#something something visual of having claws without them actually getting in my way

[callia-evergreen]

god i really want to get back into making cosplay/costume stuff but everything sounds overwhelming i dont even know how to articulate why its just. i havent actually done it very much and its hard

i usually get my mom to help me figure out how to do this stuff but its like. she has a full time job and even less of a clue than i do at making this kind of stuff. (other than sewing which she has mostly just made clothes)

id love to try to figure out how to do this stuff on my own or maybe find some people to actually help or at least to takl about it with or SOMETTHING but theres like. not really a community locally and im betting that even if there were regular meetups id do a horrible job of actually showing up if it wasnt something mandatory like school

i feel like im always overestimating how much i can do and how well i can do it and so even when i make something cool its still sorta frustrating.. and mostly its just so much work and then i get relatively little use out of it too

i dunno i have several projects i still need to finish and many many more that ive never started. lol. but i still feel like maybe it would be cool to try to do something. i feel like i want to make some dragonish type thing like horns or tail or something but i feel like i dont know where to start. maybe horns would be more doable cause tail seems like it would need a whole fuckin thing underneath to stay on, and apparently people just use headbands for horns? ive only ever made small forehead horns but big ones would be cool maybe but they seem difficult to balance and have them stay on

sorry this is probably hard to read but i just need to type this shit out somehwere to actually think about it i guess. screaming into the void or whatever with the small chance that someone might actually see it and maybe be able to offer some advice i dunno.

i know theres templates online for some of this stuff but it would be nice to be able to figure it out myself too. to be able to make stuff in more specific and different shapes and stuff

[jaewritesfic]

Melon AU Part 4

Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.

If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.

The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.

She was right, it's scared and it needs help.

Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.

Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.

He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.

Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.

The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.

…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.

The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.

If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.

“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”

Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.

Did you get a better look at the injuries?

She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.

Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?

A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.

The heat of it, the slickness.

Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.

“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”

There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.

“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”

There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.

“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”

She taps once.

“Two for he-”

She taps twice.

“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”

The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.

Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.

“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”

She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.

“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”

There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.

Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”

An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.

“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.

Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.

Masterpost

[loganhowlettshousewife]

Okay relating to a recent post, cleaning up Logan after a fight/mission? Maybe you have a kit ready to go when you hear him return, put his favorite pjs on a fluff cycle so they're nice and warm for him. You clean off any blood (maybe a few remaining wounds if it was BAD bad), and wipe down his claws. Maybe shower together, letting you run your fingers through his shampooed hair before getting cozy for the night

I just wanna take care of him

you! you get it!!

comfort

summary: you take care of logan after he comes home from a mission.

cw (treating this like ao3 tags): blood, wound tending, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, not proofread at all, english isn't my first language so beware, reader has hair, i'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but i'm a girl so i may have accidentally added something gendered without realising idk. this is very soft! you can say this is out of character for logan but i believe he's actually a big softie and just wants love!

word count: 1619

logan comes home to you sitting on the couch reading a book. or, well, you’re trying to read, but it’s hard to focus on anything when logan’s out on a mission. you know he can’t die, his regenerative healing factor pretty much guarantees that, and yet there’s still an irrational spark of fear that lives in you, lighting a fire in your heart every time he gets called away by the x-men.

every minute that passes is a dagger, every new star that appears in the sky a reminder of how long he’s been gone. missions for the x-men can be mere hours or last for days, you remind yourself, and time has nothing to do with how dangerous it is.

though logan typically only gets chosen to go on the dangerous missions. he’s not the one they ask to convince new, young mutants to go to the school. he’s too harsh, too jaded.

you immediately drop the book when you hear the sound of the door lightly creaking open. you’re on your feet in an instant, there to catch logan when he falls into your arms, sweaty and bloody and tired - not as much physically, he has insane stamina, but mentally.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“missed you more,” you reply.

you stay like that for a few minutes. you both need the comfort. early on in your relationship, logan would refuse this type of comfort after a mission, claimed he didn’t need it, he’s fought and killed his entire life and never had a sweet thing like you to take care of him when he got back. but you did, you needed to know he was there, with you, a physical presence, proof that nothing terrible had happened to him.

secretly, he revelled in those moments. now, he trusts you enough for those feelings to be spoken out loud, whispered reverently between “i love you”s, declarations of affection and faith. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him to open up this way, to verbalise his feelings instead of swallowing them down.

“you’re covered in blood,” you comment, running a hand down his chest.

he shivers, “most of it’s not mine. but they got a few shots in.”

you hum, pulling back to take a better look at him. his shirt is torn in a few places, and in the middle of his chest are multiple neat, round holes in the fabric, small marks showing where bullets pierced his skin. the wound itself has healed, but the blood remains, a visual reminder of the pain your boyfriend was feeling not so long ago.

he may heal quickly, but he still feels pain, feels agony, and your heart shatters at the way others seem to forget that, so quick to put him in the line of fire. he’ll be fine, they say, and while that may be true physically, there’s only so many times a man can play human shield before he breaks.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, the next part of your routine for when he returns from missions. 

it’s a dance you’ve almost perfected, the way he wraps his arms around your waist and you have to walk to the bathroom with him clinging to you. 

he sits down on the closed toilet seat, closing his eyes and letting you do all the work. his claws come out next, stained with the blood of those he harmed and killed, yet you trace them softly all the same. they protect you - he protects you, really, and so you’ll always be grateful for them, even when logan considers them a curse, a stain upon his existence, turning a man into a monster.

you grab a washcloth and dampen it, wiping meticulously at each sharp blade, from his knuckle to the pointed tip of the adamantium. soon, the washcloth is stained a dirty red, almost brown in its appearance, and the metal gleams brightly under the bathroom lights.

there’s an ease to his posture when he retracts his claws, so slight a difference that no one else would have noticed. he told you once that he can feel the blood remaining on his claws when they pull back into his skin, that it’s an uncomfortable reminder that he’s hurt people, that he’s a killer.

he doesn’t clean them himself, says the reminder is necessary. you disagree, and so you took to wiping them down yourself every time he came home after any sort of fight.  

there’s a small spot of blood between each of his knuckles where the claws pierce his skin, the tiniest bit of red that welled up before the cuts could heal themselves and you wipe that away too. then you lean down to press soft kisses to his hands, the part of himself that logan hates most.

he sighs, a shaky exhale leaving him at the sight of you lowering onto your knees to worship him, to prove your adoration.

any other time that would be enough to turn the mood of the evening into something much different, but he isn’t willing to give this up quite yet, this soft intimacy that’s always felt so foreign to him, a type of love he’d convinced himself he would never get to experience.

“i’m gonna go throw our pajamas and a few blankets into the dryer. you can get the shower going in the meantime, ‘kay?” he agrees easily, of course, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and soft.

pulling away is almost physically painful but you manage. you find the fluffy hello kitty pajama pants you originally bought for logan as a joke as well as the matching set you bought yourself and grab the blanket that sits at the foot of your bed, throwing them into the dryer to warm them up.

he sleeps naked most days, a blessing for you, but on his more difficult days he likes to cuddle up to soft, plush fabrics. besides, you like to think that the silly pajama pants bring him comfort, a reminder of your love for him, that you’re thinking about him even at the most inopportune of times.

he’s in the shower when he returns, the water tinged pink as it slides down the hard, muscled planes of his body. you’re quick to undress and join him, stepping under the hot water, feeling it soak into your hair and skin.

“you’re gorgeous,” logan says, grabbing onto your waist with his large hands to pull you to his chest. he brushes your wet hair out of your face. “can’t believe how lucky i am to have you. what did i ever do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“you don’t have to do anything to deserve me, logan,” you say, “just being you is enough. and really, you do so much for me. every day.”

“loving you is the best thing i ever did,” he admits, “i’m gonna continue to do whatever i need to keep you. wanna be with you until i die.”

you’ve had conversations like these before, usually always in moments of vulnerability, often coming after devastation and horror. he doesn’t say these types of things in the light of day, but he doesn’t take them back later either. they just stay, floating in the air between you.

one day, you think, you’ll be able to have a real conversation about the future with him. it’s a goal to look towards, but he’s not quite there yet, and you’re okay with that. you’re content with what he does tell you, praise that he marks into every inch of your body.

you use your body wash to clean him, knowing he’ll smell faintly of you afterwards, and the possessive part of you is pleased. your hands tangle in his hair, scrubbing the shampoo into his scalp. his head is tilted down so you can have better access. 

it gets harder to finish cleaning him as his body leans into yours, two magnets always seeking each other. 

you exit the shower before him, allowing him a few more seconds under the water pressure to pull the last remnants of tension from his form. you pat yourself dry and then hurriedly grab the garments you’ve thrown into the dryer, stepping back into the humid bathroom as logan turns off the water.

the adrenaline has made way for bone-deep exhaustion, and so you help logan dry off.

it’s peaceful, quiet, as the two of you finish your nighttime routines. he brushes his teeth and watches you do your skincare routine, unwilling to go into your bedroom if you’re not by his side.

he falls asleep before you, for once. typically, he struggles to fall asleep, worried about the nightmares that plague his slumber and the possibility of harming you while unconscious. it’s nice to see him sleeping peacefully, the stern lines of his face flattening into a soft tranquillity that only you get to see.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy but you need to watch him just a little longer. so you fight the darkness that wants to pull you under, focusing on the hand you have placed on logan’s chest, the way you can feel the steady rising and falling of his breathing, the way his warm skin feels against the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll always come back to you,” he’d told you once when you had expressed the worry that seizes hold of you whenever he’s away for long.

you’re smiling when you fall asleep, those words replaying in your mind. he’s home, with you, and as long as he comes home to you everything will be okay.

[tubbytarchia]

Traffic/Life series roster as dinosaurs

A lot of these don't make for very good hybrids unless you wanna get into freaky territory or full on centaur but... Hope it's a fun scroll nonetheless!

