#those spores just never leave the plant

[corbinite]

Thinking about the alternation of generations in plants and algae

[bluemoonbun]

Reader is implied to like feminine things, though gender identity is kept ambiguous.

Damian was a good brother. That’s what he always told himself. He was a good brother, a good son. He was cold, rude, and erudite, but he was able and willing to help anyone who needed it.

When he arrived at Wayne manor, Bruce told him the general run down of why you were to be avoided when it came to anything vigilante related. You were still pure, a year younger than Damian but without any of the pain. The only one in the Wayne manor that could have a shot at becoming a normal person. Damian envied that, but kept it to himself. His anger often boiled to the top, drops of green venom dripping from his mouth when you tried to annoy him into spending time with you.

Your complaints of him ignoring you was scalding water on his already raw nerves. Why would you complain about not being the center of attention for five damn seconds? He would trade anything for the life you had. A life where you could lay around after school and never worry about a rogue bullet lodging itself in your arm, or a poisonous plant releasing psychedelic spores into an open wound.

You could and would never join the Robins. You were weak; it was in your blood. Always sickly, always the pacifist. You wouldn't survive a day in his life. And you weren't living his life; you were living his dream.

But apparently the effort the family was putting in wasn’t enough.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that the manor felt… off about two weeks before the fight with Joker. He couldn’t trace it for the life of him at first. When he realized by the second week that he hadn’t spoken to you in days, or really seen you around the manor at all, he wrote off the worms writhing in his stomach. You must’ve been busy with a class assignment and had little time to annoy him with your demands of time together.

After the fight, however, he was a war of a thousand emotions. How dare you leave them? Why would you turn away an easy life fat on nepotism for a group of murderers, con men, the dredges of Gotham’s society?

Were you truly that desperate to be acknowledged that you’d turn your back on the family who did everything for you? He hopes you’re happy there, since you were clearly so upset at not being given attention.

Over time, however, things start to change. A few days after Jason made a full recovery, Damian looked at one of the drones Tim managed to get a chunk of code from. It took a lot of trial and error, and the development of an entirely new program to grab some of the code before it bricked itself, and enough all nighters and energy drinks that any doctor would faint, but it was managed. The code was dense, optimized to work with the least bloat possible, well tagged variables, and even a handful of comments in the code.

//Buy Bane those Boston Donuts from the donut shop on 5th //Why does this code need to be here so it doesn’t auto brick itself. What is in the code protecting it from the wrath of God //Louie likes Texas barbecue ribs. Possible treat? //DO NOT FEED THEM WHOLE RIBS. COOKED BONES BAD. //SINCE WHEN WAS THIS VARIABLE A STRING??? IT WAS AN INT 5 LINES AGO //Help the hopeless lesbians get together. //Would Harley and Ivy dating make Harley my mom or Ivy my big sister? Both???

His eyes skimmed the retrieved comments, laughing at a few. It seems that Bane, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn were the most common subjects of the notes, though a few mentioning the Iceberg lounge asking what non-alchoholic drink you’d like added, or Riddler offering you another puzzle to keep your mind active. Even Joker was mentioned, though it seemed mostly transactional.

It was strange seeing you in this light. You seemed to have a lot of spice in you, but a heart made of gold. You were definitely surprised whenever one othe villains offered to take you on some trip to amusement parks, regular parks, even just willingly watching anime with you. It was odd to see. Surely someone at the house did those things with you? He didn’t but he was extremely busy with school and vigilantism. Jason was legally dead, so surely he had all the time in the world.

“How was I supposed to relate to them? They’re what, 12 and into shit like that one with the cat looking dog thing and the robot girl. I have shit to do. Y’know, managing Crime Alley?”

Well, Dick had come over to hang out plenty of times. Surely he’d spent at least a few hours with you every now and then? “I have an entire team and criminals to manage of in another city, Damian. I don’t have as much time as you think to do whatever it was with them they’d wanted to do”

Maybe Tim? “I have college and stuff, Damian. And I don’t have the energy to put into hanging around them. I’d probably just be sleeping most of the time.

Bruce? “I have to manage you, Gotham, and the Justice League, Damian. I barely have time for myself.”

… Alfred? “I tried, Master Damian. However I’m constantly pulled thin between so many tasks. Besides, all you have is school most days, and you’ve had summer vacations and weekends. Shouldn’t you’ve had plenty of time to spend with your younger sibling?”

… He did have the most time outside of vigilantism. And it took him a week to realize you were missing.

You had to realize that they were under extreme stress though, right?He couldn’t spend all his free time with you. He had his own friends to hang out with. How were you two even supposed to relate?

One day at dinner, the thoughts were thrashing in his head, slamming against soft tissue and tearing through brain matter. He aimlessly poked at the food on his plate.

“You alright, replacement?” Jason asked, pausing in his extremely rare dinners with everyone else. Alfred had promised him a tray of fudge to take home this time around, and nobody made fudge quite as good as he did.

“… They were gone for two weeks.”

Everyone stopped eating as he continued.

“Two weeks. Two full weeks before they showed up at that fight. Did anyone here even know? I only noticed after a week and assumed they were just holed up in their room with a class assignment or something.” He was rambling. Everyone was quiet and looking at each other. How did it manage to slip past everyone? They were detectives, for Christ’s sake.

They were your family.

—

Dinner ended with guilt wrapping around their throats and pulling.

Eventually, all of them found themselves in your room. It had been emptied, but showed no signs of struggle. All the small items, the comforter, and your clothes were gone. But what was taken left something behind. Copies of photos of you winning state level competitions, letters requesting your attendance at seminars, photos of gold medals and blue ribbons spread across the floor. Most damning of all was the most recent photo. A certificate by some big time tech company being handed to you. Edward Nashton stood behind you, a firm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

When had this happened? They never remembered hearing of something like this. A news clipping on the back told them it was maybe a week before you left.

“The Wayne prodigy stated that their family had more important things to see to than such an occasion. I can’t imagine something more important that either of my kids being recognized by a multi-million dollar tech company! I remember postponing an anniversary with my husband to celebrate our child placing second in the science fair. But I guess that’s just the Waynes for you!”

That’s just the Waynes to you.

But it’s ok. He can make it better. He can be a good big brother. He can spend time watching anime with you and decorating your room with lace and fairy lights and go makeup shopping with you. You just need to come home. Now.

---------------- Taglist! Ask to be added!

@jjsmeowthie , @jsprien213 , @ladyrosemone

[rhiannonsknife]

— thinking about lucy and wasteland pollen…

— warnings: wasteland!reader. fem!reader. nsfw content. so mdni.

lucy is new to everything up here.

so naturally, she doesn’t think twice before bounding into a field of strange-looking flowers, her curiosity leading her straight to them.

“would you look at that?” she says, crouching down to inspect a cluster of golden petals swaying gently in the breeze. you don’t even have time to warn her before her boot lands on something with a soft crunch. the motion releases a faint hiss below, and suddenly a shimmering cloud of yellow spores billows up around her. lucy only waves a hand through it, laughing. “huh, weird plants!” she remarks, completely and utterly unfazed, oblivious to the danger.

“why did you stop?” she calls over her shoulder when she notices you lingering a few feet back, hesitant to follow. “don’t tell me you’re scared of a little flower dust!”

the golden dust of spores clings to her jumpsuit, her hair, her skin. every part of lucy seems coated in them, yet she doesn’t appear worried in the slightest.

instead, she frowns at you.

“you’re acting weird. did i do something?” lucy asks, unaware of the risk she’s already unleashed. the spores are likely already in both of your systems, setting something irreversible into motion.

lucy has always been so unaware of her effect on you. even now, she seems to find a way of making everything harder for you.

you’re the one who has to decide to leave the field and get her somewhere safer, (once again getting both of you to safety as per usual) but even then, it’s impossible not to notice the little things about her: the way the flush begins to creep up her neck. how her fingers nervously fidget with the straps of her pack. or the way, when you sit down at your makeshift shelter for the night, she keeps shifting closer to you without even realizing it

the silence stretches on until lucy, never one to hold back her curiosity, finally breaks it: “why is it so hot in here? Is it just me? Is that…normal?” she asks, tugging at the collar of her jumpsuit, exposing a sliver of skin that feels suddenly too intimate to look at.

you force yourself to turn away, to focus on literally anything else, even as heat pools in your stomach.

“maybe it’s the air circulation,” she muses aloud, her fingers still working at her jumpsuit. “vaults had better airflow! this place is like a furnace!”

lucy pauses, then glances at you again. “your face is all red too!”

she leans in, her eyes locking onto yours. the space between your bodies shrinks. suddenly all you can think about is how close she is, how her heat radiates against you, how easy it would be to reach for her and-

“lucy, it’s not the air!” you blurt, scrambling back with a voice that betrays how strained you feel.

lucy only frowns in confusion.

“what do you mean?” she asks. “is this one of those things i should’ve read about in that wasteland survival guide you made me throw out?” her brows knit together as she stares at you, the weight of the situation still not sinking in.

“lucy, stop!” you finally snap, the sharpness of your voice cutting through the haze that’s currently clouding both of your thoughts.

“why?” she demands, louder this time. “oh, gee, are you sick? are we sick? what’s happening?” her hands flutter in front of her, restless and unsure, and you have to catch her wrists to still her before she completely spirals.

“it’s not sickness!” you manage hoarsely. “it’s something in the flowers outside. it- it does things to people,”

lucy doesn’t miss a beat. “what kind of things?” she asks, and the innocence in her voice sends a fresh wave of heat crawling up your neck.

“it’s like…a chemical reaction!” you try. “a really strong one”

she blinks at you, her expression still painfully blank. “like hallucinations? oh my- is this a drug thing? because i’m not-”

“not hallucinations, lucy!” you interrupt her. “it’s…sexual.”

she stares at you, her mouth opening, then closing again. “sexual?”

you close your eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to stay calm. “it’s an aphrodisiac. it makes people…” you trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence without your voice breaking.

her lips part in a silent ‘oh’.

lucy shifts her weight awkwardly, her cheeks flushed. “so, is that why i feel…kind of weird?” she asks, looking down at herself. her hands fidget at her sides. “because i thought it was just the heat, but my chest feels tight and i-” she cuts herself off abruptly, her wide eyes darting up to meet yours. “wait, do you feel that too?”

you grit your teeth. “it’s the spores!” you say sharply, refusing to answer her question directly.

lucy sits in silence for a moment, mumbling ‘okay, okay’ under her breath. “this is fine!” she blurts out then, pacing to her corner of the room like she can outpace her own discomfort. she tugs at the zipper of her jumpsuit, pulling it down halfway to reveal the damp fabric of the tank top clinging to her skin.

“it’s just a little warm, that’s all! we’ve been through worse, right?”

