#and odd and opal.....

[dapper-comedy]

I cant believe i forgot about jay and monique

[opalofoctober]

can you. can you tell I have a favorite type of character

[personinthepalace]

Who do we work for? We work for Odd Squad ODD SQUAD (2014 - Present)

[nellasbookplanet]

I know that after Downfall the perspective of 'the gods are a FAMILY' has permeated fandom on both sides of the kill-all-gods argument, but frankly that isn't all they are and acting as if it's suddenly their only motivation flattens both them as characters and the narrative they (and bells hells) are in.

The Wildmother and The Raven Queen didn't 'let' Lolth get away with nabbing Opal and killing Cyrus because she’s their sister. Come on man, we've already seen that the primes are plenty capable of opposing and fighting their siblings on the side of mortals (is the calamity a joke to you??). I'm not saying the primes aren’t capable of picking the lives of their betrayer siblings over mortals (downfall showed as much) but that's not what the situation with Opal and Lolth was about in the slightest.

They let Lolth 'get away with it' not because she’s family, but because this is the very rare instance of them not only having the same goal, but of them actively fighting for their lives. As far as we know that has only happened once before on Exandria, and that time they also entered a truce to defend themselves. The vast majority of the time, the primes picking their siblings over mortals won’t happen because mortals can’t actually threaten the gods (normally), making the 'they're family argument' a moot point. The primes won’t necessarily agree with Lolth's methods, but they won’t go throwing away both hers and their own champions in a meaningless struggle when they need all their strength to stop the fucking apocalypse.

[oriopal]

opal what the hell did you seriously write toxic yuri rpf? yes. here's 2.1k of girl gax.

pairing: george russell/max verstappen.

what's ahead: they're lesbians, harold. george is kind of weird. so is max. mature content. smut. breathplay. and if i'm missing something somebody please tell me.

George is, for lack of a better word, dumbfounded. But unlike the men around her, she doesn’t have her jaw on the floor. It would be absolutely fair if she did anyway. 

Max Verstappen is in a dress. 

It's not that Max has not worn dresses before. It's that she shows up every year at the annual party in that same abysmal rag she calls a dress. It's ill-fitting and the most boring black piece of clothing George has seen in her life, and the hem pools awkwardly around Max’s feet (and every year Max looks beautiful and triumphant anyway). 

Today, however, Max is wearing a dress. George is not ignorant - she’d caught wind of the Alpha Tauri deal Max had sealed, had heard Lando crowing about it in the cafeteria, seen how Alpha Tauri had sent Max clothes, dressed her up so simple and pretty. Anyhow, George had not been prepared for this. 

George stares at Max across the room as she steps in with Liam. The white silk hugs Max’s body like flower petals. It's strapless and the corset presses against her chest in a way that makes her tits almost spill out of the neckline. It's toeing the line of decency. It is also the hottest thing George has seen in a long, long time. 

Somebody has styled the choppy layers of Max’s short hair in bouncy curls and her unnecessarily plump lips shine with gloss. She looks like she does in meetings sometimes - uncomfortable in her skin, but fierce enough to portray infuriating confidence. George thinks many things about Max and not even half of them are polite enough to say out loud. She’s unbearably rude sometimes and obnoxious when with the likes of Daniel and clever enough it grates against George. George has armed herself with rulebooks her entire life and Max memorises them only to skirt around them. Her skin looks as though it would bruise at a touch – milky and flushed, always. Her thighs are strong in her work trousers and her voice is thready and the mole on her top lip is usually curled in a sneer. She respects her own ideas above all else and her strong arms are crossed over her chest most times. No one in the office clashes with George more. George wants to kill her. 

(George wants to put her teeth to Max’s neck.)

Max navigates the venue in search of her table, oblivious to all the eyes that follow her. The bright lights shine on Max’s skin enough to imitate a pearl under moonshine. When George sees Charles come over to Max, not even bothering to pretend he’s looking at Max’s eyes, George turns around in her seat and drains her drink in one go.

-----------

Max wins Employee of the Year again. She’s won it enough times that they know not to announce Maxine Verstappen, Sebastian smiling wide as he calls out just Max. Max doesn’t give a speech and they don’t ask her to, letting Sebastian talk. Up on the stage is where she looks the most beautiful to George. Flushed pink and proud - the best out of them. Every year George looks at her up on that stage and thinks mine, mine, mine. She can never quite figure out whether she’s thinking about the award or Max. 

When Max gets off the stage, the others surround her immediately. George can hear her smug voice going high as she starts off on some agitated tangent. Max is known for her hatred for events like this, and George can only imagine how she’s faring dressed like a lamb. The blue of her eyes flashes in the lights when she opens them wide; her flat, angled features characterised by theatrical expressions as she talks. Carlos and Charles stare at her like idiots and nod along. George wonders if someone told her just right, would Max shut up? Or would she turn her slanted eyes sideways and fight like misguided prey?

“Someone’s going to think you’re planning to murder Max with how you’re staring.”

Alex looks just the right amount of amused in his tacky suit, sipping some disgustingly sweet looking drink.

“It’s not like I’m the only one staring. I’m not half as daft as the others either,” George tells Alex, who looks even more entertained. 

“And you’re staring with the same intent then? Come on Georgie, you can talk to her, y’know.”

“I might just murder her then,” George mutters, not taking her eyes off Max.

Alex shifts in his seat. He’s been itchy all week due to Lily’s absence. She’d had some tournament again and had to leave for Australia, leaving her miserable man behind. George can’t for the life of her figure out how someone can be lonely if they have a thousand and one pets. Even now under dim lighting George can see he’s tired. 

“How’s the project with Carlos going?” Max is at the bar now, lips wrapped around the straw in a glass of what is probably a G&T.

“Same old. He’s kind of fun actually. Plus now I have even more dirt on Lando.”

Back home at the farm, the sheep were George’s favourite. Even though most considered them dumb prey animals, they were clearly intelligent and had a very strong social structure with their flock. Max makes accidental eye contact with George from across the auditorium, eyes flashing in the light and face blank. George watches Max’s tense shoulders as she turns back around and laughs at something Charles is saying. Every year there is at least one incident that stirs the office chatter in the direction of mad max again. But George thinks of the way Max arms herself with some people and creates clear roles with some others, shoulders squared and plush mouth always tight with the anticipation of attack. Looks like even here George’s favourite is the sheep: even dressed as a wolf. 

“—They did go home in the same car and I have strong suspicions they weren’t going to different places. George? George, be serious.”

