#agile frog

[weeklyfrogpod]

This week's froggy friend is a right classic one, innit bruv?

[explorerrowan]

So, in honor of AO3 going live again, and in recognition of @magicalgirlmindcrank being bold enough to post her very good story publicly, I'm going to post my own fics where people may peruse at their leisure. (Links aren't embedding right for some reason? Sorry)

L'Art et L'Artifice

When giant plant aliens invade in the middle of a heist, Geneviève Diamant, aka the infamous thief La Grenouille, finds herself caught in the act.

Rhapsody in Green

Millie has lived in an isolated life-pod her entire life. She is treated little better than an unintelligent AI by most humans, and is currently serving as a science vessel's navigation computer. What happens when the one human that treats her like a person turns her and the rest of the ship over to the giant plant aliens?

These are both set in the Human Domestication Guide setting, where giant, benevolent, plant aliens conquer humanity for their own good and make the belligerent ones into happy adorable pets.

Read the original story by GlitchyRobo here, and more stuff can be found on the wiki here.

[martiancount1877]

Pepe Romero - Bulerias

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Mʏ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Bɪʀᴅ || 𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: I've become obsessed with him

"Little bird! Hold up...you do not know which creatures could be lurking about." Elrond shouted trailing behind you.

"How will I be able to protect you when you are unable to stay in one place for more than two seconds!" He shouted glancing at the wet stones as you seemed to be gliding across.

An airy laugh escaped your lips as you paused on one of the rocks, your fingers clutching your dress as you tilted your head to the side. "Oh yes! Protect me dear Eldron....from the ankle deep water." You teased continuing on your way.

Elrond huffed, following you on the stones, his light and careful footsteps making sure not to even get his boots wet

"I will not be mocked" His voice as he carefully maneuvered across the rocks. "The water can be hiding dangerous things and not to mention it's easy to trip....I do not wish for you to injure yourself."

Letting out a hum, you continued to hop from rock to rock until you finally reached the spot of land dropping your dress into the dirt.

"And pray tell me what dangerous things could be hiding in the waters?" You teased.

Finally managing to cross and step down on the land, he made his way towards you not even thinking about the question.

"well there could be fish" he paused "or a very angry otter maybe, or the most dangerous of all: frogs, you clearly can't take on a frog on your own"

Throwing your head back for a laugh you stepped close to the man placing your hand on his chest with a grin forming on your face."Oh yes! My dear Elrond! Please protect me from the vicious frog. He may hop at me!"

Elrond chuckled, his chest moving under your hand as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Do not under estimate the frog, their looks are deceiving"

The elf warned playfully before his arm pulled you even closer, your chest gently colliding with his chest.

Gaze softening, you let your lips brush across his cheek. "You're adorable."

"and you're reckless" he said, his tone more serious, as he felt your lips against his cheek and his breath hitched and his cheeks began to flush a very soft shade of pink, but a pink shade none the less, despite being centuries old he still wasn't used to the affect you had on him.

Letting your fingers clutch his robe, a giggle left your lips.

'Cute' you couldn't help but think.

"Since I am so reckless...I bet you can't catch me." With a wink you gave him a playful shove then took off running through the forest.

Elrond could help but just stare for a split second, a little speechless, his cheeks a soft pink as he watched you run off before he snapped out of it the thoughts racing through his mind.

"oh that just isn't fair!"

He shouted as he started to run after you, managing to keep up with you despite you having a head start off of your earlier push and shoving, the elf was determined to catch you.

Your laugh echoed throughout the forest, feet barely touching the ground as you ran, your hair flowing behind you intending on taking him to one of your favorite spots.

The elven lord could only manage to curse under his breath,as he found it hard to catch up to you, the elf was fast and agile but his robes were slowing him down quite a bit, the only thing he was thankful for was the fact the forest was mainly open, so he wasn't having to duck under low branches and weave in-between trees to get to you.

Rushing through the fields, you slowed to a stop nearing the edge of a cliff that over looked a lake. Chest heaving as you glanced over your shoulder flashing him a grin.

"Fancy a swim?"

Holding your hand out for him, you tiled your head to the side.

It took a moment or two for the poor elf to finally catch up to you, his own chest heaving and breath heavy in an attempt to properly breathe, a hand on a tree supporting his weight.

"you...You are a menace" Elrond wheezed between breaths, before looking up at you then down towards the lake below as he grasped your hand softly.

"But you love it." You whispered, your eyes mischievous as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest as he gently squeezed your hand. "Anything for you, my little bird."

Smile brimming with happiness, you tugged him forward leaping off the edge of the cliff still holding his hand into the water bellow.

A shout leaving his lips, a laugh leaving yours.

He would do anything for you, for his little bird.

