#giant black squirrel

[arulia108]

Sciuridae

1. Giant Indian Squirrel

2. Eurasian Red Squirrel

3. Tassel Eared Squirrel

4. Prevost's Squirrel

5. Eastern Grey Squirrel

6. Tufted Ground Squirrel

7. Tufted Pygmy Squirrel

8. Finlayson's Squirrel

9. Giant Black Squirrel

[heepthecheep]

Who was going to tell me that the rest of the world has pretty squirrels.

This is the Malaysian black giant squirrel. He looks almost prehistoric, I think he's awesome

The is the Indian giant squirrel. I'm in love, look at that fur color????

Malabar Giant squirrel. He's so technicolor I love it.

[nightingale-prompts]

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.

[syoddeye]

xylaria polymorpha

You pick him. He picks you back. cw: entomophobia, earachnophobia, vomit mention (not depicted), mild body horror, abduction, buried alive (sort of), nonconsensual kiss a/n: AO3

The woods, no matter where you roam, have always felt like a refuge. An escape from your day job and your cramped flat. Far from emails and bills.

The air is cool, laced with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. As you walk, you name the flora around you, half-whispering, half-thinking. Dog's mercury. Lesser celandine. Bursts of foxglove.

The woods are loud in a quiet way. Alive. Wood pigeons cooing, squirrels chittering, a fox slipping through the brush in a blur. You take it all in, breathe it in deeply.

This peace is why you come here. Or part of it, anyway.

Your foraging bag swings at your side, weighted with what you've already found. Oyster mushrooms, chicken of the woods, a single giant puffball. Two dryad's saddles stacked atop one another. Your parents taught you how to hunt and how to identify your finds. You were barely knee-high the first time they took you, holding your hand as you nervously poked at leaves and logs. It's a valuable skill, one you're grateful to have honed. The shelves in your kitchen are full because of it, and on weekends, you sell the excess at the market.

The trees grow taller as you walk, their trunks thick and gnarled. It's darker and colder here, the light barely piercing the canopy. You don't mind, and merely zip your jacket to your chin. The good stuff's always further in.

A few hedgehogs and puffballs later, you see them.

They rise from around the body of a rotting log, black and knotted, their shape unmistakable. You kneel, your heart fluttering with the discovery. You've read about them in books, seen photos online: xylaria polymorpha. Dead man's fingers.

They're inedible, nor are they particularly pleasant to look at, but you reach for your notebook anyway. A sketch and then a picture on your phone. Something to send the parents. But your gaze catches on something else.

In the rear of the cluster, there are five paler growths, different from the others. They stand out, almost glowing against the dark soil. You've never seen anything like them. A mutation, perhaps. Or some kind of bacteria or mold. You edge closer, leaning in, fascinated, and without thinking, you reach out to touch one.

The moment your fingers brush the surface, it moves. And it doesn't just twitch or shift—it grabs.

A cold, wet pressure wraps around your hand. It knocks a violent gasp from your throat, and immediately, you try to pull back, but the grip tightens. Your bag falls, spilling as you twist and yank. The mushrooms clinging to your hands aren't mushrooms anymore. They're fingers—long, sinewy fingers. Pale and filthy, their nails cracked and dark with soil.

You freeze, a scream catching in your chest as the fingers pull harder, dragging your hand downward. Then you see it. The arm . Rising from the earth, covered in moss and mud, thick and muscular. Panic surges up from your belly, burning your throat with its acid. Stomach churning your breakfast as the rest of it emerges. Piece by piece as though being assembled by the woods themselves.

A man. 

And from your knees, he looks enormous.

The body is tall, broad-shouldered, with skin that appears almost translucent in places under the layers of muck and decay. The chest is scarred, torn up, and sewn back together with thin vines and stems. Pocked with keloids and other protrusions that look less natural. Dozens of insects crawl over his skin, falling to the ground or disappearing into the folds of moss that cling to bits of him. One of his ears is a swollen, misshapen thing, his hair shoddily cropped, bits of it stringy and wet, but his eyes lock onto yours—dark, intense, and unblinking.

You can't move. His hand wraps around yours like a root. He towers over you, filling your view, banishing whatever notion of peace you had.

"A woman." He rasps through cracked lips, hoarse. "Were you gonna pick me?"

You try to speak, to say anything, but the words won't come. You're not even sure this is actually happening.

He tilts his head, studying. He squeezes a little, hinting at how he could crush your hand without a thought. Crack you open like a walnut.

The image snaps you back to yourself, your mind clearing with a rush of instinct. You pull, but before you can make any progress, he yanks you forward, then up, like it's nothing. He holds your hand high above your head, and you watch, transfixed, as a spider squeezes itself through the mess of his ear.

You finally find your voice, though you swallow some sick to free it. "What…What are you?"

He doesn't answer right away. His gaze drifts down, then back up again, slow, deliberate. He looks at the overturned bag, his brow twitching just slightly, then returns to your eyes. His free hand lifts, and as it moves, a sludgy drip of mud falls, plopping softly onto the ground. You flinch as he drags two fingers over the curve of your cheek, smearing the mud over your skin.

"These woods belong to me. Everything you've stolen? Mine." His fingers graze you again, feeling the hammering pulse at your neck. "You followin'?"

"I didn't mean to—"

"But you did." His mouth curves slightly. "You touched me. You chose. You thought you were gonna carry me off."

The once-familiar sounds of the forest warp. The birdsong sounds wrong. Off-key and more frantic. The forest closes in. Shadows stretch longer in the periphery.

His hold is what keeps you from collapsing in shock when the ground starts to give way. Slowly, beneath your boots, the earth begins to eat you. Your toes, your ankles, your calves. You pull at his arm, desperate to break his grip, to push yourself free, but he's unmoving, rooted. Then you realize he's sinking with you.

His other hand touches your chin, rough fingers tilting your face toward him. You flinch as his thumb brushes your lower lip, leaving behind the tang of damp soil. The taste makes you gag, and you twist harder, but his hold is unrelenting.

"This is 'ow it works," There is no malice. He speaks as though this is fact. "You don't take without givin' back. Not 'ere, not from me."

The ground rises faster, the earth climbing your thighs. Your breath catches, panic surging. You try to wrest free, but no amount of struggling helps. You're sinking, and he's sinking with you.

"You picked me. This. Made your choice." He repeats, softer this time. 

It's up to your chest. Dozens of tiny legs move beneath the surface, exploring your skin, inspecting you. Welcoming you. Tears blur your vision and slip down your face.

He lets go of your arm now that you're trapped, immobile, and holds either side of your face. He tips your head back up, and just as the world swallows you whole, he plants his mouth over yours.

A week later, the authorities will find your foraging bag beside the log. Its treasures withered to black. They'll call your name and search until dusk, but they won't find you.

You'll be far below them by then, cradled in roots and arms as thick as tree branches, breathing in the forest in a different way. Far beyond their reach, but alive. Thriving. Growing.

[greenwitchcrafts]

August 2024 Witch Guide

New Moon: August 4th

First Quarter: August 12th

Full moon: August 19th

Last Quarter: August 26th

Sabbats: Lughnasadh/Lammas- August 1st

August Sturgeon Moon

Also known as: Barely Moon, Black Cherries Moon, Corn moon, Dispute Moon, Harvest moon, Herb Moon, grain moon, Mountain Shadows Moon, Red moon, Ricing Moon, Weodmonath & Wyrt moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Leo & Virgo

Animal spirts: Dryads

Deities: Diana, Ganesha, Hathor, Hecate, Mars, Nemesis, Thot & Vulcan

Animals: Dragon, lion, phoenix & sphinx

Birds: Crane, eagle & falcon

Trees: Alder, cedar & hazel

Herbs: Basil, bay, fennel, orange, rosemary, rue & St.John's wort

Flowers: Angelica, chamomile, marigold & sunflower

Scents: Frankincense & heliotrope

Stones: Carnelian, cats/tiger's eye, emerald, fire agate, garnet, jade, moonstone, peridot, red jasper, red agate, sardonyx, topaz & tourmaline

Colors: Dark green, gold, orange, red & yellow

Energy: Abundance, appreciation, authority, courage, entertainment, finding your voice, friendship, gathering, harvesting energy, health, love, pleasures, power, prophecy, prosperity, vitality & wisdom

The name Sturgeon Moon comes from the giant lake sturgeon of the Great Lakes & Lake Champlain; this native freshwater fish was readily caught during this part of summer & an important food staple for Native Americans who lived in the region. At one time the lake sturgeon was quite abundant in late summer, though they are rarer today.

