I reblogged this last month, tagged it, and said “might as well see if it works.” I used this video as a reference to find all the forms that i needed (which is A LOT, especially if you’re a dependent) and sent them through the mail, not really allowing myself to hope.
dude.
$2,714 of medical debt from my top surgery - gone. im shaking this was such a weight on me for 2 years and it fucking worked. what the fuck.
So Tenzo and Naruto both technically have Hashirama's chakra right? What if Naruto could tell? And then he assumes they're related because other people with similar chakra are related.
Idk if you can tell but I used a completely different brush for the lineart and it was so frustrating. I applaud all you artists out there who always use a brush with little to no pressure sensitivity because my brain was leaking out of my ears. It's so much harder to hide my bad line work this way.
Ehehe Tenzo is totally fair game since Tsunade didn't do anything about him.
I'm just imagining a wee little Naruto being So Excited when one of the Animal Guardians around him Feels similar to him the way no one else in the village does. Everyone else had family or clan or just other people they were similar to and Naruto has nobody and he's all alone and Different. He asked Jiji about his parents and got a non-answer. And then! This Animal Person who is kinda-almost like him appears! And this is awesome because the Animal People don't even hate him!
He wouldn't be all that phased by the refusals at first because Tenzo tries to let him down gently, but I imagine even Naruto would get the message eventually and it would be so sad.
Then Kakashi would figure out what's going on (descifering Naruto-isms is a challenge, especially since Naruto doesn't know other people can't Sense what he senses) and then he gets confirmation from another sensor. Lo and behold! They have freakishly similar chakra! Even though they couldn't possibly be related!
While elders are floundering over genealogies (Minato's specificaly) Kakashi gleefully takes this opportunity to shove Naruto in the arms of an actual guardian! Who happens to be someone he trusts implicitly, thank god. And the elders can't even protest too much because Moukuton could also keep Kyuubi in line.
Cue domestic shenanigans? Tenzo, the science experiment/black ops child soldier/person who has only ever seen normal family life as a literal murderous stalker now has to raise a child! A really weird child who has cared for himself so far and doesn't appreciate the restrictions of someone who knows Military Discipline and literally nothing else. Poor Tenzo would be so bad at it, but he would dedicate himself with bull-headed earnestness.
Finity I promised myself I wouldn't ramble about this au when I posted it but look at what you did you enabler
Anyway if someone wants to pick this up and write it please send it to me I have too many WIPs to chase another plot bunny
So, if Naruto is a baby sensor utterly convinced his and ANBU Cat's similar chakra means they're related, then it stands to reason he would find ways to sneak in places he shouldn't to spend time with his only family member.
Edit: link to post w/ more about AU, to eliminate confusion
Two years in Resonant’s future, Daemon and the ten-year-old twins are transported, along with their dragons, to canon AGOT a week after the Stark children get their direwolves. Jon and Rhaegar end up in Winterfell, while Daemon shows up in the Vale, and Robert Baratheon is on his way north to ask Ned to be his Hand...
New additions marked in orange. Last updated Nov 30 2025.
