My BNHA OC Fuyuko.

So, I was held at gunpoint to watch the second Httyd movie and it is not that bad. I kinda like it. (I still do not like the arstyleeee)

so I decided to draw the dragons myself, plus I also made an oc!!!! His name is Zikmund, he is a dragon that got cursed by a witch into a human, and now he is using it to his advantage to steal more shinny trinkets, hahaha.

Little one

Summary: teen reader! Daryl finds you lost in a shopping center, he decides to take you back to Alexandria. You find Daryl to be a potential father figure!!

Word count: 2216

warnings: slight cursing, mentions of blood

A/n: this isn’t cg Daryl but more of father figure Daryl? I’m thinking of making a second part cus it feels unfinished… anyway this is my second fic umm I still don’t know everything abt writing so it might be bad ?!?!? Ok enjoy ❤️

Daryl was riding his motorcycle to an abandoned shopping center, desperate to find medical supplies. He parks his bike near a tree a short distance away from the shopping center, getting leaves and fallen tree branches to cover and hide it. He takes his crossbow off his shoulder, double checking it to make sure its loaded with a bolt. Upon entering the building, he immediately heads towards the pharmacy. He makes sure to be quiet in order to not attract any of the undead that may be wandering around. As he arrives, he rummaged through cabinets, drawers, and boxes.

"Dammit, already raided." He grumbles to himself in a low, hushed voice. He turns around with a quiet sigh, getting ready to leave. Just as he heads towards the exit of the pharmacy he hears a small crunch. Quickly turning around, he heads towards the sound to investigate, his crossbow at the ready.

"In the corner of the pharmacy, there you are. Covered in what might be a mix of walker blood and your blood. Dirt covers your worn and torn clothing, and you look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Daryl senses your fear and his eyes soften a bit.

"Hey... who are ya? Are ya alright?" He speaks in a calmer tone, his voice still having his gruff charm. He lowers his crossbow slightly, but still keeps it ready. You don't respond, you just continue to look up at him in fear. Daryl sighs and lowers his crossbow completely. He feels bad for pointing it at you, a lost teenager who's probably scared out of your mind. You likely mean no harm.

"Are ya... lost? Do ya need any help?" He continues. "Look, I uh, I got a group... they can help ya. They're good people." He's always been weary when revealing something like that to someone he just met, but come on, you're just a kid who probably needs help.

You fidget with your hands out of nervousness, fingers twiddling around. You take a deep breath and speak with a shaking voice.

"I'm lost.. I-I lost everyone.. I'm so scared..."

Poor kid.

"I don't know where I am, I just want my parents back!”

You start to cry, tears running down your dirty and blood stained cheeks. Daryl feels terrible. Shifting from one foot to the other, he thinks about taking you back to Alexandria to meet the rest of the group and probably live there. He thinks a little while longer, then makes his decision.

"I'll take ya back with me. I got a real nice place I stay at... there's food, clean water," He gets down to one knee to get to your level. "There's uh, nice housing, nice people. There's also other kiddos yer age too, Ya could make some friends." He looks up at you, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You stare right back at him, a look on your face as if you're considering it. You then nod your head as you wipe your nose on your sleeve, sniffling. "I wanna go with you..."

Daryl's slightly taken aback, but he recomposes himself.

"Are ya sure?" He asks, and you nod. "I'm sure... I wanna go with you."

After a few moments of silence, Daryl nods and stands up. He reaches out a hand to you which you take, and he helps you up. "Alright then," he sighs. "Let's go." You two begin to walk outside the pharmacy and to the exit of the shopping center. The dirt and debris crunch under your feet and the setting sun shines brightly. It’s almost nighttime, and the night chill is already slowly starting to settle in.

You follow him to where he had parked his motorcycle, standing behind him as he moves aside all the leaves and branches he hid it with. Daryl stands up the bike and gets on it, kicking back the stand. You get on behind him, wrapping your eyes around him. After he makes sure you're ready, Daryl revs the engine and the bike begins to move, gradually getting faster.

