florescere: *is a whole butch, considers self a plague dragon while having nature eyes, inhabits a body meant to reflect them at their most comfortable, has to live in a world that they can't fully connect with the majority of, enjoys presenting in an androgynous way, even if it means wearing armor, and got top surgery while alive*
also florescere, figuring out they've been a trans nb butch the whole damn time:
Draco Malfoy for the ask meme, pleasseee! And maybe, Hermione if you wanna go crazy and do two? If not thats cool too 😎💛
meme
keep in mind i havent read the books/seen the movies in ??? so long
1: sexuality headcanon: gay, lads2: otp: idk i dont really ship draco with anyone i ?? dont think ???? i mean i could ship him w harry in aus pls dont kill me for that answer3: brotp: i, honestly dont know??? ive never thought of draco that much dsghj4: notp: i really dont think i have one? im not the biggest fan of draco/hermione i guess??5: first headcanon that pops into my head: he’s a cat person. like. a huge cat person he loves cats so much6: favorite line from this character: icantrememberanyofhislines7: one way in which I relate to this character: i dont really relate to him gsdfhj8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: his entire existence9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?: problematic fave obviousl y
& ill do hermione too
1: sexuality headcanon: pan2: otp: luna/hermione is some Good Shit3: brotp: harry/hermione!!4: notp: idk again, draco/hermione maybe? WAIT i saw snape/hermione once so that5: first headcanon that pops into my head: you know that post uhh one sec i’ll go find it OK THIS this is the best hermione hc6: favorite line from this character: idontrememberanyofherlineseither7: one way in which I relate to this character: uhh clearly im also The Smart One of my friend group?? *flips hair*8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: nothing?? hermione granger is a perfect human???9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?: cinnamon roll
Florescere: Ah, Banescales! I remember them well, and fondly at that. How wonderful to see them here in the Wasteland. Even being children of flame, they truly exemplify the persevering Plague spirit.
Lovelight: oh yeah. they went extinct for a while
Florescere: ...pardon?
Lovelight: Some Gaolers killed them all. They were fighting during your lifetime, right?
Florescere: Yes, but, they didn't... how... I... they just all died??
Lovelight: you've got a library card, right? look it up. why would I lie to you about something that you can so easily prove
Elysium discovers a statue outside of the cathedral, and questions whether the Sanctuary has gained a new member. (Written as dragons who can become human/“beastly” in-canon.)
———
Part 1:
It had been there since Elysium had first occupied the cathedral, and had been mostly disregarded in that time. The vines which coated its stone form had inspired curiosity in the Pearlcatcher, but some things were better left undisturbed.
They would focus on it most when Mavelle asked about it; she always wondered why it was there, what that overgrown plaque said, and why it was, of all things, a Guardian. Elysium simply responded with the truth- they didn’t know, and couldn’t answer. They told her just to not pick at the vines, and not try to, Plaguebringer forbid, climb on it. And Mavelle didn’t, despite her occasional inquiries about whether Elysium had changed their mind on those rules. Sometimes Elysium would catch the young Guardian sitting by it, playing with her Mith plush and sort of just muttering to it and the statue in that way hatchlings did. And, admittedly, they couldn’t deny that there was an odd energy about the statue. It was what kept them from bothering with it in the first place, knowing an undisturbed spirit was best left as such. Maybe Mavelle could sense that too, a quite literal kindred spirit to connect with. But, surely, Elysium thought, Mavelle couldn’t sense anything more than they could, ghost or not. Doubt still told them they underestimated the hatchling, though, so they simply tried to shift her interest. Unsuccessfully, of course, especially as she only seemed to grow closer to the statue with each day. She began to ask what its Charge was, why it was here, watching, and if she could just… Let it know she was there. She asked Elysium to bring out candles, flowers, anything that the priest had once used to acknowledge her and bring her to the Sanctuary. It wasn’t a terrible idea, Elysium said, and quite sweet, but it wasn’t necessary.
It took forty-seven minutes of Mavelle refusing to speak to them (and holding her breath, though that wasn’t exactly concerning in her condition) for Elysium to give in and start leaving offerings before the statue every night.
They did it day-in, day-out, and Mavelle seemed content to just occasionally observe Elysium doing this. She didn’t even sit by it as often anymore, but Elysium continued regardless. It would always be before they retired for the night, with most Sanctuary residents already gone out, if not just holed up themselves.
