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not-a-space-alien · 7 months ago

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Tinytopia Chapter 9: Bloodthirst (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight and my bonus beta reader for the next two chapters, @whumpsday!

In this chapter: Thistle indulges in getting cozy, but finds the house disturbed by yet another new arrival.

With respect to @whumpsday, the og of hungry vampire sadbois, and @entomolog-t, the og of tiny vampires.

***

There were now enough pixies for a pixie pile.

Thistle was ecstatic. He’d grown up sleeping in a pixie pile, and he’d missed it, longed for it, ached for it ever since his separation from his family.

Sleeping on top of Moon was nice enough, but he wasn’t a pixie. And with Marigold here, there were two pixies. Not enough for a pile.

But Jax had a pixie incarnation now. There were three pixies, which met the minimum number needed to be a proper pile.

Moon would be included, of course, even if he wasn’t a pixie. The pile would simply go on top of him.

Thistle made sure everyone had a nice, soft pair of pajamas. Enough thick, fuzzy socks. Enough blankets and soft pads to sleep on. Hot, sweet drinks to sip in the evening before falling asleep.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be perfect.

Thistle cleared enough space in his wooden castle–for once, he was worried he might not have enough room in there for something. He arranged everything just right, plumping pillows and layering blankets and smoothing out sheets. He wove small animals out of plant fiber–such toys weren’t out of place in pixie nests, quite similar to humans’ stuffed animals. They didn’t usually make them bears or cats or dogs, though–pixies had a completely different array of animals that were culturally important.

Thistle remembered his Mother’s Mother’s hive having a nest of ants in the bottom of the structure, tended to like a herd–he couldn’t remember if they’d done anything besides occasionally eating the larvae. It’d been such a long time ago that all he remembered was that they tasted quite good. Before Thistle had left, Mother had been in the process of trying to make space in their tree for clusters of honeydew-producing aphids. She’d also told Thistle that some hives knew how to rear moths or spiders for their silk, which Thistle had always longed to see, but she’d said moths were more complicated than aphids and spiders had a safety risk.

There had been that one time his older brother Oak had brought home a disfigured moth which would have died without help–its wing had gotten caught in its cocoon while trying to emerge, and now it was wrinkly, tiny, and useless for flying. Mother let Oak keep the moth as a pet, even though it had no practical use. It was fuzzy, nice to hold, and pretty to look at. Oak had named it Cattail.

He lovingly traced the memories as he wove, imagining himself making a toy for Dewdrop. Aunt Winter’s new baby, Dewdrop. He wanted to meet Dewdrop so badly. Thistle was really the only one in the hive good enough with his hands to make toys without using magic. He would have been making all the toys for Dewdrop. Had someone else been making them? Was Dewdrop wanting for toys?

He suddenly realized he’d begun crying when a tear dripped down onto the moth doll he’d been making. He slowly wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, then sniffled and straightened himself up.

There was no need to be sad. He was going to have a pixie pile again. Dewdrop was fine, and so was he.

He arranged a moth doll and an aphid doll so they were nicely on top of the covers, then stood back to examine his work. I should sell those on Etsy, too. Everyone would go wild for them. He started writing the listing title mentally. Miniature insect bug arthropod crochet doll lifelike fidget toy Micro realistic choose SET or INDIVIDUAL made to order. He could sell one for $20 or a set of three for $50. Yeah. That would be good.

He walked out and pushed Marigold’s wheelchair to the entrance of his wooden house. “Are you ready for bed, Marigold?”

He nodded.

Pixie-Jax flitted on the roof of the house, jumping down onto the ground. “I am too!”

“Shh,” Thistle said. “Speak quietly. We’re supposed to be calming down now.”

Jax nodded, looking very serious in his oversized pajamas that swallowed his hands.

Moon arrived five minutes after the agreed upon time, as always. He had an eye mask on his forehead and an extra pillow under his arm. “I stayed up late so that I could be tired precisely for this slumber gathering,” Moon declared. “Let us commence.”

“Okay,” Thistle said, trying not to get excited. He was supposed to be calming down. “Moon, you go in first, and then we’ll all get on top of you.”

Moon ducked to go into Thistle’s house. “Good Heavens! It’s a proper cornucopia of comfort in here.”

Thistle poked his head in and watched as Moon arranged himself, pulling the covers back. Moon held his arms up. “I’m ready for dogpiling, boys. Have at me.”

“Okay, Jax next.”

Jax dashed into the wooden structure and snuggled up under Moon’s arm. “Like this?”

“Yes, perfect. Okay, now Marigold.”

Thistle lent Marigold a hand to stand up out of the wheelchair. He supported him by the elbow to help him inside. Marigold’s face twinged with pain as he went down into a kneeling position.

“You all right?”

“Yes–just a moment.”

He shifted to a position that apparently lessened his pain, then gingerly lay down under Moon’s other arm, head on the crook of his elbow.

That just left Thistle. He crouched down and situated himself on top of Moon, so Moon’s chest fluff was his pillow. “Everybody comfy?”

There was a round of assenting sounds.

Thistle reached down and pulled the blanket up, swathing them all, and turned off the light. “Good night, everybody.”

“Thistle my boy, would you pull down my eye mask? My hands are quite full.”

Thistle reached up and pulled the mask over Moon’s eyes.

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Jax.”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

No response.

“Marigold?”

“Good night, Thistle.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Good night, Jax.”

“Good night, Moon.”

“Is this really quite necessary?”

“You’re supposed to say good night.”

“...Good night, Jax.”

“Marigold?”

No response.

“Marigold, you didn’t say good night to anyone.”

“Good night Thistle, Jax, and Moon. There.”

“Good night, Marigold.”

“Moon? You didn’t say good night back to Marigold.”

“Good night, Marigold. Are you quite satisfied now? Have we somehow missed a possible permutation here?”

Thistle snuggled closer to Moon, and Jax copied his motion. “No,” Thistle said contentedly. “I think that’s everyone. Thanks. Good night. I love you all.”

“I love you, Thistle.”

“I love you, Moon-”

“We are not doing all that again. I would like to go to sleep sometime in the next twenty-four hours.”

Thistle tugged on the sleeve of Moon's silken pajamas. “Just once? Just one, Moon? Please?”

Moon sighed. “I love you, Thistle.”

Thistle happily flicked his ears and settled in. It seemed like Marigold had already fallen asleep.

They dozed like that. Thistle could hardly get sleepy with how happy he was. It was so warm and fuzzy, and a soft glow of magic welled up inside him. He just lay there enjoying it.

It was a while later, after he’d finally managed to fall asleep, that he woke up. He wasn’t sure why. But-

Oh.

Oooh.

Marcy’s necklace.

It was sitting on the table–Marcy had left it there today. It was glowing. It’d been soft white all night–but now it was bright yellow.

Yellow. Yellow. What had yellow meant?

Thistle disentangled himself from the pile and snuck over to the door, peeking his head out. He didn’t see anybody.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Is somebody there?”

There came a sound, then–a sort of tittering, accompanied by light flapping. He turned his attention upwards and saw some small fuzzy creature way, way high up near the ceiling. It frantically dashed into the room and smacked into the wall, then tumbled down. When it finally stopped its erratic movements, Thistle saw it was a bat with tawny red fur.

No, not a bat–the real creature emerged from the form of the bat as soon as it touched the ground. It was a fuzzy humanoid with protruding fangs and triangular ears.

The fish tank flipped open. “Yo, Thistle!” Jewel shouted. “Are you gonna wake anyone else up and tell them there’s a fucking vampire in the house or do I need to do it?”

“A vampire?” Thistle squeaked.

“Gotta be. I mean, just look at him. Right?”

