#unidentified fish object | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idontknowreallywhy · 6 months ago

Text

Resurface 25 - Regroup

Story so far (let’s be honest, all this resolution stuff will seem pretty random if you haven’t got the backstory but it does involve a puppy pile and who needs justification for that)

A bit more of the aftermath. It doesn’t go anywhere fast but as I keep telling myself These Things Take Time To Work Through.

I mean nobody actually expected any plot furtherance to have occurred in the past fortnight did they?! You should know me better than that by now 😏

(Side note - I am going to put it out there and say I think I’m going to have this wrapped up in 30 chapters, plus an epilogue that is already written… so the plane is on the approach, as it were ;) )

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Scott woke in a nest.

He was fairly sure he hadn’t gone to sleep in one.

However, given he was not alone and that the sounds of slumber surrounding him were so familiar and beloved, he decided to go with it for now. There was time for for a subtle situation assessment at least.

It was warm and his situation was objectively comfy, despite being on the floor. A department store’s worth of pillows had been deployed around him at some stage, there were many blankets and numerous other, as yet unidentified, fluffy objects. The comfort-level was actually almost aggressively high.

Subjectively though… everything ached like it would with an intense bout of flu. All his bones felt wrong, as if his skeleton had been taken out, thrown down the stairs, and shoved back in at random. There was a constant background throb inside his skull. His throat, his eyes, his nostrils… all felt swollen like they’d been attacked by angry bees. Had he been sick? His heart dropped a little, if he was sick he shouldn’t be sharing his nest - he’d be infectious!

He thought about moving and sneaking away but every muscle point blank refused. His family were in the nest and he really needed them right now. He always did, but the need to be physically close felt suddenly emotionally overwhelming, like trapping a cold finger under something heavy or walking on a block of Lego… for a few seconds his brain couldn’t process any other information.

When the bunch of mush inside his head did reboot, it noted the soles of his feet were stinging sharply. That was both new and distinctly unusual for flu…

OH! The glass. Of course.

That.

All that. Oh.

Oh Virgil.

He tightened his arms around his biggest little brother who rumbled some sleepy nonsense in response. The two of them appeared to be covered in Scott’s old bathrobe. And what Scott had initially interpreted as Virgil’s arm slung over the both of them from behind him in fact ended in one of John’s elegant hands… a John who happened to be wearing one of Virgil’s flannel shirts. No, wait… Scott squinted at the cuff in the half light… Two. John was sporting double plaid.

You know what, fair enough.

The squid was squidding on Virgil’s other side, limbs locked on and only a shock of dark blonde hair visible as his face was buried between Virgil’s shoulder blades. A long time ago Scott would have worried at his ability to breathe in that position but although their little fish had not yet developed the ability to respire underwater (much to his obvious frustration), he had long proven himself perfectly able to obtain sufficient oxygen through apparently impermeable brotherly surfaces.

Scott reached out with all available senses to locate the final piece of the brother puzzle and it didn’t take long. Allie’s pointy chin dug into his thigh and… yeah he’d been drooling in his sleep the same way he had ever since he was a toddler. The soggy patch on his jeans was going to be hard to ignore now he’d noticed it but, aww, Allie.

A lithe dark shape reclined in the bedside chair, constantly on guard even in slumber. A smaller stockier one was tucked into the bed, snoring ever so gently.

As Scott’s eyes adjusted to the gloom he noticed a mysterious green glow in the armchair in the far corner - lifting his head ever so slightly he could identify MAX’s standby light glinting off a pair of glasses.

Truly, everyone was here.

As if knowing she’d been left off his mental checklist a hologram popped up from the bedside comm at 10% brightness, still a surprise that made him blink his eyes rapidly to compensate. The familiar ring of lights flickering then shifting into a single question mark.

He wasn’t sure when his feelings had shifted from being creeped out to being comforted by her constant watch over them all but, his heart warmed by the enquiry, he raised a hand, ever so gradually, to form a thumbs up.

The lights shifted and spun in a rainbow of colours before mimicking the thumbs up symbol, shifting quickly to a heart shape and then a series of Zs before blinking out.

