#its the strange eons one

[the-mike-est-of-michaels]

watching a video about tumblr do’s and dont’s because I’m bored, “DON’T USE YOUR ACTUAL NAME IN YOUR URL!” .....yeah that’d be so cringe right

[bloodywankers]

tw. yandere, forced pregnancy, mentions of nudity, toxic relationships, implied murder, not proofread (pls tell me if you see any typos), 1.4k words

You knew your husband wasn’t normal. You weren’t a fool, the avoiding gazes of people around you, the nervous stutter of every waiter and service person that approached you, the hesitance of new aquintaces when they had to shake hands with you, all of it under his watchful gaze. It was hard to ignore.

If you had to put a finger on when it started, you’d blame that one time years ago, when you were both still young, much younger than you are now at least. When you complained about that one classmate that always got too handsy, about his annoying jokes and obnoxious personality, all under the guise of “a joke” as tasteless as it might have been. You knew he wasn’t fully okay in the head, even back then. It was by no mistake that you found yourself complaining to him of all people, sure he was a bit more reserved than now, a bit more hesitant at the thought of potentially committing a crime but all it took was a fluttering your eyes at him a few times and he offered himself up for you, he had never been the smartest of the buch after all.

When you heard news that the classmate had apparently dropped out and been seen with injuries beyond what any sane person would inflict, you knew who to blame. But you wouldn’t, maybe your underdeveloped prefrontal lobe couldn’t grasp the concept morality back then. But a guard dog that shows such loyalty couldn’t possibly deserve punishment. It was then when you cemented future by his side. He wasn’t all too bad, you thought, if you could avoid any and all contact with the opposite gender, even with women you could never make him feel unwanted. He was needy and big and scary but extremely gullible, at least when it came to you– as long as nothing sparked his jealousy, he was beyond reasoning if that were to happen.

There were times where you cursed at yourself for your past decisions, namely when you found small splatters of blood on his clothes that you assume were too small for him to notice, or when another person you had been unhappy with (but never voiced this in front of your husband) disappeared entiorely from your life. A dog that goes and bites all those that approach its master is no good at all.

Selfish and evil as you may have been, you were still human and the thought that your mere presence could ruin someones life took a toll on you so you started to retreat into your shell, to avoid going out as much as possible, much to your husbands pleasure who started coming home on time and didn’t drift off somewhere in the middle of the might anymore. Your relationship almost started showing a semblance of normalcy.

You had started feeling exhausted as of late, too tired despite your schedule full of nothing. It was strange, you started losing appetite and under a constant spell of lethargy, too tired to do anything beyond maybe brave the journey to the bathroom when necessary or to the kitchen if your husband wasn’t home to do it for you. Then started the cravings, so strange that you doubted even a pregnant woman would have them.

That’s what you thought, until night you managed to wake up just in time to see your husband rummahging through your drawer, the small sheet of what you could only make out to be your contraceptive pills in you hand and another one that looked eerily similar (that one wasn’t yours, you were sure of this since you were down to your last sheet).

You instinctively closed your eyes again before he could turn to you, waiting until morning when he was gone to work to check your drawing, only to find one sheet. It was then when things started to click, your period had been a few weeks late, you hadn’t been particularly alarmed since it happened sometimes but now you felt fear sink in as you rushed out in your car to the nearest pharmacy. The drive felt eons long when combined with the ever increasing feelings of dread that you were experiencing but you almost wished you could go back to that time as your clothes were tossed to one side and the bathroom door left slightly ajar, you were too rushed to have cared about those details as you stared at the two lines on the test.

‘No no no no no no no no no.’ You couldn’t think clear, you werent ready to be a mother, you didnt want children, there wasn’t a single motherly bone in your body.

You took back what you had said earlier, you were most definitely a fool. Why did you think he’d never do something like this when hes probably already done enough to secure his place in the 8th circle of hell just for you.

“Darling, I was looking for you-” Your husband said gleefully, pausing as he fully opened the bathroom door, finding you sat with a pregnancy test in hand, a few other ones already tossed around you, the unmistakeable positive already visible on them. And yet, as if he had no hand in this, he feiged ignorance, acted worried as he approached you.

“What’s happened here, what’re you doing, dear? Are you alright?” He kept asking these questions as he slowly neared you.

“Get away from me, don’t touch me!” You screamed, you were crying at this point and he was left at an arms length. That was when his entire demeanor changed, the almost idiotic smile of his nowhere to be seen as he let out a frustrated sigh.

“I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. If anything I’m surprised it took you this long, you’re quite the slow one aren’t you, love?” You probably would’ve launched the nearest object his way in any other situation but you couldn’t tell heads from tails in your current predicament.

“Why would you do this? Was what we had not enough for you?” You couldn’t help but ask in a moment of clarity.

“How coy, I wonder where this side of you was when you asked me to do all those terrible, terrible things.” His smile felt cruel, especially so when you realised that you were the dog if anything, he had always been the one to hold your leash, not the other way around.

“You dug your own grave, we couldn’ve had what most normal people have but you chose not to, you used me until your heart was fulfilled and in the process, you dug yourself deeper and deeper. The fact that you didn’t realise any sooner says more about you than me.” He finished, before hoisting you up, ignoring your cries as he removed what little you had on and placed you inside the bath. It had become a routine ever since you started feeling sick but today you couldn’t help but feel disgusted by his touch, alternating between sobs and protests as he cleaned, his grasp much harsher than usual, you weren’t sure if it was because he no longer had to uphold the persona he had you believing in up until today or because of your protests.

“Aren’t you curious, what you’ve been eating in place of your birth control lately?” He asked in the midst of washing your hair, the glint of excitement in his eyes only adding to the psychotic expression of his.

You couldn’t bear to ask, looking away in hoped that he would at least grant you this much. “Aww, I was hoping you’d want to, I’ll tell you ayway. It’s a sedative of sorts, I started with low dosages so you wouldn’t get alarmed. Don’t worry, it’s nothing strong enough to harm the baby.” The mention of the baby had your stomach twisting again. You felt exhausted from crying, letting him dress you, moving you around almost like a ragdoll until he plopped you on the bed, joining you soon after he showered and changed himself. Engulfing your smaller figure into a hug as he went on and on about the baby.

“I’ll get some books on parenting for you, we need to make sure our baby doesn’t turn out twisted and skewed like their mommy. Don’t you agree?”

[socialtomcat]

- what i must do is find some way to cover my entire body in plasma so i can envelop you completely

ww…what?

- I HAVE SWORN HERE AND NOW FOR THE PART TWO WEEKS TO PROTECT YOU AND THE ARTEFACT EMBEDDED WITHIN THINE BRAIN AT ALL COSTS. to such great lengths i shall go to transform myself into a gelatinous state wherein you shall wear me like a very skin suit.

*pained noise* there’s just something weird and freudian about that that i dont w-

- YES ARNIE GET INSIDE OF ME

I WILL NOT GET IN THAT WIZARD WOMB!

USIDORE WANTS TO WHAT

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒖𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 ✩࿐

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader

content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff, scaramouche is referred to as kunikuzushi, established relationship, makeup

summary: after noticing that your boyfriend’s eye makeup is more or less flawless, you ask him to test his skills on you.

a/n: this is what happens when you let me brainrot with @ilyuu for too long hehe... the scara brainworm has worked its way into my head. this is a cry for help.