• August's full moon is the first Supermoon of the year, which means that it will appear bigger & brighter than the full Moons we have seen so far!

Lughnasadh

Known as: Lammas, August Eve  & Feast of Bread

Season: Summer

Element: Fire

Symbols: corn, grain dollies & shafts of grain

Colors: Gold, golden yellow, green, light brown, orange, purple, red & yellow

Oils/Incense: Aloe, apple, corn, eucalyptus, safflower, rose & sandalwood

Animals: Cattle (bull & calf)

Birds: Chicken/Rooster

Stones: Aventurine, carnelian, citrine, peridot, sardonyx & yellow diamond

Food: Apples, barely cakes, berries, berry pies, breads, colcannon, cider, corn, grains, honey, lamb, nuts, potatoes, rice, sun-shaped cookies & wild berries

Herbs/Plants: Alfalfa, aloe, blackberry, bramble, corn, cornsilk, corn stalk, crab apple, fenugreek, frankincense, ginseng, goldenseal, gorse, grape, medowsweet, oak leaves, pear, rye, sloe & wheat

Flowers:  Clyclamen, heather hollyhock & sunflower

Trees: Acacia, apple, myrtle,oak & rowan

Goddesses: Aine, Alphito, Bracacia, Carmen, Ceres, Damina, Danu, Demeter, Ereshkigal, Freya, Frigga, Gaia, Inanna Ishtar, Kait, Persephone, Sul, Taillte, Tea & Zaramama

Gods: Athar, Bes, Bran, Dagon, Dumuzi, Ebisu, Ghanan, Howtu, Liber, Lono, Lugh, Neper, Odin & Xochipilli

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, challenges, darkness, death, endings, release & transformation

Spellwork: Abundance, bounty, fire magick, rituals of thanks & sun magick

Activities:

• Bake fresh bread

• Weave wheat

• Take walks in nature or along bodies of water

• Craft a corn doll

• Learn a new skill

• Watch the sunrise/sunset

• Leave grains and seeds in a place where birds, squirrels and other small animals can appreciate them

• Eat outside with family/friends/coven members

• Donate to your local foodbank

• Prepare a feast with your garden harvest

• Give thanks & offerings to the Earth

• Trade crafts of make deals

• Gather and/or dry herbs to use for the upcoming year

• Celebrate/honor the god Lugh by hosting a competition of games

• Participate in matchmaking or handfasting ceremonies

• Decorate your altar with symbols of the season

• Clean up a space in nature

• Plant saved seeds or save seeds to use in the future

Lughnasadh or Lammas is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Historically it was widely observed throughout Ireland, Scotland & the Isle of Man. Traditionally it is held on 1 August, or about halfway between the summer solstice & autumn equinox. In recent centuries some of the celebrations have shifted to the Sunday nearest this date.

Lughnasadh is mentioned in early Irish literature & has pagan origins. The festival is named after Lugh the god of craftsmanship. It was also founded by the god Lugh as a funeral feast & athletic competition/funeral games in memory of his foster-mother Tailtiu. She was said to have died of exhaustion after clearing the plains of Ireland for agriculture.

• Tailtiu may have been an earth goddess who represented the dying vegetation that fed mankind.

• Another tale says that Lugh founded the festival in memory of his two wives, the sisters Nás & Bói. 

In the Middle Ages it involved great gatherings that included ceremonies, athletic contests (most notably the Tailteann Games which were extremely dangerous), horse racing, feasting, matchmaking & trading.

• With the coming of Christianity to the Celtic lands, the old festival of Lughnasadh took on Christian symbolism. Loaves of bread were baked from the first of the harvested grain & placed on the church altar on the first Sunday of August. The Christianized name for the feast of Lughnasadh is Lammas which means “loaf mass”.

Some believe this is the time where the God has weakened & is losing his strength as seen in the waning of the day's light. The Goddess is pregnant with the young God who will be born on Yule.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[adobe-outdesign]

A review for usuls when you get the chance?

Usuls are one of those old species of Neopets where they're fairly iconic just from having been around a long time—this is helped by how they're especially popular as NPCs due to being easily made anthro.

Visually, they're kind of like squirrels, but with much longer ears, ruffs, and a few wearable clothing items like bows and ear ties, which gives them some flavor. I'm not always the biggest fan of species that have clothing by default, but at least the bows make sense in-universe and help to balance their base colours.

Usuls start off with kind of a tanish-colored body and all of their base color contained in their clothing and ruffs. I do like the consistency, but it kind of feels like the actual colors aren't prominent enough in the design, especially because the tan isn't neutral enough to not overwhelm everything else. There are a fair amount of colours that do change the tan, but even more than insist on leaving it for whatever reason.

Usuls had extremely dated pre-customization art that would've needed redrawn anyway, so they mostly benefited from conversion—especially because the clothing became optional, and something that can now be removed if you don't care for it. Something about the converted head always seemed slightly off though, like the forehead is way too big. Just me?

Favorite Colours:

Maraquan: Some Maraquan pets that are clearly based off an animal tend to feel forced, but the Maraquan Usul being a snail as a play off the Usul's natural curled tail and long ears works great and doesn't feel weird for the species. The body is nicely illustrated (maybe a smidge too much detail in the ruff, but not a big deal) and the colors work nicely. My only nitpick is that the pink nose feels out of place, and should've been brown to match the shell, but that's a very minor thing.

Wraith: Most Wraith pets are always swirled black with a pink glow, but the Wraith Usul has a bright pink mane as a clear nod to the Shadow Usul, which I think is neat. The expression is fun, and the swirls and shapes of the body are neat, especially with the curl of the tail. Only complaint is that I kind of wish it didn't have a mouth like the actual Shadow Usul, but at least that can be fixed with mouth be-gone.

Pastel: Pastel is surprisingly really pretty, using a soft orange, pink and blue palette and then gradienting the colors from cool to warm and accenting them with solid blue. The colored shading and line work is an especially nice touch that really makes the whole thing come together.

BONUS: The converted Tyrannian Usul is alright, sporting a typical caveman outfit with eyebags, but it's the UC/styled version that really makes this color. I feel like it truly captures the essence of having woken up in the morning and instantly regretting it. I also like the uncurled tail and straight-back ears, and it's one of the only Usuls to not have a giant forehead.

[skyyguy]

I asked @avonne-writes if I could write some dog shifter John, so here's one little thing I came up with 😅

They'd spent the day running around town, finding furniture and decor for the farmhouse, and Gale was exhausted. They got home from England months ago, but still he struggled, finding it hard to eat or sleep, to relax. John, on the other hand, had only taken a few weeks to fall back into an easy rhythm of life. He still struggled, now and again, but he was doing considerably better than Gale was.

"C'mon, boy," Gale whistled to the giant black curly-coated retriever, currently sniffing around the delivery truck. The dog looked up, tail freezing mid wag, glancing over at him with his lip caught on his tooth. Gale rolled his eyes and pat his thigh and the dog took off for him, tongue lolling happily, tail wagging furiously. The dog practically launched his body sideways into Gale's legs, and it was only years of practice that kept Gale from falling over.