You both ride through the streets surrounded by woods, the wind whipping through your hair. You rest your head on Daryl's back, finding the wind and high speeds oddly soothing.

Time flies by fast and before you know it, you're at the gates of 'Alexandria Safe-Zone'. The guard at the gates lets Daryl in, and he can feel all the eyes on himself and you. Daryl ignores it, not wanting to deal with anything at the moment. He slowly rides the bike to the house he stays at. He knows he'll be questioned sooner or later about who he brought back with him, but he'll do it with it eventually.

He parks the motorcycle in front of the house and kicks the stand into place, getting off. He helps you get off the bike as well.

"Hey, uh, kid," he starts, scratching the back of his head as you two walk up his porch steps. "Ya can stay with me if ya want, for as long as ya want. I have a spare room ya can stay in. It's got a nice bed and everythin'." He unlocks the door and pushes it open. The house has a warm and cozy atmosphere. It's nicely furnished, but he didn't furnish it himself. All of the houses in Alexandria are pre-furnished as it was originally a quarantine safe zone for politicians when the outbreak first started.

Daryl puts down his crossbow and slips off his boots, leaving them by the front door. You copy him, not wanting to break any unspoken 'no shoes' rule that he may have. Daryl walks over to the couch, plopping down on it and sighing. You do the same, sitting at the corner of it. You bring your legs to your chest, making yourself feel small.

It's a new environment for you, you've pretty much gotten used to being in the woods all alone, having to be stealthy and dodge walkers left to right. But the change is nice, feels a little like how the world was before. It'll just take a bit to get used to.

You can finally get a good look at the man who rescued you. He has a rugged appearance, but for some of reason you don't find him very intimidating. You feel safe around him, like he has a calming fatherly presence.

Then, you break the silence, speaking in a shy voice. "Um, what's your name? I don't think you ever told me."

Daryl looks over to you, eyes softening once more. "Daryl." he responds. "Daryl Dixon." You nod and go back to looking around the house from where you are. You stare into space for a little while before another thought comes up.

"Could you show me where the spare room that you mentioned earlier is?"

Daryl turns his head to you once again and nods. He gets off the couch with a slight grunt. You stand up as well, following him as he leads you up the stairs. He stops in front of a door and opens it, holding it open for you. You walk in and take a look around the room. It's nothing super fancy, but it's well furnished and simple. The moon shines through the window at a perfect angle, dimly lighting up the room in a soft and dreamy glow.

You walk over to the bed that's placed beside the window and sit on the edge of it. "I'm tired..." you murmur sleepily, laying down on the bed. You untuck the blanket and pull it up to your chest. You snuggle into the covers, curling into an almost fetal position. Daryl chuckles to himself, watching you get comfortable. Daryl feels this weird, fatherly urge to protect you, to make sure you're cared for and loved. He has a feeling you two will get along pretty well.

You soon fall asleep, and he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He goes over to his own room, getting ready for bed himself. It's been a long day, riding out to an abandoned shopping center for medical supplies and instead coming back with a lost, orphaned teenager in need of care. He settles into bed, pulling the blankets over himself and falling asleep.

.

.

.

In the morning, Daryl goes downstairs to make his breakfast. You've beaten him to it, already eating orange slices on the couch. You hear his steps and turn your head around, looking up at him.

"Hey..." You mutter, then going back to eating your orange. "Hey." Daryl responds, brushing his hair back a bit and going over to the kitchen. He grabs a glass of water and makes himself some oatmeal that he found during his last supply run. Once its ready, he pours half of it into a separate bowl to share with you. Daryl walks over to the couch and sits beside you, placing the bowl on the coffee table in front of you.

"Ya should eat some more," he starts, grabbing a spoonful of oatmeal and eating it. He waits to finish until continuing. "Getting some oatmeal in ya is good, especially if ya haven't eaten in a while."

