Cole They Could Never Make Me Hate You

"So you're looking for a home." Lance crosses his arms, looking the odd dragon over thoughtfully within the dark forest. Not a pokemon, apparently despite their appearance. But they are dragons and they're in desperate need of a safe haven now, a home where they can live without fear or danger. They're willing to do anything for that assurance. His eyes gleam for a moment, before he straightens. "Alright. I think I can help you. How many dragons are there?"

            𝐈𝐓     𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓     𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓     𝐅𝐎𝐑     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆,     𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆     𝐀𝐓     𝐓𝐇𝐄         𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓     𝐎𝐅     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓     𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃     𝐁𝐘     𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃     𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊     𝐀𝐍𝐃     𝐀𝐒𝐇.     Relying     on     a     scavenger     human     for     help.     When     did     he     stoop     so     low?     Forget     his     personal     feelings,     he     had     a     DUTY     to     protect     his     tribe     -     by     any     means     necessary.     〝    Yes...    〞      The     gravel     voice     hissed,     lowering     his     head     to     meet     the     stranger     at     eye     level.     〝    There     are     about     FORTY     of     us.    〞     

An oldie but a goody!

Wanted to play around with the idea of making clothes for dragons back in the day and so I decided on the cute idea of adult Spyro and Cynder attending all sorts of celebrations in their honor.

Honestly one day I'll remake this piece with much flashier and prettier clothes (add that to my long list of "To Do"s)

Terrador Icons

i. #45 icons of Terrador from TLoS: Dawn of the Dragon ii. 100x100 size iii. Cropped and resized by Atka iv. Please LIKE / REBLOG if using!

DL

on my carrd, all the muses' abouts are linked to their respective wiki's until i can figure out the best way to format their bios + verses

"Hold your hands to your chest. And tell me what you find. Out of you, a sparrow comes. And sees without its eyes. Don't forget who you are even though you are hurt. You are caught in a wire and soon it will burst. You can cry."

            𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄     𝐎𝐅     𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄     𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐓,     𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋     𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄     𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆     𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓     𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌     𝐎𝐍𝐄     𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄     𝐓𝐎     𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.     It     was     a     sentiment     the     night     dragon     had     not     experienced,     growing     up     under     Kestrel's     talons.     Then     the     SANDWING WAR,     then     the     volcano,     there     was     never     a     moment     for     Starflight     to     sit     and     MOURN.     To     mourn     the     loss     of     innocence,     mourn     the     dead,     mourn     the     loss     of     sight.

                A     scroll,     battered     and     worn,     was     held     gently     in     his     talons.     He     had     planned     on     making     a     copy     of     it,     an     effort     to     PRESERVE     the     scroll     for     ages     to     come.     Now,     he     wasn’t     quite     sure     if     he     would     ever     be     able     to     make     that     a     reality.     〝    How     did     you     do     it?    〞      The     dragonet     asked,     his     voice     laced     with     hesitancy,     〝    ADJUST     i     mean...    〞     

game immediately crashed after that cutscene so sad

rip tsunami you would have loved chappell roan

              ☽                𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄     𝐅𝐎𝐑     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄                ☾ @aithynne

            𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆     𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍     𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐃     𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐀𝐈𝐑,     𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆     𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍     𝐀𝐒     𝐇𝐄     𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃,     𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋     𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆.     〝    C'mon     SEREN!    〞      Spyro     chuckled,     〝    It     will     be     fun!    〞      Spyro     playful     grin     grew.     〝    The     WIND     CURRENTS     are     really     strong     here,     it's     gonna     be     so     fun!    〞     

a magma studio sheith sketch

Garrison days