[feelo-fick]

ITS PILLBUG CHILLCHUCK!!! BUGCHUCK!!!! CHILBUG!!!! PILLCHUCK!!!! teketekatekateketekateka (<- sound of him skittering across the floor)

this started out as a joke design but then i got really invested halfway through

(inspired by @buniix3's hc on this post and the many jokes about him being a bug)

as a side note, an explanation on a pun thats just for me : "teka" means "wait" or "hold on" in Filipino, but it also happens to be an onomatopoeia for bug/skittering noises, so when hes saying "teka! teka!" hes practically making bug sounds despite it being an actual word HAHAHA

+ some design notes :

- his two hair thingys on his head became antenna (<- as if they werent practically antenna already)

- his bag is/resembles a monkey cup (a plant shaped like a pitcher that lures prey in with nectar until they slip and fall into the "cup" and get digested - similar to that man-eating plant in ep. 2)! also i wanted to make it vaguely similar to the frog suit, just because i like that outfit and i feel that it should be memorialized

- i dont think this is true to actual pillbugs, but i made him have claw-like (or maybe hoof-like is more fitting) hands and feet because uhhh i thought itd be fun, + ants have them im pretty sure

- the open toed shoes are mostly because i wanted to show the hoofs but you could also reason that its for dexterity/agility purposes

anyways i like him... buggo.... beady ass eyes... love that guy

[demilypyro]

Oh. A poison dart frog, of course. A red one. The best kind of frog. I get to be poisonous! And they look lithe and agile. And red.

[yellydany]

VAMPIRE KILLER FROG 🐸 🩸 (Nosferas Venari) Also known as Eztlicueyatl (Blood frog) or Tzinacamiztli (Bat death)

"A voracious amphibian-like species that adapted to hunt vampires. Its origins are vague and shrouded in mystery but an hypothesis suggests it could have been the result of selective breeding or nature’s “way” of dealing with the ecological imbalance vampires caused through centuries. Whichever the reason, one thing is clear: these hunters evolved in such fashion they became the night creatures’ bane.

Every bodily function feels almost engineered in eerie accuracy to strike at their very weaknesses- such as the tip of the tail (bone) they sharpen to resemble a stake, the muscle reflexes and athletic composition to catch up with their supernatural agility and a blackened coat which absorbs the bouncing light of nocturnal eyes paired with drastically lowering their body temperature (essentially becoming ‘invisible’ in the dark). Although they may prefer a stealthy approach they show no fear if they must engage in direct confrontation. There’s no sexual dimorphism albeit females are more common in nature compared to the rare male sights and not much is known about the behavior with others of their kind as they are solitary. But such is their intelligence that it would be safe to assume they study- and learn from both their prey’s movement and environments given the observations on this beast.

Worse yet- for vampires- they have more cunning ways of hunting for a meal.

The Nosferas frog is able to produce a unique secretion mix of blood, mucus and gastric fluids which is all over their bodies- from the inside and out. More interestingly they have a way to regulate its acidic components to either use as a melting gag weapon, dissolving and trapping pathogens or simply increasing its PH. Essentially, the body is extremely moldable thanks to this odd slimy substance that makes it almost feel like liquid and comes in handy in various situations such as protecting their brood eggs by swallowing them. It is also the most crucial function in the capturing of their vampiric prey as the scent of this bloody secretion lures them and other carnivores in. Once they come in sight they eject their multiple stomachs through gastric eversion to latch onto the victim and begin the digestion early. The vampire skulls are then proudly kept and displayed given the very transparent look of the lower side of the body.

Despite it being a terrifying organism by all means, they have shown vague signs of affection toward humans- some of whom have tamed and kept them as exotic guardian pets against the supernatural plague. In most areas of the land however they underwent a ban given their dangerous and unsettling nature."

[almostfoxglove]

GOING DOWN

an I'LL CARRY YOU one shot

written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Javier Peña x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k TROPE: #14 Trapped in an elevator CW: Claustrophobia, description of a panic attack, excessive alcohol consumption, characters kiss while very drunk but they're in love and desperately down, so much yearning.

SUMMARY: You and Javier get stuck in an elevator after a New Years party.

Takes place within the timeline of part II (characters are 25) - I recommend reading the first and second installments for these characters to make sense (so sorry).

READ GOING DOWN ON AO3.

part I & II | series masterlist | series on ao3 | main masterlist

Tonight the moon hangs like a cardboard set piece painted in icy blues. The whole sky awash with strange and opaque cover, giving the streets of Laredo a backdrop befitting the theatrics of one year’s death and another year’s birth. Probably won’t see the fireworks with all these clouds, but you don’t mind. Not when you’re already three shots deep—still yet to make it to the party—with Javier leaning against you on the sidewalk. “Should wear sequins more often,” he smirks, his breath sparkling against your cheek, carbonating the air. “Suits you.”

You roll your eyes, knock your elbow into his ribs, and send him stumbling a few steps back as you stride ahead, hands quickly skirting down the front of your dress. Hopeless, really. Even if the breeze were to settle, there’s no way you don’t accidentally flash someone tonight. No way you haven’t flashed half the people the two of you have wandered past already, staring up at each brooding apartment tower trying to make sense of the shadowed building numbers in the dark.

You’re getting closer now, you think. Just a block or so to go.

“Cabrón,” you chide, as Javier jogs up to fall into step with you again. Those long legs—always agile, strutting around like some loose-hipped wildcat. You can huff and speed-walk all you like, but there’s no world in which he doesn’t catch up with that smirk haunting the corner of your eye. That flint that hisses in his gaze, the spark before a fire. Twenty-five, the new year looming. Dressed up for some party neither of you care enough about to show up on time for, forget trying to remember the name of who’s hosting. Someone from college. Who knows. All that matters is the glimmer of it all: a whole night of liquor and music and clothes you’d never wear anyplace else and Javier—Javier, right here, choosing you all night.