“There’s nothing new about Carlos and Lando,” George says, turning her attention to Alex. He looks just about done with her. She feels a little guilty for not listening more intently. 

Alex puts his elaborate fruity monstrosity down, brown eyes serious. “You know if putting a lid on it doesn’t mean it won’t boil over, don’t you? Your thing with Max?” 

“There is no “thing”. She’s insufferable.” George replies disdainfully. When Alex heaves a sigh, she asks him about Lily’s tournament. 

——— 

The problem is that there may very well be a “thing”. 

She knows she would not do this had it been anyone else. Alex maybe, but she’d be less mad. This is Maxine. George is standing at the door of Max’s apartment with a thick file in her hand at 09:45 on a Friday night. When she feels angry enough that she thinks pushing Max down the stairs on Monday would be better than whatever was about to happen now, she knocks. 

The door swings open and Max stares up at George. Her short hair is damp and curling against her neck. She’s wearing a tshirt that almost drowns her frame and shorts that are barely visible. She stands there staring at George with wide, blue eyes. George stands at Max’s door in her silk shirt, work trousers, and hair still pinned up. 

“Georgia? Did you miss me or something?” Max’s voice is thin, one eyebrow arched sharply. She looks as though she was already in bed, soft and tangible, but George can hear the music of a paused video game playing faintly from inside.

“It’s George. You left your pass in the office. I’m leaving tomorrow and no one was available to give it to you on the weekend,” George responds flatly. 

Max’s mouth twitches. She looks unbearably smug for some reason.

“Well. Come in. Don’t stand there like a ghost,” she says, already turning around and retreating back in. George stands there for a moment, jaw clenched. She’s here to hand off the pass for the Singapore conference and go home. Nothing else. She’s not part of the flock Max surrounds herself with. 

George steps in. The apartment smells faintly of chocolate and everything is illuminated by soft lighting. The furniture is mostly pastel and George sees a cat leap behind the sofa. 

“Go sit on the couch and I’ll get you some water.”

George moves apprehensively, stiff and out of place. This was not what she was imagining. Max and her soft, soft home and George sitting on the couch with her spine rigid and eyes on Max (prey? prey? predator?)

Max returns with a glass of water, putting it on the little table in front of George. She stands there with her hands on her hips, staring down at George with some sort of fallacious power. When she speaks, her lisp sounds sharper.

“Well? I have a life, Georgia and I’d like to continue with it of course if you’d get this over with. You know you could have just given it to Charles? He'd surely drop it by.”

Yes, because he’d like to stick his cock in you, George thinks, cruel.

“Or I could’ve come tomorrow and taken it from the guard. You, of course, did not need to come and be reminder of how I forgot–,”

Max tastes like chocolate. Her lips are unbearably soft under George’s and she makes a noise of surprise when George kisses her. Max strains her neck to kiss back just as feverishly and George slides her hands up to the base of Max’s neck, who shoves her hand up George’s shirt, just as impatient as ever. When George presses her hands against her external jugulars, the blonde twitches and rocks forward, keening into George’s mouth. Oh this poor, little thing. George could strangle her while she moans against George’s lips, head light and spinning. 

She manages to rid Max of her tshirt and shorts as they fall onto the couch and pulls apart long enough to take off her own clothes. Max watches hungrily, eyes hazy as if drunk. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, miles of pale skin and soft mass, flushed pink and dotted with moles. George lowers herself on top of Max and puts her teeth to Max’s neck.

“Not running your mouth now, hm? Moaning like anything, you silly thing,” George sneers, out of breath. Max whines when George swings a leg over her hips and lets the other rest under Max’s thick thigh. 

She snarls at George. “If you’d hurry the fuck up, maybe I wouldn’t be falling asleep.”

George squeezes one of her tits with her hand and lets the other rest over her neck. She rocks forward and grinds hard against Max’s weeping heat. Max hisses and grips one of George’s thighs, rocking in tandem. She hiccups whenever George put pressure on her clit and then latches her mouth to George’s nipple, biting. It feels terribly wonderful. For a momentary George thinks they're going way to fast, but the thought evaporates when Max switches to the other nipple and sucks.

George yanks at her hair and moans. “Good girl, so good when you’re at mercy.” 

Max slides down then and they both spasm when she grinds just right, biting at George’s collarbone. George sticks one hand down in the middle of them both to find and press against Max’s clit, feeling how wet they both are. 

Max screams. “Please, please- harder George, please!”

“Yeah? Look at you begging,” George pants, dizzy now, pleasure fraying her at the edges. She kisses Max wildly and presses down on her throat as Max scrabbles and scratches at George, gasping and bucking wildly beneath George before coming. A second later George’s body locks up, falling forward as she comes with a whine. 

———— 

George looks in the mirror, hair pinned back in a tight bun and her shirt tucked in her work trousers. She’d had to hunt down the iron when she realised she didn’t have time to change her clothes at her own house. Max, still eating her bowl of fruit from breakfast, sits on the bed behind George. 

“They won’t check if the stick up your ass fell out overnight just because you fucked me, don’t worry,” she says, bratty and beautiful in her sleep clothes.

“When does your flight leave?” George asks, turning around. 

“8 p.m. Why? Don’t want to see me there?” When Max looks up at her from the bed with a bitchy twist to her mouth, all George can think about is the sheep. When they were led to the butcher’s, they could always tell. They’d be distressed and fussy, making noise and bumping around. One of them in particular had been hard to send away because she’d ram into things and flail angrily. George looks down at Max, soft in her big tshirt and a hickey on her neck and smiles. She is fond of mistaken creatures. She puts her hand on Max’s neck and watches her flush red. 

“I’ll send you my room number.”

[freezinglemur]

Sorry Five I'm getting into a thing which means you're getting put into a situation related to said thing!

I love putting him in situations. I'm so sorry Five the horrors are probably kidnapping you again and you're going to get along with unconventional beings and not know why but roll with it anyway

@lieutenant-fred I am blaming you for getting me interested originally in this stuff I've been slowly looking into it (when I rember n have the time in between bugging the weapons lol) (playful)

[incorrect-odd-squad-quotes]

Opal: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Omar: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Oswald?

Oswald: Probably “road work ahead”.

Orla: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

[disco-orange]

ASSIGNING EACH DANGER DAYS SONG AN ODD SQUAD CHARACTER CAUSE I GOTTA

Na Na Na- Oprah (:

Bulletproof Heart- OTTOOOO!!!!

SING- Olympia. You just need to trust me on this. I know it doesn't match her energy, but it's so perfect for her. She IS sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts, sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts.

