#creating species

[cemeterything]

I know you've made some weirdos in your time (ocs) but have you ever dabbled in creating a species of dragons?

idk how well oc creation skills translate to specbio but i mean. if i get the inspiration you'll all hear about it.

[cuubism]

it's been a while since i've written something that could be described as "literally just hurt/comfort" but well. here it is. i guess XD

--

It amused Hob endlessly that Dream never seemed to sit on his throne. Perhaps he did when welcoming official delegations of visitors, or conducting official business, but Hob had never witnessed it. Every time he had been to Dream’s throne room, Dream had been sprawled on the stairs instead, long limbs all askew, coat flared out dramatically below him, like some kind of panther reclining on its tree branch. Moody, petulant, dramatic thing. Hob loved him so.

He pet up and down Dream’s side as he sat beside him, and Dream, panther-like indeed, purred, pressing his nose into Hob’s throat. He had been about to show Hob something, take him to some new corner of the Dreaming he had created, but as usual they had gotten distracted, necking on the steps like insatiable teenagers. And now they were just talking quietly, one of Hob’s legs slung over Dream’s, Dream’s arm around his waist as Hob kept stroking up and down his rib cage under his cloak.

“I did intend to show you the new gardens,” Dream murmured, but made no move to leave Hob’s side. “You will enjoy them.”

“I’m sure I will,” Hob said, pressing another kiss to his hair. “Enjoying this too, though.”

“Would you like to enjoy more?” Dream asked, suggestion in it now, and Hob laughed.

“If you’re feeling committed enough to get up and lead us to your quarters. I don’t think Lucienne deserves to get an eyeful.”

“I could close off the throne room and have you upon these here steps,” rumbled Dream, grip tightening on Hob’s hip.

“And I could have you over your throne, if we’re doing that,” Hob countered, and a shudder ran up Dream’s spine.

He managed to disentangle himself from Hob and stood, offering a hand. “Come. We will retreat— this time.”

Hob chuckled, letting Dream pull him up. “Not in an exhibitionist mood today?”

“I’d like you to myself.” So saying, he strode down the steps, already summoning a swirl of sand to take them away— back to the waking world, maybe—

when something struck him.

Only there was nothing there. But Dream lurched backward the way the soldiers of Hob’s youth would fall back when lanced through with an arrow on the battlefield—he stumbled on suddenly weak legs, clutching at his chest, and with a cry of pain just—

—dropped

just fell in the middle of his throne room, the very seat of his power. Landed on shaking arms that were already giving out, shoulders curved and head hanging.

It was fucking terrifying.

Hob rushed over to him, fell to his knees by his side. Hands hovering for a moment as he tried to decide if it was safe to touch him. Safe for Dream, that was. Hob hardly cared about what might happen to him. “Dream,” he said, but Dream didn’t respond. He seemed barely able to hold himself up. As Hob watched, blood trickled from his nose and dripped onto the marble floor.

Hob abandoned caution and took him into his arms. Dream wiped at the blood streaming faster from his nose with a limp hand, but only succeeded in smearing it everywhere. “Dream,” Hob said. “What’s happening, love?”

Dream just closed his eyes. “Something…” he murmured, the word slurred and nearly unintelligible, “terrible. Silence. And. Death.”

A tremor rushing through him like an electric shock, and the Dreaming… separated.

Hob felt the schism go through it, felt his own body separating from itself like an earthquake right through the center of existence, the very air trembling. He looked at his hands and saw them in double, looked at the throne room and saw its colors refracting outward in layered planes, and then Dream, in the center of it all, dense as a neutron star.

Then it all slammed back together.

The force of the impact flung Hob across the room, away from Dream. He hit the floor hard, struggling to catch his breath as he scrambled upright, dizzy. Everything seemed to have congealed back into one layer again, but the hall was shaking, and on the other side of the room Dream was trying to push himself up, and failing as his limbs kept giving out on him, blood puddling on the floor from his nose and mouth.

What could possibly make Dream bleed? In his own realm?

Hob raced back over to him, skidding to a stop and crouching by his side so fast he almost fell over. Dream was on his knees, eyes screwed shut, hands pressed to his temples. Hob laid his hands over Dream’s. “Hey. Can you hear me? Can you look at me?”