The new arrival flipped himself upright from where he’d fallen on the ground, still on all fours, ears pinned back against his head nervously.

“Thistle?” said Moon’s sleepy voice, and his head appeared out the door, eyes still half-closed. “What are you shouting about?” His eyes widened as he saw something was up. “Oh?”

“It’s a vampire,” Thistle said. He looked over. “Right?’

“Well yes but, I’m not–I don’t want to hurt you,” the creature said. His ears were still flat and his voice trembled, as though not entirely sure he would be believed.

Oh, he was speaking Pixish. The language a predator would typically speak if their primary prey was Pixies.

“I’ll go get Marcy,” Thistle said. He looked behind him and saw Marigold stirring in the bed, with Jax not far behind. “...I’ll stay here with Marigold. Moon, you go get Marcy?”

“Am I your messenger?”

“...Yes?”

“...All right.” Moon drew himself out of the house and spread his wings, then took off upstairs.

The new arrival watched him with wide eyes. Clearly he’d never seen one of Moon’s kind before.

“Thistle, who’s that?” Jax whispered.

“Just stay inside. I’ll handle this.” He gave a nervous wave to the creature. “Hi. I’m Thistle.”

“I’m Auburn,” he said. Pixish actually had more words to describe colors than English, with Pixie’s sensitive eyes able to see more with minute differences. He wasn't sure if vampires could see the same way, but the word he gave as his name, Kasabrua, the closest translation of which was Auburn, actually referred to the very specific shade of red in the coat of a fox’s fur. That was exactly the color his fur was, so it was fitting–it was basically the equivalent of calling him “Foxy” or “Vixen,” although Thistle knew those two words had…. connotations in English that they wouldn’t have in Pixish.

“Hi, Auburn. It’s nice to meet you. My friend Marcy is coming downstairs. She’s a human. Is that okay?”

Auburn hugged the wall, like he was afraid Thistle was going to attack him. “Yes. Yes, please, I’d like to meet her.”

Thistle and Auburn kept tense eye contact with each other as Moon came back down, followed by Marcy, still in her pajamas. “Oh my gosh, hi!” she said with restrained enthusiasm. She knelt down beside Thistle, who fluttered onto her lap.

Auburn kept his eyes on Marcy, body tense. He was clearly terrified, but he made no motion to leave.

“He speaks Pixish,” Thistle said.

“Hi,” Marcy said gently. “I’m Marcy.”

“I’m Auburn. You’re really big.” He swallowed. “Sorry, um… I'm not supposed to be seen, and I’ve never met a human before. So, so it’s a little scary.”

“She is pretty big,” Thistle said. “But she’s nice. Do you want to tell us a little bit about yourself?

“Well, um… I heard that all kinds of creatures live here together in peace, even predators. So, so I’m interested in. That.” He flattened himself against the ground, as though to disappear. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Marcy said. “Where did you hear it? Who?”

“A, um. A tree creature told me. A dryad.”

Marcy and Thistle looked at each other.

“Could it be the same dryad that told Jax?” Thistle poked his head into the house. “Jax?”

Jax crawled forward, just peeking out. “The dryad that told me was a big tree.”

Auburn shook his head. “The dryad that told me was a holly bush.”

Okay, they were definitely going to have to coerce Trilloras to come out and answer questions. They’d already tried every combination of begging, coaxing, and threatening they could think of to get her to come out, yet her sapling remained totally inert. They were starting to think that maybe she was asleep or unconscious and couldn’t hear them.

“It sounds like they’re different dryads,” Marcy said. “But that’s okay. We don’t have to talk about them. Let’s talk about you.”

Auburn nodded nervously. “Right, right. Um. I just want to live in peace. So, so if this is a place where I can do that. Then I want to stay here. If that’s okay.”

“Sure!” Thistle said brightly, absolutely delighted. “Sure, we’ll figure out a way you can live here.”

Auburn drew forward slightly. “Real, really? Um, mostly I was worried about…where I would hunt. Um, since–if–it seems like everyone here–”

“We can figure that out,” Thistle said. “We have a trick.”

“Can we talk about it in the morning?” Moon said. “I’m not ready to be awake yet.”

“Right!” Auburn squeaked. “Sorry, sorry for interrupting. Um, you can, you can go back to sleep.”

Marcy looked from Auburn to Thistle, then sat on the couch. “I’ll stay down here.”

“Okay,” Auburn said bashfully. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just to watch things. You’re probably not tired because it’s night, huh?”

“I’m… tired. I could sleep.” He sounded dejected.

“Okay. Um. How do you sleep?”

“On the ceiling.” He looked morosely up at the ceiling. “But there aren’t any footholds.”

Marcy tapped her chin. “Oh! Hold on, I know.” She went into the next room and retrieved Colin’s pullup bar, mounting it in the doorway. “There, like that?”

Auburn clung to the wall with his creepy little hands, shimmying up it until he was far enough to push off and jump into the air. His arms transformed into wings as he flapped them, and he propelled himself up to take hold of the bar.

He hooked his feet around it and hung upside-down, ensconcing himself in his wings like a blanket. “This, this is wonderful. Thank you. I can stay up here?”

“Yeah,” Thistle said. “That’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

Auburn seemed peaceful enough, but Thistle was still glad that Marcy was nearby.

Despite being too tired to function, he wasn’t sure if he would sleep much with a vampire hanging over the room.

***

The pixie pile did manage to get a decent amount of rest in the end. Thistle woke up feeling recharged and energetic–ready for a day full of art. Because that would be step one to welcome a new resident: it was his responsibility to befriend Auburn so he wouldn’t have to hunt. Now that he’d already done it with Severa and knew it was possible, it didn’t seem so daunting. If anything, it was exciting.

True, Auburn was scary. He was almost as tall as Moon. His fangs poked out of his mouth. He clearly was a lot stronger than Thistle. He slept overhead, hanging menacingly. And he drank blood–probably, they hadn’t seen that yet. He’d probably attacked and maybe even killed people. But he was already here peacefully and seemed willing to do what they asked. This couldn’t be harder than Severa, surely.

Auburn was still in the same place hanging from the pullup bar in the morning–true to his word, he was fast asleep and looked exhausted when everyone else was stirring. Teddy and Colin came down, and more introductions were had. Teddy very valiantly hid her disquiet at seeing Auburn, while Colin was concerned about rabies. Marcy reassured them it was safe and that she would handle it, although privately she was also a little bit worried about rabies.

Thistle made the rounds to gather a group for a painting session. Marigold, Jax, and Severa were on board without needing any cajoling. Moon declared he was going to try it, since he was warming up to Thistle’s silly projects. Jewel said he didn’t want to do anything involving paint, since it got all over his skin and felt bad in the water, even if it was nontoxic. Violet couldn’t be coerced to come out even though Petunia definitely would have enjoyed it, but whatever.

“Art is a great way to bond,” Thistle said, laying out his paints. He had Marcy lay out some canvases for them to paint. “It’s a great activity to do together, and you can talk while you do it. This will be a great way to get to know each other.”

“I admit I thought it quite useless at first,” Severa admitted. “But I am starting to enjoy it more.”

“It’s growing on me, too,” Moon said.

Auburn knelt next to the paints, touching one of the tubes. “Great! Um, so, what, what do I do?”

“You, um…” At this point Thistle noticed that Auburn’s hand was shaking. “Hey, are you okay?”

Auburn drew his hand back, then gave a pained smile. “Oh, sorry. Um, I haven’t, um, I’m pretty hungry, that’s all.”

Thistle felt like he’d been smacked in the face. That was why Auburn was tired enough to go to sleep last night? He simply hadn’t eaten and therefore had no energy? He’d been sitting there hungry enough to start trembling and didn’t say anything?