It was a full moon (they should have been wary, they told themself) when the first oddity occurred. No new candles or flowers were needed at the time, and Elysium was simply re-lighting whatever had been extinguished from the day’s wind. They’d sat on their hind claws, pearl in their lap, and bent forward to light them all. Nearly half-asleep, they fell back in shock when a terrible stone grinding occurred. Gazing up revealed that the Guardian statue, once sitting and gazing out towards the horizon, appeared to be staring down at the Pearlcatcher. They carefully rose, and, pulling their dropped pearl close, gently nodded and apologized, hardly sure of what was real and what was insomnia-induced, then backed away, keeping all eyes on the statue’s cold, stabbing gaze.
It was the next morning that Mavelle reminded Elysium to keep the candles lit, having seen them all extinguished this morning, and they just laughed out an apology and joked about their forgetfulness and sent the hatchling out with Cascara to buy breakfast somewhere. Cascara happily agreed, but softly reminded Elysium not to overwork themself that late; that Mavelle could light those candles, if Elysium only told her to. They thanked the Spiral for her concern, but insisted the statue was entirely a non-issue. And so Cascara, maybe reluctantly, didn’t bring it up again, not even to others, who didn’t quite share her concerns anyways.
Elysium could barely keep track of the other oddities, not with the newfound frequency they possessed. More occasional glares, flowers blooming and wilting in a moment, candles extinguishing immediately from within, rapid vine growth that would sometimes grip Elysium’s own limbs as they sat or stood. At one point they’d tried to chronicle them, but activity would fade the moment it seemed the information could seep out. Though, something certainly had to be at play, so Elysium kept going. They couldn’t abandon a spirit they’d unintentionally awoken; trying to appease it seemed to be the only solution.
They found themself walking outside with, for the first time, a small pouch of treasure, a couple of gems, and a few wrapped candies, all of which Mavelle had collected and insisted they leave for the stone Guardian. Walking over, they balanced the ajar bag on their pearl, counting the currency within. Seven treasure, seven gems, and seven candies. Something uniform was something thoughtful, they supposed. Shrugging to no one, Elysium slipped the small bag down the side of their pearl, catching it between their claws. They weren’t as tired as usual, a recent call to the hotline sating their mind, but the darkness still beckoned them back inside. Soon enough, they thought.
The vines which had crept across the ground around the statue didn’t lurch for Elysium’s claws, or sting them with thorns; by all accounts, it seemed, strangely enough, too quiet. The energy that the priest had once felt in the area was gone, and, nearly dropping the bag between their claws as they gasped and recoiled, they realized; so too was the statue. Not a remnant remained, only that overgrown plaque and the prior offerings.
They rushed inside, placing the bag beside their bed and grabbing an oil lantern from that same bedside, fumbling with it until it sparked alive. But past the quiet roar of the fire came another noise.
Creaking on the roof. Like someone, some large breed, had landed. Looking up, Elysium could imagine the ceiling swelling down, as if flooded, just about to crash on their back. No, no, they assured themself, the noise was elsewhere. They’d investigate.
So they quietly walked outside, through the creaking door of the cathedral, and looked to the roof, long broken and partially collapsed. Yet beautifully illuminated, absolutely bathed in moonlight, and for a moment Elysium almost forgot their purpose outside before refocusing. Quietly, they spread their wings, ran forward slightly, and leapt into flight. Their robe and all its ornamentations added undue drag, but they hoped it wouldn’t be too long an investigation.
They didn’t bother to land (didn’t dare to, almost, not with how brittle it all seemed), but didn’t find the need to anyways. The powerful, perched form of the Guardian statue sat upon a still-standing spire, somehow not collapsing under its weight, and through its height allowing for the moonlight to frame the statue like a halo. Yet the stillness and impossibility of that figure only struck fear into Elysium’s own form. Especially as, with that terrible, terrible grinding, the Guardian’s head turned and glared once again.
“P… Pardon me,” Elysium choked out, their lantern shaking and confusing the lunar aura about the statue further. As if the statue could hear them, as if this weren’t all some terrible dream. The fear shouldn’t have been so real.
The statue wordlessly stared. Its eyes possessed a new green hue, and the lifelike quality they granted the entire statue only terrified the flying Pearlcatcher further. But if it weren’t for that grinding returning, and the Guardian’s wings stretching out, Elysium may have fled. The sheer soul the movements possessed was enough to convince the priest that what they now witnessed was a living (or once-living) being before them. They calmed their grip on the lantern, and, slightly less shaken, nodded, and said, “Greetings.”