A frog for a heart, you croak at the thought. One part guilt and another terror: how glad you are that Lorraine is off in Houston for the holidays, leaving him with no one to celebrate with but you.

But the real trouble isn’t guilt or fear—the trouble is that he doesn’t look troubled. He doesn’t look like his girlfriend isn’t here, like he’s missing anyone. Doesn’t look the slightest bit disappointed to be wandering around the city all night with you.

Sighing, Javier exhumes two cigarettes from his jacket pocket—a blazer you found at a thrift store together that fits him villainously, so snug in the shoulders—and pinches both filters between his lips to light from the cup of his hand and his wheezing lighter. You cross your arms, feigning that your attention is pinned solely on the passing buildings that slap down the long shadows through which you stride, and wait for him to hold one out to you.

He smirks as you take it, his smooth cheeks hollowing with a drag. He’s started to grow a mustache and it still looks silly to you, that dark slash across his cupid’s bow that seven years ago he let you kiss. It’ll suit him in a matter of weeks. In a matter of months, you’ll no longer remember what his face was like without it. Or you will, but you wouldn’t ever choose to go back.

“Told you we went too far, baby,” Javier says now, watching as you take your first long breath, kissing lipstick to the filter graced first by his mouth.

You shake your head, slip the cigarette to your hand, and point it at the crosswalk up ahead. “S’that one,” you tell him, blowing smoke from the corner of your mouth.

Without needing to say, you fall into make-believe—some echo of being children together, a habit neither of you care to kick—and at the stoop of the apartment building Javier swoops around you, cigarette clinging to his bottom lip, and yanks open the glassy front door with a little bow. “After you,” he smirks, his dark eyes slinking to your bare legs as you pass.

“Qué caballero,” you reply.

Gold light in the lobby, a doorman standing guard behind a matte black desk. The elevator slips down to greet you with a graceful whoosh.

Javier whistles as you thumb the topmost button. Penthouse. “Fancy,” he says.

“Parents must be rich,” you agree.

He’s beautiful, like always. Cheeks blushing from the brisk night air. An eternity of him reflects in the glossy elevator mirrors as you rise—a long queue of his blazered shoulders, his throat bobbing as he swallows, his wide hand passing the cigarette back to his lips. Between you, fronds of smoke rise like the spines of ferns. A forest of your indulgence, the way you pretend. It’s not invisible, how he watches you with interest, hardly bothering to hide the glimpses he claims of your hips, your collarbones, the straps balanced on your shoulders. The pain of your friendship is not that Javier doesn’t see you—it’s that he does. Always has, from the very first day.

It’s that he sees you, and doesn’t want you.

You aren’t Lorraine.

Now his brows pinch together, forming that worried bracket above his nose. It feels as if you’ve been rising for hours, but that could be the liquor sponging things, making them blur. Minutes and hours that too easily appear the same. “Tell me,” he says, reading you. Around him, the mermaid-color of your dress sparkles, drags out in the infinite reflections, but you can never see your own face—the angle is wrong—so you don’t know what you look like to him. How worried, how afraid, how convincing.

A grin for him alone, the private kind. Your lips pulling at one corner as you drink down smoke with a nod. “Don’t think I’m drunk enough,” you admit, and Javier huffs softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

Just as the elevator pings, its silver door sweeping open in welcome, he glides up to hang one long arm around your neck, pulling you against his chest as you walk out into the party. There’s that hearth, that home which you’d know in any dark: a smell that has over the years imprinted itself onto your very bones—cigarette smoke and skin, the bergamot in his cologne. Javier nudges his lips against your temple, the still sharp prickle of his mustache scraping your skin, and mumbles, “We’ll fix it.”

He almost never lies to you and this is no exception. The party—already knee-deep into raucous chaos in your absence—is electric inside, a hive of buzzing streamers and proud balloons doomed to wilt by morning. Everywhere are dresses like yours, sequins and sparkles and slashes at the leg, but no one looks like Javier. There’s no competition, never has been. Every other man here in a nice shirt is just some guy you forget between shots and glasses of champagne.

Several of which you and Javier drink, always from just one glass. The mark of his lips melding with the mark of yours on a plastic flute. Not once all night does he wander off and leave you on your own; there is always something of his somewhere on you. A hand brushing stray locks behind your ear, his bicep settling against yours as you rest against the kitchen island, a palm laid over your spine when he leans in to hear you over the party’s din. Briefly he’ll entertain conversation with someone if they approach—the host of the party with glitter on her cheeks; someone’s cousin who’s heard all about him, somehow; a pretty thing from his psychology class—but never with his full attention and never for long.

Soon the drinks shimmer in your bodies—and yes, you feel it too in his. Like you share just one sometimes, like a cigarette.

“Come, cariño,” Javier says, two songs from midnight.

Fixed like he promised, you feel just drunk enough to let him whirl you into the crowded living room where two walls open onto balconies that look out over the wintered city. There’s that blue moon again, no less barren than usual at its outpost in the sky but somehow painted, you think, dressed up for the occasion. Then Javier pulls you against him, hips already swaying, his forehead damp against yours as you start to dance, and all thoughts of the world beyond him evaporate.

