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dduane · 18 days

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I love your young wizards books! There’s an article in the NYTs about “plumes of steam” floating up from the belly of Manhattan and thanks to YW, I know it’s just dragons. ❤️

Thank you!

...And yeah, dragons, absolutely. :) (...Well, these guys, anyway.)

Via the Errantry Concordance: the Fireworm (Lanthanodrax speleotraxis)1

(Also the occasionally occuring “sport” or hypotrophic subspecies, L. speleotraxis ignigastris.) The colloquial name is identical with that used for the marine bristleworm Hermodice carunculata, but the two species otherwise have nothing to do with one another.

The wizardly fireworm is a serious competitor for the title of “North American fauna species that has had its evolution most seriously interfered with by wizardry.”

The original species — just another small reptile, to start with, a member of the suborder Lacertilla and a distant relative of the geckos — was repeatedly mutated by the wizards caught up in the events surrounding the final fate of Afallonë. The most comprehensive change to their structure happened as a side effect of the great aphthonic intervention, the wizardry intended to save as much as possible of the unique Atlantean flora and fauna from the impending destruction of the First Continent. The rafting wizardry which was meant to simply transport a number of species to the newer continents went wrong during the final crisis in many important ways, and rampant wizardry leakage contaminated and disrupted the genetic structures of many of the creatures involved. The fireworm, already susceptible to such disruption because of previous genetic manipulation, suffered far more of it during the transport to the early versions of North America and Europe than any other creature involved in the ancient rafting project.

In Europe and Asia, the fireworm had fewer natural enemies, and grew and changed in ways which would otherwise have been impossible. Further mutations due to the accumulation of wizardly overlays in the more populated parts of Europe led to the rise of the offshoot species Draco, the “true dragons” which became famous in Europe’s medieval period for being killed by knights. (It should be made clear that most of these casualties were members of the species Draco ectenis, the lindworm or wingless dragon, an omnivore by habit and cave-dweller by preference. Even the most heavily armored knights had a terrible batting average against Draco draco europaeis, the cliff-dwelling, strictly carnivorous winged dragon, which regarded knights merely as a somewhat-seasonal comestible delicacy with a crunchy outside and a yummy inside.)

But in North America, where many “rafted” species with wizardly components survived for the next few millennia after the fall of Atlantis, the fireworm kept for some time its original Atlantean form — that of a small carnivorous reptile with a tendency to burp flammable gas as a defense mechanism when frightened or upset. (No carbon-based dragon, true or false, breathes fire: but even the smallest ones can ignite it on exhalation in one of a number of ways, usually involving chemical or enzymatic reactions.)

However, unfortunately for the fireworm, its main Atlantean natural enemy the “king-weasel” (Macrogulo gulo, long extinct and survived only by its far less assertive “family” relative Gulo gulo, the wolverine) succeeded in establishing itself in North America as it had not been able to do in Europe because of the presence of the great crested cockatrice (Cerastus baseliensis) or northern cockatrice (Cerastus scotodasos). The king-weasel nearly succeeded in exterminating the fireworm. Only the smallest members of the family survived by changing their normal above-ground habitats for an underground lifestyle into which the king-weasels would not follow them.

After some millennia spent living and rebuilding their gene pools in the natural caves of the East, the fireworms moved into the manufactured caves and underground spaces of the great East Coast and Midwest cities. (No fireworm species live west of the Rockies. Possibly due to uncomfortable genetic memories secondary to the fall of Afallonë, they will not stay in earthquake-active zones.) Regardless of what ConEd tells you, fireworms are the proximate cause of the steam New Yorkers see coming up from under the streets in all weathers — the more steam, the larger the fireworm.

They are some of the most exothermic of all Earth-based life forms, when well-fed, and the very biggest ones can prosper down in the tunnels in even the coldest weather. When exposed to further wizardry leakage, as sometimes happens in the neighborhood of worldgate complexes, the oldest and most experienced fireworms can over time acquire some telepathic and empathic abilities.2 This enables them to force the smaller fireworms, and even members of some other species, to do their will — shepherding food into their ambit, or otherwise serving their needs. For this reason, smart wizards stay out of places where the older and larger fireworms can be found, unless the needs of errantry drive them there.

Fireworms are also the ultimate source of all the stories about “alligators in the sewers.” There is a certain ironic humor to this, as wizards know there wouldn’t be nearly so many stories if the things in the sewers were only alligators.

(See also: Eldest, the: Twelve, Song of the.) (SYWTBAW)

1The taxonomy of the western European fireworm is somewhat confused. The Bestiarium Ignotum classified the fireworm as Lanthanotrops micrognotus, but this did not take into account the internal differences between the Lanthanotrops and Lanthanodrax families — possibly understandable, since Linnaeus was unable to find a dead specimen to dissect, and trapping a live one was at that point out of the question. The Acta Parabiologica‘s revised classification group places the fireworm among the various members of family Hemerothalcus, with the “true dragons” of the Draco species.

2 Because of the already-fragile state of their DNA, such exposure over prolonged periods can also result in memory loss and other neurological problems, as seems to have been the case with the Eldest in SYWTBAW.

#Young Wizards meta #fireworms #Lanthanodrax speleotraxis #Young Wizards #So You Want To be A Wizard #unnatural history

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

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Hewo I know Halloween is over but may I have TADC cast x Jack Skellington!Reader? Plus their dog also got transported and turned into Zero.

Imagine an 11ft tall skeleton rising out the giant ballpit thing

If Jax or Caine pisses them off they do the scary face thing

TADC cast x jack skellington! Type reader!

I dont mention the dog much since I dont really. Have many ideas for them <\3

Also I have not seen nightmare before Christmas in YEARS so UHUH! This may be a bit off

Written on mobile

I'm down with the sickness but the sickness is not down with me (too sore to sleep)

CAINE:

You guys walk bubble and your dog together/j

Actually no that would be.. kind of funny.. I can definitely see caine doing that if hes trying to befriend you

Chaotic gentleman (is that a thing? Honestly I'm just basing the gentleman part on the fact caine says stuff like "my dear" and goes out of his way to welcome new circus members but uhuh) and calm gentleman duo

Things happen

Honestly I think you would balance him out, like either he tones down or you compliment his personality enough to make it more bearable to others

POMNI:

Similar to the skeleton reader post, pomni is a little offput by you being a skeleton. It's like how you instinctively get freaked out when you see an exposed brain, usually means somethings very wrong. Same case with your bones I think. At least for pomni while shes getting used to things. Though your gentle and kind demeanor really helps ease things along, and pomni finds herself comfortable around you!