Planetary (GO!)- ORLA ORLA ORLA. ORLA ALL THE WAY. She's unbelievable, she's undefeatable, she will ruin everything and blast it to the back row.

The Only Hope for Me Is You- Oscar. I just feel it. In my. Joints. Or smth.

Party Poison- Based on the name alone you know this one's going to Todd. "If we were like you in the end, well we'd be killing ourselves by sleeping in" Todd. It's Todd. "We came to party, kill the party tonight" thank you Todd. We know. It works for him as Gardener Todd too, just a bit differently.

Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back- Oona. No explanation needed, just like Oprah's and Otto's.

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W- Olive. It's gotta be Olive. I can't explain why. It's the most meaningful song in the album, and it goes to her.

Summertime- Otis. It's the platonic love song ever, and it's how he feels about Olympia. He doesn't need his headphones because Olympia stops the noise. <3

DESTROYA- Orin. I will Fight anyone who disagrees with me on this. It is slower and Loud, and he's angry like the 11th doctor and an asshole, this song is for HIM. [This is the song I named my larp camp sword after, btw.]

The Kids from Yesterday- Opal. The way she leaves when her journey doesn't feel like it should be over reminds me of how this song is about the singer and the killjoys knowing they're going to die but still doing what they know is right. And the part where the music stops and then gets picked up again but a little different, and you can hear an echo of the singer's voice- it's like how after she leaves Osmerelda carries on her spot.

Vampire Money- Dr. O. Season 1 Dr. O.

[doctorwormcore]

It's just really interesting bc I thought Mush would love Fish TV but he's scared of the tank, meanwhile a month ago I bought Arty a cat spa and he hates it but mush loves it

[cinader]

Spoken Word Special

Featuring poet, Anne Myles, about Late Epistle, Sappho's Prize in Poetry, and spoken word about heat, longing, love and late life by Sekou Sundiata, Cultural Consciousness, Rosalie Sorrels, Bob Holman, Odd City, Lord Buckley, Devorah Major...

Poet, Anne Myles speaks about Late Epistle Anne Myles Tony Robles interviews poet, Anne Myles, in Greensboro, North Carolina. Her debut full-length collection Late Epistle, Headmistress Press, winner of Sappho’s Prize in Poetry 2022, and her chapbook What Woman That Was: Poems for Mary Dyer was published in 2022 by Final Thursday Press. Spoken word about heat, longing, love and late life by…

[angelic-writer]

Project Mimicry (Vol 1) - Chapter 1

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth." - Genesis 1:1

1983

"This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System. This is only a test."

A long, screeching noise blared from the old TV. The Markson family had a different program on when they announced the test. It was some cowboy show their dad loved so much. For eleven year old Jade, it made her stomach churn. It was an odd sound, different from the sounds of horses and gunfire that came from the living room while they were doing family worship. It made her want to jump into her mother's arms and pray to Jehovah for the noise to stop.

Her mom, dad and brother were silent as the attention signal droned on. After a minute, it stopped.

"This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you have just heard would have been filed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the northern Alabama area. This concludes this test of the emergency broadcast system."

Jade fiddled with the pages of her book, trying to think of the right words to say. Her brother, Caleb had resumed work on his drawing, seeming to not care about anything. Her mother let out a small sigh. "I swear, can they not scare the kids like that?"

"Mom..." Jade quietly said. "Why do they send out something like this? What if it hadn't been a test? Are... Are we gonna die?"

Opal got up from her chair and pulled her into her arms. "Oh sweetie, we're not gonna die. Everything's gonna be okay. This whole thing will blow over in no time."

"Well Jade," Opal's husband, Simon, chimed in. "They played the test on our TV because they want to inform us on what's happening. The world is at a very turbulent time at the moment so they are doing their best to keep us informed. If we were actually under attack, we would've been hiding in the basement." He let out a small chuckle.

"Well, what can we do to make it better?" Jade asked.

"Pray to Jehovah, of course. Our safety is his priority and if we pray to him, he'll protect us."

Jade smiled and snuggled into her mother. Jehovah is the only thing she knew. She may not be like the other "worldly" kids, but she didn't need all those material goods. She didn't need to see the latest movie or buy the newest toys. As long as she had her family and Jehovah, she can get through anything.

Caleb let out a soft coo.

"Oh, we didn't forget about you!" Simon lifted him out of his baby chair and gently rocked him. The whole family began to giggle.

This was their life. This was their routine. Jade was determined to be a good older sister to Caleb. And soon, he will be baptized.

-------

December 24th, 1983

"This is an important message from the Crestwood police department. This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. The Crestwood police department has issued a Shelter-in-place Warning for the county of Crestwood until further notice. Reports of unknown figures have been confirmed by law enforcement and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. For your safety, until 5 PM to 6 AM, stay home, lock all doors and windows and, in the event of a break-in, have access to a loaded weapon at all times. Do not call 911 unless you need to report an emergency. The Crestwood police department and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders thanks you for your cooperation.

Stay tuned for a message from the representative of the Department of Babylonian Crusaders."

"Hello. My name is Dr. Lloyd Evans from the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. We have been receiving reports of unknown organisms that we've decided to call mimics. You may have already gotten the alert from the EBS about this phenomenon, but we're here to tell you about what those mimic types are and what you can do to protect yourself.

The first type are the defensive mimics. They are a sub group of mimics that take on the role of a protector when they find a human. Some pose as aggressive mimics to ward off other humans or they deceive humans they perceive as harmful with their harmless look and kill them. Think of it as a predator camouflaging itself in order for them to eat their prey.

There are three types of defensive mimics. There are Batesian, Mullerian and Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics.

Batesian mimics are harmless. They pose as a harmful mimic to ward off anyone they tries to hurt them or their human.

Mullerian mimics are two or more mimics that advertise themselves as harmful to ward off predators. These mimics often work in groups of two or three.

Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics take the form of a less harmful mimic to deceive the predator and kill them.

These ones can be considered safe, but you should still be wary of them. Aggressive mimics are the ones you need to watch out for. Now, aggressive mimics are the type of mimic that pose as humans to kill them. These types use mind games to toy with their victims. If they haven't committed suicide, the mimic will finish the job.

Predators are a mimic group where they take the form of a loved one, deceive them into thinking they are the real person and then use psychological manipulation. Those are the most dangerous types of mimics and we strongly advise to avoid them at all costs.

Parasites are [REDACTED DUE TO SIGNAL GLITCH]

Now, here's what you can do to keep yourself safe. Stay in your homes after 6 PM, lock all windows and doors and keep a loaded weapon with you at all times. In the event of a mimic attack, follow the S.A.F.E. principle.