“Hold still,” Kunikuzushi mumbles under his breath as he leans in towards you. With steady hands, he brings an eyeshadow brush up to your face, carefully placing the end of it against one of your eyelids. You have to stop yourself from flinching as the sensation of the bristles touching your face sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re moving an awful lot,” he reprimands you. A frown spreads across your boyfriend’s features. “Don’t blame me if you end up looking like an absolute idiot.”

Upon hearing his words, you have to force yourself to stifle a giggle. Kunikuzushi has a rather sharp tongue, but at times, even his irritated guise isn’t enough to conceal his love for you. Every single one of his emotions is displayed on his face for you to see, appearing as clear as a cerulean sky on sunny summer days. An entire rainbow array of sentiments is painted across his features.

Your proximity to him makes it easy for you to discern each feeling — after all, you’re so close to him that you can practically count all his eyelashes — so instead of focusing on the feeling of Kuni doing your makeup, you try to focus on him.

Porcelain skin tinted a very subtle shade of bubblegum pink at his cheeks; eyes that are filled with oceans of allure, adoration, and enchantment, containing a glint that speaks of the most mystifying secrets of the universe; and messy strands of hair reminiscent of the night sky framing his face make your pulse race erratically. The feeling of his breath tickling your skin only adds to the elation that threatens to make your heart burst.

It’s undeniable that Kunikuzushi is pretty — no, absolutely breathtaking — from any distance. After all, you had spent what felt like eons admiring him from afar before you could muster the courage to talk to him. However, up close, he is ethereal. Every single one of his features entices you, causing an entire sea of affections to flood your heart, overrunning it with feelings of unadulterated bliss.

As you stare at him in a daze, your gaze gravitates towards his lips. Although it’s difficult for you to look down due to the eyeliner pencil he just picked up tickling the edges of your eyes, you still manage to see them in the margins of your vision. His lips look so soft and plush, coloured a coral hue in stark contrast to his snowy complexion. They look so tempting. You feel a strong urge to kiss them — an urge that only intensifies as he subconsciously chews on his bottom lip as he concentrates hard on perfecting your makeup.

Your actions go entirely unnoticed by your boyfriend, or at least, you think they go unnoticed. He’s too focused on doing your eyeliner, quietly muttering a string of swears under his breath as his hand shakes. It seems like he’s nervous for once. You assume it’s because this is probably the first time he’s doing makeup for someone other than himself.

No matter how indifferent he acts on the outside, Kunikuzushi cares about you enough to become a mess on the inside when he’s doing something for you. It’s endearing in a strange sense.

With one final stroke, Kuni pulls back in order to admire his work. A small smirk adorns his features as he fixes his gaze upon you. Even though your boyfriend has moved, your eyes are still glued to his lips.

“Not bad,” he says. The galaxies of indigo swirling within his irises seem to glow brighter the longer he stares at you. It’s obvious he’s undeniably enamoured. He adores every aspect of your being. Kunikuzushi loves you down to every last detail, and right now, he’s especially enchanted by your eyes.

Slowly, Kuni’s face inches toward your own. His stare remains fixated on the corners of your eyes, which are tinted with dusk red eyeshadow reminiscent of his own makeup.

Before you know it, his lips softly press against your face, just barely grazing one of the areas he had just finished applying makeup to. Although no words are exchanged, you know what he’s trying to say.

You look absolutely divine.

When he finishes, he moves in once again. However, this time, he goes for your lips. Kuni slowly closes the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap that separates you from him until you can feel his warm breath fanning your skin. He stops right before you kiss to gently caresses your cheek.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Kuni whispers slightly breathlessly, although in the moment, that phrase sounds slightly hypocritical. His gaze is locked on your lips, almost as if he doesn’t dare to look away.

Little by little, the final inch of space between you diminishes, and you are met with the sensation of a pair of warm lips against your own.

The kiss is magical. It feels like something out of a fairytale. Butterflies run rampant in the pit of your stomach as you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, and for a second, you picture yourself in a dream. A dream where the rest of the world is forgotten, and all that exists is you and your lover.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging/commenting if you enjoyed this!

[pen-and-umbra]

So far, Episode 2 has been quite intriguing. The following is a stream of consciousness with some preliminary theories.

The wisp-things are extremely suspicious. At first glance, they appear to be linked to Masamune the Swordsmith (who kind of resembles a wraith or another type of undead?), but in fact they are Jenova-coded, with those distinctive purple/magenta hue visuals. 

Consequently, Sephiroth's "dream" sequence seems to be induced, similar to Angeal's. The telling purple/magenta vignette around the edges implies Jenova's influence.

Then there's Alissa, who resembles Lucrecia and makes the strangely accurate assumption that she reminds Sephiroth of his mother.

So, what do we have so far? We have an anomalous, off-limits zone that the locals avoid. No one knows how the village was destroyed. We have a legendary swordsmith, whose life-force (?) appears to be maintained by unknown means. We got some classic Jenova effects, purple visuals, and possibly induced lucid dreams or hallucinations. And we have a mysterious carnage survivor who resembles Sephiroth's mother.

My supposition is that there's a remnant of Jenova residing in Igara Forbidden Zone. I previously explored some unusual possibilities derived from the Temple of Ancients narration in FFVIIRebirth, where the Cetra mentioned their celestial adversary's "scattered malignancy". [Link] Unless the message is to be interpreted as prophetic, referencing ShinRA age experiments, it implies that Jenova's biologics were already “scattered” during Cetra's time.

What if the Igara Forbidden Zone ended up sitting atop a sealed deposit of Jenova's biological matter from the Cetran War?

The ground is depicted as having cracks, with some kind of purple substance visible beneath. Furthermore, Angeal observes that the soil is as fine as ash but glitters — and remarkably fresh Jenova's blood or goo has been shown to glitter in the ShinRA headquarters.

So perhaps at some point in time, the residents discover the sealed organic traces. Someone like a swordsmith would be closely dealing with matters of mining ore, so there's a chance of mining taking place in the vicinity. The mining process may have unearthed biological remains that had been buried for eons. Alternatively, there could have been ancient Cetran ruins nearby—perhaps an entombment site—that were intended to seal off alien matter. The opening sequence does feature what appears to be an abandoned Petra-inspired temple carved into the rock.

Although it has strong Wutaian ornamental motifs, it could be a repurposed Cetran site, so the idea stands. 

Masamune's lifespan, if he is a living being, appears to be much longer than that of a normal human, or so his speech about finding a wielder for his masterwork implies. Lucrecia's situation immediately comes to mind, as the compilation states that Jenova cells prevent her from dying, thereby extending her life. While this is an unlikely scenario, Masamune appears to be bound and unable to rest until his sword is passed on.

In this case, it is almost implied that the sword possesses its own power. Could this be a cursed masterpiece? Could Jenova's remnant essence from the ancient war have been mixed in during Masamune's forging process? After all, during the battle, the swordsmith does display those Jenova-esque visual effects.

Another peculiar and somewhat ominous link between Jenova and Sephiroth's weapon can be seen in his dream/hallucination sequence. Jenova-Lucrecia gives Sephiroth a "charm" to wrap around his sword, promising to "always be with him".

Granted, it could be a manifestation of his deepest desires (such as wanting to eat pumpkin soup again), but the purplish Jenova-esque vignette at the edges of his vision lends the scene a sinister feel. What if her power is actually imbued in the weapon Sephiroth carries? In that way, her shadow is always present beside him. 

The act of wielding Masamune is presented as some type of a tipping point in the opening sequence as well. During the intro Alissa mentions that she feels like the world will change once Sephiroth takes up the sword. The notion is further implicitly corroborated by Bachman, who stated the "course of history was altered forever".

