#planet humans ocs

[gothiccprince-art]

Randomly remembered I have planet human ocs. Jupiter is my favorite, but then there's Earth and Moon too :3!

[demaparbat-hp]

Izumi (steambaby) sketches.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say ��I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

------------

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

[navrok]

I was inspired so I've also drew a Mercury. As a child I had a book about space and I've read it like 100 times. So...

Things you need to know about Mercury:

🌌 Closest to Sun

🌌 No moons

🌌 Pretty fast guy

🌌 Has a lot of craters

[tubes-the-ann]

Another dream person

She was from a video game with a tragic end of the world plot but it was also a rhythm game.

I drew her on the same canvas as the mystery flesh cube guy

maybe I'll just start drawing down interesting people I see in my dreams.

[lumanh]

most normal conversation between my Ocs

Actually, sitting on the sun is a very bad idea 🤓☝️

[immadatdisney2]

My ugly oc's

by @celestialbitch-art's request to see my ugly children. Here yall go.

So yeah... ask for lore if yall want cause I got WAYYYYYYYY too much of it >:3

-ImMadAtDisney <3

[vanadiumvalor]

A strip game with Sol that I ran on Twitter!

[inkmonster21]

Ink’s Masterlist

Enjoy my creations!

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Hugh Jackman

Series:

Short n’ Sweet

Logan Howlett / Wolverine

One shot:

Love me Tonight —> Love me Forever

Should Be Me

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Arthur Morgan - RDR

Series:

Wildflowers in the Wind

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Gideon Gemstone - TRG

Series:

Falling in Faith

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Captain John Price - Call Of Duty

Series:

I’m Just Next Door

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Simon “Ghost” Riley - Call of Duty

One Shots:

Not Another Damn Musical

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Ryan - Yellowstone

Series:

A Cowboy’s Love

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The Mandalorian ~ Din Djarin

Series:

A Bounty & A Solo

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Heath Ledger Joker - TDK

Series:

Let Me In - Complete

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Billy Butcher - The Boys

One shots:

Interruptions

Pop Star Princess

Who’s the Kid —> Voughtland

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Cooper Howard - Fallout

Series:

Sing for Me

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The Traveler- Carry On

The Willing One

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Julian - Trailer Park Boys

One Shots:

Nothing’s Changed

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Fezco - Euphoria

Series:

Best Buds

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Judd Birch - Big Mouth

Series:

Showtime

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Hwang In-Ho / The Frontman - Squid Game

Series:

I Don’t Play Anymore

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Noa-Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

Series:

Hearts Across the Divide - Complete

One Shots:

Just Fun and Games

A Future For Us

You Are Enough

I Can Do Anything Better Than Him

A Different Type of Love

Fighting for Life

The Lost is Found

Caesar - Planet of the Apes

Motherly Instincts

Jealous Ape

[raunak-shrestha]

Giant Alien Dog

Howdy! Here’s a giant alien horse dog for aprilterrestrials day 21:Tall.

TLDR: a pack of large alien dogs that life together like horses, yet hunt like wolves and lionesses. Very curious very BIG doggos. Will steal your lunch bag.

The long version:

[From the Creatirith research team]

Hello, this is Stella, submitting my report on one of the terrestrial organisms of this planet for my research trip. Attached in a number of images for your viewing convenience.

The Bintlet, as the indigenous dominant species calls them, are dog-like mega fauna that have been partially domesticated. They are omnivorous, comfortable with grazing for roots and high energy seeds, but also equally capable of hunting down prey. They hunt in packs like wolves and despite being as large as horses, move with an unsettling agility to take down Earth rhino sized prey. Fortunately for us humans though, these large "dogs" dont seem to have interest in hunting us, perhaps due to the native dominant species also being bipedal and having a history of respect for the animal?

The Bintlets if anything were highly skiddish of us at first but quickly warmed up after we had our lunch break. Slide one in the attached images shows head of security, Andy Bea, having her lunch stolen. To put the scale of the Bintlet in perspective, Ms Bea is 5 foot 10 and grew up on a farm doing heavy labor, and the "dog" casually "yoinked", as Intern Jake says, her bag and then tossed her by accident. when she refused to let go. Back when i was an intern and i touched baby alien whales, I almost suffered a similar accident, so this is a reminder to all interns to NOT touch the specimens without proper training or reason.

Although we didn't encounter them all, we were made aware that Bintlet fur coats come in a variety of patterns. Andy Bea personally met the first variant attached, and we photoshopped that individual into the other known variants (with review and notes from locals of course.) The all white one in particular is said to be a cryptid and possibly twice as large.

The final slide is a collection of sketches done by me over the course of this study when the team had down time.

Thank you for your time in looking over this report. I will work to update the committee on the flora and fauna of this planet as we study it. Assistant Stella signing off.

[pearcepersadolwolf-blog]

Bartered Hearts

Summary

In the distant future, Earth has stretched beyond the stars. Its latest conquest: the vibrant, oceanic planet XZ-91A, nicknamed Gaia. Teeming with alien life and glittering with unmined riches, Gaia was meant to be another victory for the Initiative TerraNova.

But Gaia is not unclaimed.

From its glowing jungles and sentient reefs rose the Naga—ancient, serpentine warriors with-scaled bodies and the instincts of apex predators. For every drone sent, for every soldier who vanished, it became clear: science and weapons were no match for myth.

Then the Naga made contact.

Azraq, a war chieftain wrapped in ocean-blue scales and bioluminescent markings, stepped forward with an ultimatum: Peace, in exchange for human women. All of the naga people are dying out as only males remain.

The Initiative, unwilling to risk war, agreed.

There is no secrecy. No diplomacy.