“Hey, we can’t have fun and bond on an empty stomach,” Thistle said gently. “Come on, let’s take care of that first.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Auburn said quickly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“We want to, though. We wouldn’t tell you to stay here and then make you starve.” Oh whoops, Thistle had said that and then remembered that Auburn would presumably have to drink someone’s blood. Thistle certainly wasn’t eager to volunteer himself for that.

Fortunately, Severa spoke first. “I will help you. You drink blood, yes? I have plenty of blood, and my magic is strong.”

Auburn practically wilted with relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Severa reached down and pried one of the scales on her abdomen back, exposing vulnerable, soft flesh. Auburn crept near. “It’s really okay?”

“Yes.”

Auburn leaned over, shaking, and gently made a soft cut with his fangs, then clamped his mouth over the wound, taking small sips.

Severa put her hand on his head. A tear leaked from his eye.

After a moment, he drew back, wiping his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Severa pushed the scale back down, wincing but not complaining.

“There,” Thistle said. “Everyone is okay and feels good. Right?”

Severa and Auburn both nodded.

“Good. Now let’s get painting.”

Thistle guided Auburn, Severa, Moon, Marigold, and Jax through laying out their canvas and starting to apply the paint to it. Marcy participated too, sitting on the floor with a proportional paper.

“So,” Thistle said conversationally as they worked. “Auburn, can you tell us a bit more about yourself? What made you decide to seek us out? Why did the dryad tell you to come here? If you know.”

“Oh, um.” Auburn had red paint all over his hands and was putting paw prints all over his canvas. “Well, my family kicked me out of my colony. So, so I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“That’s horrible!” Jax cried. “I can’t imagine if Thistle kicked me out! Why would they?”

Auburn’s ears drooped, and the motions of his hands became slow and unenthusiastic.

“Jax, he might be sensitive about it,” Thistle chided. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, Auburn.”

“No, it’s okay.” He dipped his hands in yellow and started making yellow pawprints. “Well, I’m, um, I’m a Worthless, so when things got tight, I was the first to go.”

The exact word he used was Struntajo, which meant roughly worthless, but he said it like it was supposed to mean something more. Thistle had never heard anyone use it that way.

“What’s that mean?” Jax said, once again failing to understand what a sensitive topic is.

“We can talk about it later if you want,” Thistle offered, wincing.

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize you’d have no way to know what that is, I guess.” He clasped his paint-laden hands together. “Um, when prey is plentiful, vampires will sometimes have an extra pup in their litters that’s small and weak. If there’s enough to go around, the runt gets enough food to grow up strong. But, but if there isn’t, then the runt is there to take the hit when they have to make sacrifices if things get worse.”

“Sacrifices?” Severa said.

Auburn shuffled his feet. “Leave it to die, usually.”

“That’s horrible,” Severa said, utterly horrified. “They have an extra baby on purpose for the sake of having something to sacrifice if their gamble doesn’t pay off?”

“I mean, it makes sense if you think about it. At least, I mean. My siblings all contributed more to the colony than I did. So, so when resources started getting scarce, it’s better that they could cut me off rather than someone who actually helped. You know? As soon as I became an adult they made it clear I had to leave if I didn’t contribute more. It wasn't a surprise or anything.”

Severa clenched the paintbrush she was using so hard that it snapped in half. “That is a horrible way to think about it. I could never dream of even considering sending someone I’d raised from a little baby out to die just because they weren’t useful enough.”

Auburn shrunk away from the anger in her voice. “Er, well, if there isn’t enough to go around…”

“Then you get more, or you yourself go hungry. That’s what being a mother means, not this- this perversion where children are seen as an investment you expect returns on in the future.”

Auburn rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, well I’m not a parent, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re right,” Severa snipped. “You wouldn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said, trying to rein the conversation back in. “That sounds very difficult. So that’s why you were looking for somewhere else to go?”

Auburn nodded. “I’m bad at hunting. I’m small, weak, not a strong flier, and not good at magic. My family got tired of helping me, so I haven’t been back to the colony.… I’ve been.” Tears welled up in his eyes again. “I’ve been just barely hanging on. You’re the first ones who have been nice to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Marigold said. “I’m surprised to find myself sympathizing with a predator at all, but I truly can’t imagine what I would do if my family were like that.”

Thistle was intimidated to think about Auburn being a runt, considering how very large he still was. Thistle very bravely stood near him. “Do you want a hug?”

Auburn nodded miserably.

Thistle wrapped his arms around Auburn’s midsection, and Auburn’s arms came around him gently.

“Ooh, you’re soft,” Thistle said into his fur.

Auburn chuckled. “Glad there’s something good about me, at least.”

“I am not jealous,” Moon announced mechanically. “I am also soft, and it’s fine that there are multiple soft people in the house that Thistle likes to touch. It does not reflect on my worth as an individual.”

Thistle sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Good job, Moon.”

Moon gave him a thumbs up.

***

@static-stars

@cloudwatchingtoday @theepiccreatorofmagic-blog-blog @waitisthatgt @itssmoltime

@ratcatcher0325 @crazytinygirl @bittykimmy13 @whumpsday @theroyaleemily

@kitn-underfoot

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@predacon-skydrift

@vidawhump

@whumpdreamz

@honeycollectswhump

@imber-rose

#g/t #gt #gianttiny #fairy #giant/tiny #size difference

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allhailweegee · 10 months ago

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MAN HOLY SHIT HOW HAVE I NEVER REALIZED YOU ARE ODD-CHIPS AND YOU'VE APPARENTLY REBLOGGED MY TURBO ART LING BEFORE TOO !?!?!?!

I'M A MASSIVE FAN OF YOUR ART AND I HAVE BEEN FOR YEARS HI. Your kc blog is one of tbose that motivated me to want to start working on my own for a while now !!!!!

Some day in the future I may also be planning to IM you for a commission or two... given the topic of this ask you might already have an idea of what (better said, who).

GIKJFDIMKFD TO BE FAIR!! My URLs are not at ALL similar.

I've noticed usually people share a recognizable element between their art blog and main, but unfortunately, AllHailWeegee has been my online name since 2008 for literally everything.

"Odd-Chips" only came about when I NEEDED some type of distinct art name (it used to be "OrandaTheUnclever" because. I couldn't think of a name and my friend suggested it hILJKFD)

ANYWAYS I DID!! I REMEMBER SEEING IT POP UP ON DEVIANTART AND SCOURED FOR ANY OTHER PLACED YOU POSTED IT HLKFMKLFD I thought I followed you afterwards cause your style fucks, but apparently not! (This Has Now Been Rectified)

ALSO OH MY GOD AUUGGHHHGHHH!! 🥺 🥺 🥺 I'm so glad to have inspired you and that you like my art so much, hrhgrhhgh! q_q)!! I know that the WiR fandom is a bit small now, but that movie still has a huge chokehold on me and I KNOW it does for other people, too. So I think people would go absolutely sicko mode over a new KC blog.

In any case, I DEFINITELY wanted to try to reopen my commissions again before the month is over! When I moved, I ended up closing them and forgetting about it since I was so preoccupied with acclimating to the Great White North, haha! I LOVE GETTING PAID TO DRAW THAT BALD HEADED BITCH. >:)!! (Ask @appelsiinilight, they'll tell you)

#me myself and i #burgerrat

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destroyalovesu · 8 months ago

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@appelsiinilight

citationless behavior

#snail forum antics #text post

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not-a-space-alien · 5 months ago

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Desperate Daybreak Masterpost

This is the masterpost for Desperate Daybreak, the story that is the direct Sequel to Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset.

On AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8 (bonus)

Taglist post (mostly for my own organization, but you can feel free to use it to be asked to be added/removed)

Taglist

@tomato-whump @dragonfireridge @taterswhump @whump-cravings

@scoundrelwithboba @pigeonwhumps @whumpsday @whumpy-writings @fuzzydarkpebble

@melodicnommer @thecyrulik @snake462 @gt-daboss @appelsiinilight

@star-rott @mottinthemainpot @corvidat @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumplr-reader

@honeycollectswhump @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpycries @starfields08000 @scumashling

@demetercabingreen-thumb @bacillusinfection @currentlyinthesprial

#MMSS #my writing

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not-a-space-alien · 8 months ago

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Tinytopia Chapter 5: Endless Rebirth (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight!

In this chapter: Marcy starts to refocus her efforts on life at home, just in time to receive yet another visitor.

Warning: This chapter features a dog mauling that goes slightly above the intensity usual for this story.

***

Out in the park, a young borrower wobbled through the grass. Dirt stuck to his fur and under his fingernails, and he wandered around lost until a tree nearby turned and bent over to scrutinize him through the knots in its trunk.

“Oh, hello?” the borrower said, backing up nervously.

You seem lost, whispered a voice like wind creaking through branches. What are you doing here?

“I don't really know,” the borrower said. “Sorry. I'm all alone, though. Hey, what are you? You're the only talking tree here, I think.”

The tree creaked and swayed for a moment. Then: I am a dryad, and I think I know where you should go.

***

Marcy’s first act as a full-time housekeeper was to take stock of everyone who was already in the house. They’d been managing mostly fine without her, but Moon was right. There were more little creatures running around, and if this was going to be Marcy’s main focus, she could spend her time thinking of ways to make life here better for them.

Thistle had always known Marcy was smart, but he was awed to see her in action. She was a bundle of nerves, of course–she always was–but now that her attention was fully on things here at home, it became obvious just how passionate she was and how hard and quickly she worked. It seemed like her failed PhD program was forgotten almost instantly.

The first step was to help Thistle, who also seemed similarly overwhelmed by everyone new showing up, make his guest book. It was a large book for Thistle’s standards, but small for Marcy–the size that a human could write in it, albeit with some difficulty, and allow plenty of room for denizens with tinier hands to write without being overwhelmed. It was a good compromise–and Marcy got something from the craft store that would be a bit sturdier than a notebook, a bound book with blank pages and a cover ready for decorating. Thistle put off ramping up his sellable art projects for just a bit to decorate it. It didn’t take too long.

Then he went around and made an entry for everyone. Marcy at the same time made a note of their wants, needs, and habits, in case she could spot anything that could be coordinated or made better for everyone.

Thistle insisted Marcy be on the first page. Then the other humans: Teddy and Colin. They were here first, so might as well go in chronological order.

Teddy and Colin were the owners of the house, so it was important to make sure they were okay with everything going on. Well, Colin was the owner of the house, but he mostly cared about using the house to make Teddy happy. Both of them had been pretty gracious about everything, but Marcy would still need to ask permission for major changes. They worked alternating schedules, sometimes on the weekends and sometimes off on weekdays.

Mochi was put in the basement when none of the humans were home–that was just for safety. Marcy’s continual presence there would be good for her, too–the cat would have to spend less time locked away meowing mournfully to be let out, since Marcy could make sure she didn’t pose a threat to any of the tiny creatures.

Then there was Thistle, of course. He was the star of the show, in Marcy’s opinion. He was usually awake at 9 or 10AM until about midnight. He slept either in Marcy’s hand or, more recently, he’d taken to sleeping with Moon on the desk or nightstand in Marcy’s room. He alternated, wanting to sleep with them both but knowing Moon wasn’t comfortable sleeping on top of Marcy yet. He spent most of his days in the living room: his art supplies were on the floor, his little painted castle with his clothes and knickknacks was there, and he could hop up on the couch to watch TV when he wanted to. He made paintings and drawings and clay figurines and sold them all online. He had his silkworms there, too, for petting and taking their silk and the occasional snack. He would practice flying when he had someone to help him–which would be a lot more often now that Marcy would be home basically full-time.

Jewel, of course, spent all his time in the fish tank. He’s been warming up to socializing more, albeit slowly–very slowly. He was free to keep his own schedule, although he was mostly limited to sleeping at night when no one was in the living room with him to keep him awake. Sometimes Colin would talk him into letting himself be scooped up and taken out for various social activities–Colin was really the only one he trusted to do that, although he was starting to open up to Marcy and Teddy a bit more, too.

Violet and Petunia had been given permission from the humans to live in the walls and very rarely came out–they were by the far the most introverted members of the household. When Thistle wanted to get ahold of them, he usually walked over to this little crevice in the dining room baseboard, stuck his head in, and yelled for them. If he did that for long enough, it would summon Violet eventually. He had managed to get them to come to a few social gatherings, but never for very long at a time. Violet always acted like she had places to be and important things to be doing, although maybe that was just because she was jittery, in more or less constant motion. Petunia always loved coming out, although even she would start to obviously lose her stamina for socializing after two or three hours and start to nod off.

Severa spent most of her time occupied with whatever activity Thistle was doing, seeing him as her main source of nourishment now that she no longer hunted and relied on their bond to sustain herself. She didn’t seem to have any strong preferences about socializing or activities, just sort of letting herself be subjected to whatever everyone else around her wanted to do. The only exception was when Petunia came out, because she prioritized fawning over the baby above everything else. She spent most of her time in the wooden house Thistle had helped her put together and decorate, which was on the living room floor beside his own. Every time anyone gave her a gift she did not know how to properly use, she simply put it in there, so that she had a sort of miniature treasure hoard that she slept in like a dragon. But she’d also stuffed the wooden house full of fluff and blankets to make it a proper nest. Thistle could tell it was because she was half-hoping it would host an egg or a child someday, but for now it made it very cozy for Thistle to sit in with her when he felt like it. He was getting more comfortable around her–he wasn’t scared to sit in her coils anymore, having complete confidence she wouldn’t attack him.

Moon kind of wandered around. They were sure to always keep a window cracked open for him, so he could visit without feeling trapped in the house. He vanished into the night outside sometimes, but he spent a lot of time bathing in the moonlight on a windowsill or roof. Thistle kept asking him not to go out and seduce anyone else and Moon assured him he wouldn’t, just that he was often seized by wanderlust that he needed to get out of his system. He complained endlessly about the light during the day, but he’d shifted to more of a half-diurnal, half-nocturnal schedule to spend more time with Thistle. He made himself at home wherever he happened to be–and spent more time than not hanging around Thistle–but apparently felt no need for a house or nest to call his own. He had his magical shrinking wardrobe that seemed to carry every possession he thought worth keeping.

And now Marigold and Córva were here. Marigold was healthy enough that it was probably okay to leave him alone, but Thistle was still loath to leave him for any long amount of time. He spent most of his time in the living room next to Thistle’s house, passing his time doing the exercises the vets recommended for him, writing in Pixish or drawing, watching TV, or reading on Thistle’s phone–Thistle had convinced him to start learning English, although he didn’t seem to be very excited for it. They’d set up a baby gate to keep Mochi out of the room–Marigold was clearly afraid of her, although she’d shown no major signs of aggression around him. Córva hung around outside, mostly in and around the lovely little birdhouse Colin had built for her, and she would swoop down to meet Marigold whenever Thistle wheeled him outside. Teddy brought birdseed out for her, which she always ate happily, though she didn’t seem dependent on it, thankfully, since she was still a wild bird and could come and go as she pleased.

That just left Trilloras, the social-phobic dryad. Planted out in the yard. Thistle had stood by her sapling and begged and pleaded for her to come out over and over again, but nobody ever got any response from her. Marcy was starting to think maybe she’d imagined the whole thing, but Thistle and Moon always confirmed they’d seen Trilloras, too.