You look over at him and then to the bowl in front of you. You set down your orange slices on a napkin and grab the bowl.

"Thanks..." you responded, eating a spoonful. You finish it up pretty quickly, which makes sense. You haven't eaten a proper meal in who knows how long. You eventually finish eating both the oatmeal and orange slices, and you settle back onto the couch. Suddenly, you remember that you're still dirty and need to clean up. Your face flushes out of embarrassment. Have you really been looking like that this whole time?

"Do you have a shower that I could, uh, use?" You asked Daryl in a timid voice, now feeling hyper aware of your dirty appearance.

"Yeah, to the right of yer room." He replied, nodding his head towards the stairs. You nod your head in gratitude, getting up from the couch and going to the bathroom.

.

.

.

That shower was possibly the most refreshing one you've had in a while. There was warm water, soaps, and possibly the fluffiest towels you’ve ever seen. But now you have another problem, clothes. The only ones you have were the torn, dirt covered ones you've been living in for the past few months or maybe even over a year. You wrap a towel around yourself and crack open the bathroom door just enough to peek your head out. "Daryl?" You call out, face flushing from embarrassment once again. "Could I borrow some clothes?" There's a moment of silence before you hear him shout back a "yeah", and you close the door, waiting. You wait for a few minutes until you hear the sound of his heavy footsteps, cloth falling on the floor, and then a knock. After that, he walks away. You wait a few seconds before cracking open the door and taking the clothes he left for you. It's a black shirt with a faded metal band logo printed in white, the pants are dark blue and denim. They're definitely going to be too big and baggy for you, but you wear it anyway.

You tighten the waistband of the jeans to fit you better, and you come out, hair wrapped in a towel. You walk down the stairs, damp feet pattering against the wooden floor. Daryl's still sitting on the couch, but in a more lounged position. You sit close to him and take a breath.

You begin to speak. “Um... this might be a little weird, but to me, you feel like a father." You tell him, and his eyes widen. But he looks touched. "We just met yesterday, but it feels really comforting to be around you." You twiddle your fingers, looking a little embarrassed. But Daryl smiles. It’s subtle, but there’s still a smile on his face.

"Tha's awfully sweet." His voice is softer than you've ever heard before. "I've never had a little one of my own, always kind of wanted to, though. I just don't think i'd be a good dad."

You smile at him, chuckling. "I think you would. You sort of have this really fatherly presence. It was unusually easy for me to warm up to you." You shift close to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You smile more. "Maybe I could be your little one. You can like... adopt me, or something."

Daryl chuckles again. "We'll see, kid. We'll see."

You look up at him and then go back to snuggling. You curl up beside him, getting so very comfortable. You feel safe in his embrace, you never want to leave.

“Can we see maybe… now?” You ask in a playful way, looking up at him again. Daryl looks down at you with a slightly wider smile, shaking his head.

“Well, I-… yeah,” he sighs. “Alright, yer gonna be my little one. I’m never gonna let anything happen to ya.” He holds you a little tighter. “I might not be the best daddy, but I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

spreading my oc propaganda muahahaha

if he were real hed become a prominent side protagonist sometime in race to the eiffel tower or somethint i unno

self indulgent art down below. beware

Im giving Viggo a child again

Shoutout to the outfit I got inspired by

Congratulations Viggo for your 3rd child created by me

Hello tumblr, meet some of my kids

Been a hot minute hasn't it! College kicking my ass at the moment, I offer some older concept sketches, got a few to post from back when I watched Way of the Water

cowbutt

New fanfic!!!

5 times Daryl should have known you were little and the time he found out.

Chapter 1 - Can’t sleep

In the apocalypse, most of the littles have died, but you've managed to survive by repressing your littlespace and convincing your group that you were a neutral. Although, there were times you could hardly keep your headspace at bay. What happens when you catch the eye of a certain rough-voiced caregiver?

