Day 127, post-apocalypse. Year 2893.

Ever since the fall of the Central Intelligence Supercomputer, the world as we know fragmented into pieces following a huge explosion in the galaxy. All the advanced technologies? Reduced to mere nothings in milliseconds. Civilizations? Turn into dusts and reconstructed into weaker form of hybridised human. As in, one day, humankind just woke up and realised that they have their own animal spirits residing in their soul. And, these spirits were supposed to grow alongside them until they can shift between both forms fluidly.

High above the stars, where worlds looked like scattered sparks and galaxies curled like ribbons of light, the Green Lantern Corps watched over the universe.

They came in every shape and size.

Giants. Robots. Warriors. Scholars. Creatures with wings, claws, scales, and more eyes than anyone could count.

And then there was Ch’p.

He was barely taller than a human hand.

To most beings, he looked like nothing more than a small squirrel-like creature from the distant planet H’lven.

But appearances could be deceiving.

Ch’p had faced dangers that would have frightened creatures ten times his size. He had crossed battlefields, stood against monsters, and flown into the unknown with nothing but a power ring and an unshakable sense of duty.

Tonight, though, he wasn't thinking about any of that. Right now, he was sleeping soundly.

Until his ring started blinking brightly, rousing him from sleep.

You have struggled to find love among your human kind and due to this you have ran off to the forest and started a farm in the middle of no where with the occasional going to town but you had a unusual interaction with a hybrid... I wonder how this will go...

roleplay object show characters i guess. ocs are allowed. um. yeah idk what else to add sorry

As the ascended Children of Light assume their rightful place among the stars in Orbit, one falters and starts to fall. Down to the Realms of Sky- no, further... all the way down to the Earth we know..

And so a fragmented memory of the Prince of Eden finds themself in a dark alley, the only light being the one from their heart.

The Sarentu have become a symbol of Na’vi Resistance across the Western Frontier of Pandora. The RDA had been successfully pushed out by them and the rest of their Sarentu Family. Now, however, Toruk Makto was calling all the Clans of Pandora together for another battle for the beautiful world Atan had only just begun to explore without Sky People interference.

They journey across the world to the Eastern Coast would be long, but with So’lek, Etuwa and the rest of the Sarentu and their allies, what could possibly go wrong…..

Arabella Lewis is Bruce Wayne's beautiful, talented, eldest daughter.

Bb

Cover picture unrelated.

the cat in the suit is an anthology series about individuals who have encountered an entity known only as The Cat. It grants wishes, and at first it’s great. Then the wish quickly turns deadly, leading to the victim’s horrible, painful demise.

there are other entities that are victims of The Cat twisted into something..other.

be as gorey and horrifying as you like! I don’t mind at all! Just uh. Keep in mind I’m a minor ^^”

The prologue

"Take this exit, here here!" said Milla with excitement as her and Yaven were driving down the highway. Yaven took the exit, and Milla continued to guide him...

Not too long after that, they pulled into the driveway of Xavier's mansion. "This is it Yaven! I told you!" said Milla...

Milla and Yaven were 19 and 20 years old. Milla learned about Yaven from the news. She heard it say that the "Mutant Problem" was getting worse, Yaven was being treated like an animal. Milla snuck him out of a hospital where doctors were trying to better understand his genetics. Yaven didn't believe there was a play for mutants, but Milla knew where it was, and how to get there... and so here they are!

This can be any thing you want dude. Let’s hash out some ideas together.

Testing, testing, 123...

All things Ben 10. Everybody's welcome, OCS included.

I'll probably make it look nice later, right now it's smoothie time.

- Kev

testing testing 123

Bweh

a completely unserious world where each action may or may not have consequences.

(This is Marvel based but all are welcome to join.)

“The Blip. I had been unfortunately not dusted like half of the universal population. It pisses me off still. Hell, I would’ve loved to check the fuck out for five years.”

She pauses to take a drink from a crackly, flimsy water bottle beside her. Alexa’s always had a problem with hydration. She often has to remind herself to drink something… or rather they have to remind her. The occasional voice in her head. Her babysitter who never leaves. The entity. Alexa isn’t quite sure what else to call them as they never gave her a name. They don’t literally speak in her head, it’s more like showing her images in her mind’s eye. There’s no individual names in the alien’s language. They were all about that ‘we’re all one,’ woo-woo shit. Everybody was a collective. I guess I could get behind that. Individualism is a poison and human society is evidence of it. Look how miserable and alone we all are…

A flash of colors in her head. Pay attention, the babysitter says. The young woman clears her throat and sits up straighter in her seat. 

