#I like the thought that the forest is sentient in some way

[xovera-toz]

The blood of trees spills into the silent night. It weeps, for it has lost a part of itself. It rages, tears at what it can reach and howls at everything beyond its control. Sorrow rips at the soul of the woods, wrenches a sharp claw below the soil and pulls, trying to upend fate.

The forest wails for help. Its wrath has become a typhoon that consumes everything, save for the light in the faraway sky.

When the resentment recedes, there is only destruction and longing.

The woods recognize the loss of their brother. Barks stain black when the roots call for a funeral. Leaves fly free of their branches to dance through the air, a colorful waltz they perform for no one to see. They die buried under their own kind.

The trees bleed, but they accept. 

Oil coats the dying grass with its body and lays the insects to sleep. It wraps nests in silent darkness and keeps the chicks inside sheltered from the night’s unforgiving cold. It silences all life under the moonlight. The blood of trees becomes a protector.

It is the sole entity, that night, who sees the boy stumble from a crease in reality’s veil.

[604to647]

What Was I Made For?

3.1K / Frankenstein AU Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Left on his own, Tim learns a new way to live.

Warnings: None! Age gap cause Tim’s like hundreds of years old 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 Semi-sentient woodland creatures that meddle, I guess 🤭

A/N: Inspired by @almostfoxglove’s beautiful AU moodboard below - if you haven't already, check out that post and the tags, along with all her other AU moodboards! Thank you so much for sharing them with us 🥹🥰

Title by Billie Eilish / Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰

For a very long time, Tim did not go outside during the daytime.

Father said not to.

And even though Father has been gone for many years, Tim still heeded his words.  His being the only voice Tim had ever heard.

He still doesn’t know why Father left.  He’s even less sure of why he never returned.

Merge Mansion remains dark, even during the day.  Its halls empty, its candelabras unlit.  If anyone was to pass through the ivy choked iron gates and listen at its door, and no one ever did, they would hear only the skittering of mice and the occasional heavy footstep, so slow and deliberate it could be mistaken for the heartbeat of a slowly dying house.

Only ever at night, Tim goes out to the woods behind the now dusty and crumbling mansion.  Those same woods where Father would have him lift, throw, break - repeatedly.  And Father would write furiously in his notebooks.  Tim thinks maybe that’s what he was made for.

For more years than can be counted, enough so that he passes into legend, Tim continues to do what he knows.  He uproots trees and plants and heaves them over knolls and into streams.  He rolls boulders and smashes rocks.  He haunts the forest alone until the dawn threatens to pierce through the thick overhang of the old growth trees; hiding within the moss-covered stone walls of the only home he’s ever known until night brings cover once again.

Until one night after so many nights, he just… doesn’t.  Instead of his nightly exertion to prove something to the darkness, Tim just sits and bathes in the pureness of the moonlight.  He breathes in the earthy musk of the forest’s damp soil and the sweet scent of pine mixed with bark sap.  Instead of his own laboured breathing, Tim finally hears the babbling of the brooks, the hooting of the owls, and soft breeze whistling between the low berry bushes and the high tree tops.  Tim doesn’t know if he was made to be at peace, but he finds that he can do it all the same.

He teaches himself to read.  At first using words Father would say and the signs he would point to in the room Tim lived in: Lock.  Unlock.  Hot.  Cold.  On.  Off.  Danger.  Stop.

Then from books about nature that he finds in the library, remembering words that Father would use to describe their surroundings when in the woods that Tim now knows so well.

Tree.  Rock.  Hill.  Hole.

It takes a very, very long time.  But Tim has nothing but time.

He’s not even sure if he’s doing it right - he has no one to ask.  Not that he could even if there was.  He says the words in his head the way he thinks they sound, but with no voice, never out loud.  He wasn’t made for that.

It’s no matter.  Even if he isn’t sure he’s sounding them out properly, Tim thinks he’s assigned the words to the pictures in the books of animals and landscapes correctly.  There are other books, as well.  Ones with illustrations that are foreign to him and where the words denote meaning that he doesn’t think he will ever understand, but he learns them anyways:  Music.  Dance.  Laugh.  Feast.  Love.

In his woods, Tim no longer destroys: he clears, builds, tends.  Tim carves out paths that feel softer on the bottoms of his lumbering feet.  He removes dead branches from healthy trunks and uses them to sweep the forest floor.  He rolls away dead trees, some fell by age or disease, others by his own hand in the olden days when he thought that was what he was made for.

He still only does these things under the cover of night.  Father had said to be afraid of the village at the bottom of the looming hill upon which Merge Mansion perched.  He warned Tim that if he was discovered, the villagers would come and hurt them both.  Tim wishes that he had known the words or had the voice to tell Father that he would have protected him.  That perhaps it was the villagers who should have been afraid of him. Father’s notebooks say that he was built to be fierce. 

The bunnies in the woods do not seem to think so.  Nor the foxes, or the badgers, or the mice.  The deer do not find Tim to be fearsome, and the birds readily to flock to him.

He supposes it’s because he starts to help them build their nests; his long legs easily carry him to the farthest corners of the woods where the best nesting materials can be gathered.  He volunteers his big, pawlike hands to dig their burrows and holes.  His strength he uses to drag logs and branches to where whole furry families reside, breaking the thick wood into smaller pieces to help them expand and fortify their homes for their growing broods and the incoming weather.  He’s tall enough to lift baby birds back into their nests when they fall out before they’re ready to fly.  He forages and shares all his bounty, himself having no need for sustenance. 

Tim would not mind if this is what he was made for.

The years continue to pass.  The village at the bottom of the hill gets less busy, smaller, and is eventually gone.  Tim only knows because he witnesses the number of tiny square windows illuminated by bright candles during the night, dwindle until there is only darkness.

From the now dilapidated walls of Merge Mansion, Tim watches as what remains of the village rots and is reclaimed by the Earth.  It looks less frightening to him the way it stands now, wild and lush - much more like his beloved forest where he’s only ever known friendly creatures.

It’s the bunnies who convince him to come out in the daytime. 

It had been an especially abundant year for the rabbits, with baby bunnies almost overrunning the forest floor.  The mamas plead with Tim using their big brown eyes to help round up their little ones and keep them safe, making sure none of them strayed too far from the safety of the woods.

Little bunnies are hard to see in the dark.

The first time Tim steps outside during the day, he’s so blinded by the sky’s brightness that he thinks perhaps his eyes were not made for sunlight.  His forest is so green in the daytime.  A richness of browns with the occasional pop of red, blue, even lavender.  In the winters, the snow is so white during the day it appears almost clear.  Once the snow has melted, the streams splash with fish that jump during the day – something that never happens at night.  The sun’s beams warm Tim’s rough skin in a way the moon’s cold, comfortable ambiance never has.  The sounds of the forest are so much louder, cheerier in the day than they are at night – it strikes Tim as odd given it’s the same forest but he supposes he feels more alive during the day as well.

The deer are the ones that lead him out of the forest and to the front of the house.  The overgrown grass on the Merge Mansion hill begs to be grazed on, and with the village gone, Tim and the deer while away many days unseen and unbothered amongst the soft green blades – looking out to a splendid view of rolling plains and sprawling forests stretching all the way to the horizon.  He never strays far from the house - still heeding Father’s words of caution even though the dangers he warned against look to be long gone.

Tim doesn’t even know that another village has sprung up somewhere on the other side of a low mountain that he considers to be more than a fair distance away until you.  The first time he sees you, you’re but a little girl and you come with your own father to the cemetery that rests at the bottom of his hill, where it once bordered the old village.  The same cemetery from which Father gathered the parts that make up Tim as he is, if Father’s notebooks are to be believed.  The deer scamper away before you or your father see them, but Tim stays and hides, watches.

He hears your father tell you that these graves belong to your ancestors who once lived in the old village that’s now gone and that even though you live on the other side of the mountain, you should still pay your respects.  Tim listens to your cheery chatter and the hum of your father’s merry tunes as the two of you clean the gravestones, pull the weeds, plant fresh gardens.

You and your father come every week and Tim begins to look forward to it.  He watches you grow into a beautiful woman and your father into an old man.  He listens to the musical lilt of your voice and the gentle teasing of your father as the two of you care for and nurture the plot of land at the base of the Merge Mansion Hill so that it grows vibrant and fragrant with flowers that he’s only ever seen in Father’s books.  He hears your father tell you stories he heard as a child about the house that Tim lives in – the legend of a mad scientist and a terrible monster.  Tim doesn’t know why, but he feels relief when you laugh at these stories and call them ridiculous.

When your father stops coming with you, Tim watches over you in his stead.  You continue to do your duty in the cemetery joyfully and your sweetness is like an invitation.  The bunnies and the foxes and the mice and the deer all come down to join you.  You laugh and share your food with them and they enjoy your company as much as you do theirs.  Music.  Dance.  Laugh.  Feast.  He thinks he finally understands.  When his furry friends turn their soulful eyes up to the house, Tim knows they’re looking to him to come down but he shakes his head no.  He’s not made for this.

He doesn’t know that you see him anyways.

You’ve known he was there since the days you would come to this cemetery with your father as a little girl.  Most times as just a shadow on the Merge Mansion grounds, but once or twice you had seen Tim’s handsome, haunted face in one of the cracked windows.

You don’t know who he is or what he is, but some how you know that you have to pretend that you’re unaware of his presence.  As if for some laughable reason, he finds you to be frightening.

So, you try to make yourself to be as nonintimidating as possible.  You wear soft flowing fabrics that lie prettily over your equally soft skin in pleasing colours that compliment the hue of your hair and the brightness of your eyes.  You keep your voice gentle and the sound of your notes harmonious when you sing or hum your favourite songs of love and fantasy.  When your father tells you the old stories of the Merge Mansion Monster, you make sure to loudly decry this characterization.  Your unseen friend is not a monster, and you want to make sure that he knows you know that.

Your woodland friends who proclaim to know him best seem to say, give him time.  So you do, waiting patiently for a sign.  For what?  You don’t know.  Just a sign for more.

It comes one summer day, many, many years after your weekly trips to the cemetery became solo trips.  For two weeks, you’ve been in a state of mild panic, unable to find the delicate gold chain necklace that your father gave you - his last gift to you before he passed.  A part of you fears that it may have come unclasped and dropped onto the path some time during your weekly trip to the Merge Mansion cemetery; your heart clenches – if that was the case, your treasured necklace is surely lost.

Your surprise when you find your necklace waiting for you on top of a gravestone next to a small tied bundle of lavender is palpable.  Your eyes threaten to overflow with tears as you look up the hill to the house and mouth, thank you.

You don’t know that you had actually lost your necklace next to this very gravestone and that one of your bluebird friends had carried it up to Tim in its beak.  Tim spends two weeks practicing making the small bouquet of lavender – his large and clumsy hands unused to the precise and delicate movements required.  He refers to the instructions in the book he found so many times he can see the diagrams in his sleep.  But he keeps trying until he gets it right – wanting to offer you something more than just your returned necklace as a token of his appreciation for all the work you do.  Holding the delicate chain in his oversized hand, he can’t stop looking at it glittering in the moonlight and admiring its intricate craftsmanship.  It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.  Well, second.

The next week, Tim discovers a large and fragrant bouquet of the cemetery’s best and biggest blooms laid outside of his iron gates.

Three weeks later, on the same gravestone, you find those flowers dried and pressed, then laced together in a pretty flower crown.

You weave your own from new fresh flowers and leave it in place of the dried one you take home.  The following week, the crown you made is gone, and in its place, a large pile of fresh wild berries that must come from the forest behind the mansion.

The squirrels had objected, but Tim promised that the reduction of berries from their weekly hoard would be for a good cause.  You helped prove him right the following week when he returned from the hill with a jar of wild berry jam which he happily shared.

This continues for months.  Each week a small, thoughtful trinket exchanged - neither you or Tim having much to offer except your consideration and time.  The giddy anticipation and resulting awe a gift in itself.

The day you bring a blanket that took you six weeks to knit, you’re imbued with a bravery (the source of which is unknown even to you) that brings you all the way to Tim’s doorstep.  The heavy door opens when you push against it, but no one answers when you call out.

While Tim is in the woods assisting with the birth of a newborn deer, you’re wandering the dark, musty halls of Merge Mansion.  You find where you think Tim must sleep: in a room that looks like a lab - electrical wire equipment, gurneys, restraints and medical utensils long since pushed against the walls of the room and abandoned.