Grian - Novialoidea

A small birdie... The name also means "New wings" which I find fun. New lives and death games to be part of, new wings to accompany him... (Honorable mention to "Shuvuuia" the "desert bird" who unfortunately is not a pterosaur (doesn't fly)) (Yes we're including pterosaurs! Just using "dinosaur" as a conveient blanket term)

Tango - Aratasaurus / Pyroraptor

Fire raptor! Either works just fine and Tango as a skittery little raptor is perfect for a creature like him

Scar - Apatosaurus

"Deceptive Lizard" harkening back to Scar's scamming tendencies. Though I've always liked the idea of him being some larger gentler animal in any hybrid scenario and a long-neck fits the bill well. He can poke his nose into people's conversations easily to start marketing something useless to them and swishes his tail to ward off anyone who's about to stop him

Impulse - Nasutoceratops

Ren - Regaliceratops

Horns. COOL horns. I don't know what else you want from me ceratopses are just way too awesome. Nasutoceratops is a wicked cool dinosaur for having its horns point so forward much like a bull and I for one can jive with some Impulse bull symbolism. Bulls are often viewed as strong, sturdy and loyal, traits also assigned to Impulse a LOT of the time. But though he IS intensely loyal in many cases (+ Ceratopses are also known for how they defend their own!), and he's not very outward about the following traits, he can get quite petty and bitchy and hold grudges. Still, you don't think of that when you look at him and he seems to agree! Eg him feeling like he should be accepted into Cleo's alliance in 3rd life without actually proving himself when Cleo was rightfully hesitant, at which Impulse more or less rolled his eyes. And him proclaiming "betrayal!" when killed by Bdubs when their alliance was as firm as a rat's tail

(And I feel the need to point this out too just in case: "bulls are also known for their temper" yeah but they're not like that! Bulls like many animals become defensive when exposed to aggravating behavior or movement! Which you could work into Impulse's grudge holding and intense loyalty...? I don't know enough about him sorry but do with that what you will)

Regaliceratops! Regal!! Crown shaped frill!!! Need I say more?

Gem - Therizinosaurus

Theris are so bad bitch coated to me and I would love to have one as my wife I mean um I couldn't decide on a less generic specimen so Gem can just be a Theri! A herbivore - often associated with the belief that herbivores are gentle passive creatures, but far from it, especially with Gem! She bares her claws like it's no one's business

Martyn - Stygmoloch

A Pachy with a tough head and a tendency to bonk people - I think it fits Martyn's tendency to perpetuate drama haha. The Stygmoloch's name though more or less translates to "demon of the styx river", the river of the underworld representing loathing of death. To me this makes sense with all the watcher lore (that I have a hard time understanding but whatever!!) especially with how Martyn became in LL. The watchers themselves don't loathe death (??) of course. They're death games. But someone within the game trying to stay alive and win? Probably loathes the idea of themselves dying. I have no clue what Im saying

Pearl - Carnotaurus

Ok maybe a hot take not to make her into a pteradon or even a raptor with wing-like features but those just didn't fit that well in my opinion. Rather I wanted her to have some kind of horn motif in place of her wings as visual symbolism for her character. I'd like to imagine her having fine horns, to then have them damaged (one broken off) and simultaneously the other more grown out. Think of how domesticated goats for example have their horns trimmed. I think human hybrids with horns would do the same to keep them from becoming a bother but Pearl would neglect to after her heartbreak in DL. I was heavily considering the Diabloceratops for this, especially because of the name (Devil horned face - good ostracizing material) but Pearl strikes me a lot more as a carnivore and there are only two horned carnivores out there so... Carnotaurus it is haha. And even now I'm making her horns unrealistically big but.... We can suspend some belief

BigB - Oryctodromeus

"Digging Runner"! I've already talked plenty of why BigB is very rabbit behavior to me and my reasons for assigning this burrowing dinosaur to him are similar. Tldr he is fidgety and cautious yet clever and constantly buries himself underground

Lizzie - Anurognathidae

I don't even fucking know man it made me think of Lizzie and then I wasn't able to assign anything else to her. Lizzie often claims to be confused and if any dinosaur looks to be in a perpetual state of confusion then its this one. I know a lot of people like to portray Lizzie as a butterfly also so there you go, wings!!! And it's quite cat-like too for those who like to draw her as a cat

Mumbo - Leinkupal

I really struggled with Mumbo... So many different dinos fit him imo but I figured it should be at least something moderately large (so "Technosaurus" was out of the question lol). Then I rediscovered this dinosaur whose name translates to "vanishing family" and then I thought about LL and SL and how Mumbo went out quickly after the initial death/s and left a very felt absence in someone's alliance and then I became really emotional and forgot what I was doing

Joel - Nodocephalosaurus

Bdubs - Psittacosaurus

"Knob Headed Lizard"

Joel as an Ankylosaur has been stuck in my head from day one of assigning dinosaurs to the Lifers and I'm frustrated that I can't truly explain why. You'd view an Ankylosaur as a slow and docile creature, even compared to other herbivores, but...

1. Maybe not so much nowadays, I don't know what non-dino nerds think, but I feel like ankylosaurs were largely believed to be HUGE back in the day, much like velociraptors, when in reality they're not that big. The Nodocephalosaurus is especially small even among other ankylosaurs. But, well, we all know what Joel loves to say about himself

2. Joel is or likes to make himself look well in control, just as ankylosaurs have little to worry about as far as predators go. Especially in earlier series where he was content basing mostly by himself. It's always when things get dire and he enters his red life that he becomes very impulsive and erratic like an ankylosaur flipped on its back

3. I know there's a distinction between Traffic Joel and Empires Joel and whatever other Joel but... Even in death games his more charitable traits shine through here and there. He really becomes a dangerous rascal for a large majority of the time and he's very good at it, he's not putting on a mask or anything, but I like to remember that underneath that tough spiky armor is gentleness and caring. His care towards Lizzie and Pearl and Etho etc etc

4. The image of Joel as a hell of a spiky creature is just really fun to me. Yet heavy and blunt ones! And someone once proposed the idea of him having a club tail but having chiselled it to be sharp to mirror him being a menace. (Added benefit also that it's lighter that way haha) To me he's always been an obvious heavy hitter rather than stealthy or particularly creative etc. Him as a carnivore just doesn't work as well for me

The name bares no fitting meaning but when I look at Bdubs I think of Psittaco. All other species close to it in looks are already ceratopsians and we have like... 3 of those already lol. Im sorry Bdubs you look so stupid

Cleo - Lythronax

There's so few predators in this roster lol oops, but Cleo deserves to be an apex one! The name translates to "Gore King" because you know, zombies... and you know, Cleo is very king so true. If any of the Lifers should be able to boast rows of razor sharp teeth to gore others it should be ZombieCleo

Scott - Theiophytalia

I've been really struggling with Scott but how about the dinosaur whose name translates to "Belonging to the garden of Gods". There's only one known specimen of this species and it's an Iguanadon looking dinosaur which I think a lot of people would regard as the most basic, possibly boring type of dinosaur (if it weren't for the Allosaurus which already takes the title of "basic straight white guy") but that further fits Scott imo. It's always been a strong point of appeal to me how MUCH there is to his character that so often goes under the radar or unexplored, and how he's very often portrayed as just some handsome looking guy as opposed to a hybrid etc. He's not at all extravagant yet has mastered his craft of bending fate in his favor, he so often has things perfectly under his control just as he wants them, etc... reflective of the name "Theiophytalia" even if you wouldn't think such a dinosaur to sport one of the most prolific names a dinosaur can have. Also garden something something flower husbans. Basically whatever Bree's take on Scott is lol. I don't wanna blab for 5 paragraphs about that blue mf here but. I hope this makes sense

Jimmy - Yinlong

I struggled with this mf the most because he's another very hashtag deep character. I felt really bad to remove his bird motifs completely because the canary is so essential to him, but a raptor nor a pteradon fit my image of him at all. I spent so much time looking into various species but it just aint it, but Yinlong was possibly quilled and we can still cover him in feathers, even if he has nothing close to wings haha... BUT ANYWAY. Yinlong is a small kind of pathetic looking dinosaur, and Jimmy definitely isn't small but he'd sure be made to feel that way. Yinlong translates to "Hidden Dragon" however, a rather thought-provoking name for such a dinosaur. Given his character, it sure does feel like there's a soul of a dragon laying dormant somewhere in him, buried by all the self deprecation and curse labels. Honorable mention to Tianyulong, a very similar dinosaur who was named after a museum, but "Tianyu" also translates to peace and content. Something that Jimmy can't yet but deserves to be

Etho - undefined raptor

Already made a loong post about raptor Etho haha which I assume yall have seen since the support towards that post is the only reason I'm even making this post

Skizz - Olorotitan

"Titanic Swan" close enough to an angel right. I feel the whole angel thing is a bit overdone when Skizz can become a malicious little creature every now and then, but swans much like angels do get viewed as beautiful and taken as symbolism of love. Much like Skizz is largely viewed as an angel and often as someone who can do no wrong. But mostly I wanted Skizz to be a hadrosaur/duck-billed dinosaur, because those are dinosaurs known for their speculated vocalizations. And what is Skizz good at? Talking and voicing his love and appreciation? Yeah? Yeah... I'm so sorry Skizz btw this hybrid idea does not work out

Again, a lot of these don't work so well as hybrids... Some like the long-neck ones I cant imagine to have more than a spiky spine back and a tail, but! These picks aren't based on hybrid potential but rather what I think genuinely fits. I did really work on this all day looking through a bunch of dinosaurs and research haha, but I do love dinosaurs a lot... If you disagree with any hey thats cool! Feel free to give me your opinions if you've any and I hope this was fun to scroll through regardless

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

Buddy pal friend, show Tumblrrrrrrr your arttttt

Show them the L u n a r ™️

Ramble about them p l e a s e

Hehehehe alien Lunar rambling time >:) including art for visuals

(note: this is just my interpretation/au of the “lunar is technically an alien” thing and it’s very self-indulgent, as all the stuff I create usually is also this may or may not end up becoming canon to the Icarus au, we’ll see)

So starting off, Lunar has a lot of features that are indicators of him being an alien/star-hybrid (my interpretation of the stars is also different though I won’t focus on that here-)

These features are (but not limited to):