Dream just let out a pained whine. And then Hob was very glad he was holding onto him because the whole room spun.

Suddenly they were upside down, gravity reversed so down was up, up was down, and Hob was on the ceiling looking down at the endless void of space. They didn’t fall, though, and he wrenched his gaze back to Dream before the vertigo made him puke. And then the room swung upright again, but this time it took gravity with it— Hob grabbed a hold of Dream’s hand and just barely stayed in place but heard things crashing against the palace windows, trees and houses and god knew what else that had been uprooted in the spinning equilibrium.

“Dream,” he said, holding Dream’s face between his hands. “Can you focus? Come back to me, love.”

Dream finally looked at him. His eyes had lost their human veneer and gone starry, but one was utterly black edge-to-edge, like it was dilating wrong in its view of the universe. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but what came out instead was another gush of blood.

“Shit.” Hob hauled him upright, kept him in his arms as he choked and spasmed, blood coming up with each cough, streaming from his nose. The sky had shifted to a glaring red, the stars angry eyes against it, and screaming rose higher and higher from the distant woods outside the palace, a thousand animal voices rising in chorus. “Shit. Alright, it’s okay.” He pet Dream’s hair, kept his voice pitched low and soothing, though his heart was hammering under Dream’s ear pressed against his chest. It most definitely was not alright, but Hob didn’t know what else he could do, other than try to bring Dream back from wherever he was. There was no injury, there was nothing he could fix. “It’s alright, my darling. Come on.”

Dream whimpered in pain and jerked as a lightning bolt of energy raced through him, zapping each of his limbs. Blood had started streaming out of his ears now, too, and past the sleeves of his robe Hob could see bruising around his wrists and trailing up his arms. He yanked up the hem of Dream’s shirt, and found more on his torso, patternless marks of bleeding, and his stomach lurched.

“Alright, alright, let’s get you down,” he said, keeping his voice gentle despite the panic racing through his nervous system. He laid Dream down on the floor, taking off his own jacket and folding it as a makeshift pillow to put under his head. Dream immediately turned and curled up on his side, hands over his ears.

Hob leaned down to try to meet his gaze. “Dream. Hey.” He caressed Dream’s cheek. “Dream. Please. Anything you can tell me that will help. Come on, darling. Talk to me.”

After several long, painful seconds, Dream managed, each word a dragging, pained whisper, “It will pass. I prom—” this was cut off by a horrible scream, animalistic but all wrong, off-pitch, like he was being eviscerated by an electroshock probe.

Matthew careened into the throne room and landed at Hob’s side. “Holy shit, there you are. I thought he was dying in a ditch somewhere, the Dreaming’s going fucking haywire.” He prodded at Dream’s hair with his beak, hopping in distress. “Boss. Boss!”

Dream seemed totally lost to them now, clutching at his head and making an awful whining sound. Hob finally gave up on trying to get him to talk and just pulled him close, laying Dream’s head in his lap.

Matthew perched delicately on Dream’s hip. “Do you know what happened?”

Hob brushed Dream’s hair from his sweaty, feverish forehead. “Not a clue. He said it would pass?”

Matthew tittered nervously. “A whole wing of the library is burning.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Loosh can’t get the fire under control. And a whole mountain range fell into the sea. Is this the apocalypse?”

Hob let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it this doesn’t get better soon I’m calling his sister for help myself.”

Dream sucked in a huge breath as if summoned back to life by Hob’s words and said, each word a heavy scrape, “She will be far too busy for that.”

Around them, the Dreaming seemed to stabilize, shivering back into place. Everything went quiet again. Hob’s exhale of relief shook his whole body. “Hey. Hey.” He took Dream’s face between his hands and tilted his head up to look at him. “Hey, love. Are you back with us?”

Dream nodded. He looked utterly exhausted, glassy-eyed and with tremors running up and down his frame, but no longer like he was being actively tortured. “That was. The worst of it.”

“The worst of what? Did somebody hurt you?”

“No.” He looked to Hob for help, and Hob didn’t like it but he hauled him upright and helped him sit, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and letting Dream lean against him. “I am,” his voice was hoarse, each word a struggle, “the sum. Of all living minds in this universe. And when so many of those lives are ended at once. I. Feel it. That part of myself. Dying.”

Hob looked around before remembering that he couldn’t exactly see anything from here. “Something happened back home?”

