's adulthood, I'm just enjoying the baby/pregnancy stuff so much! I got a little carried away again, so you get lots of daemon/wife goodness in this one, too! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for future parts!

Part I / Part II

summary: Daemon has always gone to any lengths to protect you, even before you were born. And oh, what gifts he will bestow...

cw: I actually don't think there are any warnings for this one! Daemon threatens violence?? other than that, it's just fluff. inspired by the scene in ep8.

~~~~~~~

A Dragon's Custom

-In the very heart of Dragonmont, amidst sulfur and brimstone, Daemon Targaryen felt a true hero as he retrieved the dragon egg that would soon rest in his child's cradle.

-The day of your birth drawing ever nearer, your mother's belly greatly swelled. Growing larger by the day, he had teased, a comment which had been received by his lady wife with both a chuckle and a threat of violence upon his person. He expected no less from such a woman, his eyes sparkling as he knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her stomach as he whispered to you.

-"You must be brave, little one. I will soon need you to defend me from your mother's temper."

-His words earned him what was, admittedly, a rather playful slap to the back of the head. "You truly are a scoundrel, dear husband," she sighed, weaving her fingers through his silver hair.

-He merely smiled as he kissed her belly, her hands, her wrists, finally rising to meet her lips. "Your scoundrel, my love."

-She melted in the arms of her dragon, who murmured sweet nothings into her hair as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her spine, soothing her aches with his warm touch. She all but whined when he pulled away with a gentle farewell.

-"Must you go?"

-"Aye," he mumbled, lips against hers in one final kiss, "but I promise you'll be happier for it."

-"I disagree. I'd much prefer you by my side."

-"As would I, my love, but our child deserves a gift only I can bestow, and I daren't wait any longer to retrieve it." Her brows furrowed at his words, uncertain of their meaning as he caressed her belly with the back of his hand. "The child of the Rogue Prince deserves a dragon egg, do they not?"

-Your mother's eyes filled with tears. She was, of course, familiar with the Targaryen customs and had dearly hoped they would be passed to you, but she had worried, as of late, whether such a thing would be encouraged.

-Though cherished by many, not all in Viserys' court approved of your mother. The Hightowers, in particular, had been averse to the match, for while her bloodline was undeniably strong, she herself could not be considered a tame woman.

-She was well-versed in the graces, it was true, and a delight to all she entertained. In such matters, the nobles could not find an ill word to speak against her, but nor could they deny the indocility, even rakishness cast in her shadow. She had not known Daemon a fortnight when the King's own Hand had discovered them in the Dragonpit, having just returned from a moonlit ride atop Caraxes, and in the midst of acts unbefitting a woman of her station.

-Ser Otto, in fairness, was not wrong in his judgement. In their youth, your mother did little to quell Daemon's chaos. If anything, she encouraged it, thriving alongside him in his adventures. He had pleaded with the King to deny the marriage, and Viserys had half a mind to listen until he saw his brother's smile. As one, they seemed something out of Valyria itself, in all its glory, and he could not bring himself to tear them apart. He gladly consented to their union, going so far as to allow a Valyrian ceremony with only a handful of guests and the stars standing witness.

-In the months that followed, they retreated to your father's ancestral seat at Dragonstone, preferring to avoid the politics and scheming of King's Landing at all possible costs. The gods, it seemed, were not so easily satisfied.

-A raven was flown to the Red Keep shortly after your mother fell pregnant, and the news was met with no small amount of excitement. Your father's first marriage had left him without an heir, and many had presumed the Rogue Prince had little interest in furthering the line. Viserys requested his presence at court, if only to determine his brother's true thoughts about the babe.

-Daemon arrived on dragonback a few days later, descending with the impish smile well-known to him, and something warm, almost kind stirring in his eyes. There was no doubt of his happiness, a great relief to his elder brother.

-Viserys was, indeed, gladdened by the fact that they had found peace on Dragonstone, but he was eager to see them return to the Red Keep before your mother gave birth. This much, the King had insisted upon, for the Maesters and midwives of the great castle were said to be the most skillful in the realm. Daemon could deny many things, but his brother's summons was not among them.

-"We shall return, brother," he had said with a cold smile. "Upon your command, my child will be born in this nest of vipers, but never will I allow a single drop of venom to so much as graze their skin."

-"Daemon, you needn't-"

-Your father would not hear it, paying no mind that interrupting his King was easily a punishable offense. "They will have a dragon of mine own choosing," he declared, "and shall be raised as their mother and I see fit, in accordance with the customs of our ancestors."

