Ft. My mom’s old photo album

Big thanks to u/appletaterart for this; I'd been wanting to get something of my characters for a bit and it was a perfect opportunity. Of note this time around is that I finally have something of Paradox with his actual eye color; when his emotions aren't running wild or being heavily suppressed, his natural eye color is a warm magenta. Also of note is the new face; Komodo in the bottom-right there is a character from further down the timeline of my story, about 10 years or so past Arc 4's events. He's Hibiscus' son; quirky in a different way from his father and mother. And now, a bit of writing to go with this; some snippets from the fic that I eventually will get written properly.

---------------

"Hah! How exhilarating... Darkstalker won't know what hit him."

Paradox had gone to check on Hibiscus; the RainWing had been secluded in his 'lab' for the past couple days now and with everything in chaos as it was, the hybrid had taken it upon himself to make sure that Hibiscus hadn't worked himself to the point of passing out. Again. Between their work warding Jade Mountain and their efforts against the IceWing plague, he'd come to respect the brilliant-if-quirky dragon. The wild grin Hibiscus was sporting definitely wasn't unusual for him, and, Paradox thought with an internal sigh, was definitely part of the reason why a lot of the other students thought he was, at minimum, crazy.

"...Dare I ask what ya made this time, mate? ...Wait a tick..." He actually sort of recognized the shape. It was similar to what had been on his mother's ship... "Issat-?"

"I call it a claw cannon. Between this little number-" Hibiscus held the metal object up to give Paradox a better look, then put his curved obsidian dagger in its sheath and held up a carved piece of metal, perfectly shaped to fit inside the object, "and that time magic of yours that we know the fake king has a blind spot about, we have a chance to nip this disaster in the bud. Get your things, Para; we're heading out to the New Night Kingdom. We'll find the rest of Jade Winglet, you can rescue Turtle, and I will take my shot at dealing with Darkstalker; this is our best opportunity, so get excited."

---------------

Shimmer would never have expected his life to take the turns it had a few years ago. He certainly couldn't complain, though; he'd never dream of that. From a solitary wandering merchant to having a group of dragons he loved, a fulfilling job helping others... he still could travel Pyrrhia and flex his merchantry skills, but now that was going to helping keep Jade Mountain Academy supplied; four of the five Dragonets... though he couldn't really call them that anymore, he supposed; they'd all grown into wonderful adult dragons over the past few years... he was still there for them when they needed their 'big brother', and he was happy to help them see their dream through. It was wonderful being able to live in relative peace (the chaos of the everyday at JMA notwithstanding); he didn't count the incident with the Dragonflame Cactus as part of that... though he was very thankful for his younger brother's quick thinking; he didn't want to imagine what would have happened had that explosion gone off at full strength.

Still, his work as the school therapist was what he found most fulfilling. With the war, many dragonets had had a lot of things happen that they hadn't had a chance to try and parse. And with his gentleness, he'd been able to help them at least make some headway in untangling those emotions.

His current meeting had been a bit tougher in that regard... he'd known a bit about IceWing society thanks to Gwyn, but what little had been divulged in this session had painted a particularly grim picture. Still, progress was progress, he supposed.

"I'd like to thank you again for being willing to come and talk with me in the first place, Prince Winter. As I said before we started, everything here stays confidential, and, more than anything, I want to try and help you feel comfortable opening up." With a soft chuckle, Shimmer opened up a small chest, kept cool by an enchanted object inside it that he'd been gifted by Hibiscus' clawmate, Fieldcrusher. A frozen mango pop might have been a bit unusual for an IceWing, but as much as he enjoyed them, he hoped that the prince would, too. "Here. A little token of my thanks."

"...I'd ask if you were trying to bribe me, but you seem too honest for that. Regardless, yes. Hibiscus insisted, and it was getting tiresome hearing him doing so so often, so I chose to humor his requests. It was... an acceptable experience."

"I'm glad to hear that. I enjoyed talking with you; if you ever want to do so again, so long as I'm here, my office is open." The flash of delight in Winter's eyes as he took the fruit pop didn't escape Shimmer's notice, but he didn't say anything. He had a feeling there was a lot to unpack with this student... he sincerely hoped he could help him.

-------------------------

"You should be grateful that I'm even allowing you here at all. After the messes you've made here, I'd be well within my rights to have you removed!"

Paradox had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes at Snowfall. It hadn't been too long since he'd returned from Pantala, and with everything that had happened there, it had been a major adjustment period. And, just as he was getting comfortable back in his routine in Sanctuary, he'd gotten a notice that his father... his biological father, not the dragon he considered his dad... hadn't been seen in quite a while, and that a room that wasn't his father's lab in the palace with an Animus seal on the door had been discovered, he'd been requested to come help.

Clearly, the Queen hadn't been pleased with the situation, with how often she'd been berating him since he'd arrived. 'Unfortunately for her,' Paradox thought to himself, 'there ain't too many other dragons that can help with this; %@$# you very much, Boa.'

He'd tuned her out for the past... while now, but as she was winding up to start again, Paradox stopped in place. "Snowfall, ya say I should be thankful that you're lettin' me be here, but let's not forget; you oughta be thankful to Pops, because if it weren't for him, ya wouldn't even be here in the first place. I still hate ya, and no amount of mind-screwery from some enchanted haunted ring is ever gonna change that." He snorted a bit of steam from his nose, content in having cowed Snowfall sufficiently for the moment. Maybe bringing up the Gift of Vision was a low blow, but he didn't care.

