#MUSHROOM AND RAIN WORLD IN ONE ASK

[mushroominaforest]

What mushroom is artificer

Definitely something poisonous!

My initial reaction was to go for most deadly mushroom in the world- The Death Cap (Amanita phalloides)

But the colouration doesn’t really fit, so probably not. There is always the Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria), which is a poisonous red mushroom, but… it’s this one lol: ���

the pop culture surrounding that Mushroom is too cheerful for our favourite murderous girlie pop, so that’s also a no.

I think the Satan’s Bolete (Rubroboletus satanas) could fit pretty well, being poisonous, and partially red, however there is one mushroom that I think works best.

The Poison Fire Coral (Trichoderma cornu-damae) mushroom!

It’s entirely bright red, is poisonous even to the touch which is very rare for a mushroom, causes horrific and violent symptoms, and has fire in the name! Perfect for Arti, if you ask me.

Artificer is the Poison Fire Coral!!!

[the-oblivious-writer]

A Loving Distraction

Wednesday Addams x Reader

One-shot

Summary: Wednesday attempts what’s meant to be a study session, but being the distraction you are, you had other plans in mind.

Warning(s): kissing, established relationship, and no pronouns

Notes: dedicated to @101rizzlrr - ask and I shall deliver

You stare at your phone, thumb hovering over the text you're about to send to Wednesday. The message reads: "Meet me in the library? Promise to actually study this time."

The memory of your last "study session" brings a smile to your face. You'd spent more time debating the merits of different torture methods throughout history than actually reviewing for finals. Not that you minded - Wednesday's passionate defense of the rack over the iron maiden had been oddly endearing.

Your phone buzzes with her reply: "Bold of you to imply I was the distraction last time. But fine. West wing, third floor. Don't be late."

Twenty minutes later, you're climbing the worn stone steps of Nevermore Academy's library. The afternoon light filters through the Gothic windows, casting long shadows across the floor. You spot Wednesday at her usual table, surrounded by a fortress of leather-bound books. She's wearing her signature black dress, white collar crisp and perfect despite the late hour.

"You're four minutes late," she says without looking up from her notes.

"I brought a peace offering." You place a steaming cup of black coffee - no sugar, no cream - next to her elbow. "And I was delayed by Principal Weems giving her weekly lecture about proper uniform length to some poor first year."

"Excuses." But she takes the coffee, and you catch the slight softening around her eyes that passes for a smile in Wednesday's world. "I assume you're here because you're still struggling with Advanced Poisons?"

You slide into the chair across from her, pulling out your own textbook. "Some of us didn't grow up taste-testing deadly nightshade."

"Your loss. Mother always said it builds character." She reaches for your notebook, scanning your latest attempts at categorizing toxic fungi. "Your classification system is almost painfully wrong. Look at this - you've put death caps under 'slow-acting.' They can kill within 48 hours."

"Not everyone shares your enthusiasm for mortality rates," you tease, leaning closer to see where she's marking corrections in precise red ink. Her hair smells faintly of rain and graveyard dirt - a scent you've come to associate with comfort, oddly enough.

"Clearly. Which is why you need my help." She pauses, dark eyes flickering to yours. "Though I suppose there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than ensuring you don't accidentally poison yourself with basic mushroom identification."

"Aw, you do care."

"Don't be ridiculous." But her knee bumps yours under the table, and stays there.

The next hour passes in a comfortable rhythm of studying and bickering. Wednesday corrects your work with cutting efficiency, while you try to distract her by suggesting increasingly outlandish uses for non-lethal poisons. ("Think about it - just enough to make the entire school board mildly nauseated during budget meetings.")

"Focus," she chides, but there's amusement lurking in her voice. "Unless you want to explain to your parents why you failed this semester."

"They'd understand. I'd just tell them I was distracted by my brilliant, beautiful girlfriend who happens to be a walking encyclopedia of death."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She turns a page with deliberate precision. "And that's not even close to my most impressive quality."

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. "Oh? Do tell."

"I can name at least fifteen ways to incapacitate someone with items found in this library alone." Her eyes meet yours, challenging. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Tempting, but I think the librarian is still mad about last time." You reach across the table, fingers brushing her wrist. "Besides, I can think of better uses for our time."

Wednesday arches an eyebrow. "Can you now?"

The tension shifts, electric and familiar. You stand slowly, walking around the table until you're beside her chair. She turns to face you, expression unreadable but for the slight catch in her breath when you lean down.

"Much better uses," you murmur, and then you're kissing her. Her lips are cool against yours, tasting of coffee and secrets. One of her hands finds its way to your collar, pulling you closer with that controlled intensity that is so uniquely Wednesday.

You break apart at the sound of footsteps approaching, though you don't go far. Wednesday's normally pale cheeks have the faintest hint of color, and you can't help feeling a bit smug about that.

"That was…" she starts.

"Distracting?" you offer with a grin.

"Entirely inappropriate for a study session." But she's fighting a smile now, the real kind that makes her look almost human. "We have an exam tomorrow."

"True." You brush a strand of dark hair from her face. "But I'd argue that was an excellent practical demonstration of biological responses to stimuli."

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but she's definitely smiling now. "Your scientific method needs work."

"Then I suppose we'll need more practice." You gesture to the towering shelves around you. "We have the whole library."

"You're impossible." She stands, gathering her books with precise movements. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To find somewhere more private for your… research." She gives you a look that makes your heart skip. "Unless you'd rather stay here and actually study?"

You grab your bag, already following her toward the stacks. "Lead the way."

-----------

A/N: nice little one-shot before I post more angst

[soracities]

"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

[enchanted-wildflower]

On animism

One of my teachers at university told us something today, that I believe to be relevant to animism and therefore also witchcraft:

He explained that in the West we see everything as occurences, whereas in some languages the same happenings are described as actions. Meaning that in the West we tend to imply that there is no agency involved in whatever happens, while some other languages tend to imply that someone activily causes things. His example was that in the West rain is understood as something that just happens, no one causes the rain. Whereas in Mesoamerica it was believed that it rained because some god was crying.

While the idea of a literal crying god causing it to rain on earth might be outdated, I find it really interesting how these two perspectives - events vs. actions - might shape our relationship with the world. If rain is not just an occurence, but someone acting with agency, rain becomes another part of the community we live in. The community then doesn't only consist of humans anymore, but of everything that surrounds us. Suddenly there are all these new players that actively affect your life with their actions. Other-than-human persons that you can interact with and with whom you have to keep a friendly relationship. If the tree in front of your house isn't just an object, but a being with agency, you actually have to be at least respectful and might even want to build a relationship with them, get to know them, learn from them.

I think that's really the core of animism. Descriptions of animism are often reduced to the believe that everything has a soul, but I think believe doesn't even factor into it. You don't need to believe that there is a non-physical aspect to rain, mountains, stones. It's about how we interact with them. I don't even have to ask myself the question if the tree in front of my house has a soul in order to learn about and from them or to interact with them. In my opinion animism is something that is done, not thought or believed. It's a perspective.

Listening to my teacher also reminded me of the following part of Braiding Sweetgrass (great book btw) which explains all this really well:

A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa - to be a bay - releases the water from bondage and lets it live. "To be a bay" holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive. Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms. This is the lan- guage I hear in the woods; this is the language that lets us speak of what wells up all around us.

[...]

This is the grammar of animacy. [...] In English, we never refer to a member of our family, or indeed to any person, as it. That would be a profound act of disrespect. It robs a person of selfhood and kinship, reducing a person to a mere thing. So it is that in Potawatomi and most other indigenous languages, we use the same words to address the living world as we use for our family. Because they are our family.

To whom does our language extend the grammar of animacy? Naturally, plants and animals are animate, but as I learn, I am discovering that the Potawatomi understanding of what it means to be animate diverges from the list of attributes of living beings we all learned in Biology 101. In Potawatomi 101, rocks are animate, as are mountains and water and fire and places. Beings that are imbued with spirit, our sacred medicines, our songs, drums, and even stories, are all animate. The list of the inanimate seems to be smaller, filled with objects that are made by people.

[...]

The language reminds us, in every sentence, of our kinship with all of the animate world.

- Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants (2013), p. 78-80.

[sherryclover]

“It’s like I’m alive but not alive at the same time..”

The magicless prefect who resides in Ramshackle. Vi DeViller is a responsible and aloof girl, who despite coming off as mean has quite a soft heart once you get to know her more.

Age: 17-18 (guess)

Gender/pronouns: She/it

Height: 165cm (5'4ft)

Birthday: 8/18

Nicknames: vi-ifer (?), Shrimpy / Koebi-chan (Floyd), Trickster (Rook)

Dominant Hand: right

Best subject: Musicology

Club: ???

Hobbies: studying sea creatures, Sketching, cross-stitching

Family: “I think I had a brother..? I don’t remember.”

Homeland: Earth (Canada moved to Japan)

Likes: the rain, jellyfishes, games

Dislikes: bugs

Favorite food: Croissants , Sandwiches

Least Favorite food: Mushroom Pizza.

Voice claim: Madoka Higuchi [Shiny Colors]

Oc facts

Vi was an idol before coming to twst, (being an Idol was quite tiring so she’s quite glad she can take a break in this world.)

Vi likes to research about different types of sea creatures in her freetime

She’s supposed to be dead.

Vi loves jellyfishes quite a lot, wishing to be one in another life.

Likes knitting little jellyfishes when she’s bored

Would wear top hats 24/7 if she could

Backstory

As a Child Vi has always been quite lonely. Most of the times standing alone in a play ground full of happy little kids, or by her mom’s side, listening to the grown ups compare their children.

Vi has always been envious of the kids who can make friends easily, why couldn’t that be her? A question she would always ask herself.

The children in her neighborhood/school found her not really enjoyable to be around with her personality. Always trying to avoid her, making up lies and such.

“Am I not a fun person to be around..? Why won’t you be my friend? What else do I have to do for you to play with me..!”

1am…tired raaa

Full body:

Divider

[mi-i-zori]

A Tiny World - 2

CoD - 141 x Snail (OC/Fem!Reader)

SYNOPSIS : Stardew Valley time with Snail, Gaz and Price.

Warnings : None. But please read the Author’s Note below.

Author’s Note : Snail is an OC that can be read as a Fem!Reader - I do my best no to describe her too much, but may sometimes say that she’s small (height) and has long hair.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

OC Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A Little Snail Under the Rain - Masterlist

Aside from Animal Crossing, Snail really likes playing Stardew Valley.

Actually, scratch that. She loves it.

She bought the guide to make sure her farm is as efficient as possible. She planned it all thoroughly, from the kind she chose at the very beginning, to the animals and crops she wanted the have, where she would put them, and so on.

She’s got a part of her land fully dedicated to mystic trees associated with mushroom logs, because it wouldn’t be her farm if she didn’t make a gargantuan amount of profit based on them mushies.

The chickens, ducks and dinosaurs are all on one side of the road situated at the bottom of her farm, while the cows, goats and pigs are on the other side. All the tools she needs to make cheese, mayonnaise and dried resources are placed right next to each other, not far from the ponds. All the products she makes are close to a selling box, so she can sell everything right after collecting it.

She’s working really hard to offer tons of void mayonnaise to Kroby so she can ask them to be her roommate. For now, she’s got a cat named Mochi that’s always sleeping on her bed and proudly wears a green top hat she got on St Patrick’ Day.

Believe it or not, Price loves to watch her play. The whole setting of the game reminds him of the time he used to spend at his grandparent’s farm in the English countryside, all those years ago. He remembers helping them with all kind of crops and animals, and running across their land and the nearby village with other children his age. Good, simpler times.

He also has to admit that the way she organises her findings in the museum by colours is extremely satisfying to watch. And seeing her get all excited when she finally finds something new to add to her collection is also pretty endearing.

She also got Gaz to play too !

They help each other out with their farm - they’ve become pros at it, at this point. Both their greenhouses are filled to the brim with ancient fruits, which immediately go into an army of kegs to be brewed into wine. They make plans on how to deals with the upcoming seasons together.

They also switch consoles to help each other with the tasks they like the least. Snail isn’t really fond of going into the mines - she’d rather enjoy the rainy days and go fish and forage all around the game. Kyle, however, enjoys doing challenges into the mine more that running around trying to look for resources. So they efficiently help each other to level up and fill the chests on their farms with everything they need, sprawled on top of each other on their beds in a comfortable silence.

They rule over every single event in the game.

And they absolutely love gossiping about the characters - to the point that other soldiers on base think they’re actually saying mad shit about real people.

They don’t bother correcting them. Their confused faces as they realise they’ve been talking about marrying or divorcing three people in the same week make it all worth it.

It gets a good chuckle out of the team.

[shithowdy]

can we ask about those fallout ocs from the trailer?????? i wanna know about everybody 👀

Hello anon have a seat beside me

Thank you for asking about them!! 'Trailer' bears such heavy implications of a followup project and while I can dream... well, I can dream. 🥲

The characters are from an ongoing RP I am doing with @ninamodaffari and @sakom75 that takes place a few years before New Vegas. It surrounds the personal story of our main three guys unraveling their extremely fateful connections, while at the same time being the origin story of our setting's Courier Six as a recurring antagonist.

Some character blurbs! I tried to make these brief but I failed.

The cowboy ghoul is my boy Oliver, who began as a cowboy death knight in world of warcraft back in 2009 (who remains my avatar, my brannnnd). His past as a paladin now living a life as a near-immortal deformed ex-human at risk of losing his mind at any moment translated so well into the setting. After being forced into retirement from his 30-year army career due to a "medical discharge" (had a heart attack inside power armor after being given experimental stimulant drugs) he returned to his roots and bought a ranch, which is where he was when the bombs fell. After he and his employees failed to drive their herd toward a radio signal calling for mutual aid due to the radstorm that began his ghoulification, he instead rode west through the desert to begin his completely delusional quest to find the resting place of his son, who he only knew was in a non-vault-tec vault around Southern California. He was obviously stymied by the impossibility of it, and eventually became a nameless fixture of the wasteland along the I-10, with the recent nickname of 'Matador' by locals due to his skirmishing with the Legion operating out of the growing Fort Blythe.

Dallas (larger, in coat) and Emil (little guy) belong to Sako and Nina respectively. Dallas was born to a Legion officer in the faction's infancy and was raised to be a brutal killer at a young age, which made his eventual defection as a teenager very easy. He surrendered himself to a ranger named Sancho, who after it became clear he was a true defector ended up "adopting" him and helping him integrate and, eventually, become a ranger himself. While dodging bounties offered by his father, his goal is to find his mother and, after he was swept away in the Colorado a few years ago, Sancho-- he does not believe him to be dead. (He's correct)

Due to his search, he tries to take a lot of solo scouting missions to cover as much ground as he can, and it's on one of these missions he met Emil near the central coast while pursuing some fiends with a captive. Emil had recently emerged from an underground facility further north with only the name E412, a mutant resulting from very similar experiments to those from Vault 4 except with the purpose of manufacturing psykers in what was supposed to be some kind of new world governance scheme but flopped with the bombs. Except the robots overseeing it weren't programmed to consider the bombs, and kept the scientists that had previously been tricked into working there on orders even when there wasn't a world left. Also, the program was nonsense and relied on harvested DNA from a dwindling staff. Most of the staff died by their own hand, resulting in the on-and-off cryo cycling of those that remained, leaving them frostbitten husks with numerous replaced parts working for an impossible goal. They conspired secretly to end the facility, but it was difficult. One such place to drop notes was near the composting area, where one could even at times hear rain through the vents. A scientist one day found mushrooms growing here, and introduced them into his process just for something different.