AND you come with a dog? Tbh I can see pomni being a dog person

... If that's your dog, assuming it's not an NPC, does that mean your dog got a mini headset...?

RAGATHA:

Kind lady and kind person. You guys kind of just brighten up the room whenever you two are around, and even more so if you're together... though, that isn't saying much given the general attitude of the others..

You both tend to band together to look out for the others during IHAs, I think

Let's you rattle on about your interests; I'm sure most others would let you do the same, but I think Ragatha would actually be actively engaged in it! I think Kinger would be too...

Sets you three down in a corner and observes

JAX:

Writing this down first before I forget but Jax would do an exaggerated fake scream when you do the scary face thing. I don't think jax would be all the phased by it. If you're a skeleton you're cursed with him trying to undo your bones, very similar to the TADC cast x skeleton reader post from a few days ago

Personality wise? Jax is going to try to find your limits and break them. Oh you're a gentleperson who handles things with grace? Not for long.. unless you have the patience and forgiveness of a god

KINGER:

I think he would enjoy your prescence! Just dont do the face thing around him, hes probably gonna freak out even if it's not directed towards him. Kinger doesnt strike me as the type to like scary things..

Pets your dog, a lot

Emotional support animal/j but actually I can see him becoming attatched to your dog

Not much to be said here but I'm chalking that more up to me being tired <\3

ZOOBLE:

Is a little annoyed by your enthusiasm to learn as much as you can about whatever topic ha syour interest; bonus if you're current interest is the digital world and trying to figure out all the ins and outs of it

....they're more of a cat person, I think... ir maybe a snake person... or reptile person in general.. doesnt hate your dog, though

Can at least appreciate your mannerisms and politeness

I can see you two being decent friends , I think

GANGLE:

Another one where I think you guys could make decent friends. Honestly, I didnt write this to be romantic (though some of these can be interpreted as such!) But I wholeheartedly believe gangle would develop a crush on you. I mean, come on! You're a gentleman, you're a lil quirky, you're kind and curious, and so on! Bonus if you look the part, too. I have a hc lying around somewhere where I believe gangle used to play dating sims in the real world and tbh. She would definitely go after characters that reflected you... and oh look youre a real person, hell yeah

It was either characters like you or the dark mysterious ones

But maybe I'm hella projecting onto gangle

Gangle is our x reader enjoyer rep/hj

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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dinodorks · 8 months

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[ Visitors pass by some of the iconic sculptures of prehistoric life within Crystal Palace Park. Photo by Richard Baker. ]

"When the Crystal Palace and Park opened in south London in 1854, it was an instant sensation. Visitors came from far and wide to see the giant glass structure that had been rebuilt there, bigger and better, after the Great Exhibition of 1851 in Hyde Park. Wide-eyed spectators wandered freely through Egyptian and Medieval Courts, delighted in high-wire circus acts, and were transported by a 4,000-piece orchestra. Tucked away in a corner of the vast gardens that fanned out from the palace, past sweeping terraces and more fountains than even at Versailles, was a smaller but no less ambitious attraction. Scattered across several islands in the middle of a lake stood three dozen life-size sculptures of prehistoric animals, including several dinosaurs up to 30 feet long—the world’s first attempt to model them at full scale. The Crystal Palace Dinosaurs were the work of Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, a natural history artist who, aided by some of the leading scientists of the day, had dreamt up a grand experiment in visual education, bringing to life the “dry bones or oddly shaped stones” found in the British Museum and introducing the masses to the burgeoning science of paleontology. By reconstructing Britain’s long-extinct animals, he hoped to “render the appearance and names of the ancient inhabitants of our globe as familiar as household words.” The palace burned down in the 1930s, but, almost 170 years after they were crafted, most of Hawkins’ original sculptures still stand sentry in the park. Today, they’re mostly famous for being wildly inaccurate. With few complete fossils to work off, Hawkins had to use his imagination and the advice of comparative anatomists to breathe life into his models, which, in addition to four true dinosaurs, also depict prehistoric mammals, reptiles and amphibians. As a result, the sculptures look suspiciously like many modern-day creatures. “People kind of scoff and giggle, because they look so wrong today, but at the time they were really cutting-edge,” says Bob Nicholls, a paleoartist who, through careful study of archival images, recently reconstructed a lost sculpture that had disappeared from the park sometime in the 1960s. His tapir-like model of Palaeotherium magnum, an animal we now know looked a lot more like a horse, was unveiled in July and now stands among Hawkins’ own surviving creations."

Read more: "How a Victorian Dinosaur Park Became a Time Capsule of Early Paleontology" by Yannic Rack.

#palaeoblr #Crystal Palace #Crystal Palace Dinosaurs #Dinosaurs #Article #Information #London #England #Photo #Sculptures

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bestiarium · 9 months

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The Drac [French folktales]

The municipality Draguignan in south-east France was originally named Draconeum, and its name was supposedly derived from a local myth about horrible monsters that lived in the nearby river Rhône.

Usually referred to simply as the ‘Drac’, these dragons or dragon-like creatures could shapeshift into the form of a human and walk among the people undetected. They made their homes in underwater caverns along the riverbed and would often shapeshift into golden objects such as cups or rings, in order to attract people. Though they are said to capture children too, their preference goes out to women old enough to lactate.

The drac thus sits beneath the surface of the water in the shape of a desirable golden treasure, enticing women to enter the river. But when they do, the beast grabs them and transports them to its lair where the kidnapped woman is forced to care for the dragon’s offspring as a nurse or maid. These drac caverns aren’t filthy dungeons, rather they are beautiful subterranean palaces. After exactly 7 years of work, the women are usually allowed to return to the world above.

One particular tale tells of a woman who was thus kidnapped and forced to care for young dracs. One day, she accidentally touched her eye with a magical salve or ointment made from eels, after which she gained the ability to see the creatures in their usual, invisible state. But one of the dracs later found out and took this ability away from her.

The story – as described in the 13th century Otia Imperialia – doesn’t tell us what the creatures looked like, however. It is tempting to imagine the dracs as large, scaled reptiles but remember that the word ‘dragon’ was a common umbrella term for evil monsters during this time.

However, these creatures do appear to be reptilian, as the French poet Frédéric Mistral would later describe the dracs as winged reptiles with the head and shoulders of an attractive young man.

Interestingly, the French story of the drac was eventually brought to Great Britain where it gained traction among the Scots and was eventually adapted into Scottish folktales. In this version, the creature was a female fey (in contrast with the French male dragon), but the details of the tale remained the same.