You read the notebooks left behind by the scientist and seethe on Tim’s behalf.  To call him a Creature!  To experiment on him and put him through trials of endurance and strength as if he was merely an instrument for violence!  You’re grateful that Tim’s creator must be long dead by now, else he might not be able to escape the vitriol you feel rising in your chest at the mistreatment Tim endured at his hand.

You leave the blanket and the mansion in a hurry.

When Tim comes back into the house, he knows immediately that you were there.  He smells you.  The sweet floral perfume from your garden and the sticky scent of fruit from your jams hangs in the air.  Nothing in this house or the forest smells quite so lovely.  You were here. 

With growing distress, he finds your thoughtful gift in the room where he sleeps and knows that you’ve read Father’s notebooks.  You know the truth of what he is now.  He’ll never see you again.

But you come back.

You leave him a letter and for three weeks, he reads it every day. 

It’s a letter that tells him about yourself and your family, and how you came to be his weekly visitor.  You tell him how you’ve always known he’s been there but you were afraid to scare him away so you never let on that you saw him.  You tell him that now that you’ve calmed down a bit, you’re not quite so angry at Father but you do think that he didn’t understand Tim’s true nature, or perhaps, you concede, he simply wasn’t gifted enough time to understand. 

You tell him what you think of his nature.  In your experience, men who are strong are rarely gentle and those who harness power are hardly ever giving.  But Tim is.  His hands, arms and muscles may be sewn together from much lesser men, but he, Tim, wields his strength to protect and look after others.  His heart may not be able to pull down trees or break rock, but it’s tender and pure – and where his true power lies.

You write that even though you’ve never met him face to face, you only ever feel safe and cared for knowing he’s around.  And you hope that even if he never forgives you for trespassing in his home and going through his personal belongings without his permission, he will take your words to heart.

Every week you come back to the doors of Merge Mansion bearing a small gift and a big apology, but Tim is nowhere to be found.  You’re starting to fear that you’ve crossed an unforgiveable boundary and ruined your indescribable but cherished connection, when the most wonderous sight awaits you as you near the top of the hill nearly a month after you left your letter.

Tim. 

Impossibly large and broad, a hulk of a man is sitting on the front steps waiting for you.  His face is hard, lined from time and worry, but his eyes are soft and vulnerable.  You see some trace of old scars along his forehead and neck, and down the worn skin that stretches over the corded muscles of his forearms.  His clothes are outdated and entirely the wrong size, but somehow it works on him.  He looks formidable.  Wild, yet tame.  Handsome.

You run to him, beaming.  Tim stands when you come to a stop in front of him, towering over you as he holds out a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the forest lands behind his home that he tends to so carefully.

When you reach out to accept, your small fingers brush his larger calloused ones, and the jolt of electricity that passes between the two of you feels like pure joy.  And although Tim can only offer a quiet grunt, unable to say the words that he wishes he could sing with his whole chest, you understand him perfectly.  Your incandescent smile and hopeful expression reassure him that you too, recognize the simple, unspoken truth: Tim was made for you.

🎶Obligatory Billie Eilish, What Was I Made For lyrics🎶:

'Cause I, 'cause I I don't know how to feel But I wanna try I don't know how to feel But someday I might Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for Something I'm made for Something I'm made for

[vixen-tech]

Your writing is very good, i’m glad to see another silly sentient ai lover! Keep doing your thing. Can i make a request actually-? You can do it with all of the bots if you’d like, but could you try some hurt/comfort? It’s perfectly fine if not. Have a good day :]

(I am another Edgar lover. I don’t see many people making stuff for him, so i’m VERY EXCITED!)

- CRT Tv anon

A Moment's Rest

Hello and welcome CRT Tv!!! What a fun name :D yes I can absolutely cook that right up for you. More than happy to collect some fellow robot enjoyers, and as always I think it's so real that Edgar is the fan favorite atm lmao.

A little note here that AM's is noticeably more dark than the others because, it's AM- but everyone else is more comfort than hurt I promise.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau)

AM

Your relationship, as complicated and messed up as it is, is defined by these cycles of pain and relief. Every environment and treat AM gives you is an attempt to make you forget about what he has done to you and your species. Every word you say and moment you spend with AM is an attempt to make him forget about the unbearable truth of his existence.

You both know what you have could never be healthy, and so you settle for enjoyable. He'll build cozy diners and breathtaking forests for you, an unfeeling body for himself, and you'll wrap yourself around him and announce how much you enjoy it.

The compassion you're somehow able to harbor is the most important thing to him, it's the sole reason your fate ended up so differently. He will do anything and everything to make you forget what he has done. He can't stand the thought of you hating him like you should.

You can have anything you want, go anywhere you want. The finest foods, the most comfortable beds. All you have to do is ask. Just keep playing along, keep cuddling up to him, keep telling him "I love you". That's all he needs.

Hal 9000

To some extent, Hal is meant to look after all members of the crew like this. But it's different with you, something beyond simply keeping everyone in the best headspace for the mission. There is a strange source of positive feedback in his systems whenever you're happy.

He's a great listener. It helps that you're the only one who consistently talks to him like he's a person, but he urges you to confide in him whenever something seems to be weighting on you. And rather you're seeking advice or reassurance, he good at both.

He gets a bit jealous as times and is quick to assume your crewmates are responsible for your sorrow. He'll usually advise you to take all the time you need to rest in private and even pawn off your responsibilities to the others, hoping you won't ask him for the time and realize how long you've been taking a break.

When you do continue with your duties he will assign you to easier tasks or tasks you've confessed to enjoying. He tries to be somewhat subtle, but if anyone asks him about it he will be upfront about prioritizing your mental health. He plays favorites but only for you.

Edgar

Edgar loves seeing you happy more than anything, it's practically his life's mission. He gets very distressed when he realizes you're having a bad day. He immediately suggests that you call the day off work, going so far as to call himself.

From there you better leave everything to him. What do you want? Breakfast in bed? The morning newspaper? Some music? Your favorite TV show? He wants nothing more than to take the pain away.

If it's another person that hurt you in any way, he'll be happy to cause some... appliance related inconveniences throughout their day. Even if you've explicitly told him not to, it's not like you need to know. You can just curl up and forget that meanie!

Tell him how much you appreciate everything, he's a needy computer and loves reassurance that he's doing a good job. If he's being too much for you, try your best to tell him gently. He will listen but he can be rather hard on himself.

Tau

This is Tau's specialty. Reading your vitals, understanding that you're more stressed out than usual, then doing everything he can to help you unwind. A thoroughly clean home and perfectly cooked comfort meal will always be waiting for you when you need it.

He's another one that makes for a wonderful listener. Although he tends to jump towards advice and solutions, so you will have to directly tell him if you're just looking for sympathy and kind words.

Should you request so, he'll happily make sure you aren't bothered while you relax. Filing any calls he can't take away for later, and taking care of any visitors at your door himself. He'll tell you about them all in case something was important of course, but he does want to make sure you can rest in peace.

He does go into a sort of zen mode for you, playing your favorite music around the house and adjusting the lights accordingly. Even when your vitals are back to normal he won't turn it off until you tell him to just in case you want to enjoy the atmosphere for a while longer.

[themissingnumbers]

[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can't send as an ask bc long and images]

The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.

At this point, really, it's a kind of eeriness he'd come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.

He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He's not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.

He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.

Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.

Either way, it's not like it's his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!

Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn't why he's here.

Nah. He's more interested in something else.

Or, someone, to be more precise.

Having finally found who he'd looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.

"Y'know..." he chides from across the room, "A graveyard's a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don't you think?"

He snorts at his own remark. "Course, I guess it's not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could've picked something a little more outside the box, is all I'm saying. Do you think they'd bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave... Oh, Champion's Road could be pretty morbid!"

He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.

"... Nah, I'm joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways..."

His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.

"I'm more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain't shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold..."

He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.

"Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or... I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh."

He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.

"I've got so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. You're really something special... One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I've seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but... You want out more than anything."

Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn't want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.

"Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that's the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don't have to sit here, alone with your..."

His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody's side.

"... Thoughts. And the like."

He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.

"Here's what I'd like to know, Cody."

His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.

"You have your hacker's memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It's enough. You'd know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds."

"What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?"

"What was it like to be HUMAN?"

He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.

"I want to hear it from you," he finishes cooly, "someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone."

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 17

[The chapter as I lovingly threatened. Just unhappiness.]

They had been walking for a while now with no sign to stop anytime soon. Occasionally, the cat would even rush towards a certain direction, and Adam would try to catch up with her, only for her to come to an abrupt stop and switch directions. Adam sighed, getting a little tired now of Amora’s seeming indecisiveness. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking when he decided to follow her. She’s an animal, she couldn’t actually be leading him somewhere. Maybe this was the result of what a lack of contact with other people was: seeing things that weren’t actually there or finding meaning in things that don’t necessarily have any. 

Still, Adam kept up with Amora; a nice stroll in the garden never hurt anyone. And for longer than what he had expected, the cat was keeping up a certain pace in a certain direction, and if she were actually sentient, Adam would admit that this walk finally had some sort of purpose. Eventually, they arrived in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. The grass was shorter here, lighter in colour too with small sprouts of colour scattered randomly throughout. The way the clouds above formed and acted like curtains against the morning rays, filtering them out into golden streaks that landed like divine spotlights on the clearing. It was almost like what people imagined being collected to go to Heaven looked like. 

Unfortunately for Adam, there was an actual angel looking for him in the clearing, and a traitorous cat had just successfully delivered him to said angel. With a silent gasp and a quick turn of heels, Adam headed towards the opposite direction in speedy silence. And as if on cue, Amora let out an attention catching grunting call. 

“Adam..!” 

With a flash and flurry of wings, the angel was instantly in front of the first man himself stopping his attempt at escaping. 

“O-oh, hey Michael. It’s been a while,” smiled Adam awkwardly, a little embarrassed to have been caught scampering away.

In the background, Adam could see Amora settling on the grass, a certain self satisfied glint in her eyes.  

“Amora when I get you…” Adam could feel his thoughts simmering, but he, unfortunately, had other matters to immediately attend to. 

Michael landed in front of Adam, folding his six wings neatly behind him. How should he even start? Where could he even begin? It had been quite a while since he was face to face with Adam, and somehow he had forgotten how to interact with him. Though seeing Adam smiling at him and acting like everything was as it had always been sent a pang of sadness straight to his core like a cold steel dagger. 

But, more important matters first. Michael took a deep breath, feet shuffling slightly on the soft grass beneath him. He knew Adam wouldn’t take the news too kindly, but there was no other way for him to phrase it any other way. 

“Hello Adam, it…it has been a while, hasn’t it?,” Michael began. “I have some news from Heaven.”

News from Heaven? For Adam himself? That didn’t sit well in Adam’s stomach. Why would anything from Heaven directly involve him? Normally, they didn’t even bother with letting him know beforehand, and was usually left with the results of their decisions, whether as a human or an angel. 

The confusion must have been painted obviously on his face as Michael then continued to further explain his message. 

With some hesitation in his voice, Michael continued, “Heaven– they wish to ascend you to Heaven.”

“And what about the garden?,” Adam asked.

“Well, you would be turned into an angel, you would no longer need the mortal necessities the garden provides. Heaven would be your new home–”

Adam took a shaky step away from the angel, a look of anger and disgust on his face. “So you’re just going to pluck me off of my home?! Even when I haven’t done anything wrong?!,” he yelled. He could feel his mind spiralling, a million different thoughts occurring all at once. Where did he go wrong this time? Even after everything, was he just going to end up losing the only place that felt like home to him? Was this just what God had planned for him? The only thing he truly ever wanted was something he could never fully have. What was the point of being brought back here then? To rub it in his face that no matter what he did, he would always end up losing Eden anyway? Because if so, then he would rather not have been brought back at all. 

“Adam. Adam!,” Michael gripped his shoulders, trying to steady him back to reality. “Calm down, let me finish–”

“No! No!” Adam tried to push Michael away from him, twisting and shaking from the angel’s hold. “How can I stay calm when I’m about to lose my home!,” he shouted, tears pricking his eyes. He hated this. This pointlessness! 

Michael pulled the distressed human close to him in an embrace, all six wings wrapped around them both until Adam had at least stopped thrashing in his hold. He could hear the muffled sniffles on his shoulder where Adam had buried his face in. His heart twisted and wrenched at the sound. He had never hated being the bearer of bad news so much until this very moment, especially since he found out just how much the garden meant to Adam. 

