#{ Dangerous! Dangerous! Dangerous! Dangerous! Born To Be Wild! }

[lilacthebooklover]

pure vanilla cookie analysis- major CRK spoilers ahead!!

it must be so wild to find out that the power you earnt, the ability bestowed upon you for being pure and worthy, is nothing more than a fraction of everything you fight against. to watch the light of freedom be corrupted by the realisation your kind aren't meant to live, and see what should encourage peace be warped into a motive for destruction. to know that the devastation sent through the land is because you couldn't uphold your promise of keeping it all from going too far. to wait for the night of the crescent moon and attempt to fix it all, only to wind up with nothing more than a curse instead and nobody to blame but yourself. to be attacked in your homeland, to watch a war break out that you know is your fault, and to have the only way to stop it be to sacrifice your own power, the power you've used to bring together your world. to have it all taken away of your own volition in what should have been a final fight, to attempt to banish yourself and the one you love most for the good of all, to send away your people and your kingdom and everything you know. to try to isolate yourself for an eternity in a final, desperate act of sacrifice even though you know you cannot die. to expect that to be the end, only to go down in history as a legend and wander alone years later with no memory of your past and the last remnants of your soul appearing through your dreams. to wonder how you came to be, how you're still alive, then to remember it all and regain an identity that has lost its allure to your failures.

to be reminded of your mistakes by the harbingers of all that you oppose, to be easily incapacitated by reminders of how little purity you have left. to set out to reunite with others of your stature, your friends, to find those who share a common goal of protection, and find out just how deeply this power has corrupted their lives. to regain your strength and watch as the person who used to be your closest friend repeatedly pushes you away, insistent that you are but an obstacle she needs to be rid of, to find that same friend's soul split in two. to be a healer, to have the designated role of repairing and cleansing, only to struggle for a solution that will fix wounds that seem far too deep to close. to cause damage and harm and devastation despite wanting anything but, and see those who stayed steadfastly, fatally loyal to you fall at the hands of a monster you crafted. to search for the truth because you are the truth, you have been since you faced the trials and passed, and now it's up to you to find a way to fix this.

to learn that more of your own soul could be used to bring part of a loved, corrupted hero you have missed more than anything back, and to offer it up without hesitation regardless of the impact it could have on yourself. to be denied further sacrifice and see her return, only for her to push you away even now, desiring solitude rather than the solidarity you have been craving for years and years and years. to discover that your power is not your own, that it once belonged to another, that it was salvaged from corruption and destruction and illusions. to encompass light and purity and selflessness and leadership and truth, only to find out that you are nothing more than hastily purified deceit. to be selected as the one to stop the chaos and hatred, to have the fate of the world rest on your decisions.

to see the original wielder of your power be released and know that all you have is the result of another's descent into darkness. to see that your predecessor is a cookie and a beast all at once, to know that they are infinitely stronger than you and back in your world, among those you love. to be the parallel to a monster, the immovable object to an unstoppable force, to reflect deceit with a light of truth you can no longer truly trust. to discover your values are not inherently good, that they are born of the aftermath of evil, that you are simply a tiny fragment of unimaginable power where you used to be considered one of the strongest beings in existence. to see the cycle repeat in the one you care for most, and watch her blame herself for the horrors that have passed and the horrors to come, and wish you had prevented all of this while you still could. to see that your life is built on a throne of lies, and face off against a puppetmaster who shows undeniable, damning similarities to yourself, even down to his appearance. to be alone and yet not, to have power and know it has been corrupted before, to see what you have the potential to become if ever your soul begins to regress. to have back half of what you have so dearly missed, but at what cost? to know you must defend, must remain good, and try not to fall as the weight of your entire world settles heavily on your shoulders, because you are a protector, a ruler, a symbol, a hero, a healer, an embodiment of knowledge and greatness and power and truth, even as the very foundation of all you thought you knew continues to crumble bit by bit. wild.

[hum--hallelujah]

honestly if I were ever to throw the Suitehearts into any of my Killjoys stuff the dynamic would literally be the stupidest thing in the world. you do not want to have the Four and those guys together in any setting. it's a recipe for disaster. Jet and Benzedrine bitch and bicker like old ladies. telepathic warfare is waged via a complex language of glares and eyebrow movements between everyone in the room. Sandman makes a wholeheartedly joking comment to Ghoul like "I want to study you in a lab" and Kobra Kid gives him a black eye on the spot. Crab and Donnie end up playing hide n seek with the Girl until someone else who isn't aware of the game accidentally dumps a whole dude out of their hiding spot on accident and then gets elbowed for it. everyone hates each other but they're also kind of pals in the way that people who occasionally help each other out but don't see each other outside of that can be. that kind of thing

[mollysunder]

The Inx: Jinx's Great and Terrible Devotees in Spite of Conv/rgence

The most annoying thing about Conv/rgence as a game is that it introduces great concepts, like the Inx, but just fumbles the execution of them and the overall story.