Lunar, similar to Toothless from httyd, has retractable teeth (his teeth can retract on command into little pockets in his “gums” aka the silicone alternative of gums that he has)

His teeth are also sharper with much more prominent canines

(also yes he has used this ability to scare/surprise kids as well as family before)

This isn’t exactly something entirely specific to him but he also has padded hands and feet and retractable claws

The thing that is more so specific to him though is that he is really good at climbing walls as well as other usually hard to climb places as the pads themselves act as natural suction cups

Lunar and the others are semi-organic (which means they can do things such as properly ingest and digest food and drinks amongst many other things) HOWEVER, Lunar is different in ways than the others

One of these ways being that he doesn’t bleed oil but instead actual blood though it is still of course different from normal human and animal blood

Lunar can be injured much easier than the others due to this though something about his biology allows him to heal quickly, though how long it really takes depends on how severe the wound is

Lunar also has a form that is much more alien-like though they often don’t use it as they’re still getting used to it (the most they use it is during training as its easier to use their abilities then)

This other form gives them other physical traits such as soft and squishy feelers/nubs around their head and along their body that are very sensitive to changes in the air and vibrations as well as touch (he is able to pick up the faintest of sounds and movements using them so it can be very overwhelming)

Being semi-organic also comes with other abilities (both for Lunar and the others): giving them equipment like tongues as well as other things

This means that any of the cast who are semi-organic are technically able to have kids due to their biology, including Lunar (though due to being part alien their methods are slightly different from the others coughs)

Anyways✨

Along their face and body are star/constellation-like patterns that, while barley visible in the light, glow in the dark/at night

Lunar’s eyes also glow at night and he has amazing night vision (though the ladder is a thing others like Moon and Eclipse possess as well due to coding)

Going back to the patterns; they can technically communicate using them (they just don’t know how to yet-), kind of like how seawings use their bioluminescent markings to communicate in wof, by pulsing and flickering the lights (which Lunar sometimes unintentionally does when they are startled/flustered/upset)

Two versions of Lunar with markings (without light and with)

I see Eclipse given four arms all the time so why not Lunar? He’s part of Eclipse’s code after all (and part alien now sooooo 4 arms :) )

Moving onto behavior:

Alien Lunar’s behavior is more feral (ex: growling/hissing and baring his teeth when upset or scared)

He is not a complete wild animal or anything like that but he does possess animal-like behaviors such as the one listed above and more (he can get really feral though when he’s super upset or scared or just experiencing other really high emotions)

Other behaviors include:

Zoomies when super excited or happy

Kneading like a cat when sleepy

Other vocalizations like purring (which is more like a rumbly whirr than an actual purr but still) and clicking/chirping and cooing like a dove/pigeon

Lunar tries not to let things like that slip much though they still do and they get embarrassed by it (again they’re still very much getting used to everything)

That’s all I have rn, again this is very self-indulgent and also I’m going into depth about a lot of stuff and being detailed (even with the more “below deck” stuff if you know what I mean even though can’t really say much about that here coughs) cuz I like doing that when creating any kind of biology for species/character stuff, it’s fun and helps build an interesting and complex thing I think

Imma stop rambling now-

[fyrefrostanimus]

I've been considering making a Voice OC/sona for a while (what can I say, I like the silly bird guys) but just didn't know where to start. I got an idea now though, just not a name. I'll describe them the best I can and accept any recommendations since I don't know how to look for this online.

They're based around me a lot. It's probably going to be the most open I end up being about myself even if not directly. I just got the idea from my own life and thought it worked.

Using they/them for pronouns because I'm truly not sure about how they would identify yet. It might change, or it might not.

Starting off, I based their design off a lyrebird. I like lyrebirds, for one, plus it also opens up the idea of varying vocal tones from the usual of the other Voices.

For clothing, the idea was to minimize the visual space taken up by the silhouette. They told their wings close to their body and hide them under the poncho, as if trying to look small. Even keeping their tail feathers down. They like looser clothing on their top, with the aforementioned poncho and a loose tank top-like undershirt, while pants are slightly closer to the skin.

Their wings are relatively small: not so small as to look odd, but still smaller that you would expect. Those aren't folded normally, but instead are more tucked to the sides of the torso to flatten them further. They spread out more to the sides when they sleep but otherwise stay under the poncho. Also, their claws are chewed down and mostly dull. Mostly.

For how they show up, you have to get The Princess to keep switching up her act somehow without changing your mind on your own actions. Basically, keep helping her, but doubt her intentions. At some point her help would become crucial, so abandoning her or slaying her isn't an option anymore. Die one way or another and boom you got this guy.

They want to avoid The Princess as much as possible at first. Get away before even getting to her. But the closer you get to encountering her, the less they really try to get away. In the cabin, they want you to wait in the room for a bit. There's clearly no getting further away now, but you can at least delay getting to her. Once at the top of the basement stairs, they just want to get the chat over with. Get down there and see what she wants so we can be at peace.

They tend towards encouraging you to tell her what she wants to hear. If she thinks you're guilty of something, they might ask you to confess regardless because it ends the conversation quickly. Same goes for feelings. They try to figure out what answer The Princess wants to hear and want you to say that, but there's never a guarantee that they're right: they can be wrong and when they are wrong they apologize profusely.

They don't want to "bother her" with your physical ailments. As long as you aren't mortally wounded, she's probably not going to help or comfort you much about it. Or much comfort at all. They're used to being their own source of comfort, rather than seeking it from The Princess since she only helps you physically survive.

Despite all the seeming willingness to do what The Princess wants, they aren't. They don't like how they are being treated (berated if they don't do something to her standards, told that they're ungrateful if they dare bring up her treatment of them and straight up denying it, and ignoring their complaints while going off about her own). They want to lash out and do at some point, but they recoil in fear afterwards. They're mostly afraid of her reaction to being told how they actually feel. Which, with his version of The Princess, isn't great.

Sometimes they seem to act a bit like an animal: less so than Hunted by far, but the behaviors are still there. They make quiet whimpers or squeaks when scared, and an excited vulpine "scream". That last one probably annoys most of any other Voices present. They get territorial over their belongings (in this case, the blade) and any room they might claim as their own. They do feel forced to hide these, though often the sounds slips through.

They want freedom. From the basement, turned into a maze, and from The Princess, who you must rely on to guide you despite how she treats you. They believe it's only a matter of time until you're free, and they seem optimistic about getting away finally.

But if you escape, they say they want to go back. They want the freedom still, but they don't know if there's anything out there for them anymore. It's been who knows how long since you first entered the cabin, so how much has changed beyond the woods? Maybe staying in the basement with The Princess would have been safer, despite everything. Will they be able to find their own path, when all they've ever done is follow on that is marked? They're scared of the future, fully unsure of what it may hold. If you turn around, then by this point Shifty has come to claim this version of The Princess. They panic. There's no return to her. Not anymore.

They would 100% be against you in the "And Everyone Hates You" ending. You refused to comfort them, just like The Princess refused to comfort you if you needed it. And now you've stooped to the same level as her. How. Dare. You.

Last note: if they see you as a friend they will snuggle up close. Physical contact is their form of showing affection and

[adobe-outdesign]

Pokemon review: Pinsir

(I don't have any Pokemon review requests right now and I actually think we're getting close to reviewing all of them, so here's one that hasn't been done yet.)

No Japanese game inspired by bug collecting and Japanese beetle fighting would be complete without a stag beetle Pokemon. Pinsir here delivers in a pretty interesting way—its counterpart Heracross is still reasonably bug-like with some monster attributes, but Pinsir is the exact opposite, being more of a monster with some bug attributes.

Having a bipedal stance, it only has four limbs—two freakishly long forelimbs and two incredibly stubby legs. The body is just an oval with a few segmented lines (the segments not resembling those of an actual beetle, if anyone was wondering), and it has this really cool gaping mouth full of horizontal teeth, as opposed to standard beetle mouth parts or the more traditional Pokemon way of giving bugs regular human-ish mouths. The horns are white in contrast with the brown body, and are covered in little "thorns", kind of a nod to how stag beetles have spikes along the inside of their mandibles.

Overall, it's a pretty neat design and I like how unique of a monster design it is. Sure, it doesn't really have a concept beyond just being a stag beetle, but the unique design really helps it to stand out. My only issues with it are that I wish the horns were even more oversized, but to be fair Gen 1 did have sprite size limitations. I also kind of wish it was just a little more colorful—stag beetles come in beautiful colors, like black and the maroon one above, so something a smidge higher contrast would've been nice, especially because there's so much brown in Gen 1.

While mega Pinsir exaggerates the horns slightly, making them longer and extending the spikes on them, it mostly adds a pair of wings. This might seem a little random relative to the horns for those who don't know what it's based off of, but actual stag beetles do in fact have wings, and given that there's only so much that can be done with the horns I think this is a logical enough direction. And look how happy it is about it!

Visually, the body makes a few adjustments that I really like. The lines on the body now match the eye shape, which feels much more natural and fills the space around the head. The mouth shape has changed subtly, and the eyes have been changed from the generic Gen 1 triangle eyes to a really cool ringed design that matches the body segments and a yellow color to match its new wings. The feet claws now face downwards (for grabbing things) and I really like the way the horn spikes are both longer and less erratic in terms of placement. The only arbitrary change is the fins on the arms, but they don't hurt anything. Great stuff here.

The wings themselves add some much needed color to the design, and are a good bug-like shape. I will say though that I think they're just a little too detailed considering how busy the body is. The random spikes go through the elytra, raising the question of how it closes its wings (I guess it doesn't necessarily need to as this is a battle-only form, but still), and the veins are hard to make out under the arms. I think the spikes could've just been dropped, and the veins greatly simplified.

Something about the wings also feel ever-so-slightly disconnected from the rest of the body—I think it's just because they're so colorful compared to the rest of it. I kind of wish the horns had just a bit of orange or yellow at the tips just so the color could be pulled through somewhere that isn't the eyes, and I also think a deeper, richer brown for the body would've accented the orange color better. However, as a whole, this design's pretty decent.