He couldn’t decide whether he was more amused that EOS was now communicating via teenage emoji-speak or that she was now also nagging him to sleep. Virgil had started snoring slightly and that always had a soporific effect and so a large part of Scott’s brain was inclined to take her advice. He screwed up his face trying to suppress a huge yawn. After all… given he knew someone was keeping an eye on things…

perhaps it would be ok to let himself… drift… just a little…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Virgil woke in a symphony of family.

It was not, he would acknowledge, what most people would understand as music. Sure, he could hear them, could pick out their individual ways of breathing and all their other little sleep noises as easily as if they spoke their names in a roll call. But it wasn’t entirely an auditory thing. Nor was it entirely a visual, olfactory or tactile thing either… not entirely, although they all played a part.

He felt them all, their presence surrounded him in full technicolour. And he could hear the colours and see the inaudible sounds of the music they made merely by existing.

He knew each brother’s melody, and those of Kayo, Grandma and Hiram too… they wove around and through him and harmonised with his own motif, supporting it, lifting it, enhancing it into something more beautiful. He made sense. He knew he was home precisely where he belonged. He was safe. Everyone accounted for.

And yet…

There was another here too.

Hollow. Barely tangible. No life force of his own, he… it… was fuelled by desperation and denial… memory mutated. Virgil knew he was there and yet his presence was only a shadow.

He opened one eye with a sense of trepidation and, suspicion confirmed, closed it again, curling his body back into the embrace of the real and the solid.

Gordon clung to his left, Scott surrounded his right, the scent of both flooded over him, he could feel their breath. But he could feel Him too.

Virgil knew what was happening - he’d been here before, after all. And now he knew, he knew it would pass soon and in a significant way that made it less horrifying, albeit still deeply deeply uncomfortable. But… perhaps… he could approach this with a degree of scientific detachment? Virgil slowly opened his eyes, allowed the light of dawn to enter his pupils and wondered how much of what he would see was actually entering his brain that way.

Standing, head bowed, by the end of the bed was Scott.

His Scotty. His best, most faithful friend, familiar as his own soul.

Broken.

Bearded, battered, bruised… he raised his face to meet Virgil’s gaze from within darkened, swollen eye sockets, blue only just managing to penetrate the mess of yellow, purple and red.

Cheekbones like knives, skeletal hands peeking out from sleeves of that cursed blue, the wrong blue. Not Scott’s bright astral blue. Too dark, too formal. It smothered him.

He looked so tired and so faded he was almost grey.

Virgil’s heart stuttered - how could he have let this happen? He was supposed to look after him! He was supposed to prevent…

The big brother Scott that was his conscience frowned, the haggard wraith Scott that was his sickness shook his head, the sleepy but solid Scott who held him close tightened his grip as if to stop him launching himself down that mental rabbit hole. Virgil allowed himself a tiny amused smile as he briefly closed his eyes to savour the hug - no version of Scott, real or illusory, would ever stand by and let him take the blame.

He looked up again, intending to whisper an apology anyway…

But he was gone.

And he was here.

He was right here.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #resurface fic #hurt/comfort #Tw: psychosis #Tw: mental health

29 notes · View notes

mychlapci · 5 months ago

Note

Sick Eel Anon

Before socializing Sick Eel Starscream had to undergo multiple surgeries before he was deemed fit.

- Several of his teeth were not aligned right and had to be pulled/some infection. On top of some teeth growing wrongly piercing his cheeks.

- His voice box needed both external and internal repair (readings showed external was caused by constant claw marks/strangulation, inside was damaged by a combination of toxic water and consuming non edible things)

- His digestive tank was full of inedible material which had to be removed.

- His spine needed to be drained as there were large quantities of fluid buildup due to blunt force trauma.

- His wings needed repair due to nerve damage and tears.

- His claws needed to be clipped as they were splintering off and curling wrong. His nails were stacked on top of each and weren't falling off.

- His helm had several foreign objects and tissue build up that needed to be pulled, one even damaging his optics.

- His scales had to be treated as he was experiencing Sand Down Syndrome (scales are basically rubbed off due to dragging across dangerous terrain)

Getting the DNA results back it revealed Sick Eel Starscream was not a pure eel but several different species ranging from

Eels

Sea Dragon

Snake

Piranha

Lion fish

Pufferfish

Anglerfish

Shark

Land mech (specifically seeker)

Along with several unidentified matches.