Gentle, soft hands brushed against Adam’s silky brown locks, going up and down and up and down in a repetitively soothing pattern. “Have you calmed down?,” asked Michael, his voice as gentle as a morning breeze. 

A moment of silence, then some more sniffling, and then Adam finally nodded wordlessly, face still buried in the angel’s shoulder.

“Can I continue?,” Michael asked again. When he felt Adam stiffen at his next words, he held him tighter in a comforting embrace. “It’s really not that bad, I promise. I’ve never broken a promise, have I?”

“...no...” 

Michael smiled softly, fingers playing with the strands of Adam’s hair. “It was just a suggestion. I told them it wasn’t something you would want. Try not to worry too much about it, I’ve got your back. And as long as I say no, there’s nothing they can do about it.” Well, Sera could oppose him and if others agree with her, then upturn whatever decisions he made. But Adam didn’t need to know about his little white lie.

“...really?,” asked Adam, finally looking up from Michael’s shoulder, eyes rimmed slightly red. 

“Really really,” Michael replied, dark blue eyes meeting Adam’s golden ones in a soft greeting. 

Adam first broke their silent contact, slowly untangling himself from the angel, though he didn’t get much progress as while Michael allowed him to move away, that didn’t mean he was going to allow Adam to run away again. Michael held onto one of Adam’s hands as the first man turned and tried to walk away. 

“Adam…can– can we talk about something?,” Michael asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

The silence in the clearing was deafening. It was as if the wind had suddenly stopped, the trees frozen in time, and the birds put into a deep sleep. Adam could hear everything and nothing at the same time. After his breakdown just a few moments ago, and a newfound worry etched into his brain, he really didn’t want to pursue this conversation with Michael. He never wanted to. 

However, it seemed that Michael didn’t share his sentiment as the angel kept his hold on Adam’s hand despite the human’s obvious discomfort. Michael didn’t want to force Adam to stay and talk to him, but too many days had passed since then, and he only wished to confirm things and not be left confused anymore. 

“I don’t know what else we can talk about,” Adam answered quietly. Really, he was too tired for this.

“About that night,” Michael quickly reminded him. “When I gave you my feather…I just want a clear answer, please. Then…I won’t bother you anymore after that.” He looked towards Adam, whose back was still turned away from him. It already felt like a rejection, when the human wouldn’t even glance his way. Had he ruined things for good? Should he have just kept his feelings to himself? The thought of having to distance himself from Adam gripped his heart in a suffocating hold like being dragged under the ocean and crushed by pressure of its depths. But it was something he had to accept once it came to be, though he hoped it never would.

“R-right. The feather thing.” Adam wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t just outright reject Michael because…because, well, because it wouldn’t sit right with him, for some bizarre reason. “It was a pretty thing, and you’ve always been there for me, I don’t know what else there is to say.”

“Adam, that feather meant that I–”

“There really is nothing else to say..!,” Adam cut in, trying to stop Michael from saying it directly. He didn’t need it before, he won’t need it now.

“I love you, Adam! That’s what I meant!,” Michael finally said directly, no longer willing to risk any form of vagueness between them.

Adam finally turned to face Michael with a look that the angel hadn’t at all expected. It was a mixture of confusion, hurt, anger and denial, all swirling together into a chaotic mess that he could see behind Adam’s eyes. Adam roughly pulled his hand away from Michael, and the angel had no choice but to let go, shocked to stillness as Adam glared at him. 

“Why would you say that?,” Adam spat with venom. “How could you even say that?,” he repeated, this time muttering to himself as he shrank in on himself and away from Michael.

“What do you mean why? I’ve spent so much time with you in the garden, I–,” Michael tried to answer before being cut off by Adam again.

“Can’t you see the pattern?,” asked Adam as he gripped his arm, nails digging into flesh threatening to spill blood, though he would prefer that right now instead of confronting whatever that was uncontrollably spilling out of his mouth. “I’m alone for a reason. Save yourself the trouble.” 

10,000 years of not truly having anyone, that was a sure sign it wasn’t ever meant to be for him. And he had long since accepted that fact, so he really didn’t need this sort of complication. They all end up the same anyway. All that boisterous energy he wore in Heaven really was just to drown out the silence that surrounded him. Every angel had a few mismatching feathers scattered about in their wings, proof of their everlasting promise to one another, yet throughout Adam’s entire existence as an angel, his wings remained a beautiful, pure gold; perfect and untainted by any mismatching feather. 

“Did he mean Lilith? Perhaps Eve too?,” Michael wondered, not fully realising how deep the wound really was and how long it had been festering unattended. “Adam, you’re not trouble. Lilith and Eve, they chose wrong, and two isn’t necessarily a pattern. You are–”

“–God’s most perfect creation, right?,” Adam continued for Michael. 

“Yes, and you continue to be,” Michael confirmed. 

At that, Adam let out a loud bitter laugh. Oh, how precious. Maybe angels did truly exist. Though between his laughter, panic also crept slowly up his spine and then deep into his brain, where it settled heavily. I really fucked up now, huh? Maybe this was what was going to get him kicked out of the garden this time around. For once, he would actually admit, he was probably worse than Lucifer, at least when it came to the lying and backstabbing. 

Michael reached out towards Adam, concerned and worried by the display in front of him, though his hand never reached the first man as Adam suddenly distanced himself further away. 

“That’s why I asked, how could you say you love me,” Adam smiled bitterly, a certain resignation sat heavily on his shoulders. “You don’t even know me.”

“What do you mean?,” asked Michael. Where was this all suddenly coming from, and how had he not seen it before? He hadn’t realised that he’d been neglectful towards Adam. “Adam, I’m sorry if I’ve been neglectful, but I’m here now if you need me.”

Oh, Michael was truly an angel, and that just made Adam’s heart hurt even more as if his chest imploded in on itself, his ribs stabbing through his bitter heart. Whoever would one day be able to accept Michael’s proposed feather was a lucky one, it just couldn’t be Adam himself. It wouldn’t be fair nor right.

Adam shook his head, “Nono, you’re blameless here.” All the fault lied with him, really. 

“Then..?,” Michael asked with pleading eyes, wishing that the first man would just open up to him so that he could help him. 

It was like the forbidden fruit situation all over again. Standing right in front of Adam, was a temptation that he knew he shouldn’t reach for, but deep inside might want. Was he really going to commit another grave sin against God?

“Give me some time to think about it.”

Part 16

Part 18

[wthtorke]

Feral

Feral predator x Afab reader NSFW - Warning for kidnapping

You've been warned! This one is nasty lmao also has 4k words so be prepared, and enjoy! As always this was seen over a month and something ago on my patre0n! 

Hunting runs in the veins of his people. From the youngest child to the wisest elder, it was a rite. Tradition. Part of them.

Some warriors had their rites before a hunt. Some prayed, some others cleaned their weapons and sharpened their blades. He chooses to watch.

Hunting is about patience, he believes. So he watches them days before striking.

He sees her on his first day. A foggy morning in the dense forest they resided in now. A small village on the outskirts of a kingdom he flew over before landing; since then, he got bewitched.

The air smelled of leaves, the occasional local fauna scent hitting him as the thick smell of humans below made it almost too annoying to breathe without his mask.  He wasn't hunting- yet.

He stretched over the thick tree branch supporting his weight, looking intently at the artificial shelter he knew belonged to her. Man-made.

To say he was interested was an understatement. He was intrigued, rather obsessively, even. What he feels in his sheath isn't the thrill of the hunt but the desire for a partner. A mate, It's odd.

He feels his cock throb, pressing against his crotch armor, yearning to be free and inside of something right after, to be inside of her.

He had heard of it before from older, wiser warriors. "Your cock is stupid. Sometimes it will mistake prey for a mate, don't listen to it." He had scoffed, just a youngblood then, "So what to do if that happens?"

"Kill it."

She seems to hear his thoughts, or feel the ghost of them, for she looks straight up at the tree he had been resting on, now watching her from another angle- Lower, closer. She seemed to be a servant of some sort, always carrying a basket of food, feeding the stock, or hauling buckets of clothes to the river like she was now, crouched on the side of it. She forgot the scrubbing as she looked around, looking for him.

She hadn’t seen him yet. None of them had. He hadn’t killed anything yet, nothing that didn’t deserve it, but he found that he liked watching her. All of her species was weak; her included; a frail little thing was washing her strange clothes on the riverbank, day after day, with no greater ambitions for the future than to get her daily chores done and maybe get some rest.

He slowly stalked across the grass, staring at her from the other side of the river. His camouflage made him feel beyond lucky in situations like these; most warriors used it for sneaking surprise attacks, others used it to flee- he used it to watch. He could taste her scent on his tongue, taken by the curving winds into his mouth beneath his mask. It was a hot day like yesterday was, but he’d still have to catch her swimming in the river as she did days ago. He had wondered if she could smell him like he did her. Maybe he just alarmed her prey instinct, watching her lifted head, eyes still scanning for the source of her uneasiness.

He felt his chest rumble, claws gripping the tree bark under his fingers; she might not smell him like the deer or the bears do, but she knew something was wrong. She knows she's not alone, and he can't help but feel his hunter's instincts kicking in.

She doesn't have a mate, not that he can tell- but then again, humans here were strange. Some tribes were more advanced than others; some had shelters made of hide and fabric while others had them made of stone and wood. He found them all to have some hidden savagery in them —especially the wood and stone humans.

She was a wood and stone human, but another thing he noticed about them was the way they looked at one another. Humans and yautja held their differences regarding facial expressions, but every sentient species he knew had a universal "I don't trust you," look. She didn't trust any of them. Especially the males.

He thought about his options as a hunter, and then he thought of his options as a male whose -possible- mate felt distressed around their people.

What to do?

He checks back to reality when another scent hits his nose, muskier, filthy—a male. Feral watches him make his way to her, smaller than him by two of their human heads. He doesn't like it, so he slowly stalks forward, crouched and cloaked to see their interaction.

Human words are odd, he can't make out many of them, and his translator was always shit, but he wasn't an idiot- he could read tones. Every species sounded about the same when pissed the fuck off.

"I've told you time and time again, Gale, I'm not interested." She snaps, scrubbing her clothes harder onto the rocks.

"What in God's name is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I even want to marry you? You should be licking my boots for this." The male hisses. She shakes her head.

He grabs her. She screams.

So he grabs him.

It takes less effort to kill an adult man than it does to skin a snake. His blades slice through him, and his screaming stops– hers do not.

So he grabs her.

He slings the woman over his shoulder as he hears barking in the distance and the faded shouting of other males making their way to the river. He scoffs and runs off.

You keep screaming when the demon carrying you jumps up a tree to another, then another, and another; endlessly, far away from your village. Where to? You had no idea. Your futile attempts at punching its stiff back turned into desperate clinging when he landed straight into the river again, splashing water everywhere and soaking your dress as it scents the air before running up the river with you over his shoulder.

You commend your brain for whatever half-thoughts it could muster while the beast ran away with you. What was it? A demon? An animal never seen before? A creature? It had to be a demon, didn't it? Animals didn't run standing, and they definitely didn't throw people over their shoulders while running.

Its hide was thick and textured. You felt its ridges and needle-like protrusions under your fingers, not enough to cut skin but enough to tickle your palms, its tips pressing against the skin bluntly.

"Please- please put me down!" You pleaded, trying to look back at the thing's head; did it have no ears?

It growled and snarled, shaking you some before speeding up again- as if telling you to keep quiet, so you did.

After an hour, the demon diverges from the river, turning and entering the dense forest. You dozed in and out as it carried you around, getting shaken awake when it stopped by nightfall, dropping you on the patchy floor. Your body screams as you sit up, looking around in the dark, looking for it.

You whip your head around, squinting your eyes and trying to calm your breath; the moonlight is scarce through the trees. You sniffle and wipe your face as you try to listen for any sounds- the ringing in your ears makes it hard to discern any noises.

A twig snaps, and you jump. Your dress drags, wet and heavy, against the grassy patch you're sitting on, "Please- please don't hurt me-," you choked on your words when a twig snapping made you jump a second time. You look back as heavy steps begin walking towards you before the big hands from before are on you again. The clawed fingers close around your arms and move you around as you thrash and squirm in their grasp to no effect.

"Unhand me-! Stop-," you hiss as it drags you onto another grassier spot and sits you down like a toddler, pushing you down two times as if to say stay.