"Seriously Jo— Comet?" Gale asked the dog, rubbing his ear. The dog looked up at him, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Impossible. You're impossible."

"Seems mighty well trained, that dog there does," one of the delivery people commented, nodding towards the retriever, "shoot, my wife lets her dog run around will-nilly and the thing doesn't know to come when called, less you got a treat for it," he said conversationally. Gale shrunk in on himself a little, his shoulders tensing and pulling towards his ears, folding his arms over his chest.

"He's not really that well behaved," Gale muttered softly, "he's an absolute menace most of the time, loud and pushy and annoying," he continued, ignoring the pleading eyes of the dog. He knew he'd pay for that later, but teasing the other was one of Gale's few joys in life, and he was going to take every chance he got, even if it was swamped by the anxiety of talking to another person. The man just laughed and grinned a the retriever before turning back to his work and Gale relaxed slightly when the attention shifted. He reached down to pet the dog again and the dog licked his hand in response, making Gale pull a face.

"So gross," he muttered, wiping the slobber onto the dog's head and ignoring the look he got in return. The dog sat on his foot then, nosing at his thigh, tail wagging. Gale glanced at the delivery van and the backs of the men bringing the heavy furniture inside before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. With a soft fine, Gale started towards the small garden outback the house. He brushed his fingers along the blooming flowers, smelling their soft scents drift into the air around him. The dog padded along with him, sneezing as he stuck his nose into a flower, before running ahead, barking. Gale rolled his eyes affectionately as he followed the prancing dog along.

He settled beneath the large oak, back against the thick trunk, and watched as the dog proceeded to run around sniffing, no doubt smelling squirrels and rabbits. Gale watched him, paying careful attention to how the skin slid over bones, the muscle and fat still working to wrap his body completely, like it had before. Gale shuddered at the sudden thought, memory, feeling of icy wind cutting through clothes like they were nothing. The dog must have seen, beause within seconds, the giant black body was draped haphazardly and uncomfortably ontop of Gale.

"Jesus, John," he grumbled, though his voice was tinged with humour, not annoyance, and he reached up to scratch behind one soft ear. The dog's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he panted in Gale's face, breath distinctly minty. Gale rolled his eyes and put a hand on the dog's muzzle, pushing his face away.

"I'm okay, bud, I promise, just thought about the wind over there," Gale told the dog softly, pushing the large body, trying to make it a little more comfortable. The dog whined softly, licking at Gale's jaw, yipping excitedly at Gale's resulting smile.

"They should be almost done, then we can go make lunch, 'kay, Bucky?" Gale asked, rubbing the dog's belly as he rolled over on his legs, paws in the air, head hanging upside down off Gale's lap, "you gotta be human to eat, though, I'm not feeding a dog lunch," Gale teased softly, continuing to pet his belly. He chuckled softly as the dog squirmed on his lap, kicking his hind legs out, tail thumping against the ground as he wagged it. Gale hummed softly— he knew John liked that— and watched the delivery men as they worked the last piece of furniture out of the van and coaxed it through the door into the house.

He didn't realize he had dozed off until a cold wind blew over his face and he shuddered, blinking his eyes open. Gale could smell the incoming storm and he groaned, stretching his arms over his head as he woke up the rest of the way.

"I think we missed lunch," John muttered from where he was laying, head in Gale's lap, eyes still closed as if he didn't want to wake up.

"I blame you," Gale replied, shoving playfully at John's shoulder until the other man sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"It's your fault, you're the one who sat down," John teased before he started to get up, shoving himself off the ground, dusting his thighs and butt off. Gale rolled his eyes as John patted his own butt suggestively.

"Says the one who laid on top of me."

"I couldn't resist, your lap is just so comfortable," John insisted, reaching to grab Gale's arms and helping him to his feet. He pressed a kiss to Gale's forehead as soon as he was on his feet, nuzzling against his hair. Gale shoved playfully at his stomach, bumping his head into John's lips.

"C'mon, let's go inside. Storm comin', don't wanna be out in it," Gale grumbled, though his tone was warm and soft, full of love and comfort. John hummed, off-key, before pulling back, letting his hand slide into Gale's and squeezing.

"Wouldn't want you getting drenched, obviously," John teased, tugging on Gale's hand to pull him towards the house. Gale fell into step beside him easily, brushing his shoulder against John's happily.

"So. Supper," Gale started as John pushed the front door open and pulled Gale into the house, "should we do a pasta bake?"

"Whatever you want, doll," John wrapped his arms around Gale's waist, pulling the shorter man against his chest and nuzzling at the sensitive skin behind his ear, breath hot as it ghosted over the shell of his ear, sending shivers down Gale's spine.

"I'll make your favourite," Gale replied, arching his neck to give John access to the side of his neck, silently asking him to kiss and nip. John was more than happy to oblige, lavishing his lover's neck with kisses and small bites, sucking to leave marks, swaying slightly on his feet. Gale held onto John's wrists, folded over his stomach, and swayed with him.

"Have I told you lately, I love you?"

"Hmmmmm… Only about six times so far today. Actually, make that seven," Gale replied, amused. John grinned against his neck.

Before he even realized, John felt his hips moving, as if he were still in his dog form, tail wagging. Gale blinked his eyes open and looked over his shoulder, confused, at the way John's hips were wiggling. John tried to pull away but Gale held him tight and he flushed deeply, biting his lip.

"What's that?"

"It's… Uh… I…" for once, John was at a loss for words and he looked uncertain, almost afraid.

"Hey, now, none of that," Gale coaxed, turning in John's arms to press a kiss to his lips, wrapping his arms around John's middle and resting a hand on the small of his back as the wiggling continued. John made a small noise— almost a moan— and Gale's eyes light up.

"Y'know I jiggle my leg, yeah?" John started, "well I used to do… this…" he muttered, his hips slowing down slightly. Gale pressed his lips against his again, rubbing circles into the small of his back, feeling the way John's muscles twitched and clenched under him.

"You redirected," Gale filled in.

"Yeah…" John muttered, embarassed, bordering on the edge of shame.

"I like it," Gale commented, "it's cute," he continued.

"I used to call it 'phantom tail' when I was a kid," John said, ignoring his face flushing at Gale's words, "but my parents thought it was weird, so they encouraged the redirection," he explained, shrugging slightly.

"Well, I like it. You don't have to hide from me," Gale promised, relieved when the hip movements increased in speed again, meaning John was back to wagging his phantom tail. John beamed, then, hunching his shoulders to nuzzle into Gale's neck again.

"I love you," he said against the soft, thin skin.

"Make that eight times," Gale laughed, pressing hard into the small of John's back, comfortingly, "now c'mon, you big doofus, supper time."

"Fiiiinnnneeeeee," John whined, unwinding his arms from around Gale, though his hips continued to wag, even as he took a step back. Gale rolled his eyes, letting one hand fall back to his side, the other tangling with John's, pulling him and his phantom tail into the kitchen with him.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 30

 DC prompt where the heroes get magically cursed or changed into animals for a bit. Chaos of course reigns while they are so- though the magician regrets their actions. Wonder Woman is scary enough, but instead of being something small she’s now a very big bear who isn’t happy. Robin? He’s now a goose with a sword and he’s not afraid to continue to use it. Marvel is happily a giant tiger who- oh no now all seven of the marvels are big cats who can apparently still call down lightning. For some reason they change between big cats and domestic ones, but maybe it’s just something wrong with the spell??

 The magician had no chance, even if some were far smaller and less scary creatures. Honestly, who expected a hare to be able to break someone's kneecaps? The villains sure didn’t but here they are, getting defeated when they thought it would be easier to defeat the heroes now that they don’t have opposable thumbs. Well, most don’t, that raccoon somehow found a gun and knows how to use it..