Though you’re a terrible dancer—every bit as left-footed as he is lithe—it feels as if the parquet floor is a sheet of ice on which you skate, never faltering nor in danger of falling so long as you can feel his hands. “See?” comes his voice, the press of his lips to your ear over the caw of music pulsing from the walls. “You’re not so bad.”

His eyes crinkling at the corners when the hand at your back presses you closer, presses you against him: a change in choreography he makes no announcement for, but you don’t mind. You can press your cheek against his collarbone like this, nose notched against his throat, and breathe him in. Imagining he’s yours as the crowd chants its countdown—riotous in its build and yet you’d swear that you’re alone. That it’s just you and him, this body you know so well.

“Must be drunker than you look, baby,” you reply, grinning mostly to his chest, one hand drawing lazy patterns over the nape of his neck and the other planted over his speeding heart, beneath his. Your voice sluggish, drowsy. You’re drunker than you look, too.

Why else would you touch him like this, where people can see. People that for all you know, know Lorraine.

Javier’s chest shakes with a laugh you can’t quite hear over the sudden thunder of fireworks disrupting the sky. Neither of you look up for midnight; you don’t kiss. You just sway and sway and pretend until he ghosts his lips over the top of your head, mumbling let’s go home into your hair.

Something he’s said a thousand times before, somehow transformed. To your champagne-stained ears, it sounds brand new.

A thief in those sinful slacks, thighs rigid beneath their taper, Javier takes your hand and winds you between strangers, snatching an opened bottle of champagne off a table without breaking his easy stride. Somehow the elevator appears in an instant, as if it’s waited all night for the two of you to slip out early. Javier smacks the lobby button and the door slinks closed, muffling the cries for a newborn year as he tips the champagne bottle to his lips. A slug of liquid crystal slipping from the corner of his mouth, over the curve of his chin, down the slope of his neck.

How you long to lick it from his skin. To redo that night in your dorm room seven years ago, show him how much better you are now. How much more you want him.

But you’ll compromise; you always do. You settle for taking the bottle and swigging your share of the gold. As you swallow, chin tilted to watch the floor number shrink above the buttoned panel, the light in the elevator flickers, but you write it off as a long, drunken blink.

Javier bristles beside you. “Did you feel—” he starts to say, cut off by a groan in the walls, a sudden stutter.

The glossy elevator buckets in an instant. Your stomach flips like you’re going to be sick. You’re not sure exactly how it happens, but your eyes slam shut and the heat of his body clamps over yours like a shield in the darkness, one hand holding your head in the safe hollow of his neck as you plummet.

You think you might scream.

Then with a jolt the world comes to a screeching halt. The elevator stills and you open your eyes, lashes fluttering against Javier’s skin. The moment he feels you move, both his hands cradle your face, his pupils blown black by fear. “Are you—shit, are you okay?” he asks, his voice scrubbed hoarse. Maybe he was the one who screamed. Maybe you’re not sure whose body you felt that in.

Nodding, you swallow. “Are you?”

He nods. “Think—” voice gone again as he cranes over one shoulder, refusing to let go of your face. “Think we’re stuck.”

Your eyes round, owlish in their panic. Not panic for you, though.

Panic for him.

Already his hands have begun to stutter on your cheeks. Not pulling away, only trembling—the first shivers before a quake. “Hey, hey, baby,” you say quickly, letting the champagne bottle drop from your hand to pull his face back to yours until you’re mirrors of each other: two sets of hands framing two sets of cheeks. “Just look at me. It’s gonna—gonna move soon.”

You have no idea if the bottle shattered when it hit the floor, but neither of you dare look down.

Because Javier is a child again, regressing years in a second, terror black and leaking in his eyes. You know what he’s thinking about, what he’s remembering: sixth grade, brand new to your elementary hallways. How you once found him shut away in someone’s locker at recess—screaming his throat raw and bloody while everyone played outside, fists pummeling the inside of the metal door—still new enough at school to draw attention. You’d had to kick the lock to break him free, and he’d collapsed in a wheeze of panic at your feet, one hand coming out to grab your ankle in sheer desperation, his body curled tiny and terrified.

That might as well have been yesterday. That’s how clearly you remember what it felt like to fall to the hallway floor and drag him into your arms until he could breathe. No one ever messed with him again, and you still don’t know who did it. Javier’s never been a snitch unless it does someone good, and telling you wouldn’t have done him anything.

Was it that moment that started everything? This thing that you have that you can’t replicate.

You can’t really say.

Now you feel Javier’s heart slamming against his ribs as if it’s slamming against yours. You’ve wondered if anyone else ever feels this connected to someone—so entwined that their fear can poison your veins. That their heart can beat in your chest.

You’ve wondered if you’ll ever feel it with anyone else.

You’ve wondered if he feels it with Lorraine.

“Just look at me,” you say again, as Javier’s chest begins to rabbit. Thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as he stands against you, looking down with his lips dropped open in his daze. The railing on the elevator wall biting into the small of your back. “Just look at me, it’s okay.”

His next inhale comes in a gasp, shattered and glassy. Letting his forehead drop against yours, Javier blinks and blinks and blinks with no brown left in his eyes. The champagne is making this harder—the act of being steady—but you do your best to claw back his swelling alarm. This little box, however glossy and infinite in its reflections, must feel like a coffin to him, like a locker. Something smaller than a tomb.

