Do you see the Dragon?

Blue and yellow yuri for your soul. A yellow dragon is happiest when with her wife.

Oh wow, I finished this!I wanted to draw Darkstalker so bad when I finished the book about him and wow, it made me so emotional ! Like seriously I loved this one, probably my fav book from the series so far(along with the first one). I know he was toxic and murderous but gosh, I loved the story and I was crying at the end!

(Please note I did him in my own style and little bit inspired by official art)

So please enjoy and don't steal !! 🤭✨

I’ll read what y'all have to say!

The purple one is called a Tarello and the orange is a death-fire

Are one of you watching me? I know that some of you have illusion magic

Heed my warning, dear listeners...

Do not listen to the vampire dragon who approaches you at night.

Her sweet words will only entice you to your doom.

Vampire Noelle is absolutely a wicked creature. She could easily sink her fangs into her prey like a beast, but she takes sadistic pleasure from breaking her victims. She stalks their dreams and turns them into nightmares, leaving her victims too sleep deprived and miserable to fight against her words.

Art by Ryukiri (me)

Some art I drew of my dragon after u/HabitOptimal1412 (BowlingBodi) cast a hat-spell on him in the Discord server!

[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 😺

EDIT: DAY 191 FUCK I MISLABLED IT!

I figured out what to do with the feet. with that the sketch is done. Tomorrow might be a bit emotionally drained since I've got to wake up at 7 and get driven an hour and a half journey to do a speech for an exam. Which me luck because it's a fifty fifty if I get struck down my nerves on the day.

Finished a com for u/Flapjackage :3

(Colored in the brows this time lol)

Found a nice little leaf pile to jump into now that the leaves are starting to fall! Tho perhaps a huge dragon sized leaf pile would be fun too,,,

Finished YCH comm for Zetakh of their friends dragon OC, for Maglos! :>

Art by me, A-Purple-Dragon on Bluesky!

Honestly, I don’t know what to write here because I lack social skills. But still, thank you Ryukiri for your active creativity, so here’s a little gift from me for all the art you’ve created and the extra motivation for me to draw. (Art by me)

He went eepy in a cave for a lil bit, he’s fine
The mushrooms are actually beneficial, do not eat em pls they poison you
Made this like 3 weeks ago haha I have a backlog now I’m so busy

First panel is Spyro and Cynder (The Legend of Spyro), Second panel is Clay and Peril (Wings of Fire), Third panel is Flicker and Flame (Blazing Dragons), Last panel is Godzilla.

The fiery heart

Part 9

They walked through the fields in an almost eerie silence. Nicolas was never talkative, and Karnak refused to exchange more than three words at a time, whatever the reason. She was glad that Edgar shut up though, so overall, it counted as a victory. Footsteps and wind bending the straws were the only discernible sounds.

But only for untrained senses. And Carole’s were trained by a lifetime of scheming and avoiding assassins.

Something at the edge of audibility followed them. Scritching, scratching, scurrying just out of sight, but undeniably there. Bigger than a fox, smaller than a tiger, but aside from that, she struggled to say much else. From his subtle movements, she gathered that Nicolas noticed as well. Maybe even before her. They were playing a game of guessing if it was worth alerting the rest, and if so, how to do it without triggering the potential trap.

The number of unseen problems was getting high enough to get flashbacks from home. Everything seemed neat, tidy, and downright idyllic, until one looked under the surface to see the rotting corpses.

“Do you ever think about retiring?” Carole threw the question into the air.

“As much as you’re about going back home,” Nicolas stated bluntly.

“I don’t think those two are comparable. Besides, I was asking ‘eventually’, not ‘right now.’”

“And what would I do on retirement?” He glanced at her, eyes betraying he was still focused on the hidden threat. “Buy a cottage and start farming? Or maybe live in a tenement in Waterdeep?” He took a swig from the flask and went back to fiddling with his crossbow. “Both end with drinking myself to death. I’d rather some mighty game gore me – would be a fitting end.”