He really wanted her to sign the guest book, though.

“Come on,” he whined, lying out in the grass. “Just for five minutes. I won’t tell anyone!”

No response.

“You’re living in our yard, you know!”

No response.

Thistle groaned and rolled over. Marcy retrieved the guest book from where it lay in the grass beside him. “We could just try again tomorrow, hm?”

Thistle kicked his feet. “Why won’t she just come out, though? Ugh!”

Marcy scooped him up. “Come on, if she doesn’t want to sign it, she won’t sign it. It’s not the end of the world.”

Thistle crossed his arms and let himself be ferried back towards the porch.

Marcy smiled at him.

“What?”

“I just think you’re cute.”

Thistle blushed to the tips of his ears. “What am I doing that’s cute?”

“You have so many friends back in the house, but you’re stuck on making one more out here.”

Thistle crossed his arms. “It’s just not right that she’s in our yard and won’t talk to me. Right?”

“Just be patient.”

Marcy stopped. There was a borrower on the steps. Looking up at Marcy with ears twitching and tail lashing. He was young, fresh, and bright-eyed.

“Oh, hello!” Marcy said, keeping her voice low. He must be new. She'd never seen him. That was a different one, right? “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Do you know Violet and Petunia?”

The borrower rubbed his hands nervously.

Thistle leaned over Marcy’s hand, peering at the unknown borrower curiously. “Do you speak English?”

His mouth struggled to form words, then he nodded. “Yes,” he said bashfully. “I’m just shy. Sor-sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marcy knelt down, letting Thistle off into the soft grass. “It’s great to meet you. What’s your name? I’m Marcy, and this is Thistle.”

The borrower clambered down the stairs, hoisting himself with his strong arms. “My name’s Jax.”

“It’s great to meet you. Do you need something?” Obviously it would be fine if he didn’t–Marcy would be excited about any magical creature staying here for any reason at all–but since borrowers seemed so shy, it felt… odd to see one approach so openly and directly, and with no apparent goal, as a complete stranger.

Jax stopped by Marcy’s shoe. Thistle gave little jumps of excitement but said nothing.

“A dryad told me this is a place where lots of different magical creatures live in peace,” Jax said. “Even predators. Is that true?”

“Yes!” Thistle shouted, excited. “Yes, it’s so true! You can come live here, too!”

Marcy turned back towards Trilloras’s tree. “A dryad told you that?”

Jax followed her gaze. “A dryad far away. Is that a dryad too?” His tail swished excitedly.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to come out and talk,” Thistle said sourly. “You talked to a different dryad?’

Jax nodded. “And she said everyone lives in peace here, even predators! I wanted to see it for myself. A bunch of different kinds of creatures living together! Even predators!”

How would a second dryad have known about their house, and why would it have told this random borrower to come here? It was... strange. Confusion overtook Marcy's excitement briefly.

“You’re welcome to see it!” Thistle cheered. He didn't seem to care about the details much at all, too excited about the paradise they were building. “Yes, yes! Come on inside!”

“Er, we just met Jax,” Marcy interjected, noting Jax’s demeanor. “I don’t know if he’d be comfortable coming inside just yet.” And this whole thing felt...fishy.

Jax nervously swished his tail.

“We could bring someone out here to meet you,” Marcy said. She had all day, after all. She could bring Severa and Moon and Jewel and Violet out one at a time and just watch them all talk. The thought made her giddy. This was so much better than a PhD program. “Did you want to meet… A predator?” He’d sounded so excited about it.

Jax nodded. “That sounds lovely!”

“Okay. Wait right there. Thistle, wanna come so you can translate?” There was still a bit of a language barrier between Marcy and Severa, although they’d both been working to close it. But best not to have any misunderstandings.

Thistle nodded, and Marcy picked him up. “Okay. Wait right there, Jax. We’ll be right back.”

Marcy went inside and found Severa upstairs, looking out the second-story window. “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“There’s a new friend!” Thistle said. “Another borrower! Do you want to meet him?”

Severa flicked her tongue out. “Yes, as long as he also wants to meet me.”

“He does!” Marcy said. “He…”

She trailed off, because something caught her eye out the window behind Severa. Oh no. Oh, no. Buster, the neighbor’s dog, was trotting right towards their front yard.

“Shit!” Marcy dashed away immediately, leaving Thistle and Severa in the dust. She leapt down the stairs as fast as humanly possible, nearly falling if not for the bannister. She threw the front door open just as Buster started to bark.

Jax was standing in front of the dryad sapling, examining it while biting his finger. His ears swiveled as he heard the dog rapidly approaching.

Apparently Jax did not possess very good survival instincts, because he turned to face the dog barreling towards him with its mouth open and teeth exposed–and did nothing.

“Shit!” Marcy shouted, sprinting over. “Jax, run!”

It was too late. Buster reached the borrower and snapped his jaws around him. The tiny, furry body disappeared with a pained, high-pitch squeak.

“Buster!” Marcy shouted. “Drop it! Fuck! Drop it!”

She tried to reach out to grab his collar, but he dashed away from her like they were playing a fun game. “Drop it!” Marcy screamed. The image of Jax’s body disappearing into that maw was burned into her brain.

After an agonizing minute of chasing him in circles as his tail wagged, Marcy finally managed to catch his collar. “Drop it! Drop it!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she refused to let go or give up. She forced Buster’s head towards the ground.

Buster finally opened his mouth and let the drool-covered bundle drop into the grass.

“Shit!” Marcy said, seizing Jax immediately. His body ragdolled in her hand, and oh God, there was so much blood.

She clutched him to her chest and went back inside, slamming the door.

***

They made an emergency call to Lalitha and Jaden, but it was obvious Jax was dead on arrival. Thistle tearfully pressed his ear to Jax’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. Severa checked his pulse and smelled him over for signs of life. Moon tried what healing magic he had, but the borrower’s body was so ravaged by the dog’s enormous teeth that he’d probably died more or less instantly.

Colin blew his lid when he found out what’d happened. He stormed to the neighbor’s house immediately, and the volume of his shouting at her could be heard even all the way from Marcy’s bedroom. He couldn’t very well say that Buster had murdered someone, though–so he settled for saying Buster had killed a small animal Marcy had been fond of, which wasn’t exactly a lie, and that this was the last straw and if he saw Buster loose on the lawn again, he was going to call animal control.

The neighbor promised to keep a closer eye on the dog, then got away from him as quickly as possible. Colin was still fuming when he got back to the house.

He decided it was finally time to put up a fence. Their property was big enough that they couldn't really fence in the whole thing, but Colin had enough handyman know-how to put up a fence at least around the immediate vicinity of the house. Chainlink was the perfect option, since it'd allow small creatures to slip through but block bigger ones. The humans all had to pool together their money to get the funds for it, but they all agreed it needed to be an immediate priority. Marcy still walked around looking shellshocked, and she constantly stayed in the same room as Thistle, hovering protectively.

Not even Violet had any success getting ahold of Jax’s family or friends, so they buried his body in the backyard and had a little funeral themselves. Marcy set up a little grave with a headstone, and they all stood around looking very solemn.

“A damn shame,” Teddy said. “No little critter deserves that.”

“Yeah…” Thistle said. He was crying mightily.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Marcy said.

“Um,” said a small, unknown voice. “I could. Who are we mourning?”

All eyes fell on the new voice–which was–

It was Jax. Just standing there at his own funeral. He looked just as fresh and bright-eyed as a few hours ago before he’d been mauled to death. Not even a tear in his clothes, or a hair out of place.

Marcy blinked at him. “Uhhh-” She looked from the grave to the new Jax, as though trying to figure out how he might have crawled out of the little shoebox coffin they’d made him. But no. He’d clearly come from a different direction, approaching while they were all looking at the grave.