In Conv/rgence the Inx are a new chempunk gang of Zaunite teens and young adults that idolize and borderline worship Jinx to the point where they're said to spread chaos in her name. But the Zaun that Conv/rgence establishes tells a different story about the Inx from the intended description.

The first time the Inx appear is in the Conv/rgence comic, where the lead members like Chadd play at the Triumph Festival. It's supposed to be a Zaunite festival to celebrate Jayce's defeating Viktor, the Machine Herald. If the Inx follow Jinx's lifestyle why would they even play at such an event to celebrate a Piltovan, and why would Zaunites think the Inx wouldn't make trouble over it? I could go on about how weird it is for Zaun to host a festival to celebrate Jayce, a Piltovan champion for a fight unrelated to them and their wellbeing, but that would take too long.

For people who admire Jinx's boldness, the best they can do in the comics is pretty harmless vandalism where they just graffiti Jinx's monkey tag over some walls. The Inx are also nowhere to be seen in major events like the Scraptown Run, which apparently all Zaun gangs participate in.

Then there's members like Moshpit Meg. Meg's a diehard Jinx fan that loves Jinx's attitude and dedication to explosions. Before that Meg was admired Vi, the enforcer, because Vi's gauntlets reminded Meg of her own naturally big fists and it made her feel less self conscious about her own hands. That second half begs too many questions I don't have time for.

Outside of aesthetic choices there isn't really anything about the Inx that says they're people who stake their identity around Jinx. This is largely because Conv/rgence's universe works hard to sanitize Zaunite grievances against Piltover which directly undermines the central class conflict between Zaun and Piltover. It also largely impacts the motivations and general existence of characters like Jinx and the people who follow her, like the Inx, because they wouldn't exist in the absence of Piltover's oppression.

To avoid addressing any real conflict between the two cities the Inx are only vaguely make sense in the story, especially the game. All except for one element, Chadd. I need to say this...

Chadd is Accidentally (on Purpose?) Great

The brief moments the audience gets to know Chadd's character gives us an interesting glimpse at the people Jinx inspires.

The first thing we know about Chadd is that he's a musician, and it's neat trait that connects him to the musical roots of Jinx's character. In League, Jinx was the first champion in League to debut with a music video. It was through Jinx's character that Riot and Fortiche begun experimenting League with music. So it's very fitting that Convergence creates a chorus of sorts for Jinx to continue that musical tradition. To add to that, the game's promo posters decided to reestablish Jinx's connections by making her a talented karaoke singer.

The next thing to know about Chadd is that he was the one who planne and organized the Inx to transform a rundown theatre into an airborne concert arena. Red, Ekko's close friend and romantic interest in the game, confirmed that it was Chadd who was the one to make it happen, within a week too. It's an impressive creative feat that's clearly in homage to "Get Jinxed's" aerial imagery. Despite how cool a stunt that was I couldn't see how it was meant to impress Jinx, she was the most destructive thing in the theater... until I read the transcript "Hold me like a Fermata".

A shotgun, a flame thrower... who's funeral were you planning Chadd!??!? Just for context this was a transcript Ekko found of Chadd and the Inx talking about a new weapon (and sound system?) Chadd seemed to have made. I'm sure Chadd was the one who made it because the Fermata is also the name of a musical note that represents a pause (sometimes dramatic) in a score.

If you're familiar with music you might also know that the Fermata has more than one name, it's also referred to as "the Cyclops Eye". That kind of reference to Silco used on a weapon for a later act to honor Jinx couldn't have been lost on the writers because the Eye of Zaun was already found on an Inx hangout.

When I finally noticed all these details I finally got that Chadd is dangerously devoted to Jinx. All the points in his character can only lead us to conclude the real plan wasn't to just play obnoxiously loud music when the theater reached Piltover's heights, it was to destroy Piltover with all the weapons they equipped on it. That's the best idea I can come up with because Jinx immediately throws bombs at their plan to cause havoc in Piltover... for reasons. It does match Jinx's track record at least, usually other dangerous or apathetic champions tend to appreciate her, like Urgot, Renata Glasc, and Khada Jhin.