He didn't expect it to work.

Oliver was wrong, his son Chadley was not in southern California. He had been tricked with hundreds of others into a new contract of secrecy, and before he could communicate his fear aboveground, the world ended. His death was not two hundred years ago but mere weeks, when he finally sent the facility into shutdown, leaving the creatures there to fend for themselves against the robot overseers. E412 escaped at last, only to find a bag on his head. After being rescued by Dallas, he was given a proper name and it was insisted he tag along.

Weeks later the pair found themselves sheltering from a hunting party after Dallas: mercenaries on Legion hire, accompanied by a Centurion and his own party. A convergence of fates had them shelter in the Matador's home of all places, and after reversing a staunch refusal to help them when he realized helping them = annoying the Legion, he agreed to guard and guide them so they could get to a Followers base in Arcadia so Dallas could get some shrapnel from a prior assassination attempt removed. In charge of this base is Dr. Wei Song, another of Oliver's young wasteland rescues from decades before and the only person he has a continued relationship with.

But rejecting extended companionship, Oliver left them at Arcadia after having barely learned about them and went home, where the same failed assassin that left shrapnel in Dallas waited for him in the rafters with a dartgun full of RadAway. This was Frumentarius Lupus Rex, who was supposed to be kind of a one-off dollar store Vulpes Inculta (which says a lot i know) for our own plot but got oops'd into being a real character when he showed a smidgen of honor and Oliver, his captive, asked him his "real name".

Thus began the conflict of Lupus Rex vs. Vasco Sawtooth, the tribal boy repressing years of trauma and hate for the sake of simply surviving. He realized, like Dallas, there are other options and resolved to undo what happened but was caught by his superior, Princeps Peregrinorum Scaevola, and lost his arm in the process.

A former Brotherhood paladin who valued power more than the Brotherhood's goals, Scaevola defected when he saw the Legion growing in power as a "tribe" and knew he could secure a position he could abuse there much more easily. Which he did, by throwing himself at Caesar's feet with a whole host of energy weapons/ammo/powerfists. While remaining loyal he did retain old connections (and made new ones, such as a close friendship with Dallas' father Viator) and with these connections he had his traitorous pet "remade", rank stripped, left nothing but a living weapon operating outside the bounds of typical Legion method.

Kind of the Shadow to Emil's sonic, he pursues without choice until the favor is finally able to be returned. We haven't gotten to this point in the RP yet, but eventually he will find his freedom and guidance under Francine, a [redacted] recently emerged from cryo and rather than following operations destroyed her facility and started a diner.

Through her he'll learn how to function like a normal person and, eventually, find a job of his own as a courier. A nice, normal, easy job.

If you read all that I'm kissing you with tongue.

[yuri-is-online]

Jade would be VERY pleased about finally having another club member. I would be happy to listen to him info dump while we look at mushrooms and neat nature stuff.

I let this sit in my ask box for too long but I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while and then harveston had to go and drop that one line validating my delusions and you've given me an excuse to post it ha

notes: they/them used for Yuu, violence against animals (a bear), swearing at animals (the same bear), Yuu is unnaturally strong (enough to fight a bear), Yuu is implied to have grown up in a forest/woodsy environment, Jade typical blackmail. Other more serious fic can be found on my masterlist here.

Once upon a time, back when you first arrived in this world, you had been unsure how to feel about NRC. Castles existed back home, sure, but ones like this belonged firmly in illustrations or video games; it felt a but nauseating to walk through your wildest dreams brought to life, even if it was exciting sometimes. It was little wonder to you then that the idea of a Mountain Lover's Club was so appealing.

"Did you hike a lot back home?" Trey has that strange smile on his face that suggests you have made him tense somehow.

"Yes. I practically grew up in the woods." The flow of wind through the branches, the smell of fresh rain on the decomposing earth below, all of it wrapped you in a familiar sense of serenity even if the tree line was completely foreign to you. What are men to rocks and mountains after all? You could make yourself right at home here-

"I still don't think you should join." Trey says with all the air of a man who is certainly not telling you something, but the surprising harsh nod of agreement Riddle gives before injecting himself into the conversation convinces you more than whatever Trey had in mind likely could.

"I'm not entirely certain what they do," Riddle has never forbid you from participating in things since you and his dorm-mates brought him back to his senses," but if you want to hike it might be safer if you did it by yourself, assuming you let one of us know when you are going and when you expect to be back. It wouldn't do to have something that brings you so much joy used against you prefect, none of us want that." But he has always expressed concern when he thinks things to be unsafe, and in this case his argument was something you found yourself agreeing with. Hiking is best done at your own pace anyway, why get a club full of self-centered assholes involved in your me time? Though you did wish now they had been a bit more... specific with their concerns. Maybe outlined some of the club's scheduling, but then they would have needed to ask him and in so doing betrayed your interest.

Which would have been much less embarrassing than how Jade actually found out. Because of course he did, was there ever any doubt he would? ~~~~ There is a creek not far up the mountain path behind your dorm you like to rest at when coming back from your adventures. It's a good place to check over the photos on your camera and enjoy the last few rays of sunlight before returning to whatever mess Grim had made in Ramshackle searching for where you had moved all the tuna cans. Sometimes he joined you, and the two of you would have a little picnic up the path a bit further, but that day had not been one of those days. Nor had the day you met this particular nemesis who is staring you down from just across the creek with such a judgmental glance you would think this was a Sunday brunch and not an afternoon meander through the forest.

"The fuck do you want bitch?" You snarl and the bear indignantly sniffs as if to imply she's better than you. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize it was my fault your face is so fucking crooked, thought you were just born that way." She huffs again, making a big show of turning her back on you as you rush to get your equipment off and tucked safely out of reach before the skankiest grizzly you've ever met whips around and charges you shrieking something about "how dare you steal her man!!!!" and blah blah blah "I'll show you, you good for nothing hussy!!!!" as if you could actually understand her and this wasn't a three act play you insisted on writing yourself. You weren't even sure this bear was a girl if you stopped to think about it in between punches, not that you really cared. She huffs and makes a valiant attempt to pin you as you snarl and flash your teeth and beat her right back into the creek laughing at what sounds like pathetic winging about "kids these days!!!" and how rude you are for-

A startled noise pauses your match, as you both turn, harsh glares towards a break in the thicket where a very out of place, very surprised looking man stands, hand infuriatingly poised casually at his chin. His infuriating smirk doesn't unfurl until you growl, deep and low reverberating through your opponent just enough that she decides to leave for the day while you are preoccupied.

"Oya, this is a surprise." Jade doesn't move and you stay firm in the creek, body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he decides to move just a bit closer. "If you were that desperate for a sparring partner, I'm sure Floyd would have obliged, animal abuse is not exactly legal you know?"

"What the fuck are you doing here." You spit before you exit the creek, a flash of something darting through Jade's eyes as his gaze darts between you and your pack on the ground.

"Me? I should be asking that of you. The Mountain Lover's Club had to go through quite an ordeal to get permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised..." His teeth begin to show as you crash down from your high, you hadn't actually thought of whether or not you would need to talk to someone other than a friend about where you were going... surely Riddle would have mentioned something if you did? Or did he not think to ask since he wasn't the adventurous sort? "I can't imagine how the Headmage would react to know his ward had been sneaking out to terrorize the local wildlife."

"Hey Brenda started it!" You snap and Jade looks briefly towards the treeline where a very indignant bear is pursing her lips and inspecting her claws, the very picture of innocence if he does say so himself. "She stole my sandwich while I was taking pictures of the sunset!"

"Maybe you should have had someone there to hold it for you." He laughs, finally moving from his spot towards you and your pack, eyes gleaming with familiarity as he looks over your things. "Perhaps, someone who would be willing to... forget about what he just saw if they accompanied him next time?" It's a threat using what gives you joy against you certainly, and you huff indignantly at it but don't deny his request. Jade is an eel of his word, and his joy at doubling the Mountain Lover's Club membership cannot be contained as he ushers you the rest of the way down the mountain, eager to plan your first expedition together.

Not that he intends to ever delete the pictures he took. Your angry face is just too cute.

[jobrolion]

𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔

mista x gn!reader

summary | you first met mista when he came to the bakery you worked at, and almost every monday after he would entertain you while you were on the clock.

notes | fluff and some kissing, reader is referenced to be inexperienced

wc | 1819

****

Mista came to the bakery you worked at almost every Monday after his first visit a year ago. And he always ordered the same thing. A cappuccino and a cornetto pastry with jam filling, the day he asked you out it was strawberry.

The door chimed and you locked eyes with him as he closed the door behind himself. He breathed in the air that smelled of flour and yeast, sugar and spices, and he tried to catch yours too, to no avail. 

“Good morning, Mista. How are you?” It was always a genuine question and you always got a genuine answer. You were already getting his order together, moving to the side to make his drink.

“Much better now that I’m here. Slow morning?” 

“A little, the rain is keeping people away. Not you, thankfully.” You smiled brightly at him, “The jam flavor today is strawberry, but you could always switch it up and get a custard or chocolate?”

“Nice try.” He tsked your name, sitting on the stool by the counter facing you. Nobody else was in the bakery so he could keep you to himself for the time being.

After sliding him his coffee and pastry, you leaned on the counter, sipping your drink as he started on his.

“Excuse me if I’m overstepping a boundary here, but where’d you get the bruise under your eye? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine now. Just one of the perks of being a mafioso.”

You paused, staring at him for a moment before letting out an undignified snort.

“Be serious, Mista.” You said between laughs. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s ok.”

“Gotta keep the mystery.”

“I guess so.” For as long as he’d been coming in he’d been enigmatic, this was part of the appeal.

For an hour you both talked, never a lull in conversation, before the rain stopped and customers started pouring in. 

“Until we meet again.” He bowed with an exaggerated wink.

“See you, Mista.” You curtsied in return, waving him off. 

When you got off of work you went straight into your errands. Your day off was tomorrow and you wanted it to be strictly for leisure. 

After visiting the post office you took your time at the grocery store. As your job you baked pastries and breads, but your true passion lies with cooking. So you browsed ingredients and brainstormed new recipes to experiment with. 

You had your eye on the freshly made pasta and the display of mushrooms. They were practically begging to be taken home. A cream based sauce would do nicely with them and the herbs you grew in your garden and the spices you kept in your cabinet. 

You made conversation with the cashier as they rang you out. You left for your car once they were done and what you owed was paid. 

Before you could start the ignition you saw a shadow and heard a knock on your window. Clear as day, Guido Mista was there outside your car, waiting with a grin. You exited your car and matched his enthusiasm. 

“Small world, huh?”

Mista laughed, a little nervously and stared for a moment before…

“I just uh- I have something to ask you. It’s been slowly eating away at me, but I’ve never been able to ask you because it feels wrong to while you’re working and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. And I will never show up to the bakery ever again if you ask me to so don’t hesitate to tell me off or-”

“What are you trying to get at?” Patience is a virtue, but the man in front of you was struggling.

“Would you want to maybe get dinner with me sometime?” He was actually wringing his fingers. This man would shamelessly flirt with you every time he came into your work and here he was sweating over asking you out.

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.” 

“I’d really like that, Mista. Are you free tomorrow night?”

It was a date. He chose the location and picked you up at 7 the next day. But before that, you fretted over what to wear and how you were going to act. This was not going to be the same as all those Monday mornings he’d spend at your bakery. You tried to calm down, it’s just Mista, the funny, flirty guy who entertains you while you’re on the clock. But it’s also Mista, the man you’d been crushing on for over half a year now who made your cheeks hot to the touch and your heart flutter.

When he picked you up, he knocked on your door, a single rose in his hand and a blush across his cheeks. You smiled as he gave it to you.

“Watch there's a thorn right there.”

You looked and sure enough there was a thorn where you were about to place your hand. “Where did you get this, Mista?”

“That’s top secret.”

“I’m flattered that you’d steal a rose for me, touching really.”

His cheeks flushed a darker shade of red and stayed that way as he took your hand. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“The Libeccio. It’s a favorite of mine. The food is to die for.” 

“I pass it on my way to work, I’m excited to try it!”

When you arrived, you were seated in a candle lit corner by a darkened window. It was obvious to you that this was planned and that warmed your heart.

After you ordered you noticed a group of young men who kept glancing over and looking away quickly, talking hushedly amongst themselves. 

“Mista, don’t look now, but those guys over there keep looking at us.”

He did look, and immediately a panic washed over his face. 

“What’s wrong? Do you know them?”

“Ah so this is embarrassing. They’re my friends.” He simplified it. “They kind of didn’t believe that you said yes. I didn’t think they’d actually show up. I’m really sorry.”

“Some friends, huh?”

Mista laughed nervously, “Yeah, something like that.”

Truth was, the rest of Bucciarati’s team knew of his infatuation with you, but not only did they doubt the date, but they also doubted your existence. So apparently, they had taken it upon themselves to settle the matter by spying on Mista.

“Should we ignore them?”

A sharp nod was your answer, so the two of you averted your eyes for the rest of the meal. He did assure you later that they meant well and were excited for him, despite them not believing him fully.

The date went as well as it could have, disregarding that minor incident. And before you knew it, you were already back on your doorstep.

“I’m glad you asked me out, Mista. I was too afraid to.” You confessed. 

“Really? What about me is so frightening?” He looked over himself, faux concern painting his features which made you laugh, making him drop the act, smiling.

Mista then took your hand in his and leaned in, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. As he pulled away, you guided his face towards yours and kissed his lips. You swore you short circuited, having never felt a spark like this with anyone before. After a moment, you hesitantly pulled away.

“Will I see you Monday?” You said breathlessly.

“Without a doubt.”

Two more Monday’s came and went before Mista asked you for a second date. This time you were on your feet all day, exploring the city, stopping occasionally for a break, once at a cafe and once at a fountain, and many times to steal kisses from each other. You wished you could fit more hours in a day, never would you want this one to end.

After dinner at a hole in the wall restaurant Mista asked if you wanted to come back to his place for a while. 

You were hesitant. Before him you had barely ever kissed anybody, and you had never gone back to anyone's house for anything, ever.

But you trusted Mista and you wanted to spend more time with him, so you said yes.

His apartment was small and simple, a stark contrast to his personality, but it somehow suited him. It was comfortable with ambient lighting and a neutral color pallet. He offered you a glass of water which you accepted. Standing by his kitchen counter you smiled, thanking him for the time you spent together.

“I should be the one thanking you, I haven't had a day this nice in too long ” 

Eventually you both migrated to his couch, sitting closer than you really had to. After a few more short remarks about the day, he leaned in, pressing a short kiss to your cheek. 

“Kiss me here, Mista.” You pointed to your lips, eyes piercing his.

He complied, kissing you fully and passionately, hands finding their way to your face, holding you sweetly. 

It could have been a minute or an hour that you sat there worshiping each other's lips. But then he placed a hand on your waist and a groan escaped him, taking you by surprise, you pulled back.

“Shit, my bad. I don't want to cross any lines here.”

“It's ok.” You laughed nervously. “It’s just that I’ve never gone any further than this with anyone. I don’t know if I want that tonight.”