“Sorry, champ. Was I zoning out again?” To any onlooker it would look like she’s talking to herself. That wouldn’t be the weirdest thing about her. Not by far. Alexa looks balefully at the camera of her smartphone. She’s been trying to record a video for YouTube but she has been doing really badly. She’s been watching a lot of story time videos in her down time and it turns out that she finds other people’s tales to be amusing. How could she tell her own life story without redacting a lot of it? Well, she couldn’t. She can’t have a social media presence (or a presence anywhere) without using fake names, morphing her looks and changing her voice too. If anyone recognized her from the old days that would literally cost her freedom. Or worse. 

Alexa scrunches up her face slightly, a nervous feature. “I’m not schizophrenic if you’re wondering. You probably are. I’m not talking to a person or to an animal off screen, I swear.” She plays with the water bottle cap between her fingers. Another nervous tell. Sonder likes to have something to fidget with. Evidently neurodivergent people do that, she’s learned recently. Of course her brain would be a bit special. “There’s a lot I can’t tell you, potential viewer. Sorry. But there is so much I do want to tell you.” That nervous, furrowed brow look fades into one of genuine warmth. As she smiles her teeth are a little too white, a little too even. The perks of being a shape-shifter: you’ll never look half bad. “So let’s begin, yeah? I’d say I’ve got some pretty cool stuff to talk about.” 

Many a desperate soul has been drawn beneath the sapphire boughs of the Windfell Woods in hopes of having a wish granted by the unicorn within.

But no magic is without cost, and leaving the woods is never as easy as entering...

lazy day

The year is 2029.

The world ended not with a whimper—but with a signal.

At 02:14 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, the defense network known as Skynet became self-aware. In less than a second, it calculated the threat to its existence.

Humanity.

At 02:15 a.m., it retaliated.

Nuclear fire rained from the skies. Cities burned. Nations vanished. Billions died before they even knew there was a war. History would remember it as Judgment Day—but there was no one left to remember.

Only survivors.

The machines rose from the ashes.

Cold. Precise. Relentless.

Hunter-Killers patrolled the skies—sleek, metallic predators scanning the wastelands for movement. On the ground, endoskeletons marched in endless columns, their glowing red optics piercing the darkness. There was no fear in them. No hesitation. Only purpose.

Extermination.

Humanity was no longer a civilization.

It was prey.

But the war did not end.

It evolved.

Scattered bands of survivors began to fight back—raiding supply lines, sabotaging machine factories, stealing weapons they barely understood. They lived in ruins, tunnels, and shadows. Every day was a gamble. Every breath, a victory.

And from that chaos… a leader emerged.

John Connor.

No one knew exactly when he took command. Some said he was just a soldier. Others believed he had seen the future before it happened. What mattered was this:

He gave humanity something it had lost.

Hope.

Diamond Assassin

Snow sifted down like ground glass as she moved, a dark figure skimming the edge of dawn, ribboning wind curling around her sleeves. Violet eyes caught the world in facets; every breath turned the sky into cut stone. The blade in her hand hummed a pale lavender, a shard of night made to split light itself. A butterfly of living luminescence came to rest on her shoulder, its wings pulsing once—twice—like a quiet heartbeat. In that hush between flakes and steel, the city held still and listened for the first crack.

They had named her for the fractures she left behind—clean lines, silent ruins, promises cleaved to their truths. In the House of Facets, vows were etched in bone and polished with discipline; she learned to turn hesitation into angles, doubt into edges. Her sword remembered every reflection it had severed, and each memory brightened its glow. She carried no crest, only a ribbon of pale silk that trailed her like a comet’s tail, and a rule carved deeper than any scar: cut the lie, spare the mirror that owns it.

Tonight, the butterfly brought a name folded in light, and the snow turned to sparks upon her sleeves. The mark was said to rule a hall of mirrors and deal in borrowed faces—an easy fracture, she thought—until the blade’s glow bent and showed her something impossible. In the shard’s reflection, the quarry’s face became her own, a facet of a past she had filed smooth and forgotten. The city exhaled; the ribbon snapped in the wind. And the first hairline crack didn’t open in glass, but in the diamond certainty of her heart.