Sources: Tilbury, G., 13th century, Oria Imperialia. I consulted the 1856 version “Des Gervasius von Tilbury Oria Imperialia” by Felix Liebrecht. Holman, F., Valen, N. and Walker, S., 1975, The Drac: French Tales of Demons and Dragons, Scribner, USA, 84 pp. Mistral, F., 1897, Le Poème du Rhône, Paris. Douglas, G., 1901, Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales, 360 pp. (image source: James Christensen)

#French mythology #monsters #dragons #mythical creatures #creatures #mythology

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 8 months

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hi, this may be a bit of an odd question!

a few months ago, i got my dad to take me to a reptile show. neither of us had ever been before (though it didnt look much different from the expos ive seen on youtube), and my dad isn't particularly interested in reptiles. after the show, he expressed that he would have thought the animals would be displayed in naturalistic enclosures when he heard "reptile show", rather than in little bare containers. until then, i admit i was too swept up in excitement to question this really, even though i am otherwise a nut for humane husbandry and not doing anything that stresses animals. i know youre okay with expos, so im not worried about the legit ones being terribly unethical, but I would like to ask you if the conditions of being transported and displayed at shows *are* stressful or otherwise bad for the animals.

Reptile "show" is a bit of a misleading name, yeah! The crucial thing here is that expos are primarily a marketplace. Reptiles at expos are kept in small, empty containers so potential buyers can easily see them. It's good for the seller because it allows them to show off the animals for sale very easily, and it's good for buyers because it allows them to easily get a good look at the animal's condition and check for any stuck shed or other signs of illness. Natural enclosures look cool but they're not ideal if you're trying to get a good look at an animal you're thinking about buying.

But yeah, when you're displaying reptiles for sale in contianers, small is actually better. That's because reptiles, especially snakes, just feel more secure and safe when they can feel their sides touching the walls.

I wouldn't like the containers reptiles are kept in at expos for anything longer than the show duration, but for a few hours, it's not harmful in the slightest.

#not a rating #reptile expos

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pascalsummers · 1 year

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What about Dean, Sam, Cas, and I saw you write for Crowley so him to, with male reader who's a big reptile nerd and has a ton of reptiles and crazy fish, like eels, pufferfish, mantis shrimp, stuff like that.

A/N: This one was really fun to write. Enjoy!

Your A Reptile Nerd (Team Free Will x Male Reader)

DEAN

When he first saw the abundance of creatures living in your house (Especially the snakes) he honestly wanted to be as far away from your house as possible. Despite you assuring him none of the animals were dangerous Dean would still firmly prefer to be on the other side of the room. When you moved into the bunker Dean made sure to make a specific section for your reptiles to live in and warns you that none of them should ever leave that room. While Dean usually avoids your pets he will go to the store and get them food and on the very rare occasion feed them though he will complain to you about the whole experience.

SAM

Sam is more tolerant of the many animals living with you and was quite impressed with your ability to take care of so many. Sam would offer to help you transport your animals to the bunker but would be very nervous about not hurting any of them. When he has some free time Sam would do some research on the reptile you have just out of curiosity or would just ask you about it. Sam would let some of the reptiles out (Mostly snakes, lizards, and frogs.) so they can roam around, and because he knows if Dean sees one he will freak out and he finds that thought pretty funny. He will of course ask your permission to do that first.

CASTIEL

Castiel was very curious about your wide collection of animals and your ability to keep them all alive and well. When it comes time to bring them all to the bunker Cas would help out by flying the more delicate animals to their space in the bunker. Though some of the animals were very disoriented none of them were seriously injured so you both considered it a win. Cas would spend some time looking at the various reptiles and would ask you questions about them whenever they arose. There was a time when you offered to let Cas hold your red-tailed boa which he agreed to out of curiosity. Overall the angel and the snake seemed to get along well though Dean almost fainted he saw the snake.

CROWLEY

Crowley would be the most appreciative of your collection the first time he sees them. When you ask for his help to bring them to the bunker Crowley would help though he would try to nudge you towards bringing them to his place instead. Crowley would ask you about various reptiles, especially the more dangerous ones. Crowley would sometimes offer you a new animal for your collection though his picks tended to be animals like cobras and snapping turtles. When Crowley tried to bring a crocodile into the bunker (mainly to mess with Dean) you offered to have Crowley keep the more dangerous ones where he lives and you just visit them from time to time which everyone agreed to.

#team free will x male reader #supernatural x male reader #dean winchester x male reader #dean x male reader #sam winchester x male reader #sam x male reader #castiel x male reader #crowley x male reader #spn crowley #team free will #supernatural #spn #x male reader #male reader

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stickthroughthephases · 3 months

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"Un"-Happy Meal

C(S). Reptile/Syzoth x Reader | WC. 1588 | G. Fluff |

Syzoth had still been adjusting to life in Earthrealm and amongst humans who were not the other Earthrealm defenders. Fortunately enough you lived away from big cities and towns, opting to reside in the quiet countryside of your village. Though he was always on alert whenever the two of you went into town for food or to explore, his fascination with the bright lights and greasy smell of fast food wafting throughout was increasing each time he crossed passed with the fast food joints in town.

The town centre was located about an hour and a half from the village you lived in and a half hour more from the secluded area out of the village where you and Syzoth lived now. You usually saved the long trek for Saturday mornings every couple of weeks, making the visit even more exciting.

This particular trip into town was different than most. Your longtime friend had asked you to babysit her five-year-old daughter Aria, who had become the unlikeliest of friends with your partner, in turn, was happy to entertain the little one. Having babysat her since she was born, and the other countless times since you and Syzoth became a couple, what was the worst that could happen?

The toddler was dropped off early in the morning as you and Syzoth prepared to head into town. After securing any additional supplies to keep the toddler entertained and fed, the three of you were now ready to make the trek into town. As roads were still scarce in your village, and most of the 21st-century advancements pertained to the town centre, you had set up a cozy ensemble for Syzoth and Aria, in the back of your horse-driven carriage. Sure it was a little old-fashioned but it was a reliable form of transportation.

Arriving at the town centre, Syzoth and Aria waved to all the street vendors and passersby, all of whom waved back with the same enthusiasm. Sharing their own little jokes and giggling at funny sights, you couldn’t help the smile grace your lips hearing the two in their own world, enjoying each other’s company.

The day had gone virtually stress-free, Aria and Syzoth entertained each other as you ran your errands, Syzoth carried any and all of your bags of course despite your protests and somehow also managed to carry Aria on his shoulders.

As far as little kids go, Aria was unfazed by other temptations of candy and other toys displayed during your errand run, but there was always one indulgent activity she wanted to do—visit McDonalds.