“Then we take this at your pace, alright?” Your heart filled with adoration, all anxieties washing away with a single sentence. 

“Is more of this ok?”

“Take the lead.”

After a while, you startled when you noticed the time. You hated to go, but you had to open the bakery the next day. 

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“You'll see me sooner.”

Mista drove you home. Even after this, it was like nothing changed. You could still talk endlessly and being with him just felt natural. A year of Mondays brought the two of you closer week by week until now when you swore you were already in love.

He kissed you at your doorstep and watched as you closed the door behind you. And when he was sure you couldn’t see him he pumped his fist in the air and headed back to his car. But you did see him and now you were certain you were in love.

As you opened the bakery early the next morning you lamented another rainy day. The gray sky a sharp contrast to your sunny disposition. A dreary middle of the week Wednesday promised little to no customers which meant you got to spend the day alone. 

When you finished your opening tasks, you sat with a drink and waited. Fixing the displays and cleaning could only keep you occupied for so long.

As you took the last sip, the door chimed and you turned your head to see Mista greeting you with a wave and a smile.

****

title reference

from the morning - nick drake

[daydreamgoddess14]

Here she is! 🎉

Ella Cole - the only reject at Slough House to view her banishment as a fresh start and a chance to change her life for the better. Ella never again wants to draw attention to herself the way she did at the Park, but the past has a nasty habit of catching up with even the most cautious of people, and Ella is about to find out that keeping herself distanced from everyone is no guarantee she can keep them safe.

Taglist: @theskytraveler @moonmaiden1996 @acrackintheteacup @succulentthief

Masterlist

Warnings: *I want to be super clear on warnings so this might give away a handful of spoilers* Mentions & depictions of DV (not graphic or laboured), minor mentions of SV (not dubcon or rape, more like coercion and 'feeling obligated'), stalking, impact of all of this shit on a child, OFC is a single mother so there are depictions of motherhood. My inbox is open if you have any questions or want to talk 😘

The Escape Artist - Chapter 1

Six months. For Ella Cole, it had been six months of living hand to mouth, trying to pay for flats, bedsits or house shares with mould on the walls and mushrooms growing out of the carpet. Drug dealers on the stairs, unlicensed dogs barking night after night, bits of kids more than half her age with flick knives and vapes. She didn't bother them, and they didn't bother her. She knew this world and understood the ecosystem and flashpoints. She leaned against the front door and wiggled the key, the only way to get it to lock properly. It was still early, quiet in the stairwell bar one other person who kept his hood up and his hands deep in his pockets. 

“Lend us a tenner, El?” 

“I'm skint Dozzer, sorry.”

“Just till tomorrow?”

“No, Doz. Get down the clinic when they open, they can get you something to get you through the day.”

“Ain't allowed in there this week. ‘Ad a row with the security gaffer.” He sniffed.

“They'll kick you out for good if you keep that shit up. I've got to go, ask Mike.”

“Thanks anyway, bab.” She didn't see anyone else on the way out. The girls would still be sleeping, false lashes caked in mascara and lipstick stains bleeding into the soft lines around their mouths. She had to get out of this block, she'd only accepted it out of desperation. The black mould on the walls of the last place stank and it was wreaking havoc with her lungs. Putting her foot on a mushroom growing out of the carpet was the last straw, but after two months she'd also had enough of bumping into addicts and sex workers in the corridors, and she was sick of the girls pimp trying to enlist her. The fellas would love ya, you could make a killin’ babe he told her. Despite the early hour, the smell of weed in the building entrance was overwhelming. 

“Ugh.” A small voice next to her complained. She'd stayed quiet so far. She wasn't always keen on Dozzer, even less so when he was after money. 

“I know, baby, it's gross.” Ella wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulders and guided her out into the street. “It's cold, zip your coat up.” If there was ever a reason to get out of their current accommodation situation, she was it. 

“Can we go to the cafe?”

“Not today, you're in breakfast club.” They navigated the street, avoiding puddles from the never-ending rain and bags of uncollected rubbish. Ella checked her watch, late again. She only had half an hour to get to the school and then on to Slough House. Lamb never said anything if she was late, just an arched eyebrow and withering stare. She still had no idea how much he knew - or didn't know - about her. She'd certainly not told him anything. She hadn't told any of them, six months of polite-ish conversation and pointed silence. Grabbing the girl's hand, Ella dashed out onto the pedestrian crossing outside the school. An approaching car slammed on its brakes and sounded the horn. Ella spun around to face the driver.

“It's a fucking crossing, you twat!” She yelled. The driver glared at her. The driver she recognised glared at her, and then quickly realised that they knew her. “Fucking hell, Cartwright, you trying to kill us?” She raised her middle finger and continued across the road and into the school gates. She waited at reception for the breakfast club staff and said her goodbyes. As she walked back towards the road, she saw his car parked up across from the school. He beeped the horn once and gestured for her to get in. 

“Sorry, I was miles away.” He said as she got into the passenger seat. 

“My own fault. I shouldn't have rushed us out.” She muttered. “We were running late.” He didn't say anything. He merged with the traffic and drove in silence to Slough House. “I didn't mean to call you a twat,” she said as he went to open his door once he'd parked up. 

“Yeah you did. You gave me the finger after you'd recognised me.”

“Yeah I did,” she replied sheepishly. “Can you umm… can you not tell anyone?”

“About giving me the finger?”

“About her.” 

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Does she… does she have a name? Am I allowed to know?”

“Thanks for the lift.” She ignored the question and slammed the car door, trudging up the death stairs of Slough House. 

“Oh, on time I see? Just about.” Lamb sneered. He perched on the edge of Ho's desk. 

“Just about is still on time,” she told him on her way past. 

“Fucking hell, a Cartwright on time as well. You pair are spoiling me today, am I dying?” He jeered as River shoved the heavy door open. 

“God I hope so.” River muttered, dragging himself up the stairs behind Ella. By the time he'd stopped off to see Louisa, Ella had made a cup of tea for herself only, and pulled on noise cancelling headphones. “Make my own then, shall I?” He dropped into his wobbly, missing-a-wheel office chair and got stuck into the files Catherine had left on his desk. An hour later, Ella looked up from her files to fingers clicking in her face. She frowned and pulled off the headphones. 

“Yes?”

“You haven't said anything for like, an hour.”

“I'm working?”

“Well, yeah but -”

“Did you want something?”

“Can I ask a question?” She didn't reply so he went ahead. “What's her name? How old is she?”

“That's two questions.” He waited, expectantly. “She's eight.” Ella sighed. 

“And?”

“You'll take the piss out of her name so I'm not telling you.”

“You really think I'm in a position to take the piss out of someone's name?” She pursed her lips to hide the small smile. 

“Her name is Clover.” She braced for laughter, or a derogatory sneer which didn't come. 

“It's nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, cute. Very hippy, I don’t envy teenage Clover. Did you choose it?”

“I did. I thought… I hoped she'd bring me luck.”

“Is that why you're here? Bad luck?” She shook her head slightly and put the headphones back on. End of conversation. “Right. Good chat, at least twenty more words than usual so that's progress.” Her head had dipped again, back to the files. 

“Are you talking to yourself?” Shirley asked from the doorway. 

“No, I'm talking to… her,” he trailed off miserably when it was clear Ella wasn't listening at all. 

“Twat. Lamb wants you.”

“Two twats in one day. I am a lucky boy,” he sighed, leaving Ella alone. 

*

As much as Ella appreciated Clover's preference for the sex workers over the drug addicts in the small block of flats, it made it somewhat trickier to explain why she wasn't allowed to pop and show them her freshly painted nails - which they always loved to see - or why she couldn't hang out at their flat for any longer than it took to say hello in the corridor.

“Why do they always have visitors?” She grumbled, admiring the purple glitter polish Ella had let her have on for the weekend. 

“Because that's their job lovey, their visitors pay to come and… play games together.”

“Like monopoly?”

“Something like that.” Ella mumbled, head halfway in the oven which wouldn't light. She idly wondered how long the gas would take to kill her, then she remembered she hadn't paid the bill. “Shit.”

“What's up?”

“McDonald's for tea. Get your shoes on.” Ella sat back on the kitchen floor, stained with god knows what, and always sticky no matter what miracle cleaning products she brought. It had to get better than this. Surely it had to get better than this. She gritted her teeth, breathing in short huffs to try and keep the tears at bay. She'd felt a pang of terror after giving away Clover's name to Cartwright. For six months she'd been so careful, not daring to speak about her to anyone just in case, just in case, it somehow reached other ears. She had no way of knowing who Cartwright was in with. He appeared above board, but didn't they all? In sleep deprived delirium, she'd even researched how to change Clover's name via deed poll. She hadn't slept properly for nearly a week, hadn't paid the gas bill, but she had a fiver in her pocket and a handful of change - enough for a kids meal and maybe something for herself if she was lucky. She leaned into the door and wiggled the key, and led Clover out, passed the congregation of kids on the stairs and straight into the girl's pimp.

“Alright, El? Still got a job for you if you want it?”

“No thank you Pav, payday on Monday. I'm sure I'll get by til then.”

“A loan then? You don't even have to pay me back in cash,” Pawel Wójcik leered at Ella, a rolled cigarette caught between his teeth. 

“Nope.”

“They love a milf ya know? Could get you forty quid a go?” Forty quid sounded like a lottery win but Ella stood fast. She held Clover's hand tightly.

“Bye, Pav.” She kept it polite, always kept it polite. He wasn't a man she wanted to upset or demean, she didn't have to work for him, he still had the ability to make her life miserable. She hadn't realised how much of a sliding scale ‘miserable’ was. She'd been miserable before but at least they'd been warm and well fed. She hadn't had pimps offering her work or addicts asking for cash. Bills were paid, and Clover had her own room. It wasn't going to be for long, she soothed. She was fighting hand over fist to get back the security deposit from the flat before. The letting company were trying to lay the blame for the mould on her and were holding onto the deposit to pay for the flat to be cleaned. Another call on Monday to get them to pay up and once they did she'd be back on her feet again. Assuming she made it to Monday. They huddled in bed together, even with the lack of sleep Ella finally felt peace. Her baby in her arms, too old really to be sleeping in her mother’s bed but when there was only one bed the options were limited. Ella thought it funny how Clo proclaimed to be a big girl who wanted her own room back, her own bed back, but who suddenly became so small again when it came to bedtime. Her stomach rumbled, the small burger she’d managed to scrape together the change for wasn’t really enough. She hoped the girls down the hall would be up in the morning, they usually had plenty of bread for toast. Pawel wouldn’t allow them to go hungry, it was bad for business when the sounds of hunger got in the way of the blow jobs. 

“Fuck me, you look like shit.” Sofia told her the next morning through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Can we borrow some bread til tomorrow?”

“Sofia, look at my nails!”

“Oh Clo, they look beautiful! Why don’t you ladies come in for a cuppa.”

“You don’t have any visitors?”

“Nah, we’re free til lunchtime. Don't expect to see Lulu though, she's sleeping off a big night.” Clo raced through the flat to the plush pink velvet sofa and flicked on the TV. Sofia put a gentle hand on Ella’s arm. “Rough week?”

“Awful. I need to call that letting agent again tomorrow, if I had that money back we’d have a safety net. I wouldn’t be hunting for fucking change to take to McDonalds.”

“Can you even pay cash there anymore?” Sofia put a huge mug of tea down on the table. Ella cleared her throat, nodding over at the draining board which was laden with dildos. “Sorry, washing up. I’ll hide these.”

“Please don’t make me explain to an eight year old what a dildo is.” Ella grimaced. With the dildos away, a plate piled high with buttered toast made its way to the table. Ella ate until she felt sick.

“Better?”

“Thank you. I’m sorry we had to come to you.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather look after you two than a fifty year old on viagra,” she shuddered. “Heart attack waiting to happen - and my first aid at work is not up to date.”

“You haven’t heard anything?”

“If he’s out, everyone’s keeping it quiet. I’ll tell you if I hear otherwise.” As Ella left, Sofia pushed a twenty pound note into her hand. 

“I can't take -”

“You can, you will.”

“I'll pay you back.”

“You won't. I've been there babe, I promise it'll be worth it.”

*

“Cole, with me.” Lamb ordered as lunchtime drew near on Monday. Ella's face fell, she'd planned a Subway payday treat before her wages were swallowed by bills and school clubs. She glanced over at River who shrugged and then followed Lamb outside, down the stairs and round the corner into the Chinese restaurant. His usual order was on the table already. “Whatever the girl wants.” He told the staff.

“Oh, no I'm fine.”

“You ain't paying, I know you’re broke.” Ella blushed. “Saw you nicking biscuits from Ho's desk for breakfast last week.” 

“Chow mein please.” She mumbled, eyes tracing the red gingham tablecloth.

“Get her some other bits as well, will ya? Put it on my tab. Now, what I'm trying to work out is why you're so broke. It's not the old fizzy lifting powder, you're not as twitchy as Dander. Longridge is the resident gambler -”

“Just had a few big bills this month.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you asking me? You could just find out from the Park. Or Ho.”

“I'm asking you,” he said sternly. After a few sloppy bites of noodles, he softened. “Look, you don't seem as brain dead as the rest of the idiots upstairs. You've done everything I've asked for six months, and stuff I haven't asked for, you haven't complained, you've had your head down and got it done. Some people far more stupid than me might actually think you were enjoying it.”

“Believe it or not, I am.”

“But why?” She pushed the chow mein around her plate. 

“I was married. I am married, actually. He's a big deal in organised crime, moves things around, makes things disappear. Money, drugs, people, gold, you name it. The Park were watching the gang, he made me doctor some images and change some tracking details to throw them off. Taverner found out it was me.”

“Did they get him?”

“Only on a lesser charge. A few of the lads went down for him on the big stuff.”

“He’s a bully then. Must be if he got his underlings to go down for him?” Ella swallowed thickly. 

“Yeah. He doesn't like… disobedience.” 

“Where is he now?”

“Serving a year, but he might be out by now.”

“And Taverner sent you to me. Why didn't she have you charged?”

“My dad is a copper. Between them they made it go away.”

“Bet daddy dearest was happy about that.”

“I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him for years.”

“Disowned and yet he still saved you from the clink, eh?”

“Something like that.”

“What a pickle you're in. A fallen woman, pushed from a life of luxury into squalor. You should write a book. Make sure there's lots of pictures though, otherwise Cartwright won't be able to read it.” He laughed loudly at his own joke and followed it up with a belch. “C'mon eat up. Will he come after you?” 

“I've been staying low, I know a few people who are listening out for me,” Ella thought of Sofia and Lulu, teasing any snippets of information from clients they knew of who had links to him. Lamb nodded, seemingly happy enough with her response. 

“We'll see, shall we? And the money?”

“I ran away with nothing. I've had to get deposits and advance rent together, it's just been a bit hard that's all.”

“Let's call this your six month probationary review, eh? Congratulations, you've passed and it comes with a payrise effective right now.” He pulled a battered wallet from his pocket and handed her a wad of notes.

“No, that's not right -”

“You're on less than the others, even Dander and she's only about twelve. Someone fucked up on payroll. Accept it and say thank you, Lamb.”

“Thank you, Lamb.”

“You're welcome, now this ain't a fucking charity so that's your lot. Sort your shit out and don't bring it to my door.” Ella hesitated, feeling like she should acknowledge Clover somehow. 