Speaking of Alissa, according to FFVII Rebirth, Jenova can "peer into one's soul" and transform into those they hate, fear, or love. With this in mind, Alissa's resemblance to Lucrecia is extremely suspicious and raises numerous questions. Is she real, or a hallucination? It's telling that her face isn't revealed until the party comes into contact with suspicious purple wisps (which allegedly manifest as Masamune battle).

For all we know, if Jenova’s presence is there — if her power is unchained and lingers — then Alissa's might look completely different for Angeal, as her appearance is being specifically tailored to the beholder. It's also worth noting that the opening sequence features frequent flashes of Alissa surrounded by purple wisps and glitching.

To continue this line of thought, is it really coincidental that Bachman is carrying a camera, a device that captures unbiased visuals? Is it really an accident that Bachman is later portrayed as a mumbling, disorganized mess, despite the fact that he ostensibly never participated in the SOLDIER program? It's almost as if someone didn't want him to reveal his findings.

Written by @pen-and-umbra

[master-of-47-dudes]

Oh! For those of you who like Lancer, I've made major progress in the campaign I'm writing: Kindness of strangers!

LRBT-III, otherwise known as Blanche to the locals. This sun-baked dustbowl of a planet has the high honor of being one of the few habitable terrestrial bodies that anyone has discovered in the Long Rim, and probably the only one that's actually any use to anyone. Luckily- or not so luckily, if you ask some people- it was Union that found it first. Well, about 70 years ago when they stumbled across this star system they got it in their heads that the Long Rim's days were numbered. There’s untold millions living out there scattered along the emptiest shipping lane in the known galaxy who'd need a way out once no one needed to pass them by, and by Christ the Buddha Union was gonna be there for them waiting with open arms.

All of that is background, though. You? You’re a bunch of mercenaries who got their hands on a couple of GMSes, decided to make your manna selling violence for pay. Worlds like Blanche don't take to colonies very well, so even two generations in there's still plenty of frontier out there being settled and railroad tracks being laid. The people out there struggle day by day to survive, and people like you are there to protect them from those who got sick of the hard life. Not everyone out there has the guts to stand up for the little guy- that's why you're called Lancers.

A setting and a campaign all in one, Kindness Of Strangers and its (eventual) follow-up Dancing With the Devil are a series of Wild West-themed 2-mission adventures intended to take players from 0-12 as they find themselves embroiled in the midst of a corporate conspiracy to overthrow the Union-backed government of the isolated colony of Blanche and a ploy to seize control over a nearly completed Blinkstation. All the while, a strange religious movement worshipping an eons-dead alien civilization grows ever more influential in the background...

This campaign tackles themes of colonialism, nationalism, corruption, and conflict between indigenous peoples, settlers, and immigrants, all in a world where well-meaning intentions have gone sour and the ghosts of the past have come back to haunt it.

Kindness of Strangers, Missions 1-3

Field Guide to LRBT-PN

Exotic Gear Documentation

Variant Frame Documentation

Kindness of Strangers Worldbuilding Short Stories

Kindness of Strangers LCP, Maps, and Assets

This latest update includes the first(ish) draft of Mission 3: The Field of Blue Children, allowing play of the first half of Act 2 and extending the LL range from 0-3. Mission 3 is heavily intrigue and RP focused, featuring a wide suite of characters, relationships, and locations in the Tourist town of Baugh- a thriving immigrant community situated on a soda lake.

The PCs have been hired to investigate a bomb threat at the newly completed Baugh Pumpworks, and water filtration and chemical processing facility that stands to end the water shortage and threatens corporate control over the colony's water supply- but is everything really as it seems? In the process, the PCs will go toe to toe with teenage gearheads, Pinkerton-expies, and a group of Sparri Espadas who got roped into this whole mess, and uncover the mystery behind the threat!

Also, there's a subaltern that talks like a pirate and catholicism.

Anyway this mission also includes a custom NPC Template (kind of, I don't know how to design the LCP for that but i did include instructions on how it works), several new reserves, and several custom sitreps!

So, check it out- I'm always looking for feedback.

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : I]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: you have always denied your own power. But fate has its own path. Sometimes it can be changed, but often it cannot be avoided. You realized this truth when you met him for the first time, as you stepped into your seventeenth year.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

➡  Intro // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread

[Episodes 1] There is no escape—we pay for the violence of our ancestors

"We were once far greater than this," That's what your mother often told you many times when you were much younger.

For the most part, the tales from your mother's lips were no different from myths. The details were ancient and blurred by time, seeming more like delusions than truths. People never believed anything she said, dismissing her as just another mad woman with an unsound mind.

You were the only one who fully believed your mother, not just because she was your mother.

But because you saw it, just as your mother had seen, and just as all your ancestors before them had seen.

The Awakening —that's what your mother called it. It was said that one of your distant ancestors could look back into the past and see thousands of years into the future.

Mother believed this was a gift, a great inherited legacy passed down through blood, bone, and spirit, strung together for countless eons.

You thought the opposite. You saw it more as a curse.

Since the collapse in the past, your lineage has greatly weakened, and not everyone could bear the Awakening like your great ancestors. Knowing too much, even knowing what shouldn't be known, was an unnatural mechanism that directly affected both body and mind. The more one saw, the more twisted and destroyed they became.

Thus, everyone's fate was not much different. Most ended up committing suicide or being killed. A few went mad, and even fewer were scorned and despised by others as being crazy.

Fortunately, your mother was the latter.

You firmly believed this, until your mother intentionally gave you poison to drink when you were fifteen.

"Drink it," Your mother voice was harsh as she placed the glass on the wooden table in front of you. Inside was a pungent blue liquid that smelled like cinnamon mixed with some kind of medicine. She had a glass in her own hand as well, gripping it tightly as if it were precious. Her blue eyes, once as dark as ink, were now pale and vacant, not even bothering to look at you.

For a moment, just a few seconds but feeling like an eternity, as the strange smell wafted into your nose, the awakening enveloped your senses. You looked up into your mother's eyes, acutely aware of what she was about to do.

"Ten percent, Hara," your mother told you, her voice flat and emotionless. "Worth the risk."

That was the last sentence before she drank the poisoned glass in one gulp. Your mother's entire body collapsed in front of you, and never woke up again.

Outsiders judged on their own that your mother was insane, deranged to the point of trying to commit suicide along with her own daughter using some strange, untraceable poison.

And since then, you have always denied your own power.

You didn't want to be like your mother, and you didn't want to end up like others in the past.

But fate has its own path. Sometimes it can be changed, but often it cannot be avoided.

You realized this truth when you met him for the first time, as you stepped into your seventeenth year.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, filled with panic. Your entire body hangs suspended in mid-air, swaying back and forth as you struggle to find a way to escape. But no matter how hard you try, it is useless. The straw rope from the trap binding your ankles is too tight, and the branch of the large tree to which the rope is attached is too strong. You know well that you have no way of getting out of here unless someone comes to help.

"Say ‘please’."

You look towards the voice, seeing an upside-down image of a man leaning against that tree. He wears an old black cloak with patches of mending here and there. One hand casually twirls a short knife, its sharp tip gleaming in flashes of sunlight.

You respond by spitting at him.

Of course, your saliva doesn't reach his face, barely making it to his feet. It becomes yet another futile attempt on your part. He laughs at you mockingly, and that laughter irritates you even more. You struggle harder until you can feel the straw rope fibers cutting into the flesh of your ankles. Blood begins to trickle out bit by bit.