He was a mash up, made to look as unsettling as possible with all the medical downfalls

Starscream's spark beat was highly irregular, his hormones were immensely off balance, and his Energon readings were dangerously high.

He had to go through physical therapy (regaining his ability to use his wings)

Food therapy (due to his mixed DNA and lack of nutrients on a special diet, on top of teaching him how to hunt)

And sleep therapy (his paranoia and anxiety left him in a constant state of sleep deprivation)

Researchers carefully document Starscream's recovery.

When Starscream's colors do come back his obnoxiously bright with mismatched patterns.

He looks like a sparkling's art project.

Starscream is mixed about his new transformation.

He doesn't feel or look scary anymore which is something he took pride in.

But he does think it's nice to not look like a piece of Megatron's scale that fell off and came to life.

His still horribly insecure about his appearance but still shocked by it.

On a rare day they can catch him examining his claws, tracing his now vibrant cockpit, carefully touching his wings.

It takes a long time for him to get used to his appearance. He used to scare himself whenever he saw his reflection.

Oh lord poor Starscream... i suppose this means he was bred in captivity solely for the purpose of being a freak show. The amount of problems he has from all the mixed coding and neglect is immeasurable...

#merformers #tf hc's #texty

20 notes · View notes

stackofsnakes · 1 month ago

Text

Screw it, here's a Guards! Guards! AU(2300 words)

Thunder rolled.

Then reality rolled.

In a twist that surprised nobody and annoyed many, the Unseen University rolled as well. To the dismay of everyone, it rolled highest. Sparks of thaumaturgic energy crackled where the existing structures of the building folded into other dimensions and something else was now passing through. In the library, an unwieldy shape shot up from its slumber and turned vaguely humanoid. The books were in a frenzy; the barrier between dimensions, especially flimsy in and around large collections of books, had eroded and through the open space came pure, unfiltered information in shape of a pale mist. Information aching for a medium. Even in his own head, the librarian could feel new memories inscribed in places where old ones trying to resist eviction, as concepts like language, space, even math temporarily lost their meaning. The books on the shelf ached as information was violently taken and forced upon them. Through the space that was no space the librarian wandered, struggling to hold onto his sense of self. A memory, belonging to a stranger, barely yet formed, floated past. Then, as sudden as it began, it ended. The foreign information burned away like morning mist on a hot summer morning and reality started to heal. The books on the shelves complained in an inaudible grumble as their bound pages started to reject the alterations like a body a foreign intruder. The librarian sat in the dark, closely examining the memory he caught, or rather the memory of a memory. Somebody, somewhere close, had deliberately punched a hole into reality, a move unwise in the best of conditions, an the worn out space around the university had temporarily given in. This in itself was not too worrisome; the wizards of the university, especially students, did all sorts of courageous and stupid things with the fabric of reality if the day was long and distractions scarce. No, what worried the hominid was that something came through.

Thunder rolled... and cursed at Luck.

The gutters of the city gurgled softly as the detritus of the night was carried along, in some cases protesting feebly. When it came to the recumbent figure of Captain Vimes, the water filtered through his worn out soles like coffee through a filter. He opened his eyes. It took him by pleasant surprise that he was still upright. In a just world(the world was seldom just), he would have woken up with mud running through his breast plate. It wasn't the first time he woke up upright, as a young guard he had spend many a night sleeping on his feet in the freezing cold, but he couldn't remember ever having walked doing it. But then, he couldn't remember much momentarily anyway. He took it another unearned favor of the gods and let his feet carry him down the street. Presently, his soles told him by the shape and pattern on the cobble, he walked along Peach Pie Street.

He raised his bell, a bronze instrument as dented and worn as its owner. “Three o'clock!”, he bellowed while ringing the bronze object with an unwise enthusiasm. “And all is...”, he paused. He couldn't remember what all was, though he was sure it had something to do with people reprimanding him.

He pondered all for a while, stepping through through thick mist. The mist from the the river Ankh was not like ordinary mist, it didn't rise mysteriously from the watery surface, like in more forgiving regions of the disc, instead it dragged itself from the toxic muck, along with some of the more fortunate victims of the night, and fled down the street, lest somebody or something may try to drag it back in. Its consistency was traditionally like fish soup; the opaque kind with unidentifiable bits swimming in it.

