~🔞Evolution's End🔞

🔞(!Warning!)🔞 We Are Creating A MANGA So FUCKED That It NEEDS Its OWN PLATFORM! | 🌱What Started @VELSDSTUDI0 🌎 😮

[Seth Halliburton @SethHalliburton]

It is One Week Until The First Of The Weekly Journey Vlogs Start Releasing!

And 3 Days Until The First Stream

I Can’t Wait to Show You What We Have Been Working On And Will See You There✊💚

(Turn On Notifications To Be The First In Streams🔔)

[Seth Halliburton @SethHalliburton]

Just Got Done Recording 3 HOURS Of Content!

We Are Back In The Game.

I Love You Guys, Let’s Get This Shit✊🫵
And You CAN DO IT!

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

8-Bit Friday 🖥️💫🌃

Temple Kush hits... and suddenly you're back watching that Windows 98 screensaver.

The pipes build forever. The maze never ends. Time doesn’t exist. You are the screensaver.

Whatever happened to that kind of peace?
That quiet, glowing nothing?

Which one do you still see when you close your eyes?

#8BitFriday
#ScreensaverStateOfMind
#OmGrown

[•UtilityCo @The_Utility_Co]

https://t.co/MaX22qPvQ1

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

The two of them stood still—shadows tangled in fog, neither moving, neither blinking.

Verdant’s grip tightened on the hilt beneath his coat, but he didn’t draw.

Not yet.

The air between them felt elastic, stretching thinner with every heartbeat.

Somewhere behind the clouds, thunder growled low—long and hungry.

The younger Verdant smiled wider at the sound, like he was in on a joke Verdant hadn’t caught yet.

The spiral pulsed again beneath his boots, slower this time, almost reluctant.

Verdant swallowed against the thickness in his throat.
The fog pressed closer—too close—curling into his lungs.

Another flicker—
This time not memory.
This time something worse.

The double wasn’t the only figure now.

Out of the swirling mist came others—shadows shaped like people he almost remembered.

The girl with paint-stained hands.
A figure in a white lab coat, arms crossed, disappointed.
An old man with a broken data-slate, muttering.

Their faces were blurred, featureless, half-formed—but he knew the weight of them.
Choices he hadn't made.
Promises he hadn't kept.
Roots of himself, tangled and rotting.

Their mouths moved.

And this time—he heard them.

"You said you wouldn't forget."
"You promised."
"Coward."
"You left us."

Verdant staggered a half-step back, the voices peeling at the edges of his mind like old paint curling from a forgotten wall.

He blinked hard.
The shadows vanished.

Only the double remained.

But he was laughing now.
Low. Cruel. Unhurried.
As if he’d been waiting to see the exact moment Verdant cracked.

"You never make it this far," the double sneered, his voice sharper now, each word cutting through the mist like a blade.
"You get scared. You hide behind your promises. You dress up running as surviving."

Verdant’s knuckles whitened around the hilt.

The mocking smile grew wider.

"You think this time will be different?"
"You think you'll finish it just because you limped a few steps farther?"

The rain hissed louder, slicing through the silence like needles.

The double took another step forward—calm, lazy, inevitable.

At his side, he drew a blade—but not to attack.
Just to show it.
To remind Verdant what was waiting if he stayed.

"Not this time," Verdant said.
The words felt like someone else's mouth had shaped them first.

The double tilted his head again, considering.
Rain hissed against the metal around them.

"Then show me."

His hand moved—too fast to track.

Verdant tensed, ready to draw—
And then froze.

Because the weapon the younger version pulled wasn’t drawn against him.
It was simply held.
At his side.
Waiting.
Offering.
Daring.

The platform underfoot creaked, strained.

The storm above cracked again, splitting the sky into rivers of green and violet light.

The spiral pulsed once more.

Verdant stared across the catwalk at the thing that wore his face—and knew it was asking a question he hadn’t been ready to answer the last time he stood here.

If he ever had.