“Just so you know, if everything did go to shit -”

“Oh fuck off, Standish can keep your fucking cat if the ex offs you.”

“I have a daughter.” Lamb stared. 

“What do you want? A medal?” His cutlery clattered onto the empty plate. “Alright. Say no more.”

“Thank you.” 

“Don't get all fucking weepy, you're better than that. Pull yourself together and get back to work.” Ella nodded and got up from the table, leaving Lamb alone with the leftovers and his thoughts. 

*

Feeling  buoyed by her conversation with Lamb, Ella took advantage of Cartwright going to get a coffee and called the letting agent. She was halfway through giving them an earful when he returned. She knew he was eavesdropping, the page he was reading hadn't turned despite only having a handful of text on it. Unless Lamb had been right and he couldn't read. 

“Look, you owe me that money, that flat was not fit to be lived in. I have photos from the day I moved in, I have my hospital records which show I had three successive chest infections caused by black mould and I have a solicitor who specialises in getting deposits back from fraudulent landlords. I will put those pictures on every single platform I can and tell everyone that you're putting children at risk.” She kept her voice low but it dripped with anger. The monotonous voice on the end of the phone barely registered her threats. Ella balled her hand into a fist and bit down on it to keep from shouting. She didn't notice River get up from his desk until he was leaning over hers to pluck the phone from her ear. 

“Pay her the fucking money back or I'll be down your office in an hour with the police.” Ella stared, River listened to the response. “I don't give a shit how long it's supposed to take, it's taken long enough.” There was silence again while he waited, tapping his long fingers on her desk. She watched his hand, not daring to look up at him. “Thank you.” He handed her the phone. “Check your account,” he left the call connected while Ella opened her banking app. Her jaw dropped, confirming the payment had been received. He took the phone back again, “That's come through. See how easy it was? Don't let it happen again.” When he passed her the phone again, she flinched. “Sorry, I shouldn't have interfered.”

“It's fine. Thank you.”

“You should go and get the cash out, hang on to it.” Ella frowned. Her new cash is king world was still taking some adjustment. She'd been so used to waving a platinum credit card, her phone, her watch, at a pin machine. She was amazed at how quickly she'd become frugal. The watch and her latest model phone - traded in for a basic handset - had been sold to buy a bed.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” She sighed heavily, an odd feeling settling in her chest that she couldn't quite place. Relief. For the first time in months she felt relieved. 

 

She didn't abandon her vigilance entirely, but between telling Lamb and Cartwright - a duo she never envisaged being remotely trustworthy - the bare minimum, she relaxed enough to be able to sleep at night. She ensured that her private life remained completely private. No one but Lamb knew of her ex, and no one else other than Lamb and Cartwright knew about Clover, and she intended to keep it that way. But she found herself drawn to swapping book recommendations with Catherine, and even the constant arguments between Marcus and Shirley occasionally raised a smile. And then of course, there was Lamb. 

“Turnock’s fucking teacakes?”

“They were out of jaffa cakes.”

“And you see me eatin’ marshmallow do ya?”

“Don’t turn your nose up. What’s the suitable alternative?”

“I dunno Cole, use your brain. Knew I shouldn't have told you you had half an extra brain cell than the others.”

“Hobnobs. Shall I get you some hobnobs?”

“Fucking hobnobs,” Lamb grumbled, pouring a scotch from the fresh bottle he pulled out from the bag. “Least you got the scotch.”

“As if I'd leave you hanging there.” Ella put her hand on the box of teacakes, intent on taking them back downstairs to have one with a cup of tea.

“Leave the teacakes.” He eyed her though the bottom of the glass.

“Thought so.”

“Jaffa cakes tomorrow or you’re out of here. Got it?”

“Jaffa cakes tomorrow.” She agreed. He ripped open the box.

“Oi here y’are.” She caught the airborne red and silver wrapped teacake he threw at her and beamed.

“Cheers, Lamb.”

“Off you fuck, work to do.” Ella slipped through his office door and gave Catherine a wave on her way down the stairs. She managed to find two reasonably clean mugs and made tea, popping one on the desk next to hers and one on her own desk. Headphones on, she unwrapped the chocolate covered marshmallow and took a bite.

“Bit early isn’t it?” 

“Cartwright, there is no early when chocolate is involved.” She dragged off the headset and let it hang around her neck.

“Did you get me one?” 

“Nope.” 

“So that’s how it is?”

“I made you tea.” She popped the last bite into her mouth and nodded at his desk. Next to the mug of tea was a packet of hobnobs. He smiled, small, but a smile nonetheless.

“Thanks, Cole. Still sucking up to Lamb?”

“It’s not sucking up, he actually likes me. You’ll never know what that feels like.” She put her hand to her heart and pouted. “Sucks to be you.”

“See all you've done there is lure yourself into a false sense of security,” he opened the packet and snapped a biscuit in half, dunking it in the tea, “he doesn’t like anyone.” Catherine made her way through the maze of offices with a pile of files. 

“Morning you two. Thank you for the book, Ella, very enjoyable. These are tax returns from the early 90s relating to the Havilland job.”

“Love a dodgy tax return,” Ella gratefully received her half. “I'll bring you the next in the series if you like?”

“Lovely, I've passed the first one onto Louisa.”

“That's great, I told her she'd love it.” Ella smiled. River frowned. 

“Since when is anyone actually nice to each other around here?” He muttered holding the second half of his biscuit in the tea for a fraction too long. It broke off with a solemn plop into the liquid. “Bollocks.” Since Lamb had taken a chance, Ella thought to herself. Since she'd allowed herself to feel the tiniest modicum of joy that she'd managed to escape from hell and had survived. It was far better than the self-flagellation she'd gone for originally, there might be a mountain to climb but she had to celebrate the achievement of making it to base camp. That evening, come 5pm, there was a mass exodus from Slough House and after six shit months and one less shit, almost verging on normal month, Ella felt able to actually smile at her colleagues as they departed. She walked down the slippery stairs with River, into the evening rain. 

“See you Monday,” she said, opening her umbrella. He was looking past her at the bus stop. “Oi, dickhead, see you Monday?”

“Yeah, Monday.” His brow furrowed as he looked not quite at her, his attention still on the bus stop.

“Cartwright?”

“Do you need a lift to the school? It's pissing down.”

“No thanks, I'll live. You're going to the pub with Louisa anyway.”

“You should come next time.” He said, finally looking directly at her. 

“We'll see. I should go.” 

“Have a good one.”

“You too.” He watched her leave, walking in the opposite direction of the bus stop where the figure he'd been watching had vanished. 

Chapter 2

[the-kr8tor]

We had a big storm last night and my Internet blew out:(

Thankfully everyone’s okay (not me because I ran out in the storm and I might be a liiiiiittle sick but it’s okay)

Daily Hobie HC!

Also, mushroom, I’m imaging Victorian era detective r and Hobie to ‘Dangerously yours’..oh the opportunities

Billie and Ramona were now fully fledged teenagers, with actual style, interests, a lot of sass and obviously, crushes.

You were currently fighting for your life to keep yourself from bursting into unhinged laughter, as Hobie pouted with his face buried into your thighs on the couch.

While Ramona was in her room, reading the newest book of her favourite series with music in her ears, Billie was out at a friend’s house.

A boyfriend’s house.

Hobie was surprised to see a guy coming out to greet his daughter, and immediately didn’t trust him. As Hobie was driving back from dropping Billie off, he didn’t realize that he would have the ‘fatherly urge’ to dislike any future boyfriends.

But here he was. He just hated the idea of seeing one of his girls crying, hurt because someone broke their heart.

Hobie let out a sigh, turning to lay on his back as he returned to the present, his face relaxed as if he were to fall asleep at any moment.

He looked at you through his lashes, an uncontrollable smile sprouting on his face as reminded himself of the best person in the world, whom was being so gentle with him.

Hobie gently grabbed one of your hands, placing tender kisses to your palm as he listened to you chuckling as quietly as possible.

You asked if he had come to terms with the fact one of his daughters has a boyfriend. The answer?

Obviously not.

- 🐦‍⬛

Oh no! Thank goodness you and your family are okay! Get well soon, my love! Don't go running in the rain now 😆

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

Omg that prompt had me standing and doing laps in my room it's so good! If @thats-a-mushroom marz doesn't plan on writing it I might ask for permission to write it! I'm giggling and kicking my feet just thinking about the au 🤭

AHHHH MY GIRLS ARE ALL GROWN UP!!!

Lmaooo I just imagined Hobie coming home from driving Billie and immediately shoves his face on your lap and complains about his girls growing up too fast and shit talking the guy 😆

R you're living the dream rn HAHAHHAHAHAHA

Meanwhile mona is just chilling while reading hunger games!! She's just like me fr 😂

It's a universal truth that no matter how cool or nonchalant a dad is once his kid gets a partner they all react the same way 🤣

Hobie would be calling Billie every ten minutes! Yknow just checking up on her 🤣

Awww when he calmed down he quickly turned his attention to R and smooched her as apology for being a baby 😍😍

BAHAHHAHAHAHA OBVIOUSLY NOT! The way that made me laugh so loud 🤣

[kallie-den]

Rabbit Hunt

After passing through a fey portal, Raine meets a strange fairy baroness who insists on hosting a rabbit hunt - and insists that Raine be the rabbit. Raine tries to refuse, but the Baroness's magical maze isn't so easily beaten…

Kind of a weird old story of mine I realized I hadn't posted yet. It's got predatory fey, bunnygirl TF, hunter/prey play, and petplay, and hopefully all that wrapped up in a little fantasy-horror package sounds good! Happy Halloween!

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” said the Baroness to Raine, in a polite, soft, lilting, richly-accented voice. The tall, ethereal fey had introduced herself as nothing more or less than ‘The Baroness’. “Would you care to give me your name?”

“Sure,” Raine replied automatically. “It’s Raine.”

She froze.

She was talking to a fey. This was the fey realm. That was the only explanation. She’d been walking home from work, and as she often did, had taken a small detour to walk through the edges of the big, old forest that surrounded her hometown. Entirely by chance, she’d noticed something a little deeper into the woods. An unusually large, unusually colorful ring of toadstools. Raine had been sure it hadn’t been there the day before, and so, curious, she’d decided to investigate. Reaching down to briefly touch one of the odd, white-and-red spotted mushrooms, she’d felt herself suddenly pulled forward by something, as if she was somehow falling into the ground.

The fall had left her dizzy and disoriented, but when she came to, she found she was somewhere very different. She wasn’t in a forest anymore. She appeared to be standing in the grounds of a very large, very grand mansion. There was no sign of where she had arrived from, or how, but behind her was a vast hedge maze that seemed to stretch on all the way to the horizon, and in front of her was a little flower garden with a long dining table running its whole length. And that was where she’d met the Baroness, sitting on a silver throne at the head of the table.

And now she’d given the fey her name.

In Raine’s part of the world, tales and stories of the fey folk were everywhere. She’d been raised on them. There were many, many different myths and legends, but a common thread running through all of them was a set of very simple rules that you were meant to follow if you ever found yourself dealing with a fairy.

One: don’t tell them a lie, lest it become the truth.     Two: don’t play pretend, lest it become reality.     And three: never, ever give them your name.

She had just broken the third rule.

“Could you tell me that one more time, pretty girl?” the Baroness asked sweetly.

“It’s… it’s…” the girl who had been Raine opened her mouth to answer, but she suddenly found herself drawing a blank. “W-why can’t I remember my name?” she asked out loud, suddenly panicked.

“Oh, well, that’s because it’s not your name anymore, silly.” The Baroness laughed indulgently. “And when you give something to someone, it isn’t yours anymore. It’s theirs. Don’t you see? ‘Raine’ isn’t your name now. It’s mine.”

“Raine…” the girl breathed. At first, she felt like the name meant something to her, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel as familiar and fitting as it once had. And within moments, she forgot it again, the word ‘Raine’ slipping through her mind like water slipping through her fingers.

“Don’t worry, pet,” the Baroness said comfortingly, although the sinister, too-wide grin on her face was anything but comforting. “I’m sure you’ll find a new one, sooner or later. But for now, why don’t you join me? I was just about to indulge in a little hunting, you see.”

“I-”

“No, wait,” the Baroness interrupted. “You will join me on my hunt. I insist on it. And you see, this is my house, so I’m afraid you really don’t have much choice in the matter.”

“I, um, w-what?” The girl was too confused to argue. She had lost her name and she was feeling a strange weakness in the face of the Baroness’s words, like the fey’s presence alone was sapping her willpower. “W-what are we hunting?” she asked absent-mindedly.

“Oh no.” The Baroness wagged a finger. “Not we. You’ll be joining me, but not as a fellow hunter. You, my dear girl, will be my quarry.”

“What?” The girl spat, alarmed.

The Baroness ignored her obvious panic. “The only question is,” the fey mused, “what will you be? Let me get a proper look at you.”

The tall, slender fey darted lithely towards the girl, circling her a little too close for comfort and occasionally reaching out to prod or grab at her. The girl was frozen to the spot with terror, captivated and held helpless by the Baroness’s strange aura. She couldn’t fathom why the fey seemed so interested in her, and so eager to carefully inspect her body. What was there to see? The girl was tall, with a thick, messy mop of auburn hair. She had an athletic build; in college she’d been on the track and field team, and since graduating she’d kept in the habit of exercising and running. Her strong, toned thighs and wide hips were the only things that really made her stand out. But the Baroness seemed fascinated by every little detail of her form. The girl felt uncomfortably like a piece of livestock being sized up for slaughtering. But what could she do? Run? She had a feeling she couldn’t escape the Baroness, and besides, where could she run to?

There was little more the girl could do than try to study the Baroness in return, hoping to get a sense of her strange host and what she might be capable of. The powerful fey was far more unnerving than most of the fairies the girl had read about in her childhood stories. She looked human, almost, but from up close there were a hundred tiny, uncanny details that gave her away. She was exceptionally tall, at least seven feet, and a little too slender and willowy for any mortal being. Her fingernails were too long, her skin too pale, and her teeth too sharp. Her eyes were the biggest giveaway. They simmered with a sinister red-purple glow, and looking at them for too long gave the girl a throbbing headache. When she met the Baroness’s uncomfortably piercing gaze, she thought she could see huge, insectoid wings unfolding from the fey’s back, but when she looked, there was nothing. The Baroness was an impossible creature.

The fey’s manner of dress was just as peculiar. She was wearing what appeared to be a very long Victorian tailcoat, dark green in color, and with a very tight fit that only accentuated the Baroness’s sleek, subtle feminine form. Her hair was red as flame, and tied up in elaborate braids. Underneath the tailcoat was a ruffled dress shirt and a smart pair of trousers. Curiously, the Baroness was barefoot, although her feet seemed untouched by dirt or grub. She really did look like something out of a strange old fairytale - the kind that gave you nightmares, even if they weren’t supposed to. Around the Baroness’s neck was a large pendant made of silver, in the form of a complex Celtic knot. It was beautiful. The girl quickly found herself staring at it. The more she stared, the more she noticed all kinds of little details and pleasing patterns in the way the small threads of silver were interwoven. It was entrancing. Hypnotic. It-

“A rabbit!” the Baroness suddenly announced.

“What?” the girl asked, surprised.

“You’ll be a fine rabbit.”

“I’m not a rabbit!”