The Guardian stared further, before its jaw, with all the grace of a rudimentary automaton and all the noise of a crumbling relic, slowly creeped open. And from its throat came the booming question; “Who are you?”
Elysium could recall taking two deep breaths then, paralyzed by either fear or awe. “My name is Elysium. I’m the priest of this cathedral-”
“The priest?”
“Yes, I… I came here a while ago, and share the space with a few other residents. I study here, help others…”
The statue regarded Elysium’s eyes and garb for a moment, before its head twisted and it snorted. “You’re a damned hard sell for a priest if I’ve ever beheld one. Never would I presume a Pearlcatcher to reside over this cathedral, much less one who seems to value the material so greatly.”
They awkwardly pawed at their necklaces, their gilded jewels and horns. “You’ve… been here before?”
“Long before,” the Guardian growled, “Far longer before you even knew of it, I assure you. Yet you seem to have made yourself quite at home in my Charge.”
“Your- your Charge! Of course! Sincerest apologies, I had no way of knowing.” An uncertain cough escaped the priest’s throat. “And I certainly couldn’t deny your presence here now. I don’t mean to disrupt your Charge in the slightest, I’ll show you what must have…” They paused for a moment. The Guardian had such a sureness about this location, and about its awakening. More oddities. “…changed.”
The statue stared back out towards the horizon, before shifting its focus towards the moon. “I’ll learn in my own time. For now, I must hope you’ve not disturbed it too far.”
“I promise you, I’ve done nothing-”
The statue’s wings unfurled as if leather, and its swift departure cut Elysium’s words short as the massive stone form disappeared. Out of the moonlight, the priest couldn’t even think to entertain the idea that they’d find it. Less shaken now, but still on-edge, they flew down from the roof themself, finding their footing on top of those creeping vines. Each eye pensively stared at the path it all seemed to form. Following their growth to the plaque once beneath a stone watcher’s perch, Elysium bent down, a swift claw parting the overgrown carving as an opposing claw guided the oil lantern to it.
“So Her eyes may watch and guide our cathedral forever.”
An epitaph. Elysium backed away and rose, heart heavy and guilt growing at the realization. To think they’d not bothered to even look closer, that it had taken a hatchling to convince them to take action. They’d have to sleep on the events. Hopefully, the statue wouldn’t make herself too scarce…
———
Part 2:
“I anxiously await your next call.” Elysium listened, coiling the wire about their claw. “Two weeks? That’s… quite the wait, but I’ll be patient.” They paused to take in the laugh on the other side of the line. Not lilting, but hearty, mildly rasped from Wasteland exposure. Joking that Elysium was always so serious over the phone. “Safe travels to you,” They remarked, laughing right back. “Bye!”
They hung up the phone then, registering the click more than they had hanging up. Two weeks- they could wait. Maybe the next call would promise a visit to the clan. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it was encouraging enough. They walked out of the nave with optimism, about to detour to their room, when the rattling of something interrupted them. Chains? Old wood, perhaps? They paused, turning to the sound and clutching their pearl a little tighter. The noise was familiar, almost, but still undeniably frightening. Taking a few steps towards the sound, they slowly realized how they recognized it; a locked door. It was shrouded in a fair bit of mystery, Elysium knowing it must lead to some sort of cellar beneath the cathedral, but no one had managed to get the thing open. Not through brute strength, not through magic, and not through any key, since the old mossy chains on it didn’t seem to be fastened by any lock. Any intruder would have given up by now, surely- not that they knew it was an intruder. They sighed, and cautiously walked out of the cathedral, approaching that outside door.
Peering around the corner revealed a, thankfully, familiar, but no less concerning figure. The statue was positioned before the cellar door, sitting and wiping away dust and debris with her claws. Elysium was about to tempt walking forward when those eyes affixed to them regardless, freezing them in place. Only a few of the priest’s eyes turned their attention to those rattling chains, which, at the statue’s touch, fell instantly. But she didn’t open the door, instead continuing her glare. Elysium repositioned their claws on their pearl as they cleared their throat, managing a smile. “We’ve not been able to open that.”
“Now, pray tell, why the hell might that be?” the statue remarked, before opening the great doors and walking through them.
Quickly, albeit nervously, Elysium followed to the edge of the cellar door, observing the room below. Some dust had blown in onto the descending stairs, but otherwise the room was pristine, well-lit even. Lowering their head to see in, they observed the statue putting on old armor, and just as swiftly looked away. Despite that she was a draconic statue, and it was just armor, but… It felt polite. Still, they didn’t hesitate to speak from the top of the stairs. “I don’t think I’ve been properly introduced to you.”