Your friend often told you how she could bargain her way out of other requests if she promised to take Aria to McDonald's at the end of their trip into town and it worked like a charm for you as well, additionally, Syzoth had always looked doe-eyed whenever walking passed the elaborate establishment that you figured it was time he try it too.

The step inside the McDonald's transported Syzoth into an out-of-body experience. His nose detected a variety of smells unfamiliar to his previous knowledge and his eyes, a vast hue of colours displayed inside. You found an empty booth near the Play Place so Aria could enjoy playing as you all waited for some food. Since Syzoth could not enjoy human food, he settled for exploring the huge menu and watching Aria.

The play area was an oasis for the little one who quickly made friends with other kids and immersed herself in the made-up games.

The place was fairly packed so you opted to go back to your table instead of just standing near the order station whilst Syzoth was whisked away by Aria and her newly made friends to act as the bad guy for one of their games.

All was well until to “catch” the children, he had to follow them up the intricate slide area, it didn’t occur to him, until too late, that the space was made for kids and it was fairly high up. He made it up to the highest tunnel slide until the enclosed space shot the memory of Shang Tsung’s lab across his mind. Frozen, the voices of Aria and other children fell to deaf ears as panic settled. Breathing became hard and the tight space seemly began to further compress leaving Syzoth with no room to move.

Confused, Aria ran over to you distressed.

“Syzoth won’t come down, we called his name and everything but he won’t respond!” she shrieked, worry etched in her brow and voice.

“Aria, it’s ok don’t worry, I’ll go get him down ok?.” Your attempt at consoling Aria works a smidge as she nods along to your words, still clearly not convinced.

You quicken your steps and attempt to navigate through the maze of ladders, slides and tunnels, calling out to Syzoth to locate him.

“He’s in the purple tunnel!” yells out one of the children, who are all gathered at the end of the slide connected to the tunnel in which Syzoth is stuck, trying their own to coax him down the slide.

You locate the quickest ladder and begin your climb, almost slipping due to the lack of grip on your socks but catch yourself before tumbling down. Bending down, you get on your knees to climb into the tunnel, moving slowly until you reach a frozen Syzoth.

His eyes closed shut, sweat beading down the side of his face which was flushed red, arms outstretched with an iron grip on the raised bars inside the tunnel so tight his hands turned white.

“..Syzoth…love…can you hear my voice?” you begin, slowly crawling towards him.

There is a pause, and the only sound is from the children down below, muttering amongst themselves.

“Syzoth,” you try again. “Sweetie is everything ok?”. You stop moving until you’re a mere few inches apart, unsure if the space is enough to avoid making him feel suffocated.

Before you can even register it, your hand moves by its own accord to cup the side of his face, slightly shaking as if it was unsure of it’s intentions, and lightly swipe your thumb across his cheek. You wait for Syzoth’s reaction and when you sense a welcome to your touch, you press your hand further into his cheek and feel as he leans into your palm.

You try once more.

“Syzoth, my love, can you open your eyes? Its just me, I can help you,” you assert but quickly follow it up with, “-if you need it.”

Long lashes lift gently from his cheek until his downcasted eyes turn slightly to face you, panic and anxiety bouncing behind his irises begin to dwindle down from the assurance of your touch and your face that reminds him he is no longer stuck in his past.

The breath he didn’t realize he was holding comes out in a small huff, you demonstrate the breathing techniques you both have grown used to utilizing whenever the familiar panic rises up from the depth of Syzoth’s conscience, stabilizing him into the present.

“I’m sor–”

“Ssshhhh,” you reply before he can even finish his apology.

You move closer to press your forehead against his, a silent gesture, one you know he would understand as a reminder that you hated when he apologized for panic attacks such as this and chose to spend a few more moments in your intimacy, forgetting the crowd that had gathered below.

“IS.HE.OK??” shouts the gathering of children, who escaped your mind, equally worried about their newly made friend who was stuck in the tube.

You pull back and instruct Syzoth to sit at the entrance of the slide.

“Do you need a few more minutes?”

“No need, I feel much better,” he gleams readying himself for the much too small slide.

You wrap your legs around his waist and use the bars on either side to push the two of you down the slide.

After a short twist and turn, the two of your arrive at the bottom of the slide with a loud “BOO”.

Scared faces suddenly rejoice to see the two of you, quickly hounding Syzoth to ask if he is ok, to which he assures that he just got a little bit scared.

As the kids busied themselves of sharing their own stories of bravery, a choral of parents beckoned their children, some to eat and others that their playtime was now over. You, Aria and Syzoth waved goodbye to the kids and went to enjoy to your own meal.

Aria attached herself onto Syzoth and refused to let go which prompted him to carry her back to table as you collected their food. Her attachment was short-lived at the enticement of her happy meal toy, busying herself in the colouring book and consuming her apple slices.

Similarly your had found itself on top of Syzoths for the entirety of meal as both a reassurance for him and yourself.

The day was now at its end, a sleepy Aria tuckered from exploring and playing so you laid her to rest in the little cocoon in your buggy and Syzoth opted to sit beside you as you started your trek back to the village.

The sun was starting to set and the air felt a little chillier than before, you feel Syzoth hand snake around your waist and his head finding solace on your shoulder.

“Maybe next time we eat our meal at an outdoor playground without any tunnels,” whispers Syzoth, snuggling closer to you.

*Author's Note*

I've seen enough Syzoth smut for life and I think we need more fluff and soft stories for the MK characters, their life is already so hard, thus I just had to write this for Syzoth when my best friend sent me an idea several months ago about babysitting and getting stuck in the McDonalds Play Place.

#mortal kombat #mk1 #reptile #syzoth #reader x character #syzoth x reader #syzoth shorts #syzoth x you #syzoth mk #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #syzoth x y/n #fluff #gender neutral reader #one shot #imagines #Minaar writes

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wolveria · 2 months

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The Raven's Hymn - Ch 49

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Don't. I need him.”

Chapter Warnings: Violence, guns, death, gore

AO3

Spotify

Safe Object Storage, colloquially known as SOS, was a section that existed in every containment building, whether Heavy or Light. Inside were kept designated Safe SCPs, though their level of danger determined in which section they were kept.

You didn’t understand 079’s directions or 682’s confidence until you read the designation of one of the glass cases.

“I estimate that this object will be the most useful,” 079 pronounced as you set him on a nearby table. Your arms were starting to ache now that 682 had grown to the size of a kitten. He reminded you of one too, jumping onto the case only for you to dislodge him by lifting it.

