Kitterbee #433207. Hi :3 I like dragons and stimming. Cringe culture is dead, long live having fun. My heart belongs to Plaguemomma, but I long for a self-hatched Ice primal ;~; He/him, heckin' queer ~ I like and follow from justarandomemptymainblog. (I use Tumblr to follow a bunch of non-FR blogs too and so feel more comfortable with my FR blog being a sideblog than a main) ~ On hiatus rn, Idk how long for.
I have been Distinctly Not Vibing for the past few days, so if anyone would want to share their fave dragons that'd be awesome ^^ Like, whatever dragons you have that most spark joy in you c: Feel free to ramble about 'em too
big cats would look majestic as heck with antlers. this isn't a question i just need someone to imagine it with me.
they would look really cool for about the five seconds it would take them to get stuck in the bushes, and then everybody involved is going to just feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, tell you what
The constant electrical charge that permeates the warm air of the arid savanna acts as an energy boost to this already spry creature. Catching one is extremely difficult.
I'm going to try to add a read more, but Tumblr's not a very functional website so we'll see what happens I guess?
Content warnings: Mentions of blood, implied/mentioned offscreen deaths, overall dark tone. Some might find this disturbing, squicky, or triggering. Please exercise caution, scroll away if necessary, and be kind to yourself <3 This is not lore about particularly nice dragons and I wouldn't want to make anyone feel bad by reading it.
This lore is approximately 500 words long and features some second-person perspective:
It was chaos outside the library. Dragons running and flying back and forth, calling in panic, in confusion, in rage. Our-territory, danger-danger-danger, intruder, who, why, who-dares, oh shit somebody call the boss -
You shake your head to clear the memories and take a moment to scent the air as a curl of wind briefly blows in your direction. It carries the scents of ash, stranger, naphtha, melted-plastic, a cloying sweetness, burnt flesh, blood.
The ground shakes. Heavy pawsteps.
"Who did this?" Commands a voice. Deep. Resonant. "Show yourself." A lumbering shape moves across your vision in time with the ground-shudders, where you hide, as ordered, in the shadows of the tall library building.
A Skydancer emerges from the darkness several taillengths from you. Black-bodied with a hard shiny carapace like an insect, pink of wing and feather and mane, elaborately dyed to resemble a skeleton. Her eyes gleam large and blue and she oozes confidence underneath her bright pink goggles.
She walks calmly into a shaft of moonlight, and, settling on her haunches, brings up her front paws to show them empty. Her lurid pink wings rest loosely at her sides, and her head is respectfully turned away from the burly Gaoler looming in front of her. I am not a threat, her whole body says. I mean you no harm. But her white jacket is stained with fresh blood and soot, and her eyes are bright and they are cold.
"I'd apologise for dismantling your guards," she announces, "but, ah...." She gazes disdainfully behind her at the barely-visible charred remains, briefly flicking the tip of her tail in disgust, "Clearly they just weren't up to the job."
The Gaoler is, for a moment, as silent and unmoving as stone, save for the ruffling of his thick fur in the night breeze. Then, "Do you have a death wish, little bird?" he rumbles. The many never-blinking eyes along his sides and tail observe the dragon before him, calculating and shrewd, belying the bored tone of his voice. "There are far less painful ways to die than by wronging the Academy; perhaps you could take a swim in the Wyrmwound, or be torn apart by rabid Mirrors. Who are you and why did you see fit to kill my lookouts?"
(He could have this strange Skydancer eliminated with a single command; Mirrors and Bogsneaks and Nocturne lurk in the shadows, yourself included, a faint hissing the only indication of your presence; or he could simply crush her under one of his great shaggy paws.)
"I hear y'all are recruitin' brains that're up to no good?" It's not a question. The small dragon makes bold eye contact, dropping her paws to the ground with a barely-audible thump. "You could use me," she continues, "I know an awful lot about alchemistry. There's been a lot of chatter as of recent, O' Ancient One." She grins. The light catches on the edges of her teeth. (Curious despite yourself, you creep closer, just a little, lashing your tail.) "Rumours and whispers, you understand," she adds in an undertone. "But there's a common thread through them all: the Academy is open." Her voice is soft, lilting, gentle almost - but her teeth look sharp. Very sharp. "Consider this my application."
What if Flight Rosing dragons with colors and patterns of actual birds? Like Blue Jay Spiral?
oh my god anon, same brain!! if there’s anything my friends know about me it’s that i Love Birds. i point out every pigeon i see on the street and i’m not even kidding
Azizi awakes from a bad night’s sleep only to be greeted by a bad headache and worse memories.
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This is the follow up post to Pink Martinis! Just as a prewarning warning this one has some themes of abuse. Nothing too detailed or egregious mind you, but regardless I want to mention it because as a survivor of abuse myself I understand that themes like these can be triggering. The next post will be of a pretty average night in The Fang so I can introduce more characters and what have you! So if you want to sit this one out, I completely understand.
Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions as well as some themes of abuse and language.
Pinging @fusefr because they asked to be!
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Last night he drank too much again.
He wakes up with a pounding headache, the bruises across his knuckles and around his thin wrist an uglier shade of purple than the night before. Azizi won’t bother with bandaging them up; it would only get in the way of his work and he’s suffered worse than this. For all of his bluster, that man toppled like a house of cards last night and the memory brings an impish smile to his face.
“…. Tch, what time is it?” Azizi murmurs under his breath, feet hitting the floor with a soft grunt.
can I get a sorl either doing something she doesn't normally do or wearing a funny hat please :) (I guess wearing a funny hat is something she wouldn't normally do though)
Sorl never needed to cook growing up, and even though she’s been on her own for a little while now, she still isn’t very big on actually preparing anything, and has little interest in ever making things for others...but she might interested in impressing a certain tundra ;)
That hat was a gift from Reuben and Mirim. This is her first time wearing it.
She reminds me of spending a pleasant day at a sandy beach or smth? She doesn't have a name but I'm thinking something along the lines of "Seashore" maybe. Anyway I'm love her she's gorgeous <3