“Baby, it’s gonna move, okay? Gonna move soon I promise, just breathe, Javi baby, just breathe—”

Every shudder in him rips a chasm through you.

Is this even helping, you wonder, or is this hurting.

Maybe you aren’t the comfort to him that he is to you.

Meanwhile the elevator stays exactly where it is, suspended somewhere between two floors. Who knows how long he’s gonna have to wait for someone to kick you both free. How hideous a thing it is to watch his once warm eyes go timorous and cold, his grip tightening on your face.

You’re drunk. You don’t know the right thing to do, so you do the first thing that comes to you—the thing you hope might make him hold his breath long enough to snare it—and bull your mouth against his. A crash of lips and teeth punched between two gasps in which you scramble to wind your arms around his shoulders, pressing the whole of your body against him in some desperate, besotted ploy for his salvation.

You’re breaking a promise. One time—that’s what he’d said in freshman year, but here you are kissing him again.

The way he takes to you would bowl you over if this were any other place, any other time. If you were sober. Instead it comes heaven-sent and unquestioned, a whole-body relief: the way Javier’s arms snap around your ribs and waist and crush you to him, pinning you to the wall.

It is a fever dream, a plague—the touch of death. How seven years gone it is still, amidst his panic, the best anyone has ever kissed you. All champagne and his sweet mouth, the shudder of his breath as he matches it to yours.

“It’s okay,” you mumble to him, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes that are—in the dim light of the elevator—still two tunnels into child-like dread.

You thumb his cheeks, his chin, his stupid mustache, and Javier shakes his head. “M’drunk,” he says, closing his eyes.

“I know, baby. Me too.”

“M’not gonna—” a short gasp, the kindling building again. “Don’t think m’gonna remember this.”

What else is there to do but nod? He’s right, after all—that’s the feeling you have. That when the elevator moves and you’re back on earth again, stumbled or taxied back to his or your apartment, that daylight will swallow this away. The new sun will rise and this will vanish. You won’t remember kissing. He won’t remember the panic, the elevator stopping. It’ll just be hangovers the way you’ve always done them—cheap coffee and greasy hashbrowns and cigarettes, Javier’s head on your lap or on your chest all day in bed, your hand in his unruly, bed-swept hair. All of this forgotten.

Or you will forget, at least.

Javier will remember—though not at first. Not for a while. It’ll take him a whole year, in fact, to recall this moment. Next New Year’s Eve, he’ll be in The Last Man Standing with Lorraine on his arm and she’ll look up at him just before the sweaty patrons cry HAPPY NEW YEAR— all Texas sunshine and everything he oughta want in the palm of his hand.

And in the last moment before she leans in, Javier will look out beyond her shoulder and catch your eye across the bar by what he’ll tell himself is an accident. You’ll be working, handing tequila sours to some dumbfuck who doesn’t have a shot in hell with you but is gonna slip his number to you anyway, and like you can feel him watching you’ll look up and stop Javier’s heart. It’ll come back in fragments, sure. But there’ll be no fighting it. You in that sequinned dress that made Javier feel like the whole world fucking flipped the second he saw it, scratching your fingernails through his hair and saying,

“It’s okay, I know, just kiss me, baby. Just breathe with me, and it’s gonna move soon. It’s okay.”

And kissing you in an instant, his whole body stammering until your tongue tastes his—then the elevator that just moments ago was pinching in triples in size. Everything, even the shake of his lungs falls quiet, and all that matters in the whole world is you kissing him like you’re saving his life.

You were. Saving him, that is. He’ll recall too a glance at his watch when you at last stepped out onto the barren street at twenty three past midnight. That’s how long you kissed him—twenty-three minutes—without break or pause or falter, without asking for a breath. Just because he needed it, and you knew. Because you saw.

Yes, he’ll remember just before Lorraine kisses him at the last tear of the calendar, and you’ll just smile behind your bar in that black apron, already busy serving up your next half-mixed cocktail, clueless to the year before.

And Javier will lie to you, just this once, when he takes it to his grave.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto - tag list & some mutuals!

@pedritosgfreal @thundermartini @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @reluctanthalfwayoptimism 

@myownwholewildworld @sunnytuliptime @indiegirlunited @anoverwhelmingdin @beezusvreeland

@perotovar @pedgito @harriedandharassed @casssiopeia @sweetpascal 

@noisynightmarepoetry @pedritosgfreal @theoraekenslover @luxurychristmaspudding @kyberblade

@itsokbbygrl @wannab-urs @milla-frenchy @yopossum @encasedinobsidian

[syb-rooks]

The children of the kingdom love Prince Gerard of Greenleigh. He might not be brave, or responsible, or taking care of any of the country's multiple urgent problems but he always, always looks out for the kids.

He is never too busy to play with them, to tell them jokes, and silly anecdotes, give them candy and gifts. And his advices are not always good, and his stories mostly revolve around the Princess, and perhaps he always scolds the children when they talk about exploring the forest. No, children shouldn't stay outside the walls of the castle, especially not alone, especially not in the woods.