“Your planet is not the only one with life,” Dream said. Hob shook himself before his brain could latch onto that—it was too much to be confronted with in the middle of a crisis. “I do not know exactly what transpired. I will have to ask Death. Only, it was significant.”

“What, like thousands of people? Er, beings?” Matthew said.

Dream’s gaze slanted over to him. He looked horribly sad, underneath the exhaustion. “Trillions. Not only intelligent species dream. Smaller creatures. Insects. Some plants. All eradicated.”

“That’s why that happened to the library,” Hob realized. All the books of all those lives.

Dream’s eyes snapped to him. “What happened to the library?”

“Apparently it was on fire—”

Dream tore himself from Hob’s grasp and staggered to his feet, rushed through a door that hadn’t been there a moment before. He was listing violently to one side, stumbling off balance, but didn’t stop, and Hob and Matthew chased after him.

They tumbled through the door into an inferno, the towering library stacks crackling and popping in the incredible heat. A surprisingly modern sounding alarm was blaring overhead, lights flashing. Lucienne had found a fire extinguisher and was valiantly attempting to put out the blaze, but she could do nothing against the sheer scale of it.

Dream careened into a table, caught himself just before falling, then thrust out his hands. The room plummeted to freezing in an instant, and Hob’s breath caught as all of the oxygen—to whatever extent that even existed in the Dreaming—whooshed out of the room. His chest went tight, and he was pretty sure it was only the nature of the Dreaming that kept them all from suffocating.

Dream held them in stasis like that until all of the fires had sputtered out, starved of air. Then his arms fell heavily to his sides and he dropped sideways into a chair, panting. Air swung back into the room, and Hob sucked in a deep breath.

“Lucienne,” said Dream, breathing heavily, “what— what is— the damage?”

Lucienne sat down beside him. She looked rather more concerned about the state of Dream himself than the books—his skin was still absolutely covered in blood, his face gaunt and hollow, limbs shaking—but she said, “We’ve lost most of this wing, my lord. What happened?”

Dream squeezed his eyes shut in dismay. “Too many lives felled at once.”

Lucienne laid her hand over his, gave it a squeeze. Hob knelt beside him, laying a hand on his knee.

“My fault,” Dream murmured. “I should have conceived of some protection against this. Or recovered myself. Quicker.”

“No,” said Lucienne, even before Hob could. “I don’t think you could have stopped this, my lord.”

"You can't prevent people from dying," said Hob.

"I can certainly prevent their books from being wiped from the library," insisted Dream, and then slumped, leaning his face on his hand, brow pinched in pain. "Too much strain on the Dreaming at once," he murmured, mostly to himself. "This should not have happened."

Hob squeezed Dream’s knee. “I’m sorry, love. I’m really sorry.”

Dream’s frown didn’t soften, if anything, his shoulders slumped further.

“I’ll see what I can salvage,” Lucienne said, standing upright again. “You should rest.”

Dream didn’t seem to have the strength to oppose this. “Matthew, will you find out if any residents were injured in the destruction?”

“Yup, on it, boss.” He landed on Dream’s shoulder for a moment, preened his hair, then winged away again, out of the library.

Then it was just Dream and Hob.

“Hey,” Hob said quietly. Now that they were alone, Dream had gone nearly as limp as a doll. Hob took both of his hands. “Let’s go rest, yeah? You must be knackered.”

That barely scratched the surface, but bringing up Dream’s moments of weakness—as he would see it—was rarely helpful.

“I am not tired so much as…” he plucked each specific word individually from the ether— “Stripped. To the bone. Like carrion.”

Hob’s heart hurt, doubly so for Dream having actually admitted it. “Let’s go rest then, yeah?”

Dream shook his head. “I do not wish to simply return to my quarters. I do not wish to simply return to my quarters. That is not what the Dreaming deserves after this failure.”

“Somewhere else? You can’t just go and try to fix it all now, Dream. Please.”

“Somewhere else,” Dream agreed, at length. "For a time." He interlocked his fingers with Hob’s. Then the library was swirling out of view, and they reemerged in a familiar grassy dell, sitting in the long, soft grass. Fiddler’s Green, Hob thought. Of course.