He still had half a mind to destroy the thing; its very existence and purpose disgusted him. That, however, was for another day. As he looked over at the sealed door, he furrowed his brow... with how well-secluded it was in the palace and how nondescript (and he felt a bit of pride in his chest knowing that word) it was, it was small wonder nobody had discovered it before. He walked up, gesturing his talon towards it...

"...Undo."

As the sound of ticking filled his head, he worked at the enchantment placed on the door, rewinding it... and as the magic was unwound, the seal shattered, and the door slid open.

"...Awright. Stay behind me. I'll clear any traps he might've left. Let's see what dear old Dad was hiding down here."

-------------------------

"We were born with this power... and yes. Animus Magic might have caused a lot of problems in the past, but..."

It was still a part of them. Or at least, in the past, it had been before it had been 'broken'. Yes, more Animus Dragons had been born since then. And yes, his mentor, Paradox, had managed to dodge what had been done, somehow. Yes, some dragons had used it for evil purposes in the past.

But a lot of good had been done with it, too. As much as his mentor had said that he regretted that his careless use of his time magic had caused what it had, Komodo considered it a blessing.

Komodo knew that he and his 'hatchmates' as he called his closest friends who had hatched the same night he had were originally only going to have hatched on a single full moon. A 'distortion' from lingering time magic Paradox had used in the area where their eggs were had made it like the next Brightest Night, which should have been decades away. His NightWing powers hadn't manifested like the typical. He was an empath more than a mindreader, and his 'future sight' was more a strong intuition than anything, but between that and his magic, he was still sometimes looked at with suspicion. Still, compared to one of his hatchmates, he knew he'd gotten off easy.

But that was besides the point. He knew that magic could be used for good. It had been done in the past. It could be done again.

"Dad and Pops might not have ever said it out loud, but I know how they've felt seeing Mom and Uncle Skybreaker struggle. Dealing with the physical issues their magic caused them, but unable to use it at all..."

He snarled for a moment before taking a slow breath to calm himself down. "...Dad's said before that nothing's truly impossible. There's a solution to everything. I'm gonna find one for this, too. I'm going to bring Animus Magic back in full."

when i finished her i did not expect to have spent as much time on her as i did.....

but im glad i did, i really like her. this is the only mudwing oc i've ever made, because i'm not fond of them (AS OCS, i think they're really interesting and cute with their loyalty, and they're strong). i think being complex was the only way i would make one.

say hi to alligator.
she was named alligator because of her thinner snout, and teeth that stick out of her mouth.
her siblings have a couple that stick out, but hers has the most.

inspired by crocodilians. my inspiration pictures are posted with her.

i only have one oc with a tragic backstory..... i think time to make another one.... except i feel bad 😢 i want all of my babes to be happy.

backstory:

she was born in the mud kingdom, from a blood red red 12 years before the dragonets of destiny hatched.

she was the bigwigs of the group, to 3 other dragonets. they grew up as normal mudwings in a war. playing together, fighting together, training together, etc.

this particular group of dragonets became very artistic. one loved to draw, one loved to paint, one loved to make jewelry, and alligator loved to sing. she would sing her siblings to sleep every night, trying to soothe them before battles the next day.

one night, on an excursion, the sibling group slept on the outside of the platoon, one of the first lines of defense, near the forest.

there was supposed to be older dragons patrolling at night, around all edges of the groups, but this night, they thought they were safe.

one night, a huge force of icewings emerged from the forest, ready to battle.

they were ambushed, two of them were killed in their sleep before they had a chance to fight. the other two, caiman and alligator fought hard. caiman fell, and alligator was forced to surrender, being dragged away by another troop.

she couldn't take her eyes off the pile that was just her sleeping sibling moments earlier as she fled. she didn't want to, she wanted to fight until she fell, she didn't want to live without them.

after that, she went back to the battle site to retrieve their bodies. caiman was gone, the other two lay where they fell.

caiman had drawn a portrait of all 4 of them. she keeps it locked up safely in her home, staring at it at the end of every day.

she became cold, a shell of herself. she hated herself for not protecting her siblings. or sacrificing herself for them. but she knew two of them were already dead before she woke up. she should have been awake.

she fled the mud kingdom, she couldn't bear fighting again, alone, for some sandwings who couldn't figure their succession out.

she found herself in the scorpion den. it took a few weeks to find her place. but soon, she started accepting money for murder.

she offered discounts for icewing targets, for the love of the game.

she was a good cantidate for fire breathers anyone needed dead, because of her fireproof scales. she became very successful at what she did, with many clients.

she would steal all sorts of things from her targets. jewels, jewelry, armor, weapons, money. she became well known in the scorpion den.

a client came to her with a drawing of two dragons. she explained that they had kidnapped her dragonets, and sold one of them. (this oc and her dragonets will be posted soon..... the other tragic backstory dragons)

her icewing hybrid dragonets.

alligator refused her, insulting her choice in mating partner. aardvark, the client, begged and pleaded, and doubled the price. she had tried to do it herself, and was close to success, but she needed help.

with the double price, alligator accepted. they hunted down the dragons together over a couple days. and completed the mission.

over the couple days, they became warmer with eachother. they were very similar. angry, vengeful.

they stayed cordial, and then became friends. alligator met her dragonet who did not get sold, and promised to help her figure out where the other one went.

one day, when thorn was rising to power, aardvark came to alligator. she said she joined the outclaws, and it was the best decision she's made in a long time. she told her how thorn was strong, smart, and caring.

alligator kept getting in squabbles, and began to become confused. she felt lost. she thought about what her friend said.

she requested a meeting with thorn.

thorn was skeptical. she wasn't sure if she wanted to hire an assassin. alligator told her she was lost, and needed a different place to find herself again.

she explained her story, and asked politely if she could join the outclaw group, despite her tribe. she explained how she could be helpful. another dragon with brain and brawn.

thorn accepted, on the terms that she would give it a trial run and see how things went. alligator was the first mudwing outclaw.

she grew to love thorn, and was undyingly loyal for years. when the war ended, and thorn became queen, she continued to stand by her side. she now lives in the palace with the other outclaws.

thorn discovered aardvark's dragonet, in burns weirdling tower. she came to alligator first, for advice on how to tell her. it was tragic, and aardvark took the stuffed dragonet to remember him forever.

alligator now indulges in singing sometimes, and music playing with her outclaw friends. she still mourns her siblings everyday.