“it’s temporary,” you mutter, more to yourself than to her. “it’ll wear off. we just need to wait it out!”

but lucy clearly doesn’t know how to wait something like this out. she doesn’t stop talking once, her voice a nervous stream of energy. “it’s just, like, a fever, right?” she says, forcing a laugh that’s far too loud. “i’ve had fevers before! this is fine. totally fine!”

you don’t respond. you can’t.

your jaw is clenched too tight, and your focus is entirely on not looking at her: not at the way she keeps fidgeting with the fabric of her suit around her thighs, or the way her chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths, or the way the flush spreads down her neck, blooming across her sweaty collarbones.

the air feels thicker by the second, stifling and heavy. you’re biting the inside of your cheek bloody and digging your nails into your palms, desperate for anything to ground yourself, anything to distract from the heat coursing through you, from the way your body throbs in time with your heartbeat.

lucy, who’s the one who got you into this mess in the first place, catches you staring at her. her breath hitches for a moment, her lips parting slightly. “are you okay?” she asks. “you’re being really quiet,”

“i’m fine!” It comes out harsher than you intend, and you turn away, pretending to rummage through your pack. your hands are shaking too much to do anything useful, but at least it gives you something to focus on besides her.

lucy doesn’t let it go. of course she doesn’t.

you hear the sound of her boots scraping against the floor as she stands and crosses the room, and before you can tell her to stay put, she’s kneeling in front of you. “hey,” she says, her hand hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.

“don’t!” you bark, jerking away before she can touch you.

her hand drops immediately, her face falling. “i wasn’t- i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to-”

“it’s not your fault!” you interrupt apologetically. “it’s just…”

you trail off. you want her, that’s what it is. you’ve been wanting her, long before she decided to step onto the petals and release spores that would only make matters worse.

now that they’re in your system, you’re hyper-aware of all the things you didn’t notice before: each breath lucy takes rings in your ears, the scent of her lingering with how close she’s sitting. hell, even the sweat that’s dripping from the side of her neck seems to draw you in.

lucy sits back on her heels, studying your face carefully. “it’s bad, isn’t it? the spores?”

you can smell her from here: sweat, heat, and something unmistakably sweet beneath it all. it only makes it harder to think. you swallow hard, nodding. “yeah. it’s bad.”

she hesitates, then asks the question you’ve been dreading. “is it bad for you because of me?”

you don’t answer right away, but when your eyes meet hers they seem to give her all the confirmation she needs. lucy, who’s very clearly not immune to the effects of the spores, doesn’t seem to fight them as hard as you are.

“i can feel it too, you know?” she murmurs. “it’s like this…heat. it won’t go away,” her cheeks flush deeper and she looks down. “i keep telling myself not to think about it, but-” her fingers twitch against the floor. you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to hold back, even as every fiber of your being screams at you to close the space between you.

“we can’t!”

lucy leans in. “why not?”

the dam breaks.

she freezes for half a second when you surge forward, only to melt into you moments later. your lips crash against hers, hard and desperate, and her back hits the wall with a soft thud.

her arms instinctively come up around your neck, pulling you closer. she makes a soft, startled sound against your mouth, but it quickly shifts into something hungrier, something raw.

lucy maclean, you only vaguely realize as her tongue slides past your lips, is moaning right into your mouth and you aren’t even touching her yet.

her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to make you shiver as the kiss deepens. the heat between your legs is unbearable now, a steady thrum that pulses through your veins, demanding release.

neither of you can stop the way your bodies move together, hips rolling forward in a frantic rhythm. there’s no relief there, in the way your hips meet halfway, only need, frustration growing with every futile attempt to grind yourself against her.

and yet you physically cannot stop.

it’s almost embarrassing how fast it sends you over the edge once you finally stumble to the dusty ground together and find a good angle to grind against each other, one that actually works.

it only takes a few lazy ruts of your hips until you’re cumming beneath her, rutting through the haze of pleasure. you’re just conscious enough to feel lucy tense up above you too, shaking and trembling with the force of her own orgasm, with her head thrown back and her hair sticking to the sweat on her face.

still, you can’t seem to stop.

a part of you expected this to be the end of the aching throb between your legs and the heat flashes, yet the orgasm only seems to make things worse: like an itch, only intensifying once it’s been scratched.

lucy, seemingly struggling with the same thing, feels greedy when she starts humping your leg all over again, whining: “can’t stop. m’sorry. i can’t stop!” as she drags her crotch over your thigh.

you can feel how damp she feels there, how hot and wet. at this point, you don’t care to think rationally about this. you’ve already crossed the point of no return, so you might as well make use of the…situation.

she is ever wetter than you’d expected from what you felt through her jumpsuit already (you both are): once you’ve peeled the fabric off her damp skin and reach between her legs for the first time, you’re taken aback by the sheer amount of arousal that has pooled there.

lucy is so wet, impatiently humping your fingers until two of them slide into her easily.

her own fingers curl around your wrist, moving it so she’s fucking herself on you.

two easily turn to three, her body gladly accommodating the stretch. and even then, even as the second orgasm crashes over her in record time, lucy is still panting and begging for more.

you know it’s the pollen. you know there’s no way to fully satisfy the urge until it wears off eventually. but how are you supposed to turn lucy down when your own body is aching for her and she’s quite literally begging for more? when she’s gushing down your wrists, her walls clamping down against your fingers so tight it’s hard to move?

of course, lucy gets you off too. you doubt you could’ve gone much longer without feeling her touch.

truthfully, you have no idea if she knows anything about this or if she’s going on some primal instinct caused by the spores.

either way, you’re in no position to question her when she aligns herself with you once she’s gotten you out of your clothes too. when she grinds against you with no restrictions in the way, clutching your hand tightly in her own to somehow ground herself. when her slick rubs against yours and you feel her cunt throbbing and her clit pulsing against your own until you cum with a desperate cry of lucy’s name.

it’s not surprising that neither of you had enough of the other just yet, with lucy already one orgasm ahead.

so she spins you around so you’re on all fours and puts her mouth on you from behind, lapping up your arousal.

her name echos through the night but you’re far too into this to care about the potential dangers you could be attracting. besides, if you die with lucy’s tongue inside of you, it’ll be worth it.

“oh my god!” you cry out, arching your back. she hums breathlessly, her hands on your ass and her lips closing around your clit as they suck.

it’s hours later, after she’s made you cum one final time on her fingers until you were gushing around them, that you both come to your senses again.

lucy is sprawled out on the floorboards by your side, staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. her chest heaves with uneven breaths, inhaling the heavy scent of sweat and sex around you.

“oh,” she says finally, hands folded over her stomach. “oh wow,”

while the adrenaline is still buzzing faintly in your veins, there’s something sobering about the cool ground against your hot skin and the way lucy hasn’t moved except for the occasional blinks.

“so,” lucy mumbles eventually. “that was the spores then..”

you let that linger, unsure if you want to tell her that it wasn’t just the spores. at least not for you.

“well,” she chuckles softly. “at least we won’t have to deal with that kind of pollen again! lesson learned!”

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Hark! I submit an official request for Raphael and someone (dealer’s choice) getting hit with the old Sex Pollen. It could be a trick by Haarlep or a plant/mushroom releasing pollen/spores in Faerûn during one of his visits. I leave circumstances to your brilliant imagination.

I love the sex pollen trope and would love to see you write it :) As always, feel free to make him or both of them as tame or unhinged as you like! Thank you! 💕

❤️

Raph gets pollened ☺️

Read on AO3

-

There was a lot of strange stuff to find laying about in the ruins of Moonrise Towers. Most of it caked in dirt, dust, and other unidentifiable substances. The kleptomaniac in Tav had her poking around, putting her mitts on everything before those little tiefling gobshites stripped the place bare.

She was enamoured by something: a big round vial that contained some viscous liquid which, when Tav cleaned the bottle a little, glowed an ominous dark purple. The stopper was wedged too tight to open. It had been fermenting for a long, long time. Tav had discovered the bottle in a box with a decrepit occult codex of some kind and a burned out incense holder. Bizarre findings that warranted further investigation – after she’d raided everything else of value, of course.

“Well, well. Where should I find the mouse but scurrying about in a ruined old attic? Apt.”

“Shit!”

Tav nearly leapt out of her skin. The bottle went flying, shattering on the ground. A thin, noxious violet gas began to seep from its shattered corpse. The smell was pungent, stomach-churning; like rotten eggs and swamp water. Tav coughed and gagged, eyes wet, glaring at the devil who’d startled her so badly. He stood there innocently, unassuming, a single eyebrow raised at her display of drama. So much for finding out what that potion did.

“Do you enjoy getting the jump on people, devil?” She said waspishly, moving further away from the mess. “Gods, that stinks.”

“Sometimes. Mortals are much more likely to agree to certain things when they’re frightened,” Raphael purred. He tilted his head, taking a small whiff of the gas. “Hmm…it smells like peaches to me.”

Peaches, sure. “What do you want?” Tav crossed her arms. Never turn your back on a devil. Especially this one.

“Merely to see why my favourite future client isn’t celebrating with the rest of her merry band,” said Raphael. Tav noticed he was surreptitiously inhaling deeper sniffs of the potion, like a dog that had caught an interesting scent on the wind. He may not have realised he was doing it. “After all, you freed the angel. You struck down the avatar of a God. One would think a hero of such calibre would at least raise a glass or two in victory, no?”

“I don’t like crowds,” muttered Tav, keenly aware he was mocking her. He was always mocking her. Raphael shifted his feet, coming just a bit closer.

“Yes, I know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I know a lot about you, Tav. I know the kinds of people you used to do business with before the mindflayers took you. I know the kind of work you did. I know where you came from, and where you were going before all of this.”

“What?” Tav stared at him, aghast. A mix of horror and, inexplicably, intrigue squirmed in her belly. How did he know these things? Why did he know these things? Something was off, though. Raphael seemed, for a brief moment, as shocked by his words as she.

“All that is to say…” He adjusted his collar. Loosened it. “Hells. Why is it so damn warm all of a sudden?”

In a crumbling tower, battered by the chilling miasma of the shadow curse, the only warmth came from the Infernal himself. “It’s cold up here,” Tav said slowly. A bead of sweat rolled down Raphael’s temple in contrast. “Are…you okay?”

“What a stupid question,” the devil snapped. He was becoming flustered, a fetching flush spreading across his harsh cheeks and the bridge of his handsome nose. “I must return to the Hells. Goodbye.”

He clicked his fingers, intending to disappear in a burst of hellfire as usual, but nothing happened. A mere sputtering of sparks from his fingertips fluttered and died. Outraged, Raphael clicked them again, harder, as Tav watched with mounting anxiety. No portal opened. The devil went nowhere.

“Foolish little bint,” he snarled at her. Revealed his pointed canines when he sneered. Tav saw his pupils were rapidly expanding, consuming the sweet brown of his human irises. “What was in that bottle you dropped?”

“I don’t know,” Tav bit back. Always aggressive when she felt cornered. “And you’re the reason I dropped it in the first place. Maybe this will teach you to stop needlessly scaring people, though I bloody doubt it.”

“If you don’t watch your tongue when you speak to me, I’ll pluck it out of your filthy mouth,” Raphael threatened, low and throatily. He tugged his collar open completely, revealing his neck and some teasing wisps of chest hair.

“Oh I see, the devil’s feeling a bit poorly so he finally shows his true colours,” crooned Tav. “It’s about time. I was getting tired of your gentleman act, you know.”

“Ah…to have your skin hanging on a hook in my foyer would be such a delight…” Rumbled the devil, almost absently. He began to unfasten the buttons of his jacket.