A few moments of silence passed before, from the cellar, came; “You’ve no need for any introductions.”
“Well, I’ve taken up residence in this cathedral, is all, and I’m quite happy to see someone else who cares about it so deeply. I’m afraid no other Guardians share your sentiment.”
“My priorities are of no importance to yourself. I am here to protect this cathedral, not you. Resident priest,” they could hear the sheer resentment rising in her voice, “Or not.” Metal audibly scraped against stone as the final piece came into place, and the statue’s head came into view as she looked up the stairs. “But I still recommend you don’t take my presence for granted.”
“Oh, I- I would never.” They could feel their smile slipping. “It’s just that so few seem to share my interests these days, and that includes the upkeep of this cathedral as a sort of sanctuary. See, there’s several other undead, astray dragons he-”
“So I’ve witnessed.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve not talked to them, and I would presume that none have seen me. Only that girl- Mavelle, I’ve heard.” For a moment, she broke eye contact. “She’s not seen me like this- awoken, and all. But she is concerned that I’m missing; not to mention that she suspects that you may know something, but are sparing her the details. You ought to say something, else I may just have to first.”
Mavelle hadn’t asked about the statue, and the priest didn’t even realize how little mind they’d paid to it. “I’ll be sure to do that,” they half-muttered, questions already racing in their mind. “But- how long have you known what was going on, then? Have you just been… Trapped, all that time?”
“That’s of no concern to you,” the statue blankly stated, walking past Elysium and closing that cellar door. The chains slid back into place, and the statue simply kept walking out into the Wasteland.
They could have pursued the statue, surely, but instead stayed put and watched her departure. “I’m still glad you’re here, though,” they near shouted over the distance. “It’s about time we had someone protecting the cathedral.”
The statue leapt into flight, leaving Elysium to contemplate what else must lay in that cellar.
———
Part 3:
When Elysium next caught the statue, she was in one of the priest’s studies. A repurposed room which once housed only Plague tomes, the study was filled with journals and scrolls of Elysium’s own design. As they witnessed her standing there, tome in hand, beastly and bipedal (yet still retaining grand wings and a tail), they saw it only as courteous to take on such a form as well, regardless of how unwieldy it made their pearl. They only vaguely questioned how a stone form could adapt to such a shape, but disregarded it as a question for another time.
Even softly stepping through the doorway was not enough to dissuade her attention, and the moment they drew near was the moment she affixed those cold, stained eyes to them. Caught, Elysium could only try to manage their most inviting smile and voice to avoid any undue anger. “A-ha, my apologies. I see you’ve… found my research. It’s all a bit disorganized, I’m afraid, but-”
“These writings are all your work, correct?”
Nervous, but with a slight sense of pride, Elysium simply maintained their smile and raised their voice slightly. “Yes, yes! From years and years of study, even before I knew I was doing it. Before theology was even an- an ever-itching thorn, in my tender curiosity…”
The statue wordlessly looked back to the tome and turned a page, brow furrowing with the soft grinding of stone which accompanied even her slightest movements. The top corner of a page crumpled between her fingers as her grip hardened like the growing anger in her voice. “You speak of unwavering entropy, the rise of the once-deceased and some… some resulting cataclysm you dictate as an undefiable truth.”
Even as, perhaps, a misguided excitement rose in the priest, they withheld their enthusiasm. “Yes, precisely. Obviously you’re, aha, well-versed in these sorts of things…”
The sour mucus of a poor memory began to stick in Elysium’s throat as the statue’s glare cut them short. “You expect me to believe this? Trust your judgment and your care for this house of pestilence when this…” She sputtered for a few moments. “Drivel coats the walls and shelves of a home I hold so dear?”
“It’s not drivel, it’s- it’s truth! Your very existence now only proves that-”
The book slammed shut with a violent crash as the statue shoved it away and approached the priest. “No. You have awoken me, nothing else, and now you must heed my words. Never in my life would I have allowed such a creature of blaspheme to inhabit my cathedral, and it is by far not in my risen state that I will begin to allow it.”
Elysium stepped back, fear rising fast, jolting their spine and clutching their mind as tightly as they now clutched their pearl to their chest. “I am only granting poor souls sanctuary- isn’t that what you’d want?”