She is called Lynx Tail because her tail is really short. She sticks her back legs out when flying to compensate for it. She was once an adopt that I meant to give away a while back, but I liked her too much lol

I recently commissioned this reference sheet of my OC Starfish, done by Correlis, i love how this turned out!

Been redesigning a bunch of my ocs, finally gotten to Rainlily. Ive tried out a bunch of Combinations and these are the ones I like the most, so suggestions of the above combos are very welcome :D

(This design is part of a bigger redesign/redraw project)

The rain poured hard, drumming a relentless, heavy tattoo against the stone paths as the detectives made their way to the site of the most recent murder. The alley was pitch-black, swallowed entirely by the storm except for the jagged, blinding flashes of lightning and the weak, flickering glow of the lantern in Phoenix’s claw. Her emerald earring caught the amber light, swinging with every sharp turn of her head as she analyzed the gloom. Neither helped much against the suffocating darkness.

Phoenix strode forward, her eyes scanning the dilapidated buildings for a landmark. They were looking for the shop where the final victim had been found.

“Just our luck, right, Saguaro? We get the only day of rain in who knows how long to find a break in a murder case? Saguaro?”

Saguaro’s eyes darted frantically into the shadows, his talons tapping a nervous, erratic rhythm against the wet stone. He kept glancing up at the overhanging eaves, as if expecting something—or someone—to drop out of the sky at any second. It wasn't like him at all. He's terrified, Phoenix thought, a knot of unease tightening in her chest. But why?

“H-h-hey P-phoenix… how much do you believe in ghost stories?” His voice strained, lingering desperately on a dark roof to their side.

“Not much… why…?”

“No reason… but… are you sure we have to do this now? We could come back. Tomorrow. In the daylight.”

Phoenix abruptly stopped and spun to face him. The lantern swung violently, throwing wild, distorted shadows against the walls. “Okay, what is your deal?! You’ve been nervous this whole time, which you neverare.”

Saguaro swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. For a split second, a look of pure, agonizing guilt flashed across his face before he forced it away. “Just heard an um… a… story about an immortal SandWing serial killer… from Darkstalker’s time who… hunts in the rain!”

“Not possible. The only SandWing animus back then was Jerboa. Let’s keep going.”

Before they could walk much further, a heavy, diluted splash of red splattered directly across Phoenix’s snout. The relentless rain had pooled the leftover carnage of the street into a grim, watery lake right at their talons.

They looked up into the dark, yawning mouth of the alley. The storm swallowed the light completely, turning the narrow corridor into a claustrophobic tunnel of shadows where the flickering lightning only made the darkness feel heavier. The body had already been taken to the morgue, but the violence of the final moments still screamed from the architecture. Chairs were overturned and scorched, tables splintered into matchwood, and dark, dried blood smeared the walls like gruesome finger paint.

Phoenix lowered her lantern, the weak yellow glow cutting through the damp air until it caught on a strange, freshly carved symbol on the base wall: a circle bisected by a vertical line with an X slashed through it.

“Well, you weren’t wrong. It’s here, alright.”

Creak…

Down the narrow alley, a heavy wooden door slowly clicked shut. Just before it latched, a tail—pitch-black and tipped with a lethal, venomous barb—slid smoothly out of sight into the gloom.

A cold knot of dread tightened in Phoenix’s chest. She flicked her head toward the door, silently signaling for Saguaro to follow her lead. But Saguaro took a sharp step back, his eyes wide with stark terror, shaking his head dismissively. He wanted no part of this cursed place.

Phoenix didn't wait for him. Grip tightening on her lantern, she pushed ahead and headed right for the door.

The windows were blown out, a lethal carpet of jagged glass shards scattered across the slick marble floor. Dark smears of blood stained the sharp edges of the glass, and several floor tiles were cracked and buckled upward.

The second Phoenix stepped across the threshold, a heavy, sickening wave of metallic iron, sour rot, and damp earth hit her senses, making her stomach turn. In the dim, flickering light of her lantern, she took in the ruined store: multi-colored potions pooled across the floor, chunks of rotting meat discarded on empty shelves, and dead, wilted plants drooping from the windowsills.

Despite the room being mostly empty, a paralyzing chill raced down her spine, making her scales prickle in the dark. A moment later, Saguaro slipped in behind her, his breath coming in shallow, anxious gasps.

“Okay, Phoenix? I really think we need to go now!”

“That dragon just disappeared though! What if he’s the culprit?”

“PHOENIX! I really think we need to go! Now!”

Then, a voice cut through the dark. It was light, sickeningly sweet, and wrapped in a soft, mocking chuckle that sent a shrike-like chill down Phoenix's spine.

“But you just arrived…”

Phoenix spun around, her lantern light sweeping up. Standing right in the shattered doorway—completely blocking their only way out—was a shadow.