 The one issue the heroes find after fixing everything? They can apparently still turn into animals, sometimes at less than opportune times unless they can learn how to control it. 

Ideas for who is what? (honestly just ideas, do whatever you want lol) 

Superman= Bull Batman= Capybara Wonderwoman= Brown Bear Flash= Hare Aquaman= Elephant Green Arrow= Squirrel Black Canary= Chihuahua Cyborg= Crocodile Green Lantern= Husky Hawkwoman= Golden Eagle Martian Manhunter= Gliding Lizard

Captain Marvel= Tiger/Tabby Miss Marvel= Leopard/Mau Blue Marvel= Jaguar/Bengal Silver Marvel= Puma/Ragdoll Green Marvel= Lion/Laperm Purple Marvel= Caracle/Munchkin

Nightwing= Falcon Robin= Goose Red Hood= Raccoon Red Robin= Hedgehog Kid Flash= Cheetah Superboy= Flying Squirrel Arsenal= Elk Miss Martian= Flying Lemur

Bonus DP Crossover: Danny= Snow Leopard Ellie= Polar Bear Tucker= Sandpiper Sam= Vine Snake

[homestuckreplay]

its time......................... to GET my pour on

(page 980-983 & SBAHJ 8)

^ I’ve been a lot more attuned to parallels between John and Jade since getting an ask about it a while back, and their identical victory dances are a very cute one. Check out these absolute goofballs. <3

First and most importantly, the eighth instalment of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff (/sbahj/8 in the Collection) was posted on around November 29. I just read it today, and it features either Sweet Bro or Hella Jeff trying to pour a glass of milk and struggling to tilt the carton enough, while the other watches through the window and then laughs at a squirrel’s giant acorn. The milk carton features a jpeg of a guy in a helmet who I can’t place, but who looks like something out of GameBro or Grand Snack Fuckyeah.

The squirrel has appeared before in SBAHJ #4, which was also the other strip to incorporate edited photographs, with a picture of Barack Obama. In many ways, #8 is a direct sequel to #4, as both feature the blue character looking through a window, and both feature the squirrel with some kind of treasure. It’s cool to see Dave growing as an artist by establishing these consistent character traits, but out of universe, #8 doesn’t appear to relate to anything happening in Homestuck at this time.

Back in Homestuck itself is the real Jade strife animation, set to the great track ‘An Unbreakable Union’. Bec, we learn, is a dog crackling with lightning and radioactive green energy, who constantly warps in and out of space (?). So the radioactive nutrients in the irradiated steak are probably good for him, and Jade is just caring for his needs the same way he cares for her - she seems very comfortable with his weirdness, which must be a daily occurrence for her.

Bec’s drawn in the same stark, eyeless outline style as John’s dad, Rose’s mom, and Dave’s bro. Due to his design, his being alive, his strife with Jade and his care for her afterwards, Bec seems to have filled the guardian role since Grandpa Harley’s death. This makes him the only guardian with an actual name. This could indicate that Jade has a genuine understanding of Bec, seeing him as he actually is, not as the idea of an authority figure.

The strife itself (p.980) is interactive, but linear. Each round has only one option, always beginning with AR (a nod to Jade’s rifle). We can click that option, and then gain access to Jade’s gun. Clicking on or close to Bec shoots a bullet, while clicking elsewhere does nothing. This happens four times, and on the fifth and final winning round, Jade controls the gun herself after we click the command. Unlike the sylladex escapade (p.808-812), this is a case of Jade and the player working in harmony.

But some pretty weird stuff happens to Bec during the fight.

ARRAIGN. Bec vaporizes this bullet and is unaffected.

ARSENALIZE. Bec turns into a green radioactive energy field. Both Jade and Bec become really small, jump onto the bullet, and ride it to the other side of the island.

ARTILLERATE. Bec becomes a galaxy; he and Jade apparently travel through deep space back into the Milky Way, onto Earth, and land on the frog statue.

ARMAMENTIFY. The screen turns black while a Bec-shaped silhouette of Jade’s island remains. Scenes from John, Rose, Dave and Jade’s stories flash by on the black space while Bec’s silhouette remains.

ARF. Jade shoots away from Bec, playing fetch, and grabs the blue package while he chases the bullet. Bec catches it in his mouth, runs back to Jade and drops it on the ground. She tosses him the irradiated steak. They both hug and celebrate.

Bec is a good boy but he also has far more extensive powers than Jade’s, which makes me wonder if he’s ‘from’ Skaia the same way WV and PM are from the ominous and luminous planets. A regular creature living on this island probably wouldn’t get this powerful. In fact, Bec might be the source of Jade’s powers – if his body can turn into a portal and can cause visions of other characters, Jade could be prognosticating by looking through Bec. Jade definitely doesn’t have control over Bec’s powers, and I’m not sure Bec does either. However he came to it, he feels like a passive yet deadly nuclear power source that acts instinctively, with no intent beyond the dog desires of ‘play’ and ‘protect’. If Bec was an advanced intelligence he’d never fall for a ‘go fetch’.

Jade then falls asleep near the frog statue, and Bec picks her up and carries her to bed, tucking her in so gently. Good dog. Best friend. It is probably the most wholesome dynamic between any two characters in Homestuck, and it’s sweet to see Jade interact with her living pet so soon after Rose’s bittersweet reunion with her dead one. Andrew Hussie recently did a Q&A with MSPA community members which has some cool stuff in it. Here’s one excerpt:

The wild and unusual commands are the ones that really make it feel like a gaggle of whimsical readers is in charge, imbuing the narrative with a sense of freedom, a feeling that the hero could do truly anything. The essence of freedom in this sense is the uncompromising subjugation of restraint. It is possible that this is also the exact opposite of what a good story requires! [full interview here; emphasis mine]

Homestuck does have that whimsical, anything could happen feeling to it, but it does also have this really earnest core of themes that are common to a lot of stories – family relationships being one of the biggest. It’s unexpected that Jade’s pet is a dimension warping dog but beneath the outracing bullets and radioactive steaks is a relationship that’s no different to one in Marley & Me. So it’s interesting to know that there is a conscious effort to keep this story recognizable in some ways, even while it’s very experimental in others.

So now we’ve seen all four guardian strifes, and can lay out some quick comparisons! John (p.90), Rose (p.388) and Dave (p.836), all fighting humans, were overcoming an obstacle and facing hostility, while Jade (p.980), fighting a dog, was playing a game. John and Jade were trying to collect a package, John and Dave were trying to collect Sburb Beta discs, and Rose was trying to leave the house and reconnect to Sburb. John and Rose’s strifes contain the same music they played on their instruments – ‘Showtime’ and ‘Aggrieve’ – while Dave and Jade’s have brand new music tracks.

John, Rose and Jade all have interactive strifes, where A-command words can be selected in any order (John, Rose) or linearly (Jade) by the reader, before a non-interactive ending. Dave’s strife is not interactive, as his bro destroys the command menu. This suggests to me that while Jade is the most aware of the fourth wall out of the kids, Bro is most aware out of the guardians. But more generally, the differences keep the story fresh. It’s playing with patterns instead of working to formulas, being actively written instead of churned out like a sitcom episode. I think that contributes to it feeling like something to be a part of, not just something to passively read.

> Jade: Wake up and open your birthday present!

[delta-pavonis]

more doctor/curator pleeeaaaase? xo @hardly-an-escape

Far be it from me to deny anyone of more of these two sweet little whores... (I really really like them and will be back to their unhinged shenanigans after the Bang). More under the cut in the middle because NSFW.

Hob is shocked they make it past the entryway after the door to his flat closes behind them. 

But, let's be clear, the only reason they do is because Dream sees the tapestry that hangs in the library that opens to the left of the foyer.

The room has no windows, bookshelves from floor to high ceilings on all vertical surfaces except for the rectangle of glass that encases the textile art in a climate-controlled space. 