“You're dead,” Severa said bluntly.

Jax blushed. “Um, no, I'm just fine. See?” He did a handstand, tail wiggling in the air.

“Hey, uh, Jax…” Thistle said. “You're not… actually a borrower, are you?”

Jax inverted himself upright sheepishly.

***

@static-stars

@cloudwatchingtoday @theepiccreatorofmagic-blog-blog @waitisthatgt @itssmoltime @ratcatcher0325 @crazytinygirl @bittykimmy13 @whumpsday @theroyaleemily @kitn-underfoot

@tinyguy42069

@jewel-fan-wys

@cheeseybeans8

@whumpshaped

@lucentbliss

@alilbitlesbian

@aceouttatime

@alarcomet

@becca-but-bitty

@tiny--pineapple

@bittykimmy13

@whumpsday

@kitn-underfoot

@gt-brainrot

@silent-orchid-lady

@starfields08000

@predacon-skydrift

@vidawhump

@whumpdreamz

@honeycollectswhump

@imber-rose

#g/t #gt #gianttiny #fairy #giant/tiny #size difference

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asktehkoopz · 3 years ago

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[Previous] - [Next]

#nintendask #dungeons and dragons #dnd #TWO (blue) CHOICES THIS TIME INSTEAD OF 3 #april fools shenanigans #iggy draws #april fool 2k22 #Iggy Koopa #Ludwig Von Koopa #Lemmy Koopa #Wendy O Koopa #Roy Koopa #classypartynerdpalace #appelsiinilight #liktyar #alydacat #fruityg0re #anonymous

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allhailweegee · 3 years ago

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AAH IN LOVE WITH WHOM!! (this is about Tim asdfghj)

HILKFJDMLFD HONESTLY I SUPPOSE ANYONE, but the one that came to mind was this loser. This isn't THE "oh" moment, but it'll get there eventually.

THERE HAS BEEN another that's recently wiggled his way into Tim's heartstrings, tho. u_u!!

#i drew something #appelsiinilight

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odd-chips · 3 years ago

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Unprompted by anything, may I apply kiss directly to Ratman’s forehead?

TARGET ACQUIRED.

#I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR ICON IS SO I ASSUMED IT WAS A TINY PAPER GUY #ANYWAYS OF COURSE YOU CAN #my draws #ratman tag #appelsiinilight

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speyerboot · 4 years ago

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I’m still reeling from the fact that Sherpa and Bugsy are actually siblings... (LIKE I DIDN’T HALLUCINATE THAT RIGHT??? LIKE THAT’S CANON FOR YOUR WORK RIGHT???) How was their childhood?? Do they ever hang out??? What’s the rest of the family like?? How do family gatherings go?? What-

Hahaha I'm just happy to see someone interested in this very random tidbit of this AU. I really wanted to give Sherpa some kind of off camera connection to the original story line, and also really enjoyed Bugsy as a character. So I figured, hey we'll probably never actually see him again (outside of maybe a prison cameo) why not expand on his character and give him some fan lore. ;)

here's how I imagine Sherpa and her Brother in their old carter school uniforms uwu

I always saw the way Bugsy carried himself made me think he came from a home of status and privilege. So their family would be semi wealthy. The reason Bugsy turns to the Banzai blasters is because he wants to be in a position of power.

the idea I had for their backstory is they come from a rather large family (having 3 other other older brothers and yes they are all giants) everyone's inscribed in their family except for Sherpa, she's also the youngest (More on this in a future post)

So think typical sibling dynamic where being inscribed meant you were held at a higher importance where Sherpa was just the runty youngest one who had to hold her own.

#appelsiinilight #epithet erased oc #sherpa #bugsy pugsler #random fan lore #Speyer #epithet erased

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skwigle · 3 years ago

Text

@appelsiinilight I MADE THAG POST 20 SECONDS AGO

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not-a-space-alien · 3 months ago

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Tinytopia Chapter 12: Monoculture

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta reader, @appelsiinilight

In this chapter: Advanced botany lessons

***

Thistle tightened his grip on Marigold, to his right, and Pixie-Jax, to his left. “Okay, on three. Ready? One. Two. Three!”

None of them moved.

Moon, hovering in the air next to the tree limb, tut-tutted. “Come on, now, you’ll never fly if you keep your feet on solid ground.”

They were all learning how to fly. Thistle had a new prosthetic wing. Marigold had only recently recovered from a catastrophic injury, and his muscles were atrophied. Jax had never actually flown before.

And they were all discovering just how scary it was to learn how to fly.

“I’ll go if you two go,” Jax said.

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said. “I’m just nervous.”

Marcy was waiting down below to catch them. “You can do it! You can start with just jumping down. Thistle and I were making good progress just doing that. Just jump! Do it together!”

“Okay,” Marigold said. “On three.”

“One. Two. Three!”

None of them moved.

“For God’s sake, do I have to push you off?” Moon said, exasperated.

“You don’t have to be holding each other’s hands,” Marcy said. “It might be a better idea to go separately?”

“No!” Thistle yelped. “I need to be holding hands!”

Marigold smiled. “Do you remember the old, old oak tree where Mother’s Mother taught us to fly?”

Thistle felt warm and fuzzy at the memory. “Yeah. We were so small, and so high up off the ground.”

“You still are,” Moon said, perching behind them in a threatening way. “I’ll push you off if that’s what it takes to make progress.”

“All right, Moon, let them go at their own pace,” Marcy chided.

Moon dropped down, hovering under the branch once again. “Come on, I know y’all can do it!”

“Okay.” Thistle crouched down. He’d done this before. Surely he could do it again! It shouldn’t be that hard! “On three. One. Two…”

An image flashed in his mind, suddenly and forcefully–a startlingly clear picture of him throwing himself off the branch and successfully flying. You can do it!

It took Thistle a moment to remember that was how dryads communicated, beaming images directly into your head like that. He startled and hugged the branch, looking around wildly.

Trilloras was down by Marcy’s ankle.

“You!” Thistle raged. Suddenly he found it within himself to dive down; he spread his wings and flapped in a controlled fall towards her. “You have a lot of explaining to do!”

Trilloras shied behind Marcy’s ankle. Marcy stepped to the side. “Oh, did you come to cheer them on?”

“Forget that!” Thistle hit the dirt and stormed over. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to just ignore us, you know!”

Trilloras scratched the dirt with her foot.

“Here’s something interesting, a lot of new magical creatures are showing up and telling us a dryad told them to come here. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Trilloras’s leaves all wilted inwards, and she dashed away and smacked into a nearby root, disappearing into the tree.

Moon wafted down to land gracefully beside him. “Thistle, my dear, you really need to speak to her less… forcefully, if you want her to be less shy.”

Thistle sighed. “Fine, fine. Sorry.”

Marcy knelt down. “You can come back out. It’s okay. We’re not mad at you, we just want to know.”

“I’m mad at you,” Thistle muttered.

Trilloras very slowly reformed from the bark of the tree, her two beady hollyberry-red eyes watching them all.

“I’d like an explanation,” Marcy said. “If you have one. Please?”

Trilloras’s rootlike feet planted into the ground. Another image flashed out–her roots going down, way down, and something akin to spectral, magical roots branching out even further. The sinuous knots expanded out until they touched a tangled network of similar structures, like a nervous system.

“Are the… dryads all connected? Like vines?”

Trilloras nodded.

“Do you… share information that way? Communicate?”

Yes.

Marcy thought for a moment, then sat back, laughing. “Oh my God. Everyone started showing up here because they heard about us literally through the grapevine.”

Trilloras flashed them an image of Marcy shooing small creatures away from the house–turning them away. Are you going to?