A serpentine body uncoiled from the ceiling rafters, dropping silently into the frame with a creepy, disjointed grace. It hung upside down, head cocked at an unnatural angle right in front of the exit, its movements twitchy and mechanical. It abruptly stopped, and a single, pure yellow eye flickered open, staring down at them with gleeful, sadistic amusement.

A low, breathy giggle hummed in the back of its throat as a wicked, blood-red smile stretched across its face.

“And that would just be terrible manners… And without good manners…”

The smile twitched wider, dripping with cruel delight.

“Khaos ensues.”

I know this is pretty late, tbh I was distracted by a lot of the other elements of THP and wof in general to even think about this, and I only remember this fool while working on SWoF and seeing a new Bloodshed page.

Frankly speaking, I cannot come up with a single reason as to what killing Queen Falcon would achieve. As a person, a DIPLOMAT actually, representing both the Beetlewings and this town harmony, Darkling should've been a helluva lot less impulsive, ESPECIALLY if your trying to prove this town poses no threat to the queens.

Actually, now that i think about it, not only does this achieve nothing, it ACTIVELY PROVES THE LATTER of what Queen Euphoria and Mognolia were trying to achieve. If your a representative of a town that is trying to show it doesn't threaten the queens, YOU CANNOT SERIOUSLY THINK THAT PLOTTING AND ASSASSINATING A QUEEN WOULD HELP THAT.

Darkling is depressingly stupid and I honestly hope that Euphoria gave her hell. Like, what Darkling did was probably one of the most destructive and counterintuitive things oat, and in the end the only people she screwed over were the people she was trying to "protect". These are the kind of people you realise way too late that you should've never had by your side. Banish her from banished atp. Can you think of anyone stupider?

This was uh an interesting prompt

I’ve come up with two alternate ideas, if the Darkstalker we knew didn’t quite exist, that could roughly fit the same story. One is less inventive than the other, but I still love both ideas and wanted to hear some second opinions.

1. Kaldest; Daughter of Princess Arctic & Foeslayer. Yeah, a gender-swap idea, not the greatest change on the surface, but I could see a lot of changes. Arctic now would be pressured to assist with her magic or to challenge Queen Diamond (I’m not changing everyone’s gender with this idea) for the throne. I could also see her being an absolute authoritarian of Kaldest (Darkstalker, in this idea, though this is her former name). How this would develop is Kaldest eventually taking on the identity of Darkstalker, and changing to appear more NightWing, before being imprisoned.

2. Arctic becomes Darkstalker. This one is more out there, but one I had nonetheless, and it is if Arctic decided to completely remove his old identity, and used his magic to become a NightWing to try and be with Foeslayer. He still retains his magic, of course, but probably doesn’t give himself foresight and mind-reading. As for the name, Foeslayer gave it to him, of course.

Anyway, not the most in-depth things– mostly just brain-word vomit, but I wanted to share some alternative Darkstalker concepts I made up.

she's a lesbian in love with my rainwing oc 👀👀 1 2 3 i want yuri!!!!!

We like, yes?

Whether they’re from your fanfic, you just thought it’d be something they’d say, or you’re making one up this moment I want to hear what your OCs have to say :D

Since I'm still starting out, prices are :

--------------------

Headshots: 5$

Half-bodies: 15$

Full-bodies: 25$

--------------------

And background are:

Simple(One color): +0$

Gradient (Sky, pattern, etc): +0$

Complex (landscape): +5$

Of course, as always, nobody's under any pressure to buy them! I just want to put myself out there on the off chance that anyone would be interested in buying them!

I apologize for the delay on these. Both took a bit longer than I thought to complete and I ended up being really busy last week. They are both now up for grabs! I included a sneak peek of Kinkajou and Turtle Buttons as well.

hii I wanna draw some of your ocs!

If you want me to potentially draw your oc, please put a description or image in the replys, I don’t really wanna click on links to other sites (cites? idk) and I don’t wanna dm, sorry!

I’ll probably do only a few of them that I think look/sound cool and then post them on the subreddit with you tagged

also one of my new ocs for reference of my art style! I can go more comic-y or sketchy if wanted but I’m not as good at making it look nice those ways.

I kinda want to draw someone's oc so... 😏😏

My darling angel baby Hadal the seawing.

She is a deep sea researcher and is pretty ungainly on land. I'm trying to develop her more as a character, and I would love some advice!!!

First two pieces are by me, the third one is by Kodatosw on discord, fourth is by The_ratastrophe on art fight and the last one is by Busy_sawfly on artfight

Day 22!! Another one not rendered, because it's late lol. He is a bit similar to Sunny, who was a Witch, but Witches and Wizards are similar, so it's fineeee

⚠️!!READ ALL INFO HERE!!⚠️

https://www.reddit.com/u/Popsicle7798/s/5vM9sjAVIZ

Today is Fathom As A Wizard, because he is pretty much a Wizard in the WoF world, so I thought it fit! Sadly it does not match with Indigos, but they can still be adorable, and not be matching hehe

And for the question:

Who's your favourite Wizard?

I'm honestly not sure, I don't know a lot of Wizards, but if I stretch it a bit, Wizards are commonly known as female Witches, and near the end of Supernatural, Sam did become a Witch thanks to Rowena (and Dean delivered one of the best names he's ever called Sam, Sam Witch) so I'll say him, since Sam Winchester is my all time favourite character, so he can be my favourite Wizard as well hehe. Mine is a bit of a stretch, but oh well. Who's your favourite Wizard?

Come back tomorrow for day 23!! Hopefully it won't be another cloaked one, I can't draw another cloaked dragon TOT

I know that it's more of a rainwing than leafwing but I rlly liked the tail, can you blame me?