Drop your thoughts below—what do you do when the only way forward demands facing the worst parts of yourself without looking away? 🌱🌀⚡

"Sometimes the fight isn't against the past. It's against the part of you that never left it."

As always… stay safe out there, wanderers.

#Cyberpunk
#OmGrown
#NewMexico

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

Verdant didn’t move.

Neither did the double.

The spiral throbbed beneath his boots,
syncing with the slow, uneven rhythm of his heartbeat.

The rain thickened,
streaking the catwalk in shimmering green and violet rivers.
Thunder cracked above them,
painting both figures in ghostlight.

The double smiled wider—
not mockery now.
Something colder.
Something patient.

The blade he held dripped rainwater onto the metal floor,
each drop hissing like acid.

Behind him,
the shadows moved again.

The paint-stained girl.
The muttering old man.
The figure in the white lab coat.

They didn’t advance.
They didn’t retreat.

They just watched—
silent,
expectant,
broken pieces of a life Verdant had spent too long outrunning.

Their mouths moved without sound now,
looping words he didn’t want to hear
but already knew by heart.

"You were supposed to save us."
"You promised."
"You ran."

The double tilted his head at the shadows,
almost fondly.

"They remember," he said softly.
"Even if you don't."

Verdant shifted his stance.

His hand hovered at the hilt.

The storm raged overhead,
but here—
on this narrow strip of metal—
everything felt still.

Every part of him screamed to act.

Draw.
Strike.
Move.

But the spiral beneath him pulsed again—
once—
and something inside his chest cracked.

He remembered standing here before.

Not in this life.
Not in this moment.

But in a fracture of time so old
it had forgotten how to end.

He had been here.
He had faced this.
And he had turned away.

The realization hit like a blade slipping between ribs.

The double saw it.

And smiled.

"You remember," he whispered.
"Good."

He raised the blade slightly—
not to strike.
To salute.
To beckon.

Verdant inhaled,
feeling the weight of rain,
the weight of memory,
the weight of a decision far older than the storm above them.

One step forward.

One choice.

Drop your thoughts below—
when you realize you are the architect of your own ruin,
do you rebuild…
or burn it all down? 🌱🌀⚔️

"Sometimes you don't defeat the past. Sometimes you become the weapon it always needed you to be."

As always… stay safe out there, wanderers.

#Cyberpunk
#Synthwave
#OmGrown

[ARCADIA @ArcadiaTribe]

10 minutes until the first stream
Live on a space with the camera on
Pull up — we’re building from scratch ✊🌎💚💪😮‍💨

https://t.co/7mnBUYycpQ

[•UtilityCo @The_Utility_Co]

https://t.co/5fDH80sx1y

[•VELSDSTUDIO @VELSDSTUDI0]

We Push Limits & We Don’t Care, Cry Pussies

Pixel’s Journey
(Mixed Media Animation) 2025

Evolutions End (Manga) 2025

BTS W/ @SethHalliburton & @BenjiDaMangaka (Animated Vlogs) 2025

_______ (Gag Manga) 2025

[•UtilityCo @The_Utility_Co]

https://t.co/KnsfHnjeVb

[~🔞Evolution's End🔞 @Evolutions__End]

@anime_twits Death😂

[~🔞Evolution's End🔞 @Evolutions__End]

@omgrownm @OsirisProtocol1 @lochnesssociety

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

💎 8-Bit Friday: Legends of the Hidden Temple Vibes Only

Blue Barracudas. Silver Snakes. That terrifying talking head Olmec. If you grew up watching Legends of the Hidden Temple, you know the thrill of the Temple Run—and the trauma of the Shrine of the Silver Monkey.

This Friday, we’re throwing it back to aggro crag energy, slime-filled trivia, and the ultimate test of childhood agility… while comfortably high on the couch.

What team were you repping back in the day—and what strain would fuel your Temple Run today?
Drop it below, brave adventurers. ⬇️

#8BitFriday
#90sNostalgia
#OmGrown

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

Verdant stood before the monument, rain sliding down the shattered glass dome above. Bioluminescent leaves shimmered around him, casting slow, rippling light across the synthstone slab.