Overall, Pinsir has a pretty unique monster design that gives it a lot of flavor. Mega Pinsir improves on Pinsir's basic design quite a bit, with the only issue being a few too many details and a few minor color issues. Good stuff all around.

[muirmarie]

for the fic ask game:

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year aaaaand

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

no preasure!!!!!! :)

3. Favorite line/scene I wrote this year: gotta go way back to the start of the year for this one, but the end fight in the time loop fic, "it ends or it doesn't". I'm not the type of writer that writes a lot of beautiful lines - I don't mean that in a self-deprecating way at all, it's just not my style . My style of writing is one where my goal is to make uhhh none of it stand out? I want it to ideally draw the reader in without hmmm conscious effort. I want you inside the story before you realize you're reading a story. (Yes, I'm aware that sounds silly, but I always sound silly when I talk about my writing lmao.) SO I really don't tend to have specific lines that stand out, imo?

[cut for length but also because the rest of the answer to 3 does have spoilers for the time loop fic which is the only fic I've ever written where I do think spoilers matter]

BUT the build-up throughout "it ends or it doesn't" did allow me to write A Fight. I adore writing arguments. I love when people spend a great deal of time not saying what they mean, and then when a fight finally blows up, everything they're not saying suddenly spills out. One of my absolute favorite things. So the fight in "it ends or it doesn't" - that's my favorite. It's a long scene - the fight itself is as long as some of my other fics, haha, so the actual line that's my favorite is: “Leonard, why do you believe your love to be a burden?” Mostly because I don't often get the opportunity to distill a fic down to a single line - usually it would feel too obvious or too heavy-handed, but this one not only allowed it, the set-up of it basically demanded it.

But yeah, honestly the emotional catharsis of that fight makes it my fave. Some people commented they were happy I didn't end the fic on them getting out (which I appreciate!), but I was always writing the story to the fight, not to their escape, which is why the fight felt, I think, so necessary? Because the central issue was never about escaping, it was about McCoy refusing to be loved.

14. A fic I didn't expect to write: Oh that's easy, that's the enemy within fic! There were plenty of other fics I wrote this year I didn't necessarily plan for, but the enemy within one (wish i was a better liar) is the only one I adamantly said I wasn't going to write lmao. I wrote the first idk 500 words or so and posted them on a discord with a very strongly worded message that i Wasn't Writing It, and then I, y'know, wrote a 17k story lmao.

Sex...generally doesn't interest me that much. Fully support it, think everyone should read and write it if they like it!! But writing sex is a lot of work for me, and because it doesn't interest me much, I very rarely write it - this was I think the second explicit fic I've written in my life? I've mentioned on here that I have aphantasia, aka I don't visualize things in my head, and to get around that I tend to hang my descriptions on very specific hooks, and that works pretty well for most of my writing I think, but sex is very physical, so it's honestly kind of a pain to deal with. I think it's one of the reasons I don't find it very interesting to read, either - part of it is the grey-ace thing, sure, but a big part I've come to realize is that I skim scenes with lots of descriptions. Clothing, furniture, city or building layouts, I'm not visualizing it, it's going in one ear and out the other, so I might as well skim it. I think that's the case with sex, too?

Now that you have all the reasons why I'm the worst person to write sex lmaoooo, the draw of it for me was Kirk. The story's mostly focused on the wolf!Kirk, and I couldn't get out of my head this idea that he's desperately clawing at McCoy for something he can't name - that McCoy will give him anything to bring his Jim back, but he can't give him love. And wolf!Kirk shouldn't want love! Love makes you weak! He can't be weak! But it still doesn't stop that desperate, clawing wanting.

When I realized I couldn't shake that, I realized I Had to write it, and it was, truly, such a pain to write re: the physicality of it. I think one of the reasons why there's so much dialogue and hmm idk if introspection is the right word? is because it breaks up the physical actions for me. Very much a character study wrapped up in sex.

(To be clear I know a LOT of stories about sex are character studies, and also a story doesn't need to be about anything besides sex to be good!!! This is really just me explaining how I tricked myself into writing the thing that's the hardest thing for me to write, it's not a value judgment on sex/smut/etc!!! This is why I rarely go into this type of thing, lmao, I've been called a prude Too Many Times in my life, and this is me genuinely just trying to explain it fucking sucks to have to try to hold that data in my head as I write since I cant' see it! Sex and physical altercations!!! Too physical, too hard to write!!!)

Anyway then the after part of it got way way way too long as well, which mostly works because I loved how the Spock giving McCoy that aftercare turned out! The fight at the end of this one I don't love as much, but that's okay, sometimes fights are just messy jumbled messes like that haha. I think I left a little too much unsaid for this one, looking back. Like I think the end fight would've paid better dividends if I'd pulled more to the surface? But overall I'm pretty happy with how the fic turned out, and it did open me up to writing more sexy fics (even tho they're SO difficult for me lmao SIGHHHH)

Thank you!

[okayto]

Kishu for the impression ask game?

[ask game link]

Okay! This is based on the manga and OG anime, because I haven't gotten to watch Tokyo Mew Mew New yet, so any new worldbuilding/details from TMMN are ignored.

First impression Ears. EARS. (Second impression: wtf are those sleeves. How does this shirt work. Why are there long ribbons.) So, basically all visual.

Impression now

He's just a funny terrible guy. Like, I want to punch him. He deserves it. But he is gleefully terrible and I also want to take one of those helpful hand grabber-claw things and pull on his ridiculously-oversized ears (I noticed that the new series makes the ears more sensible; some points of the manga and OG series had them absolutely ginormous).

He's also like, 13. So he's terrible but also in that lacking-adult-supervision way that makes you worry. Where are Alien Child Protective Services.

Favorite moment

Okay, I know this is really more Zakuro, but...

Look at the way he scrabbles for the portal!

Idea for a story

Basically, see my headcanon down there at the end? That thing. I'm probably never going to write it.

Unpopular opinion

These days? Not sure. In Ye Olden Fandom days, it was definitely not popular to ship Ichigo with her canonical love interest, Masaya, rather than Ryou or our spicy alien here.

Favorite relationship

I am pretty sure I hold the distinction of being the world's only Kisshu x Kanna Saionji shipper. Kanna is an anime-only character from episode 32, is a spoiled rich girl who considers Minto her rival, and I think that once he learns to be less of an assaulting asshole, they would be obnoxiously delightful together. Also, her dominant color is orange hair, and orange and green look nice together.

Favorite headcanon

Kisshu and co are part of a cult.

No, listen. It's a cult that has some power to it, since Deep Blue gets himself incarnated on earth and is actually a threat, but "three guys and their semiconscious boss" are not an invading force. I could kill more people by dropping a medium-sized rock off Tokyo Tower; these nerds can fly and create giant monsters and as far as I can tell, never managed to kill a single person during their genocide attempt. Even if you argue they were basically just killing time until Deep Blue woke up, that was a terrible plan to give their human opponents time to study them and get stronger.

Their small numbers and general lack of plan (and bizarre decision to start their invasion in a highly-populated modern city rather than setting up a base in a less-populated area where they could have straightened out any problems and let Deep Blue awaken without interference) make more sense if you consider all them them zealots on the fringes of their society. Disaffected young men living in a not-great place, vulnerable to the idea of doing something meaningful and active that makes them feel powerful.

Their people left earth three million years ago; for most of the population the concept of former planetary home they could retake is likely a myth, though I wouldn't be surprised if there were others looking for other places to live, or to terraform their current planet. (For reference: humans have been around far less than one million years; homo sapiens evolved around 300,000 years ago and our oldest myths are still less than 50,000 years old.) Our guys definitely found/uncovered/rediscovered something because their attempt has power behind it (and their spaceship, and whatever the alien dimension is), but in no way do they seem like the chosen heroes of an entire race.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 12: Nightmare

I remember that Wentin doesn’t feed on fear. It feeds on agreement. Specifically, agreement with it.

And the cheapest, easiest way it can get a bone deep agreement with someone is by terrifying and chasing them in a dream. They agree it’s scary and agree to run from it, and it agrees to chase them.

But other agreements work.

So, it’s not just going to be in the place I fear most, as it told me it would be. It’s going to be there when I agree that I need to see it.

But I don’t want to see Wentin for more training. Though I could probably use that. I don’t particularly like its form of training, and I’m not looking to get better at doing things myself. I’ve got plenty of time to learn new things.

I want to find Ptarmigan.

And I suspect that the local pre-eminent primordial nightmare can maybe help me get a line on the whereabouts of the Artist of Nightmares.

So what I need to figure out is where the place that I fear the most is, so I can go there and call it out.

And do I actually need to go there? Or just induce a dream about it?

And then, do I need to agree to more training for it to show up? Or can it agree with me about something else?

The fact that it feeds on agreement is really unnerving to me, by the way. There’s something extra predatory about that.

I sit alone on my roof in the middle of the day just thinking about this. Puzzling over it.

I wonder.

Is there a fear that I’ve been avoiding thinking about all this time?

Every time I’ve faced a challenge and tackled it like the dragon I think I am, without taking the time to really think about it, have I been just following my instincts? Or have I been avoiding something?

I think I’m asking myself this question because I know there’s an answer to it.

What have I been avoiding?

—

In my memories, I only have my true name now, Meghan Estragon Draconis. In my memories, it’s what my parents, my teachers, my friends, and my assailants have always called me.

The only time my deadname enters my life anymore is when some bureaucratic hiccup or a person who hasn’t been updated brings it up. And then it’s gone from my memory moments later.

Wow, my family reunions are going to be really interesting now.

—

“Hey, Meghan, you fucking queer,” Jessie spits at me, leaning into my face.

I reach up to wipe his spittle from my cheek and chin, but he grabs my hand and throws it away from me and down, my arm swinging to hit my own thigh.

“When are you gonna learn to stop existing?” he sneers. “How am I gonna teach that to you, huh? When you’re so fucking dense?”

The others laugh and cackle.

I don’t remember their names. I barely even recognize their faces. I just know I see them with Jessie wherever he goes. And I know Jessie because he’s the one who comes at me first. He’s always the one to lead the attacks. He makes sure he’s known.