“My God, Hob,” Dream is walking towards it like he is being pulled in by a tractor beam on some spaceship, floating and not of his own volition. “Is this real?”

He comes up behind Dream and wraps his arms around the curator. “Aye,” he rests his chin on a black-clad shoulder, “family heirloom, late 14th century. The story is that one of my ancestors learned tapestry weaving in Paris and brought it back to Kent, taught her children, and their children. Gadling-made work supposedly hung in most castles in southern Britain by the mid-15th century. But this one was kept by the family. Why this particular tapestry over others is lost to time.”

A giant white horse rears up across the silken surface, narrowly avoiding the wolves that attack and weave around its legs. In the forest other beasts watch: owls, foxes, deer, squirrels, songbirds. It is very clearly not a unicorn, which is fascinating because it loses the religious symbolism typical of the period. The sun is setting in the background, making the leaves glow with a burnished copper color. 

“It is exquisite,” Dream whispers, leaning back into Hob. “And explains your preference for the Middle Ages.”

“Got it in one,” Hob chuckles. He pushes his hands up the front of Dream's shirt, presses his palms to the flat of his abdomen and digs his fingertips into the trail of dark hair that runs down the center.

Dream sways into it, going pliant in Hob's embrace. “So what's your desired order of operations, doctor? Far be it from me to choose a schedule that might endanger the lives of others by leaving you short on sleep.” He grabs one of Hob's hands and slides it down into his pants, where his cock is sticky and half-hard already. “Also, I think I have a Christmas present I might request of you.” He presses his arse into Hob's groin with a rolling motion, arching his back and moaning obscenely loud when Hob's fingers find the frenum piercing.

Fucking hell this man is such a perfect whore.

“Oh?” Hob murmurs, far more focused on cataloging every little sound and twitch that different tugs and twists of the piercing bring about. Dream is rock hard again within seconds, practically writhing against him, yet he is also the one stringing sentences together.

“Oh yes,” he rocks forward into Hob's hand then back into his crotch. “I want to ride your face until I come with your tongue buried in my arse, then turn around and ride your cock until I come again.”

Hob shivers and groans and uses his free hand to open Dream's fly so he has the space to fondle his bollocks. “You want that before or after I put on my leathers and ride you?” 

Dream cries out again, a generous spurt of precum ending up on Hob's hand when he tugs and twists the piercing; apparently a touch of pain isn't bad for this little dove. “Oh, after. Then I'll be on your face longer, waiting for my dick to get back into the game.”

“Mmm, then you'll be riding me even longer after that, just like you want, you insatiable slut.” Hob sucks on the side of his neck, digs his teeth in to bring a bruise to bloom. Dream moans and bucks with the hardest presses of teeth. “Like some pain with your pleasure, dove?”

“Only in small doses.” His long arms swing up and behind Hob's head, tugging his mouth back to his neck. “You?”

Hob gets distracted by expanding the hickey so it flows down to the top of Dream's shoulder. “Not my jam, but I am more than happy to do just about anything that turns my partner on.”

Dream laughs, breathless and happy-sounding, “No wonder you get typecast as a service top.”

Frustrated with the obstacle, Hob pulls Dream's shirt off, flings it somewhere to the side, then continues to paint the skin of his shoulder red and purple with his teeth. “And does everyone assume you're the twinky bottom?” He strokes Dream's cock slowly and grinds his own arousal into that pert little arse.

A gasp interrupts Dream's continued laughing as he grinds back, so much harder than before. “I love surprising people. Upending their expectations. Watching them lose their minds as I expertly take them apart, piece by piece.”

“Expertly?” He can't help but ask.

“What do they say, ten thousand hours to master a skill?” Dream sounds like such a smug little shit and Hob is beyond feral about it.

He moves one hand up to play with the hair on Dream’s chest, to tweak a nipple and hear that lovely little gasp again. “And how much practice have you had, sweet thing?”

“You sure you want the honest answer to that?” He can hear Dream's raised eyebrow.

“Go ahead. Shock me.”

“I stopped counting at one hundred seventy nine different partners.” 

Hob freezes, a whine oozing out through his teeth. Bloody fuck. 

“Hob?”

“Yeah, give me a sec. If I don't dissociate for a minute I am gonna come in my pants because Christ that is hot. Also explains a lot. My God, how many of those were multiples at once?”

Dream's laugh this time is a deep, sensuous rumble. “Not as many as you might think. And I’ve only been gang banged once.” He turns in Hob's arms, dislodging Hob's hand from his prick and leaning in to speak against Hob's lips, “But that was a long time ago. Now I am more interested in exploring how many different sensations I can have with one partner.”

“Oh, so you plan on going full fluid bond with me, do you?”

The blush on Dream’s face is a gorgeous, deep rose red. “I…” he looks down and away for only a moment and then holds his chin up high, proud and perfect, “yes.”

[lythiannatheultimate]

Here is some Punch-out headcannons for a story I made called Attack Of The Slaughter

By the way, this was based off Island of the slaughtered.

🇫🇷 Glass Joe❤

•Almost died

•A bunch of glass fell on him and now he has cuts all around his body

•Almost sacrificed himself for Von

•Him and von got rescued by Aran, Hondo, and Tiger.

•terrified for his life

🇩🇪 Von Kaiser🔩

•Almost died

•Got attacked by a giant bloodthirsty black eagle

•Tried to sacrifice himself for Joe

•Got rescued by Aran, Hondo, and Tiger

•Tried to be brave like the warrior he is

🇺🇸 Disco kid🎧

•Petrified

•Almost got crushed to death but managed to escape

•I swear this man scared everyone when he got mad

•protected Aran at all cost even though Aran told him not to

•Scariest experience in his life

🇦🇬 King Hippo🏝

•Sadly didn't make it

•His death was one of the saddest

•He tried to escape but the killer caught up to him and split his stomach open

•Mad clown got upset from this

•Cried when he died

🇯🇵 Piston Hondo/Honda🍣

•Survived

•Rescued a couple people

•Alive because Bear saved him

•has the most depression out of all of them

•Losing bear made him incredibly sad

🇨🇦 Bear Hugger🏔

•sadly did not make it

•the saddest death

•sacrificed himself for Hondo

•mauled by a bear

•luckily, Aran saved chip (His pet squirrel)

🇮🇳 Great Tiger🕌

•Survived

•helped people get to the boat

•saw Hondo with a wound and helped him

•Got upset when Aran started crying

•helped save people

🇪🇸Don flamenco🌹

• Went through the most

•Had an incredibly bad fight with Carmen and he lost it

•Carmen "died" after the fight because she got ran over

•Don hated himself for everything

•Will never forget her

🇮🇪 Aran Ryan🔪

•protected everyone with his life

•Actually started crying when he thought soda was going to die

•got horrified when Disco Kid screamed out of anger

•went through so much torture but managed to survive

•Helped save people

🇷🇺 Soda Popinski🍾

•almost died because his soda was poisoned

•Gave Aran a GIANT hug after they fled away from the island

•scared

•upset

•brung king hippos crown, and Bear hugger's overalls and squirrel

🇹🇷 Bald bull🏋

•Made it, but he really wishes he didn't

•upset that anyone would do this

•sad

•wants to die

•All he wanted was a happy life and look where this got him

🇺🇸 Super Macho Man🌊

•surprisingly alive

•Actually terrified from this

•saved Narcis, Heike, and Dragon Chan

•Upset about this situation

•Narcis tried to make him feel better, and it actually worked

🇺🇸 Mr.Sandman🏋

•Survived

•saved the ref (Tony)

•glad that Hondo is safe

•So thankful for Tony still being alive

•overall sad

🇳🇴 Alice🔧

•crying from fear

•she is only 11 which makes all of this worse for her

•everyone made sure to protect her at all cost

•terrified

•perfectly safe

🇨🇳 Dragon Chan🏯

•Saved by macho

• tried his hardest to fight back

•terrified but still fights anyway

•known to be a fighter

•now has schizophrenia

🇬🇧 Narcis Prince🎽

•terrified

•Macho saved him

•crying

•muscle forced Narcis to do very bad things(Muscle is the killer)

•covered with bite marks, bruises, and sweat.