Vimes turned another corner; his feet told him now he was walking down short street, the longest in Ankh-Morpork, testament to... something. Vimes wasn't quite sure to what. The mist was now so thick, it started to obscure the rows of houses along the street, putting to question whether there ever had been any. The bits in the soup turned into something more specific, although less corporal. Vimes hardly took notice, which was not considered to be a clever move. His feet, compelled by an outside imperative, independent from the brain, carried him through a white void, now so violently empty, it seemed to tear on the edges of the guardsman's form.

What was all? He pondered, with an increasingly bad feeling in his stomach. He know it was something large, so large it was everywhere, something he should remember, but he couldn't for the life of him. Life... Wasn't there something about life, or... the opposite of it? The end? Sam Vimes stomach moved rapidly in the direction of his knees. Wasn't he on a funeral earlier? Whose was it anyway? Gaskin, said a quiet voice in his mind, but the concept of Herbert Gaskin, long time friend and fellow guard, was already losing its meaning.

Failing to remember reality, Vimes couldn't help but miss how his grasp on it slipped from him, in the most physical sense imaginable. He also didn't notice leaving short street onto a pattern of cobble his feet didn't recognize. Impartial to such vital trivialities, they carried him forward, step by step through empty white that now seemed to pull on his person. Not forward, just pulling.

Step. The concept of cobble lost its meaning. What was all?

Step. The ground retired as it couldn't work without the concept of down. What is all?

Step. Physical space dissolved. What would all be?

“I remember!”, Vimes shouted to no one. “Three o'clock! All is-” Step. One too many.

Everywhere, all across the multiverse, taking one step too many can extinguish your existence. It also often has a side effect of leaving a hole somewhere, usually far further down(at least in places where concepts like “down” exist).

Both applied to Sam Vimes, whose only proof of ever having been a living person was a hole in the exact shape of Captain Samuel “Sam” Vimes, uniform and all. Usually, at least in Ankh-Morpork, such holes appeared on the surface on the the river; it generally took a good day or two until the outline was obscured. This specific hole, however, was unlike most, in that it lacked a physical medium. Reality crackled indignantly along the fray, demanding compensation, or at least some store credit; the pale yonder was happy to provide.

A shape emerged from nowhere in particular, filling the gap its previous occupant left. It didn't quite fit; it was taller than Vimes, and more burly, even accounting for the breast plate, and then there were the side burns... It wandered off toward being.

HM, commented a cloaked bystander in surprise. He retreated. It wasn't safe to linger.

The mist lifted, or rather it transitioned back into normal mist, as normal as it could be in Ankh-Morpork. The outline of buildings was now visible against the a sky that didn't fully belong to the night any longer. The shape moved with drunk determination through the dangerously unfamiliar streets. In the last corner of his mind, untouched the absurd concoction of substances he allegedly consumed in the past hours, reality had no record of those so he was legally in the clear, a voice reminded him that it was late and he'd do well finding a bed. Another voice, less rational, happily marinating in the cocktail it helped create, suggested he'd go with one of the lovely women, lining the dark side streets. Neither voice was in charge at the moment. Shivers ran through the strangers body in electric waves, from the soles of his feet, to the little hairs on his arms in frantic disarray. His spinal chord had hijacked his body, forcing him to continue his psychedelic march through the unfamiliar city. It was recalibrating.

The Bunch of Grapes in Easy street opened its windows, giving the used up smoky air a chance to escape. The bars of Ankh-Morpork never truly closed, at some point they simply shooed out the casual drinkers to make space for the much more lucrative alcoholics. Hosts had a nigh mystical ability to tell them apart; alcoholics made their palms itch, just like large amounts of gold did to dwarfs. The Host of The Bunch of Grapes rubbed his hands in excitement. Down the street, toward the bar, wandered a stranger bearing a face only worn by those determined to replace their body mass with alcohol, and there was plenty to replace. The fact that he was barely able to go in a straight line didn't bother the barman; the look of grim determination on the alcoholics face reassured him. He was tall and burly, his exotic jacket a presumptuous green, his yellow trousers almost offensively wide, and his bearded face bore an expression, that would have earned him a slap from any respectable woman and several of the less respectable ones. The barman was the type to whom these categories mattered a lot; he couldn't be seen with a fine lady in his humble establishment. He had a reputation to uphold.

“What can I bring you?”, he asked the exotic stranger.