"You're about to cut off your own legs, you know that?"

You stop your actions when he approaches. Those black eyes still gleam with amusement as he stands watching your pitiful state for a moment, deliberately torturing you a little for your defiance, before finally deciding to help.

One of his hands swiftly cuts the rope, while his other arm wraps around your waist to prevent you from headbutting the ground. You had never known his strength until today, discovering that he could carry your body and flip you back to standing on the ground with just one arm, without his expression changing one bit. As if you were just a plank of wood, not a full-grown human.

"You shouldn't run away like this," he says, gesturing around the dense forest. Wherever one looks, there is nothing but trees and grass packed tightly everywhere. "The planet Khofar is full of dangers. Even most bounty hunters don't like coming here much."

You already knew that, and it was the main reason why you chose to hide on this wild, forested planet for the past two years.

Who would have thought you'd meet someone else crazy and brave enough to come here too?

"What's here that's more dangerous than you?" You retort without hesitation.

You have never trusted this strange man, and this isn't the first time you have tried to escape from him. But whenever you manage to find a way to run, he always tracks you down, like a game of cat and mouse.

And you are quite sure that he enjoys hunting you. The gleam in his eyes reveals as much, clear, and undisguised.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The man smiles mischievously without flinching. His hand grips your upper arm, refusing to let go. You feel yourself shrink when standing close to him. He is as tall and large as a stone pillar, his sharp features with a slight beard giving off an atmosphere of stern seriousness. Even though there is a playful smile on his face, it does nothing to diminish his intimidating presence.

"Alright, little girl. Instead of just running away like this, don't you think it's time we sit down and have a real talk?"

He bends down, bringing his eyes level with yours. You see the scrutinizing, fault-finding look in his eyes as they survey every feature of your face, stripping you bare with his piercing gaze, trying to find the slightest sign of anything you might be hiding.

"Tell me, how does a small woman like you, who has nothing, end up becoming a wanted criminal with a bounty on her head?"

Wanted Criminal—that's what Qimir has called you since your first encounter, and it is the same reason you have been stuck with him for so long.

Someone, or perhaps many people, have decided to label you a criminal, putting a price on your head as if you were dangerous, even though you haven't done anything terrible at all.

Your only crime was being born into this lineage. That alone is enough to be branded as a danger, unworthy of living in any galaxy.

True, those events have long passed, so much so that most people have forgotten that your ancestry once existed in this universe. But there are still some groups who remember well. These are people who fear history will repeat itself, wanting to permanently erase the cursed bloodline, and those who desire to exploit the hidden power that exists only in your family line.

And when your mother chose to die early, there was no one left but you—the only bloodline of past greatness still breathing and sane. Now you are the final target being hunted relentlessly by those people.

You don't have many choices. The only way to survive safely is to keep running aimlessly, like a legless bird that never stops flying until death, trying to hide as discreetly as possible.

You have lived like this all along, never being caught once, and never revealing yourself to anyone. But even Homer sometimes nods. Eventually, failure creeps up on you unexpectedly when this strange, peculiar man appears.

Qimir is a smuggler and mercenary who takes on any job that pays well, legal or illegal. Like other bounty hunters, he seeks fortune by hunting you, but he managed to do what many others couldn't—he was the first to find you and capture you without getting his throat slit first.

You are puzzled by this man. It is strange that he doesn't just kill you but instead keeps you like a stray animal he has taken in. He doesn't imprison you but won't let you leave either. His mind is full of endless curiosity, questioning everything about you. He keeps asking you repeatedly why an ordinary girl like you has such a high bounty on your head.

Of course, you have no intention of answering him, no matter how much he persists.

"It seems everyone wants to get their hands on you. Did you know even the Jedi are looking for you?" Qimir had told you, his tone a mix of warning and intimidation. "You're not secretly some kind of Sith or something, are you?"

'Sith' is a forbidden word throughout the Empire. The name of an evil, ruthless sect that believes in absolute power and tyranny. They are the complete opposite of the Jedi, known as the guardians of virtue and keepers of peace in the universe.

Hearing this, you can't help but laugh derisively. To you, both Jedi and Sith are bizarre, extreme factions locked in an endless struggle, as if the entire universe were just black and white.

"I don't have the Force, so I can't be a Sith. And I can't be a Jedi either," you reveal, cautiously avoiding saying more than necessary. "I'm just me, nothing more."

Qimir stares at you intently, his eyes narrowing slightly and thick eyebrows furrowed. It is clear he doesn't believe what you say. If he had the Force, you think he must be trying to read your mind right now.

But even a Jedi couldn't do anything. You have learned many things from your mother's teachings, one of which is how to shield your mind. Without your permission, no one can invade your thoughts.

Qimir sighs and shakes his head slowly, eventually giving up his attempt to catch you lying. "Then you're useless," he says, and you see this as a great opportunity.

"Exactly. My mother used to say keeping a Tooka was more useful than keeping me," you say, biting your lip as your left leg throbs with pain from a deep wound. You are too tired to fight him and can't even walk properly, which only makes your words seem more plausible. "And now, with my injured leg, I'll just be a burden to you..."

Qimir glances at you again, considering the serious, solemn expression you are feigning. A slight smile tugs at his lips, nearly breaking into a laugh. He isn't fooled by your act.

"For a burden worth Nova Crystals, I'm willing to carry it," he says.

He doesn't just speak—in the blink of an eye, he wraps an arm around your waist and easily lifts your body over his shoulder, causing you to scream in surprise. Hearing the satisfied laughter from him only makes you more furious and resentful towards this man.

I must kill him and escape your resolve is firm, even though you know it won't be easy.

[carionto]

Not "Party Hard" Enough...

As the Galactic cruise ship "Vinogradova" exits hyper space, the wealthy guests congregate at their viewing stations for the scheduled milling about in fancy dress and secretly getting wasted while some tour guide recites Galactipedia about whatever planet they're orbiting now.

"Here we have the illustrious Nestrall'anwa II, a most unique ocean world due to it's near perfect stillness. Eons ago a cataclysmic event destroyed it's only moon, creating a temporary ring around the planet, which we can see in this holographic recreation."

A massive array of projectors from the cruise ship emanate around the planet itself, creating a literal holographic debris ring. A most spectacular sight indeed.

"The tectonic activity is unusual as well, the plates are all moving in roughly the same directions, a sort of secondary spin cycle if you think about it. The planet spins around its axis, and the crust rotates around the mantle. Though this will become more chaotic in about six million years when one of the smaller plates will catch up and start creating underwater mountains. It is estimated that one day this planet will be incredibly mountainous and likely be able to support life."

Suddenly, the ship was being hailed by a signal coming from the water planet. After the automated system verified it is a valid source, Human no less, they opened the channel. Instantly, they were greeting by loud and obnoxious Human music, Rock'n'Roll it is called.

"Sup dudes! We saw that light show you guys put up earlier, could you do it again? That shit was sweeeeeet! Surf up!" The audio message was followed by a strange single hand gesture emoticon with the first, second and fifth appendages extended, and the third and fourth bent inwards.

Upon complying with the Human's request, the crew decided to go into manual mode and check what the fuck was going on here.

Apparently, the Humans had set up a series of floating platforms on the planet, using typical resort and amusement design patters. The Humans were mostly engaged with consuming various colorful liquids, undulating in strange patterns on a colorful floor with a mirror ball drone floating overhead, and many more were on colorful boards of some kind. Standing upright and trying to keep balance. On waves.

Wait.

Uhh...

There's three moons now.

Um, Humans?