Even Chadd's concept art communicates that he's probably more devoted to Jinx than rest of the Inx. The way his early design evolves to reflect Jinx's influence could even tell a story. The more this douchey glam rocker finds inspiration in Jinx the more he changes himself and his art to reflect Jinx's impact. Chadd grows his hair out, wears his tattoo of Jinx in the same place she wears hers, and even dresses more like her, but he still retains his own diva personality.

One last thing, the funniest thing about Chadd is the fact that both Ekko and Red seperately ask him to explain himself and what "statement" he's trying to make with the Inx. Chadd just flat out refuses to answer, and even breaks up with Red over that. I thought he was being douche (he was), but then I remembered Jinx doesn't explain herself in game either about the mayhem she causes, she just taunts anyone who asks. The student learns from the master I guess.

Tldr: In the Converegence game and comics the Inx are characterized by mild vandalism and pretentious artists. And I could almost get behind that idea if only Convergence wasn't so heavily biased towards Piltover the dynamics of a group like the Inx could have had a more interesting exploration in their motivations and goals. Also, Chadd is a dipshit and he makes a great follower of Jinx!

[marietheran]

No, you don't get it: the most tragic thing to ever happen in any of Lucy Maud Montgomery's books is that Anne would have been around 90 by the time The Lord of the Rings was published - and she would have loved it so...

And she absolutely did live to read it (look, I get to make the rules; it's canon from now on) but imagine her having access to it as a teen! Then, she definitely wasn't there to read The Silmarillion and these books were just written for her, you know...

(sad noises)

[byanyan]

ㅤi'm realizing it's been a while since i've explained why byan is, you know, even called byan in the first place. i feel like a lot of my mutuals probably have no idea, so lemme change that real quick!

ㅤbyan's actual, legal name is yeong-hwan byun — or byun yeong-hwan but, because they exist in a primarily english-speaking setting, they're in the habit of saying and writing it the western way. that is, with their given name first, followed by family name rather than the other way around, as a korean name typically would be.

they've always hated their name. in part, it's because it was given to them by the mother who didn't even want to keep them. the fact that she's never been in their life, yet they're stuck sharing her surname is something they've always despised. mostly though, they hate yeong-hwan because it's long. it's boring. they have to correct people on the pronunciation an exhausting number of times. and, of course, it's masculine. nothing about it has ever felt right to them.

by the time they were about six, they were desperate for something different. so, since no one else was giving them a nickname like they were secretly hoping would happen once they started elementary school, they took it into their own hands. taking the 'by' from byun and the 'an' from the end of yeong-hwan, they crafted the name byan for themself. it was shorter, it was cuter, it was unique and not inherently gendered — it felt so much more like them. it still does. they've been using it ever since, demanding that anyone who interacts with them on a regular basis use it over their "real" name, and they often threaten violence on anyone who doesn't. —and yet at the same time, most of the people they meet outside of school have no idea that they even have any name other than byan.

[mejomonster]

I started reading Billy Bat manga by Urasawa Naoki (u may know him as the guy who did Monster) and jesus christ its wild. Absolute experience. Judas and Jesus are in it, so are ninjas, so is lee harvey oswald (technically at least 3), theres a bat thats satire about how evil mickey mouse and disney are, there's lying cartoons galore, there's the civil rights movement, the oppressivr terror of the ku klux klan and the structural damage of segregation and fucked up laws, and the pervasiveness of advertising and the coca cola company ("golden cola") there's real events sprinkled with gratuitious fictional shit about manipulative God Billy Bat (or perhaps "administrator/guide to the human race"), a scroll that could control the world, Fake walt disney has hired killers, the looming brutality of imperialism and corporations buying out poorer areas, killing in other countries and breaking laws and whatever else is needed to acquire what they want, there's a cartoon dog kennedy assasination, a baby kevin inherits the powers of an older kevin, there's ninjas and priests, there's a small town out west full of cowboy larpers who are this comic artists biggest fan club, a secret agent Smith with a heart of gold (one hopes), a teenager named jackie whos seeing visions, there's a good and evil fake "mickey mouse" bat but frankly theyre probqbly both evil cause either way they lie and manipulate to get people to do what they want, judas cameos not only in his jesus arc but as a little kiddo, and like. Im not even halfway done. Einstein JUST showed up.

