A universe-hopping Charizard, created from the infinite energy of fusing Absolite and Charizardite Y. My feet are your heavens~. (IC Account of @AbbottAbsol).
@SpelktheDragon Oh, I have found them before.
They come in three factions: those that idolize me enough to worship the ground they live on, those that are resilient after their planet’s destruction, and the malicious few that want to slay me.
All have the same answer: A firm sole-curl~. :3
I've been gone for quite a while, but I'd like to breathe a little bit of life into this dusty old account.
So, feel free to ask me anything. You all get one free question to ask a god. Choose your question wisely~. :3
@AlanBlackstrom Those that do me enough service, such as selling out your world to become a toy for me, or gifting me a tasteful galactic armada, may be granted the privilege of being noticed by me. You will earn a coveted place within my toe-ring's gem, in utopia, for your sacrifice for me~. :3
@AlanBlackstrom Hmmm...well, if you're referring to slaves, worshipers, the dust that bows before my sky-filling soles...it depends.
You're all so small, I assume anything can happen. Have you ever stepped near particles of dust and watched them blow away in the wind? It's kind of like that. :3
@FlyFeline Mhm~, your praise is well-appreciated.
I'll allow you to kiss my toe-ring before I use it to imprint the inscription beneath it on your largest continent.
@PaintedDurian My "work" is actually not just discovering new planets. It's analyzing them and deciding if they're worthy of continuing their progression. If they're aware of being too self-destructive, or too inefficient, they become part of my "life" category.
My "life" is the fun stuff~. :3
(Hello, this is Abbott. I'm extremely sorry for the lack of updates here; my thirst as a macro has dropped significantly over the course of these few months. I've been really stressed out from work and I haven't had the drive to post here. I'll try to remedy that in the future.)
Hmm~, seems I've passed another Earthen year in age.
This calls for celebration. I demand that you all make some kind of sweet for me. Leave it on the largest landmass you have and I'll touch my tongue to it. Whether I lap up the rest of your planet or not depends on the taste~.
That level of dexterity takes a LOT of practice; I may be a god, but you don’t become amazing at it in a day.
There are many failed attempts whose shattered remnants were slingshotted across the universe for all to see. Quite embarrassing, but practice does make perfect~.
Is there anything more devilishly alluring then twirling a marble-sized planet of worshipers between the gravitational pulls of my fingers? Just out of reach, tossing them around an unnatural orbit that threatens their entire way of life?
Only one thing: that, but with my toes~.
Is there anything more devilishly alluring then twirling a marble-sized planet of worshipers between the gravitational pulls of my fingers? Just out of reach, tossing them around an unnatural orbit that threatens their entire way of life?
Only one thing: that, but with my toes~.
I should pay them a visit~.
Maybe, on the eve of their new solar cycle, I'll let my toes dip into visibility. Let those fat digits stretch and wiggle over their skies, give a flash of the toe-ring, and then vanish for another century or two. Let them sort out that information~.
Getting "small" enough to stomp my foot into the curvature of a planet. I come back a couple centuries later and see that they've built a mountain utopia atop the "HEAVY" imprint left by my toe-ring. Their heads of science and religion dub "HEAVY" to be a word meaning "rebirth".
The "HEAVY" inscription made from the negative space in my toe-ring is a city of mites, assembled in the name of unity for surviving the calamitous event that was my step. It's rather flattering~.
Rebuilding their best atop the footprint that split and buckled their crust. Mhm~.
*My star-quenching tongue passes over my lips and slurps up the last remnants of your galaxy into my gaping maw. A single pinprick of light, your world, is all that's left in a void of starless night and orange pudge.*
You said to leave your world alone, so I ate around you~.
Whether it be eating them all over again, shrinking down and stomping them in a more "personal" size, or going the time-honored way:
Putting the dot you call a planet in between my fat toes and curling them nice and tight, until all that's left is a warm, molten mass in the gap.
*My star-quenching tongue passes over my lips and slurps up the last remnants of your galaxy into my gaping maw. A single pinprick of light, your world, is all that's left in a void of starless night and orange pudge.*
You said to leave your world alone, so I ate around you~.
Think about how lucky must you be to be spared from me. I'll tell you: immensely.
I typically only spare the ones that have proven their existence is beneficial to the universe, but sometimes, I like to leave a few crumbs lying around so I can rediscover them and toy with them~.
It's a testament to that theory when you know that I can't stand being "small" for too long. It's like compressing a spring for a long time.
Eventually, I need to expand. And by Me, I expand~.
But it's fine. Your galaxy will be found between my toes one of these days...or not~.
Some mortals look up to teramacros as if they were deities. Their size and weight grants them free reign to most of the forces of nature.
Actual deities put them to shame, showing off true, unbound power.
I dig those "actual deities" out from beneath my toeclaws by the dozens~.
It's one thing to call yourself a god based on size alone; it's another to call yourself a god based on power alone. You need both, mites~.
Being big with no power makes you like glass, and being small with some power makes you like a rubber bullet. But me? I'm a wrecking ball~.