Main Story / Narrative
CHAPTER ONE [AO3] Bran Stark spots something strange just outside the wolfswood, and Ned Stark is about to have a very bad day. (7100)
CHAPTER TWO [AO3] Arya and Robb grapple with the revelation that they have two more half-brothers. (5300)
Ficlets
CLAIMANT [Tumblr] An older ficlet of Daemon coming to Winterfell to claim his sons (and his throne). (500)
LIONSBANE [Tumblr] Cersei, believing Daemon to be Rhaegar returned from the dead, shoots her shot. (1000)
REFORGE [Tumblr] Daemon and Jon bonding over swords. (400)
DRAGON DREAMS [Tumblr] Daemon confronts Ned about his original plans to send Jon to the Wall. (750)
BLOOD OF THE DRAGON [Tumblr] Dany meets her new kin. (1600)
ROYAL STANDARDS [Tumblr] Daemon is not pleased with Jon's accommodations at Winterfell. (350)
BITTERSWEET [Tumblr] The Starklings meet the dragons, while Robb reflects on how things have changed between him and Jon. (800)
REUNION [Tumblr] Cat puts the pieces together after Daemon descends upon Winterfell. (600)
HEART TO HEART [Tumblr] Set shortly after chapter 2, Robb seeks solace in the godswood, but it's the wrong Jon who finds him. (1000)
SPECTER [Tumblr] Robert's retinue arrives in Winterfell, and Jaime's ready for some relaxation with a side of entertainment. (800)
REFLECTIONS [Tumblr] "Two dads sitting in a hot tub" aka Ned and Daemon discuss various matters of the realm in Winterfell's hot springs, which is totally normal. (1200)
Lae'zel's character and her entire situation at the beginning of the game becomes so much more funny when you find out she's 22. It makes so much sense. Imagine you're 22 and you're exposed to this dangerous toxin or chemical or something - but not to worry, you learnt that this can be easily fixed, you just need to dial 911 real quick. Common knowledge. Everyone knows that. You learnt that in kindergarten, it's up there with fire alarm drills.
But the people you're stuck with have no concept of modern medicine and when you say "let's go to the hospital" they will say shit like "i think they kill people at the hospital" and "we should ask this swamp lady" or "this guy over there told me about this homoeopathic healer kind of guy but he got abducted" or "this random bard wants to help" and "I'm not going to dial 911 because I don't want the government to know my home address" or "maybe we should consider a deal with Satan". And then a bunch of them KEEP consuming the chemical because it makes them "stronger". One guy might explode for unrelated reasons. You have a few days before this situation is getting critical and suddenly they're solving crime and doing general charity for the community.
And FOR SOME REASON you still try to help these idiots and you STILL want to help them get the cure even though they all keep insisting the "doctors" at the "hospital" might try to "kill them" and they don't have insurance. And you keep telling them to just. go. to. the. hospital. before the time runs out and you all die very horribly of a very treatable condition.
And also you're 22 in a foreign country and you're responsible for shepherding this gaggle of idiots who are all ranging anywhere from 24 to 240 years old.
Just a fun little Daemon/Rhea ficlet from Regnal AU, where Rhea and Daemon have to deal with the indignity of having feelings for one another. Set shortly after Queen Alysanne's visit.
x~x~x
Even Daemon had to admit that the calm that had descended upon Runestone after his grandmother’s departure was an improvement. It was one matter to be a prince of the realm visiting a lord in his holdfast—it was quite another to be in the position of entertaining a royal party. The demands on his time had been endless, to the point where he had found himself missing his sons despite living under the same roof.
Eating supper with only his wife for company in her solar, an arrangement that once would have been the most stilted of affairs, was a relief instead. They hardly spoke, savoring the quiet scrape of knives upon platters, and the slosh of wine in their cups, until they had finished eating.
“How shall we travel to the tourney?” Rhea asked. “The boys should be old enough to fly with you on Caraxes.”
Daemon’s brow rose. His father’s tales of his mother taking rides on Meleys with Viserys and then later Daemon as infants must have finally convinced Rhea that dragonriding wasn’t the terror she believed it to be. Before, she had argued that even at one, they would be too young. Or perhaps she is merely ceding the practicality of such transport.
“There is a second seat on the saddle,” Daemon said, choosing to be gracious in his victory. “We can each take one babe.”
Rhea sat in silence for a moment. “I have not ridden on Caraxes before.”
“We can take a few rides before, so that you are familiar,” he said. His gaze shifted downward, to where her lap would be if the table were not between them. “Is your—?”
She followed his gaze, then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I have been on horseback several times this past moon.”
Dragonback was very different, but not on the nether regions. “It should not trouble you, then.”
“Shall we go tomorrow?”
“If you like,” Daemon said, trying to rein in his suspicion. By his wife’s standards, it was quite a spontaneous request. “Why the urgency?”