"Sup brah! Yeah we brought the moons over. This place looked dope, we were hoping for the perfect surf world, but it was so boring when we got here a few months back. But then my bro remembered he worked on one of those space experimental projects or whatever, but after running out of funding, they had some spare moons just lying around Jupiter. So we figured, 'Hey, nobody is using these, this planet needs some juice, win-win.' Amirite!

And, um, did the Coalition approve of the moving of celestial bodies into neutral systems, per the Jimothy Law?

"Pshaw, nah bruh. Paperwork is for the computers, we're meant for the thrill, dude or dudete or dudit. Dudethem? Dudio! Dudorama... wait, is it Deuteronomy? Dudada!"

The Human continued to count variations of the term for the next several minutes, perhaps inebriated by some kind of mind altering substance, though it can be hard to tell with some Humans.

The captain of the ship decided that it's beyond his pay and they're just gonna continue the tour. Some of the Human tourists and even a couple of heavily intoxicated others did decide to cut their trip short and visit this newly tidally active world with it's Human introduced activities. Surfs up!

[alternativeminiatures]

New Trench Crusade unit, I don't know how they would make this into a miniatures, but mother of god, just the concept art is incredible!

++HUNTER OF THE LEFT HAND PATH++ The hunters of the Court of the Seven-headed Serpent are followers of the Left-hand Path. They stalk the primordial hinterlands of hell, where they hunt terrifying beasts and perform vile magicks and auguries using the innards of their still-living prey to discern portents and omens. They follow the hidden paths, the secret ley lines that connect the eons old shrines and ruins that still endure in the cancerous, tortured wilds of hell. The hunters haunt the remnants of kingdoms, the sites of ancient battles and places of legend long forgotten by the scribes and cartographers of Hell. In solitary rituals the hunter makes appalling oblations before these forgotten shrines, genuflecting and making obeisance to enigmatic beings of awesome power whose names even the Arch-Devils have forgotten. To arm themselves, the hunters perform strange rites upon their left arm, driving into it nails of infernal iron forged in the foundries of the city of Pandemonium. Their left arm grows into wicked shapes, often taking the form of a powerful hunting bow that fires arrows made from the hunterâ™s own diseased blood. Such darts can be used for many purposes: killing their prey outright, paralyzing them, or causing them to see visions of their own demise. They wear the pale skins of the stargazing oracle beasts that wander the burning plains of hell in great herds. The eyes of the oracles are alive even after their death and watch out for the new master that wears their skin as a cloak.

When called to war on Earth, the Devil Lords can really only hope the hunters answer to their summons, as the hunters do not always listen. They prefer the solitude of the wilds of hell, where they can ruminate upon its vile majesty, and consider the orders from the Princes of Hell as suggestions at best. When one can be persuaded to join the hunt of the Court on Earth, they can traverse the paths of No Man's Land just as easily as the wastes of Hell, for the ley lines of Hell are reflected upon the fallen Creation.

[loving-n0t-heyting]

Serina is an ongoing, chronological world-building exercise and speculative evolution project that explores the natural history of a fictional terraformed moon, two thirds the size of Earth and orbiting a large gas giant in the habitable zone of an alternate solar system, populated by only a handful of organisms including grasses, sunflowers, ants, crickets, guppies, and -  most notably of all - a single land vertebrate: the domestic canary. Our journey to this strange world will take us from the very beginning and then progress steadily along though the eons as the world's newly introduced life adapts to and evolves to suit its strange, new and ever-changing environment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

extremely cool extended worldbuilding project that @andmaybegayer introduced me to. very cool of what ive read so far, and presented in a nice modular format narrowing on individual species and local ecosystems one by one, so it can be consumed leisurely and nonlinearly. check it out!!

[omenics]

I hope requesting something is still okay! Also, I really wanted to let you know how beautiful your writing is. Your musings with Carmilla in mind remind me a lot of the actual novella. They're my favourite to read :)

Now onto my request! I wondered if you could write about Carmilla with a reader who is staying at her castle, but they both haven't confessed to each other yet. Some good old-fashioned gothic vampire pining lol

Hope you have a wonderful day and thank you in advance :)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄.

› ..perhaps mortals weren’t all that bad. fem reader. — I SM ACTUALKY SCREAMING THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I READ HOW YOURE REMINDED HOLY SHIT IM SCFEAMJGN PLSSSSSS

Your glances are noticeable. Even when your gaze turns another way, darting anywhere but her when she caught you, it was noticeable. Terribly so. Perhaps she would be revolted with such gazes, disgusted when someone like you so much as breathed around her. But no. You were different. You set off a beat in her heart that she was unfamiliar with, one that she did not know.

Her plans to discard your corpse dwindled with each passing day, and a strange fondness came in its place. She was a lonely woman. Even as a creature of the night, she got lonely. She craved your presence at night, alone in her bed she craved it. She could hear your soft heartbeats echo in the castle walls, reverberating a sound she forgot so long ago, unaccustomed to a beating heart for hers ceased.

Carmilla thought to puncture her fangs into your pretty neck, to make you eternally hers. But that would be cruel, and perhaps you would think her selfish. But love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. But alas, she was so terribly whipped.

Often times she longed to feel your fingers run over her cold skin, to feel your breath amidst her lips, to feel them touch her own.

So day by day she admired you in solace, the little things that kept her mind trailing back to you. She thought you a sorcerer, a witch that entranced her undead heart; but you were not. You were a mortal, a mere human who wedged your way into her mind. So for now, she would admire from afar, watching over you in secrecy, relishing in the warmth you brought her soul. She had all the time in the world, but you did not. Years passed like seconds to her, vampirism halting her lifespan, but around you time slowed down. Time slowed down to a point where she could breathe, admire the world around even if it was utter shit.

She wanted to be yours, you hers. She wanted to spend eons at your side, to hold your hands, to kiss your supple flesh. But now, she would be patient, she would wait. But her feelings did not-would not waver. Never, for she has loved no one and never shall, unless it would be with you.

[majestativa]

Every soul is born to life carrying, from former times, a pattern of what is right, a shape of good that it can feel, as the hand that plants can sense soft coolness of fertile earth beneath its probing touch. And like the seed that, placed in proper soil and rain, sprouts and hardens to its one unique perfection of a tree – like this, each soul, in right conditions, would grow into its own outlandish purity of moral being, and we would see, across one million persons, one million realized ideals, each differing from all the rest, each expressive of its own strange potency and circumstance, yet all alike in beauty, as if a million rāgas were played on a million instruments, by a million masters of the art. And yet in every eon of historical time, society has starved each impulse toward the good, and fostered in its place desire for group power or for private gain.

— PATRICK COLM HOGAN ⚜️ The Death of the Goddess: A Poem in 12 Cantos, (2014)

[void-ink-studios]

Wrath of the Wishmaster

You asked, you shall receive.

Thanks for helping me clear my writer's block. I might write more scenes that happened prior to this, but enjoy what's here for now! Might post to AO3 later, who knows?

Enjoy babes!

Word count: 2,500

There were many things Scarab did not understand about the Wishmaster, Prismo.  Many… Many things.

Why did an all powerful being decide to spend its eternity making pickles and writing fan fiction of the universes he observed?  Why, of all things to add to the featureless Time Cube, was there a hot tub?

And why, above all, did he tolerate all of Scarab's... strangeness?

Because no one liked bugs.

That was the lesson Scarab had learned in his eons of existence.

No one liked bugs.  At least, not the kind of bug he was.