Sophia had been missing for three days, and the tension on the farmstead had become palpable. Arguments had broken out, petty fights motivated by the heat, the fear, and the uncertainty of the apocalyptic summer. You could hardly stand all the yelling and the endless feeling that something was wrong. All of it just made you desperately wish you could cuddle up to one of the resident caregivers, let your headspace take over, and be lulled away from all of it.

But in this new world, you had to adapt to survive and being little was not an option, no matter how much your body craved it. You knew you had to regress at some point, you were just hoping you could fight it off until you found a surpressant or something to keep your regression in check.

inhale, exhale you reminded yourself. It would all be okay once this problem was solved. Your newfound family had a safe place to stay with the Greenes, and you were slowly making friends with the more difficult group members. Namely, Daryl.

You knew there was a sweet guy under all that gruffness and redneckism, and you watched him protect Carol and tirelessly search for that little girl, and you hoped he would warm up to you. Whenever you were around him, you little side betrayed you as your headspace crept up on you. You knew Daryl was a caregiver, but if anyone found out your status, especially him, you didn't think you'd ever live down the embarassment. You were the only little since Amy had died, and you were determined to not let it become a burden. So, as far as anyone knew, you were neutral.

Night fell on yet another unsucessful hunt for Sophia, and as everyone crawled to their sleeping places in Hershel's living room, Daryl was unnacounted for. This worried you, and you had an incredible urge to make sure he was okay, to ensure his safety (and yours) by having him crawl into your sleeping bag beside you and falling asleep wrapped in his arms.

Okay, maybe that last part was more controlled by your littlespace than you'd like to admit. Still, his absence worried you.

"Where's Daryl?" You asked to no one in particular.

"Don't worry too much about him," Rick muttered softly. "He can take care of himself in the woods at night."

You were unsatisfied with his answer, but there was nothing you could do to change it. So, you laid down in an attempt to fall asleep and forget about it.

Your efforts were unsucessful, however, and you ended up tossing and turning for hours on the hardwood floor. Moonlight moved through the small household, and as the night wore on Daryl was still nowhere to be found.

Finally you gave up, choosing instead to sit by the doorway and wait for him. You could feel yourself slipping, and for once you were too tired to fight it. The combination of exhaustion and anxiety took out all your will to fight. Your thumb found its way into your mouth as you waited, anxiously gnawing at your nail.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Daryl made his way into the living room, crossbow strung over his back and a defeated look on his face. When he saw you staring at him from the floor, he stopped in his tracks.

"Waddya doin down there?" He asked softly. "Doncha' got a sleepin' bag or somethin'?"

You quickly yanked your thumb out of your mouth and stood up slowly, joints protesting the movement after hours of sitting on the floor.

"Couldn't sleep," you whispered, looking anywhere but his eyes.

"Ya don't gotta wait for me or nothin," He crossed his arms and looked at you quizzically. When you didn't respond, he sighed and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "'Salright man, I'm here now."

You both walked back to your sleeping spots, Daryl keeping an eye on you until he was sure you were asleep. Something about that interaction felt odd to him; soft. He vowed to himself to keep an eye on you, just in case.

also available on ao3!

"The Vampiric Bloodletter"

"Out of all the dragons I've seen and studied, along with the one's I've only heard of in passing conversation, the Bloodletter wasn't one I thought truly existed. Tales of a bright red dragon with ten eyes that drank blood...? Seemed too much like an old story to scare children but it seems this nesting year at the colony has proven me wrong.

I noticed the new egg amongst a clutch of Monstrous Nightmare eggs, an odd oblong shape with a dark red shell amongst the pale orange-pink eggs certainly stood out. Moving the egg wasn't an option so I left it. Come hatching day I kept a close eye on the nest, only to find an entirely unique dragon to hatch with the Monstrous' brood. At first I figured it was a case of hybridism but that theory was dropped quickly, after all just one hybrid offspring in a nest of six didn't make sense. Not to mention the tiny-tooth's features, ten eyes that all were a dark black, unique extra digits that I assume are opposable to a degree and a notable blade on the end of it's tail.