🇧🇪 Nick bruiser🏋

•Was actually happy when Rick died

•helped save Hondo

•Incredibly protective of Alice

•Helped save Doc Louis

•was done with Rick's bullshit

🇺🇸 Little Mac🏆

•Survived because doc saved him

•Terrified

•Ended up actually talking

•Sad

•Cold and depressed

🇫🇷 gabby Jay💊

•sadly did not make it

•Got a concussion when he was running and got stabbed in the head

•dropped his pills

•told Joe to leave without him

•his death made Joe burst into tears

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Teetering

Tw/Swearing.

Ao3

Previous-Next

There was no sun here, but the day was bright as Damien ran through the garden. The plants chased after him, vines and roots snaking and snapping around his feet. Above him, Phantom floated, weaving in and out of branches. Suddenly, a willow branch snapped forward, and Damien had to duck out of the way: a front roll and a flip as he dodged the greenery. Then a petunia, teeth bared, lunged, and he jumped backward, not seeing the island's edge until he was rocking back. His foot slipped, and for a sickening moment, Damien was falling down into the endless void of the Infinite Realms. Then Phantom catches him and holds him in his arms as they fly to the great tree at the garden's center, where they land on the highest branches. From here, Damien can see the whole island. It is beautiful, lush, and wild, so different from the training grounds back home. He goes to pick one of the odd black fruits, which hang heavy and ripe, but he's stopped.

“Don’t,” Phantom says, “The fruit isn't safe.”

“But I've seen you eat them.”

“Yeah, but I live here.

You have a home to get back to.”

.......................................................................................

Pennyworth was the first to recover. Stepping past the floor-bound form of Todd balled up and wheezing from laughing, though Damian couldn't think what was so funny, he swept what family he could towards the living room. Damien was unsure just how much of the family was planning on joining them for dinner, but for the time being, it seemed to be just the five of them. Phantom, for his part, gathered his board-line hysterical boyfriend up into his arms and followed after. It was odd to see such a thin person carrying a man at least two hundred pounds heavier as if it were nothing. Strange, Damian faintly noticed he was smiling. When did he ever?... No matter.

The sitting room was, like all of the manor, spacious and decadent, with paneled wine-red walls stretching up so high they seemed to curve to the chandelier, not as large or beautiful as the one in the main hall or even the one in the dining room but still magnificent in its own right. If there was one thing Damien appreciated about living in the Manor quite as much as the freedom it afforded him, it was the sheer beauty and care given to each room. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he didn't know how Pennyworth maintained such a large space on his own. There simply where not the hours in the day. Even attempts to shadow the man had proven fruitless in explaining how he managed.

Finally, Todd seemed to have calmed himself to the point where it was no longer a struggle to speak over him. Father, standing stiffly in the corner where the light was weakest and glaring daggers through Phantom, was the first to speak.

"Who are You."

Damien opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off with a sharp glance.

"I mean..." Phantom hesitated, seemingly unsure about how to continue. " I'm Phantom. I used to babysit Dami when he was little."

"You were part of the League of Shadows?"

"No!" Phantom seems somewhat over-emphatic in Damien's opinion, not that anyone had asked.

"No, I'm..." He glanced over to Damien, "I'm the king of the Infinite Realms, Dami just used to visit sometimes when he wanted to get away for a bit and I would keep an eye on him."

"What are the Infinite Realms? How did he get there?"

"Oh you know," he floundered, "League of Shadows... Forbidden magic... all that Fun Stuff."

"Elaborate"

Surprisingly, it was Todd who spoke next.

“Look, the League had a natural portal to the Realms they kept squirreled away ok? It was a whole big secret; only the top members were supposed to even know about it.”

“Like the Lazarus Pit.”

“Yeah,”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It's a giant hole in reality leading to another dimension,” Todd said, irritation evident, “ not a fucking Chucky Cheese. Of course it's dangerous; that's why we closed it.”

“We?” Phantom snorted

“Yeah, yeah Mister I-close-holes-in-reality-for-shits-and-giggles. Not all of us can be fucking One Punch Men. ‘Sides, I helped. Hell knows when you were gonna get around to it if I didn't threaten to leave you sleeping on the couch.”

“Hel doesn't know anything about scheduling and you know it.”

Father cut in, interrupting their fond bickering. Silently, Damien wondered how long Todd and Phantom had been dating.

“So the portal has been taken care of.”

“Yep!” Phantom said, “I closed that dumb thing right up!”

“Are there any others?”

“Yeah, but most natural portals don't stay open long enough to be a problem. A stable portal is a little like a fairy; real, but rare enough that you can keep the salt at home.”

Father blinked, unsure how to react to that answer. Damien remembered this; the strange explanations that brought up more questions than answers. As a child, Damien had always found this extremely irritating. It was reassuring to see that this had not changed.

“What is the Infinite Realm?”

Again, Todd answered.

“Exactly what it says on the tin; it's a realm, and it's infinite. Basically, it's a space between universes connecting them all together, and ‘cause there’s infinite other universes, there’s infinite space between them. It's like driving through Kansas. Most folks don't think about the people who take care of those endless corn fields.”

Father glared at Todd, clearly frustrated with his butting in. He very purposefully turned to Phantom.

“Damien said you were king?”

“Yep! Won the title after I beat the last guy into the ground when he tried to flatten the midwest!”

“What does that mean?” Father gritted his teeth, not used to all of this talking. “What duties come with being King of the Infinite Realms?”

Again, Phantom hesitated, glancing over to Damien as if trying to decipher some great mystery, and again, Todd stepped in. Interesting. Irritating.

“Same shit that comes with being King anywhere. He sits through boring ass meetings and makes sure no dumbasses try and kill each other.”

“Hn”

“So,” Greyson said, stepping purposefully between Father and Todd, “How’d you two meet?”

He flashed his signature “socialite” smile. Phantom met it in a wide parody of a grin, eyes impossibly wide and hair glowing ever brighter. Before he could speak, Pennyworth, who Damien was sure had been by the door leading to the front hall, stepped in from the dining room.

“Excuse me, sirs,” he said, voice as level and unreadable as ever, “but it seems dinner is ready.”

Tag Cultists

@mur-ururu @krzys2000 @soren1830 @fisticuffsatapplebees @emergentpanda-blog @heirxofxtime @plotwholls @phoenixdemonqueen @avalnfear @historyboiiiiii @rangerhorsetug @zgirlxy @mistrfuzzles @thegreawizards @aroranorth-west @emeraldcorpral @the-archer-goddess @gin2212 @undead-essence @eleiteranger

[derpdino34]

Secret legacy pt. 2

Chapter 9

“This, is, awesome!” Robby cheered as he and Twitch soared through the trees. After prying the dead squirrel out of Twitch’s mouth, Twitch wanted to test out her new alt mode. Robby was a little nervous and was still mad about Twitch’s murder plan but he’ll give Twitch one last chance and it was worth it . Twitch dodged the tiny branches that blocked her path, soaring through like a skilled air fighter. Nothing was going to stop Robby and Twitch from having fun. Expect Robby getting smacked by a giant tree branch.

Robby tumbled on some branches before landing face first on the ground. Twitch came to Robby’s aid. Was he okay? Was he hurt? Was he dead?! Twitch’s thoughts spiraled like a tornado in her head. Then all of the sudden Robby started to laugh like this was a joke. Then, Twitch started to laugh. Robby was okay, and it was accident after all so what’s the -

“HOW DARE!”