-"As is your right." Viserys maintained the stoicism expected of him as King, but a genuine joy shone through the façade. "Your child shall want for nothing," he promised.

-"Nor shall my wife." Daemon's eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, ensuring that none but his brother would hear his solemn vow. "Should any in your court speak so much as a word against either of them, I shall gladly cut out their tongue." Without thought, he found his fingers dancing upon the hilt of Dark Sister, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "If your dear Hand is anything less than welcoming, I will take great pleasure in relieving him of his duties by way of beheading."

-Were it anyone else, such a threat would have been followed by severe consequence, but Viserys had a soft spot for his younger brother, whose fire so much reminded him of their mother. Daemon climbed atop Caraxes, returned to Dragonstone, and no more was said on the matter.

-He did not tell your mother what was spoken, nor did she wish to hear of it. She knew well what your father's temper could do, coupled with his unyielding loyalty. Upon his heated word, you would have a dragon. She did not care for anything else. She brought his hands to her lips, kissing each knuckle before releasing him to his task, wondering which egg he would choose. In his mind, however, there was no question.

-His cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, had recently departed with her children after an extended stay on Dragonstone. Her own dragon, Meleys, had accompanied them and laid a clutch of eggs in the island's volcano, Dragonmont. It seemed the greatest of all omens, for years before his cousin had claimed Meleys, when he himself was just a babe, Daemon's mother was her dragonrider.

-Though he could scarcely remember her, he had been told by all that he was, undoubtedly, his mother's son. In her arms, to the dismay of the Maesters, she had taken him upon the back of her dragon for his first flight not a fortnight after his birth. A creature of scarlet scales and copper claws, she was one of the swiftest dragons in the realm, even after so many years of comfort. He could not think of a better gift for you than an egg from his own mother's dragon.

-The descent was not an easy one. Many had tried and failed, the slightest misstep resulting in the most fatal fall, but your father was not afraid. He relished in the danger of it. He was not halfway to the bottom when he felt the mass shift, crumbling under his boot and echoing throughout the volcano as hunks of rock hit the ground. Any other man might catch his breath or clutch his heart. Your father only chuckled as he continued to maneuver himself masterfully. Going to such lengths for a child not yet born to him, smirking in the face of risk and finding no fear in his heart, it made him feel a good man. He did not know if his talents were well-suited to fatherhood, but of this, he was certain: you would always be protected.

-Leaping to the ground, he imagined spending the rest of his days defending you, willing at every moment to vanquish any enemy with a single stroke of his sword. Though your mother was a rogue in her own right in her earlier years, she had, as of late, preferred comfort and calm to the uncertainty she had once craved. Of course, he hoped your life would be peaceful, but he wondered if that's truly what you would want, or if you would take after him, forever trying to satisfy your own impulsivity.

-There were seven eggs in Meleys' clutch. Seven eggs for seven kingdoms, Daemon could not help but think, smiling as he gathered them with care. Each were unique unto themselves, though they bore the mark of their mother. One had golden flecks reminiscent of his brother's crown. Another was as pink as a maiden's blush, but it was the seventh egg that most caught your father's eye.

-As crimson as Caraxes' scales, with dapples of a spring rose and shadows of the purest black, there was no gift so befitting the child of the Rogue Prince. He held it dearly in his hands, admiring the way it shimmered in the slight streak of sunlight. They would place it in the warming chambers until your mother gave birth, where it would then reside in your cradle until it hatched. The thought of you flying alongside him on a dragon of such striking beauty stirred in him a giddiness he had never before felt. He wondered if this was fatherhood. Could he really be so lucky?

-He returned to your mother somewhat filthy, ash smeared across his cheeks while his leathers retained the scent of the volcanic rock.

-"You stink of dragon," she said, crinkling her nose as he drew nearer.

-He gave her a wry smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "My darling wife," he murmured, "I know very well that you love it."

-She giggled as she brushed her lips against his, hands tangling in his hair. He smelled of adventure. Danger. Power. He was a Targaryen, through and through, and she secretly hoped you would be the same.

-She pulled away and this time, it was Daemon who moaned in protest. She merely chuckled in response. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you, husband?"

-His fingers danced across the small of her back as his eyes twinkled. "Only, my love, if you'll join me."

taglist: @rosaryos @justaproudslytherpuff @sirlovel @fulla02