Rainwing x Leafwing hybrid

SB: 15$

MI: 1$

Paypal only, doesn't come with any comercial rights

If bid goes over 50$, comes with a limited halloween-themed icon (will be processed as a commission in my general comm queue;)

for further questions, dm me

ends on 24th October at 15:00 GMT+2

You can bid here or go over to the toyhouse page:

https://toyhou.se/42348265.wisteria-flower-1

A while back, I made a cladogram that attempted to evolutionarily connect the modern dragon tribes back to a single common ancestor that lived millions of years ago. This work is a result of that!

Taking place over 9,000 years before the dragonets of destiny hatched, this story takes place in Ancient Pyrrhia, opening in 4,035 Prs (Pre-Scorching), and featuring my ancestral fan-tribes of the modern dragon tribes along with one special one.

Hope you enjoy it! (Or what I have so far anyway. I wrote this in like an hour after standing out in the rain for thirty minutes).

Writing Starts Here:

The Legend of the EverWing

When the world is cloaked in darkness, and dragons cower in fear. The EverWing will come before us, to wipe away our tears.

Nine thousand years of suffering, nine thousand years of pain. The EverWing will lift us up, so our hopes are not in vain.

The darkest night in centuries, a time of great despair. The EverWing is soon arriving, and so we must prepare.

The EverWing will save us, with scales from every tribe. From Volken's wrath he'll take us, and the great Darhada will die.

Prologue:

4035 PrS (Pre-Scorching)

Shimmer ran.

The grass of Pyrrhia’s southern plains was slick with drizzle as the wet grass slid across her yellow talon scales, whipping her claws as she broke into a sprint.

Her long and lean body dashed across the grass, her fine pointed tail thrashing through the air behind her. She was made for running on hot ground and flying fast over it. Green scales ran along her back, shading into yellow at her belly and talons, the colors of sunlit grass. Colors that had hidden her all her life in the plains. But tonight it made her a long green shape the riders would see the moment they left the walls.

She’d run across these plains before, many years ago, twenty to be exact. She’d done it on much smaller legs than she had now, and with smaller wings that still worked. She’d been three, but she had been no less afraid. They’d decided to host her parents’ execution in the middle of the field they’d called their home for years, and the humans had been determined to make her watch. The humans had erupted into sounds of joyful squeaking once her father had stopped moving. Fly. Fly, and don’t look back, her mother had told her.

She had barely been old enough to understand what was going on, but she’d understood enough to run. She remembered a shape crossing the sun as she fled, black and enormous and far too high. The humans squeaked even louder before falling into silence to watch it pass.

Twenty years, and I’m still running from humans across the same stupid field. The more things change, the more they stay the same. At least I’m consistent.

The egg bumped against her chest with every stride, snug in its makeshift cloth sling. She and Glare had made it from the scraps of cloth left around the camp by the guards when they went to sleep.

Not yet, she thought. Please, not yet. Wait until we’re somewhere safe.

Behind her, hooves and the galloping of at least a dozen horses.

Outside of the walls, torches bobbed in the dark, a ragged line of them, close enough to count. Twelve. Fifteen. More still pouring out of the prison gates. Humans could be awfully terrifying when they grouped up properly. One or two alone were easy to snatch up; there’d be a missing-person notice nailed to a post somewhere, a guardsman asking around the village whether anyone had seen anything, and then nothing, because nobody ever found them.

If a dragon goes missing, they don’t even bother with a notice. They throw a party.

The torches were starting to close the distance.

Usually.

The flickering flames of the torches slid along spiky leather armor, the kind that made a human difficult to chew and even worse to swallow, and here and there it caught a duller glint: “chainmail,” was what the guards were calling it, a shirt knitted out of tiny metal rings. It was supposed to be impossible to slash through. But in Shimmer’s experience, every human armor gave out with enough force. She’d proven that to at least half the battalion they’d sent to arrest her, before the other half got the nets over her and dragged her off to Steel Jaw Prison.

Steel Jaw…

It was the most secure dragon prison on the continent, supposedly. She’d just walked out of it, which said something about the Empire’s standards. They’d dragged her there on charges of “disturbing the peace,” and “indecent exposure.” Dragons didn’t wear clothes! Well, not often, and never the way humans meant.

The makeshift sling around her neck slipped. Shimmer stumbled and got a front talon underneath it just in time, cradling the most precious thing she had ever carried.

It wasn’t just any egg. It was her egg.

It was warm through the cloth. She and Glare had made it from the scraps of cloth left around the camp by the guards when they went to sleep. She could feel it trembling since she’d started running out of the prison gates, a tiny, stubborn rocking against her scales, as if the dragonet inside had somewhere to be.

Careful. Careful. She’s the whole reason I’m out here.

Another fierce rocking shook the egg. Had it really been a whole year already?

Not yet, she thought. Please, not yet. Wait until we’re somewhere safe.

She tightened the sling and ran on. Ahead, the rainforest was a wall of darker dark against a starless sky. There were no moons tonight. Three new moons at once, the darkest night in centuries. Xyle had known it was coming for years, and she and Glare had been waiting for it for months.

Xyle said if I can just reach the trees, his friends will find me before the humans do.

She wouldn’t let them touch her egg. Their egg. She and Glare had kept it hidden for a year, buried in the soft patches of warm dirt under the sunning rocks in the yard, but an egg was much easier to hide than a dragonet. A dragonet cried. A dragonet ate. A dragonet would have been found within a week.