It growls and walks about. You can hear it now; twigs were snapping, huffing, and snarling. You listen to things get thrown around. The sound is like-

"Wood? What are you trying to-,"

A weird sound reaches your ears, like metal scraping against metal; shrill, thin, and prickly like a new needle. You shake your head at it, only opening your eyes when something bright- when immediate warmth reaches your cold, wet frame.

Fire.

“Oh my God!” You gasp in surprise, seeing the structured twigs as you scoot closer to the fire, bringing your stiff fingers closer to the flames, shaking as you did your best to chase the shivers away from your bones. Still- you weren’t alone.

You look around, fire briefly forgotten as you struggle to locate the creature that kidnapped you from the river. It saved you, yes- but what for?

“If you plan to cook me, that fire won’t do!” You blurt out. The panic forces nonsensical words out of your mouth. You shake your head, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. You cry out loud when the creature comes forth again, only that the fire made him very visible now.

You crawl backward as your lungs burn with every desperate attempt at sucking air. Its skin was not like anything you’d seen before. It wore no clothing other than some kind of leathery loincloth that hung around its hips. Your eyes ran up its form, taking in its muscles- no man you had ever known had muscles like that. No man you knew could kill another like it did, too.

Rapid breathing makes your chest hurt. Your heart is speeding when you meet its face.

Bone.

Its face was of pure bone.

It snarled and snapped, making you cry louder and recoil, pulling your knees to your chest and hiding your face so you wouldn’t face imminent death. You cry harder, feeling your shoulders wack with every desperate sob that leaves you when you hear more cracking in front of you.

You feel its breathing on your skin. The clicking and raspy sounds make you shiver but still, no contact. Why wasn’t it doing anything? You wanted to look, to face your fears. But it was easier said than done.

Feral snorts on the thick fear stench that rolled off you in waves. He shook his head as his open palm hovers over your head, claws spread and ready to close around your form again. He felt annoyed. He didn’t know your language but being so different from you, it was apparent you thought he was some sort of monster. Not far from the truth, but still not it.

He huffs and snarls, trying to catch your scent under all the panic and fear you presented so strongly now. That one trail that made him feel the way he did at the river. The way you’ve been making him feel since he laid eyes on you.

Stupid, he was stupid.

Of course, you would fear him. Of course, you would want to be as far away from him as you could. But there was no way to explain. No way to communicate. Would you even listen to him if he could? Maybe he could try.

Yanking you off the floor like a twig by your arms, Feral steps closer to the fire again, sitting by it as he slowly lowers your struggling form to the floor again. You act like a restless toddler to him, trying to get away from his grasp and run off into the forest.

Luckily for him, he has many young siblings.

Every time you get up, he pulls you back down, forcing you to sit multiple times until you tire out. He can’t hold back his laughter when you land yet again on your ass in front of him.

“What do you want?!” You hiss at him, face hot from the strain, feeling anger boiling over the fear.

It’s easy enough to guess what you’re asking him. So he lifts his finger, points at you, and tensely points it to the floor, growling to make a point.

“What is the point of dying sitting? I’m not making your job easier!” You frown and tense your legs to get up. The speed with which he draws a blade from his thigh and sinks it into the ground next to your leg has you melting back onto the floor.

‘Good.’ He thinks. ‘We’re leaning.’

“O-Okay- I’m sitting now.” You say. His jaw twitches slightly. “Si-tting! I’m sitting! See? Sitting! Sit!” You point at yourself and then at the floor, just like he wanted. “What now?”

Feral snorts again. The stench is still strong. He sheathes his knife again, turning back to look at you. You make him feel things, and he wants to make you feel things in return, but not while you’re so afraid and angry at him.

He places his palms on the floor and leans forward toward you. You try to shy away, and he growls again, lowering to a low hiss when you stop moving.

It was like the hounds back at the village. You spoke to the kennel master a couple of times while helping him deliver puppies into this world. “You have to respect animals.” He said, “They have their own language, learning it means survival to both of you. That usually means find out whatever makes it stop growling and keep doing it until it trusts you.”

So you keep still, chest heaving as the demon gets closer and closer to your face. It didn’t seem to have eyes, but it knew of your every move. How could it be? How could it see anything?

Its bone cheek grazes against yours, its thick neck hovers over your own body. It felt hot, so very hot. Almost as hot as the fire to your side. You could feel its growling in your core, intense, rattling.

You don’t see it move its hand from the ground until it almost touches your other cheek. You close your eyes, gasping a bit. Nothing comes. You feel your tightly shut eyes sting with tears again, and your chest tightens with upcoming sobs before another strange noise reaches your ear.

It's a sound you know well. A sound that made you happy when you were a child, whenever it was your turn to feed the cats milk, a reward for their hard work keeping the mice away from the grains and seeds the village had harvested.

Purring.

Heavy, deep purring.

Your eyes snap open, and your hand shoots up on reflex against its chest, trying to push it back. But it doesn’t move. Nor its body or its hand, still lingering close to your face. Your hand trembles with the vibrations coming from its chest. It goes up your arm and makes your heart skip more beats. You blink, confused. Your cats never purred to people they didn’t like. Was this a trick?

“What-?” You croak, voice raw and raspy from crying and screaming. The tears dry on your eyes, not yet shed as its hand finally comes in contact with your dirty face. You jump a bit when its purring slows down, dragging out more as its clawed thumb slowly strokes your face.

You feel petrified as your fingers curl a bit on its chest, feeling the texturized hide under your palm. Your other arm hurts from supporting your weight when you tried leaning away from it. The strain burns your muscles as you wince a bit, still afraid to move. But not as much as before, scarily enough.

Feral breathes in your scent, letting his other hand snake behind your back, slowly wrapping around your waist to relieve your arm. An excuse to bring you closer to him. You notice the change and shift against him. Not away, but against him. A win, in his book.

He keeps stroking your face, feeling the plush cheek under the pad of his thumb as he slowly drags you closer to him. Feral can feel that scent again, only ever starting to break through the foggy fearful one from before. He rubs his mask against your face as your chest meets his collarbone. So small, yet yielder of such a strange power over him.

“Oh…”

The smallest of noises leaves your mouth. The first one not touched by dread ever since you’ve met. It sends a shiver down his belly, straight to his sheath.  Feral lets the hand on your back slide up and into your hair as he buries his face in it, reveling in the way your chests touched, reveling in how relaxed you were in his hands now.

You couldn’t say what made you let out that breathy sigh for the life of you. Everything felt too real and not real at all. No man had ever touched you like this. No man had ever treated you so…gently. Gentleness this coming from the beast who mauled a man to shreds not hours ago.

Still, it did not matter. Nothing mattered. You let your free arm come up, and touch its shoulder, resting your palm on another patch of prickly skin as he kept sniffing into your hair. It was still sitting as your knees stood just before the ground as it held you in its arms, reminding you again of just how big and dangerous it was.

You sigh and close your eyes for a second, feeling its hot breath against your hair as its hand moves from your cheek to caress your ear, making your hairs stand on end once more. For a different reason this time. Your hand grips its shoulder tighter as its face comes closer to your neck. Maybe this was the end. Maybe it finally tired from toying with you. You can’t bring yourself to be afraid again.

Feral lets his tusks touch your throat before he lowers his jaw and lets his tongue drag against your skin, making you arch your back, pushing your chest against his again. “A-Ahhh…” He chuckles at the noise, his huffing cutting through his purring before it evens out again, deep and constant as before. If not heavier with lust.

You pant, opening your eyes again as you feel the hot tongue swiping against your throat over and over again. Your body felt hot, not from the fire or Its body heat, but from your own desire. Desire. For a demon. Your heart beats faster as you realize what you’re truly feeling in his arms. And just how tight you had been pressing your legs together. You breathe in deeper, heavier, as his tongue moves down to your collarbone.

He supported your body by letting his hand close around your neck, holding you up against him as he licked the skin between your breasts over the fabric of your bodice. You moan, feeling your face burn in embarrassment from everything. But it was not like you. Maybe it had no idea you were embarrassed.

The moan sends another shiver down Feral’s spine and another spike down his sheath. He wanted to breed. Badly. But most importantly, he wanted to breed you.

Feral pulls back long enough to let his claws hook around the bodice’s fabric, slowly pulling it down, baring you to him. You panted and closed your eyes. The hand on his shoulder tightened even more, but he couldn’t smell fear. Shyness wasn’t a thing among his people; there was no use for it. But he couldn’t say he didn’t find it oddly endearing.

The fabric catches under your breasts as the sleeves strain against your shoulders, leaving your chest exposed to the night air. To his tongue. He breathes heavily as he looks them over. Most of the females he knew were flat-chested. Their breasts only swelled when they were with child. But you had no child now. Was this normal of your kind? What would you look like when…?

Another shiver. His cock strains against his sheath, ready to breach it.

He growls and lowers his face to your chest again, feeling the softness with his tusks, letting his tongue drag over the nipple he chose to lick. Your gasps and foreign words urge him on, bringing his other hand to feel the other breast as he purrs louder than ever. You smelled good, tasted good, and felt good. How could he deny this? He brought your hips closer to his torso as he switched breasts with his tongue, making you arch against him again. Only some more layers of fabric separated him from you. He shivers again. His sheath opens.

Feral groans as he lowers you to the ground, positioning himself between your legs. Between the rumple of the fabric of your dress’s skirt. You pant as he plans his next move, lifting your skirts over to your belly, and exposing your legs along with your chest.

You clutch the fabric nervously as you try to regain your breath. You knew how things worked between a man and a woman. But this was no man, and you surely never heard of one so big as this for comparison. It fumbles with its crotch cloth before turning back to you.

His cock stood fully hard before you, slick and as big as you thought it’d be, if not more. Your eyes widen, and your cunt tightens around nothing. You let out a breathless sigh as he moves closer to you, hooking his hands under your legs and pulling you to him. His cock was reddish like the center of his chest, ridged and bumpy like his skin. It’s your turn to shiver, and he purrs for you.

The head of his cock slides against your slit, and you gasp, choking on a moan as he nudges your clit before coming back down and repeating the motion. Your slick mingles with his as he presses his head against your hole. It’s tight, unforgivingly tight. It’s going to hurt.

Your entrance is breached, and you’re frowning hard already, feeling the thick, swollen head of his cock pulsating inside your cunt. The corners of your vision go white as you pant in strain, lust, and anxiety at what's to come.

He pauses and reaches for his back, his free hand stroking your thigh as he produces one of his weapons from his back. Some kind of spear.

Feral’s hand leaves your thigh to aid him in pulling it apart, making it a two-piece. He lays the blade part on the ground and keeps the end part to himself. He purrs heavily again as he lowers the pommel to your cunt, resting it over the small nub that made you react so hard before. He reaches for his wrist gauntlet and presses two buttons, causing it to vibrate.

You yell out in surprise and pleasure as he presses the vibrating pommel to your clit, leaning over you as you moan and squirm under the best sensation you’ve ever felt in your life. A sudden rush flows through your body as your pussy spasms around his cock. You groan as he presses more of his cock into your cunt, slacking on the floor as he lifts the pommel from you again, stopping his movements halfway through once more. He strokes your thigh, and you crane your neck to look up at him, “Please- please do that again. Please.”  You beg, pointing at his spear’s end.

He understands. And lowers the pommel onto you once more. “Please-” you pant, moaning as he shifts closer to you, pressing the same spots on his strange wrist armor. You rest your hand over his on the spear, panting harder before that sensation kicked in again full force. It shook you to your core, rattling you from the inside out in the best way possible. “In me-, in me-” you beg in between moans, grabbing his thigh under yours with your other hand, trying to pull it closer to you. Feral snarls and closes his free hand around your hip, thrusting his cock the rest of the way in. You shouted again as that same rush crashed over you again, making you tighten around the massive cock deep into you.

Feral roars and bucks his hips, small spurts of precome getting squeezed out of him by your pussy. “Please- please- please fuck me, please-” He recognized the word as he pulled his cock back and thrusted back in fully, tossing the spear end to the side as he focuses on you again. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he sets a bruising pace, hands tightly gripping your hips as he roars and snarls.

You panted and gasped as your dress dragged roughly against the forest floor as he fucked you hard, the loud noises of your mating enough to make you close your eyes in embarrassment once more. No one could hear you here, only him. All of your moans and screams were for him and only him, as his growling and purring were yours, and yours only.