When he sees a small child sitting alone, he always tries to comfort them, make them laugh, orders the cooks to bake tons of biscuits and bring mugs of the sweetest hot chocolate.

And when a child is curt, when they are rude, or angry and hurting, the Prince keeps a hand on his sword, even though he has never used it. He keeps the kid in his sights, and looks around for any fairies who seek to teach a cruel lesson. He is probably too much of a coward to go against a fairy, he knows that. And he would probably stab himself trying to use his sword. But he'll wait until the child calms, until they dry their tears, and mumble apologies munching on scones.

It's the only thing he can do.

Then the war comes.

The Prince doesn't fight with the soldiers, with the parents, with the princess. He hides with the children in the cellar of the castle. He still tells stories but his voice is strained, and when he talks about the Princess and her adventures, he stops midsentence and stares at the castle walls. He hides in the shadows and doesn't allow anyone near him. He snaps and orders at the staff and some children whisper that he has a tongue as long and agile as a whip. He is never rude to the children though. Even when they cry, or scream or complain, he has endless patience, and tries to comfort them, even if his attempts at advice never work anymore.

One morning the children wake up and the Prince is gone. He took with him only the clothes on his back and a dusty book about fighting stances.

He leaves behind for the children books on fairy tales, tons of blankets and precious pillows from the royal bedchambers, and toys.

Between the pages of one of the fairy tale tomes, are some crinkled, yellowed, handwritten pages from a diary. A girl describing a meeting with a talking frog.

Those pages were left discarded. It didn't seem like a particularly interesting fairy tale after all.

[testicularmanslaughtrr]

Anyways my Paladin Sir NoneofThat is on a one man mission to ensure no one in Faerun ever has sex again.

By any means necessary.

I truly should not be allowed to play video games

[ghostiguro]

heket has arrived!! she's so bbg omg, love her. :3

i've been done her & sham's ref sheets for like a week now i've just been lowkey depressed but i digress.

ok ramble time!!!

for her design, i felt like she'd wanna wear something more comfy & practical than anything. & while i was doing research i learned that frogs breathe through their skin, so i wanted to make sure she had enough skin exposed that she could do that. thus, cool pants were born. love them, they look sick af.

as it says in the ref sheet, she has the magical ability to summon locusts!! i wanted to give her some more abilities besides brute force & strength, & during her boss fight she throws up flies at you, so i thought it would be a fun idea, since locusts are often associated with famine & that is her domain.

her design will probably evolve with time; looking at it now, i think she looks a little too slim, & her skin looks much more desaturated than it did while i was drawing it so i will probably adjust that in the future. i also wanted to add tattoos, since in her boss / eldritch form she has eyes all over her little frog tummy, & i am a sucker for characters with tattoos... >.>

as i mentioned in one of the previous bishops posts (can't remember which it was), she is the most physically strong out of all of them & could easily beat them in a fist fight; where she struggles is with speed & a bit of agility. she can jump really high & has hella glute strength, but she isn't super quick on her toes compared to the others.

after shamura's injury, she kind of took charge of things. she's a little bit bossy, but mostly because of the position she was put in & the fact that she's very protective of her siblings, especially after the whole family drama thing, yk. after being indoctrinated, she has a hard time getting used to not being in charge; on one hand, it's a bit of a relief, but on the other, it's very foreign to her so it takes her awhile to fully adjust to things.

i know she's technically supposed to be a toad, but all toads are considered frogs & it's much more fun to call her a froggy so. don't correct me, i refuse to hear it. la la la la la, can't hear you.

i think that's about it for now? in terms of coming up with her design & other info, i've struggled the most with her. :,3 sigh.

[the-fluffy-folio]

Flashback the Chiminimera - one of my earliest creatures. I made it way too strong back then and reworked it a few times. Still op? Too fragile? What do you think?

One part cuteness, three parts death. The chiminimera lives close to running streams and shallow ponds where it hunts for prey like frogs, fish and small mammals. Being as vicious as its bigger cousin, this little critter was observed to even overpower significantly larger animals with frightening efficiency, seemingly just for its own amusement. Most predators know the wicked character of the chiminimera and are wise enough to leave it alone. Evil casters, however, are almost irresistibly attracted to the sheer ferocity of this intriguing creature. Fragile, but blessed with an unmatched agility and equipped with the sight of a mantis, the chiminimera seems to be nearly impossible to surprise, let alone to catch.

🔮 If you like my work, kindly consider to support me on Patreon to gain access to monster pages, tokens & artwork of over 220 quirky creatures as well as dozens of potion & item cards based on their lore.