S - Secure yourself in a room.

A - Access the situation. Learn how the mimic operates.

F - Fire your weapon. If the mimic attacks, do not hesitate. It can mean life or death.

E - If possible, escape. Do not let them win.

We hope this message keeps you safe. We're very sorry for the interruption and we hope you have a Merry Christmas!"

Though this message was broadcasted to most TVs, some of them reported the S part saying something different. According to reports, it said "Surrender yourself to the Lord."

--------

1987

The young man's back was pressed up against the wall. The shotgun he had in his hands had one shell left. The creature that was at his door kept calling out to him in a mockery of his wife's voice.

"Ralphie... Please let me in... I'm sorry for sca-a-a-aring you back there. You know how I am."

His grip tightened. That wasn't her. That wasn't his wife. She was dead. And now, he was going to die too. His eyes started to fill with tears.

Marla... I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you... I couldn't save you from these things.

The image of his wife sprawled out on the kitchen floor flashed in his mind. Her neck that was gushing blood... He swallowed, trying to hold back his vomit. They had followed the rules. They had done everything the broadcast said. What did they do wrong? They had to have done something wrong for something like this to happen.

He gritted his teeth. Pondering over this won't help him now. Remember the S.A.F.E. principle, Ralph. Remember.

He secured himself in his bedroom, grabbing his shotgun so he could protect himself. He analyzed the situation. The creature, the mimic, was trying to use his wife's voice to lure him out, using his nickname. Ralphie was what she would call him when he came home from work. The way she said it made his heart soar. However, when it said his nickname, it felt like nails on a chalkboard.

The high school sweethearts had moved into the rural Alabama town after they had gotten married in New York. They thought getting away from the bustling city life would help them. They were in the talks of starting a family when the broadcast came on, talking about reports of mimics.

"Talk about bad timing. On Christmas too." Marla had said while bringing out the cookies and milk. "Let's hope Santa gets there okay."

"I hope so too. But hey, look on the bright side. This lockdown will end at 6 AM tomorrow. We've still got time to celebrate, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, anything's fun with you." She gave him a light peck on the cheek.

A low sob escaped him. There was so much they wanted to do together. So many things they had planned. Their entire life... They were now gone.

Oh Marla... Why did they have to take you? What did we do?

God, please... Please help me.

He wiped his face. No, crying and pleading to some higher being isn't gonna solve anything. I have to survive. I have to live on for Marla! If I can get out of here, I could alert the police.

With a sense of courage taking over, he pointed his shotgun at the door. The mimic had begun to claw at the door, no doubt leaving scratch marks in the wood. "Ralphie... Please... Let me in. It's so cold. My neck hurts. Help..."

"Shut up... You're not her..."

The doorknob rattled.

"You're not her. You're not her! You're not her!!"

There was a sudden loud banging making him jump. "Ralph, open the goddamn door! You'd really leave me out here with these things?! How could you?!" The thing screeched.

"You're! Not! Her! Leave me alone!! You killed her, you monster!! You're not- You're not her!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Just try and get me! I dare you! I'll fucking shoot you if you try anything!"

"Ralph..." His 'wife' had begun to cry. Normally, it would cause him to go over and hug her, but he will not be swayed. What it was doing, it was disgusting. It's desecrating his wife's memory, his image, his everything. The nerve of the creature...

The door flew open, allowing Ralph to see the monster. Though it was hard to see through the darkness, what he could see made him freeze.

Its form was tall and lanky, its arms and legs stretched out to an almost inhuman degree. What little hair it had on its head was beginning to fall off. Its skin was beginning to sag. Ralph could swear he was beginning to see bones. The mimic looked at him with empty eyes yet it pierced his soul with an intense glare. It opened its mouth to speak, but all that came out were rasps and gargles.

Ralph began to shake, his aim wavering as he stared at... He didn't even know what he was seeing. It was human, but at the same time, it was not. It looked like his wife, but it was like looking at a decomposing carcass. The smell... It smelled like rotten eggs left out on the hot sidewalk. Bile threatened to come up his throat, but he held it in.

One shot. He had to make it count. If it failed...

The creature began to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made you cringe. It was an ear-piercing, gurgling laugh that was like if you tried to imitate a toy clown on its last legs.

Ralph pressed his finger on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, he screamed out.

"I will not let you kill me!!"

The gun went off.

--------

2017

The group of kids stared at the small house as their two older brothers talked to the movers. The smallest one of the bunch hugged her teddy bear. Though leaving their home state of Florida didn't seem like a huge deal at first, Catherine still had her doubts. Sure, they were free from all the hurricanes, but they still had friends there. They still had people they could talk to.

But now, she and her brothers moved to a new town. There was no one she knew there. And there was... an abundance of churches. Lots and lots of churches.

@chibisrpblog

[teaweltzer]

Sending Stone Messages

A list for me that I want to update as new ones come in! Which w/ Dorian back, hopefully not so much (But i think I found all of them so far)

Bonus Ep 6 - Orym gripping the sending stone while Dorian was away

Ep 16 Fearne - right after Dorian leaves 

Ep 22 Orym — “We’re leaving Jrusar, heading southeast. Following the Treshi thread further. You’ve been missed. Hope you’re well.

Dorian — “Hey, sorry. Was sleeping. Thanks. Miss you guys too. Shit got crazy here too. Floating bar, I’ll tell you later. 

Ep 31  Orym — “Hey friend. Missing you here. Could really use your special brand of optimism right now. Don’t know where you are. Hope you’re happy. Bye now.”

Dorian — “Hey! Floating bar got a little weird. Took awhile to land it. This side of the fam is keeping me busy. Miss you all too- Don’t die!”

Bonus Ep 33 - Sending stone falling from Orym's hand as he dies from Otohan

Ep 40  Orym — “Hey. Yios bound. Found them- their killers. Bigger than we thought. Read rough, Dorian. Eshteross is dead. Glad you’re not here, wish you were anyway.”

Ep 41  Dorian (via Robbie)— “Oh Orym~ My heart aches I cannot be there to help you. Find strength, stay steadfast. Sending you fairer winds. …. Is this thing on or-“

Ep 49 Orym — “Dorian. Update. People we’re chasing unleashing hell in a week. We’re headed there now. Odds not good. More tomorrow. Where are you?

Dorian — “Orym! With the rest of the Crown Keepers in Tal’Dorei. Opal’s getting a little dark. Little busy at the moment.. I don’t even know how to get to you.”