In my head, I’m tearing them all apart right now. Blood everywhere. Entrails hanging from the lamps that dot the awning posts all around the school campus. Dragging bits of bodies up to the roof to be consumed so that they can bother nobody else again. An example to others. Food.

It’s such an idle daydream. Soothing because it can never be real, and the consequences will never happen. So I can visualize it with impunity.

If I was actually a dragon and did that, I’d be hunted down so fast. In order to avoid death by gunshot, trap, or any number of other things the authorities of the humans would have in store for a man-eating animal like me, I have to play a game of escalation, imagining tougher armor, a larger and larger size, sharper claws, hotter fire. And it gets ridiculous fast.

It’s best to acknowledge this is fantasy and just roll with it, and let it happen in my head so I can relax and take whatever blows are coming my way.

In the end, with every encounter like this, I become a martyr for a cause that nobody else knows or cares about. Me. And I endure it.

I squint.

It’s kind of weird and nasty that a group of boys is picking on a girl like this in broad daylight, right before school.

Isn’t there some kind of code about that? Where the girls pick on the girls, and the boys pick on the boys?

And then my gut explodes with the bruised ache of being impacted with a fist, and I double over.

—

I know now that girls sometimes do get ganged up on by boys, and the worst can happen, and the consequences of that are often infuriatingly light, if existent at all. But back then we had our illusions. Our ignorance.

But my memories are changing, too. Not just my name, but what I am.

Is that, like my headlong dive into fighting back as a dragon, part of avoiding my greatest fear?

I find myself asking, am I afraid that I’m fake? That I’m not really what I say I am? Or am I more afraid that it doesn’t actually matter what I am, they’re still going to come after me anyway?

And if it doesn’t matter what I actually am, if they treat me like I’m something I’m not and never have been, then am I effectively that thing anyway?

I’m not a man. I know I’m not. I have physiological and metaphysical proof of that now.

But I am, definitely, I think, acting like I’m afraid I’ll still be seen as one.

Because, if I’m not a man, but I’m treated like one, what’s the difference?

I don’t have the offending anatomy anymore. Despite the bullying, the presence of that part of my body actually always hurt me more.

But thinking about all this gives me memories of it, and I feel sick to my pelvis and my stomach, as if I’ve been kicked in both places.

I feel human, and weak.

Just from the memories.

And I’m rumbling in defiance of it.

I think.

I want to be seen as a person so that I have the rights and joys of a person. But I don’t want to be seen as a person, because then I can be hurt as a person by other people who don’t respect those rights.

And on this planet, person is also synonymous with human. And I was never human. I was just mistaken for one.

I’m afraid of being seen as human, of maybe really actually being human, because it means I have the responsibilities of being human. And so I follow my draconic instincts.

I think I’ve done a pretty good job of pulling back on that reflex most of the time.

But there it is.

I can try to pull that fear apart later, address it when I have the time, safety, and energy to address it, and unpack all the bullshit that’s wrapped up in it. Maybe in a counseling session or two.

Right now, though, I need to pinpoint the location, the place where that fear resides the most.

What place represents it?

What place triggers it?

What place contains all the tells and signals and feedback that informs me of how I’m seen and how I’m going to be treated?

The human face.

When I realize that, I feel like my gizzard ties itself into a knot, and I know I’m right.

—

I’m four again.

My mom has been showing me pictures of her family, including baby pictures of her and her siblings. And she’s been pointing out how their features all look so similar, and where they look different. She’s been trying to teach me something about heredity and just how to recognize people we know.

“What do I look like?” I ask.

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and look in the mirror?” she suggests.

“The mirror?” I ask.

“Yeah. You know, the mirror. It shows your reflection, so you can see yourself. You’ve used it before, silly,” she says.

I don’t remember it, actually. But it sounds pretty fun! If I can see myself in the mirror, that would be really neat.

So, I get up and run to the bathroom, and Mom follows and helps me with the stool so I can get up on it and see more clearly over the counter.

But what I see in the mirror is the monster that chases me in my dreams, and I scream.

—

“It is just so droll, Meghan,” Wentin screeches. “It’s delightful how you got here anyway, despite being so off.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Remember that dream I had where I could talk to the world’s dragons without words? I'm doing that now with Wentin.

We’re in my parents’ old bathroom, just the two of us, with its big wall sized mirror, guacamole green porcelain fixtures, and strange tiny floral print wallpaper. And I’m not a small child. I’m my grown self, as I am today. And Wentin is still in the mirror, instead of my own reflection.

I think I must have fallen asleep and in the midst of the nightmare I’ve taken control and made it lucid. Or Wentin did.

In any case, I’m calm and collected now. I feel determined. Probably because this is what I set out to do.

“It’s not the face or the mirror you fear the most, Darling,” it says. “It’s your own memories. Where we are right now. You came here to test your mirror theory and it worked anyway. I love it!”

“Oh, OK,” I say, genuinely not really caring at this point. I think Wentin is splitting hairs needlessly. But I’m here on my own business. “I need your help.”

“You're not going to question this?” it looks hurt and incredulous.

“I don't actually care about what I fear right now,” I tell it, puffing myself up. “That’s just the hoop you required for me to meet with you. And now I'm here, and paying attention to you, I don't need to think about that anymore. I need you to help me.”

“In what way?” it asks.

“Can you locate Ptarmigan? Or get her to come to us somehow?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can do that,” it replies.

“Could you try? I’m at a loss.”

“I cooouuulddd…” it says. “But I think I would need something in return, such as another training session with you.”

I sigh,”Don’t you feed on agreement? Couldn’t you just agree to help me?”

“You have it backward,” it groans. “Me agreeing with you would be like reversing the polarity. Energy would flow from me to you. You have to agree with me, in order for me to feed.”

“So, you really are predatory,” I exclaim.

“Of course I am! How could I be anything else? My dear Meghan, what do I even look like to you?” Wentin croons. “And you’ve known me for how long? How many hunts have we had? I feel disappointed.”

“I don’t think I’m OK with you,” I find myself stating.

“I’ve never asked you to be.”

“That’s… not reassuring.”

“Oh, come now. Have I not taught you well? Do you not have the reflexes you’ve needed to survive? Are you not currently free of Säure’s stomach acids? Or have I become mistaken as we speak?”

“Don’t do that.” I feel almost like I’m a different person when my thoughts are unimpeded by the need to try to remember English, and then to type it. I feel like I’m in more control, and it’s easier for my impatience with Wentin to express itself. “What are you trying to do by saying that?”

“I’d like to make you run, to flee,” it answers. “Agree to flee and we may yet find your Ptarmigan.”

I huff and sit down on my haunches. And then I lift my left foreclaw and nibble at it, pretending to remove remaining flecks of my last shed.

“You are no fun.”

“Wentin,” I say, looking back up at it. “Can we make a different agreement this time? Please?”

“I’ve just told you that I cannot work that way,” it says. “It is a matter of my own survival.”

The more that I listen to it, the less sympathy I have for this thing, even if it did drive me to realize some important things about myself. Even if it did attack Säure. And when I think back on the roles it’s played in my life, from my childhood nightmares to the early shenanigans and doubts about my Discord server and the network I was building there, I am seeing it as nothing but a force of chaos driven by its own hunger.

What’s the difference between feeding on coerced agreement and feeding on fear? In practicality, it’s the same thing.

Should I even bargain with Wentin, as I was prepared to do? To aim it at Säure again? 

Because that is really what I was intending here. I was going to tell Wentin that it could afford a small loss by agreeing with me in order to set up Säure for a long string of recurring nightmares it could milk for ages.

And even though Säure personally hasn’t done me all that much harm, I could write an entire book about why he still deserves it. Why it would be just a tiny portion of the coercion his weight as a billionaire has imposed on the world. Heck, even just locally. And I’m not even the most well equipped person to write that. I’m pretty sure there’s an independent library full of books covering that theory and history on the corner of Maple and Terrace, right here in Fairport.

But do I really want to be the one that wields this weapon?

I feel like in my journaling, I really haven’t made the case for it. Or even for fighting the enemy I’m facing. I feel like I’ve been leaning on the case of self defense, preventative measures, icky feelings, slim evidence that he’s a white supremacist, and just the fact that he’s a billionaire.

And, when I originally set out to find Ptarmigan to get her help, I really wasn’t anticipating that I’d be mulling the ethics of doing business with Wentin. But here I am.

I’m tempted, but repulsed while sitting in the clarity of just having turned a nightmare into something lucid.

Then I have a weird thought. An impulse turned into an idea. And it’s so compelling to me that I can’t help but lean well into it.

“Wentin,” I say.

“Yes?” it squeals with eager anticipation.

“Run,” I tell it.

“What?”

I rise up and put my claws on the bathroom countertop and then sink them into the formica and wood, letting the materials creak with the slow increase in pressure I apply. And I lean forward and open my mouth, breathing into my fire sacks as I lean toward the mirror, both eyes locked on Wentin’s.

“You’re a kind of bullshit,” say. “And as Rhoda’s queen I have been imbued with the power to be done with bullshit. Run.”

It backs up a couple of short steps, head turned slightly sideways, “You can’t do this.”

“Yes I can. You’ve scared me into lucidity, and now I’m in control,” I tell it.

“You are.”

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Flee.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I will roast you and eat you in pieces.”

And it bolts.

And that’s when the hunt begins, with the shattering of glass and the creaking of the sudden dark woods of my old nightmares that begin to surround us.

Wentin’s tufted tail dances just before my nose as I huff and gallop through the snow and mud, jaw cracked open to catch the air as I run through it.

—

Maybe I ultimately failed at my goal to avoid using coercion in my quest to quell Säure.

By instilling terror into Wentin and chasing it, I’ve only turned things around, and done what it’s been doing to me.

But it feels right.

And I’m pretty sure it’s going to get the attention of Ptarmigan, with a nightmare experiencing a nightmare.

Not that there’ve never been other people to do this with nightmares turned lucid. I’m sure it’s an ancient tradition, older than civilization. Wentin’s probably experienced this before, itself. It sure does know how to flee.