“Don’t be so hasty,” the Baroness admonished.

“Um… s-sorry,” the girl apologized, suddenly embarrassed.

“That’s more like it.” The Baroness smiled, showing teeth. “A rabbit hunt! Oh, I’m going to have such fun. When shall we get started?”

“Wait, I-”

“Right now? Of course! No time like the present, after all. Not that it really matters, here. It’s always the present, isn’t it?” The Baroness laughed. It was an incredibly unnerving sound. “Well, off you go! Get running!”

“What?” The girl was so confused, and she’d had enough. She needed to put her foot down somewhere. She needed to find a way home. That wasn’t going to happen if she kept playing along with this ridiculous charade. She found the Baroness oddly difficult to resist, but she needed to try. She’d already lost her name, and she didn’t want to lose anything more. “No! No, I’m not going to be part of this… this hunt. I refuse to do whatever you tell me. I’m staying right here until you send me home!”

The Baroness pouted; an absurd affectation on such a tall, ethereal creature. But then, she smiled again. “Well… suit yourself, I suppose.” The Baroness turned back to the dining table, and picked up something. It was something the girl hadn’t taken notice of before. A spear. It wasn’t quite like anything she had ever seen before. Its shaft was long and twisting, and the blade looked like it was made of shattered, sparkling glass. But there was no doubt it was wickedly sharp, and as the Baroness held it aloft in a practiced grip and turned back to the girl, there could be no doubt what it was for either. “But in that case, it will be a terribly short and boring hunt.”

The girl started backing away, eyes wide. She’d already been plenty scared, but now she was utterly terrified. The Baroness grinned at her fear.

“Go on, run!” the fey commanded. “Run for me, little rabbit girl. Run, run, run!”

The nameless girl turned and fled for her life. Heading away from the Baroness, there was nowhere for her to run to except the vast, dark, endless hedge maze stretching out before her. It scared her too, but she had no choice. With panic lending her speed, she plunged headlong into its abyssal depths, and in moments, she was lost.

***

Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. The girl sprinted and darted through the twisting passages of the maze, taking each turn according to nothing more than her instincts. Which, she was fully aware, meant she was essentially running around at random. It probably wasn’t wise, but she wasn’t sure what else she could do. Wasn’t there some kind of rule for getting out of a maze? Always follow the left-hand wall? Something like that? But the problem was, the girl wasn’t sure if she even wanted to escape. Wouldn’t that take her back towards the Baroness’s manor? She had no way of knowing if there was a way out on the other side, or anything hidden in the center. Besides, she’d already become convinced that any true navigation was impossible. The maze didn’t seem to obey consistent physical laws. More than once, she’d felt certain she was looping back around to somewhere she’d been before only to end up somewhere completely new, or had been heading in a perfectly straight line and found herself back at a familiar crossroads. For all she knew, the Baroness had enchanted the maze to make sure her rabbit hunt had a single, inevitable outcome.

Why a rabbit hunt? Why had the Baroness insisted she would be a rabbit? The girl was so scared she could barely think, but she still couldn’t stop turning that question over in her mind. A rabbit? She wasn’t anything like a rabbit. Was she? Sure, she’d heard a few cracks about it before. Quite a lot, come to think of it. She’d always loved eating carrots, and she’d always been particularly good at athletics events like the long jump and high jump. But that didn’t mean anything, and besides, the Baroness didn’t know anything about that. Did she? It was hard to tell, when she was dealing with such a strange creature. Given the kinds of stories she’d heard, it didn’t seem impossible. But the girl only knew one thing for sure: she needed to hold on to her humanity. She didn’t want to lose more than just her name. 

It was proving difficult, though, to focus on anything at all. The twisting passageways of the hedge maze were somehow hypnotic, and at every turn, the girl had to think about the Baroness, who was surely right on her tail. She kept hearing ominous sounds from all around her: footsteps, leaves rustling, twigs snapping underfoot. It was hard to be sure they were real, and even harder to judge how close they might be, but each sound filled the girl with fresh terror and spurred her onwards. She had no time to think, no time to plan. She just had to run.

“Oh, hello there!”

The girl wheeled around at the voice, terrified the Baroness had found her. But no. Without realizing it, she’d stumbled into some kind of small, brightly lit clearing. And she wasn’t alone there. Sitting at a small table, just a few paces away from her, was another fey. A pixie. They too were slight and slender, although unlike the Baroness they were very small. They wore a pretty summer dress, and had two pairs of dragonfly wings folded on their back as they sat, daintily sipping at a porcelain teacup.

“Um… hello?” The girl was reluctant to stop running, but she needed a moment to catch her breath. Besides, this pixie didn’t seem as threatening as the Baroness. “Could you tell me where we are?”

“I’m afraid not.” The pixie had the same kind of strange, lilting voice as the Baroness, although much higher-pitched. “I don’t know either, you see.”

“You’re lost too?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say so.” The pixie seemed bemused by the suggestion. “I’m quite content here.”

“Right,” the girl said, after a long pause. “Well, um, I need to be going now. Please don’t tell the Baroness you saw me.”

“You’re her new pet? The rabbit?” The pixie looked at her with fresh interest. “Not yet, I suppose.”

“Um…” Pet?

“You must be having a tough time,” the pixie said sympathetically.

“I… yes,” the girl admitted. Sympathy was the last thing she’d expected. “She’s… she’s right on my heels! At least I think she is. It’s hard to tell.”

“Well, of course it is!” the pixie exclaimed. “You’ve no hope at all, the way you are now. You need better hearing! That way, you can hear her coming.”

“That would actually be pretty nice,” the girl agreed. If she could tell where the Baroness was coming from, she might be able to keep her at arms’ length.

“Want me to help you out with that?” the pixie offered.

“Would you? Yes please!” The moment the words left the girl’s lips, she realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. “No, wait, I didn’t-”

The pixie, ignoring her protests, raised a hand and snapped her fingers. The change was instant. The nameless girl reached up in shock as she felt two big, floppy rabbit ears sprout from the sides of her head. They were over six inches long and hung around her shoulders, and the soft fuzz covering them, the same shade of rich brown as her hair, was impressively soft and velvety. The girl, though, wasn’t really able to appreciate them. She was horrified. She couldn’t see her own reflection, but she could only imagine how ridiculous she must look. More importantly, though, it was clear the Baroness’s promise was already coming true. ‘You’ll be a fine rabbit’, the fey had said. The girl was beginning to worry she’d been speaking very literally.

“You… fix me!” the girl yelled, after a few moments spent turning her head this way and that, trying to inspect her new ears. But there was no reply, and when the girl looked up, she found that she was alone once more. The pixie had vanished. The girl grit her teeth. Then, though, she heard footsteps, much louder than ever before. She didn’t have time to waste searching for a mischievous pixie. The Baroness was still coming for her. She’d already rested too long. The girl picked the first passage she saw, and ran into it as fast as her legs could carry her.

As she sprinted deeper into the maze, though, the girl noticed something. Her hearing really was better. All the half-heard noises that had troubled her before resolved themselves into a clear map of every little thing happening around her. It wasn’t a comforting picture. She could hear the footsteps of something; something she was sure was the Baroness. It wasn’t far away, and it was stalking her with unnerving precision. Still, the girl felt better for knowing. At least she could be reasonably sure her hunter wasn’t lurking around each and every corner. That brought her a measure of calm, and oddly, so did her hearing itself. Despite her distress at her new, animalistic ears, it was proving easy for her to lean into her new, heightened senses. The girl found she could immerse herself in the world around her, becoming one with all those small noises and letting instinct carry her away from danger, and allowing the loud and anxious parts of her mind to grow quiet. It was nice, especially under the circumstances, but the girl was wary of it. She’d noticed the odd, rabbit-like way she tended to twitch from side to side in response to sounds when she let herself sink a little too deep into that headspace.

The girl’s supernatural hearing, though, didn’t prevent her from turning another corner and finding herself in another clearing, just like the first. She narrowed her eyes and searched around for another pixie. She hadn’t heard anything, but sure enough, there was one. This second pixie appeared to be playing a small game of croquet on a tiny little lawn. The girl shook her head in disbelief. How hadn’t she heard anything?

“Hello there!” the pixie called out in a jolly, lilting voice. “You must be the Baroness’s new rabbit.”

“I’m not a rabbit!” the girl replied indignantly.

The pixie giggled. “With those ears? I think that’s a bit of a foolish thing to say, silly rabbit.”

The girl grit her teeth. “Whatever. I’ll be on my way.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” The pixie nodded her head sympathetically. “She must be giving you a hard time.”

“She is.” The girl turned her head left and right, listening out carefully. She could hear rustling, but it wasn’t close. “I… I don’t know how she’s tracking me. Do you know the way out of here? I need to get back home.”

“Hmm.” The pixie stroked their chin, thinking for a moment. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know how she’s tracking you either. She’s an awfully good hunter. I suppose you’ll just have to go faster.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the girl agreed, disappointed.

“Hey!” the pixie said brightly. “Want me to help you with that?”

“Oh, can you?” the girl asked eagerly. She was getting awfully tired, and she didn’t want her speed to start flagging. “Yes, please. Although… wait, no. No, please don-”

It was too late. The pixie had already snapped her fingers. The girls started immediately looking herself up and down. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen. For a moment, she thought she’d somehow escaped the pixie’s curse. But then she felt it; a gentle but insistent warmth in her lower body. At first, it was hard to pinpoint, but more and more it coalesced in her thighs and her hips. And then they started to grow. The girl initially thought her clothes were changing, as her leggings felt as though they were getting tighter and tighter. But she soon realized that in fact, her thighs and hips were expanding, swelling with new muscle and fresh, soft curves. Her ass, too, started expanding out behind her, and within moments her leggings were ripping apart at the seams, quickly shredded to tatters by her growing body. The girl had always had a pretty slender, athletic build, but that was rapidly changing. Her metamorphosis took mere seconds, and by the end her physique was hopelessly bottom-heavy. Her new proportions weren’t quite extreme enough to be called cartoonish, but they were close. She certainly didn’t look like a runner anymore.

“You! I’m gonna-” The girl looked up, but predictably enough, the pixie was gone. “I’m gonna strangle the next one of those I see,” she vowed.

Experimentally, she reached down to run her hands over her new body. It was incredibly soft and curvaceous. She had the kind of ass and hips people drooled over. Beneath the softness, though, she could feel that her legs had become incredibly powerful. Underneath a layer of pleasing, masterfully sculpted fat was pure, taut muscle. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, the girl mused. Then a gust of wind blew through the maze, and she shivered. If only her transformation hadn’t shredded her clothes. She had an odd feeling that pixie was still lurking somewhere nearby, leering at her nudity. At least her top half was still covered. But that was just one more reason to move on quickly. The rustling leaves were growing closer, and she had no more time to waste. Once more, the girl picked a path, and started running.

She quickly found, though, that she couldn’t run. Not like before. Her new body simply wasn’t suited for it. The kind of runner’s gait she’d long since committed to muscle memory simply didn’t allow for such massive, curvy thighs. The girl groaned in frustration. The pixie had promised to help her, but what help were these new legs if she couldn’t run on them? Then, though, she remembered how well her new ears seemed to work when she let instinct take over. Perhaps her new body was the same. The girl took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and just tried to move forward in whatever way felt most natural.

She hopped.

At least, it was something like a hop. Instead of placing one foot in front of the other, the girl pressed her feet together and coiled her thighs, before extending both her legs at once to propel herself forward. The speed at which she moved took her by surprise, and threatened to send her toppling over forwards. But, just barely, she was able to keep her balance. The girl was astonished. Her new body was incredible! With speed like this, she could easily leave any of her track and field rivals in the dirt - assuming she ever made it home. With that thought held firm in her mind, she picked a direction and started hopping.

The hedge maze around her became a blur as she sped through it, much faster than before. The nameless girl was amazed. Despite her situation, she couldn’t help but grin. She was riding high on adrenaline. She was so fast! And with her enhanced hearing, she could be sure to stay clear of danger Maybe she could win this hunt after all. Maybe. The girl didn’t want to get carried away. She knew there was something darker at work here. The transformations she’d been offered were beckoning her, tempting her with unfamiliar, animal instincts. She needed to hold back. She didn’t want to become the Baroness’s rabbit. She could only imagine what she already looked like, hopping around on her huge thighs with her long ears flopping around her shoulders. It was ridiculous. But she was hopeful she could hold on to her own identity - just as long as she didn’t make any more silly agreements with pixies.

She hopped out into another clearing.

“Ugh!” the girl groaned in frustration. There was no way she was talking to another pixie. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be one around. In the clearing, there was nothing but a small tree. The girl was already hurrying forward, deeper into the maze, when a high-pitched voice took her by surprise and made her stumble.

“Leaving so soon?”

Once she was back on her feet, the girl looked up. Nestled amongst the branches of the tree was, as she’d been dreading, another pixie.

The girl’s instinct was simply to run. She’d learned her lesson. A pixie meant danger, and she should run from danger. Nice and simple. Instinctive. But as she made to hop off, the pixie addressed her again:

“You know, you don’t seem very steady on those legs of yours! If you’re to be the Baroness’s new rabbit, you’ll need that sorted. Why don’t I offer you something to help you with your balance?”

“No!” the girl snapped, very firmly. “No thank you! No! Nope! Not wanted!”

“No?” The pixie raised a tiny eyebrow. “Are you telling me you don’t want to be able to balance better?”

“Well of course I want that!” the girl said, exasperated. “But I don’t- wait, no I didn’t mean that! I-”

The pixie snapped their fingers, and the girl grew a tail.

It was a short, floppy, incredibly fluffy little bunny tail, sprouting from the base of her spine to nestle comfortably against her newly-rounded ass. The girl groaned in despair. How did this keep happening to her? She looked up at the tree, determined to climb it and throttle the pixie no matter how long it took, but predictably enough, they were gone. The girl sighed. Despite all her protests, it seemed she was becoming more and more rabbit with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body; she could feel the changes in her mind too. Her thoughts were growing simpler. More animal-like. Now she had a tail, it was sure to get even worse. But what could she do? Nothing more, she decided, than keep running, deeper and deeper into the maze.

Much as she was loathe to admit it, once she started hopping again, the girl found that her tail was quite the asset. Short though it was, it was just enough to let her counterbalance her new, hopping gait, allowing her to move faster still without placing herself at risk of toppling over if she misjudged a single hop. With that danger remedied, the girl found she was able to take joy in the simple act of hopping around. She knew she was still in danger, but some part of her derived a strange thrill from how fast she could move, and how at one with her new body she felt. She was reluctant to plunge into the headspace, but she found herself slipping deeper and deeper towards it, as the simple, primal joy of racing and running quenched her old, increasingly distant anxieties and fears about losing her humanity. She still knew she needed to get home, but she’d already determined that to do that, she needed to run and hop, and that was so much easier to think about. All she needed to do was run, and run, and run, and run, and run, and-

The girl hit a dead end.

She turned back, and found herself frantically looking left and right. There were no ways out, just a long passageway leading back the way she’d just come. And she could hear close footsteps. The Baroness’s footsteps. The girl panicked, and cursed herself. She’d been so caught up in her transformation, she’d run right into a hopeless dead end - just like an animal into a trap. There was nothing more she could do than try and run back the way she came. The girl set off as fast as she could - only to turn a single corner and find herself face-to-face with the Baroness.

