my little raptor

amethystwereraven  asked:

Hi, are you still accepting other people's dragon OC to turn them into NightWings? If you are, can you do one for my OC Silverscales? I'll send you the ref if you're still open to it.

Yes, I was -lol- and sorry for the lighting X”D, but here you are ^^ I really hope you enjoy it!!

I do not own SilverScales, she belongs to @amethystwereraven.  

How Can I Help - Owen Grady x Reader

Request from sillyglittermaker: Hey ! Can you possibly do an imagine where Owen fin out that the reader deal with depression and anxiety ? And so fluffy ? Please :3 Love you !

A/N: Obviously this deals with anxiety. I wrote more towards that because I have more experience with that and only wanted to write to what I know. I hope you enjoy. I’ve missed writing these and it felt great to get back at it. Thank you my little raptors. 


Your leg was shaking. You simultaneously knew that it was, but also had no idea. The constant movement of your body comforted you, gave you a distraction. But ultimately, it was never enough.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Someone was saying your name through the fog in your head.

“Uh, yes.” You looked up across the conference table at the men and women in suits, from some corporation you had piles and piles of notes on back in your office. Except now, you couldn’t remember anything about them. Your eyes twitched towards the exit. Your legs begged you to take a step toward it. But you remained rooted where you stood.  

“Your boss, Claire Dearing? We had a meeting scheduled with her this afternoon.”

“Right.” You glanced around. Claire was never more than a few minutes late. “I-uh. I’m not-“

“We’re on a tight timeline here, Ms.”  

“Of course, of course.” You voice cracked, betrayed you. You dug deep inside yourself. Pushing through whatever anxiety was causing you to fail at your job today. Whatever issues were holding you back. “Can I offer you some coffee or tea while you wait? She should be arriving any moment.”

You nodded politely as a chorus of grumpy “No thank yous” sang out from the other side of the conference table. And just in that moment, the doors swung open and Claire walked through.

“Welcome, to Jurassic World.”


“What happened in there?” Claire’s voice screamed over the other line. “That’s not like you, (Y/N). To let me almost miss a meeting like that.”

Your chest. That pressure was back again. And it wasn’t so much the appearance of it that made it worse. It was knowing how long it would be there. Hours. Maybe days. Even after you’ve calmed yourself down, you knew that the dull ache and pressure sitting on your chest–like a tiny yet heavy monster, claws dug deep into your chest, it’s weight hanging on you–wouldn’t leave. Not for a while. It would sit there, reminding you of every moment you’ve ever questioned, from the tiniest of decisions to the very moment when you left everything you ever knew to move to an island to work with dinosaurs.

It was laughable.

But then you met him.

“Claire, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” You said into the phone. Praying your voice sounded more confident than you felt. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.” And the other line clicked dead.

That fog was rolling in again. Threatening to take over your brain.

“(Y/N).” He said from the other side of your tiny kitchen. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your hands were shaking as you put your phone down on the table. If Owen saw, he didn’t say anything. He gently crossed the tiled floor and wrapped his arms around you. He took over your senses. The way the hair on his arms tickled yours, the scruff on his face scratched at your smooth skin. His clothes, smelling slightly of the raptor pen, always smelling slightly of the raptor pen. The cool leather of his work vest on your exposed arms.

“No.” You said, feeling the fight fade out of you.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.” Owen said. “You can always tell me anything.”

“No.” You whispered. “I just..” No matter Owen’s presence, you still felt that familiar weight on your chest and the fog rolling in. “I just can’t. I need-“

“What.” Owen’s hands dropped from your side. “You need what. To go into your room and not emerge til Monday? You’re going to replay the week over and over in your head and obsess about every detail? What. Is that what you’re going to do?”

It was your worst fear. That even your relationship with Owen would be destroyed by your inability to function.

“No!” You cried out, clutching at the thing on your chest that was invisible to everyone but you. “Owen.”

Immediately, concern and regret crossed over his face, his emerald eyes softening. “Please, talk to me. Help me understand. I just want to understand.”

“You won’t. You can’t.”

“I was in the Navy, (Y/N).” He placed his hands on your shoulders, sliding them down to where your hands were pushing on your chest. You grasped onto his hands, holding them close to your heart. “You’d be surprised.” He kissed your temple. Then the other. “Talk to me.” He paused. “If you want.”

You took a deep breath. “It’s like,” You whispered, “It’s like, I feel like my heart is racing but it’s not. And, and–I feel like my mind is racing, but it’s not?” You could see him trying to understand as you spoke, and comfort washed over you. He wasn’t leaving. He was listening. “And it’s like I feel like my heart is stuck, but it’s not. And I feel like my thoughts are stuck but they’re not. It’s both like I can function normally but I can’t at the same time. And all of this starts happening at once and I feel trapped.” You let out all the air you hadn’t used while you spoke. Deep breathes. Those were supposed to help, right?

“And I just feel like no one understands and it’s like–” You wiped the tears that escaped from you eyes. “I know this happens differently for everyone else and it just feel so lonely.”

You had never voiced all this before. You didn’t know you could. You didn’t know that there was anyone on this island that would listen.

But Owen was listening. He would have this entire time.

“What helps?” He asked. “How can I help you help yourself?” He brushed a few stray hairs out of your face.

No one had ever asked you that before.

“I don’t know yet.” You kind of laughed at yourself, using your sleeve to wipe at your nose. “I wish I did.”

“Well maybe,” Owen leaned down, his lips meeting yours. Everything about him washed over you again, his scruff, his scent, his strong arms wrapped around you pulling you tightly into him. “We can work on this, together?”

He looked at you, with such earnest. You knew in that moment he would never leave you. He would never judge you for this.

“You want to go lay down for a while?” He said. “Would that help? Maybe take a nap?”

You laughed. His trying was so adorable, comforting and warm, that you couldn’t help but laugh in spite of the snot running out of your nose.

“Sure.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “But maybe we don’t have to take a nap.”

anonymous asked:

1 Utah-raptor is almost if not 6 feet or taller. Who would win? a Utah-raptor or raptor squad?

Listen, you could give that Utahraptor a machine gun and a suit of armour and I’d still say Raptor Squad will kick its ass. Raptor Squad could take down the Terminator. Raptor Squad could demolish Optimus Prime riding Grimlock. 

My tiny precious little raptor squad are to me what that spinosaurus was to Joe Johnston. That is to say, they’re the dino version of shiny level 100 flawless IV hacks. But they’re MY shiny level 100 flawless IV hacks!!!!