[dxrknessembr8ced]

HSIEN-KO

{ シェンコ }

MEI-LING

{ ミーリング }

H.O. JUNIOR

{ シェンコ - ジュニア }

REI - REI

{ レイ - レイ }

[rosehearrt]

tag revamp pt. 3.

[bcdazzled]

does your new family make you happy?

THE CONCEPT OF FAMILY HAD ONLY RECENTLY become appealing to her, once she found it. Larissa herself being a rather interesting surprise by the development of their relationship and even more so after Damien was born. Talitha too was both unexpected and perplexing but not disappointing. Together, they had all become quite the interesting pairing. But to answer the question simply, ❝ yes. ❞ They truly did, as ironic as that may have seemed. Surely, some would argue that the Devil did not deserve such conventional bliss and yet, she had it anyway. As if she had granted a wish she didn't realize she ever wanted with loopholes she had no intention of pursuing.

@deviaticn | @antiiichristus | @luxminus

[insidecroydon]

Are you living next to a snake? Shocking figures on UK's 'pets'

There’s more chance of living next door to a snake in Croydon than in any other part of the country. Poisonous neighbours: figures show 20 dangerous snakes, like this green mamba, registered at homes in Croydon Yep: not just your common or garden poisonous neighbour, but a full-on, potentially deadly, venomous snake could be living on your street, as Croydon is one of the areas with most…

[sailing-ever-west]

I want to see more Luffy as an almost cryptid-like figure, leaning into the fact that he's actually kind of scary and unnerving. The strange boy in an unassuming straw hat whose smile is too wide and full of teeth, always spreading across his face when he should be running in fear. Wild black hair and dark eyes that stare straight into your soul. A laugh that's born of pure delight but sounds like the dangerous cackling of a madman, making you question What He Is. A creature who can take any shape and size, who appears in places he should never be, and when faced with death simply tells it no. Threats make him grin and drawing his blood seems only to make him stronger. Always, always hungry, and loyal to those who feed his gaping maw. A harbinger of chaos everywhere he roams, as though he were its patron saint. Luffy is actually terrifying and I need that to be acknowledged.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

A study that just came out demonstrates that outdoor cats are known to prey on over two thousands species of wild animal, from mammals to birds to insects. That includes 347 species that are endangered, threatened or otherwise of concern, and they've been a key factor of the permanent extinction of over 60 species. And while cats may not always bring home what they catch, chances are if your cat is allowed to roam unsupervised outside, they're killing your local wildlife.

Why is this so important? Worldwide, wild animal populations have decreased in number by 69% in the past fifty years; that means that in my lifetime (born in 1978), the sheer number of wild animals in the world has been decreased by over half. Even "common" wild species are less numerous than before. While habitat population is the single biggest cause of species endangerment and extinction overall, outdoor and indoor/outdoor cats are a significant cause as well. In fact, they are the single biggest cause of human-caused mortality in wild birds.

Most importantly, it's very, very simple to fix this problem: keep your cats indoors, and spay and neuter them. If your cat is bored, they need more enrichment, and there are plenty of ways to make your home more exciting for them, from bringing home cardboard boxes for them to explore, to playing with them more often. If you want your cat to get some outdoor enrichment, leash train them (yes, it can be done!) If you have the space and resources, build them a catio where they can be safe from outdoor dangers like predators and cars, while also keeping local wildlife safe from them.

If you just give into their whining and pawing at the door, then they know that that's what they have to do to get their way; I know it's a tough transition, but it's worth it in the end for everyone involved. Cats are domesticated, which means they are not native anywhere in the world; there are exactly zero ecosystems in which they belong, save for the safety of your home. It is your responsibility to give them an enriching environment without taking the shortcut of letting them go wreak havoc outside.

[line-of-fire]

Pixie : Anyone d- Borealis : Depressed? Hazard : Drained? Spuds : Dumb? Stetson : Disliked? Pixie : -done with their work... what is wrong with you people...

[bamsara]

Some side characters/cult members for The Rehabilitation of Death. This originally was just supposed to be some light sketches but now they're all fully lined up and colored oops

Info about all of them under the cut:

All followers were designed based off of the actaul follower forms in game. Characters in order:

Bremar 🦊 (He/Him): Boy that often gets peer pressured into doing dangerous or scary things by his friends/bullies. Good heart, not a lot of spine yet.