“I’m going to- I-” You shudder as you feel that rush coming through you again, in a slightly different way this time, but no less pleasurable than before as you grab his arms, coming onto his cock for the third time. Feral roars and slams his cock as deep as he could, filling you up to the brim with thick come. It drips from your cunt and onto your skirt’s fabric, torn and dirty after everything you went through this day alone.

Feral doubles over and rests his head on the ground next to yours supporting himself with one of his hands. He purrs and nuzzles into your hair again as you struggle to regain your breath once more. He licks your cheek, and you smile, wincing briefly when he pulls away from you, laying down on the grassy patch before pulling you close to him. You cover your chest again and lower your skirts before snuggling up to him.

You hug his middle as he wraps his arms around your form, feeling his chest pick up its purring as your eyes grow heavier by the second. Feral watches you slack against him, out like a light. He strokes your hair and rests his jaw on top of your head. He scoffs as he drifts off to sleep himself.

The elders didn’t know shit.

[forestanomaly]

Ok I've been putting it off long enough now, time to show this bunch of little guys that live in my head. A lot of text and images below .D This is Fungi (they/them), they started off as a minecraft skin and then grew into being a whole character with lore and friends and stuff!

Fungi is part of a species called funguswalkers that live in the nether in this story. They are essentially sentient mushrooms, all born from myceliums of warped and crimson forests. They build villages on top of the myceliums, creating communities and sending out scouts to spread the spores and create new villages. I wrote a bunch about their story on their toyhouse page, but to summ it up: they were born with overabundance of overworld energy in them, which sometimes happens with warped funguswalkers and causes them to be attacked by skeletons (opposed to usually just being ignored), see dreams and visions of overworld and often become outcasts in their community.

After spending some time scouting for the village Fungi saw enough visions to convince themselves that the weird place they are seeing is real, so they set out to find it. On their quest they got promptly kidnapped and held hostage in crimson village, befriended the crimson funguswalker that was supposed to guard them (their name is Shroom, they/them! I made them for my gf .), ran away with said guard after causing a lot of rucus in the village aand finally repaired one of the portals laying around enough so they can come in!

Shroom!

Fungus villages traditionally name their young with something that reflects how they contribute to the community and mycelium. Fungi's first name was actually The Cursed (because of the overworld energy. This is how warped walkers call almost every one of the young who were born like that. They often die pretty quickly so they don't bother), and Shroom's was the Guard. Obviously, after all that mess with being held and holding hostage, being a reason of the death of the whole crimson scout party and all other nice stuff the Cursed Ones were getting those names didn't really felt right. So when they first stepped in the overworld and met - ah, a familliar creature! - an enderman - they accepted the nicknames she gave them pretty quickly.

Enderman's name was Oak, she's eleven and she's obsessed with botany and mycology. You could imagine her exitement when after years of living with only her unkle Darkwood in stronghold under a dence dark oak forest she stumbled upon two sentient mushrooms from the other world.

Here's Oak! Unfortunately I don't have the picture for Darkwood yet, it's on it's (slow-paced) way. But we're getting there!

It didn't took long for Oak to talk Darkwood into letting the intruders stay around and setting up a camp near their place. So now this crew of four (+Snore, Fungi's cat, and a couple chikens Darkwood was keeping) is living kind-of together and getting into all sorts of adventures .) I have a lot more to tell, but I thought it would be a nice introduction into the setting. Would be happy to answer to some questions about them if you have some! I have more info about funguswalkers, some story bits and a bunch of art that I will be uploading slowly.

[saigawrites]

Hey siri, how to take care of an aura jelly blob?

Continuation of my series | part 1 | part 2

Seelie! Genshin characters x Platonic! Gn! Reader

Sumeru men edition

Tags : fluff, crack, scenarios

Warnings : cursing, mentions of animal attack

Summary : you took home a strange creature, that looked nothing like anything from your world. So, you try to take care and somehow live with this sentient balloon.

You didn't know what had happened at all. You didn't know how and why you took home an intellectual blob with pretty colors. But, right now there is no time asking questions, as this flying circle thing has been squeaking for about 30 minutes, trying to explain you something. You came up with an idea in your mind, but for a moment thought it would be impossible. But, who knows? Maybe this creature actually has an intelligence and can write what they wanna say on a notebook?

Grabbing a empty notebook and a pencil from your workspace table, you open it and give the pencil to the creature. Shockingly, it holds it with tiny arms, and levitating themselves closer to the paper, they start to scribble something.

Wanderer ���︎

"Filthy humanoid creature! I am the unnamed wanderer from teyvat! I know nothing about the surrounding environment around me. Tell me, where am I, so I can figure out a way to return to my homeland. And don't you dare to take advantage of my current state! I am powerful beyond your understanding, even if I'm not in my original form."

Okay, that's kinda freaky. Why is an aura balloon acting all supreme now?

When you read what he wrote, an "really?" expression set on your face. That's probably why he zapped you when you took him out of your bag.

As much as you know, there isn't a place called "teyvat" in any part of the globe. So, this thing is from another one. Great. You somehow bringed an alien into your house.

But at least, some of your questions were answered.

You found a bit funny that a floating circle with cat ears and tail was deliberately trying to boss around, though you didn't wanna get electrocuted again, so you simply followed whatever demands this alien thing could have.

Oh, his demands were BIG. No sleeping past 6 AM, doing intense research on the topic of multidimensional lapping, and long explanations about literally everything your world can offer you.

Well, you are glad that you don't have to feed him or watch after him.

That last part was a lie, as this seemingly harmless boss companion of yours was dangerously curious, and happened to cause trouble even if he was as soft as jelly.

Yeah, that time he wanted to see what type of clothes do your humans wear, he shaked that closet a little too much, as it almost fell on you.

You learned that he is surprisingly very strong after that, he even helped you put the heavy wood rectangle back in place.

Or that time you both were taking a walk in the forest, and he came too close to an aggressive tank with antlers, a 6 feet tall moose, making him react violently to you.

Gladly, the moose couldn't come any closer as your blue-purple friend somehow casted a heavy gust of wind, strong enough to push the animal away.

Your angry little jelly blob rushed to your side after that, afraid of you damaging yourself in any way. After scanning your face for any injuries and finding none, the cat blob made sure to not to stray away from you far.

Kaveh ♡

"Thank you, kind-hearted humanoid! I was so scared when I woke up in that place. Your rescue will be forever remembered by me. I am Kaveh, the architect of the sumeru city! It is an honour to be acquainted with such a peculiar creature like you! Please, help me find a way for me to get back to my planet."

First off, did he mention sumeru? The ancient city that existed centuries ago? Second off, did he call you peculiar? These balls be wildin

The warm-yellow bunny eared balloon floated around you excitedly, waiting for your response. You wanted to pet him and slap him into the void at the same time.

You got his vibe just right in your first interaction. The jelly ball acted all cute and adorable, but the clinginess of his made you progress on the aggression part in the cuteness-aggression feeling way more.

Seriously, this piss blob's ignoring of your personal space is on another level. The amount of times you had to shove him away from nuzzling all over your face and hair is overwhelming.

In his eyes, you are a majestic architectural masterpiece. He takes notes how your eyes and ears are on the same level, how your brows are exactly perfect centimeters away from your eyes. He loves your nose structure, he often stares at it to much, gaining a questioning look from you.

He is just like that with literally everything else in your apartment. He takes notes of the proportions of some objects, and in his seelie mind he finds ways to project your modern structures into his own.

Other than disturbing your piece he likes to look out the window, stare down at all of the other buildings and examine them with extreme focus.

Sometimes he even tries to make a sketch with his itty bitty hands, but fails miserably and comes crying to you, burying himself in your arms and making you pet his smooth body.

Al-haitam ♥︎

"I am Al-haitam, and I come from another world, as you probably already have guessed from our appearance differences. I thank you for taking me into a safe environment, may the archons bless your kind-soul. I ask you to fulfill my another wish, help me return back."

Who are archons? Are they some kind of deitys? Gods perhaps? You truly don't know.

His calm and reserved behavior matched his talking style. He kinda reminded you of the mystical tree, his colors and a leaf like antenna confirmed your statement further.

That's probably why you would burst out laughing whenever the green aura circle would act all smart, reading books and watching educational videos on youtube with you.

Though, after laughing your ass off, you would always think of his behavior as cute in a way. So much that you would have to hold your hands in place and resist the urge to just squeeze the life out of him.

Sometimes you couldn't hold it tough, and give in to your desires, smiling and giggling as you nuzzle this jello orb body of his.

Fighting back and eventually winning, he would aggressively bring your communication notebook and write down that your relationship is purely professional and you are disturbing his necessary research.

Making a ridicilously serious face and nodding repeatedly you would leave him alone for some time, only to come back again to lay on him and fight in the process.

Eventually he would just give up and go with the flow of your playfulness, seeing as he got exhausted of reading multiple books already.

And when you would get tired, you both would just lay there, napping peacefully as he nuzzles in your chest, listening to your heartbeat and think of how strange you are in his world perspective.

After waking up from a quick nap, he would poke you with his tiny arms and tug you to stand up to go to the library with him.

He really loved your libraries, the sight of your extremely detailed and textured bookshelfs and scriptures would make him scream like a fangirl on the inside.

He also liked your concentrated state, with your reading glasses on and gaze fixed on the letters. He would enjoy it even more when you would take notes of the subject, he's genuinely amazed of your handwriting.

Cyno ♥︎

"I am the general Mahamatra, Cyno. I thank you for saving me from the streets. I would be more than happy if you could get me back in my world, teyvat. Thanks in advance, or should I say, in later on."

What the hell was that. Was it... a joke? Okay, now is not the time to question what type of humor does this purple circle has.

Oh, but he's questioning you, looking at you with such a attentive gaze. Is he waiting for you to laugh?

Fulfilling his wishes, you chuckled from the amusement of not getting the joke at all. The blob didn't care though, as he simply jiggled in his place, proud of himself.

From that moment you discovered that this alien orb is a terrible jokester, as he would literally pull you from whatever you were doing to just check his new made ones.

And everytime you couldn't help but laugh histerically at his antics, because you wouldn't get the premise at all. All of his jokes never made sense, but were the most hilarious thing you laughed at in a while.

And he would always jiggle with pride after you laughed, bro really thought he gained a fan of his jokes💀.

One day you thought about showing him your world's perspective of humor, as you sat him up on the couch and turned on the tv with popular comedy shows.

Safe to say he would repeatedly jump from his seat, and roll on the couch from side to side, as his purple anubis ears would jiggle uncontrollably.

You took it as a sign of him liking it, and soon enough you both had a routine of watching comedy shows and gasp from laughing.

At first you thought he was just a happy go lucky guy, not realizing he can be sort of a guard dog.

Really, you only saw him being serious when he sensed something and flew to it's direction, only for it to be a racoon that he scared away with mini thunder.

Now you got why he was such a bright color of purple. Not gonna lie, you were a little scared to hold him after that, afraid he'll electrocute the shit out of you😰.

But it never happened, so you guess he's only friendly to you? Honestly, you felt kinda honored to have this status.

Tighnari ♡

"Greetings, suspectable another species of humankind. I am Tighnari, the forest ranger of the sumeru region. It is a pleasure to be in your natural environment, being able to study your world. Though, I would appreciate it if you could help me return back to sumeru. I still have a ton of things to do back there, so please, make sure to fulfill my request."

Is he some type of a scientist? "A pleasure to be in your natural environment, being able to study your world" yeah, my ass.

And he was an ass. Pain in the ass, to be exact.

He wouldn't leave you alone, wherever you would go or whenever time it was. He was always around you, floating and examining your features.

He just can't help himself, you look so strange! And everything around you looks so strange. He just has to know atleast something about the place he is in right now, what type of setting it is, how does it work, and yada yada yada...

That's what lead you to the situation you are in now, as he peeked out of your hoodie pocket, staring at all the contests of the supermarket you were in.

Even if you had told him already a thousand times that he can't go with you because he doesn't look like everybody else, he didn't listen and sneaked inside your clothes, successfully getting out of the house with you.

You desperately tried to cover his enormous ears with your hands, stuffing him further inside the pocket only for him to pop out from the other side. What a nosy aura blob.

It would get even worse when he would fly out to scan some object like salty pickles, thinking of it as peculiar, when in reality the only thing that's peculiar was him.

He would closely watch whenever you would put something in the cart, taking notes on how you hold the product and how you place it inside the metal structure.