“Why delay?” she countered.
“Do you not desire a day of peace after my grandmother’s departure?”
“Is dragonriding taxing? You have always seemed to find a peace in it.” Where once such an utterance might have fallen like an accusation, Daemon could only hear curiosity.
“It can be taxing if there is urgency, but it needn’t be,” he said. Peace was the wrong word; it seemed antithetical to the very nature of a dragonlord. “When I am in the air, I feel—” Free. Elevated above all others, beyond any care in the world. When he had been at his most miserable in their marriage, it had fallen utterly from his mind once aloft. “Alive. Everything is within the realm of possibility.”
“That sounds very freeing,” Rhea said, as though she had heard his unspoken words. “It is not so different on my own rides, earthly though they may be. I can leave my responsibilities behind at Runestone.”
His wife had always seemed so dutybound, a humorless incarnation of the Vale itself, that Daemon had not considered she too might seek respite. He frowned. “I assume I am one such responsibility?”
Rhea rested her chin upon her hand, her gaze upon him one of deep study. “That has not been the case for some time.”
Daemon drained his cup and set it down, telling himself it was the wine rather than the intensity of her gaze that heated his blood. “What am I, then?”
“I do not know yet,” she replied.
His wife had done her hair differently today, he noted, wearing it loose rather than gathered into her customary single braid, or pinned back in austere Vale fashion. It held a slight wave, and the way it framed her face softened the harsh angles of her cheekbones and jaw. The ends came to rest past the bottom of her bosom, which was still rounded and heavy.
“At dawn, perhaps?”
Daemon jerked his eyes back up to hers. “Dawn?”
“For our ride. Is that an opportune time?”
In truth, it was a predawn ride that held the greatest wonder. Watching the sun creep over the horizon from thousands of feet in the air. Seeing the progression of color from the darkest of blues to gentle golds and pinks, and the first fingers of light spread across the landscape, illuminating the tops of houses and trees whose shadows stretched impossibly long behind them. It was as breathtaking as it was lonely.
I have not ridden with another in so long.
Something held his tongue, however, and he offered a stiff shrug in response. “Dawn is as good a time as any.”
“It is settled, then.”
Rhea rose to her feet, smoothing her dress as she did so. She rarely wore this one, one of the few that Daemon actually thought appealing. It held trappings of bronze, like nearly all of them, but merely as accent to the deep, vivid blue of the fabric. The plunge of the neckline was decidedly not of Vale fashion; it was more alike what might be found in King’s Landing. It afforded an opportunity to wear a necklace, which was also rare for his wife, and he recognized it as one of the wedding gifts his grandmother had chosen on his behalf.
The queen was overbearing at best, but Daemon had to admit that her taste in jewels was without peer. The necklace itself was plain in style, a simple chain of gold with a round pendant of flame-orange citrine—well within the modest sensibilities of the Vale. What elevated it beyond such sensibilities was the size of the jewel, near as wide as a robin’s egg and currently nestled at the very top of his wife’s bosom.
This time, Daemon was caught in his staring and he stood as well. “We have yet to discuss the matter of my bedchamber,” he blurted. At the arch of Rhea’s brow, he realized how his words might have sounded. “With the queen departed, that is.”
His grandmother had taken up residence in Daemon’s bedchamber across the holdfast, while he had been moved to the chamber beside Rhea’s.
“You wish to return to your old chambers?” Rhea asked, a slight edge in her voice.
“Is there a reason not to?” Daemon challenged.
There were ample other chambers he could have been moved to during the queen’s visit, including several empty rooms in the very same hall. His wife’s choice had felt intentional, but she had not approached him in that time.
“It hardly seems necessary,” Rhea said. “The difference in size is minimal.”
He had seen his wife dance around a subject often enough to recognize it now, and it was all the more galling that she sought an excuse that would make him seem greedy if he refuted it. “Large enough that you saw fit to evict me for the queen.”
“Does that truly matter so much to you?”