Of course, people like butterflies.  They liked to watch the pretty and dainty little things as they flutter along.  But only from a distance.  People still recoiled if they got a good look at their face.  Or anything that reminded them that they’re bugs, and not just living little splashes of color.

And Scarab was no butterfly.

He was a beetle.  Was?  Is?  He wasn’t sure anymore.  So much of himself had changed since he first emerged from his burrow.

And yet, there was Prismo, calling his little chirps and trills "cute." Encouraging him to find places in the Time Room to burrow and hide and crawl.

There was Prismo, who didn't recoil at the site of his real face. Who saw his strange mouth and eyes and decided to kiss it all over, rather than hide it behind his mask again.

So no, he did not understand many of how Prismo operated. But Scarab was not about to complain. He felt more alive in his own shell than he has in eons. He kept his mask off more often than on these days. His hidden arms had seen more exercise than ever before. He was starting to remember the strange language of chirps and trills and buzzes from his old home.

Of course, there were still bad days. Days where he had to sit still and stare at something stationary just to remember what direction was up. Days where he crawled away into one of his hidden nooks to tremble out of sight.

He had been reluctant to let Prismo in on those days, at first. He held up walls and scooted away and flinched enough to get the Wishmaster to back off for quite a while.

But, as he came back into contact with himself, and as Prismo called him beautiful and quirky, rather than disgusting and unsettling, the walls came down.

He wasn't ready to tell him what happened to his antenna and wings. But, Prismo was at least there to turn the screen wall to something calming. Or to rub his aching back and shoulders on days where he could do little else but shake.

It was... nice. He hesitated to call it wonderful, but it really was. Much better than a bug deserved, but he was not about to remind Prismo of that.

No, he had Orbo to do that for him.

He knew he had grown far too comfortable with Prismo when he heard the orb roll into the Time Room, loudly calling for his buddy the Wishmaster. Who was not currently there, but instead tending to his pickles for the moment. He trusted Scarab to watch the main room for any wishers, which he had been doing diligently from his perch on the ceiling.

Scarab froze, stuck to the ceiling like he was pinned there.

Maybe if I don't move, he won't notice I'm here.

It was a nice thought. But when had the universe been nice to him before?

"Uhm... Scarab? Mate? Whatcha doing up there? I thought we cleared up a while back that that creeped people out."

Scarab stayed silent as he crawled back down the wall. He ignored the way Orbo visibly shivered at his method of locomotion, standing at attention once his feet touched the floor.

He unconsciously made a nervous, light buzzing sound, his mouth parts clicking together as the orb stared at him like a disection project.

"So, what's all this then? You think just because Prismo's not here, you can do whatever you want? I thought we talked about this forever ago, Scrabs. You might be just a bug, but you got raised to the pantheon. You gotta act like it."

Orbo rolled to look around the Time Room. Scarab reached gingerly for the remote, trying to alert Prismo to their visitor.

"Seriously, I still feel bad enough for Prismo to get stuck looking at you when you were at your best. If he's stuck with you, it's the least you could do to not creep the guy out. That's not how you show appreciation, Scrabs."

Scarab tried to tune it out. He wasn't creepy, not to Prismo, Prismo called him beautiful, insect traits and all. Orbo swung around to look at him, now noticing his face.

"Where's your mask, man? No one wants to see the horror show your kind calls a mouth. It's bad enough when we have to watch you eat, you can at least put the rest of it away."

Scarab felt small. Tiny. Just like he did when he first met Orbo, who took one look at him, and decided he wasn't meant for the glittery Judgement Hall. He barely even noticed when he shuffled the plates back over his face.

"Much better. So, where's Prismo then? Not like I came all this way to talk to you, right?"

Orbo laughed. Scarab didn't. He just kept his eyes trained to the floor, still quietly chirping to steady his nerves. His world started to feel tilted. What he wouldn't do for his cane right now.

"Cut it with the noise, mate. It's like you've forgotten you're a god or something. You want to go back to the dirt? Is that it? I can talk to Boss for you, if that's what you want."

"...No. That won't be necessary."

"That's what I thought. Now, where in Glob's name- Oh, Prismo! Buddy, there you are!"

Scarab didn't look up to acknowledge the Wishmaster's presence. He felt so tiny. Just like a gross little bug pinned to the wall.

"...What are you doing here, Orbo?"

That made Scarab look up. Prismo's tone. All the warmth had been sucked out of his voice. There was an edge to it. One that the beetle had never heard before, not even during the whole Fionna and Cake disaster.

"Aw, mate, can't I just come check on my good buddy? It's been ages since your last party, man. Us at the office are just itching to groove again. We'd love to see you!"

Prismo's expression was unreadable. Scarab wasn't used to not being able to read the Wishmaster, he was usually an open book. The blue eye shifted between Orbo and Scarab subtly.

"Just haven't been in the partying mood, Orbo. I've been having some friends over for board games, I guess, but I'm not planning on a party any time soon."

The star core seemed to catch Prismo's shifting glance, turning his attention back to Scarab. The beetle stood ramrod straight. Partially to not draw attention to himself and partially to prevent his body from shaking on uncertain legs.

"Oh. Prismo, buddy, why didn't you say anything sooner?" Orbo rolled back over to Scarab, smirking.

"Say what sooner?"

"That this dude was killing the vibe in here! I mean, I totally get it, I wouldn't want a party either if that was lurking in my place somewhere."

Prismo's expression hardened.

"Scarab's not 'killing the vibe' Orbo. He's been nice to have around, he plays board games with me, Cos, and Death."

Orbo rolled his eyes.

"Prismo, you're cool. You don't have to keep it quiet for his sake. Just say the word and I'll find something else to do with him. It's not the first time he failed to learn a lesson."

"I'm not keeping anything quiet. I like having him around. He's actually pretty cool when he's got the space outside of work, and you're being, like, really uncool, Orbo."

Scarab was stunned. He'd been the only one to ever really talk back to Orbo. He'd never expect someone to do it on his behalf.

"What? Me, uncool? Pris, c'mon, mate. You're allowed to say he's creepy, we all know it. He's a bug. You know, those little creepy crawlies? I thought I trained most of the creepy stuff out of him by now. I know you're everybody's buddy, but you really need to make sure the lesson stays in his head if you don't want him weirding you out. Like, I came in here and he was on the ceiling! Looked like a ghost or something. And without his mask! I thought I made it clear his face is a horror show. Thank Glob I got him to put it back on before you had to see it, bud. It's a real doozy, I'll tell ya."

The beetle wasn't looking at Orbo anymore. No, he was watching the growing horror on Prismo's face. Horror not directed at him for once.

"Dude, Scarab's not that bad. A bit uptight when he's stressed, but still a pretty cool dude. Why should he have to hide so much? This is the Time Room, you're supposed to relax in here."

"Oh, Prismo, you sweet dream child. Scarab's not cool. He's not like us, you know?"

"Like us?"

"Buddy, you're the dream of one of the greatest living wizards in the multiverse! I'm the core of a collapsed magic star! That's where gods like us are supposed to come from! Scarab though? He's just a bug. A creepy crawly cockroach that somehow made it up from the dirt he's meant for."

"Didn't he manage to take down a galactic level threat that you couldn't catch?"

"He got lucky." Orbo looked annoyed. That usually ended well for no one. "Knew I should've finished his punishment before he came here..."

"I thought this was his punishment."

"Oh, no, I'm talking about his punishment for trying to start a revolt. Went over my head to the Boss! All over that nonsense with that unauthorized universe of yours. I was gonna take his legs. Maybe should've pulled out his other arms as well. I still can, if you wanted me to, mate."