“What are you doing?!” Barked Tav. He didn’t answer. Tossed his coat aside and moved onto the buttons of his fancy white shirt. It was damp with sweat – and this was when Tav noticed the bulge between Raphael’s legs. His cock, hard and proud, strained in the fabric of his trousers. A hot spike of desire shot through Tav’s body. “Oh, shit…”

The potion must have been some kind of demented aphrodisiac, made potent enough over time that just a few inhales was all it took. It must’ve been pretty strong indeed if Raphael was crumbling under its influence so fast. Except it wasn’t affecting Tav. She could admit – only to herself – that her tingles of arousal looking at Raphael’s big, deft, tawny hands work the small buttons of his clothes, at the glistening, hairy skin of his chest as he opened his shirt, at his puffy dark nipples, at the trail of fuzz going down his soft middle to vanish below his belt, at the outline of his erection, at the wet spot its leaking head made on his trousers…they were on Tav alone. She’d been attracted to the smarmy devil from the start.

Figuring all this out, Tav had one thing to consider as Raphael reached for his belt: what did she do?

Indulge, of course. An opportunity like this only appeared once in a lifetime. A street cat like Tav knew it better than most.

So she bit her lip, breath baited, as Raphael freed his cock and balls, both fat with need. Ogled as he furiously, shamelessly, rubbed his prick, squeezed its swollen sticky dark pink head, his tight scrotum bouncing with the force, staring right at her as he did. Sighed when he came in moments, grunting, cum spilling on the ground, all over his knuckles, everywhere. His expression was stormy, devoid of relief or rapture, his cock refusing to soften.

“It’s not enough,” he hissed even as he milked more cum from himself in oozing pearls that lazily trickled between his glans, teeth bared in frustration. “It’s not enough.”

He looked furious, frantic, frayed, and so, so fuckable.

“Come here, then,” said Tav, distantly aware of how breathy she sounded, “let’s try something else.”

He was on her in a second. A waiting predator pouncing on its prey. Tav could barely gasp before he was swallowing her mouth in harsh, biting kisses, one hand fisting the hair at the back of her head, the other holding her hip with bruising strength. Tav greedily put her hands all over him, yanking his silky too-perfect hair, scratching his slick chest and stomach, crushing handfuls of his pliant backside. He was like a furnace, radiating stifling heat. He smelled like cherries and musky sweat. So human, but for the hint of sulphur he simply couldn’t hide. His tongue tasted like wine and fire when he forced it into her mouth, hungrily licking behind her teeth. He was a man unravelling, so much desire pressed beneath the surface just waiting for an excuse like this to burst free, and Tav wanted to see it all.

“Wretch,” Raphael spat when they broke apart. The ribbons of saliva connecting their lips were tinged red. He’d bitten her bloody. “Invading my thoughts…my dreams…and now my body…”

“Your fault,” Tav retorted, crying out when he jerked her head back, rolling his aching prick against her clothed sex.

“Inside,” he growled, losing coherence, “need to be inside…”

He manhandled her, pushing her onto a nearby broken desk. With one hand, and in one yank, he pulled her trousers and smallclothes down to her ankles. Tav heard fabric rip but couldn’t find the will to care. The eerie, twisted moonlight coming in from jagged cracks in the stone, the cursed lands’ grotesque long shadows – these things stretched and warped Raphael’s silhouette into the monster he truly was. Tav swore she felt claws, fangs, horns, saw the glint of yellow eyes…but he was still a man, driven and desperate, who pried her thighs open and stuffed her full of his cock, who rocked up on the balls of his feet to get as deep inside her cunt as possible.

“Fuck,” she groaned, raking her fingernails down his back. She was wet and willing, but it had been a while, he’d entered her without preamble, and his cock was thick. He was unforgiving, selfish, searching only for his own pleasure. The stretch, the burn, as he used her, fucking her hard, fast, violent, was hideous and exquisite. She clenched her cunt around his cock and he came immediately, snorting into her ear like a rutting bull. Filled her womb with hot liquid release. She could feel it spurting out of his cock with every throb. He had so much to give, and still he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Much to Tav’s delight.

There would be Hell to pay when this was over.

[ticklygiggles]

Wild Instinct | Cynonari

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR FABIFABIIIIII (@lovelynim) I love you soooo much, I hope you like this little giftie gift ❤️ I tried to post it in kinda morning time for you because... yes. I wish you the happiest of days today Fabifabifabifabifabifabifabi! ❤️❤️ MWWWAAAAAHH

Summary: Did you know fennec foxes are playful creatures? Cyno didn't. 

Words: 1k+

He was not one to take work home, he preferred to finish all those matters at the end of his workday and enjoy his free time with Tighnari at home, however, Cyno had been terribly busy these past couple of days and the paperwork had piled up, (thanks to a certain Acting Grand Sage), so he decided to take just a little bit home, just to lighten the next day's load. 

It wasn't going to take too long, he had told Tighnari, who was resting on the couch while Cyno read his papers at the Forest Watcher's desk, surrounded by botany books, notes and some ointments that smelled really good. Cyno had barely sat down in front of the desk, if he had to say, he had been at it for about five minutes when he felt something lean against his shoulder from behind; fur tickled his cheek and he smiled as he felt Tighnari's ear twitching against his skin. 

“Missing me already?” He teased, smiling as he turned a page in the file in front of him. Tighnari did not answer, but his head nudged against Cyno's shoulder again, softly moving from side to side as if he was saying no. “I'll be done in just a few minutes, Nari, you wanna go to bed now- ack!” 

A poke to his bare waist made him jump nearly out of the roof. He reached out and captured Tighnari’s hand in his. “N-Nari, I'm really going to be finished in only a few minutes, could you– n-noho!” 

Another poke to his other side had him giggling softly and Cyno quickly caught that hand as well, turning around to look at Tighnari. “What–!” 

Tighnari had raised his head, their eyes meeting, and Cyno felt something funny swirling in his chest. Now, that was a look he didn't see often. Tighnari was smiling brightly at him, his toothy grin making Cyno flush a little. His beautiful eyes shone as brightly as the first rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tall forest trees, a spark of playful malice in them. His adorable nose was scrunched up on one side, as if he were daring Cyno to do something. Cyno blinked a few times, slowly letting go of Tighnari's hands. 

“What... do you need, Nari? I- ahahaha!” Tighnari’s hands latched to his waist and squeezed it, making Cyno giggle and rise from his seat like a spring. “Nahari, what-” 

Turning to face Tighnari, the Forest Watcher quickly walked away, barely able to contain a chuckle as he continued to show his teeth in a wide smile and wrinkle his nose. Cyno didn't understand what was happening– he had never actually seen Tighnari behave that way, and for a moment he worried, thinking that maybe some plant spore had done something to him. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the only sound that left his lips was a squeal as Tighnari poked his exposed belly. 

Cyno caught Tighnari's hand again, and to Cyno's surprise, Tighnari laughed, using his free hand to try to get away while letting out panicked giggles and Cyno understood, or at least he thought he did. 

“Oh? You want to play, Tighnari?” Tighnari's expression seemed to brighten even more and Cyno smiled, although he didn't really understand what was happening, however, who was he to deny something to Tighnari? 

Cyno smirked and pulled Tighnari against him, his arm wrapping around Tighnari's waist as the other cupped his side. Tighnari jolted and he let out a laugh. 

“I haven't done anything yet? Why are you giggling so much alreHEhe! Hohold ohon!” 

Cyno had to let go of him when his hips got tickled. Tighnari giggled and he quickly backed away, looking back as he slowly walked away. Oh, he wanted Cyno to chase him? How adorable. The Mahamatra chuckled and he faked Tighnari, making him think he was going to start running after him, Tighnari screamed and ran a few steps before realizing that Cyno was not chasing him yet, but then Cyno did it when Tighnari was distracted and in two strides, he almost caught him, but Tighnari was very agile and laughing like a child, he snuck away from Cyno. 

Cyno chased him throughout the house and almost got dizzy as he circled the couch a thousand times. Tighnari was impossible to catch, moving so quickly from one side to the other that Cyno had tripped over his own feet many times already, but he was the Mahamatra and a very skilful one; he managed to corner Tighnari near the bed with his chasing skills, (and maybe a little luck), and finally trapped him in his arms, both falling to the bed with a soft 'thud'. 

“Gotcha, Nari,” he said and wasted no time. His hands glued to Tighnari's sides and started to squeeze them up and down. 

Tighnari threw his head back with bright, happy giggles. His hands pawed weakly at Cyno's hands as he barely squirmed under Cyno's weight. 

“Cynohoho!” 

“Oh, so you can talk, Nari. I thought a little mouse had eaten your tongue,” Cyno said playfully, straddling Tighnari's hips as his fingers climbed up towards his ribs. The fennec’s laughter turned louder and more panicky, but his hands simply wrapped around Cyno's wrists as his ribs were played like a new instrument. Cyno smirked. “Let's play the Nari~” 

His fingers ran over each rib and into the spaces between them and Cyno had to laugh as he noticed that Tighnari's laugh changed depending on where his fingers toyed, just like an instrument. The melody of his laughter became more intense and vibrant as Cyno played with his highest ribs, near the hollows of his armpits. If he went to the lowest ones, his almost hysterical laughter turned into frantic giggles that made him snort adorably. 

“I'm composing a masterpiece," Cyno said, smiling widely. "Who knows, maybe Nilou will want to do a dance to this new melody of mine. What do you say, Nari?”

Tighnari couldn't do anything but laugh, his cheeks were red and Cyno thought they were even a little sore. His long black eyelashes were dampened with tears caused by laughter and glistened in the dim light of the room. Cyno rarely saw Tighnari laughing like that, not even his best jokes could make him laugh that hard, plus he usually didn't tickle him because Tighnari was brutal when he took revenge on him. 

But Tighnari seemed to be having too much fun and something warm spread across Cyno's chest. Since when did Tighnari behave like this? Was it common for the Valuka Shuna race to be like this? He wondered, and would ask Tighnari about it some other time, right now he was busy making his lover happy– but perhaps he was a bit too out of breath right now. 

His hands slowed down until he was simply tracing each bone, so Tighnari could catch his breath. The Forest Watcher giggled sweetly, his hands wrapping around Cyno's wrists moved out of the way, (It wasn't like they were really trying to keep Cyno's hands away, anyway), and he willingly put his arms up by each side of his head. 

To Cyno's surprise, Tighnari began to make a very peculiar sound. A sound he has never heard before, it was something like…

“Are you purring, Nari?” 

Cyno could definitely describe that sound as a purr, just a bit more squeaky

“Hmm~” Tighnari nodded, giggling as Cyno lightly tickled his ribs. “Chase me again.”

Cyno raised his brows. “Again? I have to finish my paperwork, Nari, and- 

“Just once, yes?” Tighnari begged with a saw expression. “Didn't you have fun?” 

Of course Cyno had fun. Tighnari wasn't like this all the time, he really thought this was some kind of wild instinct kicking in, and he definitely loved it, but he really needed to finish his work or else tomorrow… 

“Just once, yes? Then I'll help you with your w-wohohork- I sahahaid chahasing!” 

Cyno giggled, “of course, first try to escape and I'll chase you, how does that sound?”

It seemed like he'll have to worry about that paperwork tomorrow, right now he was very busy playing with his cute Tighnari– stupid Acting Grand Sage could survive without those documents on time.