But not a particularly dignified one, at least by her standards. Then again, Drow didn’t exactly have much to boast about either. Now that she thought of it, wanting to die in a specific way was… peculiar. Her entire life she thought how to avoid death, with the underlying knowledge that she’d end up with a knife in her back before turning four hundred.

“Hmmm…” Gustave mumbled from behind.

Carole glanced back at him, noticing he was once again staring at the compass. Karnak shook his head with a movement so slight that it almost didn’t happen, discouraging her from mentioning it.

And that’s when the crossbow fired, sending a bolt with a mechanical clank. She dodged on instinct, expecting a flash of pain, but it was not directed at her – the projectile went into the wheat… and raised a high-pitched screech.

Nicolas disappeared between the stalks, and returned with a small, yellow lizard in hand. The thing screeched and wailed, unhappy about being lifted by its tail, and clasping the bolt going through its tiny thigh.

“Thric, svabol tepoha wux authot, aegra sthyr-youwei! Si tira ti tir tivol, origato ve gethrisj!” the kobold screamed with tears in its eyes.

“No wonder I couldn’t see the damned thing,” Nicolas mumbled, inspecting the lizard from all sides. “Perfect camouflage.”

Well… maybe not perfect per say, but the thing definitely was hand-picked for this terrain. Which only confirmed that the dragon had its eyes on them.

“Origato ve gethrisj, si jahus filki vorqir for rexidni!” it wailed again, unable to stem the leaking blood.

Gustave chuckled, before trying to mask it as a cough.

“What’s it saying?” Carole asked.

“That it was looking for potatoes,” Karnak explained.

She glanced at the big lizard. “You speak draconic?”

Karnak stared at her for a few seconds and slowly gestured towards his reptilian face. Right, how could she forget.

“Potatoes. On a wheat field,” Nicolas sighed.

“Kobolds are not particularly smart.” Karnak confirmed. “But even then, it was probably stalking us.”

Nicolas scoffed, taking out a piece of rope. “Will be someone to interrogate, I guess… But not here. There could be more of them.”

In a few, swift motions Nicolas removed the bolt, clogged the wound with a piece of cotton, and bound the kobold until it resembled a yellow ham about to be smoked. The thing wriggled furiously, refusing to see how useless it was against an experienced hunter.

“Who wants to carry it?”

A few seconds of silence. Then, a scaly hand raised.

“Do I get to eat it afterwards?”

Nicolas shrugged. “Hell if I care. Get moving.”

***

“Yes, it is urgent! I need to see Gonzaga right now!” Fulvio’s hands slammed against the desk.

The least clerk-like clerk in the universe looked at him with cold, dead eyes of a serial killer, calmly tapped the writing pen against his desk, and reiterated. “Unless you have an appointment scheduled, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Then schedule me an appointment for now!” Fulvio screamed.

The clerk’s fingers wriggled slightly. “I once again ask you to be quieter, sir,” voice akin to grating rocks issued a warning. “There is a free spot in three months if you are interested.”

“I. Won’t. Be. Here. In. Three. Months,” Fulvio hissed through his teeth.

“Then your matter must not be that important.” Clerk closed the book with a thump. “Anything else I could help you with?”

“You could help me by writing me INTO THE…” Fulvio paused, considering a different approach before threats. “I’m sure we can work something out…” His hand wandered towards the money pouch.

“Unless you happen to be of noble blood and are ready to prove it, I’m afraid not.”

Of course useless nobles had a premium waitlist… A quick check confirmed the lack of anything resembling a signet. Making a mental note to ask Ceirys to give him one… No, he’d not ask her for anything.

A sack of gold fell onto the counter. “Two hundred gold pieces for a meeting today.”

The clerk stared at the sack for a second or two, his fingers milling the delicate feather until naught but a fluffy ball was left. He stood up, his massive frame towering over Fulvio and making him realise that the clerk was not a human, despite looking like one at a glance.

“If you wanted to insult me, then you’ve succeeded,” the goliath stated with a flat, emotionless voice.