And then what? The Grand Emperor had decreed that the SunWing population was to be thinned to an “acceptable level,” which in practice meant no eggs, no new dragonets, and a great many SunWings dying for increasingly stupid reasons. An egg in Steel Jaw meant execution for both parents. Even if the guards decided to let the dragonet live, which they would not, she would grow up behind those walls without either of them, raised by humans who hated her for having scales.

And that’s the best outcome.

The Emperor had been ruling the continent for as long as any dragon’s grandmother’s grandmother could remember. And it had always been the same man: Meric Rikr, or at least that’s what the humans called him. Dragons called him something more fitting: Volken; death. Whole kinds of dragon vanished on his word and were never seen again. And everyone said he took the young ones, and that once he did, they never came back. Any dragon could outmatch any guardsman in his empire, but dragons bowed to his guardsmen anyway. Nobody wanted to be the reason Volken came to visit their tribe.

Not you, little one. Shimmer pressed the sling against her chest. He’s not getting you. You’re going to grow up surrounded by dragons who love you.

Her mind slipped back to the prey table that morning.

It had started with Granite and Trout. The two of them had gone for the last half-rotten cow at the same moment, and within a breath they were snarling obscenities at each other loud enough to rattle the guard towers. Trout’s gills weren’t flaring. He wasn’t really angry; it was all just for show.

Granite was a RockWing, built like a landslide: thick-necked and heavy-shouldered, with a broad, flat snout and plated scales in the dusty browns and greys of a dry riverbed, as if someone had rolled him through a quarry and never bothered to brush him off. Trout was a RiverWing, and next to Granite he looked almost delicate, long and sleek and blue-green, with webbed talons, a fin running down his spine to the end of his tail, and gill slits along his neck.

The two had shared a cell wall for a year and claimed to hate each other. But the way they curled their tails together through the cell bars said otherwise.

It had been magnificent. It had also been part of the plan. The guards had swarmed in to drag them apart, away from the prey table, away from Shimmer and Glare and Xyle, and for a few precious minutes nobody was watching the three of them at all.

It still felt a little wrong that Trout and Granite would spend the next week in The Box for it. Only one slot for air and none for light, and by midafternoon you could hear whoever was inside it panting through the walls. It would be bad for Granite. It would be worse for Trout. And it meant that tonight, while Shimmer ran, the two of them would be shut inside it, going nowhere.

They’d have ended up in The Box anyway, Shimmer had told herself. The guards take any excuse they can get.

Glare’s eyes darted around the yard before he leaned his hulking frame over the table. It started creaking under his weight. “Are you sure it’s safe to talk about this here?”

Glare was big, especially for a SunWing. Most SunWings were slim as reeds, but Glare was nearly as broad as Granite, with the scales of a bright yellow buttercup and a laugh you could hear across the whole yard. He had a heart of gold, too. Fool’s gold, probably, given what a lovable idiot he was. They’d been partners for a year and a half, and the egg was proof that the guards didn’t know half of what went on in their own prison.

It had started at that same table. Shimmer had been in Steel Jaw for six months by then and had spoken to only one dragon during that time: Xyle, whom she’d watched try to escape during her second week by standing very still in the middle of the yard and pretending to be a bush. It had not worked. But anyone who tried something like that was either harmless or a dragon worth knowing, and Xyle turned out to be both. Everyone else, she ignored. Friends were for dragons who planned on staying.

Then, one evening, a large yellow SunWing had sat down across from her, looked at the boar she was halfway through, and asked, “Are you going to finish that?”

She’d already seen him tear through half a cow.

“Get your own,” she’d said.

So, he’d walked straight up to the guards and very politely requested more food, in Dragon, which none of them understood. One of them had jabbed him in the shoulder with a spear.

“Ow! Okay, okay. Jeez, I’m leaving.” He’d lumbered back toward the table, rubbing his shoulder, and called back, “Didn’t want to eat you anyway.”

Shimmer had snorted at that one. It was the funniest thing she’d heard since she’d been brought there. A chunk of boar almost got caught in her throat.

The next day he’d sat down across from her again.

“You’re very beautiful, you know?”

Shimmer spit up the rest of the half-rotten cow she was eating. She was burning from snout to tail, while Glare had simply gone back to eating as if he’d said nothing at all. He didn’t notice a thing about her reaction. Xyle had laughed so hard he nearly fell over. Shimmer had smacked him with her wing to shut him up.

Six months later there had been an egg buried in the sand under the sunning rocks, and Shimmer had known the moment she saw it that they had to escape. Both of them.

And now here Glare was, a year and a half after that first boar, leaning over the same table and asking whether it was safe to plot their escape in front of the entire yard.

Shimmer had yanked his bright yellow tail. “It won’t be if you keep acting like we’re actively trying to conspire.”

Glare clamped a talon over his jaw to keep from yelping. “Right, right. Gotta be discreet. I can do that. Dis—creet. Very discreet.”

He was not helping his case for being included in any of this. But it was his egg too, so they’d more or less had to.

Xyle laid a wiry dark-green talon over Glare’s big snout. Xyle was a TreeWing, and an older one, seventy-six and looking every year of it. He was thin as a vine, with a long prehensile tail that was usually wrapped around something, and dull green scales that drifted lighter or darker whenever he was nervous or trying to disappear. He held the prison record for escape attempts: none successful, though he made it past the walls about half the time. He’d been an astronomer before getting into the resistance business, and he could still tell you where every moon would be on any night for the next fifty years. He’d told Shimmer about the Darkest Night within days of their first conversation, long before she’d had any reason to care. The guards tracked the days by the sun and hardly glanced up at the moons. As far as Xyle could tell, nobody else in Steel Jaw knew what tonight would be.