The jade ring lay inside, polished and gleaming in its velvet ring holder. Yes, it certainly would help, but you placed it into the pocket of your lab coat for now. You’d only used it once, and from what you remembered, the effects had been… intense. You’d rather keep it tucked away until you absolutely needed it.

You also grabbed SCP-178, the pair of stereoscopic glasses that to the average person allowed them to see instances of 178. During testing, you’d discovered you did the opposite—make the entities manifest in reality. It could prove useful, though you had no idea if you could control the creatures in any meaningful way.

Other SCPs were looked over and passed, either because you were unsure of your effect on them, or they simply wouldn’t be helpful. The last one you examined, you left where it was, not even bothering to lift the glass.

“Don’t get soft now,” 682 growled from where he was perched on your shoulder like the world’s most belligerent bird. “You need to use all the weapons in your arsenal.”

The Soviet GP-5 mask seemed to stare up at you, its dark, circular eye guards like a pair of empty sockets. As soon as you’d been forced to wear it during testing, you’d known what it truly was. The official SCP-1499 document stated it could “transport” its wearer to a bleak, alien landscape filled with violent beings of unknown origin.

In actuality, it teleported the wearer to somewhere in Russia, making them believe the buildings they saw were of alien design, and the people they saw were hideous monsters. You’d known this, just as you’d known a previous wearer—most likely a Foundation agent—had decided to attack these “creatures,” not knowing the truth of what they were doing.

What you had done to the mask was worse. As soon as you’d donned it, you hadn’t gone anywhere; you’d forced five of those “monsters” to appear in the testing chamber with you. The security personnel had fired on them until they no longer moved.

No one had confirmed it to you afterward, but you knew you were responsible for the sudden and unexplainable disappearance of five people in Moscow.

“No,” you said, placing the glasses in your other pocket. “This will have to be enough.”

“And if it’s not?” asked the reptile.

You didn’t answer.

The Site Director had an office in each containment structure, as well as in the administration building. If he’d retreated to the admin section, you would have been out of luck due to the retracted skybridges, but apparently, he hadn’t made it out of Heavy Containment before then. And those bridges wouldn’t span the gap, not even for a Site Director. Only an all-clear signal or an override from the O5 Council would open the isolated sections of Site-20.

After briefly plugging him into a nearby security console, 079 showed you the interior view of Leahy’s office. The angle was from somewhere in the corner, a security camera, and there was satisfaction in observing the Site Director trapped in a cell of his own. It had been turned into a makeshift hold, the sofa, table, and desk turned on their sides to provide cover from whatever tried the door, which was the only way in or out of the room.

You didn’t know who exactly he expected to show up. Leahy had no shortage of enemies, and now three of them were outside his door.

079 had warned you the guards were heavily armed, but he’d failed to mention they were MTF. At least you knew where 682’s guards had gone. They were covered head to toe in armor, Kevlar, and visors, and were trained to face the deadliest anomalies the Foundation had.

682 didn’t ask if you had a plan. You only had the one, and you slipped it over your finger, the jade band shrinking snug against your skin. The familiar rush of startling, brilliant awareness washed over your body, alighting neurons and nerves, filling your mind with thoughts faster than you could process them.

You set the laptop on the floor a few feet from the entrance, far enough away so the two SCPs wouldn’t become collateral damage.

“Open the door.”

079 wasn’t plugged into the network, but his fragment would hear you. You unholstered the pistol, checked the clip and chamber, and noted it would be overkill. You only needed three bullets.

The door slid open. As predicted, one of the MTF immediately pulled the pin from a smoke grenade and launched it toward the breach.

You stuck your arm around the doorway and fired. The bullet shredded the steel canister, causing a midair explosion of smoke and chemical residue. To their credit, the MTF didn’t panic as the office filled with smoke, blinding them. They were still in control, confident their training and armor would protect them.

You stepped into the room and fired twice into the floor. The first bullet ricocheted off the tile, bounced upwards, and caught a soldier in his chin guard, knocking his head back. The second entered his brain through the bottom of his jaw.

Before he could fall, you caught him by the straps of his vest and held him up, the bullets fired on you caught in the mesh of his armor.

The dead MTF still held his P90 TR in one hand, the stiff glove holding his finger against the trigger. You bent his arm back over his shoulder and squeezed the inside of his bicep, digging into the median nerve. His hand twitched, dying muscles rallying one last time, and the gun sent a spray of bullets across the room.

Now the MTF did start to panic, not expecting one of their own to fire on them, the smoke blinding them from realizing he was already dead. You didn’t aim for hitting them directly, instead herding them toward the side of the room away from the Site Director cowering behind his overturned desk. You only had seconds before their training overtook basic human instinct.

You released the arm and unhooked an ET-MP grenade from the dead man’s belt. Already the soldiers were coming to their senses, aware they’d left Leahy exposed, unable to shoot through the smoke for risk of killing him.

That split-second hesitation was the last piece falling into place. Shoving the armored corpse sideways, it hit Leahy hard, forcing him to the ground and covering him. You tossed the grenade and aimed into the smoke.

It bounced once, and on its returning arc upward, you squeezed the trigger.

“GRENA—”

The explosion bloomed at hip height, briefly revealing the three soldiers in the smokey haze before sending a shock wave across the room. It slammed you back against the wall, cracking the concrete surface from the force of your body. Without the ring, you would have been little more than a broken doll thrown by an angry toddler.

As it were, your brain ached like it had been rattled in your head, your ears filled with a high-pitched whine. Your right ear couldn’t hear anything beyond that. You coughed, the smoke in your lungs reaching a level of irritation you couldn’t ignore. The vents in the ceiling whirred to life, 079 clearing the air for you now that the smokescreen was no longer needed.

You staggered to your feet and ignored the distant pains of your body. If you were lucid and moving, you were fine. Grabbing the dead soldier by his vest, you hauled him off Leahy, finding the man was still alive, shaken but in better shape than you were. You didn’t know what you looked like, not having seen your reflection clearly since before the breach, but by his pale, sweaty expression, it wasn’t comforting.

His eyes shifted past you, and it was the only warning. You turned. There wasn’t much left of the soldier from the waist down, but that didn’t stop him from aiming his pistol at your chest.

The calculations were clear—you couldn’t raise your own pistol before he could squeeze the trigger. The muzzle flashed, the explosion of gunpowder worsening the whine in your right ear, but no bullet pierced your chest cavity to puncture your lungs.

A greenish grey blur flashed in front of you, taking the bullet in the side before hitting the tile. Instead of tearing through him, the slug was absorbed into 682’s flesh, and his size increased to that of a large cat.

The MTF had time to draw in a breath to scream before the entity descended on him, ripping out his throat in a spray of crimson that painted the nearby wall. A trail of gurgles left him before there was silence.