Daemon’s jaw clenched. “You wish to make this about me, when it was you who chose that chamber for me from the beginning?”
Loathsome as he had considered their match, he had done his best by her for their wedding night. He would never forget the long, cold walk moments afterward, when he had been dismissed from her sight with hardly a word. From the very beginning, she was determined that I know my place.
“You are a prince,” she said stiffly. “It was the logical choice.”
“But it is no longer,” Daemon retorted. “And yet I am still a prince.”
“I did not think you still cared about such things, but it appears I was mistaken.” Rhea stalked toward the door, and Daemon moved to bar her path. She stared up at him, eyes hard. “Move.”
“You Valemen pride yourselves on speaking plainly,” Daemon said. “So speak. Why did you move me into the chamber beside yours? And why do you wish for me to remain there?”
Rhea’s hands balled into fists, face flushing as her gaze shifted rapidly from point to point, seemingly unable to settle anywhere on his face for too long. “I am the lady of Runestone, and I command you to move.”
The command lacked force behind it—or anger. Daemon took a single step backward, leaning his entire body against the door. “I am a prince of the realm. If you desire for me to move, you shall have to put hands upon me.”
She grabbed him by both arms, her grip tight enough that he could feel the hard metal of her rings and the press of fingernails, but she did not otherwise try to force him aside. “You are insufferable.”
It was impossible not to peer down her bosom, and when Daemon saw the poke of her nipples through the fabric of her dress, it seemed perfectly natural to cup them in his hands. “So you wish for me to move,” he said, leaning closer. “And you wish for me to stay. Which is it?”
“In all those weeks, you did not call upon me once,” she hissed.
“So that you could send me away after?”
Daemon let his hands drop, only for Rhea to seize his wrists instead to place them back upon her chest. “I would not.”
“You did,” he said, squeezing lightly until another hiss escaped her lips, this one voiceless. “Thrice.”
“I would not,” she repeated, eyes locking upon his. The back of her jaw clenched, and she swallowed. “I regret that I did before. It was undeserved.”
Daemon had regrets of his own, though he knew better than to voice them. I regret that I called you ugly. Rhea’s face was not one of soft, delicate beauty, nor her hair the pale silver of family. Her eyes were a brown that had always seemed common to him, often narrowed in impatience or derision. In the dancing light of the solar, however, he was struck instead by their warmth.
“Is that what you wanted? For me to seek your bed?”
Her deepening flush was answer enough, but he wanted to hear it. “It did cross my thoughts.”
Daemon let one hand wander, moving slowly up the swell of her breast, then along her collarbone, and finally down her back to find the topmost button of her dress. “How often?”
The unsteady motion of her chest slowed, her breaths becoming more deliberate, and Daemon massaged her other breast, determined not to let her wrest back control.
“How often?” he repeated.
“Often,” she said through gritted teeth. “Nightly. To the point of distraction.”
It was Daemon’s turn to feel the flush of blood, and far more difficult for him to hide it. He teased at the button of her dress, fingers brushing the nape of her neck. “You could have asked.”
She spread the palm of her hand atop his chest, and he could feel the heat of it through his shirt. “I placed your chamber beside mine. I wore this gown tonight, and I wore your gift. That is how you Crownlanders speak, is it not?”
“I have grown accustomed to Vale bluntness,” Daemon said, popping the button free at last.
“Very well. I want you in my bed. Tonight, tomorrow, as often as I like.” She grasped his jaw, drawing his lips within inches of her own, her stare fixed upon them. “You drive me to distraction.”
They had kissed once before at their wedding, a dutiful peck that Daemon had endured in silent resentment. This time it was anticipation that made the wait an eternity, neither willing to be the first to broach the distance. They broke within the same instant, the ensuing collision no messier than any other aspect of their relationship.
His wife’s urgency was plain, both in the clench of her grip and the wild abandon of her moans. Daemon worked through her remaining buttons one-handed, his own control holding until she buried a hand in his hair, gasping curses at his beauty. He snapped the loop of the final button, kissed the dip between her breasts, and then hoisted her up by the legs as her arms looped behind his neck.