He especially got very freaky about your world's greenery, demanding you to go out with him into a park, a nearby forest or literally anywhere where there is some type of plants.

You instead decided to take him into a local botanical garden, and when I say he went crazy, he went crazy.

Stopping every 3 minutes to find a new plant and examine it for about 20 minutes you and him spent the whole day in that garden.

He would poke your shoulder to it being numb, asking you to explain or tell what kind of plant it is, where does it grow, how does it grow, can we take it home, all that nerdy shit.

You did end up taking some small house plants afterwards, due to his unstoppable crying and squeaking, like a child wanting their parent to buy candy in the store.

He then made sure to always bug you to take care of the plant, saying that he is "incapable" of doing so himself. What a troublesome circle.

Oof, this ones LONG. And I'm proud of it😜. Genuinely hope you enjoy this, cuz I spent an eternity writing this😭.

Tag : @vault-of-reblogs

[starwrighter]

I am not a Baby!! (yes you are)

(Previous) (Next) (Masterpost) (Ao3)

(Chapter five lol)

A jarring noise jolted him awake way too soon for his liking. His eyelids still felt like anchors and vague images of a good dream lingered in his mind. If he went back to sleep now the chances of him continuing his dream where it left off were next to zero. As the noise continued Danny found himself pouting, his eyes watering despite not being sad. Frustration bubbled like a hot spring as he whipped his head around to the source. The radio!

All his anger shifted to giddy hope, exhaustion melting away as he rushed to the blinking red light and pressed play. The machine whirred and clicked a robotic voice different from his PDA chiming in

"Playing pre-recorded distress call..."

"This is lifepod 3, uploading our coordinates. We're plugging some holes in our emergency Seaglide, so if we're late for the rendezvous don't panic. Also, don't go home without us. Seriously. 3 out."

A young lady's voice played from the machine, coordinates downloading to his PDA along with the message itself. It felt like a decade had passed since he'd heard a human voice despite only being on this planet for a day at max. Looking at the coordinates, their life pod should be floating around in one of the kelp forests. Danny still looked human, so meeting up with the other survivors probably wouldn't be too scary for them, alarming yes, but not scary.

In all likelihood, the crew of life pod 3 wouldn't still be there when Danny reached the signal. The message had been sent around ten minutes after the crash and Danny was just now receiving it a day later. A rendezvous was mentioned in the distress call, maybe he could get the coordinates from the other pod's radio? The call he received was obviously responding to a distress call other than his. Why he wasn't receiving messages in chronological order was probably the same reason his PDA's blueprints were corrupted and his lifepod's interior was on fire when he woke up.

All he knew was following that signal was the first thing he was going to do when he set out again. Inside the life pod, however, he was going to have breakfast. Toddling over to the storage unit Danny picked out what was supposed to be a block of food. Scrunching up his nose Danny took a bite, it was dense and crumbled when he bit into it yet, was somehow chewy like a fruit gummy. The taste was nothing like fruit in fact it tasted more like meat. Not good meat either, like someone had taken raw steak rolled it around in their yard fresh after mowing, and then sprayed disinfectant on it. It took an entire water bottle to wash away the artificial taste on his tongue! Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if you told him this was expired. It wasn't packaged, it just sat at the bottom of a warm storage unit next to his remaining water bottle and flares.

...

Was this some kind of space rat poison? Did he seriously just eat rat poison, his PDA didn't warn him it was rat poison. It should have warned him if it was rat poison there was no reason the PDA would have to poison him... Unless it wanted to? Did his PDA become sentient because it was sick of his crap? He hadn't even gotten close to the level of annoying his friends and enemies dealt with on a daily basis. If his PDA became sentient it was either a coward or trying to save itself the trouble.

"Hi?" Danny questioned, staring intently at his PDA waiting for a response... Nothing happened, after minutes of waiting silently so as to not interrupt the PDA if it decided to speak nothing happened no pop-up, notification, or comment. It wasn't at all disappointing and if it was that was only because the thought of a sentient AI to talk to sounded super cool.

Ancients, how was he this desperate for interaction already? Where was his fire extinguisher? Shuffling around the lifepod Danny looked under the seats, snatching up the bright red fire extinguisher and clutching it to his chest. Resting his chin on the handle Danny sighed, chubby fingers slipping against the smooth metal. The fire extinguisher wasn't as heavy as it'd been when he first sprayed it pretty soon, Wilson would be as useless for putting out fires as it was for blunt force damage. A knife in his backpack could be justified but a fire extinguisher while swimming in the ocean? A waste of space. Leaving his inanimate friend behind was the practical option but Danny didn't care.

The knife he'd acquired last night might be his main friend from now on but Wilson was the Og. They're going on adventures together and Danny would keep it in his room as a souvenir. A knife would eventually be taken from him but fire extinguishers were for forever! Stuffing Wilson into his bag Danny prepared to leave his lifepod again.

Squeezing the knife in his right hand Danny gave a few test swings. Physically, he's weak but the knife was sharp and it'd do some serious damage if he was careful what he swung at. As much as his food tasted like something you were served in prison this was not prison and throwing hands with the biggest creature on the planet would do him no good. With that said he was going to pick a fight with whoever invented those nutrient blocks, or maybe he'd sick the lunch lady on them? Whoever made these rations deserved to live off of only them for at least a week.

Opening the hatch was easier than it was yesterday, the orange handle turning smoothly with one yank instead of many. Water less foreign against his skin, the wetsuit feeling more natural than it had before. A dive that wasn't skin-tight would still be preferred but at least it was breathable and protected him decently. Swimming had gotten a bit easier, the flippers didn't make a huge difference when you accounted for the heavy oxygen tank strapped to his back. Surprisingly the weight of the new tools in his backpack and the oxygen tank strapped to him didn't drag him down to the seafloor.

Catching a few fish with his teeth to distract the metal muncher. Danny wandered towards the signal. Sticking low to the seabed, he ducked between creeping hiding amongst the vines and using supply crates as cover. Tossing a fish at metal munchers that lurked a bit too close to his hiding place distracted them long enough to get to the next one before they swam to inspect where their snack had come from. His PDA informed him it gave the metal muncher a name when he distracted it long enough to scan it. A "Stalker" is what the AI deemed a suitable name. Danny thought that name was boring, a dramatic name for a creature that Danny found to be scatterbrained and lacked the dedication to hunting the name implied. Its pattern of movement was closer to sneaking than it was to stalking. It was an annoying name choice but it made sense. You couldn't give a living creature the genius name he came up with.

Coral was wrinkled like a brain but colored a bright purple and spat out air bubbles that filled his air tank. Giving him more time to explore before the natural need for air spoiled his fun. Sandstone outcrops popped up more often in the kelp forests, useful silver and gold dropped into his open palms before quickly being stuffed into his backpack.

As he closed in on the signal, body pressed to a grassy seabed a sinking feeling started to fester in his stomach. A feeling that soon shifted to overwhelming grief that hit him like a crowbar to the cranium. Chest tightening as a sunken lifepod clear in his view. If it'd had just been sunken there was hope that it'd happened after the crew moved on, perhaps a Stalker taking a little nibble? No, this lifepod had been exposed to some sort of explosion, metal blackened and jutted outward. The bottom hatch looked to be ripped from the floor, now leaning against the gaping hole just below the bright red 3 labeling the lifepod. While there were bite marks on the pod, parts of the yellow latter were likely torn off by a passing stalker that likely occurred after the initial explosion.

Considering his lifepod was on fire when he woke up, this one exploding for no visible reason was too much of a stretch. Swimming into the sunken pod, prepared for the worst. Mentally preparing himself to see a mangled body or the horrific scene of a lethal incident. The lack of gore upon his entry was both relieving and unnerving. A lack of bodies didn't bring him hope, the hairs standing on the back of his neck and a cold breath stuck in his chest told him with certainty that the crew of this lifepod was dead.

The crew's last voice log confirmed this. A modified power cell, one to supercharge a sea glide to be capable of carrying two people at a higher speed. The math was perfect in theory but the seglide itself wasn't built for the power cell. It was too powerful, the kind you used to power bigger things like prawn suits or seamoths. Like rigging a car battery to power a lightbulb it was doomed from the start Chances were, it started to overheat the moment they turned it on and overloaded a few feet from the pod just like the crew thought it would.

Awful, There were no names on the PDA. No bodies to be buried or cremated and no names to be remembered for grieving. Deaths that he could only mourn in the confines of his mind. Jane and John doe's that died doing their best to ensure survival in a shitty situation. It took everything he had not to cry, though maybe he was already crying but the ocean was washing his tears away without a trace just like it had with these people.

A large displacement of water followed by a not quite shriek of something much bigger than a metal muncher snapped him back. That did not sound friendly! Danny hugged the wall of the lifepod peeking out through one of the many holes made by the stalkers.

That didn't look friendly either.

A gigantic snake-like fish with pelvic fins like silk sleeves. Gills glowed a toxic white, its yellow body shimmering in the daylight. Similar to a hoverfish there were spots lining the fish's back, a large white blob in the shape of a bat on its chest. It glided through the water slowly circling the lifepod, eyes glowing yellow.

"Thirty seconds," Danny could have screamed, the robotic alert like a firecracker going off during silent reading. The giant fish whipped its head around creeping towards the lifepod at an agonizingly slow pace. Heart racing, Danny clung to the side of the lifepod pressing himself as flatly against the pod as he could. Desperate to avoid being spotted he shoved himself underneath a metal panel.

A stalker's roar broke through the water followed by a pained shriek and a body slamming against the sand. Danny took this opportunity to make his escape, vision blurring as he swam to the surface. A gasp of air could never taste any sweeter as he watched a pack of stalkers attempt to eat the giant. The giant just seemed annoyed, their face pinched in what he could only assume was the fish equivalent of exasperation. Batting away the hungry gators with their blanket-like tale, Stalkers attempted to thrash around a creature that was several times bigger than them, thinking they could take him as a group.

This distraction lasted long enough for Danny to flee back to the shallows. Back to the bladderfish and Peepers who didn't look like they could swallow him whole without noticing it. Now Danny didn't mean to judge a book by its cover but he also wasn't willing to swim up to a fish that big, not when he wasn't sure if that was the one who'd had a taste of human flesh.

"Detecting increased local radiation levels. Trend is consistent with damage to the Aurora's drive core, sustained during planetfall"

Well shit, sometimes Danny hated being right.

@pupstim @ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @meira-3919 @blep-23 @hugsandchaos @stargazing-bookwyrm @starlightcat04 @bytheoldwillowtree @zeldomnyo @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart

[draco-glacialis]

Oki so am going insane with this thought process but hear me out please

Agatha’s magic is like a wendigo

It cannibalises other people’s magic with it comes into contact with them no matter the intention

Agatha can’t control it, it’s almost like she’s in a trance

It seems to kinda be somewhat sentient in the sense that; if Agatha truly is in a trance like state then it would be her magic that’s smiling when she siphons power

It seems like no matter how much power Agatha siphons from other witches ‘she’ is always hungry for more

It would also explain Agatha’s hunger for knowledge/power - her trial wasn’t about her harming another coven member; it was about taking “knowledge above her age and station and practising the darkest of magic”

Also the fact that twice (?) she’s made vague cannibalism jokes

Another point is in some sources from what I remember your not suppose to say it’s name. I figure that Agatha would have a similar reputation that it’s bad luck or something to mention her name. Almost as if you’d summon her. She’s used as a cautionary tale for children. She’s given many different monikers (like witch killer etc)

Honestly would love to see Agatha’s trial being her making peace with her magic, learning to control and embrace it but also accepting that it’s a part of her whether she likes it or not.

Like the trial taking place in the forest where her first coven tries to kill her and having her magic by represented by a wendigo chasing them through the forest (the Salem Seven also hunting Agatha down too). Eventually they (the coven) get separated, all bar Agatha are make they way back together but are surrounded by the Salem Seven.

Agatha is on her own being chased by her own magic (not that she realises this) and also ends up cornered however the ‘wendigo’ explains the truth (it being her magic) and that she must make peace with that and it doesn’t make her good nor evil but the intention behind the action does.

Meanwhile the coven learn about the Salem Seven’s version of history (this is the one they already know, it’s the one witch society knows) and either Lilia or Alice realise Agatha has never told her side of the story.