Gilbert—for since learning that Fiddler’s Green was a he, Hob couldn’t help but call him the more human name he’d chosen—seemed unharmed by the damage that had plowed through the Dreaming. Dream sat cross-legged on the soft ground and brushed his fingertips through the grass, a self-soothing motion. A warm breeze tumbled through his hair, as if Gilbert was trying to comfort him.

Hob gathered Dream into his arms, and as he did a tree sprung up from the ground behind him, growing from a sapling to a massive oak in moments. Hob leaned back against it, holding Dream close. “You’re a gem, Gilbert.”

The leaves rustled in response.

“Has something like this happened before?” Hob asked quietly, lips brushing Dream’s hair, and Dream nodded.

“Yes. Hence why I should have been more prepared.”

“Not what I meant. I wanted to know how to help.”

“There is… little to be done,” Dream said. “In time, the Dreaming will integrate the loss. Any acute damage, I will fix. It simply requires some… patience.”

“And what about you?” Hob said.

This time, Dream didn’t say something about how the Dreaming was him. He just didn’t respond at all.

Hob held out a hand. “Do you want to help me out here, then, Dreaming?”

A soft, wet towel appeared in his hand. “Cheers.”

“Hob,” said Dream uncertainly, as Hob budged him up.

“Let me see your face.” He took Dream’s chin in one hand, and began scrubbing away the blood with the other, wiping clean his lips, and the corners of his eyes, his chin, his throat.

Dream watched him silently. Hob was still wiping clean the sharp hinge of his jaw when the first tear slipped from his eye. “So many dreamers,” he murmured.

Hob pulled him close and pressed Dream’s head to his shoulder. He still didn’t know exactly what had happened, in some far off corner of the universe. But Dream’s pain was plain enough. “I know, love. I’m sorry.”

“I am used,” Dream said, “to the normal cycle of life and death. I have never considered it a tragedy; it is the way of Time. Death herself is kind, but not all ends are, it is the way of things. But such sudden, and widespread destruction. This feels. Like a tragedy. Not only lives were lost. But whole species. Cultures. A history, too. And its remembrance.”

“And normally you’re the one that remembers it,” said Hob, and Dream nodded.

“Now… I can only remember fragments about those civilizations. Whatever survived in the library, or on the fringes of my realm. I can feel the loss in the fabric of dreaming—but I cannot see what was once there.”

Hob kissed the top of his head. “You care so much,” he said, as Dream’s tears wet his shoulder. “Oh, darling. I’m sorry.”

There was really nothing more to say; he couldn’t make it any better. He could only hold Dream while he processed and regained his strength. And so he did just that, leaning back against the tree in the warm, calming breeze of Fiddler’s Green, and kept Dream close to him. And when it came time for Dream to fix the damage done to the Dreaming, Hob would stick by him then, too.

[justpostsyeet]

Now i can't stop thinking about some orc scholars. Like they wouldn't have been some brutish animalistic beings after living in middle earth for so many years. They have speech, they live in communities and they can have a coordinated war formation so, their might have been some development of culture in their communities. Maybe we just don't know because their history was never preserved.

[dingoat]

The poll decreed that the majority wanted to see some feline-based star wars character designs, so here's a bunch of little space meow meows for you all!

So here we have a farghul pilot, a lynna privateer, a togorian noble, a trianii smuggler, a cathar bard musician, and a zygerrian padawan!

[triptychgardener]

In regards to that harleycrockerbert post, there’s something about how homestucks first real flash is there to describe the weirdly desolate, isolating feeling of the suburbs, with the audio of wind whipping down the street with chimes. I feel like that was meant to be a bigger theme somehow but got dropped