But for a while I was the center of Ptarmigan’s attention, being the original focal point of Rhoda’s storm. And I’m wagering that maybe I still have at least some of it.

—

Wentin knows what I’m doing, and it’s been through this before on both sides. It knows how to turn this around. It even cheered me when I turned it around the last time.

But it keeps running. Effortless running through the black trunks of the winter forest, its tail always just out of reach.

It told me that I need to agree with it, but it keeps running.

The chase goes on, and it’s not working.

Ptarmigan is nowhere to be seen.

I’m beginning to question myself and what I’m doing, and I guess I slow down to do it.

Wentin gets further and further away.

And when I notice this, I stop. I actually feel kind of tired, despite the fact that it’s a dream under my control.

I’m not really sure what I should do, and I’m considering waking up, when Wentin stops itself and turns to look at me.

It’s panting.

Its open mouth and showing of teeth is a threat and a challenge, but its relaxed posture and moderately sized pupils tell me it is comfortable where it is and with our relationship. The panting is for its breath, mostly. Heat regulation and oxygen intake, if that even matters in this dream world.

And then, when it sees me watching, its eyes dilate and its mouth closes for a moment. And then it’s bowing. Shoulders down, haunches high, forelegs out front, it yips and bounces. First to its left, then to its right, like a dog excited to catch a ball.

“Chase me!” it calls without sound, and then bounces a few steps further away.

Then it scampers forward and repeats the dance.

The yip becomes a bark and a whine.

I get it.

Now if I chase it, I’m agreeing with it, and it gets what it needs. And then, whatever it does, whether it keeps running, or drops to the ground in resignation and exhaustion, or turns to fight me, if I react accordingly, I am still agreeing with it.

And I could ignore it. I could refuse. I could turn it around again somehow, do the opposite of what it’s asking of me. But I’ve already done that.

This could go on forever, back and forth.

I could just wake up and be done with this dream. But then, later, when I fall asleep or delve into my memories to look at my old face again, Wentin could be waiting for me to start this all over. It also knows how to find me in the waking world. A lot of people do.

There’s no real end to it. There never was. We’ve always been chasing each other.

But this time, it has offered me a bargain.

If I agree with it today, it will try to lead me to Ptarmigan.

I imitate its bow, like a playful wolf reciprocating, and it jerks and twitches and jumps away.

And we’re off again, flying through the woods, propelled by claws in the snow.

And Wentin’s spooky whistling fills the air with glee.

[safety-writes-noms]

AU Ask!

Have you seen any of the Drider!Miguel fanart? I love that concept as an AU for him since it's basically just a reimagining of him being 50% spider in a much more visually striking way.

Any thoughts on Drider versions of Miguel and/or other Spiderpeople? What spiders would you imagine for the spider-half of their bodies? (If you don't like spiders, feel free to ignore this part - or this whole ask - LOL!)

Hi moot!! :D I haven’t seen any of the fan art actually :( very sad but I’ve done some research and wow, I love the idea of Miguel being a drider.

I’d like to think that his lower body would be some sort of mix between a wolf spider or tarantula? Maybe? And it also being a striking dark-ish blue with red markings patterned on his legs and abdomen. Or a black widow, but only the females have that red hourglass marking so idk.

I was originally going to go with wolf spider for the bottom half but then I saw that they don’t make webs since they hunt and I kinda liked the thought of Miguel lounging around on a giant web doing his usual monitoring of his society so I just thought it would be fine to make him a mix n match of a bunch of different spiders since it kinda fits with his origin in the comics.

(I’m deathly afraid of all and any spiders so :D tried my best to avoid looking too much at them on google.) since he’s physically half spider now he’s going to be a whole lot bigger. Obviously. He’s already huge without the spider half but with? That man is massive and completely more in tune with his spider side. He kinda has to be since he’s spider from the lower half down.

for something so huge he’s disturbingly quiet. Eight legs proves for insane mobility and stealth. He’s more balanced than a four wheeler on concrete and probably stronger than one too. The horror element is strong in this one.

I feel like he might be a bit more instinct driven when it comes to people he cares deeply about. They’re like a constant stream of secondary thoughts underlying his usual human rationale. A quiet blip of hey, some of the kids are injured, you need to bundle them up and store them away or Peter is trusting mayday to us, keep her safe always, she’s going to fall, why did he give her webshooters, hold her close etc. it’s basically a very mixed muddle of semi organized human and spider instincts/thoughts threading together to form coherent words in his head. Sometimes one side is more in control than the other. It just depends.

since Miguel really doesn’t like being Spider-Man in the comics and also probably the movie, he probably hates being half spider too. He hates being inhuman, feeling like some sort of monstrous being who’s made for nothing but the lowest form of sentience and bloodshed. His fangs don’t retract like they do in the movie, his claws are longer and sharper, but he still tries his absolute best to seem human to people. Poor guy can’t catch a break.

he gets kinda clingy in certain times of the month when his spider instincts start going rampant with the need of being close as possible to whoever he’s currently fixated on. Or multiple people. And the fixatipn never goes away, it just gets a little more easy to ignore during other times. Any of the spider kids or his closest second hands (Peter, Jess, etc) are all up for grabs in his mind. It’s even worse if he knows one of them are hurt or emotionally troubled. To his spidery side, he’s the main protector, he’s the one who’s meant to make sure everyone’s still alive, still in one piece. After all, his precious spiders are… not as spidery as him. They don’t have the necessary amount of limbs, they’re much smaller than him, they don’t even have claws like him! who’s going to protect them if he’s not there?

When he’s in that kind of mindset he’s not really too bothered by the idea of nomming them either. After all, he’s just making sure they’re safe and warm, tucked away in his belly securely. And what other place is safest in the world than with him? Besides, some parts of his human side agree too. They’ve already had one precious spider slip out of their grasp, disintegrating into thin air so… y’know, can’t have that happen again. He’s calmer when he knows where they are constantly. He’s like a helicopter parent. Except ten times bigger and grumpier. But yeah. Any spider that manages to worm their way into his heart will inevitably land under the umbrella that is the mess of his protective instincts. I’m so sorry for not doing the second part of ur ask 😭 I hate spiders a bunch and I don’t really want to research more of them so I can find which ones would match each spider person. Maybe a black widow for miles since they’re usually red and black?

[marcusoseman99]

Songs of the isle pt 51

Cassandra: I need to get answers out of Hermes

*Hermas appears at the gate with a gust of wind he starts to talk to a Villager that is about to go through the Janus gate with a cart of miscellaneous items, Cassandra sees this and starts to slink closer avoiding visual contact by going from tree to tree*

Hermes: Where is everyone in the Village.

Villager: Demi’s Birthday is today we are all celebrating at the Corycian cave.

Cassandra: Dionysus was always kinder than most gods still doesn’t change what he is.

Hermes: Gods must have slipped my mind I’ll go there and tell them to have a good birthday.

Villager: Very good but we were all told by Lord Dionysus to tell you if you were around, to get someone called “Reegan” and bring them to the celebration.

Cassandra: Demi and Reegan doesn't matter Hermes will be there and i havent crashed a party in a while not since Heracles party.

Hermes: Of course tell lord Dionysus I will be there shortly *sigh* with Reegan.

Villager: Very well my lord.

*Hermes dashes away almost knocking down the Villager then Cassandra darts through the sky into the back of the cart the Villager was transporting*

Cassandra: Glad my wings haven’t changed too.

*The scene returns to Apollo and Vick in the cave, they are walking away from a table where Villagers are sorting food and glass bottles*

Villagers at the table: HEY DID YOU TWO TAKE ANYTHING WE ARE MISSING TWO BOTTLES OVER HERE.

Apollo: Must have been the wind.

*Apollo says this without turning to face them then starts to walk faster with Vick by his side, then we can see that he has a bottle in his jacket*

Vick: God he is a jackass but that was fun- WAIT HOLY SHIT, is he actually smiling at something without it yknow hurting me Physically or emotionally.

Apollo: What the fuck are you staring at?

Vick: Your ugly thief face.

Apollo: You have such a way with words.

*Vick picks the bottle out of his jacket pocket and starts walking forward while quickly opening it and taking a drink, before Vick can get a real drink Apollo snatches the bottle and starts chugging it.

As he runs away with the bottle Vick starts running after him, then as Apollo stops running and turns back to Vick with the bottle blocking his view of Vick it shows that time has passed with the cave filled with people hanging out and dancing while the muses perform*

Apollo: Fuck that happened faster than usually.

Voices: This is a waste of our time you must give us control.

Apollo: What sorry I am going through a tunnel, and I am *buzz* losing *buzz*.

Vick: You are you talking to?

Apollo: The voices yknow.

Vick: *laughs* Shut up let’s go and see Dionysus.

Apollo: Sound.

*They both go through the crowds together stopping at random points to drink and meet different villagers and other people like, Vick bumping into a frog man and axolotl woman who are dancing together.

While Apollo sees a Man in an all-white suit his eyes completely white too, that man is talking to a beautiful woman in a short black dress, but her eyes are a sickly yellow and red while her hands have bird claws on them*

Vick: Dude was that an axolotl person…. What the fuck.

Apollo: That’s probably the most normal thing here.

Vick: What about those people that were staring you down?

Apollo: Just a succubus and a bitch tier angel.

Vick: Angels and demons are real?!?

Apollo: How are you still surprised by this stuff.

Vick: Eh…fair actually.

*As they go further to the stage the angel and demon call out*

Angel: I know you.

Apollo: Oh my god do you wanna an autograph?

Angel: *fake laugh* No but you are the one that fought Archangel Micheal, aren’t you?

Apollo: Yeah we tussled.

Vick: *whispering* pfft gay.

 Angel: He nearly killed you.

Apollo: I mean I am just talking as someone that was actually there, definitely not an expert but I thought you angels were oh I don’t know, not glorified chickens.

Angel: I’ll have your filthy fucking tongue ripped out of your heretic mouth.

Demon: Hell id pay to watch that.

Apollo: And id love to watch you try but yknow that Dions parties are neutral ground, aka you can do fuck all apart from look like a tit.