“Thistle, should we tell the dryads to stop sending people here?” Marcy said. “It makes me a little nervous that everyone knows we’re here, but now that word’s out, it seems like we can’t really undo that anyway.”

Thistle was torn. It went against everything he’d been raised with to advertise their location and invite everyone in. On the other hand… it was exciting having new people over. And if they needed help, like Auburn and Jax, how could they say no?

“No,” Thistle said. “Well… not right now, maybe? You’re right that I don’t think we can realistically keep people away now… But I think we’re going to need more space, if, um, if more are going to show up.” Maybe they could have something in the yard, for people who were new and not sure if they were trustworthy enough to let into the house yet?

“I can talk to Colin about it. Thanks, Trilloras.”

“It really would have been better if you’d asked first,” Thistle said, grinding his teeth. “Before telling everyone about all our business.”

“All right,” Marcy said placatingly. “Nothing we can do about it now. Although, um, Thistle is right, Trilloras. Maybe in the future, ask first.”

Trilloras bashfully pulled her arms in.

Marcy held her hands up for Jax and Marigold to step into, but Trilloras tugged on Marcy’s pantleg to get her attention again.

“Oh? Do you need something? Is that why you came out?”

Trilloras nodded, then flashed them another image: across the tangle of magical information-sharing roots, Trilloras showed them the feeling of another dryad: this one in terrible pain, raging helplessly and directionlessly.

“Oh no,” Marcy said. “Does someone need help?”

Trilloras nodded.

“You only came out because you needed something!” Thistle said hotly, prompting Trilloras to scuttle behind Marcy again.

“Come on now, Thistle,” Marcy said. “It's for someone else, not her.”

As much as Thistle loved being angry, he couldn’t deny it was much more in-character for him to help. Thistle crossed his arms. “Fiiiiiine. What's the problem?”

Trilloras dumped a very complicated image onto them: images of a cornfield, a dryad whose consciousness was split between all the plants.

Marcy gasped. “Is there a dryad occupying crops? That can’t be good, right?”

We told her not to. She wouldn’t listen.

“So this other dryad is in somebody’s corn?” Thistle said. “Who cares? She’ll just leave when it’s time to harvest it, right?”

Trilloras looked uncertain.

“What do you need help with, Trilloras?”

Her mind is fragmented. She was too ambitious and took multiple plants. It split her apart as it grew. She was upset her plants were destroyed by humans, so she took their plants instead. Bad things happen to dryads when they take humans’ cultivated, unnatural plants, and even more bad things happen when they take multiple plants. But she would not listen, and now she can’t hear us.

“She can’t hear you?”

Trilloras flooded them with images of this other dryad driven to pain and aggression, stalking through the corn agitatedly. Her mind is gone.

“Okay. That’s… bad, for sure. Are you worried she’s going to be found by the humans there? Or hurt?”

Yes.

“I don’t see how that’s our problem,” Thistle said, still being petty. “Dryads have managed themselves fine without us till now, I don’t see why you have to draft Marcy to help.”

“I want to help!” Marcy rushed to clarify. This sounded fascinating. “But is there a way to help her?”

The forest is coming to fix it. She will die if they get to her before we do.

“Oh,” Thistle said softly. “So, when this has happened before, the other dryads normally just fix it by killing whatever dryad this happens to?”

Trilloras nodded. Sap welled up suspiciously near her eyes. Thistle felt acutely her desire to save her sister’s life.

“Okay,” Thistle said. “I guess we can try to help.”

“Yes!” Marcy said. “Okay. We’ll do our best. Will it help if we convince her to leave the corn?”

Yes.

“Okay.”

She won’t listen now, but if we were there with her, maybe…

“Okay,” Marcy said. “We’ll go there, and we’ll see if we can talk to her.”

Trilloras nodded rapidly.

Marcy held out her hand. “I’ll take you there.”

Trilloras blinked at Marcy’s hand, then eased into it. Her roots grew and entangled around Marcy’s fingers, like a snake. It felt weird.

Thistle climbed into her other hand with Jax and Marigold, and Moon landed on her shoulder. She felt a bit like a mother possum. “Okay, everybody ready to go back inside?”

She ferried the small creatures back inside and set Jax and Marigold down next to their houses. “We’re going on a bit of a field trip to help Trilloras,” she announced. “Does anyone want to come too?”

When Thistle repeated the query in Pixish, Severa slithered over. “I will join.” She climbed up Marcy’s arm rapidly and settled around her shoulders.

“Can I go? I want to go!” Jax said, bouncing.

“Sure.”

“You have to ask if you want some of Trilloras’s hair though,” Thistle butted in.

Jax sheepishly climbed into Marcy’s hand next to Thistle. Privately, Thistle thought having a dryad who was actually willing to talk with them on demand would be immensely useful, so he hoped Jax could manage a dryad incarnation.

Auburn, who’d been clinging to the pullup bar, sleepily said, “I want to go too.”

“Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I want to help.” He spread his wings and dropped down, clinging to the back of Marcy’s head. She briefly had a thought about her childhood fears of a bat getting tangled in her hair.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. I’ll help. I’m helpful.”

“Okay.” Laden with Thistle and Jax in one hand, Trilloras in the other, Severa around her neck like a fashionable scarf, Moon on her shoulder, and Auburn’s little hands gripping her hair, Marcy was suddenly very afraid of falling over. She felt a bit like a rock climbing wall.

She carefully made her way over to her laptop on the dining room table and opened it. She opened it and opened her preferred maps program. (The author will decline to specify the brand since they are not paying for product placement.)

“Can you show us where we’re going?”

Trilloras blinked at the screen, completely uncomprehending.

“This is a map. Do you know how to read a map?”

Trilloras transmitted a single, intense emotion: confusion.

“It’s like–it’s like an aerial view, like we’re flying looking down at the ground. Here.” She flipped the toggle to the satellite view, so they could see all the trees and greenery.

This seemed to catch her attention more, but she merely climbed out of Marcy’s hand and craned her neck in a very interested way.

***

It took some doing, but they eventually managed to get Trilloras to help with navigating to their destination.

Marcy started her car and dumped the menagerie of tiny creatures onto the passenger’s seat. They formed a little pile inside the semicircle of Severa’s coils, which was so adorable Marcy struggled to keep her eyes on the road as she drove.

Auburn snuggled the closest to Severa's torso, clearly trying to gain some maternal affection. Severa’s reciprocation was limited by the fact that he was a grown ass man and not an actual baby, but she allowed it and didn't pull away, which she would have with basically anybody else besides Thistle.

“So what exactly are we going to do?” Jax asked eagerly. “Are we going to fight the big dryad?”

The word big gave Marcy pause. It hadn't occurred to her till just then, but… she had no idea if this other dryad would be the same size as Trilloras or not. “Um, we're just going to talk to her.”

“I'm sure between all of us, we can come up with an appropriate diplomatic strategy,” Moon said.

Marcy was secretly very relieved he was here. As effective as Thistle's “just be nice and make friends” strategy had been… she wasn't looking forward to the inevitable first time it failed. “I hope so.”

Trilloras’s route led them into a dusty back road. The car bumped ungracefully and kicked up gravel. Farmland replaced trees out the window.

“We must be getting close,” Marcy said as the crops changed from kale to corn.

Marcy had to keep prompting Trilloras for directions, but eventually she pulled over at the dryad’s instruction.

The dust settled around the car’s tires and the heat assaulted Marcy as she stepped out into the bright sunlight. A bird cawed somewhere in the distance, but other than that, it was quiet.

She walked around the car and opened the passenger door. The collection of tiny creatures all climbed up onto her like she was a bus.