YES, EXACTLY! Like, that flash is the literal title card for Homestuck! It's notable that, whenever we see June/Jane's neighborhood, there's almost no one around. Just row upon row of near-identical houses, and besides from one possible neighbor, there is absolutely no "community" that exists there. All the kids, to one degree or another, grow up in a place of physical isolation. Dave being stuck on the top floor of a huge apartment complex, Rose being sequestered out in the middle of the woods, Jade on her island, but June's isolation is that particular American Suburban Desolation that's captured perfectly: a neighborhood, ostensibly for people to live in, but completely devoid of life. Even small details allude to this particular interpretation: why the hell does Dad Egbert have to constantly take his car to get more baking supplies? It doesn't take him that long to get back, but it's clear that a car is necessary for getting around in the suburban sprawl. The sort of archetypal nature of the tire swing, attached to a single, scrappy tree in the front yard. The continuing use of "can hardly be considered to be a proper [] at all!" applied to what would be considered normal for a Proper American Suburban Family. I could go on! And this is a much bigger discussion, but isn't it interesting that the game "Sburb" mainly functions through building up an endless, tumorous growth of the same housing, over and over again? One might even say that the goal of the game is to create a Sburban Sprawl so overwhelming that it makes a whole new universe, which certainly has... implications for the world beyond. I'd need to do a thorough reading of like, the Epilogues to see if that's actually conveyed/dealt with, but these continuing motifs of the suburbs never really leave homestuck even as it becomes more fantastical. I do kind of wish there was more textual stuff in the comic that dealt with that, but I think Egbert (and a lot of the kids) in Homestuck proper lack the necessary context and introspection at the time to grapple with the world that came before.

[assortedvillainvault]

If you don’t mind can I request a headcannon of pitch black dating a human reader would be like

Oh absolutely, I love this dramatic bastard so much it's unnreal.

Pitch Black x Human Reader Headcannons

Pitch is... testy.

Not on a concious level, but it's a twofold reason for this relationship to not be the smoothest, at least at first.

On a personal level - he's not been vulnerable, genuine or just alone without the intention of frightening someone for literal centuries. It's hard for him to put down his paranoia, his mind games, his need to remain untouchable and one step ahead.

As such - snarky bastard. He loves to play little games: sing- songing that he knows something you don't, putting things onto high shelves just for fun and liking to startle you by appearing silently and waiting for you to notice him.

It's fun, but it can lead to you feeling like you're on uneven ground, and you will need to push him to recognise the effect he's having on your relationship. Doing this without convincing him that you're sick of him already will be hard, as this entire approach is indicative of his own fear of rejection and failure.

The second reason, and one that took you some deep talks with the other guardians to realise, is that Pitch literally embodies an archetype in fiction, most commonly shown as an antagonist, but at it's core is The Challenge.

Pitch, for literally thousands of years, has been The Challenge to anyone who encounters him. The threat to be recognised, heeded and conquered. He's the third act, the test for every hero, the insurmountable odds meant to test your mettle and prove yourself.

Pitch's whole being is teaching and testing people to grow. And growing is painful, and scary, and necessary for change.

Whether he realises it or not, Pitch is pushing you to be better by acting out so you will Call Him On His Bullshit. He pushes your boundaries and smiles when you plant your feet and set them harder. He teases you for staying in your comfort zone so you'll defy him and try something new to prove him wrong. He wants to see you grow more than he wants to see you wither, which is rare for Pitch.

On the flip side, you literally have the monster on your side. The darkness and everything that resides in it is now your friend. You can walk in the darkness confident that you won't be hurt, because the master of those shadows has his eye on you and his scythe at the ready.

Aside from all that, you've noticed Pitch's role has left him critically fumbling in one aspect of your relationship.

He has no idea how to respond to physical affection. Like. None. He craves it so badly he doesn't even know what to do once he has it aside from cling.

So now it's your turn to make a game of it! Touch him as much as possible. Hug him, hold his hand, pull his gangly ass down onto the sofa and ruin his hair. His protests will barely make it out before he's melting into a goey pile of shadows and sand.

You can bribe the nightmares with sugar and cookies. They will also eat creepy crawlies from inside your house, which is nice.

Pitch will sometimes convince them to release said creepy crawlies into your shower. Your soap throwing skills are now legendary.

[mystxcfire]

Dawn Au

Change the outcome, Change the future

another Au, I thought up because honestly why not

Inspired by the movies; Bubble & the hunger games but mostly more on the Hunger Games

_________

- Every Trolls are forced by [Redacted] in forming districts or villages of different trolls.