Ep 49 Orym -- "Hey buddy. I have a weird request from the other side of the ocean. Can you see the leylines? Is your night sky lit up? Ash says, "Hi." You'll know if you see it. Dorian -- "Yeah, it's, It's real colorful up here, too. I'd take it in and enjoy the display if things weren't so tense at the moment.. Tell Ashton I say hi."

Ep 49 Orym — “Listen, what’s going on over here is really bad. Get the group, get underground. Stay there until you hear from me again… Miss you”

Dorian — “I'll see what I can do. There’s plenty of places underground, I’m sure. It's a little hairy on this end too. You take care of yourself. Be careful”

Ep 59  Orym — “Dorian?? Can you hear me? what’s the sky look like where you are? Tell me you’re okay-“

Ep. 63 Orym — “Dorian. still alive, by the skin of our teeth. want to talk more. you know where Dariax is?’

Bonus I miss you - Ep. 79  "I really miss Dorian and sometimes I think that's okay and sometimes it isn't."

Ep 86 Orym — “Dorian, we’re alive. Been to the moon, going back. Find the tempest. If I don’t get the chance again, I’ve really missed you.”

Ep 92 Orym — "We're home. Can you hear me? I'm northeast of Bassuras. Can you get there? I'm... struggling. Sorry. Can you get here? Fuck, I miss you."

Ep 93 Dorian (Robbie back) - "I'll be there" Bonus 93 Fearne - "Wait, what are you doing here? How did you get here?" Dorian - "Well, I got your message." Ep 94 Orym — "Dorian. Dorian. Dorian, wake up. Dorian. Fearne and I outside the city, about 10 minutes. Need you all."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A very small detail I just noticed after looking at something from @twstassets

Leah’s crown has the same auroral/opal gemstones as the ones in Dawn/Silver’s ring!

Like I said, small detail, but very sweet overall!

Ooh, interesting 😯

I wonder if this gemstone is something unique to the country that Silver’s biological parents came from…? Maybe it’s a good luck charm or has some other special implication since both a member of the royal family (a noble) and a commoner/(technically a) servant, the Dawn Knight, wear the jewel and eventually pass it onto their son.

Silver’s ring is imbued with very strong magic… I wonder if that’s the result of an additional charm or spell placed on the item or if the magic comes from the gemstone itself? If the latter is true, then that’s an odd choice for Leah, whom I always assumed to be a non-mage, to wear. Come to think of it, I always thought Heinrick was a non-mage as well, yet he was lusting pretty hard for Maleanor’s Princess Glow/Majestic Ember (a very powerful magestone, which he shouldn’t have been able to use as a non-mage).

[bottledpeaches]

all hearts as one beneath the sun

SYNOPSIS: before kakavasha dissolves into the nihility, there is one hope he has to let go of. may you meet again in a kinder world and under a warm sun.

CHARACTERS: kakavasha, aventurine, dr ratio, aventurine's family, sunday

TAGS: angst, no comfort, established relationship, mentions of suicide, 4k+ wc

TAGLIST: @mitsvriii, @harque, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @moineauz

NOTES: sobbed to "had I not seen the sun" the entire time I was writing this I love making myself cry w my own work

special thanks to @akutasoda, @tragedy-of-commons, and @https-sourlimes for proofreading this! love u all <33

link to the playlist

Aventurine was mildly surprised when he received word that he would be handling the Penacony mission. Why him, of all the Ten Stonehearts? Surely someone more capable such as Opal would be trusted with a mission of this caliber. 

He only realized why when he pried further into the details. 

Penacony was a death trap. With so many powerful and important people gathered in one place, one wrong move on his part would spell his end.

He chuckles sardonically. Figures. They’re sending their most suicidal employee out for a suicide mission.

As if to rub the situation into his face, he finds out they’re pairing him with Dr. Ratio. What purpose is he supposed to serve, suicide prevention? Too little, too late, in his opinion. 

The doctor doesn’t look too thrilled about the fact either. It makes Aventurine feel somewhat better about this whole situation. 

“You’d best get your affairs settled before we leave, gambler. The odds that you make it back alive from this mission aren’t as high as you’d hope they’d be.”

“Ooh, well I do like the sound of that.”

A glare sent his way makes Aventurine roll his eyes, but he shuts up anyway. Plans are made and discussed for what role each of them will be playing before it’s time to leave. 

“Well then, I look forward to working with you in Penacony, Doctor.”

“Just don’t act like a complete idiot and we’ll be fine.”

The two men head their separate ways. Ratio’s advice to settle his affairs lingers in his mind, though. That means there’s a will he has to sign, assets he has to distribute, funeral arrangements to be made, and more. Of course, most, if not all of it, will be going toward you. You’d be set for the rest of your life, never having to work a day again if you so chose. 

He heaves a sigh. Ah, it’s all so tedious. It was all so much easier before you came along. He had no will to worry about. He’d toss caution to the wind every mission and wind up sorely disappointed when he returned, still alive. If he did end up dying, his assets would end up being pawned off and most likely make their way back to the IPC somehow. So what even was the point then?

With all that being said, he didn’t mind putting in all that extra work for your peace of mind and so you’d continue to benefit, even after his death. 

Still, the stakes this time around are higher, and he has you to consider now before placing his bets. One wrong move and you’d be left without someone to welcome home. And then there’s the consideration of whether he’d be willing to die when the moment came. Sure, he’d attempted several times before but they’d all failed. Would he be able to take the plunge this time, should the opportunity present itself? 

“Hey, Doc?”

Ratio is about to leave, but the uncharacteristic hint of hesitation in his voice makes him stop and look over his shoulder.

“... How can you tell if you’ve lived a life worth living?”

Ratio stares at the blonde in silence in disbelief over what he’s hearing. Aventurine chuckles, trying to dispel the awkwardness that’s settled in the air.

“No answer? Never mind-”

“That answer will vary from person to person. However, if you were to ask me personally…”

The doctor’s ruby eyes flit over Aventurine’s frame, narrowing in contemplation- and perhaps a hint of resignation. 

“Ask yourself this question: can you die today without any regrets?”

“Can I die today without any regrets?” Doctor, what were you thinking when you posed that rhetorical question on me? Obviously the answer would be no!

Expensive leather shoes click against stone as Aventurine hurriedly makes his way through the Dreamscape. The weight of having mere hours left to live looms above his head like an anvil, leaving him scrambling to figure out how to cheat death- not for the hope of living to see another day, but so he can carry out his mission. 