You left 682 to enjoy his well-earned meal, checking the rest of the bodies, or what was left of them, finding no other survivors. Your heart beat at a steady, strong rhythm, one that hadn’t changed from beginning to end.

“Are you armed?” you asked as if speaking to the room at large, though he knew the question was for him. Leahy had at least one weapon, judging by the shape of his coat, but you were curious if he would choose honesty.

“Yes.”

He understood there was no purpose in lying or fighting. Good.

“Toss them.”

Now you did turn, watching as he pulled a pistol and stun gun from within his lab coat, sliding them across the floor. It was the same stun gun he’d used on you when you first wore 714. Rage erupted along your nerves, dimming just as quickly. His suffering was assured, but now was not the moment.

You kicked away the weapons, not bothering to pick them up, your own pistol still held in one hand. You stared down at him. He seemed so… small from how you remembered. Or maybe you had stretched beyond your limits. With each passing minute, you felt less and less like yourself. Cold liquid seeped in your veins, as if the heat of your hatred had been inverted into endothermic apathy.

“Christ, Reid,” he uttered in a quiet breath.

682, who had grown to the size of a dog after eating what was left of the MTF, lunged at Leahy, trapping him further against the wall.

“Shit!”

“You do remember,” the reptile mused. He was large enough to start regaining his crocodilian shape, his green mane hanging over his eyes as he bared pointed teeth through a long snout. “I feared you had forgotten me, Site Director. Your shameful little secret, though I am growing by the minute. Perhaps I shall add your flesh to mine. You do not appear to be using it for much.”

He opened wide his maw, prepared to swallow the man whole.

“Don’t. I need him.”

682 paused, one yellow eye appraising you through his shaggy mane. Whatever he saw made him growl and snap his muzzle shut. Leahy flinched from the sharp teeth closing in front of his nose, and 682 gave a low chuckle. He moved away, perhaps to feed on more bodies or to return to 079. You didn’t care which. Your entire focus was on the man watching you with the same expression one would wear around an injured wild animal.

You raised the pistol and aimed between his eyes.

“I’ll tell you where 049 is,” Leahy said with a quickness that bordered on earnest. “But… you’re not going to like it.”

“Talk.”

Your tone was as cold as the slush in your veins. He winced.

“It would be better if I show you.”

“Where?”

“One of the medical labs.”

You waited to feel something. A rush of panic, or heart-clenching fear at 079’s words being proven true.

You felt nothing.

“Move.”

Leahy blinked, but beyond that, he silently obeyed. You kept him in front, pistol in one hand and the open laptop in the other. 682 stayed a few steps ahead, scouting the way for any obstacles, human or SCP, but the way was clear up to the medical lab. It was obvious why. The closer you got to your destination, the number of black stains and rust-colored ooze marking the walls and floor increased.

You were somehow unsurprised when he led you to the same medical lab where you and 049 had cured the anomaly-afflicted patients. Those empty beds were shoved against the wall, their haphazard arrangement indicating chaos. One gurney stood out in the middle of the long room, this one different for two reasons. It held wrist and ankle restraints, and it was corroded by black ooze and rust, the same kind infesting the walls.

“106 attacked before we knew what was happening,” Leahy said without prompting. “Most of our people were taken. 049 included.”

All you could do was stare at the gurney, and some of your rage broke through the icy surface.

“What were you doing to him.”

“Do you really want to know?”

He barely got out the words before you rushed him, shoving him against the wall and holding the barrel of your shotgun against his neck.

“Okay! Okay! Jesus.”

You put some weight on that shotgun, impressing on him the importance of speaking the truth and speaking it quickly. He eyed you, his hesitancy a bad sign, as if death by your hands might be the preferable option.

“We… were going to extract semen samples. Sperm donations for the project. But it was proving difficult, there was an internal sheath that was impossible to penetrate, so I ordered him to be surgically opened. We never got the chance—”

You backed off and aimed the shotgun at his face.

“I should kill you,” you hissed, some of that radioactive fury leaking through the cold.

“You certainly could.”

He was pale, sweat dotting his skin, and he was clearly worried, but there was a distinct lack of terror that was disappointing. You’d been certain a man like Leahy was a coward at heart, but being faced with his own death, he seemed oddly detached.

“Not going to beg for your life?”

He released a breath that sounded almost amused.

“Would it help?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

You ground your teeth together. Having the Site Director on his knees begging would be a satisfying sight, but it wouldn’t save 049. You had to focus. It was getting more difficult the longer you wore the ring, your thoughts floating like silk ribbons in the wind if you had nothing to focus on. Your head was also starting to hurt like a sonofabitch.

Your vision drifted away, drawn to one of the large, rusted stains on the wall where 106 had either entered or left this dimension. Focus snapping into a focal point, you shifted your gaze back to Leahy.

“I have a better use for you.” You tilted your head toward the stain. “Go in there.”

He scoffed, disbelief slanting his features.

“I’d rather you shoot me.”

You lifted away the shotgun, pulled out your pistol, and fired it into his thigh.

Leahy screamed and clutched his leg, nearly falling if not for the wall behind him and your fingers suddenly gripping the collar of his lab coat.

“A shame you’re too old for him,” you growled. “If you were twenty years younger, I’d break both femurs, just to be sure.”

There it was, the fear in his eyes, clouded by pain and an animal need to run and hide. But there had been a purpose for the bullet.

682 appeared next to you, his own interest showing, though you weren’t sure if he was drawn by the agonized panting coming from the Site Director, or the blood dripping down his leg.

“As much as I enjoy the screaming,” he lamented with a sigh, “I cannot accompany you in that realm.”

“That’s fine. I won’t be long.”

You released Leahy and watched for him to collapse. He didn’t, but he clearly wanted to as he pressed down on the wound that refused to clot.

“F-fuck, Reid, I’m going to bleed out.”

Releasing an impatient breath, you pushed against his shoulder so he was standing upright, and before he could comment on the rough treatment, you snatched at his belt buckle and unlatched it. His expression would have been funny at another time when your veins weren’t burning with an arctic freeze.

With a yank, the belt came out of its loops, and you wrapped it halfway up his thigh. The bullet had entered above his right knee, the swelling tissue and damaged bone effectively keeping him hobbled. You needed him limping but conscious, because where you were going, you wouldn’t have the boons granted by the ring. You didn’t know how 714 would affect you while in 106’s dimension, but this wasn’t the time to cross-test anomalies.

The tourniquet stemmed the bleeding to trickle before it stopped completely.