“Hello there, little rabbit,” the Baroness said in a sing-song voice, looming over her. “I must say, you’re coming along very nicely.”

The girl started backing away in fear, even though she knew she had nowhere to go. The Baroness followed, pressing in on her with ease, her spear hefted in her hand. 

“L-l-leave me alone!” the girl whimpered, as she pressed her back up against the thick, impenetrable hedge behind her.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’d make a fine rabbit?” the Baroness purred, the too-wide grin on her face growing wider with each passing moment. “So fine, in fact, that I think it would be a waste to simply dispatch you. No… I think I’ll keep you.”

“Keep me?!” the girl cried out in a shrill voice. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. She didn’t want to be hunted, but she didn’t want to be anybody’s pet. Least of all this sinister fey’s.

“Is that so terrible a fate? I assure you, I can be a kind mistress,” the Baroness replied, as if sensing the girl’s thoughts. “But if you’re to be my pet, I’ll have to give you a name, won’t I?”

“I have a name!” the girl insisted weakly. “It’s… it’s…” She couldn’t remember.

The Baroness ignored her protests, musing to herself. “Oh, I’ve never been any good with names. Let’s stick with something simple… Bunny! Your name is Bunny.”

“N-no it’s not!” Bunny protested, but already, the name was taking hold of her. It clung to her like a spider’s web, no matter how hard she tried to reject it. Her name was… what? If she only had a different name to hold on to it might have been easier, but she didn’t, and so ‘Bunny’ rushed in to fill the void. It proved slippery, sneaking into her memories and inserting itself into her identity in unexpected ways. She tried to isolate it, focusing on the fact that the Baroness had christened her ‘Bunny’ mere moments ago, only to find that she could remember all sorts of people calling her that. She could hear it in her parents’ voices, in her sister’s voice, and in the voices of all her friends. She tried to picture her old high school book; in her mind’s eye, ‘Bunny’ was the name written under the photo She was… Bunny. That was her name. Bunny.

“There. Isn’t that better?” the Baroness asked, her voice suddenly soft. “Poor, confused Bunny. Running around in my little maze, not even knowing who you are. It’s OK. You’re safe now.”

Bunny didn’t feel safe, but already, the Baroness’s enchanting aura was beginning to affect her. Clear thought was becoming difficult. She wanted to flee, and since that was impossible, she was simply frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Here. See?” the Baroness continued, slowly setting her spear down on the ground. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll take very good care of you, my rabbit.”

“I’m not a rabbit! I’m not!” Bunny protested.

“No?” the ethereal Baroness cocked her head to one side. “But, my sweet pet, aren’t you called Bunny? That seems like a very strange name for someone who’s not a rabbit, don’t you think?”

“But… but…” Bunny balled her fists at the unfairness of it, and how hard she was finding it to argue back. Her name was Bunny. That was a rabbit’s name. Sure, it was the Baroness who had named her that, but that didn’t change the fact that it was now her name. That much was undeniable. How was she supposed to argue she was human with a name like that?

“Still thinking like a person? Oh, we can’t have that,” the Baroness tutted. “Allow me to fix that for you.”

“Wha-”

Before Bunny could shrink out of the way, the Baroness’s hand darted out to rest at the side of Bunny’s head. At the fey’s surprisingly gentle touch, Bunny froze, allowing the Baroness to slowly stroke all the way along Bunny’s new, floppy rabbit ears.

Bunny melted.

The girl’s whole body melted. The feeling was indescribable. Shivers ran all across her skin, and turned her muscles to jelly. Bunny felt like her legs were going to collapse underneath her. Her instincts suddenly betrayed her, and she could herself leaning into the Baroness’s touch, nuzzling her ears into her fey captor’s hand in search of more. The sensation was bliss, pure and simple. She’d had no idea her new ears were so sensitive, and even though she knew full well the Baroness was using this new weakness to bring her under her spell, she couldn’t make herself hate it. Not when it felt so good.

“There, there,” the Baroness soothed, her seductive words slipping into Bunny’s helpless ears. “Isn’t this better? Good girl. Good rabbit.”

Bunny shivered. Why? Was she so weak to this?

“Don’t you want this?” the Baroness continued, in her soft, lilting, simpering whisper. “Don’t you want me to pet you like this each and every day? Of course you do, little rabbit. You could have that. You could be mine.”

“N-noooo,” Bunny moaned. She hated how deeply tempted she was.

“No?” the Baroness drew her hand over Bunny’s head in a leisurely manner, before starting to stroke her other ear. Bunny’s bliss doubled. “Aww, I think you’re trying to fight. Are you? That would be very, very silly, little rabbit. Rabbits don’t fight. Do you? Rabbits are so weak and small and helpless. Aren’t they?”

“Y-yes,” Bunny agreed weakly, before realizing she wasn’t quite sure what exactly she had agreed to. “Or… no… no, I… um…”

“Rabbits aren’t very smart, are they?” the Baroness mused, still petting Bunny affectionately. “I suppose they don’t need to be. They’re simply adorable, after all. You should really stop trying so hard, Bunny. Isn’t it tiring? Aren’t you already exhausted, after all that hopping?”

It was only as the Baroness spoke those words that Bunny realized how true they were. She was exhausted. She yearned to slump forward into the fey’s slender arms. But… she couldn’t. Could she? She needed to fight. She needed to find a way home. Didn’t she? It was so hard to keep it all straight in her head. She was tired, and her head was so full of fog. Each time the Baroness ran her hand down one of Bunny’s soft, velvety ears, she could her thoughts being massaged away, all those mental knots of anxiety and fear unraveling harmlessly. It was so hard to maintain her train of thought for more than a couple of seconds. Her head was becoming just as fuzzy as her ears.

“I… I…” Bunny whimpered slowly. “Um… yes… exhausted… yes… mm…”

She knew what was happening. She was being treated like… like a pet. And it felt so right.

“That’s right,” the Baroness crooned. The fey started gently pushing Bunny’s head from side to side as she stroked her ears and her hair. The entranced girl swayed with each motion, unresisting. “Time to do what comes naturally, hm?”

What comes naturally… what did that mean? Bunny wasn’t sure. She just wanted to feel good. She was tired of running, tired of fear. She wanted the path of least resistance. Right now, that meant letting the Baroness have her way with her. Maybe that’s what was natural. But… home. She needed home. She had to remember that.

“N-n-no…” Bunny made herself say, with great effort.

“No?” Her fey captor arched an eyebrow, eyes shining with a mystical, gleeful light. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. Silly rabbit. Aren’t you a silly bunny?”

“I’m… not… not a bunny!” It was getting harder and harder to say each time.

“Not a bunny? But you’re Bunny!” The Baroness laughed. “A Bunny is a bunny, no? That much is obvious, even to an empty-headed little pet like you. And you’re Bunny; we both agree on that. And that means you’re a bunny. Don’t you think?”

“Umm….” Bunny simply could not muster the mental energy to get to grips with what the Baroness was saying. It was so easy to get lost in her voice; in the way it lilted up and down like a half-remembered lullaby. The fey’s words simply washed over her like the rain, soaking her, seeping into her.

“Just look at you,” the Baroness murmured softly. “Look at these.” She gently tugged on one of Bunny’s ears. “And look at this.” Bunny yelped slightly as the Baroness stepped in even closer to her, slipping a hand around her hips and stroking her short, fluffy tail. “There’s really no denying it, pet. Anyone would agree. Don’t you?”

Bunny had no words. The Baroness was so close to her now. The fey was so much taller - had Bunny shrunk a little? - and she had to crane her neck to look at her. When she did, she was greeted only with the fey’s wide, sharp, possessive grin. Bunny’s gaze shot back to the ground. The Baroness’s arms were all around her. The way she was stroking her tail felt almost as incredible as the way she was stroking her ears, and the Baroness didn’t stop there. She drew her reaching fingertips back across Bunny’s hips, lingering for a minute to feel her new, huge, plush ass, stroking up and down along her bare skin. It was all Bunny could do not to sigh and moan. Why did her body have to be so sensitive all of a sudden?

“Oh, these new curves are wonderful,” the Baroness breathed appreciatively. “I told you that you’d make a fine rabbit. I’m going to enjoy these very, very much.”

Bunny shivered with more than just fear at the naked lust dripping from the fey’s voice. But… she had to resist. Had to get home. She had to. She had to.

“I’m… nnnn… s-stop,” Bunny pleaded. It was so unfair. How was so supposed to think with the Baroness touching her this way?

“Yes,” the Baroness readily agreed, quieting Bunny with her voice. “Yes, yes, yes. Time to stop thinking. Time to sink. Are you ready for that, Bunny? Let’s see.”

Still gently and methodically stroking Bunny’s ears, she removed her other hand from the girl’s hips and raised it to her lips, using her slender fingertips to slowly part Bunny’s lips. Bunny’s reaction was instinctive and immediate. She opened her mouth, allowing the Baroness to slip a pair of fingers into her mouth. Bunny suckled on them helplessly, like the obedient pet she was rapidly becoming. She couldn’t help it. Her body was eager to accept the Baroness’s attentions. Maybe it wasn’t really her body anymore. It had been changed; twisted and transformed to suit the Baroness’s whims. She no longer had any doubt her mind would soon follow.

“Good. Good girl.” The praise set Bunny’s cheeks ablaze. “You know, this is one way to tell if a rabbit is nice and comfortable with you. They’ll start licking you and suckling on you. It’s adorable, quite frankly. I’m glad to see you’re getting comfortable with me, my sweet little rabbit. Your tongue is going to be so very, very useful.”

Bunny’s cheeks were still burning, now with shame. She was… suckling? Why? It was so embarrassing. But… she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to do what came naturally. So tired. So easy to sink.

“Now… look at me,” the Baroness instructed. She pressed her thumb up under Bunny’s chin, manipulating her head. Bunny was putty in her grasp. The Baroness tilted her head back, making her look up. “Look into me.”

Bunny met the Baroness’s inhuman gaze, and was enraptured. The colors in the fey’s eyes shimmered, and the rabbit girl felt them shimmering within her too. Her mind had grown soft and sleepy. It was easily dazzled. The last little bit of tension and strength she’d been holding in her body drained away, and she slumped visibly.

“What do you see, little bunny rabbit?” the Baroness asked, slipping her fingers out of Bunny’s mouth.

“I… I….” Bunny murmured sleepily, a small trail of drool escaping her lips. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. She saw the Baroness, and the Baroness was beautiful. How had she ever been afraid of her? This faerie was such a strange, elegant creature. She was magnificent. Indescribable. Compared to her, Bunny felt so small, so humble. But there was safety in that smallness, especially since the Baroness wanted her as a pet. Bunny could scarcely believe it was so. This beauty wanted her? Bunny couldn’t wrap her head around it. But that was OK. She knew the Baroness would help her understand. “Y-you.”

“Me?” the Baroness laughed. “And what am I?” Bunny sensed she already knew the answer.

“My… my… my…” Bunny knew what she wanted to say. What she craved. She just didn’t quite know how to say it.

“It’s OK, sweet Bunny,” the Baroness soothed. The Baroness was so kind to her. “There’s time for titles later. No need to push yourself.” Bunny’s face relaxed into a warm smile. So kind. She was so grateful for the Baroness’s hand in her hair, still softly stroking her ears. The Baroness’s touch was everything to her. “I just need one little thing from you, my precious pet. One little thing. I know, I know speaking is hard, but I’m sure you can do this. For me. Just… tell me what you are.”

“I’m… I’m…” Bunny’s brow furrowed. It was hard. Thinking was hard. She knew what she wanted to say. The words rose eagerly to her lips. But… there was something else, wasn’t there? Something she was supposed to be fighting for. Something she was supposed to be trying to get back to. It was… it was…

Then, the Baroness stroked her ear one more time, and it was gone.

Bunny’s face relaxed into a contented smile. It wasn’t hard at all. She knew the answer. She just had to do what came naturally.

“I’m your pet rabbit,” she confessed, sealing her own fate.

“Perfect! Good girl!” Bunny giggled gently and nuzzled at the Baroness’s arm, as the fey bent down to kiss the top of her head. All memory of her old life faded. This was her reality now. Her truth. She was a pet. She was Bunny.

“Come now, my pet. Let’s return to my home - and yours.” The Baroness took Bunny’s hand and started leading her back through the maze.

“You know the way?” Bunny asked timidly.

“Of course,” the Baroness told her. “Trust me.”

Bunny did. She trusted the Baroness.

“I won’t take long. Believe me, I’m very eager to get you back into my bed.” The Baroness laughed. “Besides being cute and awfully fun to chase, do you know what else rabbits are very, very good for?”

“What?”

The Baroness licked her inhuman lips with a very, very long tongue.

“Breeding.”

—

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[kingofbasicfanfiction]

D. Hale: The Beginning

Stiles looks down when he feels the bed dip. He locks eyes with Derek Hale’s scarlet glowing ones as the werewolf, who’s completely naked, crawls up, over Stiles’ body. Derek staddles Stiles' chest, planting his knees on either side of the human’s shoulders, trapping him beneath his herculean body.

His furry, bull balls rest on Stiles’ chin, and his massive, uncircumcised cock lords over Stiles’ face. Stiles looks up at Derek’s hairy and muscular body with reverence.

Derek grips his cock and starts slapping Stiles’ face repeatedly. Stiles closes his eyes, welcoming Derek’s assault.

Derek gives an approving growl. “That’s it pup, submit to your alpha’s big dick.” He snarls, making Stiles whimper.

Stiles' eyes fly open when Derek’s rain of attacks ceases. Derek’s now jerking himself off, fucking into his palm. His foreskin is pulled back revealing his red, engorged mushroom head, that’s aimed directly at Stiles’ face.

“Here it comes pup! Going to mark you as mine!” Derek warns. Not even a moment later he tilts his head back and roars as he cums. Just before it’s about to land on Stiles’ face, Stiles starts awake on his couch. 

Stiles groans, another wet dream starring Derek Hale. This has been going on for a month now. Stiles gets up to shower and then makes a pot of coffee; he has some enchanted pendants to make.

It’s been 8 years since Stiles stumbled into the supernatural. Since then, Stiles has become quite proficient at magic. So much so that he’s made it his career. Stiles has a magical shop that sells potions, talismans, runes, and wards. Most of his sales are done online.

As Stiles drinks his coffee he looks out into the woods. He lives in a spacey, one floor cabin, just behind his shop. 

Stiles used to be the only member of the pack who still resided in Beacon Hills. That changed when Derek moved back a month ago, coinciding with the start of Stiles’ Derek-centric dreams. 

Stiles was shocked to spot Derek walking around town. Stiles also finds it completely unfair that Derek somehow became hotter.

Derek’s hair and facial hair are styled the same but his sideburns and beard are peppered with gray hairs, even though he’s only thirty. It makes him look distinguished and sexier.

The two of them used to be the same height but Derek has gone through a growth spurt. He’s now 6 foot 9, towering over Stiles. 

And that’s not the only growth Derek’s had. Derek was already built like a greek god, but over the last couple of years he’s added over 75 pounds of pure muscle. Now he’s 300 pounds of werewolf steel, looking like a bodybuilder.

Stiles and Derek have never been close but it stings how aloof and distant Derek is with him when they bump into each other. It’s like even acknowledging Stiles ruins his day. What makes it worse is the huge crush Stiles has harbored for Derek since they first met in the woods.