- Mount Rageous is the wealthiest, most technologically advanced of all the regions. It supplies the most resources to the [Redacted] including going without punishment at times. (combined of District 1 and 3) known as Region 1

- Volcano City is the second wealthiest as they have the power and weapons since they can manipulate the things around them order to get on the well graced of the [Redacted]. They also control the livestock as the Rock trolls are natural hunters. (Combined of District 2, 5 and 10) known as Region 2

- Techno Reef was considered useless at first, towards the [Redacted], but eventually they had found a use for them. They are to supplied fishing as a way for them to live. Is considered the third wealthiest of the regions. (District 4) known as Region 3

- Vibe City has always been progressive for the [Redacted]. As they provide transportation in regards of the ‘contestants’ during the games at all time despite them being very calm and collected. (District 6) Known as Region 4

- Symphonyville has been subjected into creating fabric as they mostly keep to themselves at all times. This also makes them the fourth wealthiest of all of the regions. They are well loved by the [Redacted]. (District 8) known as Region 5

- Lonesome Flats handles the grains and the agricultural products as they are very well suited for the jobs. They are a well adjusted environment and well equipped to maintain their placed as the fifth wealthiest and the second favorite of the [Redacted]. (Combined District of 7, 11) known as Region 6

- Bergen Town handles lumber and mining as that’s was they were good for in the eyes of [Redacted]. They are one of the poorest regions ever as they are mostly miserable. (Combine of District 9 and 12) known as Region 7

- Pop Village have been isolated for a long time including after escaping from Bergen Town (Region 7). The [Redacted] never gotten a chance to see them before a disaster occurred in cutting of Region 8 from the rest of the world but that didn’t stop them at all. (District 13) known as Region 8

The Capital is placed between, Region 4, 5, and 6 as the [Redacted] are known to highly favored those three regions the most.

Brozone Placement + Poppy and Viva

- John Dory stayed in Region 8 w/ Branch after the split of Brozone. Poppy also resides in Region 8.

- Bruce resides in Region 4 on a little island in the region called Vacay Island.

- Clay and Viva resides in Region 7 in an abandoned placed that the Bergens don’t used anymore.

- Floyd resides in Region 1 as he was held captive for a bit before escaping and living in a well adjusted Troll community in Region 1.

Casts

John Dory as Katniss

Branch as Primrose

____________

This are the only ones that I can think of at the moment for which trolls character that matches with the hunger games characters. You guys can requests/asks me for which other characters that fit perfectly with the hunger games characters.

Also, I love the hunger games so much decided that Katniss kinda reminds me of John Dory since they both would do anything to protect their younger siblings.

[coffehbeans]

Y'all might be wondering where I've been. Well, I've been drawing!

These are Juhren and Sunflower, my oldest g/t ocs (they're from 2018!) I'm very fond of these two and I was thinking about them a lot, not to mention redesigning them, and before I knew it, I've drawn a whole portrait aushshs

Although the only stories I've posted about these two were fluffy (here and here) their bond wasn't like this at first!

More about them under the cut~

Basically, Juhren and Sunflower are childhood friends in a fantasy world where each sentient being has a magical power inside them, which made the world full of different species of creatures. Humans like Sunflower, however, do not have this power and in the land she lives in they're being killed and harvested for a unknown purpose. So Sunflower pretends to be a magical species that's related to nature and plants (hence her name) and it was during this undercover period that she met Juhren. He's from a species of giants called the nordem, a barbaric, violent and powerful kind that's currently on war with the leaders of the country. However, when they met, Juhren was a child and nordem children are just a little taller than human size.

After a falling out, they've been separated until adulthood. Sunflower is discovered and has to flee her village and the country altogether in order to survive, hiding from basically everyone, since humans can be captured for a very high reward. In this world where she can trust no one, she needs allies in order to escape, and meeting Juhren again, now a powerful and (apparently) ruthless giant like the others, he might prove to be just the person she needs.

Sorry that got long lmaoo anyway I have their first meeting planned out (I've written it a few times as well) and, although I have a lot on my plate rn lol, I want to write it one day and show it to you guys! I've only been showing Juhren's soft side so far, but truth is he rarely makes the face he's making at the drawing ausush So anyway I love them

[sonknuxadow]

originally had a super long multi paragraph ramble about this written out but then realized i did not have to say all that . anyway . i think that the reason some little animal guy sonic characters have last names while most others just go by (name) the (species) has to do with cultural differences... the fact that the characters with last names are also the same characters who have more human sounding first names makes me think that they were born in an area that had a large human population, or that their parents or grandparents were, so their family was influenced by human naming practices

[draconic-absurdism]

My airplane dragon friends! They are part of a civilization of dragons living in the eye of a never-ending storm. Over the course of thousands of years and many generations, these dragons evolved to become bio-mechanical in appearance, usually resembling aircraft of some sort. The animals here, too, are powered internally by gears and hydraulics.

