mtdreamcatcher
288 posts
Latest Posts by mtdreamcatcher
HistoryStorm, a little goofy but I’m loving the imagery
You will be randomly assigned a NightWing name. Spin this wheel for your prefix (first part of your name) and then spin this wheel for your suffix (second part of your name).
(I got the name Marveladvisor... It's tolerable)
reblog if the first musical you listened to was not Hamilton
Ah yes, the great hivliving scandal. I remember watching a deep dove video about this
important confession
i lied about my HIV status and all aspects of my identity (marital status, trafficking past, family, etc.) on this blog and i truly apologize.
this website is too fucking easy you make a post about transgender gay sex or the skull and people black out and hit reblog
The world is in great peril, and you are the unlucky protagonist who must save it! Spin this wheel three times and get your Dragon Age party that you're stuck trying to save it with.
Feel free to reroll repeats. Most are companions, but there are also a few companion-adjacent possibilities. You can assume that you as the protagonist have a basic level of combat competency even if you don't in real life, so don't worry about yourself
Reblog if you are ASEXUAL, SUPPORT ASEXUALS, or really really want to WEAR A REALLY FANCY BLACK CAPE
The has been stuck in my head for DAYS, yall need to suffer with me.
Imagine, a De Riva Rook and Viago, siblings, be it by blood or by covenant. Both dealing with hurt, resentment, and a desperate longing to be side by side again. Though Viago would rather die than admit it, he adores the little fledgling he took in, would gladly kill and die for them. But after they accidentally ruined a larger Crow scheme, he had to send them away. He’s angry, at them, at himself, this could get them killed, he taught them better than this. On the flip side there’s Rook, certain they did the right thing but now shunned by the Crows, by the very man they looked up to.
Imagine them not getting a chance to reconcile, as Rook binds themselves to Fade to keep it stable and stop Solas.
Imagine Viago, blaming himself, how could he have forced them away? Especially when they needed him the most. He feels guilty for grieving, he hurt them, what right does he have to mourn? On top of that he’s angry, at himself, at the other Crows. It’s infuriating to see the other Crows mourn and try to honor Rook, when they were previously the ones shunning Rook.
Sorry bout that lads, I’ve had that one line from You’re Gonna Go Far by Noah Kahan stuck in my head. “We ain’t angry at you love, you’re the greatest thing we lost.”
Cragged, exhausted, and aching…
Congratulations, youre body has taken on a new form! Spin this wheel three times. These words describe your new body
Chat if you know what SlugTerra is,, I FW YOU SO HARD DUDE..
I'm gonna smooch yah if you also adore this fandom, literally my childhood.. This and NINJANGO,, and a bunch of other cartoons
blehh,,
I also made a slug oc sooooooo yippee!!
Alistair | Fenris | Dorian | Lucanis
For scientific purposes, who was your FIRST romance in each DA game.
Am I allowed to be absolutely severely insane about him, like an actual freak or is Tumblr not a safe space
Spin this wheel of ~300 AO3 tags three times.
Ooo, CrowSky. I got the up to you option so I’ll say she’s a medicine cat turned deputy. I’m already turning her into an OC
spin this wheel for a prefix, and then spin this wheel for a suffix
as a bonus you can spin this wheel to find ur role in the clan (note: spin twice if you get apprentice)
You get trapped with two Dragon Age characters (spin the wheel) in one room for a day.
me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU
quiz enjoyers! i am now inviting you to come create something in my workshop❕
You've been cast into a fictional setting, and you don't get to pick your genre. This wheel picks it for you.
For being such a cool person, I drew your fursona. Happy Holidays!
My son <3 gay son or thot daughter lookin ass
Steal him and I will not hesitate to find your home address :)
anyways
he’s one of my 2 fursonas. His name is Prince, short for Princeton. He’s an asshole.
quite literally the only day you can rb this the last one was 2005
Rebloging this really late but still before midnight for maximum funny
happy holidays fuckos
Been writing an AU fanfic for Avatar, where the recoms go rogue. This is the Mansk chapter, the second chapter, I’ve been working on. It’s not fully complete but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out
Mansk wasn't entirely sure how this happened, sure he was there the entire time, but it still made no sense.
Mansk watched as the strange na'vi woman seemed to be engaged in a tense looking discussion with the squad's leader, Quaritch.
Oare seemed completely unbothered, as she has been since she arrived. Quaritch however, had that distinct expression he got when he was given orders.
Before Mansk could try and decipher what was being said, Quaritch turned to the rest of the group.
"Alright, listen up! Our new friend here is gonna teach us to ride like the enemy." Quaritch said, gesturing for her to continue.