“Sanctuary? Sanctuary? Is that what you call your selfish occupation? Is that what you’ve told to your occupants, what you’ve said to withhold your true intentions? When you speak of guiding Emperors by your own claws, when you speak of an apocalypse as if your live soul would survive among the dead- somehow you expect, at your mere spoken word’s behest, for me to believe that you are a creature of charity? I believe the word we have for dragons who masquerade in such a way is demons.” Elysium’s maw sat agape in protest, but the statue granted no such chance for rebuttal. “And now, you preach of my desires as if you know me! You respect my form but not my mind, not my soul, not my life, and expect me to sit as your waiting pawn because you’ve claimed my own possessions and preach yourself as a savior for awakening me!”
As Elysium backed up further, looked through the doorway for a single witness, the statue didn’t hesitate to rush forward, grip their robes in a stony fist, and slam the false priest’s back against the harsh stone floor. She watched as every eye on that wrongly diseased face darted about, though a few focused on the now rolling pearl. As she planted one knee against their abdomen, watched that gold-flecked black mucus bubble up from the Pearlcatcher’s throat as they coughed, pleaded, cried, her preserved tail knocked the pearl far out of either’s reach. Her other hand gripped Elysium’s jaw, commanded their focus as she screamed now. “Never in your life could you imagine my cathedral in its prime! Never could you imagine a true priest carrying a budding egg through its doors, acting through compassion for an abandoned child of Our Pestilence’s sister, who acted against all instinct to protect the child, gave her the name Florescere, raised her and cultivated her like a godly illness.” Even as Elysium’s coughing subsided, they shook, kept glancing to the doorway. Somehow, it didn’t seem like praying would help. Especially as Florescere’s fingers just further dug into their jaw’s soft flesh, threatening to shatter bone. “Never could you imagine being afflicted since childhood, feeling vines occupy your lungs, stiffen your chest.” Her knee dug in further. “Never could you imagine clinging to your cathedral as if it were the mother you lacked. Never could you imagine dying, but knowing you’d served that mother with all the love and devotion you possessed, knowing you could watch over her forever. And never could you imagine being awoken from that eternity-” She leaned down, staring further into those undeserving eyes. “Only to see some bug-eyed, nonsensical bastard had defiled her.”
Elysium didn’t know why she didn’t kill them right then. In the silence following, their mucus rolled down their cheeks as Florescere just kept them pinned, fists shaking as her grips tightened more, as if some lifelike resistance still persisted in her body now. It wasn’t until Elysium, with the loudest, faintest utterance they could mutter, simply whispered a “Please,” that Florescere let go, and stood. The priest sat up immediately, coughing that mucus into shining specks on the floor. Weakly, they looked up at the Guardian staring down at them. She growled out one last time before walking out, “If I were living, I’d have spat on you. The most I could hope for now, besides your well-deserved death, is for you to realize that the Plaguebringer won’t take pity on you. Not in your life, not in your death.”
Elysium collected themself for a moment before crawling across the ground to their pearl. Taking their draconic form again, they carefully ran their claws over the, thankfully, undamaged pearl. They gracelessly spit whatever mucus still dripped from their throat onto it, and wiped the leaked residue from their jaw with their robe’s sleeve.
Florescere walked through the pews nigh aimlessly, trying not to look at their desecrated forms. Some were rearranged, others broken if they weren’t coated by debris or dust from the ceiling, all entirely stripped of the beauty they once possessed and the cleanliness that once showed off that hand-carved craftsmanship which had given them so much character. And that was all ignoring the yellow sunlight which streamed through that broken ceiling, illuminating the room in a depressing, monotone palette, rather than the bright, prismatic kaleidoscope which the grand stained windows once breathed life into the nave with. The walk to the doorway had never seemed so long, so suffocating, and yet Florescere had walked that stretch since her hatching. But reaching the door… In life, in a more secure time, Florescere would’ve broken. She’d entered through the doors after awakening already, yes, but not with this absolute resentment. The way the door creaked open, hinges all but snapped, something once so carefully maintained and entered by dragons who knew what they stood for and why they entered- now decaying and broken. So instead of looking back, she looked to the sillhouette of a clan where empty sky had once been, and could feel a shivering, stinging blur in her eyes. If she was living, she’d have cried. She knew it, almost wished she could have managed it now, out of sight and alone. But she was standing now, walking now, stone-faced and commanding the world to listen. In life, she’d never have left her cathedral while knowing it was in those undeserving claws, and not knowing where she was headed. But she’d read plenty, heard tales of the clan from Elysium’s observations, listened in on conversations as she snuck about the clan.
I've actually not bred any of my dragons yet!! And I'm too lazy to check through my dragons, so... Hela is my progen, but in lore she doesn't have any siblings.