“You’ll live,” you answered his pinched, angry expression. “The bullet went where I wanted.”

He wasn’t impressed, and he wasn’t grateful, but you didn’t need him to be. You only needed him weak and easy to control.

Stepping back a safe distance, you slipped off the ring. The world shrank on itself, your focus returning to its normal clarity and limited width, and the warmth infusing your limbs was a relief. You shivered, closing your eyes to slow down the readjustment.

It wasn’t just the physical differences. The thick mental barrier fell, and several different realizations and memories crowded in, vying for your attention even as you tried to hold them at bay.

Smoke, gunshots, blood and explosions. Four lives snuffed out, violently and without care, without a thought, only obstacles in the way.

Valens, tortured and assaulted for a project that was equally as cruel.

The plan to go into 106’s realm. You could still see the steps, what the colder, more alien version of you wanted. It was insane. How you’d had such certainty a moment ago and now wanted to run the other way was jarring. It was like dreaming you could fly, only to wake on the edge of a building and assume the same rules still applied.

And then, shooting Leahy. You didn’t know which part of you had done that, the lines too blurred to distinguish.

Speaking of. He was staring when you opened your eyes, though he hadn’t moved, not when 682 was close by, waiting for the Site Director to be stupid. It was a shame he wasn’t. It seemed shooting him was the right move, cowing him just enough to make him manageable.

Your own nerves were much more rebellious. Nausea roiled your gun, stomach threatening to heave after what you’d done, at what had been done to 049. Lines were being smashed to pieces, and you imagined more would be trampled before it was over.

But 049 had no one else. No one with clean hands, a clear conscious, and who lacked a mountain of growing damage caused and received. All he had was you, and it would have to be enough.

You slung the shotgun over your back but kept out the pistol, grabbed Leahy by the arm, and pushed him toward the rusted spot. It seemed solid, but as soon as he put his palm against the surface, he sank through like a thick, viscous liquid.

You didn’t let go, knowing the connection between the two sides might not be a linear corridor, and entering one after another might not put you in the same location. The Site Director was almost all the way through, and for a moment you were afraid the portal would bar your way, your own abilities keeping you from entering an anomalous space.

But the viscous rust slid over your hand, coating it in a distant cold/heat sensation that you instinctively knew should hurt, but didn’t. You kept a grip on Leahy’s coat, closing your eyes as it swallowed up your arm and then over your head, forcing your body to follow.

You endured the eerie feeling of pushing through a solid wall into somewhere that shouldn’t exist—and burst out the other side to infinite darkness.

Next Chapter

#the raven's hymn #scp 049 x reader #scp 049 #scp 049 fanfiction #scp fanfiction #wolveria writes

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dougdimmadodo · 1 year

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April’s Fossil of the Month - Dimetrodon (Dimetrodon spp.)

Family: Sphenacodon Family (Sphenacodontidae)

Time Period: 295–270 Million Years Ago (Late Permian)

Although the 14-or-so species of stockily-built quadrupedal vertebrates in the genus Dimetrodon are commonly included alongside dinosaurs in popular culture, every member of this genus was already long extinct by the time the first dinosaurs developed (with the most recent known Dimetrodon species, Dimetrodon grandis, disappearing from the fossil record around 270 million years ago, while the earliest known dinosaurs appear some 25 million years later.) The morphology of the skulls of Dimetrodon species (particularly the shape of their temporal fenestrae, a pair of openings behind the eye sockets which housed muscles that operated the jaws in life) suggests that they were actually synapsids - a group of animals containing the mammals and their closest relatives, and while this makes them a “sister-group” to mammals they were still part of a separate group of non-mammalian synapsids with no direct living descendants. While the size of Dimetrodon species varied enormously (ranging from the 60cm/2ft long Dimetrodon teutonis to the 4.6 meter/15 foot long Dimetrodon angelensis, which was among the largest terrestrial animals of its time,) all were alike in possessing a distinctive dorsal “sail” made up of several elongated extensions of their vertebrae, likely with skin running between them. The purpose of this sail has been the subject of extensive debate; it was historically thought to have been used in thermoregulation (with the skin between the vertebral extensions plausibly containing blood vessels, allowing the sail to absorb heat and transport it around the body when exposed to direct sunlight, or to lose heat by flushing the sail with blood to allow it to disperse into the air when in the shade,) but more recently it has been suggested that it may also have served a role in courtship. The name “Dimetrodon” translates roughly to “two measured teeth”, in reference to the fact that, unlike reptiles, members of this genus had two different types of teeth suited to different functions - large canine teeth for gripping and tearing meat, and smaller “shearing” teeth that were likely used to more delicately remove meat from bones. Based on their dentition, it is likely that all Dimetrodon species were carnivores that fed on smaller vertebrates such as amphibians, reptiles and possibly smaller synapsids.

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Image Sources:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dimetrodon_incisivus_Exhibit_Museum_of_Natural_History.JPG and https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dimetrodon_grandis_3D_Model_Reconstruction.png

#dimetrodon #synapsid #synapsids #zoology #biology #paleontology #paleobiology #animal #animals #wildlife #prehistoric wildlife #evolutionary biology #permian wildlife #non-mammalian synapsids #prehistoric animals

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that1nkyone · 1 year

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Hang on, I gotta talk about the Platypus for a sec

So it's a pretty well-known fact that once colonialists started invading Australia in the 1700s, they came across a lot of fauna that made them go "what the fuck is this." A lot of the default reaction for England back then was 'shoot it and take it back home,' or 'put aboard a ship and hope it's alive when we get there.'

But I wanna talk a little about the details of that, and how I'm a little cheesed off with the Naturalists of Old when they first saw a platypus.

For one, it was dead. And dismissed because there's no way that beak was real. Those cheeky colonists were definitely playing a prank and wasting their time.

And then a few more come in, this time preserved as well as they can be in spirits. And people start saying "okay, well... what is it? Is it a bird? The bill makes me think it's a bird." "These aren't feathers." "It swims? It's an amphibian, which is a Reptile, as we all know (they didn't think these guys Seperate until quite a bit later)." "This thing is also clearly amongst the Lower Beings of God's Creations (Creationism was still a big thing in scientific circles)."

Paper upon paper was written about this new creature, and suddenly nobody could agree on what to classify it as. Their ideas of the natural order started suddenly collapsing and being thrown into disarray.

Because of this little guy.

The Naturalist Science scene was going berserk halfway across the world because their fundamental understanding of nature was being turned on its head by this tiny mammal - who they were still trying to decide whether it was a mammal.