“Okay,” Marcy said. “Um.” She turned towards the cornfield, unsure of what to do. Trilloras was being incredibly unhelpful with regard to what their strategy should be. “Trilloras, does she have a name?”

Cordyca.

“Okay.” She looked out over the corn, which waved gently under a breeze. “Um… Cordyca? Hello?”

Nothing.

“We know you’re there!” Thistle shouted. “Come out!”

That prompted some movement. Apparently a pixie was a more worthy conversation partner than a human. The stalks shifted, as if with anticipation.

“Um,” Thistle said. “So, we’re here with Trilloras, and, and she says you need to leave, or something bad is going to happen.”

The corn rustled far in excess of what the light breeze would suggest. A single stalk creaked and bent over, pointing an ear of corn directly at Marcy.

“Um.” Marcy clasped her hand on it like it was a microphone. “Hello. Trilloras said the other dryads have been telling you that you need to leave the cornfield, but you weren’t listening to them. We thought it would be harder to ignore us if we came out here in person–I mean, if we could talk face to face.”

A second stalk of corn bent at an unnatural angle, seeming to peer at Marcy’s face, the silk scruff wiggling like fingers.

“Um,” Marcy said. “We can help you relocate, if you want.”

Trilloras climbed up Marcy’s arm, shivering her leaves and roots, clearly communicating with the other dryad privately. Marcy really wished Trilloras would just work with her.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Moon huffed. He removed his sunglasses from his breast pocket, put them on, and hovered in the air over Marcy’s head. “Look here, you, I think what you need is someone to give you a firm talking-to. You can’t keep simply ignoring your sisters, and you can’t keep sitting around here in some hapless humans’ corn being all pissy.”

No response. Moon gestured around. “Look at this place! It must have been cleared for farmland five decades ago! You have to move on! The wellbeing of the collective depends on us all working together to avoid disrupting humans too much. Trust me, I know, and they are going to make sure you do your part even if you don’t want to.”

The stalks groaned and shifted, and the dryad reached out and touched them mentally. It was jarring, scary, and overwhelming in a way none of them had ever felt before. Marcy knew instantly this dryad was older than Trilloras and much, much larger. She was suddenly sweating more.

“Don’t make her mad,” Auburn pleaded.

“Ah,” Moon said, now considerably less confident. “Uh, well, what I’m trying to say is your dryad brethren, or, or sister-en, have to put you down like a mad dog if you won’t behave yourself for the sake of us all, and your little sister, here, Trilloras, cares for you very much and would very much like to see-”

The plants rumbled, now a gathering sound like a predator growling, and the leaves reached out towards him. Marcy stepped back slightly, and Moon grounded himself on her head. “Ah,” Moon continued. “Really, what I’m trying to say is, is, you need to-”

A particularly long stalk whipped out from the field and snapped Moon off Marcy’s head, dragging him into the corn. He let out an undignified scream, which instantly turned into outraged shouting.

“Shit!” Marcy turned and dumped all the other small creatures back into the car. “Shit! Shit! You all stay here.”

Trilloras wrapped her roots around Marcy’s wrist like a bracelet.

“Except, you, yeah.”

“Be careful, Marcy!” Thistle shouted, which was drowned out by Marcy slamming the car door shut, terrified of anything happening to any of them.

“Moon!” Marcy yelled, trying to peer over the stalks, afraid to touch them. “Moon! Shit!”

“You won’t have me like this!” Moon’s voice shouted faintly. “You scoundrel! You bombastic cur!”

“Shit.” Marcy delicately slid her hands between the stalks, parting them. She took a step into the corn–not only did it physically resist her, but it prompted another growl. The leaves near the ground started climbing towards her.

“Shit, shit, shit.” She took a step back, and the corn that had been reaching menacingly towards her retreated.

Moon’s voice was getting further away. “I’ll tan your hide, you rakish ginger-snap! There’s only room for one rumbumptious creature here, and it isn’t you!”

“Moon!” Marcy yelled. “Try to get above the corn! If you can fly back over to me, we can get out of here!”

“You chicken-hearted fribble!” Moon’s outraged voice echoed. “How about a taste of this?”

Marcy heard a jet of fire like a flamethrower. “Shit! Moon, you’re going to burn the field down!”

“Maybe that’s what this white-livered sneaksby needs!”

Smoke rose up over the field.

“Moon!” Marcy screamed. “For fuck’s sake! I’m serious! I can’t help you over there!”

To her immense relief, she saw Moon’s figure flit up into the air above where the fire was. An ear of corn was hurled into the air after him, which he dodged.

“Over here, doofus!”

Moon turned around, dodged a tentacle of cornstalk trying to grab him, and jetted over, landing in Marcy’s hair.

“Fuck,” Marcy said, seeing the mass of plants agitatedly getting more and more full of motion. The plume of smoke thickened. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Marcy dove into the driver’s side, started the car, and slammed the gas. A curling tendril that had been trying to ensnare her back tire snapped off.

***

Well… They hadn’t helped quite like they’d wanted to, but Trilloras seemed less worried–apparently a dryad could survive their plant being burned if they fled. Which was what Cordyca needed to do anyway.

Marcy came out of the donut shop and sat back in the car, turning the A/C on. “We’re clear.”

The creatures which had been hiding in the center console emerged. Jax was first onto Marcy’s lap. “What did you get? What do we have?”

“Um. There’s a few cream-filled ones.” Marcy put the half-dozen donuts on the passenger’s seat with the lid open. “It was cheaper to just get a box of them, so I guess everyone can just have their own.” It was wildly excessive, but whatever.

Severa sniffed the donuts disdainfully. “Thistle can have mine.”

Marcy sighed and pulled up her phone, where the news coverage of the burning field was still going. “I guess just burning the whole thing down is one way to fix it… though not the way I would have picked. Are we going to get in trouble?”

Thistle stood on the doorhandle to peek over the window. “Surely not. Nobody saw us, right? And they’ll be able to tell where in the field the fire started, so even if they saw you, it wouldn’t look like the fire started from where we were.”

Moon stood in the donut box, picking off sprinkles one by one to eat. “You’re welcome.”

“Moon, respectfully,” Marcy said. “If we’re going to meet freaky shit like giant dryads, maybe you should choose your words a bit more carefully.”

Moon reddened. “Ah.” He licked a bit of frosting off his finger. “I suppose I can be a bit overconfident at times.” It was probably as close to an apology as they would get.

Auburn was trying to nibble on a donut and evidently not enjoying the taste. “Is she going to be okay?”

Marcy started the engine. “It seems like it might be clear by now, so… I guess we can go look.”

They retraced their steps, past firetrucks with no sirens going, tired-looking rednecks that Marcy felt the need to apologize to. She pulled over in the same spot as before, then got out.

The field was mostly gone, charred stubble all that was left on the ground. A bit of it was still smoking. Marcy took a few steps in, shoes getting dusty instantly.

She let out a sad sigh. “I’m sorry, Trilloras. We just made it worse instead of better.”

Trilloras slithered down Marcy’s leg and into the fertile soil, picking her way over errant stems. She didn’t seem upset–in fact, she seemed to be homing in on something.

There, pushing its way up between the bits of blackened plants and white, charred mass, was a second dryad. It was smaller than Trilloras, just a whisper of a sprout, and its body was dried and burned like charcoal. It was crying silently.

Trilloras came over and knelt down, scooping up the second dryad into her arms. The crying stopped.

Marcy knelt down. “Is that her?” she whispered in awe.

Trilloras nodded. Everything has been burned away. She can start over.

Thistle hopped down. “That’s wonderful.”

“She can take one of the plants in our front yard, right?” Marcy said. “We can keep an eye on her and make sure everything is okay.”

Trilloras hugged her sister to herself, washing them all with relief and the feeling that everything was going to be okay.

***

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