The silence in the Time Room was deafening. Scarab has seen a lot of expressions on the Wishmaster's face. Contentment, sadness, boredom, amusement, joy, frustration, all of it.

But he had never seen rage. Not until now, anyway.

"What?"

Orbo seemed to completely miss the change in atmosphere, as he carried on just as before. "Oh yeah, it seems to be the only way he actually learns. Thought the antenna would be enough, but nooo, Mr. Buggy Bigshot still thought himself better. I really thought the thing with the wings would've gotten through to him, but I guess not."

The lights in the Time Room went out. Not even the stars from the void outside shed much light into the cube. Scarab never thought he'd miss the sickeningly bright yellow of the Time Cube, but he's permanently paint his shell its color if it would turn the lights back on.

"You. Did. WHAT?"

There was a guttural hiss coming from where Prismo once was. Blue what replaced by a bright purplish pink, staring down at Orbo and Scarab. A friendly smile was replaced with jagged teeth. Fingers replaced with claws. And a growl rumbled through the cube.

Scarab didn't think. Just acted. He opened himself a passage into the lower levels of the Time Room, scurrying in as fast as his legs could carry him. He could faintly hear Orbo yelling after him, but he ignored it completely. The adrenaline let him ignore the pain, ignore the feeling of constantly tipping over. All his instincts told him was run and hide.

He crammed himself into one of his many makeshift burrows, backing as far into the hole as possible.

Prismo was angry, he knew that much. Anger meant pain. Anger meant he'd lose another piece of himself. What would it be this time, he wondered.

It didn't matter he knew Prismo would never hurt him. It didn't matter he knew he probably couldn't be hurt like that while in this form. All he knew was to curl up and hide.

And so he did.

He shook, in fear and pain, and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. But he didn't dare come out of his cubby.

So he waited.

He didn't know how long it was until he felt the familiar tingle of light against his back. He flinched, a frightened trill falling unwillingly from his throat.

"...Scarab? Sweetheart, are you there?"

...At least he sounded like Prismo again...

"...Yes... Yes, I'm here."

"Good, good. I... I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I don't like what I am when I'm like that but... What Orbo was saying... Your wings..."

Scarab felt his elytra twitch under Prismo's touch. The ragged scraps of wings shivered as well, as the beetle sighed out a soft little chirp.

"...It is the way of things, Prismo... Orbo is not the only one with thoughts like that. It's what I've been taught for eons. No one likes bugs, after all."

There was a long silence after that. Prismo was looking at him with a sad calmness. He reached his other arm into the hole, petting a hand over the parts of his face he could reach under the mask. The bug shivered pitifully into the touch, trying and failing to resist the urge to lean into it.

"...You deserve better, Scrabby."

That's what did it. That's what broke the dam.

Scarab wept into Prismo's hand, shaking hard enough to make his carapace rattle.

"Shh... It's okay, honey... Can you come out here?"

It was slow. Almost painfully so. But he managed to peek his head out of his hiding spot. The Wishmaster gave him a kind smile, if not a sad one.

"Can you let me see you, beautiful?"

Scarab hesitated. Orbo's words echoed in his head, loudly, cruelly.

"...I'm not pleasant to look at, Prismo... Much less beautiful..."

"Nope. Not true, Scrabby. C'mon. Let me see that pretty face of yours."

"Prismo..."

"Please, Scarab?"

The beetle sighed. His face plates shivered again, tucking behind his head. His eyes stared, wide and wet at the Wishmaster. A soft kiss was planted on his forehead.

"There we go. Much better."

Scarab refused to start bawling again. Instead, he climbed the rest of the way out of his burrow to curl against Prismo's chest.

"You don't have to worry about Orbo anymore, by the way. He won't be coming back. Not for a few eons, at least."

Scarab didn't choose to question it. Not right now at least. Instead, he closed his eyes as Prismo's hand pet gently over his aching back, the beetle unconsciously opening up the elytra. The dream's hands were always careful when working around his sorry wings. They made the ache go away.

Scarab began chirping. Softly, at first. But it slowly grew, morphing into a simple, but filling cricket song. He heard Prismo softly join in with a light humming.

He might've been just a bug.

But it turns out at least one person likes bugs after all.

[tribbetherium]

The Late Rodentocene: 20 million years post-establishment

Remember the Titans: Cavybaras of the Late Rodentocene

Much of the Early and Middle Rodentocene had been defined by its lack of large terrestrial megafaunal animals. In these early founding eons, the introduced hamsters still try to gain their footing in a strange new world, first spreading out into adjacent niches filled by other rodents back on Earth, before, over time, slowly progressing generation after generation onto other roles occupied by gradually bigger and more diverse creatures.

Yet in the Late Therocene, this era is quickly coming to an end. As the descendants of the gouties and the squeasels, prey and predator, clash in an arms race to gain an advantage over the other, their sizes have been growing at an unprecedented rate: as bigger prey animals can better defend themselves from predators and are able to resist attacks. The cavybaras, already the largest terrestrial animals of the Middle Rodentocene, have grown even larger than ever before, with some reaching truly impressive proportions.

The largest of them is the titan cavybara (Noderotitan gigantus), which grows to roughly the size of a mid-sized cow and can weigh half a ton or more. These enormous creatures are among the first animals on HP-02017 that can truly be considered megafauna, grazing in small herds on the open plains and feeding on tough, woody vegetation that, without their heavy grazing, would quickly overwhelm the prairies and savannahs and crowd out other, more easily-edible vegetation that other herbivores such as hamtelopes and jerryboas depend on for food. At such a size, the titan cavybara now affects its environment to a degree unlike any seen before: acting as a vital ecosystem engineer helping keep the grasslands well-managed and promoting maximum biodiversityby allowing other plants, and animals dependent on them, to thrive.

While not all cavybara species are as large, they nonetheless are quite huge for their time compared to the hamsters they descended from, and thus have come to affect the environment in significant ways. Wetland swampsogs (Potamocricetochoerus breviceps) are smaller, but still quite large, cavybaras that have a preference to marshy areas, spending much of their time in the water to cool off, conceal themselves from biting insects, and foraging at the bottoms of swamps, rivers and lakes for the abundant, fast-growing aquatic plants. They, too, are important ecosystem engineers, as their huge appetites for water plants prevent them from overgrowing in bodies of water, shading out all the sunlight from photosynthesizers lower down at the lake bottoms and clogging the flow of rivers and impeding its usual course that can lead to small, localized droughts when river flows bringing much-needed water to drier regions get deprived of their usual water supply.

Not all cavybaras are purely grazers, however. In the competitive environment of the Rodentocene, where many clades collide and compete for niches in the presence of many vacant ecological spaces, it pays off sometimes to try something new, that others have not yet taken advantage of. Long-toothed cavyboars (Protosuimys magnodontus) are one such illustration of this, having expanded beyond a diet of tough, woody vegetation and also supplementing its diet with seeds, fruit, roots, insects and even carrion and small animals on occasion. These proper omnivores have the upper hand in dealing with small-scale food shortages, as they can thrive off other sources of sustencance until their preferred forage becomes available again, while other more-specialized species are forced to migrate in search of food or simply die out at the slightest changes of the environment. To aid in digging up roots and invertebrates, the cavyboars' lower teeth have become longer and stronger, protruding out of the animal's mouth even when closed: these also make remarkably effective weapons when utilized by males against same-species rivals over food, territory, and mating rights to nearby receptive females.