[ganondoodle]

totk cataclysm event wasnt just a great (but utterly missed) opportunity to change the map in techincally little ways that has drastic consequences both in stakes and in gameplay (like i mentioned before, flooding the gerudo desert would have meant devastating consequences for its ecosystem- like imagine little islands of sand still poking out, acting as a sort of last doomed refuge for sandseals- but also cahnged the entire gameplay of it, good chance to introduce some neat new ways to surf on water like a new ridable creature or an ice shield freezing a path while you surf on it, the gerudo being forced to save the city from drowing in various means or now living on the roofs, trying to adapt by building boats ect - also call back to older games?? since totk loves that so much ..-, vah naboris serving as the savest refuge being high above the water, even if non functional; similarly takign away ALL water from the zora region, gaving it all dry out would imemdiately turn into something way different and could mean death for the zora- forcing them to move to the lower parts of akkala for example- maybe vah ruta is still halfway functioning bc the faith the zora have to mipha, dorephan and sidon is, while not enough to keep it fully functional, but enough to generate some water so the most stubborn or brave zora set up around it like a last oasis; i know its somewhat done with death mountain but the gorons dont really suffer from it bc their only problem is a drugged rock that makes them mean and lazy ..- what about collapsing or exploding it, leaving a large crater that over the course of the game could start to grow with plant life since vulcanic earth is so fertile- some never seen before ones that was dormant in the lava and now that its cooled off is springing to life, which might seem good at first but for the area and its wildlife means loss of their habitat; the rito freezing over, but actually having to move, maybe into the tabantha canyon, building their new makeshift homes in between the walls of it- generally just switiching things around a bit would have done so much wihtout having to edit every last detail ((seriously tho, how did this game take so long given that botw took similar but they did that ENTIRE main map as detailed as it is AND made it all coherent with itself and its themes- im ranting again ..)

-but it ALSO would have been the perfect opportunity to introduce new weather types created by the sudden change in environment, somethign like a super strong wind that slows you when walking agaisnt and lets you jump much farther when with it- a darkness thing that clouds the world in utter darkness with only little light getting through anything that is caused by mushrooms from the udnerground invading the surface and their spores snuffs out all light (which could explain the weird darkness in the ruins from botw too!!), or just simply mist! making everything misty changes the entire feel of any environment drastically- you could make vertain enemies spawn only in certain weather conditions, lessening the repetive overuse of them; and that is only on the surface- what if the sky had sunbeams so strong it sets anything on fire if you dare to leave the shadows- to comabt it get a armor with a giant hat!! the underground could have been filled with different environments in the first place, but then of course thered be those dark spores of mushrooms, an entire forest you have to carefully travers other wise making them release their spores and make it all more difficult, glowy mushrooms, MORE glowy mushroms, theres so many weird ass shrooms IRL you could take inspo from!! maybe soemthing like a forest of kelp, long flowy plants obstructing view and making you anxious by any movement- there could be one thats a mimic or infected with miasma, slightly off color and its knobs are malice eyes that open only if it thinks you cant see it

(also for the idea of taking botws stuff and recontextualizing it, the guardians or shrines, now non fucntional, could be infected my miasma sometimes, maybe randomly to keep you guessing- an overgrown shrine suddenly lifting itself up with hands clawing at you when you get too close or do sth wrong to distrub it- similar with guardians tho the effect might be less since you know them as a threat already- or sth i mentioned in another post, a tower being used as a weapon by a gigatic miasma monster- the one in the gerudo region with the bottomless pit for example, perfect for an arena for you to run around in the spiral while its swinging at you etc etc)

JUST taking what botw had and mixing it up, expanding on it, even if technically little change, it could do so much but in the actual game death mountain and rito is the only ones that saw anything of a change like it, and it largely .. didnt change anything or was reversible easily, and had no actual consquences that meant anything, neither stakes nor environmental or narratively (the gerudo felt like it at first but its also largely reversible, its just kinda .. adding a bit of city)

i hhhhhhhhhhhhhh have so many thoughts still, i am just better at holding them back .... also dont wanna annoy lmao

[munchkin1156]

Mycelium Menace

Well, first time writing hermitcraft g/t, and I’m still pretty nervous! I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

(You are Here!!) Pt 1, Pt 2

@arc852 hi I’m that sparkly anon who offered you cookies here it is

Word count: 1,266

(editors note: A SMALL PART OF THE BEGINNING IS MISSING. WILL BE FIXED WHEN PART TWO COMES OUT)

(another edit: FIXED)

. . .

Near the centre of the city there’s a street. It’s perfect driving distance to anywhere that’s useful, and yet, hardly anybody lives there. Not because the houses were too expensive, or didn’t look good, but because of the small apartment building right in the middle of it.

There were sixteen official inhabitants, five who basically lived there, and two who…

Well, the humans, who had taken to the name ‘hermits’ instead, so that is what we’ll call them, think these two are ghosts. Ghosts who left sticky notes for reminders or shopping requests, ghosts who took random small items with no explanation, ghosts who found lost keys and earrings when needed. Which they accepted, and moved on with, without thinking about it too much, so that already gives you some idea to what these hermits are like.

The hermits just… Hadn’t been surprised in the slightest from what they thought was paranormal activity, since any person, living or dead, who had the guts to stay anywhere near the place, must be pretty brave. After all, the amount of fires, pranks, wars, redstone, and summoning rituals that went around, meant that most people wouldn’t touch the place with a ten meter pole. Honestly, it was likely that one of the hermits had accidentally summoned the ghosts and they just couldn’t leave.

Since the two ghosts hadn’t destroyed or taken anything of too much value, they counted as friends. Sorry, the ‘so called’ ghosts. The hermits had never seen these ghosts, and the conclusion they had drawn was inaccurate.

Grian and Scar weren’t ghosts. They were borrowers, but it was obvious no one had guessed that. No one was supposed to know what borrowers were!

What were borrowers then? Borrowers were… Well, think of fairies. Remove the wings, the magic, the fake, naive, fantasy aspect to them, and make them live in the walls. They ‘borrowed’ things from humans, taking stuff they wouldn’t miss. Scraps of food, bits of cloth… The bare minumum to live, to survive.

They weren’t supposed to get found, seen or caught, but those rules, the Code, hadn’t said anything about leaving sticky notes out. Even if that technically showed the humans they existed. Even if Grian kept getting tangled in the sticky notes. In case you were wondering, he was a bit shorter than one, unlike Scar, who was significantly taller.

And true, it was a lot more terrifying than most human houses to live in, but there was stuff that would go unnoticed if taken everywhere. And it was so much more fun, more exciting. Oh! And the fact they could actually ask for their own food from the heavenly place the hermits got their food from, called a ‘super market’, which was the best thing in existence, also significantly benefitted them.

Everything had been going great for them so far. Nothing had had any reason whatsoever to be changed. Everyone was perfectly content with the situation at hand.

…Until Grian started planting mushrooms, that is.

Scar didn’t understand from where Grian had gotten mushroom spores, and at this moment, he didn’t want to know. But now there were purple mushrooms growing all over the little room in the walls that he called home, and something needed to be done about it. Especially since they’d started growing in the hermits’ apartments as well.

First he’d complained to Grian about it. Grian had listened carefully as Scar explained about the inconvenience of it all, the danger of maybe getting caught, and the sheer reason that he didn’t like mushrooms. His friend had told him to hold out his hands. Then he’d dropped a mushroom in them.

That was where Scar had drawn the line.

He had paced the floor of his mushroomified abode, muttering and thinking. It hadn’t been the first time they had pulled pranks on each other, having stuck together for over ten years now, and they’d been inspired by the residents of the apartment complex they lived in, but Scar had a feeling this was going to be a little more extreme than your typical scheme or trick. This would be a prank war.

A war. He liked the sound of that. And from what little Scar knew about wars, he knew that he needed recruitment to help him win.

So the next day, several hermits woke up to a blue sticky note on their desks. The groupchat, which, while supposed to be used for important things, ended up being literally anything anyone thought was interesting, discussed this.

. . .

XisumaVoid: [insert image] anyone know what this is?

FalseSymmetry: I got one of those too!

ImpulseSV: I haven’t… Can’t read the writing in the image. What’s SG saying?

Mumbojumbo: Who’s SG??

ImpulseSV: Scar Ghosts!

MumboJumbo: Is Grian GG then…?

ImpulseSV: …

XisumaVoid: It reads: Mayor gtwScar needs YOU to stop the mycelium that’s spreading throughout the apartment complex! The ~bor~ ghost known as Grian is the one causing this spore infestation, and that needs to be FIXED immediately! Sign below if you agree and want to join:

XisumaVoid: I think I know why some of the hermits haven’t gotten one… he’s picked smartly

BdoubleO100: Yeah, I see it clear as day!

RenDog: Hey! Rude

ZedaphP: Hi! Why have only some people got a letter then? (Won’t sign mine because my house is still recovering from the last prank war we had)

BdoubleO100: Because MOST of you WANT another war instead of peace and prosperity from our amazing ghostly mayor!

ZedaphP: Thanks!

StressMonster101: Wait who’s mayor? Xisuma??

CubFan135: Scar is apparently

TangoTek: eyyyyyyyy war!!! Are we only fighting G-ghost?

ImpulseSV: Why are you on Scar’s side!?

XisumaVoid: Judging from past experiences Tango, no.

GeminiTay: I know I haven’t officially moved in yet but why can I see a window burning? Standing outside btw, can someone let me in?

XisumaVoid: That’s a good question Gem

XisumaVoid: I don’t know

RenDog: Be right there Gem!

XisumaVoid: @DocM77

DocM77: Don’t put it out! It’s all part of the process!

GeminiTay: …

XisumaVoid: …

MumboJumbo: …

FalseSymmetry: Meeting dismissed?

XisumaVoid: Right. Meeting dismissed.

. . .

While Grian didn’t have access to the Hermitcraft groupchat (as it had been dubbed), being a bit on the small side to use phones, he did know Scar was up to something. And he definitely noticed the removal of his beautiful mushroom gifts in some of the hermits’ apartments. What did Scar take him for, some kind of fool?

It had taken a couple of eavesdropped conversations to figure out the gist of it, but only once he’d found one of Scar’s extra sticky note copies did he properly understand what was going on. His eyes shined, reflecting the chaotic fire that had begun to burn inside of him.

Scar wanted a war with the mycelium? Then Grian would happily oblige. Jimmy would be glad to know the spores of his had not gone to waste. And if the next day, several handpicked hermits received their own special sticky notes? That was none of Scar’s concern for now. Grian was ready for a resistance. As he grabbed some supplies to go borrowing, as he was beginning to run low on some items like string, and oh, some paper clips would be nice, he heard voices on the other side of the wall. Voices who were discussing the right kind of thing, not whatever Scar was calling his thing, the HEP or whatever. Voices that were discussing the mycelium, and in a good way too.

Grian was ready for a resistance. And as he shouldered his satchel, he knew the hermits were too.

. . .

I should tag my taglist………

@i-am-beckyu , @da3dm , @brick-a-doodle-do , @faeiyn-cant-write , and please tell me if I’m missing you or you want to be added!

[callmelyc]

Lance had been missing for a month now and nothing gives any signs of where he could be.

Keith has searched everywhere to find any semblance of a trace but he can't even remember the mission they'd been on together.

All he has to go on are his dreams of Lance. Lance who will smile at him in those dreams but not speak, who is serene during Keith's turmoil.