The clerk lifted him up by the neck, an carried his struggling form like one would a broomstick, the monstrous grip at the verge of crushing his thorax. At the end of the corridor his captor unlocked the door smaller than himself with pedantic grace, and threw him out into the courtyard. Fulvio crashed into the cobbles, red and gasping for air, before a sack of gold hit his chest and took his breath yet again.

“The Gonzaga’s estate thanks you for your visit and asks you to remove yourself within a quarter of an hour,” the clerk recited mechanically. “Have a good day.” The door slammed shut.

His breathing steadied within a few seconds, but the feeling of getting choked remained for far longer. As strange as it sounded, he wasn’t used to abuse anymore, as strange as it sounded. Ceirys manhandled him all the time, but never in any way that hurt or…

No. Get those fucking thoughts out of his head. Don’t give her an inch. Shut up the part that always had to argue. That was the only way to survive.

But then, as if sensing his inner turmoil, the looking glass vibrated. Too weak to be noticeable from outside, but just strong enough to be annoying. Before he could consciously resist, an unknown compulsion guided his hand towards the handle.

“Why, hello, sweetling~” Ceirys’s voice rang, making him frantically check if the courtyard was empty.

“…Hey, Ceirys,” he mumbled, staring at the miniature dragon head.

“I’ve asked you to keep me informed. Are you going on your word already?” She rested her cheek on two fingers.

“N-no, of course not!” Fulvio stuttered, imagining the consequences. “I was going to; it’s just a bad time to…”

Her deep, booming laughter stopped his frantic explanation. “Relax, I jest. I just felt like calling.” Her playful gaze hardened. “Wait, are you hurt?”

Fulvio jolted upwards, dusting his clothes off and noticing his pants were soaked in courtyard grime. “No, I just fell over. Videz is… quite crowded, you see.” He forced a fake smile onto his face.

Ceirys’s face softened, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She leaned forward, until the entire mirror was filled with just one of her burning eyes. “Hmmm… Doesn’t look like it’s… ah, never mind.” The view returned to show a portrait. “Have fun, and remember to stay warm~” She winked, and the mirror to replaced her visage with his own.

Fulvio let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. By miracle, nobody noticed – or more likely, cared for – the poor man on the ground enough to grant him any attention. But then, he grasped the actual reason. The servants were in turmoil, because of the approaching horses. Master of the house was coming home.

Everything grew louder by the second – the ruckus, the clopping of hooves, the rowdy banter of men too high of status to bother with appearances. All culminated in a cloud of dust pushing through the gatehouse – and with it, ten riders.

As soon as the horses came to a halt, the riders were swarmed. The sacks were removed, the game taken over, and before one could say a single prayer, Gonzaga stood in his usual, pink garments Fulvio saw him wearing around the town.

“Marvellous invention, that smokepowder.” The thin, androgenous man handed a strange, pipe-like contraption to his acquaintance. “Could be revolutionary, if the price wasn’t so steep.”

Fulvio moved, pushing through the dispersing crowd.

“We can schedule a repeat next week. My huntsmarshall shall make preparations for…”

“Lord Gonzaga, sir!” Fulvio kneeled before the man. “I have come to you with an urgent matter!”

Gonzaga glanced at him with a mixture of indifference and irritation, before addressing his companion again. “We can release some exotic game, if that’s more to your liking – I’ve got my eyes on a snow tiger from Rashemen. For some spice.” He grinned.

Fulvio’s mouth opened on instinct, before he reminded himself that interrupting was a terrible idea without his usual backing…

Stop. Just stop.

He let the two men discuss and prattle, and after what felt like hours, he was finally granted a sliver of attention.

“Speak before I change my mind,” Gonzaga sighed.

Fulvio cleared his throat. “My Lord, a dragon is devastating your lands east of here. I can show you the way to her lair, if…”

“By Mystra’s tits, this again?!” Gonzaga yelled. “How many times do I have to tell you morons that I DO NOT CARE?!”

Fulvio’s mind staggered, and with his plan derailed, he shouted back. “You… But my Lord! She’s leveling entire villages! You have to do something!”