“Ngahhh!”, he answered, straining the language center of his brain.

“Certainly, my good man, immediately.” The barman filled a dirty glass(he was especially proud of those, they were almost as dirty as those in the Drum) with a liquid that was certainly meant to be golden, but was a sad yellow instead.

“Nnnnnhhhh!”, the stranger said thankfully, emptying the glass in one swift motion. “Grgh, mwahhh!”, he demanded.

It occurred to the barman that this individual might actually drink himself to death right there at the counter. In a tone of utmost responsibility he asked “Could you pay in advance?”

“Mwh? Mm...”, the man took something out of the pocket and slammed it on the table. The barman picked it up. It was a black piece of paper, with the picture of a women on it. The number “five” was inscribed on the side. I was a few years still until the concept of paper money would be invented, but with the sense all business owner possess he was able to gauge that this must be used as money, wherever this man was from.

“Don't you have any more... local currency?”

The man just shrugged his massive shoulders. The barman sighed. It was to good to be true. He should throw this figure out, he concluded rationally, but something kept him from doing just that. His eyes relayed the image of the stranger to his brain, but in response came words like regular, trustworthy, friend. He sighed again.

“I'll keep you on tab for now.”

The stranger made a bubbling noise.

The sun was rising outside the great city of Ankh-Morpork; it hadn't mustered up the courage to enter yet. The lone guard at the gate yawned unimpressed, as he watched a tall figure approach from the road. He scanned the newcomer, he had a habit of doing so, some even call it his job. He lacked the confident bravado of adventurers, but also the timid excitement of young country hicks trying to make it in the big city. This one showed only a stern innocence that could get a person killed and a body that could get a lot of people killed. He also showed a letter.

“I think I've got to see Lupin Squiggle Sec'y pp,” he said eventually.

“What's the pp for?”, said the guard suspiciously.

“Could it be Pretty Promptly?”, said Carrot who had wondered about this himself.

Both men analyzed the letter carefully for clues for a while. A second name had been written in the text where now was an illegible smudge of ink, as if a drop had hit the paper. Weird, thought Carrot. During his journey he took special care not to damage this letter, his key into the guard. It hadn't even rained.

“What was it you're here for?” asked the guard helpfully.

“I'm here to join the watch!”, the young man said, straightening up as he said it.

“Really?”, the guard said squinting his eyes. “What have you done?”

“I'm sorry?”, Carrot responded with slight worry. Nobody had told him he needed to do anything except report... whoever it was he needed to report to.

“You must've done something.”, the guard said.

“My father wrote a letter.”, Carrot said helpfully. “I've been volunteered.”

“Bloody hellfire!” the guard wasn't sure what that meant but it coudln't spell a good omen, he decided. “In any case, you want to report to the Watch Captain. Captain... uh...” The guard couldn't remember; the inquiry he made to his brain returned empty. Cor damn it, he thought, you know somebody your whole life...

“And where is he based?”, Carrot asked politely.

Ah! the guard thought relieved. That was an easy oneö

“At this time of day I'd try The Bunch of Grapes in Easy Street. You can't miss him; he's the guy with... äh... just ask for the Captain.”, the guard resigned.

As Carrot marched off, the guard grumbled to himself. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn't lethomania he was struggling with, but entroponetic dissonance, a condition that was more physical in nature than neurological. The pressure build against the vulnerable foundation of his mind, forcing a narrative against a brain adamant that its memories were true. Eventually it gave in. It's quite unreasonable to disagree with reality. The guard felt something snap behind his forehead; reality realigned.

“Hey kid!”, he shouted after Carrot, next to whom hardened adventurers looked like unwashed children. “It's Captain Du Bois!”