Lance who just cups his face and mouths the words "it's ok, you know."

But he doesn't. Keith doesn't know and it's driving him insane.

He's been to countless planets, meetings, debriefs. Nothing. Not a drop of evidence for where Lance McClain could be. Yet when Keith goes to sleep at night he'll see Lances face behind his eyelids watching and waiting patiently as if he never left.

~•~

One night when Keith crashes from exhaustion something feels different. There's sound in his dream and a maze. He goes through every challenge, each asking after some form of mental gymnastics but it feels so important that Keith can't ignore doing them.

He's reached a standstill, one in the center of the maze, when he hears it. A laugh like early spring, bright and oh so airy.

Wind chimes gently accompany the laugh and the warmth of a sun encapsulates Keith's whole being. He follows like it's a sirens song only to find dream Lance waiting by a small lake that he'd never seen before.

"Took you long enough mullet."

Keith's breath catches in his throat "I can hear you..."

All lance does is smile at him in amusement, waving Keith closer as if everything is normal. As if anything about this whole thing is normal.

Keith kneels next to him, taking a hand and pulls it close to his chest "where are you Lance?"

Lances free hand comes up to gently cup Keith's cheek. His thumb running soothingly into the flesh "you know where I am."

"But I don't! I haven't been able to find you for weeks!"

Lances smile softens "I'm right where you left me sweetheart."

Before Keith can retort he's ripped from his dream and everything floods back. A mission, a planet with plants that fight back.

Vines and poison.

A demand that told Keith to go get help, he'd be fine just go get help Keith.

Keith flings himself out of their bed and he's rushing to black faster than he can think. He knows where Lance is and he won't leave him waiting anymore.

This time when Keith goes down to this planet he makes sure he wears undamaged armor. This time, he makes sure the team is on emergency standby. This time....this time he's on heavier guard.

They'd underestimated this planet last time and it got Lance caught because of it.

Coran ran some test with Pidge and determined the reason they'd forgotten was due to the poison the spores produced.

A defense mechanism he'd said, so that the victims of their earth could not be saved. They were unsure how quickly the plants could consume their victims but coran and Pidge said it was unlikely Lance was harmed thanks to his armor.

"At most he's asleep, at worse he has some abrasions. It seems like a slow solvent in the goo the plants produce to trap the victims. Sorta like Venus fly traps but vines."

"And the forgetting part?" Keith asks while chopping through vines.

"Seems like a way to confuse the things harming them in hopes they leave or stop fighting to be the next target. It probably didn't expect you to escape."

"But we all forgot this mission Pidge."

"That would be because you were covered in the spores lad! When you returned we all fell under it's influence."

Keith huffs, cutting through more of the vines.

"Not to worry, when you two return we'll make sure to run you both through decontamination. No forgetting allowed this time."

"Yeah yeah, just be on standby."

Before long he's retraced his steps right back to the clearing from before. The entire area is overwhelmed with tangled vibes, huge flowers, roots ready to spring up and trap you.

Keith treads carefully across the earth making sure to not wake anything before it's time to fight back. First things first, he needs to determine where Lance is.

He prys his fingers between vines to peek inside. Vine clump after vine clump and nothing. No signs of Lance, no signs that any of these could fit a body underneath.

Then he sees it, a streak of white and blue. It's almost easy to overlook it, buried in the dirt, but it's his helmet the same one that got pulled off his head and got him poisoned to begin with.

Keith rushes over as fast as he can manage with the delicate nature of his steps. Sure enough, underneath the mound of vines near the helmet is Lance.

He's cocooned inside the vines, tangled so tightly in them Keith is surprised he's breathing. There's only one chance here, Keith knows he has to be fast enough or neither will make it out they'll both end up in vines if he fails.

So he holds his blade right and slices deep into the vine cocoon. The moment theres an opening Keith can hear the hisses from the plants as they realize there's someone fighting back, but he ignores them and he pushes in to pull Lance free.

Lance is covered in thick slime, he's unconscious and unresponsive but Keith doesn't have time to try to get him to move. He throws lance over his shoulder and breaks into a run.

The escape is difficult with lances dead weight making it hard to dodge all the angry plants shooting up towards them but the second they're within blacks sight the lion scoops them up and shoots into space.

This time no one forgot anything. No one will forget Lance and this time, lance won't be just a dream.

~•~

It takes two weeks for Lance to wake up. Bodily he was unharmed but the amount of poison from the slime covering him had placed their red paladin into a coma.

Keith dutifully sat by his bedside as everyone tried to convince him he wasnt guilty for forgetting.

"You didn't know"

"but I left him there..."

"You didn't know, none of us did."

He'd make sure Lance ate Hunks broths, he'd brush Lances hair for him because he knows he'd hate to wake to tangles. Keith did his skincare for him at night and kept him updated on everything that's happened.

Keith doesn't even know if Lance can hear him but the others assured Keith that his gentle care was helping even if he couldn't see it.

He wakes up one day to a hand carding weakly through his hair.

"good morning starlight."

Keith shoots up to make sure it isn't a dream. He comes face to face with blue eyes and the real version of the cocky smile he's grown to love.

"Took you long enough."

Keith practically climbs into Lances bed to pull him into an embrace "I'm so sorry-"

"None of that-" lances arm wrap around Keith just as tight "I knew you'dcome back. I was right where you left me."

Keith half sobs into the other boys shoulder "yeah...right where I left you."

Lance hums "don't worry samurai, I'll never leave you. No matter where I am I'll always be waiting."

Keith feels those hands comb through his hair again.

"always?...even if I forget?"

"Always. No matter the circumstances."

At those words Keith knows, everything will be alright. And as he eased I to lances very real, very comforting warmth, he's certain he'll never forget again.

[ohcorny]

i need to be a hater on main about scavenger's reign or i will explode. i cannot be alone in this.

now that it's being moved to netflix and people are talking about it again, all i'm seeing is glowing praise and absolutely no criticism of the writing. i will gladly agree with anyone that it's visually stunning. like, a+ in that regard no argument. great looking show, and the worldbuilding of the planet vesta is super cool and clearly considered. i like those parts! but that seems to be all anybody is responding to when they praise it.

the character writing is fucking ridiculous. i could point at any of them individually and go "what the fuck is this" but it's been months since i watched it and i don't like arguing a point i can't clearly remember. but it was the most egregious around ursula so i'm going to focus on her. her character seems to exist just to cause problems for no reason, to the point where she's also the only character we get no backstory on. we never see her in flashbacks on the ship, never learn what she did for it or why she was there, nothing about her at all. she is the only one.

and she is the #1 source of shattering my suspension of disbelief. you cannot tell me that she and sam were surviving together for a month on this incredibly hostile planet, working together every day to call the ship down, to figure out how the world worked and what was dangerous and what they could use.... and then tell me she would turn around and treat him the way she does.

spoilers below the cut

she is so hostile toward him all the time for no reason. she wanders off to go look at a weird plant in the middle of a bramble that crushes you if you don't get out the right way, leaving sam alone on the outside with no idea what she's doing or where she is or if she's alive. and when she comes out and he is VERY REASONABLY upset that she did that and isn't interested in hearing about the thing she saw, SHE gets mad at him and says she doesn't need him.

YOU DONT NEED HIM? THE GUY WHO HELPED YOU SURVIVE THIS ENTIRE TIME? THE ONLY OTHER LIVING HUMAN ON THE PLANET AS FAR AS YOU KNOW, WHO IS THE ONE WHO KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE GOING, AND HAS THE CREDENTIALS TO GET YOU INTO THE SHIP? you have been alone with him for a MONTH, he is your ONLY HUMAN COMPANION, and you think you DON'T NEED HIM?? BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU IN A LOUD WAY?

this could be explainable if there was any real tension between them, or if we're given any reason to believe she actually could survive without him, but there isn't! she fucks up with the spores in the very first episode and would absolutely die if she was alone. sam is never anything but a good leader to her and keeps trying to look out for her, and any time he's "wrong" it's because he showed reasonable caution about the fuckplanet. he gets hurt by the egg parasite because he didn't want to climb into a giant animal's egg sac. reasonable thing to not want to do! when he and ursula get into that argument about her disappearing on him, he gets hauled off by the weird emu for the dramatic irony. because he was upset his only companion in the world disappeared. he never does anything wrong. it's never his actual character flaws that he gets punished for, it's only ursula's ~trusting your instincts~ shit that ever gets him hurt. she is ultimately responsible for his death but the show never acts like it.

so much of the show seemed to be drama for drama's sake. do not get me fucking started on kamen's creature. what was that thing's fucking problem. what was kris' fucking problem?

if i have to ask 'what is their PROBLEM' at every other character's choices, your writing is not good.

[madaboutmunson]

Sunsets and Shadows

Prompt | "The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

WC | 700

Rating | T

CW | references mcd, grief, angst

Tags | Steddie, Past Steddie, Future Fic

——————————————————

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?" It seemed as stupid a thing to say as it seemed the right.

It was, after all, the first thing he said to him all those years ago.

It was the first thing he'd say to him most days that summer of '85.

Eddie's response would usually be to jump out of his skin, drop the cigarette he was smoking, and call Steve all the curses he knew.

Then Steve would laugh, and Eddie would melt just like the colours would in the sky.

And wild as the wind, Eddie would push Steve into the dimming alleyway and plant a fast kiss on him hotter than the surface of the sun.

Eddie would offer Steve a ride most times, saving the planet, Eddie would say, but Steve knew why. He couldn't turn off and chicken out if he was in Eddie's van. Which he never did, but Eddie still thought he might.

And sometimes, even though he never told him, Steve could swear that he completely understood why he needed to always have his car with him. That somehow Eddie could read the million bad things that could happen racing through Steve's brain, and he'd just nod, smile, and chuck him a mixtape and a cigarette and be none the wiser about great hulking monsters or spores in tunnels under the ground.

It was a change for him, not having everyone and their mother knowing who he was dating. And it was a change for Eddie to be dating anyone at all.

But whether they ended up at Eddie's, Steve's, Rick's, or some secluded part of Hawkins, the prize was the same.

A few hours of exploring one another physically and mentally. 

Sometimes, he'd remind Eddie that the kids he knew would hit high school next year, and he felt terrible not being there to protect them because they were nerds. Eddie would reassure him there was plenty of room in his flock for a few more, kiss and pet over his hair and tell him not to worry as he lay on his chest in the moonlight. 

Sometimes, he'd even help Eddie study because they had a deal.

When Eddie graduated, they'd tell their friends, and the secret would be over. They would be free. Maybe they would move in together or find someplace more accepting.

But Eddie didn't make it to graduation. Neither did Chrissy, Jason, Fred, or Patrick.

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?" he repeated, his heart aching for Eddie to react or respond, but he was met with cold, harsh silence.

"Please, Eddie, don't shut me out. I'd take it back if I could. I'd do right by you. Keep you safe." Steve's voice trembled as he twisted the surprise bunch of wildflowers behind his back.

The sound of the van pulling up made him scramble to put the flowers in the holder next to Eddie's tombstone and grab his walking stick.

"I told you he'd be here," an annoyed voice said. "We could have saved ourselves half an hour if you'd just listened."

The second orderly scoffs at the first, "It's protocol. No one in their right mind would have expected him to hobble this far."