When confronted with death, even a suicidal man will cling to the urge to live for one reason or another. 

He’s hardly paying attention to where he’s going, muttering out half-hearted apologies to those he bumps into as he stumbles through the Dreamscape before he ends up in a secluded area. The kaleidoscopic iridescence in the corners of his vision makes him stumble and he audibly groans when a searing pain flashes through his temples, the Harmony’s brand on his mind assailing him again. 

Dammit… am I really at the end of the line now? And before I could do anything meaningful either…

He hears the sound of a… child humming some distance away? That’s strange, there’s no one else here. 

“Mister, are you lost too?”

That voice. 

He turns around slowly, as if that would change anything. Aventurine’s eyes dart across the boy standing before him, with rags for clothes and scraped knees. The child in front of him is everything he is not- or rather, what he was, but is no longer. Optimistic, with bright shining eyes. Hope still exists for him. 

Those eyes. Oh, it’s himself. 

Aventurine thinks he’s about to be sick. 

“Woah, you have such pretty eyes! Can I call you Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

Aventurine stiffly nods. 

“Sure. Call me whatever you want, kid. What’s your name?”

“It’s Kakavasha. Nice to meet you!”

And that’s the final nail in the coffin confirming his suspicions. 

Kakavasha looks around nervously.

“I was searching for my family, but I got lost. This place is so much bigger than home… Mister, do you think you could help me find them?”

Aventurine shakily extends a trembling hand out.

“Of course. Lead the way. How about you hold onto my hand so you don’t get lost anymore?

Kakavasha latches onto it and begins wandering around, calling out for his parents and big sister. Every unanswered call feels like a punch to the gut but he has a faint flickering of hope that he’ll be able to see them.

“You really love your family, kid,” remarks Aventurine in an attempt to keep some conversation going. 

“Of course! I do!”

Kakavasha pauses in his steps and thinks for a bit, eyes wandering skyward and free hand resting on his chin.

“… Do you have anyone you love, Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

“Yes, I do. Their name is (Name).”

The boy’s eyes light up, sparkling in curiosity.

“Woah, really? What’re they like?”

A light chuckle escapes Aventurine’s lips as he crouches down to Kakavasha’s eye level and ruffles his hair. 

“They’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Wow, they must be a really amazing person for you to say that…”

“They are. They're incredible.”

I don’t deserve them.

He chuckles and stands back up again, hand reaching for Kakavasha’s. The little boy continues to lead the way, until he suddenly stops and turns. 

“Would you like to meet my family? They’ve been gone for so long I think they went back home. You can introduce (Name) to them as well!”

Panic wells up inside him. Seeing his family? In this state? After all he’s done? No, he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Not under these circumstances!

“Kid, I don’t think-”

“It’s ok if (Name) shows up late. They’re nice people and they’ll understand.”

“No, I-”

“Come on, let’s go! They’re already waiting for us!”

Aventurine feels himself being forcefully pulled under and he instinctively closes his eyes. A blast of hot, sandy air hits him, making him shield himself. When it settles down, he opens his eyes to a familiar sight. Sand stretches as far as the eye can see. There’s minimal vegetation and he can feel the sun beating down on his back already.

Sigonia-IV. He’s returned home. 

Kakavasha eagerly tugs on his sleeve. 

“This is my home! I know it’s not much, but everyone I know and love is here. I think you’ll like it too.”

Still holding onto Aventurine’s hand, Kakvasha begins running toward the horizon. Aventurine, meanwhile, feels numb all over. 

There’s no way this is happening. Is this some sort of cruel prank? What did that chicken-wing boy do this time? But if this is just a cruel prank…

He looks around at the yellow sand stretching as far as the eye can see and the mountains in the distance.

… Then it’s far too realistic. How is this happening? If I filter out the memories of the massacre, then everything is the same as I remembered it. 

“We’re almost there!” calls out Kakavasha. “Just a little longer now!”

Three familiar figures stand in front of a tent some distance away and Aventurine feels his heart seize up in his chest. He’s long forgotten their faces, but he instinctively recognizes them.

Mom. Dad. Big Sis. 

Kakavasha lets go of his hand and sprints toward his family. He leaps into the arms of his big sister, who spins him around giddily while his mother plants kisses over his face and his father holds his tiny hands. 

As he approaches, he realizes they have no faces. Where there are supposed to be eyes, a nose, and a mouth, there is nothing. A blank canvas with dents and ridges where the features are supposed to be greets him and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise up in warning. 

The only exception to this is his sister, with her grinning mouth and her long blonde hair billowing in the wind- the only feature he remembers clearly about her. She takes notice of him and tilts her head curiously to the side. 

“Kakavasha, did you br▇ng a f▇▇▇d of ▇urs?”

Her voice comes out scratchy and distorted with only a few syllables recognizable. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes why.

He can’t remember her voice anymore. Or the voices of his parents, for that matter. He’s forgotten what they look like, and now what they sound like. What’s been forgotten can’t be restored. 

“Yeah!” exclaims Kakavasha nestled safely into his sister’s arms now. “Everybody, meet Mr. Pretty Eyes!”

They greet him with friendly waves and scratchy sounds that he thinks are supposed to be words of greeting. He almost chokes on the guilt and regret building up in his throat

“▇▇ look just like ▇▇ Kakavasha over here! ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ his long-lost b▇▇▇▇r or something?” 

Aventurine forces out a laugh as the others join in. 

If only they knew…  

The sun is going down now, and the solar winds that blanket the planet grow harsher. They quickly usher him into the tent, telling him to make himself at home and inviting him to stay for dinner. There’s no way out as far as he can tell, so he obliges.

 It’s smaller than he remembers, he thinks as he ducks to avoid hitting his head. There’s a rudimentary kitchen setup in the back that Kakavasha’s mother is tending to as she begins preparing dinner. Kakavasha hops into his sister’s lap and shakes the sand out of his hair and gets it everywhere, to which she lightly scolds him with a tug on his cheek. 

He takes a seat on the fraying rug in the center and rubs a brightly-colored teal tassel between his fingers. The sand is already starting to seep into his clothes. He feels grains of it in his shoes and it pools onto his pristine white dress pants. Grains of it are nestled deep into the fur collar of his coat from the harsh solar winds outside that even vigorous shaking won’t dislodge.

Kakavasha’s sister smiles at him. It’s a bit unnerving, just seeing a smiling mouth with no other features.

“So, Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes, w▇at 's your ▇▇▇ ? At least, I’m a▇▇▇ ming Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes isn’t yo▇▇ r▇l name.”