Stiles groans, realizing that he’s daydreaming about the guy who despises him again.This is getting out of hand; Stiles doesn’t know why this is happening. Stiles hates it, but he's gonna have to ask for help.

Stiles pulls out his phone and calls Scott. After highschool, Scott’s been traveling the world and learning everything he can from friendly werewolf packs he’s come by. Hopefully he’ll have an answer.

“Hey Stiles.” Scott’s cheerful voice answers. 

“Hi Scott, listen, I could use some advice. A new client of mine is a human and dreams of his werewolf packmate every night. Do you have any idea why that is?” Stiles lies. A rune tattooed on his body is hiding his irregular heartbeat over the phone. 

“Hmm? I think I know what’s happening. It sounds like they’re mates. With them being pack, a mating bond has started to form. But for some reason the werewolf hasn’t told the human or acknowledged the bond.” Scott explains, “So no need for magic. Just tell him to tell his mate to pull his head out of his ass.” Scott ends with a joke.

Stiles laughs along with Scott, pretending that he’s not seething with anger. If this is true then Stiles is gonna eviscerate Derek.

“Thanks Scott, you’re a lifesaver. So when will you be visiting Beacon Hills again?” Stiles asks.

“In a few months. I’m in Tibet right now, learning from some werewolf monks. Oh I gotta go, Stiles, it’s time for meditation. I’ll talk to you later.” Scott says then hangs up.

Stiles is trembling with rage as he quickly pulls on some jeans and a t-shirt. He then hops into his jeep. He doesn’t care that it’s 6 in the morning, he's gonna tear Derek a new one.

20 minutes later he pulls up to Derek’s huge house, in the middle of the woods. Derek hired an architectural firm to rebuild his family house. 

Stiles gets out of his jeep and walks up the stairs.

Stiles raises his hand to pound on the door when it swings open. Stiles comes face-to-face with a massively muscular chest in a tight, black v-neck. The dip of the collar shows off the upper portion of the man's rippling pecs and a crop of black chest hair.

Stiles looks up, his honey eyes connecting with the emerald ones of Derek Hale. 

Stiles is temporarily stunned by the werewolf’s good looks. Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles, reminding him why he’s here. Stiles glares as he shoulder-checks Derek, heading inside. 

Stiles winces as he walks past Derek, who didn’t even budge. That felt like shouldering a brick wall. Derek follows him.

Stiles finally turns to face Derek in his large and extravagant living-room. Derek looks extremely nervous and uncomfortable, further raising Stiles' hackles.

Stiles folds his arms as he stares Derek down. “So were you ever going to tell me that I’m your mate?”

Derek's eyes go wide as saucers.

“How did you find out?” Derek asks, sounding defeated.

“What the hell does that matter, Derek? Why didn’t you tell me we’re mates?” Stiles explodes.

Derek doesn’t seem to know what to say. 

“Do you hate me so much that you refuse to acknowledge that we’re mates?” 

Derek’s eyes lock onto Stiles’. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Stiles. I couldn’t ask for a better mate than you. You’re intelligent, brave, loyal, and sexy as hell.” 

Derek openly appreciates Stiles’ appearance, looking him up and down, making Stiles blush. 

“If that’s the truth then why? Why don't you want me?”

“You don’t get it Stiles. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” Stiles cries, exasperated.

“From myself!” Derek roars. Derek’s eyes are shining red and his lips are peeled back, flashing his sharpened teeth.

Derek stalks forward, crowding into Stiles’ space, peering down at him, over his massive chest. Stiles isn’t even the slightest bit scared, knowing Derek would never harm him.

“Stiles, every time I see you I want to rub myself all over you until you smell like mine. I want to take you, impale you on my fat cock, and fill you with my seed. But most of all, Stiles, I want to bite you on your shoulder, and claim you as my mate.” Derek angrily slurs over his fangs. His warm and minty breath fanning over Stiles’ face.

Derek’s beta shift melts away. “But I can’t. Stiles, you deserve better than me.”

This sparks Stiles’ anger. “This is totally unfair, Derek. This involves both of us so I should have a say. Derek, you are strong, kind, and protective. Think about it, I’ve always been the safest when you’re around. You’ve never let anyone harm me when you were nearby. But right now, the only one hurting me is you. Have you not realized that I’ve been in love with you for years? Derek, if you asked me to be your mate, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

Derek clenches his eyes closed, holding back his lycan side. 

He’s being his usual, self-sacrificing self, even though it’s not needed. They both want this so Stiles decides to play a little dirty.

“You know what, Derek? I understand.” Derek’s eyes pop open at this. “You hate that we’re mates because you hate me.” Stiles accuses.

Stiles jumps when a snarl erupts out of Derek. Derek shifts back into his beta form.

“Hate you?” Derek growls.

Derek’s big hands easily spin Stiles around. Stiles then feels Derek slot his hulking, muscular body behind him. Stiles gasps as he feels Derek's huge bulge pressing against his ass.

Derek starts rolling his hips, rocking his hard member against Stiles’ ass. 

Derek leans in and seductively whispers into Stiles' ear, “Mhmm? Are you sure? Does that feel like Daddy hates you?”

That punches the air out of Stiles’ lungs.

Stile must have made a telling noise because Derek croons into his ear. “What’s that Stiles? Do you want me to be your Daddy? To take care of you? Look after you? And fuck you real good? Hmm, Stiles? Do you wanna be mine? Be my good little pup?” Derek sultry growls. 

Derek’s words have Stiles groaning. “God yes, Derek, but only if you want this too. I refuse to go any further if you are against this.”

Derek sighs, tiredly. He turns Stiles around to face him.

Derek wipes his face with his hand. Stiles can’t help but notice how big Derek’s hand is and how good it felt to be manhandled by them. 

Derek's nostrils flare, smelling Stiles’ arousal. He glances at his hands and a naughty smirk forms on his lips. Derek places his meaty mitts on Stiles’ hips. His large hands nearly encircle Stiles’ slim waist. Derek pulls him in so they’re crotch-to-crotch.

Stiles moans as Derek gives a subtle roll of his hips, letting Stiles feel his hardening manhood. Derek leans down, pressing his forehead against Stiles’. “Stiles, I’m sorry for being a selfish dumbass for so long. I’m done denying myself what I want. And what I want is you. Now you better say ‘no’ now or I’m going to kiss you like I’ve always wanted to, pup.” Derek deliciously threatens. God, this domineering and confident Derek is Stiles’ kryptonite.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate. He tilts his head back, allowing Derek to slot their mouths together.

Derek’s tongue licks the seam of Stiles’ lips, wanting entry, and Stiles grants it. Derek rumbles in approval, finally getting to taste his mate.

Stiles wantonly whines as Derek’s tongue thoroughly dominates his mouth.

Derek pulls away, breathing heavily. His eyes keep flashing from red to their normal green. 

“Pup, the sounds you are making, I just want to fuck you right here and now.” Derek groans.

“Derek, please, I want you.” Stiles begs.

Derek gives Stiles a little nip on the ear, punishing him. “Ask correctly, pup.” Derek haggardly whispers in Stiles’ ear.

“Please, Daddy.” Stiles retries. 

Derek rewards Stiles with a kiss just below his ear. “Good boy.”

What Stiles isn’t expecting is for Derek to let him go and take a seat on the couch, with his legs spread wide open.

Derek then takes off his shirt and tosses it behind the couch. Stiles is drooling at the sight of Derek’s ripped pecs and 8-pack, covered in a pelt of black hair sprinkled with grays.

With a naughty grin he curls his finger, beckoning Stiles. “Be a good pup for Daddy and come here.” He commands.

Stiles obeys, nearly running until he’s standing in between Derek’s spread legs, making Derek laugh.

Derek points to the floor. “Kneel down in between Daddy’s feet.” 

Stiles gently falls to his knees before Derek. Derek’s jacked quads bracketing either side of Stiles’ shoulders.

Derek leans back and scooches his crotch closer to Stiles’ face. “Release me, pup.” Derek orders.

With shaking hands, Stiles grabs the waistband of Derek’s sweatpants.

After tugging them down a few inches, Stiles is met with a mass of pubic hair and the thick base to Derek’s massive cock. This proves that Derek likes going commando. 

Derek arches his ass up so Stiles can work down his sweats. When they’re below his ass… THWACK

Derek’s 11 inches springs out. It heavily and wetly smacks against his cobblestone abs, leaving a smattering of pre. It’s a one-eyed monster! 

Derek is uncircumcised. His engorged, red knob is peeking out of his foreskin. His monstrous meat is thick as Stiles' wrist and veiny. At the base of it is an excess of skin. That’s where Derek’s knot forms.

This is followed by Derek’s huge, low-hanging bull balls. They’re the size of grapefruits. 

Stiles’ mouth is watering.

Derek's eyes are burning red, and filled with heat as they catch Stiles’. That’s when Derek grabs his cock and tilts it up, revealing its undercarriage to Stiles. 

“Hmm, why don’t you be Daddy’s good pup and taste me.” Derek suggests but it sounds more like a command. A command that Stiles is all too happy to obey.

Stiles leans forward, sticking out his tongue. 

Derek moans as he feels Stiles’ warm tongue tracing the fat vein running along his length from its underside. 

“Oh, that’s Daddy’s good fucking pup!” Derek praises

Stiles does this several times, licking from the base to the head.

Derek is moaning and complementing Stiles’ ingenious tongue. Derek’s cock head slips more and more out of its hood, and is leaking much more pre. 

Derek gently shoves Stiles' head away. At first Stiles is annoyed but then he watches as Derek aims his cock at his mouth.

Derek pulls back his foreskin, letting Stiles take in its entire, pulsing red mushroom head. Derek’s cock is a thing of beauty.

Derek grips his cock and starts painting Stiles’ lips with his pre.

“Fuck pup, for years I’ve been dreaming about this. Your cute little mouth stretched around Daddy’s big cock.” Derek says, reverently.

Stiles can’t help but lick his lips. He moans loving the taste of Derek’s salty and musky pre. 

This act drives Derek wild. Gripping his fat cock with one hand, he uses the other to hold the top of Stiles’ head, keeping him in place. “You like the taste of your Daddy? Well then open up, pup, here comes your breakfast.”

Derek places his weeping cock head on Stiles’ tongue and pushes forward until ⅓ of his dick is in Stiles’ mouth. Stiles instinctively wraps his lips around the throbbing organ.

“Mhmm, that’s a good pup. Now start sucking for Daddy.” Derek orders.

Stiles hollows his cheeks, sucking on Derek’s thick cock, and licking under his foreskin. 

Stiles moans around Derek’s cock, loving his earthy and musky taste. 

Derek tilts his head back and groans from the vibrations. 

“Fuck pup, your mouth is heaven.” 

Wanting more, Stiles works his lips further down Derek’s girth as he continues to blow him.

When Derek feels his head touching the back of Stiles’ throat, he tangles his fingers into his mate’s hair, stopping him. “You can stop right there, pup. I don’t want you choking yourself. Daddy’s cock is very big.” Derek advises.

Stiles looks up at Derek. Although his mouth is stretched wide open around Derek, the corner of his lips curl upward.

Catching Derek off guard, Stiles dives forward, burying the werewolf’s gargantuan meat down his throat. Stiles doesn't gag. Instead, he moans again, vibrating Derek’s cock deliciously while his throat muscles tighten and relax around his shaft.

Derek’s mouth falls open and his eyes roll into the back of his head. He’s never felt such pleasure. Derek’s dick has always been unnaturally big. Because of this no one has ever been able to take him entirely into their mouth. But here Stiles is, doing it and not gagging in the slightest. 

Derek looks down, over his heaving, mountainous pecs and sees Stiles looking back up at him. His eyes are watery but hold a confidence that makes Derek fall more in love with him. 

Stiles pulls his mouth off of Derek and flashes him a shit-eating grin. “Sorry Daddy, but I forgot to tell you that I don’t have a gag reflex.” 

A low, pleased growl rumbles from deep within Derek’s chest. Derek takes his thumb and runs it across Stiles’ bottom lip. 

Stiles opens his mouth and suckles on the salty pad of Derek’s thumb, making Derek growl again. Stiles loves that sound. It's so hot. 

“Fuck pup, your talented mouth is a treasure. And it belongs to Daddy alone, no one else.” Derek says softly, a dangerous threat underlying his words.

Stiles whines while still sucking on Derek’s thumb. Loving Derek’s possessiveness. 

Derek pulls his thumb out of Stiles’ mouth and grabs his dick by the root. “Back to work, pup. Daddy’s dick needs your mouth.”

Stiles wraps his lips around Derek’s huge member. He sucks on Derek’s helmet that’s still dribbling like a waterfall. He licks under the werewolf’s foreskin, savoring the taste of his smegma. 

Derek’s huge body is shaking, and he’s breathing faster, loving the attention his cock is receiving from Stiles’ mouth. 

Derek grabs two handfuls of Stiles’ hair, gently encouraging his human to take more of him. 

Derek has to hold himself back. Unchecked, he might hurt his mate by going too rough.

Stiles pulls off of Derek’s hardness and looks up at the werewolf, slightly annoyed. 

“Derek, stop holding back. I’m not fine china, you’re not going to break me by going rougher. In fact I want it rough.”

Derek remains silent with a hesitant expression.

Stiles doesn’t feel too guilty about manipulating the brooding werewolf. The guy seems to believe that he doesn’t deserve happiness. 

While keeping eye contact with Derek, Stiles licks the bead of pre forming on Derek’s cock slit, tasting the alpha’s rich pre. 

“Please Daddy, will you stop holding back for me, or do I need to find another Daddy to fulfill my needs?” Stiles moans as he laps up another bead of Derek’s pre.

Derek’s reaction is instantaneous. He stands up, towering over Stiles, eclipsing the lithe human in his enormous shadow. He quickly kicks off the black sweats pooling around his feet. 

Derek’s eyes are burning a fiery red, his mouth is filled with sharpened teeth, and he’s viciously growling.

“No one is allowed to touch you but me! I’ll kill anyone who dares to touch my mate like this.” 

Derek peers down at Stiles, his red eyes filled with obsession. His thick, long cock, throbbing in his mate’s face. 

“Last chance to change your mind, pup. Or I’m going to fuck your face brutally hard without holding back.” Derek darkly promises, making Stiles shiver.

“Yes, please. That's exactly what I want, Daddy.” Stiles begs and gives Derek’s leaking helmet, that’s the size of a kid’s fist, a kitten lick. 

A deep rumble emits from Derek’s chest. “Alright, open up, pup. Daddy’s about to own your mouth.”

Stiles opens his mouth wide, desperate for Derek. 

Without a word of warning, Derek thrusts his massive tool down Stiles’ throat. Stiles’ mouth is stretched around Derek’s thick root and his nose is buried in his hairy pubes.

Stiles nearly chokes from the sudden intrusion, but quickly adapts. He starts working his throat muscles on the werewolf's 11 inches. Stiles also starts moaning, quickly picking up on Derek's love for that. 

From above, Derek groans in pleasure. He threads his fingers through Stiles’ hair on the back of his head, gripping him tight. Next, Derek pulls almost all the way out, leaving only his mushroom head in Stiles’ mouth. Then he thrusts back in, just as hard as before.

Derek’s heavy balls slap against Stiles’ chin with a fleshy smack. 