"We will be going to the Ikran Rookery and Eywa willing, you all will be bonding with Ikrans today. I will teach you everything you will need to know, starting with getting to the Rookery." Oare said, pointing up to the massive cluster of floating mountains above them.
Mansk tried his best to not think about how screwed he'd be if he lost his footing. Him and the rest of the recoms were ridiculous high up, scaling the floating mountains and vines that lead up to the Rookery.
-
-
The group had stopped for a brief break on a spacious ledge, giving them a beautiful view of the sprawling forest below them.
"So, what are you gonna name your ban-ikran?" Z-Dog asked as she climbed up next to Mansk. Oare had insisted that if they are to understand their enemy, they needed to understand the language.
"Tomahawk." Mansk answered, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Like the steak cut?"
"Yeah and apparently it's a type of weapon too, like a hand axe. What are you going to name yours?"
"Ink, our colors will match." Z-Dog says, gesturing to her many tattoos.
“You sound so sure.”
“Call it a gut feeling.”
Eventually it was time to keep moving. Mansk continued to try his best to not look down as he and the others continued their climb.
-
-
Finally they reached the Rookery. Ikran were everywhere, basking on ledges, interacting, flying around, and hanging onto cliff sides. The recoms followed the na’vi woman, she led them to a cave next to the main area of the Rookery. It was connected to the main area by a thin ledge behind a waterfall.
“Who wishes to go first?” Oare asks.
“I’ll do it.” Quaritch says. Oare hands the lasso like tool she had made earlier, to him.
For a brief moment, Quaritch looked a little nervous, but the look was quickly replaced by a focused determination. He entered the main area of the Rookery, catching the attention of several ikran. Many flew off as Quaritch got close, but one whipped around and snapped at him. The beast was beautiful, as all ikran were. It was blue and gold, with splashes of faded red.
Mansk watched in awe as Quaritch dodged around the ikran’s jaws and wings, before seamlessly lassoing the creature’s jaws shut. He lunged, managing to wrestle with the ikran and getting on its back. He grabbed the kuru and was about to connect to it, but the ikran bucked, throwing itself off the ledge.
Behind Mansk, Lyle jumped up but was stopped by Oare. After a few tense moments that felt like hours, a loud shriek echoed through the air and the ikran suddenly appeared, Quaritch on its back with a massive grin on his face. Mansk and the other recoms cheered and whooped.
“What’s their name?!” Z-Dog called out.
“Her name’s Cupcake.” Quaritch called back, petting the ikran’s neck.
Lyle went up next. The ikran that chose him was a beautiful mix of blue and green with patches of yellow and crackles of black across its wings and body. The ikran lunged, trying to sink its teeth into Lyle. He dodged, though only narrowly missing the sharp teeth. Following both Oare’s instructions and Quaritch’s example, Lyle lassoed the ikran’s jaws shut and managed to clamber onto its back. He managed to make the connection much faster and much easier than Quaritch. Lyle was beaming, proudly naming him Eagle.
Z-Dog went next, her ikran was a wondrous splash of color. The ikran’s scales were shifting shades of blue, green, red, and swirls of yellow. Z-Dog named him Ink.
Then Mansk stepped up. His palms were sweaty, his stomach twisted itself in knots. It sounds easy on paper, but the actual act of getting an ikran was incredibly nerve wracking, despite how easy the others made it look. Mansk began to move through the Rookery, seemingly every ikran was disinterested in him. Out of nowhere, an ikran slammed down in front of him. It was stunning, colors making it look like a giant peacock. It shrieked, reared and flapped its large wings at him. Mansk’s eyes met the eyes of the ikran and his nervousness washed away, his heart steadied, and his breath evened. In a fluid motion, he lassoed the ikran’s mouth shut. It swung its head, narrowly missing hitting Mansk square in his face. Mansk dodged to the side, all but throwing himself onto its back. The ikran bucked and flailed, trying its best to throw him from its back. It somehow, in the confusion managed to pull the yìmkxa from its mouth. Its head swung to the side, sinking its teeth into Mansk’s shoulder and yanking him from its back. Mansk could hear the other recoms’ surprise and worry but he paid them no mind, currently focusing on not being torn apart. Mansk hissed, both in challenge and in pain. He lunged once more, managing to grab onto the kuru of the creature. He yanked his braid, managing to connect to the ikran’s kuru after a bit of struggle.
“Easy, boy.” Mansk said, brushing his hand along the ikran’s neck. “Easy Tomahawk.”
Mansk and his ikran settled near the others, giving the remaining recoms room. Oare and Ja appeared at Mansk’s side, carrying a few medical supplies. The two of them tended to the bite wound, Oare even slathered a pale paste on the wound as she said it would naturally speed up the healing process.