Finor 🐰 (She/They): Elderly follower.  A devoted follower, but much too in the habit of behaving like an overbearing grandmother to those who aren’t even her kits. Comes from bearing so many in life before losing them to heretics in the wilds. Lambert found her already aged out in the forest after her husband and family were slaughtered, and she has been caring for others ever since her rescue. Stern and not a big fan of PDA, but good heart.

Cow Nurse 🐄 (No Name yet, She/Her): A nurse that works in the healing bay; takes care of the injured and sick while the lamb is gone. Stern and easily frustrated but it comes from a place of concern.

The Shrew and The Otter (No names yet) 🐁🦦 (Both She/Her): Lovers that often leave their work posts to be affectionate with each other in secret (even though everyone already knows). Eventually asks the Lamb to officiate their wedding.

Joon 😺 (Any/They/Them) (Otherwise known as 'the yellow cat' from that one COTL short): The best farmer the cult has, wasn't born until long after the bishop's defeats, and is a part of the generation that is blissfully unaware of Bishops prior tyranny. Bright but a little nervous at times, the Lamb asks them to watch over a certain 'new arrival' as their own hands are full, and Joon becomes the unaware caretaker for a certain God of Chaos.

Paazi 🐸 and her parents🦅🦇: (She/Her for Paazi, Unnamed: Eagle is He/Him, Bat is They/Them): Paazi is a orphan rescue from Anura found as young as a tadpole, later adopted by this older couple. She is the frog that fell from the cliffside and was later saved by Narinder, in which gains him her parent's appreciation.

Grekimar 🐷 (He/Him): A lumber worker who was exiled from his village in Anura, and taken in by the cult as 'all past sins are forgiven here'. Very critical of Narinder's presence, and is one spit away from dissension

Jayen 🐻 (He/Him): One of the two followers Narinder killed during his dramatic arrival to the cult grounds when Jayen was just trying to protect his leader, later resurrected by Narinder and Lambert in Chapter 2. Conflicted about Narinder's presence: grateful to be resurrected (Lamb told Jayen that Narinder helped) but still traumatized from the murder. Feels tingly in his hand and arm often. Sweet but nervous.

Tyren 🐶 (He/Him): One of the stone miners. Rescued from Darkwood. The very 'golden lab retriever' personality makes him one of the more friendlier types; this dog has a big crush on the Lamb that goes past prophet idolization.

[eldritch-spouse]

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

[extinctionstories]

Two hundred years ago, the wetlands of Japan rustled with pink-tinged feathers. Tall, pale birds stepped carefully through reeds and iris, hunting small fish, crabs, and frogs. 

Nipponia nippon, it would be dubbed by the national ornithological society, a bird emblematic of its country. The Crested Ibis. The Toki. The Peach Flower Bird.

Marshes slowly changed to rice fields, with farmers who resented the toki for ruining crops; to kill the birds was outlawed, so children chased them from the fields, singing warnings.

The doors of the country were pried open. Laws changed. Farmers bought their first guns, their sights set on birds who were no longer protected. The toki, the red-crowned crane, and many others began to suffer. But the worst was yet to come.

Pesticides are indiscriminate killers. The poison sprayed to kill a beetle can travel up the foodchain, toppling a cascade of larger animals, or affecting their ability to reproduce. It was reckless pesticide use that nearly wiped out the Bald Eagle. In the rice fields, the peach-flower-bird had little chance. 

In 1981, Japan’s last five living toki were removed from a wild that had become too dangerous for them.

I tell a lot of sad stories here, about mistakes we’ve made and animals we’ve lost. This isn’t one of those. This is a story about one of those precious times when we were able to fix the things we’d broken. 

A joint effort between Japan & China, and the discovery of seven more birds in that country, led to a successful breeding program, which in 2008 saw the first ibises fly free again in Japan. Today, at least 5000 toki exist in the world.

The last wild-born toki, one of those captured in 1981, lived almost long enough to see her species’ return. Reaching the equivalent age of a centenarian human, she died in 2003—not of old age, but injury after throwing herself against her cage door. 

Her name was ‘Kin’. ‘Gold’. 

Mended things can never be as whole as they once were. There will always be cracks that show, weak spots that remain vulnerable. Yet, like the shining seams of a kintsugi piece, these scars speak an important truth: here is a thing that someone chose to save; handle with care.

The title of this painting is ‘Restoration’. It is gouache on 22x30 inch watercolor paper