While many cavybaras have grown to enormous sizes, a few have taken an opposite route. Some, like the banded cavilet (Nanocricetochoerus minimus) have, in fact, gotten smaller than their Middle Rodentocene ancestors, as they became small-scale herbivores feeding close to the ground in a manner similar to rabbits or guinea pigs. These tiny cavybaras specialize on the tough woody stems and shoots of small ground plants and grasses, and would eventually usurp and outcompete the broadheads: a clade of Early Rodentocene herbivores whose lineage would disappear entirely by the beginning of the Middle Rodentocene.

While cavilets continue to persist in the Temperocene in small, unassuming grazer-rodent niches, they have changed little from the Late Rodentocene, having settled onto a stable and secure ecological space that has profited them since then. But their ever-growing kin continue their trend of increasing size well into the Therocene and Glaciocene. From the titan cavybaras eventually come the mison, the Therocene's dominant megafaunal herbivores, from which in turn descended the hammoths of the Glaciocene and the piggalo of the Temperocene. The semi-aquatic swampsogs, meanwhile, would become the amphibious mudmallows, with some crossing across shallow seas to colonize islands and subcontinents in the Temperocene, while the cavyboars, with their diverse and omnivorous diets, would give rise to the highly successful bumbaas, some of which, the beelzeboars, would become proper carnivores during much of the later part of the Therocene.

-----------

[papiliotao]

・❥・OF DEVASTATION AND IDYLLIC AFFIRMATIONS

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Character: Scaramouche

♡ — Synopsis: After all he has been through, Kunikuzushi finds it difficult to trust. However, a single push causes his indifferent façade to shatter.

♡ — Content: Scaramouche is referred to as Kunikuzushi, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending, nightmares, clingy Scara, vague spoilers for Scara’s backstory, established relationship (but it's in its early stages)

♡ — Word Count: 883

Kunikuzushi has a strange tendency of edging his way around intimacy. He has his back to you each night as you fall asleep beside each other in your shared bed, and whenever you ask to hold him, he rejects your advances without hesitation.

Sometimes his words hurt. They drive venom-coated daggers into your fragile heart with the utmost precision, never failing to make you wince as the pain of your lover’s refusal sows seeds of doubt within your mind. However, after pursuing Kunikuzushi for what feels like eons, you know better than to take his harsh remarks at face value.

Deep down, he’s still afraid — afraid of love. Despite the fact that your gentle touches and reassuring words have acted as remedies to the illness that afflicts his heart, he still can’t help but fear losing you. Loving you just to lose you is the last thing he would ever want, so he keeps his distance, not ready to fully commit just yet.

There are still moments where he’s softer — showing the side of him that you have come to adore through touches as fleeting as autumn leaves and bashful compliments spoken in a voice as soft as a calm zephyr, but it always feels like there’s an invisible barrier that Kunikuzushi is too afraid to shatter. For now, you are nothing more than casual lovers, and while you are awaiting the day Kunikuzushi will finally break the wall and give you his entire heart, Kunikuzushi is trying his best to ensure that you won’t get too attached to him.

To him, the pain of abandonment is an old friend. It lurks in every shadow, every moment of silence, and every intrusive thought, perpetually bringing up the question of what he would do if you ever left him. He doesn’t want the hurt of your betrayal to sting, but above all, the feeling of being forsaken by someone you love is something he would never wish upon you.

So whenever he has to reject your requests to pull him close while you fall asleep, he reminds himself that he’s doing it for you. After all, if he stays away, then you’ll love him less, and if you love him less, then it won’t hurt as much when you inevitably part.

Despite his intentions, he is blind to the suffering that he is making you endure in the process. You, the innocent, courageous, and patient soul that somehow learned to love someone as abhorrent as him. If his heart was honest, he would admit that he wants nothing more than to keep you close to him, but Kunikuzushi cares not for verity in the face of loss.

However, everything changes one morning when you awaken to the feeling of breath tickling your skin. You feel arms wrapped around your waist and a comforting warmth pressed up against you. When you open your eyes, you feel as though the air is knocked out of your lungs by the endearing sight before you.

Your face is mere centimetres away from Kunikuzushi’s. His eyes are closed, and he looks as though he is suspended in a state of pure bliss. Sunlight tints his pale skin a golden shade, making him appear the liveliest you have ever seen him. It’s all breathtaking beyond measure, but what makes your heart seize up the most is the small smile that adorns his visage. It’s subtle — barely noticeable, but it’s there. He’s angelic.

Kunikuzushi begins to stir far too soon for your liking. You try your best to pull away, fearing rejection in spite of the fact that he is the one holding you, but to your surprise, Kunikuzushi’s grip tightens as he whispers a subdued, nearly-inaudible, “stay.”

He’ll never admit it, but he had a nightmare the night prior. Darkness spun of his deepest insecurities and anxieties tormented him for hours on end, and in the midst of it, all he could think about was how he needed you by his side. When he woke up, his first course of action was to frantically search for you. He only managed to calm his breathing and brush the strands of hair sticking to his forehead away after confirming that you were still beside him, sleeping soundingly without a care in the world.

After reliving his most distressing fears, he lets himself admit that the thought of you helps him overcome the worst of them. In you, he is able to find solace, even in the midst of perturbed moments, so he finally allows himself to succumb to his desires. 

Kunikuzushi breathes in your comforting scent as he buries his head in the crook of your neck and pulls you even closer to him. He closes his eyes, sighing contently as you make no move to get up or question him. The puppet now knows that in your presence, he can be his true self without fear of abandonment; you understand him — all his hopes, all his fears, and all his deepest wishes, so for the first time in centuries, he allows himself to trust.

As he drifts into an enchanting slumber filled with the most joyous of emotions, the tension in Kunikuzushi’s body alleviates ever so slightly. Everything feels like an exuberant dream when he is with you.

I mostly speedran this, so I'm not 100% sure if it's decent. Thank you for reading, and please remember to take care and have a nice day!

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

A strange eldritch monster of the abyss just visited my dreams and called me a "CREATURE".

I have never been happier and more flattered. 🤭

I need to go immortalize this thing in art, lemme write up a description:

It was a massive giant, crawling out some dark pit. It might've been a bit goopy? The shadows dripping off of it. Its face was a long round snout with equally long ears sitting at the top of its head. It crawled on its belly to me. It seemed wounded and exhausted by its eons of existence. And yet, it was very pleased to see me. Like it was waiting for me.

When it opened its mouth, it looked as though all the teeth had fallen out of its gums, and yet its lips/face was shaped like razor sharp fangs.

Its eyes were, of course, two empty pools of darkness. Actually empty sockets/holes, I believe.

When it spoke to me there was no voice and yet at the same time there was??

As it was talking, it moved its right hand forward, growing extra fingers to have just enough so it could spell the word "CREATURE" with them. There was no sound of bones breaking, just smooth movement as the fingers took on the shapes of the letters.

During this dream I was also roaming some other word?? Of darkness?? For some mission??

Particularly, I was trapped in a labyrinth with super tall hedges as walls. At the end of the dream, I did end up becoming one of the shadowy creatures (Hell yeah!!!).

And I was infiltrating some building with superheroes in it? I think it was some kind of hero school thing.

And then my cat woke me up from my nap... (Noooo.....)

AND NOW THIS LITTLE SHIT IS COMPLAINING ABOUT THE FOOD I GAVE HIM CAUSE HE WANTS OTHER FOOD???

I was experiencing gender euphoria in there and you had to wake me up just to whine??😭😭