“It’s Kaka-”

He swallows hard and kicks himself. He’s not Kakavasha. Not anymore.

“It’s… Aventurine.”

The very act of saying that name makes him feel like he’s betraying his family, stabbing them in the back. 

“A▇▇▇▇▇ , huh? What an in▇▇▇ing and pretty name!” remarks his sister. He feels the air rush out his lungs and almost coughs up a sardonic laugh from the sheer irony of it all. First his family, then his language, then his body, and now even his name? Is there anything left that he can truly call his from his culture? 

Thunder distantly rumbles overhead. Kakavasha and his sister peek their heads out curiously of the tent. She gasps excitedly and points to the darkening clouds overhead. 

“Hear that? ▇▇ sign ▇▇ your birthday is ▇▇▇ ▇!” she exclaims as she holds Kakavasha’s hands in hers.“▇▇▇ ▇▇ excited?”

… His birthday? 

Thunder rumbles overhead again and he hears the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the tent. 

His birthday. The Kakava Festival. 

His heart sinks into his stomach as his family chatters around him. They talk about birthday celebrations and what they’ll do that day, but it’s a muffled mess in his ears. Is it really almost his birthday already? Sigonia-IV followed many beliefs that were independent from the rest of the universe, namely the Aeon belief system, and that also extended to the calendar system. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure what day his birthday was in the Interastral Standard calendar system. He usually just flipped a coin and that was if he even bothered to celebrate, which he hadn’t done in many years. 

Aventurine does some quick estimating and realizes that yes, it’s almost his birthday. But how would he celebrate his birthday in this world, where all was good and he still remembered their faces and voices? 

Aventurine closes his eyes and thinks. His mother would be overjoyed to know that her beloved son finally has a lover now. She’d make him clean the tent from top to bottom in preparation for your arrival, even though the sand would find its way back inside again within a matter of a few hours. His parents would cook up a feast for your arrival while his sister would pester him to tell more stories about you- as if there were any left that he hadn’t. When the time would come and you’d nervously step through the tent flap with one hand holding his tightly and another clutching some gifts, his mother would rush forward and greet you with a kiss to the cheek, having already accepted you as family. His sister would steal you away from him to dote on you, much to his half-hearted chagrin. His father would tell corny jokes that you’d cringe at, and his mother would teach you recipes that had been passed down for generations, her warm, weathered hands resting atop yours and lovingly guiding your movements in the kitchen. 

The five of you, safe, warm, and alive under the sun. 

Hours after the rest of his family had gone to sleep, you’d lie side by side outside, watching the stars drift on by. Sigonia-IV is nothing like Pier Point. Free from light and industrial pollution, you’d have a stunning view of the cosmos every night. Twinkling stars shine overhead, so close you could practically pluck them out of the sky. Multicolored clouds of gas and stardust bathe the sky in their shifting hues as he tells you stories that have been passed down from generation to generation with the occasional shooting star passing by. You’d stay like that for hours on end, content to just listen and watch, until you were lulled to sleep by his voice. 

It would be cold, as all desert climates are at night, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear with your warmth nestled into his side. 

In the spring, or around now, he’d take you to celebrate the Kakava festival under the stars with a roaring bonfire. The festival itself would be a solemn and silent celebration with people murmuring prayers to the Mother Goddess and tossing sacrificial vessels into the fires, but the celebration of his birthday afterward would be loud and joyful. Bonfire sparks would rise up into the sky, carried by the hot solar winds and the rich sounds of his people’s songs. His mother would drape you in turquoise jewelry and gift you traditional clothes that she would’ve spent hours beforehand making by hand, every stitch a labor of love. He’d teach you to dance to the cheers of his family and the familiar tunes he’d hum under his breath. His movements would be fluid and graceful as he spins and twirls you around, while you stumble and flail along. He’d enjoy every second of it- even if you step on his feet the whole time. 

He would be kinder in this world, he thinks. He’d still be Kakavasha. Aventurine would be an unknown man to him. He’d wear his heart on his sleeve and his eyes would still have life to them. He’d never have to hide his left hand. 

And you’d be happier too. You wouldn’t have to sift through the layers to find the true self underneath the act he puts up. He wouldn’t be so hot and cold- practically love-bombing you one moment and then disappearing without a word for weeks the next. He wouldn’t be a dirty gambler, a two-faced businessman, a disinterested womanizer, cheating scum, an IPC mutt, a corporate bootlicker, a worthless Sigonian slut or who knows what else you’ve heard about him–

In this world, there are no Katicans. The Avigins and his family are still intact. His neck is unmarred and he speaks the Avigin dialect fluently, instead of the halting and choppy cadence that's even worse than that of a child’s. Syrupy, honeyed words spill from his mouth as he teaches you common words and phrases in his mother tongue. Have you eaten yet? How did you sleep? How was your day? I missed you. Mother. Sister. Father. Lover. Goddess. I made you something. I saw this today and thought of you. Be safe. Sweet dreams. Goodnight. I love you. He chuckles when you parrot them back to him haltingly, with your accent mixed in. The notebook you keep with various phrases, their meanings, and their phonetics grows every day. The most worn out page was the one crammed full of declarations of love that sound more akin to poetry as your mastery over the dialect grows. The ink is smeared from how often you’ve run your fingers over them, murmuring them under your breath until you’d committed them to memory. In your arms is the safest I’ll ever be. I’m lucky to call you my lover. I sleep better when I’m with you. I secretly name stars and constellations after you. I’ll kiss the weariness away from your face every night. I pray to Mama Fenge every night for your safety. I imagine her hands and embrace to be as warm as yours, and it reassures me somehow. I’ll miss your warm hands when that day finally comes. Goodnight, I love you.  

We’ll be together even in Kakava’s next aurora. 

Aventurine jolts forward with a start. His eyes search around frantically, instinctively searching for his family and you, only to be greeted with a familiar sight that isn’t his home. Bright flashing lights, the sound of cars honking and speeding by, muffled pop music playing in the distance, and the sugary scent of SoulGlad greet his senses instead of arid hot wind that howls in his ears and endless seas of sand. You and his family are nowhere to be seen either. 

Oh. Right.

The Dreamscape.

His clothes stick to his skin drenched in a cold sweat and his glasses are resting lopsidedly on his face. His whole body is shivering uncontrollably, as if he’s been plunged into ice-cold water without warning. The world is going white before his eyes and all he can hear is the loud thump of his pulse in his ears that suddenly drops. He thinks he’s about to pass out again. This is the end, he thinks. Aventurine leans against the side of a wall again, taking deep, heaving breaths to steady himself and quell the nausea swirling around in his stomach. 