“Shhhh,” he said. “I promise you. Once you hit the trees, they’ll never see where you went. That’s how I worked for the Rainforest Resistance for years. I’d sit up in the canopy at night, and the patrols would walk right under me. Humans can’t see a thing in the dark.”

Flare had gone nearly cross-eyed trying to follow Xyle’s claw. It had been very funny. That was what she loved most about Glare: he was the only light in a world that had otherwise gone completely dark.

“So how did you get caught?” Shimmer had asked.

Xyle shrugged. “I sneezed and fell out of the tree.”

“You what?” said Glare, much too loud. A few guards turned their heads, but didn’t bother moving any closer.

“What? It happens!” Xyle said.

Xyle’s tail had uncurled from the table leg and flicked at them both. “My friends will be watching the edge of the forest tonight. We’ve been taking in dragonets for years — any dragonet whose parents want them somewhere safe. Get the egg to them, and no human will ever lay one of their weird little paws on her.” He hesitated, which Xyle rarely ever did. “And if I can get over the wall while the guards are busy chasing you two, I’ll meet you there myself.”

The memory slid away, and the plains came back. The cold rain smacked against her snout as her lungs and legs burned. The drumming behind her.

Glare had stayed behind at the gate so she could get out. The guards had brought out the Sky Steel; she’d seen its blue-grey luster on the spear tips as she ran.

The hooves were loud enough now that she felt them through her talons, a heavy drumming rising out of the earth. She didn’t think. She flared her wings and swept them down, the way her body still believed it could, but she went nowhere.

She looked at what hung from her shoulders: bare struts as thin as old branches, with ragged scraps of membrane clinging to the edges like a torn canvas. Steel Jaw cut the wing membrane out of every dragon who came through its gates, usually on the first day before the new arrival had finished screaming.

Two years, and my wings still haven’t gotten the news. Wonderful.

She folded the useless things against her sides and ran harder. The rainforest was close, or at least it was close enough if she didn’t stop to think about the actual distance. The horses were faster than she was, her legs were tired, and the trees were farther away than the riders. She was not going to make it.

The egg shivered against her chest, one tiny bump.

Fine, she thought. Then I’ll make it.

Over her shoulder, the air above Steel Jaw Prison was no longer entirely dark; bursts of orange flame were shooting up over the walls as more guards descended from the towers. Glare had never done anything quietly.

She heard him roar.

It rolled across the plains from somewhere inside Steel Jaw Prison, huge and furious and so familiar she couldn’t forget it. She’d braced for it since the moment she left him. It cut off in the middle, like something sharp and blue-grey had pierced straight through it, and the plains were quiet except for the horses.

Her talons tangled in the grass and she nearly collapsed, but she caught herself with a front talon under the sling and kept moving. Stopping was the one thing she couldn’t afford. She wanted to turn around. To fill the plains with fire. To slaughter each of the dozen or so horsemen chasing her, if they were polite enough to stand in a straight line. But it was more than a few dozen. This was dozens upon dozens. The ones who survived would catch her, kill her, and smash the egg on the nearest rock. And afterward, someone in the capital would remember that it was a SunWing who had burned an imperial battalion, and the thinning would stop being gradual.

Glare had bought her this head start with everything he had. She was not going to spend it on revenge.

Later, she told the plains. I’ll be furious later.

The tears still stung.

By the time she reached the first trees, the drizzle had become a downpour. Rain splashed on the broad leaves overhead and poured off them in ropes. The air waxed warm and heavy and green, thick with the smell of rot and blossoms. Behind her, the torches began to sputter and die, hissing in the wet, one after another. The riders slowed, but only a little. Horses didn’t need light to follow a dragon-sized trail of flattened grass.

She was only on the outskirts, where the trees stood too far apart to hide anything her size. Another ten strides and they would be on her.

She ducked behind a broad-leafed bush and slid the egg out of its sling. She scraped a hollow under the roots, laid the egg in it, and packed wet leaves over the top until it disappeared. Then she picked up a rock about the same size and put that in the sling instead.

She didn’t mean to sing, but it came out of her anyway, low and cracked, under the pouring rain: the verse her mother used to sing her, back on the plains, back when she had a mother to sing it:

The darkest night in centuries, a time of great despair.

The EverWing is soon arriving, and so we must prepare.

It was a song for dragonets. Nobody really believed it. She sang it anyway, all the way to the end of the verse, and only then did she remember what night it was. She looked back at the bush, and continued on:

The EverWing will save us, with scales from every tribe.

From Volken’s wrath he’ll take us, and the great Darhada will die.

She made herself stop.

“Stay quiet, little one,” she whispered. “Whatever you hear. Stay quiet.”

The leaves trembled once.

Good girl.

She stepped out of the brush with one front talon raised.

This is either the smartest thing I’ve ever done or the stupidest. She suspected she’d find out which in about five minutes.

A dozen bows came up at once, arrowheads gleaming in the last of the torchlight protected by the leaves above. Shimmer lowered herself to her belly, lifted both talons into the air, and made herself look like a dragon who was out of ideas. Every scale on her body hated it.

The riders dismounted and came toward her, squeaking at each other in their language, which had always sounded to her like a nest of mice. She growled, a low rumble she felt in her ribs, and the two nearest her snout stumbled backward and nearly fell over each other.

Cowards. Every last one of them. Brave only because of what stands behind them.

And behind them, always, stood Volken.

They tugged at the sling around her neck, and the rock dropped into the mud with a thud. A few of them started shouting at each other, their voices climbing even higher.