The top of her dress peeled down of its own accord as he carried her to the rug beside the fire. “When you said you desired me in your bed—”
Rhea’s fingers curled around the waist of his pants, then started fumbling for the lacing. “Do not be smug.”
Ātsiāzma, his human, his human's new tiny humans, and their tiny hatchlings.
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Fanart for @syndrossi ‘s au “Veteran AU” where there’s a giant white dragon, an escaped dragonlord from Volantis, his recently acquired twin brothers, and their recently hatched baby dragons.
(^▽^)
Ooohh this fandom owes so much to @immortalwalnut, they can draw dragons so well, the anatomy, the musculature, the designs.. *dreamy sighs*
In any case, this is my attempt to draw one, *uses my customer service voice* please enjoy the general picture! Don’t look to close at the scale pattern or the shape of the feet, try not to zoom at the delicate horns and don’t think too much about the leather harness!
Mostly I was trying to draw the size difference between the children of Daemon and a creature as big as Ātsiāzma… I tried to use an image of baby Aemond on top of Vhagar as reference… mmmhh.. I think I did mostly right???
(the twins are so tiny… and the dragons are basically just a speck!)
Ātsiāzma!!! *gasp* He's so majestic! As majestic as his name isn't. 😂 I'll have to figure out what the Volantenes called him, because Teriphos would have been far too snooty to accept "Big Tooth."
The colors are so striking, wow. I love love the golden tones to the white/cream of his scales, and the faint iridescence they have to them. But obviously the red steals the show! It's such a great translation of weirwood tree to dragon. I adore how the smaller ridges/fins on his neck almost look like leaves. And his spiky face is both intimidating and so sweet? (The forehead spikes are almost like a crown, and the littler ones like a tiara, I love it!) And the little touches of red around the nostrils is adorable.
That is a great netting design for the saddle, too! I disagree about not looking too deeply at it! (If you're talking about the saddle itself / part that they ride, look, it just didn't fit onscreen obviously!) It gives so much scale to him, even aside from the teeny tiny humans and hatchlings nearly. Like...big dragons are basically ships. The thought of their riders climbing the ropes like rigging is so damn charming, and for Daemon, probably nervewracking for his littles. (I know that Rhaegar is having the time of his life but even I'm anxiously thinking "get down, it's too high!" It's like you said, they need to ride a dragon to get to another dragon's saddle. 😂)
Oh, and of course the ropes are red, how could Volantis resist the aesthetic urge to spend top dollar on red dye for his saddle rigging?
Gah, I'm sorry, I'm so amazed at any artist who can draw a dragon, because they seem so complicated to me! As you said, the anatomy/musculature alone! I TREASURE the toe scales you think should be ignored, I'll have you know!
Also, I like to think that Ātsiāzma's confusion (aka the question mark) comes from "why are there two Jons? one is even smaller wow. and he has another dragon :( why can't I have both?"
Jon's little wave at him is adorable, too. Casually has the largest dragon anyone has seen and never internalized it because that dragon was small enough to hug to his chest as a toddler and he never had another for comparison. Okay, technically he met Dany's dragons and rode Rhaegal, but we'll ignore that for the purposes of this narrative. Half of his memories don't include it!
Bless the hatchlings' restraint in not trying to turn Ātsiāzma into a living terrain to explore/fly around. They have the biggest brother in the world!
(Suddenly imagining a world where the netting and saddle hadn't been such a pain to remove as a precaution against Jon getting any ideas about taking off on his own. His escape attempt would have involved a video-game-worthy jumping/climbing game, up the horns and fins and even larger scales of his face, along his back, to whatever hold he felt the sturdiest.)
This is gorgeous, you spoil us so so much, and I am in awe that on top of everything else you can casually (or not! but it seems casual from our perspective!) draw full-sized dragons too!