Now, every few weeks, women are taken. Ripped from the ships at any hour of the day—screaming, begging, dragged down into the glowing wilds of Gaia by figures that vanish like ghosts into the trees. And while you feel pity… you don't have the luxury of fear or sympathy.

You only care about one thing.

Your two-year-old daughter, Lila.

You're not a soldier. Not a scientist. You're a fixer—someone who made the impossible happen for the right price. Smuggling. Forgery. Organ runs. You kept your head down, stayed off radars, all to keep your daughter fed, hidden, safe. And it worked. Until now.

Your name is pulled. They’re taking you.

They say you’ll be treated well. That the Naga only take what they need. That this is diplomacy.

But as they try to separate you from Lila, to tear your child from your arms, something inside you breaks.

You are not going quietly.

And Azraq, when he lays eyes on you for the first time, sees something unexpected—not a frightened offering, but a mother who bears her teeth. A woman who would raze a world to keep her child.

And maybe… that’s exactly the kind of fire the Naga need.

Love isn’t the goal. Survival isn’t certain. But Gaia holds more than monsters. And in the depths of its glowing oceans, haunted forests and cold deserts, you might just find something even more dangerous than war.

A reason to stay.

Key Terms & Lore Notes for the Fic

To help ground you in the world of Venom and Vow, here are important definitions and worldbuilding elements to note:

🪺 Nest The personal dwelling or living space of a Naga. Each Naga male claims a Nest, which reflects his status, history, and bloodline. These are often embedded deep in Gaia’s bioluminescent forests, reefs, or caverns—organic, living spaces grown over time.

👶 Crèche A nursery located within the Nest of each Naga, where young offspring are raised in protected environments. These sacred spaces of these Nagas have for many years been empty and without use until now.

🐍 Clans & Bloodlines Naga society is divided by clan, determined by their lineage and physiology. Each clan traces its heritage to a distinct serpentine archetype, dictating traits like venom type, scale color, hunting style, and territorial behaviors.

The four major clans in this story are inspired by:

White-Lipped Island Pit Viper

King Cobra 

Malayan Coral Snake

Sunbeam Snake

The Naga Clans of Gaia

On the bioluminescent world of XZ-91A—called Gaia by human settlers—the ancient serpent-like people known as the Naga have emerged to make a desperate proposition: human women, in exchange for peace… and power.

Below are the four dominant Naga bloodlines, their territories, what they offer in trade, and their defining characteristics:

The Pit Vipers

Coloration: Pale blue, with opalescent shimmer Habitat: Dense bioluminescent jungles and glowing forest canopies Offerings: Rare jungle medicines, venom-derived compounds, healing serums, cloaking spores, and biochemical weapon enhancers. Their territory also holds high-value medicinal flora and rare mineral deposits.

The Cobras

Coloration: Blackish-brown with golden bands; golden cobra hood Habitat: Arid deserts, craggy cliffs, and ancient, sun-blasted ruins Offerings: Fire glass, obsidian metals, scorched-earth fuels, and rare solar-charged power stones. Despite their distance from most Naga territories, they bring long-range trade goods, warfare relics, and scorched alloys ideal for weapons.

The Sunbeams

Coloration: Black scales that shimmer rainbow iridescence in light Habitat: Deep caves, crystal caverns, and underground bioluminescent grottos Offerings: Light-reactive alloys, thermal energy crystals, psionic amplifiers, and rare fungi used for biotech and sensory augmentation. They also control many subterranean routes and ancient, forgotten relics.

The Coral

Coloration: Electric blue with black dorsal ridges and a vivid orange-red tail tip Habitat: Coastal tidepools, reef-bound islands, and submerged oceanic caves Offerings: Pearls, rare ocean metals, coral-based building materials, exotic marine fauna, venomous fish toxins, and deep-sea biotech. Their territories are chained island clusters accessible only by swimming—remote, but rich.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[daydreaming-allday-everyday]

Sorry, but it's funny how when writing a fanfic x reader where the character has a partner in the canon, the writers choose one of two options

she died, i'm sorry

I didn't like the character so I'm replacing her with my oc/reader (I mean an idealized version of me)

[thecrowsnestp5]

human(oid) lisa who cheered

[lumanh]

I come back with another celestial bodies- neutron star (pls don't ask why I change my artstyle)

more information about neutron stars:

That one rich uncle:

[theballaqueer]

LOVE SYSTEM!

So, I got a silly idea for a side project and these critters exist now. Basically, college silly stuff but all the characters are based on planets/stars/moons/etc..

Oh and there's gay ppl or something

(Additional sketch)

[thelandswemadeofpaper]

The Segyein had never cared much for the old stories of their pet humans—amusing at best, or useful as inspiration for new lyrics to fuel their entertainment.

The ability to sing—something humans were both treasured and envied for—was the one thing the aliens could never truly replicate.

They used it for everything—for mourning, for mating, for war, for worship. Even in suffering, they sang. It was as if melody was stitched into their biology, like a second language.

The Segyein had long tried to dissect it, to isolate what made a lower human voice stir something even in superior alien ears.

No matter how advanced their technology or how many times they tried to replicate, it always end up a failure.

So they claimed the songs instead, paraded the singers, and built empires of applause atop borrowed voices.

They prized their pets’ voices as if they were their own to exploit, profit from, and enjoy.

But as the 50th season of Alien Stage unfolds with an unexpected twist, they will at last discover why, in Earth’s seafaring past, even the bravest sailors feared a siren’s song.

They want a song of the Earth?

Wish to hear the melody spoken about in humanity's history for throusands of years before aliens even came?

Want to know the might of the lyrics no longer sung? Of the tales of men and women that shaped their own world? Of heroes and monsters? Of the ancient so-called 'magic' Earth's books spoke of?

They want a show?

Alaya might give them one

I made another with rain