So I can conclude that the Bloodletter is in fact a living and breathing dragon species, a colony or nest parasite from what I can tell but also it's behavior is still unique. From what I have observed the nestling has been acting like a Monstrous Nightmare, mimicking their vocal calls and behaviors which is fascinating. For now I see no need to try and relocate the dragon, nor do I think it's surrogate mother would allow me and I personally would like to keep my good record with her.

This will at least give me time to study it and hopefully pull together some proper information, since I fear the number of these dragons may only be in single digits... I've also noted while looking through some other old local legends that the Bloodletter shares some shocking resemblance to the few descriptions of the Lycanwing... I can't help but wonder if they're connected somehow, but that's research for another time." - Excerpt from "The Nature of Dragons", an extensive series of books and journals by a man named Salamander.

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Class: Mystery

Size: 6 to 7 feet tall, with a wingspan of 10-11 feet at Broadwing stage - Titanwings are roughly 12 to 14 feet tall with a 20-22 foot wingspan.

Preferred Food: Dragon blood or incredibly fresh meat along with specifically certain organs of most creatures.

Status: Critical - Maybe only a handful of individuals exist on the surface world, that or they are just really good at staying away from people.

The Vampiric Bloodletter is noted for it's vibrant colors and unique features that assist with defending itself and securing it's specialized diet, due to the low amount of sightings and encounters little is truly known about them by humans. They are parasites in truth, spending a lot of time in flocks or colonies with other species so they can feed easily and also mimicking the dragons around them in terms of mannerisms for survival.

Their numerous eyes negates any blindspot they would normally have, along with this a forked tongue and heat sensing pits along their upper lips makes for the perfect tracking equipment. They have opposable digits on all their limbs that are topped with claws that are much like switchblades, used for further opening the bites they leave on other dragons or for defense - same to be said about the blade on their tail.

It's vibrant coloration is a classic animal warning system of "I'm toxic, stay away!". Seeing as they possess a highly potent venom which actually changes throughout their lives.

Tiny-Tooth to Shortwing: They can use this venom as a projectile to blind much like spitting cobras and generally deter threats to them. It's noted that it also stings if it makes contact with human skin. It has mild anticoagulant properties when administered via a bite along with slight numbing, think vampire bats.

Broadwing: The venom glands develop fully, producing a highly anticoagulant hemotoxin that causes numbing and disorientation even causing dragons to become incredibly drowsy. In humans it causes severe hallucinations, supposedly making one think that they're turning into a dragon.

Titanwing: Not much changes aside from more potency and the ability to even render some dragons unconscious for a certain amount of time after being bitten. Though at this stage they can afflict humans with something much worse, it's unknown how exactly it works but if a human is bitten by a Titanwing Bloodletter there is a chance they will be afflicted with the curse that is becoming a Lycanwing - if they survive the initial bite and the first shift that is...

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WOO! Done at last!!

The Vampiric Bloodletter is one of my very few fanmade httyd species and I love how they came out!! Also if you couldn't tell these guys are my explanation for the Lycanwing legend, basically these guys are the ones that turn people to Lycanwings and somewhat go off of the description of the one in the story told by Gobber in RTTE. I have some more notes on them so uh if anyone has questions I will gladly elaborate on my fellas!

Also I will say: Anyone is free to make one of these fellas just please credit me! The lineart of the image is under the cut and can be used as a base.

Concept art of the day! Meet the Grave Singer. They live in the rocky shores that cause a lot of ships to wreck and beach. They tend to nest in the hull of ghost ships and their songs are known across the Archipelago. Legend has it, their cries are those of people lost to sea.