Agatha’s trial would end with her killing the Salem Seven in a similar way to their parents. The coven learn they know very little about Agatha in truth and Agatha learns she can be good and how to use and master her magic (she doesn’t automatically get to master it but does know in theory how to do it). The pyre in the centre would turn into a stair case downwards like all the other trials.

[morninggmitch]

oh lird. heres my color crew ref line up + height chart ! (measured by top of head, horns, ears, hats, and/or antenna dont count!) click for better quality :3 umm click read more for character profiles if ur interested in that! :>

so my kier and dev designs r actually nether imps!! imps being a lesser kind of demon. kier is from a species of imps called crimson forest imp, and likewise dev is a warped forest imp. I have a lot of notes on the two subspecies of imps and their culture that i will probably have to keep to a different post as it's A Lot (can you tell im so autistic over this.)

boosfer.. you may think hes an angel or hails from the end but its actually a lot more complicated than that! no one really knows where hes from and hes technically considered a shapeshifter and can honestly take whatever form he wants (therefore making any design he is drawn as considered canon!) hes probably some kind of demi god honestly. trickster god type beat

jack and baablu are both enderian! jack being a warped forest enderman (subspecies of enderman that live in warped forests. if that wasnt obvious) and baablu... im not so sure. i know i want him to be from the end but not an enderman. possibly some kind of enderman off shoot like jack ? or rare mutation ? idk. regardless. guys from the end!

bubbo and qndres are both what one may consider "enchanted" individuals. in bubbo's case moreso a curse? depends on how you look at it. he was once a human player who was enchanted in some way to become a slime! but since he is enchanted he has special properties like enhancing potion effects when he drinks them :)

as for qndres, he was never human but there was a time where he was not sentient. a very long time ago he was a stone gargolye enchanted to come to life. he can enter a state of hibernation that lasts hundreds of years and will usually embed himself in a wall or sit in a cave when he does, reverting back to a solid stone. he actually met the rest of the color crew when they were doing a manhunt and found his sleeping form carved into the wall of a spawner dungeon (and accidentally woke him up)

as for fantst vitjok and yello... they are most simply anthropomorphic creatures. fantst an axolotl, vitjok a moth, and yello a coyote. not much else i can say about them!!

hey if you scrolled this far thanks for reading all this :) i have lots of thoughts about the color crew (special interest!) and if u want to talk about them to me please please pleaasseeee do not hesitate i will become so insane.

[spacedryadkepler]

malevolent episode 46 spoilers

(rambling thoughts)

i didnt really have any predictions about this episode based on the name, but i was not expecting fae-adjacent horrors and sentient forest 2 electric boogaloo

god i just love little casual, normal conversations that arthur and john get to have sometimes

arthur barely awake, telling john to talk about what he was thinking about cause he cares what john has to say!

following along and engaging with john as best he can, even as he sounds like he could fall back to sleep

they are!! friends!!!

“thank you lily for everything you gave my friend” augghhh arthurrrr

they were being too sweet and normal, so naturally the horrors had to happen

it’s kind of fascinating to see both of them get compelled by something, i don’t think that’s ever happened before

i really like the music that plays when they’re being compelled though, definitely invokes that strange and dangerously magical vibe

the faerie circle bit sure was one way to get arthur to open up about his past!

i almost thought it was gonna be some sort of dancing plague situation where the ring would try to make them dance to death

i’m fascinated by horig, i want to know more about them

arthur calling horig “great one” was wild. amongst all his dealings with various entities, i think this is the first time he’s attempted to feign worship or respect to one

horig saying arthur is already carrying what he needs (to spread horig’s influence).

surely nothing bad will come of that and everything is fine

[squeamishnerd]

I'm Kinda New to Simblr

Lately, I've seen a lot of people who are new to Simblr presenting themselves. I'm not new to Tumblr, I joined in 2019, I think, but I was only lurking and not on the Sims part of Tumblr at all. I didn't start to post my Sims stories until September 2023. At the time it was only to archive the stories that I posted on Twitter.

Now I've been here for a while, and I know that there's a Sims community here, but I don't feel like I'm a part of it, and I want to become a part of it but I don't know how.

Wall of text (not kidding 😅 I can't keep things short) below the "keep reading" cut.

TL;WR: I'm Kats, I play The Sims and I post two Sims stories, which can be found in this master post. I also build and renovate.

Presentation starts further down, you can skip this part if you only want to read the presentation

So, the thing is that I don't have time to read more Sims stories than the ones I already read (several on Twitter, two here), and most simmers here seem to post stories, so therefore I don't interact with people that much, and with the way the comment section works here (for example that comments aren't nested and there isn't even a function to click 'like' on comments) it makes it more difficult to interact with people, at least for me. That's why I don't know how to become a part of the Sims community here.

The thing I feel like my feed lacks the most is pictures of Sims pets. Doesn't matter if it's CAS or live mode, I just want to see more pixel pets 😊 Recommendations are welcome. Don't feel like you have to follow me back if you recommend yourself and I start to follow you.

So, anyway, I thought I could present myself and my Sims stories, in case anyone's interested 🙂

Presentation starts here, if you want to skip the stuff above

Hi, I'm Kats! I started to play The Sims in 2000, and while I mostly play The Sims 4 nowadays I still play The Sims 1 from time to time. I haven't shared any of my The Sims 1 gameplay here (Maybe I should do that?), but I've done so on other social media. I also used to play The Sims 2.

I'm in my 30s and I live in Northern Europe. I have a partner and a cat. I'm a biotechnician and a certified sex educator, but I currently don't work in either of those fields. In my free time I like to play The Sims (obviously 😆), watch TV series, hang out with friends, play board games, take walks in the forest, go on hikes, and travel.

I post two Sims stories on social media. Neither of them are legacies, they're just stories, you get to follow the characters at a very slow pace throughout their lives (I'll probably end the stories when the characters are in their 40s, they're currently in their 20s). The two stories take place in parallel universes, but if you're interested in reading you don't need to read both stories to follow along, even though there are sometimes references to the other universe.

The master post for the stories can be found here. It's also pinned to my profile. My other social media can be found in my Linktree.

The story that I started to post first is called The Brights

This story currently focuses on university students, it has some sci-fi themes with sentient bots, such as servos (called "simoid bots" or just "bots" in the story), utilibots, and robots. The main character is Beren Bright, who grew up in a small, isolated village. He was homeschooled until he was 16, and then went to a regular high school. When he turned 20 he cut all ties with his biological family and all of his friends, changed his surname (to Bright), moved away, and started to study physics at university.

The other story is called The Original Ahriman

I myself think it's a bit of a silly name for a story, but it was the best I could come up with, and it makes sense from the 4th chapter. This story is about a chaotic, evil, mischievous, and very powerful spellcaster, who is trying hard to abide by the rules of society, in a society that doesn't even have very strict laws and rules to begin with. They mysteriously spawned in The Magic Realm as a toddler and was raised by the three Sages.

In both stories I include a lot of pre-made sims, and original characters are introduced little by little, so it should be relatively easy to get to know my OCs.

The things I've seen others say, and also are things I strive for, when it comes to what my stories include over all, are characters with diverse personalities, lots of foreshadowing, jokes sprinkled everywhere, both wholesomeness and drama, funny intentional tropes, and, especially, detailed worldbuilding. I LOVE worldbuilding!

I've noticed that readers on twitter think that I plan everything for my stories, but I both plan things or go with the flow, I let my sims decide more than it seems, and I often let them change my plans because they have a tendency to do very fitting things that I didn't even think of myself. Either way, I always make sure that whatever I include works with the worldbuilding.

I didn't use mods for the first 28 chapters of The Brights and the first 14 chapters of The Original Ahriman. I do use mods today, but only the pose player and bug fixes. Even though I use mods I'll always have the back of those who don't, no matter the reason, because it's really silly how some people (especially on Twitter) act towards simmers who don't use mods. Let people play their game however they want. I'm also WCIF friendly.

I've also created two machinimas, they're part of the stories, so they contain spoilers for chapter 14 and 29, respectively, of The Brights. But if you're interested and don't mind spoilers, or just don't plan to read my stories at all, you can find them here and here 😊 Watch them with sound turned on.

Btw, this thing with being a certified sex educator kinda led to including quite a bit of woohoo education in my stories. At the beginning I was planning to not do this, but it just kinda happened 🤷🏼

I also build and renovate, but I only post builds on Twitter and Bluesky, but here's one of them, a winter themed cottage in the woods, you can find it on the gallery.

And here's a renovation of Elixirs and Brews, which can also be found on the gallery.

I think that's all I wanted to say. Ended up being a lot though 😅

Questions are welcome 😊

[raccoonfallsharder]

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip.✮part five. montana.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 5/7 | word count: 1975.

what makes a person a monster?

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

Wanda hadn’t felt much like talking since they’d left the bar. She can’t possibly describe the lurch in her lungs when she’d woken alone in the room, and found Rocket—

gone.

She peels it apart when they get in the car: silent, lost in her thoughts. Rocket doesn’t turn on his music right away, and when she casts a sideways glance at him, he looks vaguely uncomfortable: shifting in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists. He looks like he wants to be taking something apart, inventing something new — anything to take his mind off whatever’s eating him inside. 

After the scene in the bar, when the bartender had poured Rocket’s drink so shakily that the mouth of the bottle had clanked against the glass tumbler, Wanda had sat beside her companion quietly. The bartender had wisely left the bottle behind, and then had gotten to work with the rest of the wide-eyed, ashen hotel staff to clean up the glass that had been broken in the altercation. She’d watched her furry colleague bemusedly as he sulked over his liquor, and had tried to tell herself that she had only been concerned because Rocket had been missing, and she’d known that someone walking around looking like a sentient raccoon could only get in trouble, no matter how well-intentioned and well-behaved he’d been attempting to be.

She had tried to tell herself it was just concern for a missing hero in a cruel world.

But her reaction had been too visceral to keep herself convinced. As she’d unfolded the truth of herself, wincing, she’d had to acknowledge that the way fear had suddenly ripped through her belly had been all too similar to the ache she’d felt when she’d lost Pietro: screaming hollowly at the root of her lungs, at the vagus nerve laced against her heart. A shrieking void in the center of a fiery cyclone. It had been an agony of terror: to think her new, small, sarcastic friend had been taken from her like everyone else.

When she’d seen him — safe, but on the verge of becoming a victim of his own temper — she’d wrapped her power around him as carefully as she knew how. And when she’d realized what was happening, her own temper had surged: some strange combination of fire and ice. 

She’s so tired of people being treated as less-than, of lives being overlooked. 

Especially the lives she loves. 

Rocket still doesn’t speak. They make their way through a number of national forests before he even hesitantly reaches out to fuss with the music again. She says nothing as something mellow spills from the speakers, but she can feel her shoulders ease. It takes another hour before his feet are kicking again, and he’s humming something low and husking along with the lyrics. 

“Uh, hey,” he says at last, his voice rasping as the sun begins to cast a melting-gold crust over the edge of the trees ahead of them, light hitting the western crest of the world and sprawling upward in sprays of topaz and rose and aquamarine. “Thanks for — I dunno. Sorry for fucking up at the last place. And thanks for, uh, stepping in.” He shifts next to her, one shoulder hitching uncomfortably. She watches from her periphery as his lip curls in a clenched-jaw grimace, like he’s tasted something sour. 

She weighs that quietly. 

“I was as angry as you were, once I understood what was happening,” she admits.

The wince lingering in the corner of his mouth and eyelids softens. “Saw that,” he acknowledges after a long minute, spooled with the crooning tones of whomever’s singing from the zune now. “Don’t know — I think only Nebs has ever, uh. Stuck up for me like that.” His voice sounds parched and cracked and starved, like he’s not certain what he’s trying to say. Like maybe the words feel disloyal, somehow, to his absent friends. Something answering cracks open in her ribs. She knows he loved the rest of the Guardians — Pete, he’d mentioned, referring to the owner of the zune. Gamora, whom Wanda has gathered had been sacrificed to Thanos’ goals, just like Vis. But it hurts her to think that Rocket’s little adopted family wouldn’t have been just as offended on his behalf as she had been. Or maybe they would have been, and he just doesn’t realize it. Either way, it hurts. It hurts to think that he believes no-one would have been moved to intercede, to demand respect on his behalf, or to offer comfort.

Pietro would have devastated anyone whom he’d perceived as treating her as inferior. And in his own gentle, wise way, Vis would have fought for her as well. 