The English were having arguments with the French, but some were collaborating ideas based on what data they'd gained (some French and English naturalists met up in Australia during the war to share a drink and talk about Platypuses). Because this strange duck-billed creature surely had no place in the Chain of Being, their point of classification for species that they'd used for the past hundreds of years. And if it did, where the heck did it belong?

Did it lay eggs? How did it swim? What was the bill for? They didn't know the answer to any of these questions because all the specimens they got from Australia were Very Deceased, either being shot and put in spirits, or dried out. The poor platypus was being done in a lot for the sake of research.

And look, I know methods were Different back then, and it wasn't easy to transport live specimens or have the technology to preserve specimens over half the planet. With that said, I do want to point something out:

While this huge crisis is happening, in January 1812, a man named Patrick Hill gets the bright idea to like... ask the elder of the local Indigenous tribe about them (my source records him as Cookoogong, but not all sources about First Nations from early colonial texts are accurate.)

And Cookoogong's like "Oh, these guys? Yeah, so, they do lay eggs. They have long, deep burrows. We know how to get to them. There's a spur at the back of their feet. We don't really eat them for food. We call it the mullingong.*"(also malangong, depending on what tribe/dialect) Cool. Mystery solved.

Except:

It took over seventy years for this information to become accepted as scientific fact.

Not just because of the inherent biases of the Colonials being backwater people and prisoners in a funny little land far away, not just out of a need to get more data before confirmation, but because almost nobody in Europe took the word of the native population in Australia.

And in between that 72 year gap between 1812 and 1884, there were so many instances of the First Nations people giving vital and essential pieces of information on correctly identifying the features and habits of this land mammal as European Scientists had a massive meltdown and argument over whether an animal they'd Never Seen Alive gave milk or not.

Hell, Charles Darwin made the trip to Australia, and was inspired by animals like the Platypus to start questioning whether all life was truly static and didn't transition or adapt to changing circumstances.

The platypus made Charles Darwin start questioning his beliefs in Creationism, and going on to begin his steps towards the theory of evolution.

And then there's Harry Burrell, who had the bright idea of like, not killing specimens every time someone wanted to see it up close. He was one of the first recorded people to try and keep platypuses in captivity, and thoroughly learn their preferred lifestyle, diet and breeding habits from careful observation. He would learn how to make platypuses Comfortable, and how to transport them safely.

His protege, David Fleay (pictured below), would go on to ensure the first successfully bred platypus in captivity - 'Corrie' (born to parents Jack and Jill).

what I'm saying is, the story of trying to Classify the Platypus ends in "Nature is just fucking weird, we're going to try understanding it as best we can, and maybe we should ask and respect the opinions of the people who have lived alongside something we don't understand for thousands of years."

The platypus is literally referred to by Mervyn Griffiths, an authority on monotremes, "The animal of all time."

Anyway, in summary: - Colonialism fucking sucks and Sovereignty was never ceded.

- The Platypus is an Amazing Creature and sorta Toppled Creationism in the scientific community??

#th1nks #First Nations #Platypus #if anyone wants to fact check any of this please do because I wanna know more

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tmnt-crossover-polls · 10 months

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DOOM round 1 part 2

Rotten reflections summary : when strange movement in a pharmacy catch's Casey's eye one night, no one could have known the stress, panic and confusion the next few months would bring a turtle not in their right mind ends up in an unknown place with even more unknown threats lurking around every corner, with a hurt little one there's nothing he can do but what his mind screams.

When the world crumbles summary : Two months after the death of their master and the defeat of the Super Shredder, the 2012 turtles get news of another Kraang Invasion. So the turtles make a plan to storm Dimension X and take Kraang Prine down once and for all. However instead of ending up in Dimension X, the turtles end up in a much more neon, colorful dimension with no way to get back home and a full scale invasion on the horizon. Luckily they soon meet their much more colorful counterparts, who will help then get back home. Hopefully.

Atomic pets summary : after the events in the first episode mikey discovers a tiny reptile near the explosion, feeling bad and not wanting to leave it behind he decides to keep it, not realizing it was one of Draxum’s latest experiments. Hijinks ensue with the tiny reptile slow becoming not so tiny and harder to hide from his family, Mikey must learn to keep his atomic breathing giant reptile pet a secret from the rest of his family before they find out.

Not turtles forever 2 or is it summary : Taking place after the events in Turtles Forever and the Rise Movie, 03 Donatello wanted to make another Universal Transporter in order to discover different turtleverses, but something glitched with the machine, and the turtles from Universe 2018 ended up being thrown into Universe 2003 like a bunch of turtle rag dolls! All the turtles are a bit taken aback by their counterparts. The 03 turtles can't believe how strong and powerful the 2018 turtles are, and the 2018 Turtles are shocked at how distant the 03 turtles are from one another. After quite a few emotional talks, a battle or 2, and a plan to get 03 Usagi and Leonardo together, all the turtles soon start to rely on one another, and become about as close as one big mutated family could be! Only problem is, while attempting to get their turtles back, the Hamato clan in Universe 2018 might have ended up doing more harm then good while trying to locate Leo using his broken Odachi.

Lair meshing summary : After Draxum accidentally messes around with some of Splinter’s mystic artifacts, he accidentally merges the Rise Turtles’ reality with the 2012 reality. Now the two families are struggling to get along with versions of themself who understand them better than anyone else does. Leo causes problems on purpose, Donnie commits crimes, Michelangelo learns to cook and Mikey just wants his family to start getting along

Many names of hamato Leonardo summary : Leonardo believed that he was walking to his death when he tossed Casey into that portal. But someone else had something to say about that. A dimension away, a young Donatello wanders out of the lair when he should be taking a nap with his brothers. Never in a million years could he imagine exactly what his little adventure would lead him to. Or, future Rise Leo ends up in the 2003 universe, with no memory of arriving and no way home.

Once a hamato always a hamato summary : Leo gets trapped in the prison dimension only to get sent to the undertale multiverse a little while later. Leo gets changed into Error, the forced god of destruction. Years later he finds a way home! Now he has to get reacquainted with his family while as figuring out how to get his new friends to his world... And, figure out if the reason he was able to in the first place was due to some nefarious plot...

@nicoforlifetrue

@tmnt-obsessed-ace

@wandering-ghost

@lionalovit @poems-art-darkness-n-more

@just-a-lil-turtle-with-knives

@easterartist

#the polls #rotten reflections propaganda #when the world crumbles propaganda #atomic pets propaganda #forever meshing 2 propaganda #not turtles forever 2 or is it propaganda #lair meshing propaganda #many names of hamato leonardo propaganda #once a hamato always a hamato propaganda #tmnt crossover polls #ice dancing battle

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