The other recoms, one by one, bonded with an ikran. Prager’s ikran was a subtle green mottled with darker green, black, and gold. He named him Malachite. Lopez’s ikran was a soft pastel yellow and purple, he named her Dahlia. Ja was next, his ikran was shades of green and marked with pink and soft purple, he named him Asclepius. Zhang’s ikran was a gleaming gold, striped by dark purple and vibrant blue. Zhang named her Ming. Brown’s was a beautiful mix of purples and pinks, speckled by white, he named him Lollipop. Walker’s was soft browns, highlighted by brilliant golden, her face and chest was pale, almost white. Walker named her Athena. Fike’s was soft yellow, striped by black and bright orange, with cyan wing tips. Fike named him Goldrush. Finally, Warren went. His Ikran was a vibrant red with swirls of teal. He named her Rose.
“Now, the final act to seal the bond. Fly.” Oare said, falling backwards off the ledge, only to suddenly reappear on the back of a ikran, a night ikran.
Without hesitation the recoms took off, following Oare’s lead.
Around Mansk the other recoms cheered, excitement palpable as they all took to the air. Mansk was captivated by the beauty of the forest, the sky, and the floating mountains. But most of all he was captivated by the feeling of flying, of feeling Tomahawk’s heartbeat like he felt his own, of feeling the wind flow around them.
Did a doodle of a Hivewing for a DTA
Cause I need to ramble about this:
I have two dragon types. One is like the GOT dragons, big, multi-colored fire, and no front legs. But my other dragon type is a wings of fire hybrid, an ice/rain/night.
But my other types are earth animals. A white furred timber wolf, a snow leopard, and a melanistic barn owl.
My brain keeps getting confused on where my wings are and if they have feathers or not. It keeps getting confused on whether I should have fur or scales.
I feel my horns, both a crown of horns, a pair of simple wavy horns, and strong Jacob’s Sheep-like horns.
My final type is a ghoul, a nameless ghoul from Ghost. I feel the wings, the ram horns, the tail, the claws and teeth.
Oh, how I wish I was a shapeshifter
I was huge as well, from the bottom of my paw to the top of my head it’s around 65-70 feet tall. I was a bit bigger than Smaug for comparison. My tail was longer than my body and my wingspan was large compared to my body too. For context my kintype is an icewing/rainwing/nightwing. Icewings are pretty big, Nightwings are a bit smaller, and rainwings are one of the smallest of the tribes
I’ve been thinking about dragons today and I have a very curious question about dragonkins
do you ever think about HOW big you would consider your kintype? Like the general size of the species and age. I would often consider adult dragons be on average to be only a few feet bigger than a blue whale, again this would also depend upon species as well
I’m just genuinely curious and I wanna hear from you.
I know it’s been talked about before but can you imagine being Lucanis(or any love interest) hearing Rook cry out your name as they vanish into the Fade Prison?
You see Rook dragged into the Fade, disappearing into thin air, with a look of terror on their face.
For Lucanis, you see the first person to show you kindness in at least a year, the person who loves you unconditionally, disappear as they scream your name. Imagine Spite’s reaction, him a whirlwind of emotion, so angry and confused. Where’s Rook? Are they alive? How will we get them home? And burning anger at Solas for doing this. All while clinging to the things Rook left behind because even though the smell is fading over the weeks, it still smells like them.
For Davrin, you’re a protector, it’s your job, the one thing you’re good at. And you fail. Imagine Assan cawing softly, sniffing and scratching in Rook’s room and across the lighthouse, searching for Rook. You start a carving depicting them both to honor them in case they never return and to ensure you never forget their face.
For Emmrich, you’re an expert on the Fade, but you’ve never even heard of something like this. Imagine Manfred, confused and searching for Rook, asking you constantly “where Rook?” You know that if they can’t be found, you won’t have a body to bury/entomb. You won’t have a place to go and visit them. You constantly reach out to the spirits, but none of them can find Rook either.
For Neve, you’re a detective, you should have seen the signs that Solas was going to betray you. But you didn’t. Even the wisps that follow you seem upset, constantly nudging you and moving things that belonged to Rook, trying to ask you what happened to them.
For Harding, you feel powerless despite your new abilities because you couldn’t protect Rook. You pour over every detail, contacting old friends from the Inquisition, but you turn up nothing. Solas has time and time again hurt those you love, has taken those you love from you. You won’t let him get away with it.
For Bellara, you once again lost someone you loved, and once again you feel it’s your fault. You throw yourself into your work on ancient artifacts, you demand answers from the Nadas Dirthalan, but find nothing.
For Taash, you finally find someone who truly sees you for who you are. But in an instant, they’re gone. All your strength, your skill, your fire, you couldn’t stop Solas from dragging Rook away from you. Your fist slams into the punching bag again and again, as you imagine punching Solas, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t ease the pain.