#sam vimes #discworld #gnu terry pratchett #fanfic #au #alternate universe #crossover #harrier du bois #disco elysium

8 notes · View notes

dailyunsolvedmysteries · 10 months ago

Text

The Shag Harbor UFO

On the night of 4 October 1967, at about 11:20 pm Atlantic Daylight Time, it was reported that something had crashed into the waters of Shag Harbour. At least eleven people saw a low-flying lit object head towards the harbour. Multiple witnesses reported hearing a whistling sound "like a bomb," then a "whoosh," and finally a loud bang. The object was never officially identified, and was therefore referred to as an unidentified flying object (UFO) in Government of Canada documents. The Canadian military became involved in a subsequent rescue/recovery effort. The initial report was made by local resident Laurie Wickens and four of his friends. Driving through Shag Harbour, on Highway 3, they spotted a large object descending into the waters off the harbour. Attaining a better vantage point, Wickens and his friends saw an object floating 250 to 300 m (820 to 980 ft) offshore in the waters of Shag Harbour. Wickens contacted the RCMP detachment in Barrington Passage and reported he had seen a large airplane or small airliner crash into the waters off Shag Harbour. Assuming an aircraft had crashed, within about 15 minutes, two RCMP officers arrived at the scene. Concerned for survivors, the RCMP detachment contacted the Rescue Coordination Centre (RCC) in Halifax to advise them of the situation and ask if any aircraft were missing. Before any attempt at rescue could be made, the flying object, with lights still showing, started to sink and disappeared from view. A rescue mission was quickly assembled. Within half an hour of the crash, local fishing boats went out to the crash site in the waters of the Gulf of Maine off Shag Harbour to look for survivors. No survivors, bodies or debris were taken, either by the fishermen or by a Canadian Coast Guard search and rescue cutter, which arrived about an hour later from nearby Clark's Harbour. By the next morning, RCC Halifax had determined that no aircraft were missing. While still tasked with the search, the captain of the Canadian Coast Guard cutter received a radio message from RCC Halifax that all commercial, private and military aircraft were accounted for along the eastern seaboard, in both Atlantic provinces and New England. The same morning, RCC Halifax also sent a priority telex to the "Air Desk" at air force headquarters in Ottawa, which handled all civilian and military UFO sightings, informing them of the crash and that all conventional explanations such as aircraft, flares, etc. had been dismissed. Therefore, this was labelled a "UFO Report." The head of the Air Desk then sent another priority telex to the navy headquarters concerning the "UFO Report" and recommended an underwater search be mounted. The navy, in turn, sent another priority telex tasking Fleet Diving Unit Atlantic with carrying out the search. Two days after the incident had been observed, a detachment of navy divers from Fleet Diving Unit Atlantic was assembled and for the next three days, they combed the seafloor of the Gulf of Maine off Shag Harbor looking for an object. The final report said no trace of an object was found.

#The Shag Harbor UFO #ufos #aliens #unsolved #unsolved mysteries

19 notes · View notes

abbysimsfun · 4 months ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 1 Pt. 7 (A Botanist in Space?)

The Nesbitts were thriving, and to surprise her husband, Daisy booked the family into a cabin for three days and nights in Granite Falls to celebrate Father's Day. But even though the summer breeze was warm, it was muggy, and the family spent almost the entire vacation indoors while it poured rain in their favourite mountain getaway. Neal did achieve a personal goal to identify an entire herbalism book worth of plants while they were there, but he wanted the family to rough it in a tent the next time they made the trip, so they all hoped next time would give them better weather.

Heather and Holly were both straight A students by the time River joined them at school, but he made friends just as easily – his best friend was Everett and Malia's younger brother, Kash. Daisy's work as a plant biologist garnered the attention of SpaceY, the Sims Aeronautical Space Agency, who asked her to join one of their missions to test flora and fauna in orbit soon after Easter. She was thrilled for the opportunity even though she had to leave home for weeks before the launch to train, but Neal called in the help of some of their friends to manage four kids on his own.

Daisy returned home with several space rocks as souvenirs, but without the elusive Unidentified Fruit Object, a space plant she'd read about in all her years researching gardening, and the one plant she had never seen. She was desperate to get her hands on a seed to study, and the search for one began to overtake her. Neal reminded her not to neglect her wellness as her obsession grew, but she was such an accomplished gardener with so little left to achieve. She wanted that UFO fruit almost as much as she wanted her children to grow up happy and healthy.

Neal met adulthood with little fanfare, at his request. Though he'd left behind his loner tendencies and now had a pristine reputation in town, just like his wife, he didn't need a party to celebrate. He simply asked his wife to bake them a cake to eat for breakfast before spending the entire day with his family.

On Henford Day, the Nesbitts returned to picturesque Isle of Volpe Park with some of the kids' friends, where they jumped from a cliff next to Cordelia Falls into the River Bagley, swimming for hours and searching for treasures left by others under Sophie the Snail. It was a sweet tradition, and they made sure to leave their own treasures under Sophie for future visitors to find.