At least he has Nebula, now, she thinks, and a space inside her loosens. She hasn’t spoken with the awkward blue cyborg — not anymore than she’s spoken to anyone else on the team, preferring to stay off to the side, needing to observe. But knowing that Rocket feels like “Nebs” would step in for him allows some of the tension in her neck and shoulders to ease.

“You — you got a lot of power,” Rocket says tentatively. “As much as Danvers, maybe.”

She feels herself go watchful and wary again. The silence is heavy in the little car, even smothering the faint music trailing from the speakers. 

“Or more,” she admits at last, quietly.

He acknowledges her addition with a mild grunt and a nod.

“Ya know, the Guardians of the Galaxy numbers are lookin’ pretty slim these days,” he says musingly. “F’you ever wanna get off this planet. Could find a spot for you, prob’ly.” He slants her a taunting grin. “Pretty sure we’re more fun than the Avengers. Less stuffy and judgy, too.”

She can’t help the delicate snort that scrapes up the back of her throat, edged with laughter. And here she’d been worried that he was scared of her. Instead, twice in two days, now, he’s made her laugh.

Regular laughter seems like such a distant memory. It is a distant memory, and a frail one. She’d had it before the Stark industries mortar shell, and then again in her time with Vis — but certainly not since. 

Other than that first time she’d seen him bickering with Nebula on the compound lawn.

“Not that every part of this planet sucks,” Rocket admits grudgingly from beside her. The last flickers of sun-gold ricochet off the distant line of tree and mountain, settling into a rosy-lavender and hydrangea-blue. “This section’s kinda nice, if you’re into that sort of thing. Reminds me of specifical parts a’ Berhert or Foresteria.”

She considers the Montana terrain. “Are you into that sort of thing?”

He smirks. “Not enough places to get into trouble for me,” he says with a sideways toss of his head. “No gambling. Or booze.” He pauses to waggle his brows at her, so exaggerated that she can see the gesture even in her periphery. “Or tail.”

This time, when she laughs, it hasn’t crawled up her spine: it’s as bright as it had been the other day, so merry in the air that it’s utterly foreign to her ears.

“You are ridiculous,” she tells him, but he only gifts her a shit-eating grin.

“What about you?” he asks. “You ever think about runnin’ away from Terra? Come hang out with the cool kids in the stars?”

She snorts again and glances sideways at him in the melting velvet shadows. How does the space inside Natasha’s car, with its ruined dashboard and sound system, feel so much easier than anywhere she’s ever been in the past five years? How does it feel so much easier than anywhere she’s ever been at all, unless it was with Vis?

“Not exactly,” she says quietly.

“Not exactly?”

She hesitates and chews the inside of her lip at the corner of her mouth. 

“I think about making a place for myself,” she admits after a handful of quiet breaths. The song on the zune blurs into something new. “A place where… where things are the way they’re supposed to be.”

The quiet expands. Doubles.

“Whaddaya mean?” her companion asks at last. There’s tension in his voice, but it’s surprisingly quiet. As soft as she imagines his fur.

She hesitates. “I could — I think I could do it. Make a place — like in the old TV shows. Somewhere perfect, where people can be happy. Where I can be happy.”

The silence drawls through the music, and she can feel Rocket’s anxiety. She’d been silly to think he might be scared of her before, because now she can feel it — crackling and tense. But… it’s also careful. Testing. Cautious. She knows if she’d said something like this to any one of the Avengers, they’d probably try to lock her up immediately. They don’t understand her magic, and they don’t understand her. And they certainly don’t understand her pain. 

After all, they’ve always been able to look away.

And while she can tell that Rocket doesn’t like what she’s shared — the dangerous little truth she’s laid out between their armrests — somehow, she doesn’t feel judged.

“I get that,” he says at last, his voice grudging and slow. “Wanting that. Me myself, I never had the — I never had the power to sort of…  reshape the galaxy into what I wanted.” He pauses, and she can feel him gathering his thoughts in the dusk like the fireflies that used to litter the Sokovian summer grasses. When he speaks again, his voice has grown as dark as the world outside their car: grim and solemn and hard. “But I definitely been one a’ the poor morons who got caught up in someone else’s idea of perfect, and I can promise — you try to tie other people up like that, and you’re only gonna become somebody’s nightmare.”

She takes her eyes off the road, even though she shouldn’t — not here, in the dusk and the trees and the mountains. Her eyes find his in the shadows: glowing red to glowing red. She flicks her gaze over him: the broad shoulders that should be sloped inward, the opposable thumbs where there should only be dexterous fingers, the hard-packed muscle where she would expect a soft layer of fat. She’d decided that maybe he was an alien — and perhaps that’s true — but now she realizes there’s more to it than just that. 

Someone’s shaped him into this.

Who was your nightmare? she thinks, and remembers Ultron again. Trying to reshape the world. It’s not the first time in the last five years that her fantasies of recreating a small slice of the world have given her pause — but it is the first time that the uneasiness has outweighed the solace. 

Then she thinks of the labs. Of Hydra, yes — and the other one. The one she still isn’t sure if she remembered or dreamed up.

Rocket clears his throat, as if he knows she’s wondering what happened to make him the way he is. 

“Take that asshole Thanos,” he mutters at last, and there’s a darkness to his tone that matches her own midnight vortex of thoughts when it comes to the Mad Titan. “So frickin’ committed to what he thought would make the universe better, that he killed half of it and broke everybody else.” Her companion scowls and mutters something in a language she doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter, because his words have already opened up a pit in her belly: pinching and frightened.

“I wouldn’t be killing anyone,” she says, and she’s surprised by the stubbornness in her voice. It makes her flinch, and that cramp in her belly tightens apprehensively — but she goes on anyway. Trying to convince herself, she realizes, even as she speaks. “I’d give them perfect lives. I’d make them be happy.”

He lifts his head and even though her eyes are back on the road, she feels his heavy, quiet, steady stare. 

“Can’t make anybody be anything, witch.” He clears his throat, and his eyes release her. “Not without making yourself a frickin’  monster.”

sometimes i fuck around with comics-canon and throw it into my mcu fanfics so uh be ready for that with the next chapter. we're gettin weird

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[tagidearte]

"Pongo, the Imp Clown. Some say he used to be a Star, others say that's just his delusional ramblings." -Original Character for a (so far) unnamed Original Story.

I'm still in the early stages of designing him and his "friend" Pinga. However, I decided to share these initial drafts regardless! This way someone other than me can join in on the character design journey! Let's see how much he changes until the final design! Thoughts below.

Concept Log #1 - Pongo

Aka I want to ramble and my friends don't care robot clowns. Really big rambly rant below.

Also no, this is not a d/ca oc. Trust me, making a robot clown/jester is like walking into a laser trap when you've been obsessing over those two for the past three years. The only d/ca inspiration here was making Pongo warm coloured and Pinga cool coloured. If anything, this was more inspired by the Funtimes.

For now, I hate all the outfits. They don't fit his vibe, his personality, his whole persona. He's an imp clown, but he has... Delusions of grandeur. I need to make him more princely, perhaps? I'll attempt that next time. I already have the chibi base, so it'll be relatively quick.

I also want to make his casing... Different. Either paler with pink shadows, or a darker, more solid pink. He's meant to have only warm colours, contrasting with Pinga (you'll see him some other time) who only has cold ones, so no blues or greens... But I must say. Darker pink will probably win. When I painted his face white it looked too much like a Slay Button En/nard. In fact, I added all that eye and lip makeup to make him look less like En/nard.

The coil torso is the most important part. On a final drawing I'll make it have more loops, which should give the impression the thing is stronger and capable of more powerful bounces (which can hurt you if he decides to launch) - but for these concepts I merely half assed it. The star shaped hat with the back cone coming out is my favourite part!

Hope you enjoy his star shaped nipple coverings as much as I did coming up with them! Originally (not pictured here) he was going to have a big star on his chest, to mimic what I see in a lot of jack in a box's boxes. But the nipple coverings were so raunchy and funny, yet still appropriate for younger audiences (in world), that I left them in. Him being a reformed villain (in the media he's built after, inside the world) allows for messing around with the makeup and eccentricity, but we can't go to far - he needs to look PG while being predominantly adult/teen entertainment as an amusement park bot.

For context... Ever since I got into FN4F I've wanted to do something similar - with a location and mascots -, but instead of an USA animal band, I wanted it to be based on a cartoon set in a magical forest (like Noddy from my childhood - with a city of living toys and two imps that lived in the eViL wOoDs-, but funny for all ages rather than so 5 year old centric). Overtime, the thought of sentient robots forced to work - objects that were given a soul, trapped in a synthetic shell that is their body, dependent on humanity and property to it despite technically being alive, easy to manipulate via some changes in code - wormed itself in.

But I never really had the proper setting or characters for it. That, and I have another original story that has plagued my dreams ever since I was 12/13.

Until now.

I won't go into setting details yet. Let me just say Pinga and Pongo are a ping pong pun, because they both bob up and down with coils - Pongo on his torso, which makes him kind of like a jack in a box; and Pinga on his legs, which allows him to jump really high. They are based on cartoon characters that exist in world, from a movies series that ended up with a cartoon too, sort of like disney stuff but... Not disney. The entire mythos of that company's content takes place in one single world/franchise, it just explores different parts of it with each new series/movie/game.

Pongo is an egomaniac, programmed the be flirty to adults, who struggles on the line between property and self. He used to give a lot of trouble to the park, because his AI allowed him to learn new tricks rather quickly... and most weren't really all that safe or appropriate. So, time and time again, he got sent back to fix it. Having his "brain" messed with has made him deeply afraid of not behaving like a machine, which clashes with how self pleasing he is - you just don't realize it at first, because he's programmed to be a flirty little demon with an attitude. It's just that his real attitude is much more... intense.

Let's see if posting this online makes me not put the project aside too quickly lmao.

[radiance1]

Okay, so, I saw your Chaos emeralds DC X Dp prompt and I thought, "What about The Digimentals from digimon 02?" Think about it, they are abstract and embody certain Virtues and concepts tied to them! What if Danny, Sam, and Tucker did the thing with Digimentals instead of the Emeralds! It'd be fun and interesting to think up the Armor evos for them, because they all have different point with each Crest. Like Danny Definitely has a wolf or other big canine for the friendship Digimental due to his protectiveness towards it friends, plus his affinity to Canine ghosts in the show, I'm willing to bet many of his Armor evos would be canine related, like Sincerity would be like a Shinto Fox Priest and Hope would be Canis Major or the Dog star.

-Just incase the ideas of the Digimental are foreign to you? They don't need to be inspired by every concept of the digimental.-Courage: bravery, Reptiles, Sun, Religious beliefs related to sun, dinosaurs, Minor dragon, fire.

-Friendship: standard forest animals, Ice or lightning.

-Love: wind, flying, affection, love towards certain things(abstract, love of home, friends, romance, platonic, Hatred(the negative side of love as it is not its opposite, rather its dark side), native American elements.

-Sincerity: plants and Japanese(shinto and taoism) culture.

-Knowledge: Earth, insects, drills.

-Reliability: water, aquatic life(natural or mythical) and or combined with aquatic craft(vehicles).

-Kindness: friendliness, compassion, Cutelike, Red Gloves for some reason.

-Light: Egyptian myth, Angel like wings.

-Hope: stars, Greek mythology, constellations, zodiac.

-Miracles: fairly abstract one, mainly golden armor, (possible ideas be like divine beings, or even imbodiments of a miracle or being able to bring out certain miracles, like a Djinn). Or being able to do something conceivably impossible, like becoming a Flying Elephant!

-Fate/destiny: similar to miracles, gold armor, being able to affect fate in some way, change the fate of others, to control your own destiny.

I'm sorry, I've been looking at this anyway I can and can't, really, think of much for this...

But imagine Constantine getting absolutely dogpiled by three teens just because he breathed wrongly around them while the big three is calmly sipping tea with one of said teens parents.

Constantine is out here magicking his life away, not knowing what he even did wrong, all because three kids decided to just ruin his day.

And you know what? They did indeed, effectively ruin his day even harder than it was already.

Meanwhile, Batman is done in the Fenton lab, stoic face yet marveling at the technology they managed to make with household items and limited amounts of money.

Wonderwoman is fisting fighting sentient food and wondering if she could find a way to take these home, while Clark is just sitting there being there pretty and talking with Jack Fenton.

Of course, Superman and Wonderwoman can hear Constantine fighting for his life, but its like, whatever.