"Except for me."

"I said in their right mind." She shook her head before switching to her professional, cheery demeanour. 

"Mr Harrington, what are you doing all the way out here? We were all awfully worried. Come along now. Let's get you back safe and sound."

"Or we could just leave the lunatic here. I felt sorry for him at first, being so young and messed up but not crazy enough for Pennhust, though I would dispute that. Who the hell leaves flowers for a serial killer? Just because Harrington hasn't done anything yet doesn't mean he won't."

"He's not that young, and he needs our help. You know he forgets, or worse, remembers and gets stuck in the eighties."

Steve made his way over to the van and refused the assistance to get inside. 

As they drove back, he watched the sky. 

Like his heart, the sun sunk, but like their love, he knew it continued to shine somewhere.

[across-violet-skies]

@unexpectedstormy Stormy!!!! a fic for you!!! this took me WAY longer than I'd like to admit, lol, but it's finally done and just in time too!!!

admittedly I don't know you as well as I'd like, but I do know you like Wild and Hyrule, so....... well, you'll see :3

I hope you have a super awesome day!!! enjoy it <3

(also, thanks to @anime-obsessed for coming up with the herb name!)

preview under the cut!!!

Wild hummed to himself, crouching in the tall grass to take a picture with his slate. “Hey ‘Rulie, do you recognize this?” He snapped the picture, examining it in his slate. “My slate can’t identify it!”

“Hm?” Hyrule glanced over at Wild. “What?”

“This mushroom,” the Champion repeated, pointing into the grass. Sure enough, a tiny, blue-tinted mushroom sat pretty in the parted lawn, round and innocuous and tempting.

Hyrule squatted down beside Wild, eyes shining with curiosity. “I’ve never seen it before, no,” he murmured. Hesitantly, he held out a finger, flicking the spongey texture with wide eyes. A small cloud of spores puffed out from the mushroom, cloudy blue in color. “Oh!”

“Ooh…” Wild took another picture, shutter clicking. “Should I take it?”

The traveler glanced around, frowning. “I don’t see any more of them around here…” He gently touched the mushroom, bending the stem slightly to get a better look at it. “I don’t think we should take it if there’s no more of them around. They might be really important to the wildlife here.”

Wild sighed, but put his slate away. As much as he hated to admit it, Hyrule was right. Taking that mushroom could prove disastrous for the local ecosystem, and who was he to cause harm to the planet? He loved the world– his nickname was literally Wild. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Hyrule’s ears perked as his head swiveled. “Oh, Wild, look over here!” A few quick paces led him to a new plant, one tall and leafy with pale yellow stripes tracing the leaf veins. It smelled strongly of herbs, like what Wild would sometimes toss in a meal to season it.

“Oh, I know this one!” The cook pressed the stem between two fingers, sliding his hand along to pick off the leaves. “This is Sunlight Sage. I use it in cooking all the time!” He stored the leaves in his slate, adding them to bolster his stock.

Hyrule hummed. “It smells nice,” he noted.

Wild grinned, nodding. “Yeah! Oh, here’s another one; let me show you how to pick the leaves!” he crouched down beside the second plant, pointing along the stem. “See how the leaves all point up like that? If you slide your hand in the opposite direction, they come off super easy!” He demonstrates, plucking the leaves off the top half of the stem. “And it makes your hands smell like herbs, too.”

Hyrule lit up, eyes sparkling. He grabbed the stem, pinching it in the same way he had seen Wild do it. Carefully, he moved his fingers, breaking off the leaves as he went. His lips split into a wide grin. “Oh!”

“Cool, right?”

“So cool!” Hyrule agreed, handing over the leaves he had picked. Wild stored them in his slate. “Wild! Look!” The traveler gasped, pointing into the grass. “Another one of those weird mushrooms!”

Wild didn’t hesitate. He laid flat on his stomach, at eye level with the strange blue mushroom. Hyrule followed suit. “Does that mean I can take it?”

Hyrule shrugged. “Probably!”

The Champion lit up, sitting back on his haunches. Hyrule poked the mushroom again, giggling at the way it sproinged back up. Another small puff of blue spores released from the fungus, dusting Hyrule’s nose with a fine blue layer. Wild plucked it from the dirt, pinching it at the stem. It got tossed in the slate along with the Sunlight Sage.

Hyrule wrinkled his nose, reeling back as a sneeze racked his small form. “Ugh,” he groaned, sniffling. “That’s a weird mushroom.”

Wild glanced over. Hyrule’s nose had a light coating of blue over it, the skin underneath already starting to turn an angry red. “Oh!” Wild grabbed the hem of his tunic, pulling it up to wipe the spores off Hyrule’s face. When he pulled away, however, it looked the same. “Uh oh…”

“What?” Hyrule tilted his head, brows furrowed. His nose twitched, and another sneeze sent a shiver down his spine. Tears pooled in his eyes, easily blinked away. “Is something wrong?”

Wild grimaced, grabbing Hyrule by the arm. “We need to get you back to the others,” he insisted. “You might be allergic to that mushroom or something! Your face is all red and blotchy.”

“It is?” The traveler blinked slowly, almost in a daze. He didn’t fight as Wild tugged him along, dragging him through the fields. “Mmm… yeah, I don’t feel so good, actually…”

They ran through the field, Hyrule stumbling on every step as Wild pulled him along. The traveler sneezed and wheezed and coughed, red in the face. The dusty blue coating on his nose stubbornly remained. “Wil’, I don’-”

A massive boulder slammed into them from the side, crushing Wild and snapping Hyrule’s left arm.

The traveler howled, gritting his teeth with a choked gasp. The force of the impact knocked him back, and broke his arm, sure, but it hadn’t been aimed at him.

Wild… Wild was underneath the boulder.

Through his daze, Hyrule stumbled back to his feet. He grunted, shoving at the boulder with his good arm, silently praying that one power bracelet would be enough to move it off his friend. And move it did, shifting slowly and agonizingly until a red-stained blue tunic was fully uncovered.

Behind him, another boulder flew by. Hyrule gasped, diving down into the grass. It was tall enough to hide both him and… uh… Blue Tunic. Peeking over, he could see a giant rock monster, lumbering aimlessly through the field.

Hyrule closed his eyes, trying to fend off the dizzy spell that threatened to take him down. He sighed, resting his head against the red and blue pillow underneath him.

It was warm.

And wet.

And… breathing?

Hyrule sat up with a gasp. No, it wasn’t a pillow. That was his friend, his friend who was dying after getting hit with… with…

The traveler squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t matter. He needed to help his friend.

-> read the rest on ao3!!

[hauntedtrait]

Serenity for @potionio's Guild Amakiir!

race: firbolg/satyr

class: circle of spores druid

pronouns: he/him

alignment: chaotic neutral

character sheet

private dl if chosen

Hailing from a village of seers, healers and spiritual guides, Serenity was never one much for the adventuring life, preferring to remain where his roots are firmly planted.

However, when kids from his village and neighboring villages started disappearing, Serenity knew he had to do something. There were no warriors where he came from, but he had enough knowledge of poisons and plants that can kill, that he figured those skills could be put to good use in hunting for whatever was responsible.

So he joined up with the closest adventuring guild he could find, willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe and protected.

Oddly, since leaving home, he has begun having horrible nightmares, and something tells him it's more than just a nightmare. Memory perhaps? He can't say, but he sure hopes it's not that.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Save Fae-ce

Part 1/3

Summary:

3) Do not eat their food. Mushroom rings were made out of mushrooms, right? It was in the name, so you would assume so. Well, what if Tim found a particularly interesting one, showed Bernard, and then took a few mushrooms to make stew? Surely, then, Bernard would have to concede that faeries were fake.

Or: A two-for-one deal!

Tim Drake knew that faeries weren’t real.

The stories didn’t really add up. Why was the faerie able to bring back Dick Grayson’s parents from the dead? Why had Barbara Gordon’s parents allowed her to go into the forest every day? Why was Willis Todd allowed to live, if he had disrespected the fae so blatantly? Why did people just automatically assume that David Cain’s house was empty because he had been taken by the fae? And, if faeries were so powerful, why would they be stopped by something as simple as an iron fence?

And, really, if Bernard was agreeing with something, it should automatically be ruled as nothing more than a conspiracy theory.

And Tim was determined to prove this once and for all.

He wasn’t, exactly, sure how he was supposed to prove it. You can’t prove a negative, it’s impossible. But he was sure that he would figure it out when he got there.

So, he walked through the forest. Holding a sheet of paper, listing all of the town’s rules for interacting with the faerie. Bernard had insisted that, if Tim really had to go out into the woods, he needed to take it with him. Tim really didn’t care for it. If he hadn’t been so vehemently against littering, he probably would have tossed it out.

… actually. He smoothed out the slightly crumpled paper to examine the rules. Maybe it would give him some ideas as to how he could prove that the faerie were fake.

He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully as he looked it over, and was disappointed to find that almost all of the rules were about talking to the fae, which was kind of problematic when he wanted to prove that faerie didn’t exist.

All of them, except for two.

The more interesting of the two was the one warning people away from mushroom rings. He’d love to use that one, but Bernard would just argue that any of the ones they found and subsequently stepped into weren’t magical. There were plenty of non-magical rings, apparently. Something about how they spread their spores outwards in search of nutrients, and the ones in the middle died when they ran out, leaving a large ring.

Still, that combined with the rule above it made an interesting idea form in his mind.

3) Do not eat their food.

Mushroom rings were made out of mushrooms, right? It was in the name, so you would assume so.

Well, what if he found a particularly interesting one, showed Bernard, and then took a few mushrooms to make stew? Surely, then, Bernard would have to concede that faeries were fake.

Tim smiled to himself as he started pushing his way through the woods in earnest. There was no path, and it seemed like the entire world was fighting against him, but he had a goal now and a few more hours before dark and he wanted to find a ring today so he wouldn’t have to worry about Bernard complaining about them wandering in circles for hours.

But, after a while, he groaned and dropped down into the brush. His legs ached. He had worn long pants, thank god, so he didn’t have to worry about any of the plants scraping up his legs, but that didn’t stop him from growing tired of walking over uneven terrain. He hated the forest. His parents loved it, and often went out exploring the depths of it for weeks on end, coming back bearing amazing treasures that they had found and bartered for in other lands. He had never understood their passion for it, and he was too young for those kinds of expeditions, so he always ended up left behind. Now, he couldn’t bring himself to even be kind of sad about this fact. He eyed the sun warily as he brought a canteen to his lips. This was awful.

Maybe he could use the fact that his parents went out into the forest and came out unscathed regularly. Surely, that had to at least suggest that the forest was safe. Because he was not getting anywhere on the finding rings front.

He sighed to himself, pushing limp hair out of his eyes and glancing around, trying to get his bearings so he could start finding his way home.

His eyes caught on an apple tree.

The apples were deliciously red, but not the deep red that was always hard and kind of sour and had that weird green tint on the inside. They were that perfect red-to-yellow-gradient that was always perfectly soft and sweet. Even better, one apple hung close enough for him to pluck. He wouldn’t even have to get on tiptoes. It was amazing.

He pulled it down without any kind of resistance and took a bite.