Demon: I like the funny ones I might just have to visit you in your dreams.

Apollo: I would but I don’t want to die because I fucked a succubus a few too many times.

 *The Demon smiled twirling her drink leaning into the angel*

Demon: Oh I love when they think they won’t crumble at the very thought of me, now holy man would you like to exploit this neutral ground.

*Apollo and Vick smile at the very obvious flirty as the angel has to force himself to keep starting at Apollo*

Angel: This is not the end of this we will find you.

Apollo: Coool let’s go Vick this virgins gonna die.

Vick: *mouthing* What the fuck.

*Before they can get backstage this time Hermes runs in front of them at supernatural speeds*

Apollo: MONTHER- *sighs* I am going to drop you next time.

Hermes: *laughs* Glad you are alive, and I just came here to drop this off.

*Hermes Steps back and Reegan appears in front of them*

Reegan: How the fuck did I get here.

Hermes: Tell my brother that I can only hold him tonight no longer.

Vick: Oh my god I thought he couldn’t leave?

Hermes: I can bend the curse a bit but he will get dragged back regardless, also who are you?

Apollo: This is the human hunter Vick and How are you feeling dude?

Reegan: Ready to party.

Apollo: That’s my ghost.

*Apollo, Vick and Reegan head backstage seeing the Villagers running around preparing lights, sound and basically everything, they both head over to Dion and Demi who are watching the muses preform together*

Vick: I have always wanted to work backstage like this doing the lights and shit.

Reegan: Aww nice.

Apollo: I don’t see it.

Vick: Really?

Apollo: Yeah you are more of a muppet.

*Apollo laughs before he can finish his sentence Vick kicks him in the shin*

[splinteredthoughts]

Splinter!

I saw the Bendy oc and wanted to ask if you had any other ocs you would want to share!

and feel free to use this ask to just fully go for it with talking bout them too!

Ooooooo!

Dragon you have no idea how excited I am to answer this!!

I’m gonna focus on a couple of ocs I made in the past year. Otherwise I’d be answering this all day. This is gonna be a loooong one, and I’m going to add on to it later with more ocs, so the rest is under the cut.

This is a bunch of guys I made based on the five senses! I also slotted them into the five-man-band structure because I love that trope SO much (I could make a whole other post talking about that).

On the far left is Hearing or Sound (I haven't come up with names for them, so I just call them based on what sense they are). They're the smart guy of the group. Sound is a wiz with technology and is able to process and catalogue a LOT of information all at once. Their ears kinda reminded me of an alien, so I gave them the ability to float. Sound is kinda cocky, but they are always thinking five steps ahead, so they have some right to be. The darker parts of their body are actually armor/clothes, they also visually differentiate them from the rest of the group.

On the far right is Taste. He is dripping with confidence and charisma, which is fitting since he is the leader. Taste is bold and brash, often crashing into situations and smooth-talking his way out of them. Although his main sense is taste, he rarely sticks out his tongue. This is because his tongue can taste the air like a snake, and the amount of sensory information would overwhelm him, so he focuses more on negotiation since he is the only member of the team who can speak. Taste actually prefers to talk his way out of conflicts, even though he's pretty good in a fight (look at those claws!)

Hiding behind everyone is Sight, the lancer to Taste's leader. While taste is confident, Sight is quite the scaredy-cat, very paranoid and cautious. This is because while she can do the best recon and information gathering, she is very vulnerable to people sneaking up behind her since she has no secondary sense to watch with. Because she is able to see, she is also often the first to notice when something is wrong with one of the other members, and she cares a LOT about them. Sight and Sound make the best pair mission-wise since they can communicate with each other fairly easily and are more patient than a lot of the others.

In the back on the right is Touch. They are the heart of the group. Touch has five fingers instead of the normal three that everyone else has, and the four whiskers or feelers on their face are very sensitive and help them to feel changes on temperature and air current to more accurately guide themselves around. Touch and Sight get along very well. They have a mutual understanding of the other’s vulnerability and can sit together in silence for hours. Touch has a scar that runs down their spine and branches out like the nervous system. They are the most vulnerable of the group and barely ever leave the base, which is just fine with Touch. Everyone in the group comes to them for comfort, and Touch cares for them. They are an extremely gentle person.

Last, but certainly not least, right in front of the group is Smell. He is the big guy of the group, both is size and in physical strength. He lost his arms years ago, which makes him tend to move in a more animalistic way (he is SO fun to draw! My favorite, in fact). Before the group formed, he and Touch lived in the same house. They both rarely went out, since their limited senses made them feel uncomfortable outside of a familiar environment. Smell is very protective of the whole group, but especially of Touch. Physically unable to talk or sign, Smell has a hard time communicating with any of the group, but Touch and Sight can always calm him down if something really gets to him. Smell and Taste clash a lot, since they both crash ahead without thinking and get on each other’s nerves.

Alright! I think that’s everything! I had SO much fun talking about my guys here (this is my second time typing it up cause Tumblr ate my answer before T-T). I’ll definitely be making posts about these and other ocs in the future!

[nomolosk]

Miss Priss, being a cat, stares at me with an expectant expression. Then she gets up and prances over to me, tail in the air, winding herself around my legs.

"Mreow? Mreow?" she says, for all the world as if she was asking whether or not I saw that. I get the feeling this has been happening for a while.

That night I lie awake, very aware of the fact that Miss Priss is sleeping next to me. I wonder whether I've actually slept through any physics-altering events involving my shelter cat. The idea is concerning. And I can't get it out of my mind.

The next day, after work, I go to my local tech store and buy a variety of security cameras- some that I can monitor from my phone, as well as some that are static and record only onto a physical device. Why the variety? Well... I know absolutely nothing about this event. I don't know what causes it, who's behind it, whether or not it's dangerous to me or my cat, whether or not it can be recorded visually and/or audibly, and whether or not it will mess with electronics. Although, none of my electronics have been acting up, so I can probably rule that out.

But I do want to know more about what's happening. Specifically, when it's happening, whether it happens often, and whether or not I need to worry about some physics altering being from beyond reality potentially stealing my cat.

I like my cat. She is the sweetest.

Anyway. I set up the cameras, and for the next week, I monitor them closely.

As it happens, the physics altering event which involves someone or something reaching through a tear in reality to pet my cat can, in fact, be recorded... and it happens at least three to five times a day, in multiple rooms of the house- although, curiously, never in my bedroom.

I'll admit, I don't quite know how to feel about that. I decide to continue monitoring the situation.

Another week goes by. I begin to notice that it's very rarely the same hand that pets Miss Priss. Sometimes the hand is green, or blue, or sort of a washed-out beige. Sometimes it's a tentacle. Once it was something like a giant lobster claw (not really, but it's the best analogue I can think of at the moment). I almost rushed home when I got that alert on my home, sure that I would have to get Miss Priss the emergency vet... but fortunately, the claw didn't do anything but hold the tear open while a couple of segmented antennae reached through to gently brush through the fur of her back. Miss Priss sniffed them and tried to playfully bat at the antennae, resulting in them teasing her for a moment before retreating. Apparently interdimensional beings enjoy that as much as most humans. Go figure.

I decide I can't let this go on without discovering more about it. What are these beings' intentions? What do they gain? ... Okay, maybe that's a stupid question. Petting a cat, after all, is mostly it's own reward. But still. I want to know- this is my cat we're talking about after all.

After thinking about it for a while, I decide to try something. I go to the pet store and buy the largest tag I can find, then have them engrave it in-store with a custom design: a simple, large question mark. When I get home, I add it to Miss Priss' collar.

I eagerly watch my phone the next day, barely present enough to get my work halfway done. She only gets pets twice, and neither of the 'hands' takes any notice of the new tag on her collar. The next day is the same, but on the third day I see a blue hand pause for a moment on it's way back, then reach out to touch the new tag, tilting and angling it as if trying to get a better look. Then it drops the tag and disappears.

The rip closes. Nothing else happens. There are two more petting events that day, but there's no further reaction to the tag.

The next day, a rip opens up fairly early in the morning- almost as soon as I get to my office, in fact. I eagerly pull up the live footage- a blue hand comes through, strokes Miss Priss a couple of times, and then hesitates. It draws back, but the rip stays open. The hand comes back and deposits something small, flat, and white on the floor. From the camera's angle, I can't tell what it is, but it seems to be blank.

I fake being sick and go straight home. When I get there, Miss Priss meets me at the door, meowing and purring happily to see me. I fetch her a treat from the kitchen cupboard and go over to the small white thing on my living room floor, my cat on my heels.

I give Miss Priss her treat and crouch over it- it looks remarkably like a business card, but square. Miss Priss notices my preoccupation and goes over to sniff it. Nothing happens and she loses interest, moseying over to the window and hopping up on her cat tower there.

I think about picking the card up. I almost do, but then I think better of it and go get a pair of rubber gloves from the cleaning caddy under the kitchen sink. I don't really think the beings would intentionally try to harm me, but it's really better to be safe.

Once my hands are gloved I pick up the card and turn it over. My eyebrows rise high. On the other side is a very familiar symbol- a red square with rounded corners, in the center of which is a white, isosceles triangle pointing to the right.

It takes me a day or two, but I think I figure out what it means. I go back to the pet store and get another tag made. This time the design is two circles and two X. Inside the first circle is a stylized image of a hand petting a cat on the back. Inside the second is a stylized image of a hand petting a cat on the belly. The first X is superimposed on a stylized image of a hand holding a cat up off the floor. The second X is superimposed on a stylized image of a hand offering a cat food.

I hope these images convey that I am alright with the beings petting my cat, but that I would prefer that they not pick her up or feed her.

I keep a close eye on the cameras, and I'm glad to see that most of the beings are respecting my wishes, although some of them do try to push boundaries by attempting to pick her up or offering her weird looking things that I assume must be something they think she can eat. Miss Priss lives up to her name and doesn't allow these familiarities.

Over the next couple of weeks, I notice that the incidences of my cat getting pets while I'm away from home increase rapidly.

Apparently, my cat has gone viral on the interdimensional web.