“Final vault access requires spoken key…”

He closed his eyes, trying to summon it.

But the name was gone—buried deep beneath neural partitions and half-erased memory scars. All that remained was sensation: soil between fingers, the scent of a bloom untouched by time, the hum of something sacred being hidden away.

He knew the strain. Not by name, but by feel. The way its leaves curled at the edges. The scent—earthy, electric, alive. It was part of him.

But the name?

Gone.
Stripped when they took everything else.

The Archivist stood beside him, silent, waiting.

Verdant opened his eyes.
“No,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”

The Archivist glanced over. “You don’t remember?”

He shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said. “And if I say the wrong thing... I don’t want this place exposed.”

He stepped back from the terminal. The glyphs pulsed once more—almost disappointed—then slowly dimmed.

“I built this place to outlive me,” Verdant murmured. “If I force it open now, it won’t.”

The Archivist nodded. “Then we bury it again. Let it sleep until the name comes back.”

Verdant knelt beside one of the glowing stalks—Aurora Verdance—and traced its stem with a calloused fingertip.

“The Syndicate doesn’t know it’s here,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He reached into his coat and pulled a small, non-synced ceramic blade. With care, he clipped a single leaf—glowing with soft pink and green veins—and sealed it into a bio-pouch.

Then he stood, exhaling slowly.
“When I remember it, I’ll come back.”

He reached up, pulled a faded scarf from his shoulder—woven with old resistance thread—and draped it over the console. A signal for anyone who might stumble upon it later. Or for himself, if time warped too far.

The Archivist gave a single nod.

And they left.

They walked together through the garden, careful not to disturb the roots. At the tram’s edge, Verdant lit a fresh joint from the same vine-wrapped torch that had greeted them on arrival.

Before stepping aboard, he turned one last time toward the monument.

“This isn't goodbye. You've waited this long — what's a little longer.” he whispered.

The tram hissed, sealing them in, and with a low hum, it vanished into the fog.

The vault remains sealed.
The name is still lost.
But for now, the truth is safe. 🌱💨🌫️

"Some memories take root slowly. But they grow all the same."

Drop your thoughts below—is Verdant running from the past, or growing toward it?

As always… stay safe out there, wanderers.

#OmGrown
#SantaFe
#NewMexico

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

🌱 Fresh Drop Monday: Clone Sale Starts Now! 💥

Looking to level up your grow? Now’s your chance—premium clones are on sale starting today! Limited cuts, healthy roots, and genetics you can trust.

Whether you’re a home grower or a pheno hunter, we’ve got the green to get you growing.
First come, first served. Don’t sleep on this drop!

Drop a “CLONE” in the comments if you want to reserve yours. ⬇️

#GrowYourOwn
#SantaFe
#NewMexico

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

📱 8-Bit Friday: Phones Were Cooler Back Then 📟

Smartphones today all look basically the same—flat, glass rectangles. Back in the early 2000s, phones flipped, slid, swiveled, and came in wild colors and styles!

What’s the most unique or coolest phone you remember from that era? Drop your pick below! ⬇️

#8BitFriday
#BringBackCreativePhones
#OmGrown

[~🔞Evolution's End🔞 @Evolutions__End]

Shits moving

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

What music is helping you get through the Wednesday Hump?

#Cannabis
#SantaFe
#NewMexico

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

It���s Thursday, the weekend is in sight—time to spark up! How are you consuming today?

🔥 Joint 🚬
🔥 Blunt 💨
🔥 Bong 🌬️
🔥 Pipe 🍂
🔥 Dab 😶‍🌫️

#Cannabis
#SantaFe
#NewMexico

[•TSP Om @omgrownm]

You can only watch ONE stoner movie for the rest of time. Which one are you choosing? 🎥🔥

🍍 Pineapple Express
🌱 Half Baked
🛸 Dazed & Confused
😂 How High

Or do you have another all-time favorite? Drop your pick in the comments! ⬇️

#Cannabis
#SantaFe
#NewMexico