27. Who are your lair’s hottest studs?
GOD you are speaking my language. let's talk about who's just so very cool and sexy. also I'm going to rate them. LONG POST AHEAD
1) Úlfr. Big. Strong. Actually kind of awkward and really nice when you talk to him, though he can really tease back if someone is looking to cause trouble. It's pretty well known that the head of the guards is a handsome dude, even with his big old wolf cloak covering half his face. 15/10, would treat you right, pay for dinner, and let you touch most of his scars.
2) Haemon. Everyone wants a piece of this damn man!! (Lucky them, cause he's pan.) Too damn sexy for his own good!! Himbo supreme, but mostly cause his emotions and love get in the way. Still rocks some of his old rockstar charm, and has a big heart-shaped bed if you want to stay the night... yeah, there's no twist about him being nervous or anything, if he feels a real connection he doesn't mind moving fast. 12/10, down for anything, has a great sense of fashion and might sing for you, but he does accidentally take wine naps sometimes.
3) Archangel. She's like, accidentally sexy, is the thing. Didn't start putting in that much effort, getting comfortable in her own skin, and getting super confident until she got in a relationship, so unfortunately she's unattainably attractive. No getting past her wife, Archie's claimed, gals! She's got a sort of quiet, confident, old butch swagger, and when she's performing, the only change is that confident swagger gets loud. She's very much a baby's first butch crush. 8/10, hot from a distance, hot up close, but not much of a talker and she's already married.
4) Glaistig. What, can't a feminine gal be a hot stud? The unintentional causer of many a heartbreak, Glaistig's a gal that knows what she stands for- one night stands for, that is. Don't get too caught up on the details, cause Glaistig's close watch has already taken note of all of them for you. 9/10, they call her the witch of love for a reason.
5) Ennui. A sexy, brooding, nocturnal architect... Calm yourself ladies, she's already interested in you. She falls in love at a pinprick, but bounces back just as quick. She's got so many unsent love letters you could paper-mache the cathedral she lives in. 5/10, has a propensity for giving oddly deep hickies, and won't make eye contact with you in public, but damn if it wasn't worth it.
6) Florescere. Another reclusive Guardian from the cathedral, but this one plays a little harder to get. You know those rock-hard abs and chiseled features must hide some tortured, artistic soul... Probably. They can wear the hell out of a pair of jeans like only a butch can, but the extent of their stud-ness just about extends to being eye (rock) candy. 7/10, probably won't date you, is made of stone so there's that, and seems to have some baggage. sexy, sexy baggage.
7) Skjöldolfr. Two words: hot cowboy. He's got a bit of heartbreaker swag, but he doesn't mean to hurt you darlin', honest. He probably wouldn't have such an issue if he weren't traveling around so much. 8/10, his name is hard to spell, he'll love you, but he's still on a schedule.
8) Domhnull. He's supremely tall, and probably not actually that hot, but maybe in a certain light. A legitimate himbo- the man is a goddamned idiot. He's got a motorcycle, and you can be his Hell's angel, baby. (he doesn't know what that means, it just sounds biker-y.) 5/10, hope you like a greasy biker 'stache, cause he doesn't wash his hair.
9) Qilin. Two faces, but only one for kissing- it's just an anomaly in his SHH (sonic hedgehog, yes, look it up) protein, don't worry, he does just fine. He's definitely got a dilf look, rugged, handsome, and just a little bit older, but also all the unfortunate downsides of actually kind of being a dad. 6/10, would talk your ears off about the Plaguebringer, and might already be taken.
GOD HFJMNHM I'm imagining Florescere seeing Lovelight in the clan just being like "what the fuck. what the fuck. I... you were... how the FUCK are you not dead or aged in the slightest what the fuck. why are you alive"
23. Who is your favourite dragon that you got for free?
bold of you to assume I remember which dragons I got for free. but uhhh
Probably Vela? I don't bring her or her gfs up often, but I do really like them. Also, I'm kind of proud of how nice her bio looks... I got her for free from the Writer's Rescue, so I just had to write lore to get her!
32. What is your favourite item on FR and why?
reach into your local pond and you will find a friend and a boy
I'll try to go by most varied, so...
self explanatory
36. What is your favourite tertiary gene?
crackle...
(maybe partially cause so many people fucking hate it)
41. Post a picture of your most colourful dragon.
Acantha, including her outfit? I probably have some more colorful dragons on their own, but Acantha definitely seems the brightest.