It was even better than he’d thought it’d be. He barely even gave himself time to chew before he was shoving another bite in his mouth. He was pretty sure he ate a couple of seeds in his fervor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the possible damage he was doing to his teeth. Even the seeds tasted perfect, and the crunch was a fun little change of textures that he could appreciate.

His eyes began to droop.

Tim thought, just for a second, that it was in pleasure. The apple was really good.

But then he struggled to open them again.

And even then he wasn’t scared of that. He was scared of not being able to finish the apple. What was wrong with him?

His last thought before he lost consciousness was questioning whether he had messed up.

~

Tim groaned a little. His head pounded, complaining at him as if he were the one to make it suffer. His face was pressed into someone’s shoulder, an almost impossibly soft blanket thrown over him. This, more than anything, was what got him to try and wake up. It was simply so strange to be so close to someone, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

He pulled back just slightly, peeking open tired eyes, wondering why even just the act of picking up his head was difficult…

He didn’t recognize this person.

He jerked away from them. The blanket, made of feathers that had been strung together neatly, fell away, and he was allowed to back up.

The person was… strange looking. Not particularly because of anything about them, admittedly. His hair was streaked with red, but Tim had seen people braid pretty flowers and feathers into their hair before. Their clothes were pretty normal, a black shirt and pants with a deep blue design on their chest that reminded Tim of a bird. The feather blanket draped around his shoulders was thick, and made him look tiny in comparison.

And yet. There was something just slightly off about him in a way that Tim couldn’t quite explain. Something in his smile made his hair stand on end.

“Hi,” they said, still smiling in that almost too-pleasant way. “You should probably sit down. The adrenaline is going to wear off, and you might crash when it does. And you’ve just Changed, so I’d really suggest not staying on your feet at the moment.”

Tim wasn’t sure what to say to that. He definitely didn’t sit down, though, his heart was pounding too hard for that. If he sat down he’d never get up.

“What’s – what’s going on?” He asked, his eyes flitting around, trying to figure out why exactly everything felt so strange. His head was still throbbing painfully in time with his too-fast heartbeat, but surely that wasn’t all that was throwing him off. They were in a clearing. The branches overhead were interwoven so tightly that he couldn’t tell the time, but that didn’t mean that the clearing was dark. A lamp flickered in a nearby tree, the firelight giving off a dim glow, and there were an array of shiny rocks in a vague ring shape that must have been reflecting the lamplight as well. A tree stump nearby was being used as a table for a chess set, and Tim could see that one of the pieces had been knocked over at some point. A swing swayed back and forth despite the lack of wind. There was a birdhouse in a nearby tree, the brilliant reds and greens stood out well against the nearby branches, but he couldn’t see any hints of an occupant. And, while it was strange to find all these hints of people frequenting this place, he wasn’t sure why it all made his skin crawl. This was all normal. The boy in front of him was normal.

And yet.

The boy tipped his head to the side, blue eyes reflecting the nearby firelight just a little too well. “You know, the rules for the fae exist for a reason,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it neatly, and then presented the list to Tim.

He took it with clumsy hands, and found himself staring down at the list that Bernard had given him.

“Because people are paranoid?”

They laughed. “Perhaps, but they have a point. I mean, most faerie would find it insulting that you haven’t yet said hello.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that faerie don’t exist then,” Tim said, raising an eyebrow at him, mentally willing him to get to the point.

There was a few moments as Tim was considered.

And then they sighed and carefully pushed themselves to their feet. But, strangely, the blanket didn’t slip from their shoulders. In fact, it pulled upwards, stretching out until Tim realized that it wasn’t a feather blanket at all.

They were wings.

They… were fake. They had to be.

Tim backed up a step, smiling tersely. “So, do you just lug those huge things into the woods to scare kids? Because that’s kind of lame, not going to lie.”

The ‘faerie’ crossed their arms over their chest. “Well, I have to lug them around everywhere, considering they’re attached to me. I guess I do scare a lot of kids with these – well, two, but I’ve only seen two human kids since I got them so I think that’s a pretty good amount. So, yes, but I don’t think you should describe a faerie as lame.”

“Really into this bit, huh? It’s not working, you can drop the act.”

His smile strained at the edges.

And then a mirror appeared in the faerie’s hand.

Sleight of hand, surely.

Or not.

They held the mirror up, and he quickly discovered the reason for his headache.

Slowly, with careful fingers, he reached up to touch one of the two bumps sprouting from his hairline.

Horns. He had horns.

And, well, the faerie was right. His legs did give out.

“I’ve got to admit, I wasn’t expecting a… ooh, it’s hard to tell. So many things have horns!” They leaned close, a hand out to touch him, as if that would help them figure out what he was, but stopped when he jerked away. Though not without a disappointed little frown. “I guess we’ll have a lot of time to figure it out, though. You’re our responsibility, now, since it’s kind of our fault that you’re a fae, so we’ll have to take care of you… ohhhhh, maybe, I’ll just ask Oracle. She’d probably take one quick look at you and be like ‘Those could only ever be the horns of a goat’ or whatever.”

Wow, this faerie talked a lot. Tim wasn’t even responding, he was just going on and on without stopping. Granted, Tim wasn’t exactly making for a good conversation partner, what with his current mental breakdown, but if anything that just made it more impressive that this guy could keep up his word vomit.

Speaking of Tim’s current mental breakdown. It wasn’t fun. He was having a very bad time, actually. Because if his head started racing any faster he was pretty sure it was going to explode. Or maybe he would get more horns. Could that happen? He sure hoped not, it didn’t sound right, but a few minutes ago he hadn’t thought that faerie were real and wow was he wrong.

Wait! Wait! He was wrong!

 “We can’t be faeries,” Tim said, and he hated the hint of desperation hanging on the edge of his tone. “Because, earlier, I said that you weren’t a fae, and fae can’t lie.”

The faerie snickered. “Not purposefully, no. But… well, let’s say that I thought the world wasn’t flat. It is but, if I truly believed it, I would be able to say that it wasn’t.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth a few times, before deciding that he was just going to let that one slide. The faerie was likely old, so maybe they were just from a time where believing the Earth was flat was normal.

And there were more important things to talk about, anyways:

“I can’t go with you back to your world.”

The faerie raised an eyebrow. “You can’t go back to your village looking like that. They’d know instantly.”

“I can wear a hat!” He argued. “It’s not that noticeable!”

“It’ll get worse as you eat more and more faerie food.”

“Well, then, I won’t.”

The faerie stared at him. And then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Ughhhhh. Oracle. I know you’re listening. Come here and explain things to him. Orphan, you can come, too. I’m sure the kid would prefer someone that looked more ‘like him’.”

Instantly, two faerie appeared on either side of Tim. It took everything in him not to react by trying to punch them.

The faerie on the left was a redhead, which was already strange for someone who hadn’t seen a redhead in their entire life, but even more strange was the dark green scales dotting her cheeks and the tail creeping out from underneath her skirt. When she gave him a smile, likely an attempt on her part to be comforting, Tim’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the fact that she had fangs.

He wanted to back away, at least a step, because those things looked sharp, but there was a faerie in that direction as well.

The faerie on the right, though… she looked like yet another human. Tan skin, warm brown eyes, jet black hair escaping from her cloth hat in wisps. A baggy black shirt and jeans gave little information as to what her frame looked like, but he would hazard a guess that she looked normal in that regard, too. If he hadn’t known better, hadn’t watched them appear out of thin air, he would have thought that they were just another person that had stumbled across the clearing.

This was what the original faerie had meant when he’d said that Tim would like to see someone more like him.

Instead of being happy, though, he was just annoyed. “Why does she get to look normal?”

The faerie in question laughed lightly, and then spoke in Tim’s own voice: “I’m a Changeling. We are made to emulate humans.”

Tim stared at her. “How did you do that?”

She looked confused.

“Another Changeling thing,” the snake-themed faerie answered for them. “Just assume everything about Orphan is based around the idea of mimicry. You’ll figure it out as you go. Best way to learn is being immersed in the culture, after all.”

“No,” Tim said, finally backing away. The faeries surrounded him on three sides, but he still had one more option, and by god was he taking it. “No.” His back hit a tree, but he didn’t care, as long as he was away from them. “I’m not going with you guys. I will not. I have a family, a friend, I’m not just going to leave because of some weird horns. I can probably cut these off if I need to, it’ll be fine. So, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not joining you.”

“That’d hurt,” Orphan pointed out.

Tim scoffed a little. Both at the obviousness of the observation and the fact that they were still using his voice. “I know. But I’m going to do it. And I’ll only have to do it once, anyways.”

Oracle tipped her head to the side. “Not sure if that’s true, actually. You’ll probably grow it back as you eat more and more fae food. Or maybe not, but eventually you’ll get more features, anyways. It’s a temporary solution, at best.”

“Then I won’t eat more fae food.”

“You’ll starve to death. Faerie don’t actually get any nutrition from human food.”

Tim pressed his lips together thinly.

The first faerie, the one with a bird theme, ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, kid, I wasn’t all that eager to join the family at first, either, but I promise you you’ll get used to the idea of it all soon enough.”

Somehow, this wasn’t as encouraging as he was clearly intending for it to be.

Silence stretched as Tim considered this all. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get out of this, but he was determined to figure it out. Maybe he could just cut off whatever features cropped up? But what if he ended up with Oracle-like scales or something like that? He couldn’t exactly cut divots into his skin without it being obvious…

“Robin,” Oracle said, finally. “It’s fine. You know Little Wing will get all annoyed if we get another kid while he’s at Talia’s. He’ll complain about how we’re ‘replacing him’ or whatever. If the kid wants to be in denial, then that’s fine.”

“Come back once a week,” Orphan instructed him, and this time she was using Oracle’s voice. It didn’t quite suit her, but it was better than when she had been using Tim’s, and he was suddenly far more willing to listen to her: “We will provide you food.”

Tim swallowed thickly.

It was a bad idea to make a deal with the fae. That was one of the rules. They would always get what they wanted, and they clearly wanted Tim to join them (if only because it was their fault he was like this). Even now, they were only talking about postponing his ‘surprise adoption’, not saying that he wasn’t going to join them. It was a later, not the not ever he had been hoping for.

But what choice did he have? He could try and scour the forest for fae food every day, but would it grow back at a fast enough rate for him to sustain himself? Would they see him not accepting their help as an insult?

He swallowed thickly, a resigned kind of tiredness settling over him.

He gave a tiny nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow for my first batch of food, then.”

And, with that, he turned to leave the clearing.

Orphan giggled behind him, and there was definitely something discomforting about hearing your own laugh come from someone else, and he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder.

Tim turned around and blinked in mild surprise as a hat was thrust into his hands.

… right. Yeah. A good thing to remember, if he didn’t want to immediately get run out of town. He toyed with the cloth in his hands. It wasn’t perfect, he would need something sturdier in the long run – especially if the horns got any larger – but it would have to do for now.

He mumbled a thanks as he shoved it over his head and, finally, left.

The forest was less confusing this time around. He wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t as if a path had suddenly opened up for him, and yet it didn’t take long before he was stepping out of the trees.

Which is when he discovered a new problem:

The town had an iron fence around it.

The words ‘This day just keeps getting better and better?’ sat on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t even say them. It was as if, every time he thought of speaking, an invisible hand would slap over his mouth, and no sound would be able to escape.

Which… that answered that question, he supposed.