A painful spike went through her body. Her joints lock like a statue.

“YOU HURT ONE OF MY CHOSEN ONES, YOU WILL PAY DEARLY.”

The pain slid down to her spark like a snake wrapped around its prey. Slowly squeezing the life out from its body. Twitch wanted to end. It felt like her body was on fire, melting, and freezing all at the same time. She wanted Robby to make it stop she wanted to cry.

“YOU WERE MADE TO OBEY, SO OBEY.”

Robby watched in horror as Twitch collapsed on the ground, wheezing as if she was struggling to breathe. Robby ran to her trying to help. What could he even do? He can’t call for help because if he did, Twitch would be taken away. But he couldn’t leave Twitch here to suffer. Cybertronians don’t need oxygen to breathe right? They lived in space for millions of years. But Twitch wasn’t a Cybertronian, she was . . . Different. Robby noticed the sickening red glow coming from his sleeve. Robby looked back at Twitch then to his sleeve. Was his sleeve hurting Twitch?

“Stop hurting her!” Robby grabbed his sleeve as he yelled at it. “Please, stop!”

As if the sleeve heard his cries of mercy the glow faded away and so did Twitch’s pain.

Robby started to shake Twitch to see if she was okay. Twitch wasn’t moving.

“Twitch?” Robby shook Twitch a little hard.

Twitch still wasn’t moving.

Now Robby started to panic. He just had Twitch for a day and a few hours and now she’s gone. What should he do? What should he -

“Are you two alright?”

Robby jumped as scrambled to hide Twitch’s body. When he faced whoever had been talking. A man in a white lab coat with slick black hair. For a stranger, he looked so, friendly.

“Oh I’m so sorry for giving you a scare.” He said worried that Robby was going to run away. “You two looked hurt so I wanted to see if you two were okay.”

Robby wanted to believe him but thought still played in the back of his mind, was he doing in the woods? Was he watching them?

“W-Why were you in the woods?” Robby nervously asked standing between the man and Twitch.

“I like to take walks out here.” The man said.

Robby had a sneaking suspicion that he was lying but tried to remain calm.

“Well thank you for asking but I’m fine.” Robby nervously said. The man looked at him with doubt.

“What about your friend?” Robby looked down to see Twitch’s still unconscious body. Dang it! he forgot about her. Think Robby, think!

“I - um - found them like this.” The lie the slip through Robby’s teeth. Robby hoped that this stranger would fall for it. There was a long pause when Robby said that. Robby tried to read the man’s face but he was more worried about Twitch being taken away from him. Then the man finally spoke.

“Well, if you found them like this we should help them.” The man smiled. He started to walk closer to Robby. Robby tried to shield her from the man.

“Ah, where are my manners? My name is Doctor Meridian.” Meridian probably introduced himself to stop the tension between him and Robby.

“ I mostly work with cybertronian tech and bots alike. If your friend here needs help, I gladly help.”

[ferrouswheel11]

DC Character's Canon Fursonas part 1:

(according to Titans: Beast World crossover event)

Black Adam: lion

Live Wire: eel. looks more like a moray than an electric eel tbh

Jimmy Olson: GIANT turtle. or tortoise

Power Girl: kryptonian flame bird?

Batman: gray wolf (domesticated?)

Killer Croc: crocodile or alligator

Harley Quinn: (buff) white rabbit

Jason Todd: brown wolf... or a coyote or jackal — the story is titled "Scavenger"

Ratcatcher: naked mole rat

Huntress: black panther

Killer Moth: cockroach

Robin (Damian): tan cat with black tips, resembles a sand cat or other small wildcat

Godspeed: hornet

Fadaway Man: white squirrel

The Flash (Avery Ho): leopard gecko or similar/moray eel/bee

Kid Flash (Wallace West): brown lizard, unknown species/musk ox/bee

Iris West: cuttlefish

Impulse: frilled lizard/bee

Captain Cold: polar bear

Pied Piper: peregrine falcon/bee

Circuit Breaker: peacock/bee

The Flash (Barry Allen): bee, due to Animal Girl's manipulation

Nightwing: red fox, according to announced issue #6 cover art

[safeturnip]

acorn-cerning surprise

words: 1.8k

characters: the snails. GeminiTay, Grian, Joel Smallishbeans. (ish. Gem and Grian and Joel are here in spirit)

summary: snail shenanigans!! featuring acorns and Joel's cyberpunk city

AO3 link

***

It was a lovely day on Hermitcraft, and there was a pair of horrible snails. 

The intricate machinery of the airship they had been left in rattled and clanked, the heat exuded from the engines warming the polished wood of the room the snails had taken over with their series of challenges. It had been weeks since their latest target had participated in their game, winning back some of his items with a confident promise to return for the rest. He’d never returned, and the snails were bored out of their limited number of brain cells. They weren’t meant for this feeling of idleness, of sitting in place and waiting. The blue snail twitched an eye at its pink companion, who responded by dropping down from the ceiling and making its slimy way towards the door. The snails abandoned their commandeered airship, dropping off the edge and tucking their bodies into their shells to bounce safely off the ground, setting out to find another source of entertainment. 

The noontime sun was high in the sky and the snails were sluggish—or snailish, as the case may be—as they sloped their way across the terrain towards the cherry tree–covered plateau in the distance. The landscape unfolded before them, almost overwhelming to such small creatures: Waves of rippling grass, a river that wound its way toward the sea, a giant stone pyramid constructed from shades of black and grey and white. They passed through a small village with palm trees scattered here and there amidst the nondescript brown buildings, where, in the distance, a metal satellite dish on the top of a repurposed fortress caught and reflected the sun. 

(They did not go near the ocean that skimmed this village’s edge. There was something about the hidden depths that caused an instinctive, primal dread, even in this pair of molluscs who never felt emotions like fear.)

It was at the area where cyan and red and brown buildings had been built into the side of the mountain behind them, where soil transitioned to salt-crusted wood beneath their feet, that the snails’ journey came to a stop. 

Before them was a pile of acorns—not the sort made by squirrels storing food for the winter, more like the sort made by squirrels storing food for several winters, and also the apocalypse. Acorns of all shapes and sizes and colours were all stacked on top of each other: Golden acorns with a proud, glossy sheen; large, dark brown acorns with dull and scratched surfaces; small acorns that were an unripe green, their rough, bristly caps pulled low over their heads. They were piled so precariously atop each other that even the lightest gust of briney wind would cause a cascade of acorns to tumble down and roll across the wooden ground. 

As the pair of mischief-seeking snails regarded this shifting pile of acorns, they experienced something truly remarkable: Their shared two brain cells drifting close enough to form a synapse of coherent thought, an extremely rare occurrence for these gastropods. They had a brilliant idea for what to do with this surprise gift they'd happened upon. In unison, two pairs of glassy black eyes rotated towards the nearby cyber-city, with its neon lights and bright colours and skyscrapers that strove determinedly upwards as if they wanted to touch the sun. Perfect.

These snails did not have the means or equipment to move the acorns, did not possess pockets or bags or even shulker boxes, never mind the sheer amount of acorns that had to be moved. And what an amount it was! The acorns must have numbered in the thousands. If the snails could do maths, they would've counted 10,758 precisely; unfortunately they did not have the brain convolutions needed to count that high. All they needed to know—and all that they did know—was that it was truly a staggering amount of acorns, perfect for the mischief they had planned.  Yet despite this lack of any form of transport, somehow these clever snails managed to drag their soon-to-be prank all the way around the circumference of the hollowed out mountain to the base of the colourful, cramped city.

(If these snails had a working memory, they would have thought back wistfully to their getaway helicopter that they’d used to steal someone’s diamonds ages ago. Unfortunately, they had the memory of a river stone: nonexistent.) 