[fatehbaz]

taking relentless severe psychic damage from watching several hours of videos of television commercial advertisements from the United States in December 1999.

a world-historical moment, an all-time high peak of self-assured smirking arrogance.

ascendant home computers and internet modems. a new millennium! a time after Cold War but before Nining Leven, with saxophone-playing heads of state and cheery Spielbierg-ian sentimentality attempting to plaster over 1970s/1980s disappointments and hangovers with renewed millennarian End-Of-History optimism.

come celebrate with us! look at these images of The Nation! from sparkling Times Square and the cast of "Friends" in bustling cosmopolitan New York City, to sunny Californian prosperity, to those cartoonish frogs in the quasi-mythical Deep South-ish rural periphery of Budweiser ads, and all the suburban Midwestern Kay's Jeweler's in between! planetary hegemony. "Head east from the Colosseum, across the ruts of chariots, and you'll find an imperial estate built by a second-century Caesar. It's a rough ride. And if the agile and durable Chevy Tracker can handle these ancient roads, driving back home will be a walk in the park. Chevy Tracker: It Gets Around!"

or perhaps "our" power extends beyond this terrestrial imperium, into space, conquering the stars. UFOs; space aliens; The X-Files; Independence Day; Space Jam; Men in Black; the Phoenix Lights; Coast to Coast AM on the radio; Space Command in Colorado Springs.

the anxious fragility belied by the desperate constant promotion of an almost religious dedication to recognizable icons.

talking chihuahuas, marketing jingles, annual football game events. self-referential circular cross-promotion maelstrom.

"An all-new holiday spectacular, a Christmas special destined to become a family classic! With music from REM's Michael Stipe, voiced by Ally McBeal's Peter MacNicol, and starring Drew Barrymore! It's Olive the Other Reindeer! At 8/7 Central Fox Friday!"

trying to insist that this "classic" cultural iconography binds us. it has always lived in your heart. fabricating in real-time a supposedly shared history, insisting on this "reality" even at the moment of its very creation. hammering away at the soul.

Daffy Duck saunters in and pronounces: "Eat your way into the new millennium with this 'gigundo' party sub from Subway!"

why aren't you smiling?

[cryptid-paint]

Sabertooth character hcs? 👀

ALRIGHT! IT'S SABERTOOTH HEADCANON TIME!

-Victor LOVES making biscuits/kneading, he oftenly collects tons of thick blankets because of this and gets genuinely sad/upset when he has to throw a blanket away because he knead it to shreads and it's no longer recognizable as a blanket anymore

-He enjoys swimming and water in general, I headcanon that his mutant gene is made up by different cat and big cats genetic codes combined into one mutant gene, the most prevalent being tiger, lynx and lion.

-he does that cat chirp/chattering sound when he's relaxing and sees a bird, it also happens if he's watching tv and there's a bird on screen, he can't control it, it just happens, and he's deeply annoyed by this

-he deffinitely purrs and hisses and roars and makes all sort of feline like noises. When it comes to purring, he'll definitely do it if you scratch under his chin, that's his purr activator lmao

-he sheds fur...LIKE A LOT....you could collect it all, turn it into yarn and knit a Victor scarf if you wanted to, type of shedding....everywhere he goes BOOM! a tufft of fur gets left behind...

-he loves to do A BIG STRETCH! in the morning or whenever he wakes up from a nap, ya know, like a cat!

-scratching posts are not enough or resistant enough to keep his claws sharp, neither are nail files, so he just scratches at trees to file them up

-you can tell when he's EXTREMELY angry because his tail will swat and move from side to side, if you see this, run! kitty cat man is angry!

-he loves summer, it's his favorite season because he loves sleeping under the sun and lying on the grass/sunbathing

-he's a MASSIVE CUDDLER, he loves warmth, he'll actively seek anything that provides him with warmth, be it a fire being lit, tons of blankets, a comfy sweater, or a person he trusts sitting next to him, so if someone he trusts is beside him, he'll inmediately turn and just melt into a cuddle pile on top of them, think big warm lazy cat energy.

-his tongue is rough like regular cats, it feels like wet sandpaper lol. Sometimes, he falls asleep with the tip of his tongue poking out like the tiniest little blep.

-cannot resist getting inside boxes, again, it's one of those cat things he can't control and it annoys him.

-he has paws under/inside his boots, same as wolverine, and I think they would probably look like a lynx paw?? just...big pawbs for a big cat man.

-also same as wolverine he has a tapetum lucidum so his eyes definitely glow in the dark

-has a high prey drive, sees as a squirrel? will chase after it. sees a frog? will jump into a pond to try and catch it. butterfly? will swat around his hands attempting to get it, meaning he'll oftenly get side tracked or is easily distracted (he always fails to catch his prey tho, because he's too big and he's more strong than he's agile thus making him slightly clumsy)

-he may be angry and violent and mean, specially to wolverine and the xmen, but if you're on his good graces and he considers you a close friend, he's actually a softy, meaning he'll playfullly nip at your ears or fingers, purr a lot, cuddle for warm....maybe he'll leave a rodent at your doorstep as a gift... and what not!, he's very selective, with who he lets into his life and who gets to see this more domestic side of his.

-although Victor can eat raw meats, he actually enjoys cooking and is skilled at it, so he enjoy making meat based dishes like stew! which he also enjoys sharing with those close to him. He's the total opposite to Wolverine in this, since Logan prefers his meat raw and is quite food agressive/territorial, oftenly going outside the mansion to hunt or scavange his meals and eat them there, since he's quite the messy eater (and he doesn't want to traumatize the kids by dragging in a deer carcass he found rotting but still eatable enough for a wolverine's digestive system...bones and all)

-oddly enough he's extremely good at math...he's a smart kitty cat!

also forgive me if there's any typos, english isn't my first language!

[terry-the-insane]

Arachnophobia: A bedrock edition mod

Hunstman spiders are active predators which spawn the same areas as wolf spiders (vanilla spiders) at a slightly less common rate. They behave mostly the same as wolf spiders, but are much faster and vary in size, larger huntsman spiders are more common in warmer climates.