When it subsides and he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of death (sadly), he sits back up and forces out a laugh in place of a sob. First forcing a religious consecration onto him, then dangling his family in front of his face? How much crueler could the head of the Oak Family get? 

His heart sinks and an overwhelmingly bitter feeling engulfs him. It was just a dream all along. A dream within a dream, really. Was he really that desperate for something familiar again?

(And just like that, the mask known as Aventurine is back in place.)

(But he couldn’t even say goodbye or apologize to his family one last time, even if it wasn’t them.)

It was a pleasant dream, he’ll admit. How nice it would be to live in that world forever. But he knew it was a dream because it could never happen, as much as it pained him. 

Aventurine hears the voice of Kakavasha drifting along from further up ahead and knows he’s nearing the final leg of his plan. With what little time he has left, he takes pictures with the boy for posterity and buys the child all the treats his eyes rest on for more than a second. Aventurine delights in the way his eyes light up at the first taste before he eagerly digs in for more. 

It’s cathartic, in a way. 

Before stepping on stage, he looks up at the sky. It’s perpetually nighttime in Clock Studios Theme Park, but he knows the sun is shining elsewhere in the Dreamscape. Is the sun shining where you are back at home? He thinks it’s morning for you. You must still be asleep with the cat cakes curled into your sides, blissfully unaware of the news you’ll wake up to. 

Get onstage. Fear not. Never look back. 

One last thing to do.

He sends a final text to you.

Aventurine: I love you.

It stays on delivered when he puts his phone away. It’ll be the first thing you see when you wake up, and that’s more than enough for him. 

It’s time for the curtain call.

The feeling of Kakavasha’s tiny body in his arms won’t be enough to chase away the grief. Nothing ever will be. But this’ll be the closest he can get.

Aventurine hugs the boy close, squeezing as hard as he can without hurting him. He feels how he’s nothing more than skin and bone beneath the oversized rags. No child should have to be this thin, he thinks, and he’s even more glad he treated Kakavasha to his heart’s content earlier. 

This is the end. He gives Kakavasha one last squeeze to imprint this memory into his mind and gets up, waving goodbye over his shoulder all the while. 

He never looks back. 

In a shower of light, Kakavasha dissolves into the Nihility, and with him, Aventurine’s hopes for the ideal future- the one that you deserved. The Horizon of Existence is finally devoid of all color save for himself and the dark sun beckoning him forward toward the event horizon.

He takes a step forward, and then another. The sound of his footsteps against the surface and liquid splashing echo loudly in the empty space. 

The Nihility is beginning to slowly engulf him. He feels it encroaching at the edges of his mind, eating away at his thoughts one by one until nothing remains. A hollow, empty feeling settles into his heart that weighs him down. Aventurine looks down at his hands and realizes the color is beginning to seep from his vision until he, too, would become one with the Nihility. The point of no return beckons to him like a moth to a flame. Nothingness, emptiness, worthlessness. There’s nothing left for him to do. 

“Can you die today without any regrets?”

Aventurine finally has an answer to that question. The past is gone and he’s walking toward no future.

Yes. I finally can.

enjoyed this? my taglist is open!

@ bottledpeaches, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[thoughtsroamguy]

Since creatures won the last poll, I have a showcase of the creatures you can expect to see in Tears of Xivo! Let's start with the less intelligent critters of the world.

First off I want to start with a personal favorite:

I call this a Dragabat. They’re not usually aggressive but are very territorial, and travel in packs. They,as you’d expect, live in dark places, and go out at night.

This is a Sea Dart. They attack ships and are the reason a lot of ship crews need to be armed. Probably slimy to the touch. Could make for good eats tho, not that I eat fish.

This little guy we’ve already seen, but I like him so he can be here again. Here’s Opal, the colorful crow! He’s a familiar to a character I haven’t made yet. He’s so cute!

This is a bull dog fish. Very aggressive, they’d flop onto land just to bite you. They don’t travel in packs but sometimes hunt with other predators.

This is a giant crab! I don’t have a clever name for them. I put a person next to it for scale. It’s kinda cute.

This guy also doesn’t have a name besides what he came with: Tentakill.

Extraordinarily dangerous and rare, just seeing one and living to tell the tale is a clout boost. Though the odds of that are slim to none.

A more classic fantasy creature, the griffin. I like griffins, I think they're cool so they can be in here. They're smarter than most creatures, but very defensive. You might be able to befriend one but you might also offend it and it'll tear you to shreds. So best to give a wild one space.

This is a Shabark! I called them that cuz sharks bark. They're very friendly! They've been known to walk on land to help folks sometimes. Look at that smile :)

This is an Usher, gigantic flying plant like creatures. Many people believe they help souls pass on from this world. Despite their size, they float gently on the wind. They are peaceful, and attacking one is considered a pretty dickhead move. No one knows how long they live, or if they even die.

Now that we covered non-sapient creatures, let's go to some non-human (Non-Ori) folks.

This is a Lamia, similar to but NOT a Naga like Sahkyō is. Do not confuse the two, or they'll get very mad. Lamia’s have longer, thinner tails than their cousins.

These octopus ppl are called Lalalutas, if you can figure out why, you get a virtual cookie. I wanted some water based folks that aren’t just mermaids and this fits the bill.

These scorpion ppl are called Lisins after the Sumerian goddess associated with the Scorpio star. I was wary of having another half person half animal creature but I thought a scorpion would be really cool.

This gooey lady is called a Dilatant. Isn’t she squishy?

Though they look like a Turnt Ori, this is actually a separate species that naturally grows crystals out of their bodies. They’re called Blings.

This we’ve seen before, this is an Omeg. A fish person. I call them Omegs cuz Pisces are the final sign in the zodiac, so they’re the omegas.

[incorrect-odd-squad-quotes]

*Oswald is attempting to un-affirm Opal's conception that something she brought up is longer than the FNAF lore...*

Oswald: Wellllllllll-

Opal: You're not. You're NOT.

Oswald: I think I might be.

Opal: Don't you do it.

Oswald: *deep inhale*

Opal, pretending to hold a switchblade: Listen, all I know about the FNAF lore is that the purple guy kills kids and they possess animatronics, AND I DON'T NEED TO LEARN MORE.

Oswald: FNAF lore has 8 main games with several spinoff games along with 10 books that are all over 20 chapters-

Opal: Okay, I MIGHT take that back-

*Oswald bursts out laughing*