Like the snails, the city was a nocturnal organism, slowly shaking itself to life as the sun dipped below the horizon. Lights blinked open and flickered on in the dark, heat emanated from buildings and caused the cool evening air to shimmer, electricity raced and tumbled over itself through the glass tubing of neon signs. The quiet of the night made the ceaseless sounds of the city even more apparent; the murmur of pipes that spanned both the height and width of buildings, the whisper of curtains being whisked shut in penthouses at the top of the tallest skyscrapers, the low creak of window shutters drifting open and shut. The city was built in a fashion where—because it had no space to expand outward—it was forced to instead extend upward like a tree whose roots had split open the rock face of a mountain after finding no more room to grow. Buildings were nestled so close together that they seemed to merge into one huge mass of concrete and metal, until you looked closer and spotted the narrow, winding alleyways that separated them. 

Once the sun had fully set, the snails got to work. 

They went about their task silently and wordlessly—there was no other way a snail could do a task, after all, owing to the absence of vocal cords or teeth or a palate. Knowing that its wormy companion was still very new, the blue snail took the lead, demonstrating where best to deposit acorns in places that would be the most annoying. Acorns scattered in the middle of footpaths to catch unsuspecting feet, stuffed between wooden planks of building walls directly at eye level so that they would be impossible to miss, handfuls placed precariously on narrow railings so that they would tumble to the ground in a cheerful clatter if someone brushed close by them. The pink snail caught on quickly. 

The snails were in no rush. They knew the creator of this city was occupied by the game far away in the shopping district of water and ravagers, lily pads and the tranquil glow of froglights. It was highly likely that they would have the entire night to lay out this prank, and maybe even part of the morning too, if they needed. 

Underneath the glow of neon lights, the snails glided over this ecosystem of concrete and metal and glass and stone, depositing acorns as they went. Trails of slime were left everywhere in their wake, less so incriminating evidence forgotten behind by an amateur and more of a calling card placed deliberately at the scene of a crime. Acorns were stuck in the canvas banners that hung along the sides of storefronts, tucked into the dress folds of a statue of an ancient ocean goddess, dropped into the pools of the bath house and the ponds in the gardens dotted around the city. Acorns were placed in the eye sockets and mouths of the horse heads that decorated a fountain built before a glowing purple portal, hidden in the many, many chests scattered in the streets and buildings. The blue snail even left an acorn in a beehive located in the honey farm, and was almost stung by a very angry bee in the process. The snails stayed away from the beehives after that. 

Despite having no hands or fingers, the snails were still able to place acorns in the most dexterous of places, like between books placed tightly together in bookshelves and along the tops of door frames. What talented molluscs! Anyone watching them work would be impressed. 

About halfway through the night, the blue snail began crawling up the gate that separated this cyber-city from its neighboring cyber-city, its pink friend following closely behind. The gate was a towering giant of deep red wood and dark stone, with ends that curved upwards toward the sky like the fingers of a cupped hand. At the top of the gate, the blue snail began to lay out a line of acorns—not the smartest idea, seeing as how a strong wind would immediately blow all the acorns off the gate. If snails could roll their eyes, that was what the pink snail would be doing right now. But, due to the lack of eye sockets and extraocular muscles, the most it could do was wiggle its eye stalks around. Its friend continued to deposit acorns along the topmost part of the gate, unbothered, moisturized, happy, in its lane, focused, and flourishing. 

(As this liberal distribution of acorns went on, the wormy snail began to do the dastardly thing of wedging everything that could be wedged open with an acorn, sticking acorns into the hinges of doors and windows in a way that let them close only halfway. The blue snail was so proud.)

The pesky snails were beginning to run out of both acorns and places to hide said acorns. They crammed the mailbox full to the brim with acorns, popped acorns into the pockets of the workers in the industrial buildings, who merely side-eyed the snails and hummed in disgruntlement, and—oh no, they’d managed to get an acorn wedged in the mechanism of the glow berry farm. Oh well. No one ever bought glow berries anyways. 

The moon continued its journey across the sky, and the stock of acorns continued to dwindle down into nothing, signaling the completion of this snail acorn prank. This snailcorn prank. 

Finally, as the sun began to drift upwards and the sky lightened to shades of peach and lavender and pink, the job was done. Nestled in the hand of the giant gorilla armour stand perched at the top of a skyscraper, the two snails took a brief moment to admire their work: Hundreds and hundreds of acorns scattered and littered and tucked away in every imaginable nook and cranny of this towering electric city. Even with their limited intelligence, the snails knew that this prank didn’t seem especially impressive or aggravating right now. No, the fun will start when the owner of this city finds the acorns. When he will continue to find the acorns. And it seemed for a brief moment that they wished—well, not wished, exactly, they didn’t have the mental capacity for that—they had a flicker, beginning, suggestion of thought about having a set of lungs and a diaphragm like a human in order to laugh themselves to stitches over their job well done. 

Through a bob of a pink head and an answering downward tilt of a blue shell, the two gastropods seemed to come to an understanding. It was time to return to their snaily airship for a well-deserved nap. 

And in the distance, there and gone so fast that it could be dismissed as a trick of the light, was a flutter of wings and a flash of bright orange hair.

[floralfumofridays]

Floral Fumo Friday of the Week: Norway Spruce (Picea abies)

Yuuka continued her travels to solve the incident. At the end of the penultimate season, there was an intense feeling of unique fear and uncertainty within Gensokyo that was felt by all youkai, including Yuuka. She noticed a few drunken youkai laying around the foot of the Mountain. She thought that maybe she could scare the drunkards when they least expected it. Yuuka approached one of the drunkards, as she gently smiled and politely greeted them. Her smile terrified the youkai, who then screamed, "Vampire!" Yuuka looked feintly confused, "Hm? I am nothing like those little birds...." her smile "I'm just here for some stress relief is all. Things feel quite bleak in this world right now, don't you think?"

The area was now clear of other youkai. Yuuka could see many cones scattered across the empty ground and collected them. She eventually felt exhausted from trying to solve the incident and decided to take a quick nap beside a giant spruce tree. When she slowly closed her eyes, she had thought about something that confused her: Why were youkai afraid of vampires? Vampires are usually a rarity in Gensokyo, and Yuuka found the ones that resided in her old mansion to be rather weak like a frail bird. However, she thinks that a vampire could be the first of many clues to this incident.

Today is Friday, but most importantly it is Friday the 13th in December, on a month that takes place at the end of the year, where many are celebrating the holidays and what presents to give to each other, and where many students are taking exams. The feeling of uncertainty over grades, presents and what lies ahead of the new year sends a frightening and chilling fear into many people. Very scary! 🥶

So this one is most definitely not an aster. 😅The branches and pinecones in the photos are from the Norway Spruce(Abies picea), which is part of the Pine family (Pinaceae). It is native to Europe, but has its fame and cultivation for being the typical Christmas Tree, although it isn't ideal to use for that purpose as it can dry out very quickly. This tree can be very giant, growing up to 40-50 meters tall, but there are cultivars of this tree that are grown smaller and fir-looking. These giant trees can live very long lives, too.

These structures that are broken off of the Norway spruce are called cones, noted for their wooded and scale-like structure. Cones are found in all pine family trees. They are often a fan favorite and collected by small critters like squirrels, who break off the wooden scales to consume the seeds or nuts within the cone.

The name Picea for spruces is latin for "pitch-black" and it might refer to the darker colors of the bark of spruces. The name abies in its species name means "fir" and is the literal name of the fir genus, because spruces and firs were usually placed under the same category of "spruce firs" long ago. Nowadays, we know some differences between them so spruces are placed in Picea while firs are placed in Abies. Norway spruces in particular were called almost always called Picea, but like the white snakeroot of a previous post it has been placed under different genera until it was eventually settled back to Picea with the name Picea abies.

Yosemite Nature Notes 46(2) (1977): Who Ate That Cone? by Beth Huning and Linda Yemoto