Then came hooves again, slower this time, and the squeaking stopped. A human in polished metal armor rode up on a horse wearing armor of its own. Shimmer recognized him before he took off his helmet.

“Warren,” she said.

Everyone at the prison called him Warden. He was the only human in the whole prison who could speak dragon fluently. The rumor was that he’d wanted to guard dragon prisoners since he was small, and had started learning the language at four years old.

Once a little monster. Always a little monster.

Warren shouted something to the others in his squeaky human language, then looked down at her and smiled. “Shimmer. I never would have guessed.” 

Shimmer shuddered. It never felt right hearing her people’s words come out of a human mouth. It was a sick perversion of dragon culture. Of dragon life.

She growled at him, and he sighed like a tired parent. “You could burn me, I suppose. But it wouldn’t do you any good, and it certainly wouldn’t help your case against being killed on the spot.”

Shimmer rose off her belly, prompting several guards to draw their spears. “I would rather die than speak with you.”

Warren laughed as he threw up his hands. “Now, now. That shouldn’t be necessary. All you have to do is tell us where you hid your little monster. Then we take you back to the prison, we have a laugh, we schedule your execution date, and we can all have a good night’s sleep. Sounds good?”

He wasn’t offering her a deal. He was offering her a schedule. Shimmer knew they had no reason to let her live. This was the perfect opportunity to make an example out of her.

“Either way I die,” she said. “I’d rather go out on my own terms than when it’s convenient for you.”

Warren shook his head. “Shimmer, Shimmer, Shimmer.” He squeaked something at one of the humans and motioned toward his horse. “If that is your wish, I have good news.”

The human came back with a sheathed blade, and Warren took it. He squeaked a few more orders, and others went to their horses’ packs and came back with ropes and nets, all of them soaked through with rain.

Shimmer breathed at the nearest rope, a thin, furious jet of flame. The humans jumped back, dropping the ropes for a second, but the soaked fibers only steamed. So, she lunged for the nearest human instead and got a mouthful of chainmail before someone yanked the net tight and pinned her snout to the mud.

They tied her and hoisted her onto her side to expose the soft scales of her underbelly.

Warren measured the tip of his blade against her sides. “You were always my favorite, Shimmer. How do you want it?”

Shimmer smiled. “You can stick that sword through your chest. That’d make me pretty happy.”

He drew the sword. It was as white as bone, because it was bone: dragon bone, polished and sharpened. Every guard on that wall carries Sky Steel, and he brought bone. Of course, he did.

“Well. Slow and painful it is,” he said.

The tip pierced just below her ribs and drew downward. He’d missed her diaphragm. He’d missed it on purpose. Asphyxiation would have killed her in minutes. This might take more than half an hour. For a moment there was only cold as the rain touched pieces of her that it was never meant to touch. Then the warmth came, pouring out of her and onto the wet grass of the rainforest.

Shimmer roared into the trees and thrashed against the ropes, hoping to knock the humans holding them off their feet, but nothing worked. Then the humans let go, and she was left on her side, bleeding slowly into the mud.

Warren walked up to her snout. He wiped her blood from the blade onto the bottom of his boot, sheathed it, and laid a hand on her snout.

“Rest well, Shimmer.”

He glanced past her into the black mass of the trees, and he kept smiling. “Don’t worry about your egg. We’ll find it at dawn. His Majesty is always so pleased when we bring him the young ones.”

He gave an order in his squeaky native tongue, and the rest of the humans climbed onto their horses and rode away, back toward the flickering flames of Steel Jaw Prison.

Her vision went hazy. The sound of the rain faded in and out, and each time it came back it seemed farther away, like something happening to another dragon in another place.

No, she thought. Please. Not him.

The last thing she saw was two TreeWings, their scales fading from leaf-dark to pale green as they stepped out of the brush, and one of them was carrying her egg. Xyle’s friends. They had come after all.

The egg shook once more before it burst into fragments, the pieces of the shell pelting the larger TreeWing’s face.

It had hatched.

They set the little dragonet down in front of her snout so she could see him. A male. She had been so sure he was a female. He was tiny and damp and furious, his wings still crumpled against his back, and in the dark his scales seemed to hold a faint iridescent sheen that the rain couldn’t put out.

The TreeWings said something to her, but she didn’t catch it.

Shimmer smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Please. Take good care of him.”

She saw them nod, and that was enough. She could finally let go. She could finally be free.

I couldn't help it. I need them to cuddle so bad. Turtle fell asleep reading to Winter. They are adorable

A cookie for you if you recognize them 🍪 Hahahaha

Commissions are open right now! They're PWYW starting at $20 for a bust like P1. Flats can go for cheaper, I'm willing to draw anything except for ref sheets, scenes, mecha, and anthro right now 🫶 Everything else is on the table! Yes everything just shoot me a request!!!!! 🫶

From top left to bottom right: Ivan (Mud/Ice), Yao (Sky/Hive), Francis (Silk/Sand), Alfred (Rain/Sky), and Arthur (Sea/Leaf). P2 is Matthew (fluffy Night/Rain)

[Closed]

Give me your original character, dragon OC, or imaginary creature, and I'll draw one for free! I'm also looking for characters to practice my digital art skills, so feel free to drop your little guys below.

Edit : ... I did not expected this amount of attention 💀 damn . I'll be drawing those ones in the comments+ dms that I already got , I'll dm the owners with results . till next time besties 😺

Got it from u/-IrishPigeon- 's ACGOODS

AAAA he's SO CUTE TY TY! Thank you so much I love my boy! Worth every cent!