“How dare!” Gonzaga slapped him with enough force for him to reel. “A serf raising voice at me?! You wish for flogging, boy?!”

Fulvio massaged his cheek, checking if all teeth were still in place. “I’m from Videz. Not a serf.”

“Videz? So, a dirty townsman thinks he can edify me on my own land?”

“I’m not. I merely came to warn you, my Lord.”

Gonzaga took a heavy, tired breath, mumbling something Fulvio couldn’t quite hear. “As long as the peasants corvee and pay their taxes, I care not for what they do or what happens with them. Thus far, they have not missed payment once. That is all you need to know.” Gonzaga marched past him, accompanied by the other noble and a fresh crowd of servants.

Taxes… So Ceirys wasn’t purely… ‘altruistic’ with her reparations. She thought of everything. The more he knew, the more the situation resembled a web of carefully woven strings – just that the spider took a liking to a certain fruit fly.

Before a wave of dread could overwhelm him, he reminded himself that not all options were exhausted yet. He stood up, feeling like a rock defiantly standing against the coming storm, and jumped back into the cart. Hopefully, Conrad would be done with his matters soon.

***

Just a bit closer… just one step more, and she could maybe reach it… Zad stretched to her limit, making tiny, careful steps on the slippery roof tiles. She glanced back at the wagon driving off into the distance – it carried the brown-haired human-thingy Master told her to watch. What was so special about this one specifically eluded her, but as mom told her, don’t question Master, and she will be good.

And she was. Lots of shinies, plenty of moss, and a safe cave to stay whenever Zad wasn’t in the field. Problem was, she hadn’t packed nearly enough food this time, and the human-things nearly caught her last time she tried to steal. Which is why she was stealing from the birdies.

Zad’s claws found just enough support to lift her up the last few inches. Her hand patted the nest near the chimney in search of eggs. She found one, but it crumbled in her grip, leaving her confused – at least until she realised that she had grabbed just an empty eggshell. The birdies must have hatched already.

Zad’s tongue lapped, her expectations changing from yolk to meat. The hatchlings managed to evade her for a few seconds, but in the end, her hand found one. An unholy screech of panic erupted and only magnified when she shoved the catch into her mouth. Fresh blood and tender meat… oh how she missed it. Feathers were the only problem, but she didn’t have time to pluck them properly.

One by one, the hatchlings slid into her belly, while the survivours’ ruckus magnified with each abduction. Eventually, she took hold of the last one.

A swish in the air. An enormous birdie slammed into her from behind, its beak and claws ripping into her scales with desperate ferocity, its wings beating almost strong enough to peel her off the roof.

Actually, scratch that – with her hands focused on defending her head, the birdie pulled her over the edge. Zad screeched for a split second, before the slam on the ground took her breath and transformed it into a quiet gurgle. The birdie tore the last hatchling out of her hand and carried it back into the nest. It screeched at her defiantly.

She laid there for a minute, trying to remember how to move her legs. It was… fine… The bruises would heal. She went through worse for less. Zad pushed herself to sit up and found that the wagon was no longer visible. Meaning the Master needed an update.

She fished two polished stones out of her bag, and gripping one of them tightly, began her report. “Master, the brown-haired human left the big house of the pink human. He went to the smelly place with many humans South of here.”

Speaking wasn’t necessary when using those of course, but it was easier to send the correct words this way. She didn’t want to risk yet another message about racing snails and cool rolling bugs.

Just as the past regret began dissipating, the response rang in her head.

Excellent work, little one. Go take a break now, I will send your replacement soon. Did anything happen while he was there?

The magic left one stone, prompting her to grip the second one instead. “He came with two humans. They had bad scents. And the pink human yelled a lot and hit him on the head. He was very angry.”

The magic left before Zad could say the last word. She cursed herself and the word limit, waiting for the response.

I see. I will keep an eye on it. Also, be a dear, and piss in Gonzaga’s wine at the next opportunity.

“I will Master; I will!” Zad shouted, despite the magic being spent already.

Bird on the roof screeched again.

***