Derek widens his stance and starts pumping into his mate’s mouth repeatedly. His pace increases with every thrust, working his hips into a blur.

The werewolf's muscular and hairy bubble butt flexes and bounces as he plunders Stiles’ mouth. He’s growling and snarling as he does what he promised: owning Stiles' mouth.

Derek stares down at Stiles with half-lidded eyes filled with lust, as he continues to piston his fleshy battering ram down Stiles’ throat. “Fuck, look at you going to town on Daddy. You must really love Daddy’s fat dick. Well no worries, pup, this big werewolf cock is all yours from now on. You have Daddy’s word.”

Stiles is enthralled with pleasure, the bulge in his jeans attests to that. This experience far exceeds all the wet dreams Stiles’ has had starring Derek Hale.

Stiles moans around Derek’s length, quite literally blowing the werewolf’s mind.

Derek’s a growling and snarling mess. Words of intense lust pour out of him as he mercilessly face fucks his mate's mouth.

THRUST

“There’s a good pup. Keep sucking on Daddy’s big cock.”

THRUST

“Fuck, you take Daddy’s fat hog so well. It’s like your mouth was made just for me.”

THRUST

“I’m getting close, pup. I hope you’re hungry for a big hot breakfast because I'm about to pump it down your throat.”

THRUST

“Oh fuck, get ready, pup. Here cums Daddy!” 

Derek slams Stiles’ face into his crotch, burying his face into his bushy pubes and keeping him there. 

Stiles feels Derek’s beer-can thick cock somehow swell even larger in his mouth, and feels the vein running beneath the shaft pulsating on his tongue.

Stiles gets nervous when he feels Derek’s knot start to expand just behind his teeth. Thankfully it stops as soon as it starts.

Derek tilts his head back, his face beta shifts, and he unleashes a house-shaking roar. 

With that Derek shoots his load, flooding Stiles’ mouth with his piping hot cum. With how much the werewolf is cumming, Derek’s huge low-hangers aren’t only for show. 

Stiles is trying to swallow as much as he can but the werewolf just keeps cumming. So much so that some starts to dribble out of the corners of Stiles’ mouth.

“Close your eyes, pup. I’m gonna cum on your beautiful face, mark you as mine.” Derek warns before pulling out of Stiles’ mouth and spraying his face with his seed.

Stiles closes his eyes and opens his mouth. He feels rope after rope of Derek’s thick cum coating his face. This act of possessiveness and domination has Stiles’ cumming along with Derek. A visible wet spot is growing on the crotch of Stiles’ jeans.

Derek’s body shudders as he finishes. He places the head of his cock on Stiles' tongue, letting his mate taste the last dribbles of his seed.

Derek falls onto the couch, panting, and letting his werewolf features melt away. Stiles isn’t doing too much better. Still kneeling, he rests his head against Derek’s hard quad, breathing heavily. 

The two feel completely exhausted but good. 

A sexy little grin, that does it for Stiles, grows on Derek’s lips. He grabs his flaccid dick, wet with saliva and cum, and shakes it in Stiles’ face. “Now be a good boy and clean Daddy.”

Stiles moans as he happily goes down on Derek, giving his member a thorough tongue bath. He makes sure to lick beneath every fold of Derek’s foreskin. 

When Stiles is done he lets Derek’s dick fall from his lips.

“Good pup, but you sure made a mess of yourself.” Derek comments before using a finger to scoop up all of his cum, decorating Stiles’ face, and feeding it to him.

Stiles eagerly eats it all.

Derek’s manhood starts to twitch. He’s getting hard again.

Damn werewolves’ nearly non-existent refractory period, Stiles curses to himself.

Stiles is considering round two when he remembers that he has a shop to run. He groans before looking up at the werewolf. “As much as I would love to continue this, Derek, I’ve got to get to work.”

Derek looks both sad and understanding. He gives a tentative nod, “It’s okay.”

Stiles rubs Derek’s hairy, muscular thigh that he isn't resting against. “This wasn’t a one time thing right? You still want to be together?” Stiles asks in a small voice.

Derek’s eyebrows furrow. He stands up, and with his werewolf strength, easily picks up Stiles, and sets him on his feet.

Derek's arms wrap around Stiles like bands of steel, securing the human against his much larger body. 

“No. You’re mine, now and forever!” He snarls, flashing a hint of his elongated canines.

Stiles smiles, liking the sound of that.

Derek bends his neck down and slots their mouths together. 

Stiles moans as Derek’s broad and talented tongue slithers into his mouth and dominates the kiss. 

Once Derek pulls back, Stiles is slightly dazed. He’s never been kissed like that before.

Derek looks quite proud of himself. 

“I guess I better get going.” That’s all Stiles can think to say.

A lopsided grin forms on Derek’s face as he nods. “Come back over tonight. We can discuss more about being mates.” Derek once again suggests/commands something of Stiles. Damn, Derek’s dominant personality has Stiles’ legs feeling like they’re made of jello.

Stiles is ecstatic that they'll be meeting up again in only a few hours. “That sounds great! I’ll see you tonight. But right now I gotta go wash my face and change my clothes before work.” 

Derek grabs Stiles by the wrist, stopping his retreat. His eyes are glowing alpha red. “When you wash your face, don’t use soap. I want all supernaturals to smell that you belong to me.” Derek growls out. Fuck, Derek’s possessiveness is doing a number on Stiles’ selfcontrol. 

Derek’s nostrils flare as he sniffs Stiles' spike of arousal. He gives off a pleased rumble. 

Derek calms himself before grabbing his phone off a nearby coffee table. “Before you leave, let's exchange numbers.” Derek orders. Stiles pulls out his phone, completely on board.

Once they have each other’s numbers, Derek turns away from Stiles. “Leave now Stiles or I won’t be able to stop myself from tossing you to the ground, knotting you, and making you mine.” 

Derek’s threat has the opposite effect. “Stiles!” Derek barks, chastising him for the chemo-signals he’s pumping out.

“Right, sorry, I’ll go.” Stiles heads for the front door. Stiles knows it’s not the case, but can’t help but feel the sting of rejection.

When Stiles reaches the door, Derek’s naked and massive body slams into his back, pinning him against the door. He can both feel and hear Derek heavily breathing in his ear. The door is solid and hard but has no comparison to the hulking werewolf crowding in behind him.

Stiles gasps as Derek starts rolling his hips, grinding his fattening cock against Stiles’ jean-clad ass.

“None of that, pup. Before the night is over, I’m gonna plug your hole with my knot and fill you to the brim with Daddy’s cum.” Derek sultry coos into Stiles' ear. He then gives the shell of Stiles’ ear a lick, making the human moan.

It seems to take all of his will, but Derek backs away, freeing Stiles.

“Go now Stiles, or else.” Derek warns.

Stiles makes a quick escape, out the door and down the steps. He then gets back into his jeep.

The anger that was festering in Stiles when he first arrived, is long gone. Now Stiles is overjoyed that the love he’s always harbored for Derek is reciprocated. Even better, they’re mates.

Before starting his jeep, Stiles updates his contacts on his phone. He puts Derek’s number under the name D. Hale. Everyone will think the D stands for Derek, but in truth it’ll stand for Daddy.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Fairy Time and Fairy Hyrule hanging out? :)

- hero-of-the-wolf

I didn’t expect to enjoy writing these two as much as I do. Alskdldjskdj my precious little fairy boys 🥹

No warnings for this one just some light angst

——————————————————

“Come on!” Hyrule casts a glance over his shoulder, smiling through the rain that runs down it in unending rivulets. “It’s not much further.”

Behind him, Time pushes aside a large leaf, seemingly unbothered by the water that cascades from it.

“What do you mean to show me, Hyrule?” He asks, eyebrow raised. The blue of his eye, the navies and crimsons of the markings on his face and adorning his wings — they almost glow in this world of mossy greens and stormy grays. “You’ve claimed that it’s ’not much further’ several times since the start of our journey.”

Hyrule chuckles. He clambers up the slippery surface of a sizable stone, wings spread to help him balance. Time follows suit.

“Well, this time it’s true.”

He comes to a halt and straightens, peering through the downpour.

A fond smile lifts Time’s lips. “Is it now?”

Hyrule grins. “Yup. Cause we’re here!” He spreads his arms in presentation and sends water droplets flying in all directions. “This is what I wanted to show you!”

“A fairy ring.”

Time breathes the words more than speaks them. A quick glance at his awed expression and Hyrule’s face splits into a grin.

It was no easy feat convincing the hero to follow him out here. If he has learned anything about Time in the past months, it is that the man takes his responsibilities very seriously. A brief break to tell stories along a long path, or a laugh with the others by a crackling fire — those he will take. But to leave the heroes, to go off and explore of his own accord, is something he is less likely to do.

The rain, however, had proven unexpectedly helpful. Time is inexplicably drawn to it. It’s as though there is something in its endless curtains of slate that only he can see, a call only he can hear.

It had been enough, enough to coax him here.

Hyrule flits down into the midst of the dancing mushrooms, excitement fluttering within him. There is great magic in fairy rings. Magic to bring a Hylian peace or healing. Magic to make a fairy feel whole.

He has treasured his time spent in the ones back home. They have soothed his aching body and soul, provided salvation from harm, brought him joy and good company. And now, he wants to be able to share all of that with the man who he believes is beginning to trust him.

The man who is becoming his friend.

“I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” Time murmurs, tone distant, fond. He runs a hand over the tops of the delicate fungi, watches as their pinkish spores float lazily upwards. “They’re rare in my Hyrule. Well, in all parts except for one.”

Hyrule sprawls out on the moist grass, stares up into the rain.

“Where?”

He can imagine the slow smile on Time’s face, the almost shy duck of his head.

“Kokiri Forest.”

He comes to sit beside the traveler. His wings waft gently back and forth, sending raindrops dancing out of their natural path. Fairy dust floats around them, enveloping the two fae in a haze of purples and pinks, emerald and blues. Hyrule turns to peer at him through it.

“Kokiri Forest…I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before.”

“I haven’t?” Time’s lips lift in the ghost of a grin. “Ah, well, it was my home. Before Malon, that is.”

He looks up at the sky and the rain cascades down his face like tears. “I suppose, a part of me will always rest there…though I can never return.”

It is silent for a long moment. Then, Hyrule sits up and gently bumps his shoulder.

“You know my favorite part of fairy rings, old man?” He asks, grinning. “No matter how far away you are, no matter how long it’s been, they always make you feel like you’re right back there. Back home.”

Time sighs and it trembles a bit at the end. But he doesn’t pull away from the traveler’s touch. He leans into it instead, if only slightly, and raises a hand to try and catch some of the more energetic pieces of dust.

“Yes,” he murmurs, softly, as the forest sings with the notes of an oddly familiar song.

“Home.”

[hyena-matas]

Sisters, Raili and Raija

Raili was a sister of My grandmorher, never had kids of her own, she kinda was like third grandmorher to me as achild. She fell in love with a Canadian scam man when se was younger, he Brooke her into such pieces she eventually she never loved again, and passed away about a decde ago. I miss her, she was kind, helpfull and truly loving. I miss her and I regret that some toxic person made me run away from Every body and i missed her lasr y years while fueled with alcohol and and helplesness, i fell like i was s burden for her to meet or even speak to. But i think she loved me as i am, truly.

Raija is My fathers mother, so basically The woman who gave birth to a man who would become My worst nightmare. Which is so hard to understand, because she is the sweetest lady whod you ever meet. How would someone like herself raise such and toxic, dangerous and unhealty person. All the the love she gave was in vein. I hope she has found The peace within herself, since she never did anything wrong, except once she got high on clonazepam on her sister birthday birthy and was it was delightful.

I know i should calll her, i want to, but something still need healing before going Back to them, If i ever Will. B

But to me she truly is a woman who gave me My body The Day it is and moves and relaxes. And she has brought lot of good on My charecter. , she made me a good drawer, Explorer and she made me funny. She made me feel beatyful and powerfull, while somehow i have always known smothing she went through is something we dont talk about, and I wish i do not share her future as a crazy old lonely artist who hids parts of herself under bibe, tradition orn fear. When on her age (If i heti so unlucky) i want to dance en in The rain like her without actually doing ot, but The idea is sucha beautiful thouhgt. I Need more thoughts like this and i Will fucking win this war for The mothers before me.

But she is the bestest mummo in The world, when i turned to Vegan she immeaditly made me a vegan pizza with a fucking vegan cheese. Shes an grestt artistwith sculptructing, drawing ne making places feel aeatetich and homely is something few can. I guess The asnwer is prbobabbly behind accepting yotourself as you are and understnding youre worty (and filthy hahaha) of love whatever you Carryon with you from past. And If no one Else loved you, you can. Its takes Time but im sure i Will someday.

Sorry i had mushrooms yesyersay so i feel connectwed to people from past. Its. Good to let it out, please consider it If youre going through something that feells owherwhelming. Sharing is Caring and when it involves a cock count me on, daddy 🥰😘

Tank you for spending Time with My thoughts, hopefully it wasnt all about being loser, but i DI know how to go that best.

I am doing fine, no Need to worry, thanks for asking, im just going through some heavy shit but i can put it on My pictuers and on My stories and songs or even a fucking pornomovie If ot would Make me fwel happy. Not a Bad idea thouhgt, keep asking pervwrerts. Weidr to talk about your Granada and your desire to Be gay pro0stiture in a Woods with Lost of lovely ladys and one special Guy who sing me songs that i love and Make sure i drink enoughh water and hold me when i lose The grip. And fucks me sensless and loves me gently.

[pavitraprabhakars]

hii new poem 🙈🍄

ID below readmore

[Image ID:

THE THING YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT MUSHROOMS (@SIFUNKEL)

The thing you don't know about mushrooms, he said,

something the other farmers won't tell you, is how easy

it is to grow them. Of course they

won't, would put ’em out of business.

I'd be half out already, he says, his

bark reminiscent of laughter, if not for you. So

I'll let you in on this one. Here's the scoop:

those last few slices of bread at the

bottom that you forget about for a little too long. That bread'll rot and

go green — the green that's barely green at all. Ghost colour. Well that's

what you call mycelium. You go to

church? No? It's a lot like prayer.

Thousands of hands joined tight,

tighter than before the drop on the

world's smallest and biggest

rollercoaster. Fingers curling into one

another, like lightning striking itself

over and over until all the heat and sizzle is gone. For what, you ask?

Why, the moisture of course. To suck

in water like a parched oasis. Steals from the rain. My father was a pastor,

you know. He gave me a bible and I

ran out and buried it in wet soil for

three weeks, the lord only knows for what

I pulled it out and saw the

mushrooms covering it

thick as a forest

eating the words

breaking the sugar of the pages down

adam-god-join-your-hands-speak-flesh-speak-yourself-into-existence

youd be surprised by what fermentation does to punctuation

wrapping around capitals and consonants

commas and colons until everything

is an endless line of hunger

pa was mad as hell of course but he only knew the hunger not the meal didnt know it to the grave but his grave knew sprouted tiny red toadstools five weeks in what he didnt realize is the pleasure the kind that makes your eyes close and toes curl cousin to lust sister of love that was coursing through those fleshy fingers in and out and in again warmth of a sunday morning sun and as he stomped about he asked me do you think those damned mushrooms know god boy and i said how do you think he learned to rise from graves pa

/end ID]