There’s suddenly a tear in the fabric of reality. A hand stretches through and gives your kitty a pat on the head, then retreats through the hole again. The tear closes. The cat realizes you saw everything.

[tobi-smp]

*gourger crawls my way into your inbox* so you like the demon boyo yes-

Well then! Allow me to give you a stage by stage walk through of my half-asleep thought process behind his various phases, all of which were hastily doodled into MS Paint just a mere 20ish minutes before I was forced to Go To Work and Be An Adult and Do My Job.

ahem

Stage 1: A boy. In this stage, c!Tommy is at his default state as a lil(read: 6'3 feet) tall teen boy with angelic features. Soft bluish wings, glowing eyes, golden halo, general holy aura, you get the idea. He's a very typical angelinnit with general chommy cute-isms all across the board. he's the best! what a guy

Stage 2: A boy but something's Off As noted in my very accurate very much not scuffed timeline graphic, this stage doesn't differ too heavily from the first. There are only 2 differences: Tommy's height and the desaturation of his colors. He's pale. His hair begins to thin. The feathers start to dark and droop on his wings, and the normally calm, melodic hum of his halo takes on more of a white noise-esque buzz. He grows a bit. It's fine, he's a Big Man, it's normal to have a little growth spurt from time to time. Oh yeah. and horns.

that is when we move on to when things start to get Maybe A Bit Worse.

Stage 3: Golden hair turns to muted white. He's twice as tall and the seams of his cardigan start to tear each time he moves. He has a tail and long, deep crimson horns. His hair is thin and falls in paler yet paler strands after being left to grow out for so long. This is likely the stage he reached around the midpoint of exile. He probably didn't stay too close to the Prime Log bell too often after cDream killed Mushroom Henry. The beach party incident probably didn't help either. Even the most devote can suffer from shaken faith...

This is when his eyes start to shift in color. In exile they were lifeless blue-gray, but here they take on a greenish tone. Sadly it isn't a green that's particularly lush or lively. It's more oily. A leaking, vacant smear.

He's starting to lose a few darkly colored feathers.

Stage 4: Oh. Oh no. It'll surprise you to know he's never used those sickle claws. He's always been careful when they get that way. He moves slowly and carefully and keeps his head low so as to fit through doors. His feathers are all gone and what's left is leathery black. There's a sharpened edge to the tip of his tail, but he's never used that, either.

His halo has gone completely dark. It doesn't buzz. It doesn't make a sound. It gives off a garbled, staticy roar whenever something sets him off. But otherwise he's dead silent.

Stage 5: I couldn't fit this one in visually. But! In my mind, I imagine the best term to describe it would be "bloated", as this stage is just before that last bit of holy influence wears off and releases the fully formed demonic essence. It's the last safety strap, as it were. Tommy in this stage is a walking anxiety-riddled PTSD addled bundle of demonic C4, and oh lordy, does he act like it. Boy is shaky. He curls up into the nearest corner and rocks there while dark patches pulse under his skin and his wings stretch without him moving them. It is painful. Big owie.

and finally...

Stage 6: Tommy's body is gone. There's just shadow, dark, and shifting, writhing ink. His form is amorphous and takes the generally qualities of a gaseous blob, one that has the vague shape of horns that frame a now furious red halo. Sometimes he has a hint of his actual face. But most of the time, it's just a jagged mouth and two large eyes that are on the front of his body's large "head".

In this form, Tommy's voice takes on a layered quality. It sounds like it comes from everywhere. Like there are multiple throats through which he cries and screams. And of course he screams, because having your body unravel like this causes so, SO much fucking pain. You'd thrash around violently too if your whole physical form just exploded!

Each time he reaches this stage, the darkness erupts out as he essentially explodes. However. It's important to note that the explosion itself never hits people nearby it they are those Tommy cares about. It avoids them seemingly without him evening meaning for it to, the dark banes of energy swirling around Tubbo and Ranboo and weaving their ways harmless past Wilbur, Sam, Quackity, etc.

And Dream. It doesn't hit him either when Tommy transforms inside the prison. Hm. How very, very interesting :)

Context for the au ! [Link 1, Link 2]

[smallestapplin]

(Finished up the little fluff dabble, as Fun as Emmet finding little hybrid Lopunny would be, I’m garbage at writing Canon characters so I think I’ll hold on to my idea of that first meeting and send it to you as a request when your requests are open again~ hint hint tho, ingo was keeping him as much a secret from you and he was keeping you from Emmet.)

You sit perched on a low branch of a tree, behind the large hybrid alpha Zoroark of all things that had started to court you. It was well… admittedly a rocky start; first with the whole dropping a dead Stantler at the entrance of your burrow that scared you to screaming thinking it was a threat (it wasn’t apparently that was how carnivorous hybrids showed interest in a potential mate), then the scenting something you had to kinda get use to as… well usually as a small herbivore the last thing you wanted was a strong smell on you and lastly thee um… well the size difference. You were literally half his height him somewhere around ten feet and yourself around five.

It wasn’t an impossible arrangement though, actually with a bit of communication things were going really well, he went out of his way now to bring you fruit and berries from deeper in the territory, you’d found out with his scenting not only did it hide your scent from potential predators but it also scared the buggers off long before they got into visual ranges making you feel all the safer in your little peaceful corner and finally well the size you were learning to work around.

Sat up high so you could reach his head well Ingo was sitting you introduced the much larger hybrid to a form of bonding common to Lopunny hybrids. Grooming, with great care blunted but hardened claws meant for digging rather then hunting worked starting at the nape of Ingo’s neck, moving up towards his scalp, gently finger combing his silver white hair until from root to tip you could run your fingers through the silky strands without hitting a knot, from there you softly started to gather the strands and tied them up in a bun. You rather liked the longer style buuut Ingo rather seemed intent on cutting it back to a ‘professional’ style whatever that meant.

teasingly well going back over your work you scratched behind his ears making him yip and go red despite how his tail took off. It was cute and despite the slight pout he didn’t stop you, giving you alllll the free reign you needed to start playing with his puppy soft ears, resting your head between them you reach up and gently take one between to fingers to stroke softly, it really doesn’t take much for you to notice him squirm from a mix of his shyness and a little embarrassment. To try and bring him back from it you puff a little air at the tip of his ear making it flick well he gave an annoyed bark from the sudden switch in teasing.

“That doesn’t feel like grooming!” he huffed it still always surprised you how loud he was… even when he was seemingly trying to be quiet.

You hum tilting your head and sucking your lips before stopping after a soft ‘pop’ that makes both his ears flick “really?” you ask innocently “are you sure? Maybe you’re just not use to how a Lopunny grooms hair.”

And then you start on an ear again this time nipping the end to hold between your lips to set him off a bit more.

It worked as he seemed to have enough of the teasing and all at once he was wrapping an arm around your torso and pulled you off the branch and into his lap, all the while you giggled and play squirmed like you planned to zip away.

He tightened his hold and gave a growl of warning, his tail still betraying him though as the happy wag waved any true threat.

“oh, well in that case dear let me return the favor then!” He gave his version of a smile that silly little kitty like smile were somehow his mouth still mostly stayed a frown but the ends managed to curl up slightly like a wonky W.

Then he shifted his hold so both of his large hands could cup your face, one was used to keep your head still well the other moved to one of your very long lopped ears which he began to pet or stroke or rub between two fingers, it felt nice, the same way a back rub or head pat did, but you’d damned if you planned to take the payback without a fight!

You wiggled and squeaked and more then once had to get him to switch holds so you couldn’t manage to wiggle away from him to start another playful game of chase. Eventually he had to give up on your ears despite how much he enjoyed the texture or how they were long enough he could loop them around and through fingers.

Your escape attempts where simply to much and he was forced to scoop you up all at once pinning your legs to his torsos but allowing you to sit on an arm and rest your hands on his shoulders so you could lean forward and rest your forehead to his in a tender moment before he took the opportunity to steal a kiss.

You allowed the one to your lips but you’re quick as ever to cradle both hands against the back of his jawline slowly curling and unfurling the digits to give him a soft scratch before peppering his face in kisses, if he’d had freckles he’d have sworn you were attempting to kiss each individual one, he’d have let you too but he fumbled with being the center of attention to long and would always nip back to make sure you got your fair share.

This time it started with a soft nip to your chin, which turned to a kiss along your jaw line and down your neck until he got to just above your collarbone and swallowed hard before opening his mouth and resting his teeth where he new a bond mark should go.

It reminded you of one more thing, the marks, herbivores well most small prey types didn’t mark each other it seemed to be another predatory thing and a bit risky for you to allow.

But you couldn’t help but look over him, it had been a few months and by far he was the best partner you’d ever had attempt to court you. He was kind and thoughtful, willing to listen well not being a complete doormat.

And so so gentle, he could so easily fold you in half or pin you down and just force things to go at his own pace bit he didn’t he never did, even just now he let you squirm and laugh and have your fun instead of just ending it to prove a point and do what he wanted.

He was a good man and you trusted him from the bottom of your heart “Go ahead.” You whispered softly.

“I want to be with you, I know you’ll take the best care of me and we’ll be happy together.”

And just like that there was a swift sharp pain to your shoulder… but surprisingly not as lasting as you expected as he ran his tongue over the fresh mark cleaning it up.

You’d give a squeak as he got up, shifting his hold so you where more succure but never moving his head from your shoulder. You’d realize quickly he was walking to the nearest cave, over your courting period he’d started to make when like a over night area, so he could stay or visit longer. Now though as you asked he remarked, it was better to keep you close until the mark healed over… that and well it was best he made sure it stuck.

You wonder momentarily if maybe you’d bitten off more then you could chew but the love struck look in his eyes turns you to putty all to quickly.

Bitty

HOW DO I MAKE A BELOVED LIST CAUSE I HAVE A FEELING-

Ingo in general is such a sweet perfect partner.

Sure you maybe a fancy bulge inspector

He just loves and adores you and is determined to show you just how much you mean to him, in anyway possible.

The combining of two different courtships has me melting.

This inhumanly large man just treating you like a deity, and showering you with love.

You’re his sweet tiny mate, he loves you and wants you safe.