Holly loved spending hours fishing with her mother in the park, and she'd already caught plenty of fantastically exotic fish in both Henford and Granite Falls before she was ten. Heather still had no luck with video game tournaments, but her parents never minded when she spent time on her phone or the family computer, because her grades never suffered and her social life was excellent, too. They really had so many reasons to be proud of their kids. The Pancakes thought the Nesbitts were great influences, too. They practically lived at each other's homes at both ends of Cobblebottom Street.

It was a blissful summer.

Would the heat of the season bring more bliss for the Nesbitts? ->

<- Previous Chapter | From the Beginning

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims in bloom #gen 1 #henford on bagley #sims 4 story #sims 4 legacy #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge

4 notes · View notes

kobalttheelemental · 5 months ago

Text

Map of Elementia- Biomes of Arcania

🎆 Crystal Crags- Probably one of the most beautiful biome of Arcania. The crystal crags is biome covered in gigantic magical crystals and vibrant flora species, a perfect place for mining rare minerals and ore.

The giant crystals make perfect home for magic elementals.

🎆 Enchanted Forest- A magical forest of amazing and rare flora species and friendly mythical fauna, magic elementals come here to gather ingredients to brew different kinds of potions.

🎆 Stardust Plains- A biome of vast sea of grass and tall trees dotted the plains and megafauna peacefully grazing. It may look normal but at nighttime the plains began to glow along with bioluminescent plants, animals, and even watering holes!

🎆 Dream Garden- They say if you enter this biome it will make you feel relaxed and feeling a bit drowsy. Elementals with insomnia come here to sleep peacefully and feeling refreshed.

Sometimes faunas from the Dreamscape Realm will randomly appear.

🎆 Mt. Dreamweaver- A tall mountain peak located in the Dream Garden Biome, on top of its peak is a tranquil oasis and a portal that teleports you to the Dreamscape Realm. To get there you must rest on top of the dream cloud and sleep, once your in the Dreamscape Realm you will meet the Dream Guide a friendly fellow that safety guides you on the quest for rare materials, once you have what your looking for you'll wake up and see the items you brought next to you.

🎆 Healing Springs- a tranquil biome of hot springs dotted the lands, the springs have healing properties that can heal injured Elementals.

🎆 Crystal Dunes- many travelers who visit the crystal dunes biome will see spirits dancing in the distance or maybe it's just a mirage tricking your eyes. Elementals say there is cave full of treasure hidden somewhere in the vast sea of white sand.

🎆 Manaroot Jungle- just like the enchanted forest biome, the manaroot jungle is home to exotic and rare flora and fauna species. Magic Elementals come here for a relaxing vacation or explore the jungle.

🎆 Mysterious Bog- Very weird things happen in this creepy bog.. Many report seeing strange creatures lurking in the distance, paranormal activities, and unidentified flying objects in the sky. A very popular spot for paranormal investigators to document strange sightings.

No one wants to live there except for gypsies who find this place home.

🎆 Moonlit Reef- a magical coral reef with bioluminescent tropical fish and vibrant coral species, a perfect spot to scuba dive and makes you feel like your floating in space.

#my art #Kobalt’s art #tornado outbreak #elementia #world map #world building #fictional world #ibis paint x

4 notes · View notes

cryptids-in-the-forest · 3 months ago

Text

Welcome to our domain wanderer, what do you seek?

Voices:

Mun (They/Them) creature of the bog

Kuko(Any pronouns) unidentifiable object

Aster (E/Em) little tiny creature

Fish (they/them) a fish

4 notes · View notes

rotm-channel · 5 months ago

Text

Burgeess Obeserver :1ST ISSUE!!!!JAN 16 1954!

Local news

MYSTERY FROM THE SKIES!!!

Last night January 16th hail fell upon our town,However this was no ordinary hailstorm as the hail was perfectly round with a dot in the middle.The experts are confused and so is the town.Some believe that this was caused by a freak of nature there are even beliefs that it may have been caused by a supernatural phenomenon namely aliens.Though research is inconclusive, some say it might have been a publicity stunt by the Cheerio Company but no one has come forth it is also important to note that such a stunt would be very difficult to conduct.