Xevon (he/it/xe) is an outcast who is deeply bored of routine and wants to venture outside the eye of the storm.

Cirrus (he/they) is Xevon's boyfriend, and prefers a quiet life of reading and writing. But where Xevon goes, Cirrus follows.

Zoleil (she/they/it) is the fastest racer in the world, and a butch lesbian icon with dozens of women lining up for an autograph. She has been ordered to find Xevon and Cirrus and return them to safety.

[cuprumbao]

some nightly worldbuilding notes'n sketches

ivo fullbody ref

[loafbud]

I made a new guy, he's called a doopadoo

[cherubytes]

im having so many thoughts about mindflayer variations. why havent i seen any midnflayer variations

[frogcroaks]

A character redesign for a friend of mine! Based on a personal species of mine, and here's the old design for reference:

[trigunwritings]

Bro,, plant courtship such an ascended idea 👀👀 may you please spare us some crumbs? 🙏🙏 how awkward would the courtship displays be for the boys? Would plant!reader even get it, or are they disconnected and kind of confused by them for whatever reason? What kind of display would impress them? It feels like you opened a floodgate in my brain and now I have to analyse the plant bros under a microscope– /pos

Between the two of them, Vash is the first one to make a move—it’s difficult to tell the difference between his motions of courtship and those that aren’t, as he is a friendly man to almost everyone he meets. Finding the occasional trinket hidden amongst your things was curious, but it never once struck you as something worth mentioning. Once you had found a shiny piece of sculpted metal made from several spent bullet casings, and on another occasion there had been a necklace placed perfectly so you’d come across it after waking up, crafted from a rough-cut gemstone that glittered like the full moon.

They were nice and lovely, but there was a particular gift that made your heart flutter upon finding it: a clean, fresh flower. There was something about seeing it, vibrant and in a full bloom, that made you incredibly happy—perhaps it was because the flower, though plucked, was something truly alive. You could feel the gentle hum of its energy flowing through the stem and petals, could sense the fertile soil where it had been so lovingly grown. The instincts of your true form were hardly needed to understand how precious the anonymous gift was, and you made sure to keep that flower alive for as long as you could spare the energy and attention.

Vash, of course, eventually commented upon it. He must have thought he was being sly, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out that it had been him who had gifted it to you. Despite the desire to know where he had gotten it from, there was something that had kept you silent; it felt like a game between the two of you, and somehow you instinctively knew that the game had to play out properly.

What that entailed was entirely beyond your conscious thoughts, since you understood your plant self about as much as you understood your human form: which is to mean not at all. Instincts and innate muscle memory are what led most things for you, like faraway whispers that tried to help you know what to do when all else failed.

You wonder if this is how your people—how plants so many generations back, before perhaps even human influence—had courted one another.

When Knives begun to follow suit with his brother, the notion became even more clear. One flower had become two, then three, then several more. You kept them all alive and at a full bloom, though you aren’t sure how. Instinct demanded that you treat them as precious things, wonderful things, but it was eventually infeasible to simply carry them in a bundle.

So, for no reason that your mind could offer, you started to weave them together. The motions themselves seemed familiar and comforting despite the fact that you had never been taught them; the stem of one flower braided alongside another, over and over until items formed that you could wear instead of carry. A bracelet of bright blossoms, a crown of beautiful blooms; these things somehow felt right to make of the brothers’ gifts, though you couldn’t place a particular reason as to why.

Was it the act of perceived creation which impressed you so deeply? The idea that they could produce something so fragile and beautiful on a planet that didn’t otherwise allow such things to grow?

You didn’t quite know the answer, and doubted that you ever will. What was more important was the fact that, whenever you started wearing their gifts, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of their souls and the soft echoes of their thoughts against your own. Instinct or not, that alone made you feel very happy.

[gothyanki]

thinking about her (Gith the Liberator)

Thinking about how much I wish she were the deliciously messy, morally complex, and believably motivated protagonist of a Space Lesbians vs. Empire trilogy instead of a flat villain/historical footnote in the Fiend Folio. Unfortunately, DnD.