Cellar spiders (also known as daddy longlegs) are common cave dwellers that solemn move unless disturbed. Upon spawning they will seek out or build a web and lie perfectly still until another mob touches it. Their venom isn't lethal, but beware that they can easily trap you in silk if you don't pay attention to where you're going.

The vinegaroon is a strange arachnid resembling a cross between a spider and a scorpion, they spawn in swamps and jungles in the dark. Vinegaroons are not venomous, but instead have the ability to spray acid projectiles from their abdomen. Real life vinegaroon acid is akin to vinegar (hence their name), but arachnophobia's vinegaroon sprays hydrochloric acid instead, and it can destroy some blocks.

Jumping spiders are commonly found in densely wooded biomes and are typically docile to players. Though they have very little health, they hit hard for their size and are quite agile, they also specialize in hunting other spiders and deal twice as much damage to arachnids. Jumping spiders can be tamed by giving them spider eyes, they can sit on your head and will immediately pounce on any threat. Like frogs, jumping spiders have three variants based on the climate they spawn in.

Whip spiders are cave dwelling arachnids which are not venomous, but they hit hard and they are absurdly fast. Whip spiders are highly aggressive and cannibalistic towards their own kind, but only sometime attack players unprovoked, every once in a while one will run up and punch you, launching you tens of blocks away. If a hostile mob is nearby, the whip spider will wave its "antennae", and will wave them more intensely if a particularly dangerous mob is near, just remember that the mob only has to be a potential threat to the whip spider, so it'll warn you if there's something less dangerous to players such as an iron golem.

The harvestman (also called the daddy longlegs, a title it shares with the cellar spider) is a harmless omnivore arachnid that spawns in roofed forests and redwoods. Harvestmen can be mounted if you feed them a poisonous potato, and controlled with a special item. If a predatory arachnid is nearby, the harvestman will panic and flee, becoming incredibly fast when mounted.

Neith is a powerful boss which can be summoned using a special eye rarely dropped by spiders, and alternates between melee, ranged and AOE attacks, and has the ability to control spiders. If you defeat Neith, she will reward you with a special armor which can be infused with the shed exoskeleton of an arachnid to gain their abilities, receiving both a buff and debuff (e.g. jumping spider armor allows you to jump super far, but it also makes you tiny).

The tarantula is a huge spider that sometimes spawns in caves above y coordinate 45 and cannot be controlled by neith, as she considers them to be heathens. Tarantulas are territorial and solemn go far from their home, and prefer to hunt at night. They will attack any other mob and will defend their territory fiercely from other tarantulas, once it's day they retreat to their caves, their aggro radius is halved and they will warn you before attacking.

One of serveral non-arachnids in the mod, moths are flying insects which commonly spawn at night in most overworld biomes and have a variety of biome specific variants, are frequently preyed upon by arachnids, especially web spiders such as the daddy longlegs. Moths are harmless although some variants are poisonous (they inflict debuffs if you hit them, but don't actually fight back), and will start to slowly die if they exist in the world for too long. Moths will often fly towards länterns, and will follow you if you hold one, they also have a rare chance to drop their wings which can be equipped.

The wolf spider is literally just the vanilla minecraft spider, but remodeled. It's behavior has not been altered in any way.

Like the wolf spider, the redback spider is the vanilla cave spider but redesigned.

Emperor scorpions can be found in tropical biomes at night. They are not very fast, but are large and powerful and can use their shield-like pincers to deflect attacks.

Deathstalkers are scorpions that spawn in arid biomes at night, especially in deserts. They are much smaller and weaker than emperors, but possess deadly venom.

A massive semi-aquatic arachnid, the thunder scorpion is a force to be reckoned with. Thunder scorpions do not spawn naturally, and instead are found in a similar way to the sniffer, since like the sniffer it is also an extinct prehistoric species.

Thunder scorpions can be raised and will be docile towards whoever raises them, but to anything and anyone else they can become aggressive, they start out very small and grow very slowly, but over a long time will continue to grow and become an eventually unstoppable killing machine. The modern day atmosphere is much different from that of the thunder scorpion's original time period, meaning that fully grown thunder scorpions slowly grow weaker until they inevitably die.

[serpentface]

The uwatshimet-hesh (Nekh for 'little men of the rivers') are a unique family of monkeys that have developed a semiaquatic lifestyle.

Found primarily in the tropics, all species are social animals that live in groups. A troupe will forage together in and around bodies of water, consuming anything edible they can get their hands on - fish, frogs, crayfish, snails, insects, aquatic vegetation, fruits, etc.  

A few are adapted to a more specialized predatory lifestyle, such as the river-baby(top left). They possess a longer snout and are strong, agile swimmers, and are active hunters of fish. Their name comes from their vocalizations, which strongly resemble the contact calls of elowey infants. 

Another significant animal is the River King (right). They live in groups with one breeding male, up to dozens of females, and their offspring. Males possess colorful exposed skin on the face and anogenital region, as well as gular sacks that inflate during territorial calls. They are relatively large animals and can be aggressive- groups will readily mob predators that enter their territory, and they are known to even drown interlopers (including elowey and humans).