He groaned to himself. He wasn’t sure whether praying was the right thing to do, considering he was anything but ungodly at the moment, but he found himself trying. He was really hoping the ‘can not come in contact with iron’ thing was a myth.

He reached out with a careful hand, pressing a finger to the metal. Pain, white-hot and burning, lanced up his arm, and he only just kept himself from screaming as he jerked his hand back. He bit down on his tongue, his breath coming heavy as he looked at the red line that had branded itself into his skin where he’d touched it.

Great.

There were gaps in the fence. There had to be official ways to enter and exit the village. Obviously. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain to the guards why he was using them. Most people didn’t bother with finding one of the four entrances, it was much faster to just climb over the side of the fence somewhere close to your house. If you ever ventured out of the village, which most people didn’t even do.

Luckily, he found a hole in the fence, and he didn’t have to worry about lying.

Yet.

Because, when he got home, he found Bernard pacing around in his living room. This wasn’t particularly new, Bernard paced when he thought, and had a tendency to drop by unannounced. However, the moment the door clicked open, Bernard’s head snapped to look, and Tim was almost tackled to the floor in Bernard’s haste to wrap him in a hug.

“Where were you?” Bernard asked, still not drawing back.

This was a good thing. He didn’t see the considering look that came over Tim’s face as he struggled to come up with a decent lie that wasn’t actually a lie because fae rules are dumb –.

“The woods.”

God damn it. Not the stellar explanation that would throw off all suspicion that he had been hoping for.

As if to prove his point, Bernard pulled back to look him in the eyes, and the incredulous look he got almost made him laugh. Maybe, if he was less stressed, he actually would have.

“You were gone for ages, Tim.”

Tim held back a minute flinch as his name was used. His eyes still snapped up to meet Bernard’s, though, as if the very word had quite literally called for his attention. A pressure began to make itself known in the back of his head, getting more and more difficult to ignore the longer he went without answering the question hidden in his friend’s words, and he was forced to scramble for something to say:

“I got lost,” he said.

Which was true. He did get lost for a little bit.

Bernard seemed less than convinced. “Lost? It’s – it’s been two weeks!”

Well, why couldn’t he have said that before?

“... really lost,” he tried.

Again, true, but not at all in the way Bernard thought. He really lost, in that he was now stuck as a faerie and had to pretend to be a human. Which he would probably be able to do, considering he had been a human for the first several years of his life, except for the fact that the main trait of faeries was that they weren’t able to tell a lie.

He was having a fun day, really.

At least he could still be sarcastic in his head. He had to take the little victories, at this point.

Because he sure was losing a lot at the moment:

“I thought you were dead!” 

Was Tim dead? Are faerie alive?

He wasn’t going to think about that too hard.

“I – I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tim said, rubbing the back of his neck. All he’d wanted was to prove that the tales about the faeries living in their forest were fake.

His friend softened just slightly. He wasn’t calm yet, there was still a hint of lingering anger and frustration and (perhaps most importantly) fear and relief warring in his expression, but he seemed less frantic now that he was here and seemingly safe.

“I wasn’t able to go looking,” Bernard said, groaning quietly. “If you died – or – or – got stolen… I wouldn’t even know.”

Out of any one person in the village, Bernard was probably the most knowledgeable about the creatures. After Barbara Gordon, the village had become far more willing to indulge kids in their interest in the fae, as long as they had an abundance of caution as well, lest they go seeking the fae for their answers like she had. And Bernard had always been the most intrigued out of anyone in the village. But, when you know a lot about something, sometimes that makes it harder to confront it. If you can recount several stories about faeries turning people into mounds of sticks or beating a man within an inch of his life, all in the name of ‘divine’ retribution, just off of the top of your head… well, you might be more hesitant to go near the things that did it.

But, despite his wariness, Bernard was considered a ‘high-risk’ case. He was too interested in the fae, and so he wasn’t allowed out of the village. Sneaking out, for him, would have been obscenely hard.

Tim sighed and started to run a hand through his hair, only to pause when he felt the fabric of his hat. He grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets instead.

For just a moment, he considered telling his friend. Of anyone in the village, he was the best person to tell. He knew of the fae.

But then what? Was there any reason to tell him? It wasn’t like Bernard could fix the fact that he was no longer human. He would be stressing out his friend and for what? It wouldn’t help anyone, all it would do was hurt his friend.

So, he trained his eyes on the ground and said, “I didn’t think of that. I won’t disappear like that again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt 2

All fae-n and games masterlist

[thesnakerootwoods]

Year 3. October. The Thing hasn't eaten in 5 moons...

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Events Chasingcreek has greencough

Stoattuft's bee stings are all healed!

Forestkit died of kittencough. SnakerootClan mourns the loss of his potential as they lay him to rest.

Milkweedpaw, Logpaw, Ospreypaw, Birdpaw, Kestrelpaw, Whisperpaw, and Mistlepaw have all been made apprentices. Their solo patrols are due to begin today.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

New Sprites I'm... not listing all those names again haha Bonus Fernpaw! She's 12 moons old now!

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Thoughts Serpentstar wants to know Whisperpaw better

Icyeye wants to spend time alone

Chaffinchflip eavesdrops on Milkweedpaw

Mallowskip sneaks out of camp

Chasingcreek watches Lightningkit closely

Boulderheart wards off Lightningkit's begging to learn battle moves

Foghowl craves rabbit

Meadowfur eavesdrops on Birdpaw

Sunpatch worries about Birdpaw

Stoattuft spars with some Clanmates

Fernpaw wonders if she could talk her way out of her morning duties...

Milkweedpaw saves the softest bedding for himself

Logpaw wonders if Meadowfur was a good apprentice

Ospreypaw explains the importance of respecting elders to Lightningkit and Blossomkit

Birdpaw feels gloomy

Kestrelpaw and Larkpaw crave rabbit

Whisperpaw eavesdrops on Logpaw

Mistlepaw wants to know Stoattuft better

Lightningkit's scared after having a nightmare

Blossomkit wants to be really big one day

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Patrols

Kestrelpaw The forest is silent. Kestrelpaw moves carefully through the bushes, eyes darting. The quiet makes his fur stand on end. It's dark when the patrol finds him, alive but bleeding badly. When asked, all he remembers is flashing teeth the color of snow and blinding pain.

Larkpaw There's something really wrong with the forest. Larkpaw knows this, of course, has always known it, but this is the first time he's experienced it. He arrives home a few hours later, deeply unsettled but unable to pinpoint why.

Mistlepaw A flash of movement catches Mistlepaw's eye. She darts over, but whatever had moved is gone. She breathes a sigh of relief and moves on.

Birdpaw Birdpaw's mind is filled with questions. Why do the solo patrols? Why not just leave the forest? Why live under the paws of the Thing? He comes home safe, questions burning the tip of his tongue.

Ospreypaw Ospreypaw's paws scrabble against the ground. Something has her by the scruff of her neck, and she can't get free, she can't escape, oh StarClan is this the end- She's dragged over rocks and stones and through bushes, and she finally manages to dig her claws into a branch and tear away. She doesn't look back as she races back to camp, not wanting to chance being caught again. Ospreypaw has no idea what had grabbed her, and quite frankly, she hopes she'll never learn.

Logpaw Logpaw sees pawprints in the mud. He's so caught up in examining them- he's never seen anything like them!- that he doesn't see the blow coming. He screams as he feels his leg twist and snap, and he wriggles away from whatever had attacked him and races for home.

Milkweedpaw The forest is friendly and uninviting. Milkweedpaw shudders as he skirts around the edges of a clearing, and he heads home as soon as he can.

Whisperpaw Whisperpaw's walk, as nervous about it as she was, is... oddly pleasant. She even manages to catch a mouse!

Mallowskip & Fernpaw Mallowskip and Fernpaw make their way to a troop of mushrooms, eager to get more prey for the Clan. They can hear rats squeaking among the fungi. They crouch and slowly stalk towards them and pounce! Spores burst into a cloud and coat their fur, and the pair makes sure to wash off on their way back.

Stoattuft & Meadowfur Meadowfur spots pawprints in the mud and decides to follow them. He finds a trespassing rogue, and he and Stoattuft demand they leave immediately. Intimidated, the rogue gives in and leaves without a fight.

Chaffinchflip The mullein towers impressively over the other plants, and it's a good time to harvest it. Chaffinchflip could swear that there's usually some here, but there isn't today.

[a-tale-of-legends]

A refresher on Amber's pokemon!

Haru - currently a Combusken! Leader of the team, and is rather serious. He takes his role as leader seriously, but also tries to not get his seriousness in the way of bonding with his team. I might just rework him a bit now that Esme feels like an actual character now.

Erise - currently a kirlia. A shy pokemon that wishes to prove that she's just as powerful as those in her family. Is very emotionally aware and intelligent, but is often too afraid to give advice out of fear of saying something wrong ( mood girl)

Gully - Pelipper. An air head that has 0 awareness of things around her.....or that's what she'll have you believe. She knows a lot more than she lets on, and loves to mess with her teammates by saying random shit for a reaction. She cannot seem to take what she dishes out, as Brew's plant facts always leaves he speechless.

Brew - Breloom. Generally quiet and observant,Brew likes to step back and observe situations before jumping in to handle them brutally. Is very blunt, though never seems to be malicious. Loves to share facts about plant life and spores, all of which are utterly horrifying to the listener. He does not know how horrifying it sounds though.

There's two other pokemon,an Aron named Vic and a Breloom named Ziggy. And while I love both dearly, I am waiting to get a good feel on them. That and I might replace Vic if I continue to just not vibe with aron. Basically, Vic doesn't feel like she's part of the team yet and Ziggy is. Honestly going to be an hm user, but I actually love him.

[scintillaywen]

When I was younger, we would host a garden of fungi. They were inescapable, and ever present—somehow, they were affecting me, even as a child. The old birch in the front yard was the ledge atop which I’d stand, observing the gardens we had unknowingly cultivated. And I like to think that when we moved, the mushrooms followed us—they spewed their spores into the breeze, carrying their presence into our new and green yard.

Perhaps, in a way, the fungi are my caretakers. The way their spores defy dimension—how those black circles cling to the windows, evading all attempts to remove them. Maybe they are eyes, watching me mature over the years.

They sprang into our yard like little pests. We called the ancient tree stump in the front mushroom city, the way we could almost see creatures darting about from the safety of the fungi’s umbrellas.

The other day I was on a walk and saw a rotting mushroom, hidden in the tree. Its almost-fur was dark as ash—a single tap, and it fell to the floor. how alien, I chuckled to myself.

I think that if I was on that walk today, like clockwork, I’d say—the way the sun above scintillated effusively, pouring its light into tiny aureate pools. The way it glimmered, encapsulating the failed cap of the mushroom—like clockwork.

Like the golden gears that tune time. Those cogs which glint in the night—how they never fail to make the belfry chime on the hour, every hour. maybe it’s all just clockwork.

How the gills beneath the fungi’s umbrella are like the paths it makes me follow in my day to day life. The gills like the aisles I find myself wandering in stores, my eyes fixed to every mushroom-themed product. how we’re just a system of clockwork, tying each other together.

Isn’t it so alien, to be a creature not plant nor animal? Isn’t it defiant, to spread your spores? Like that rotting mushroom, emerging from that tree. And on that walk, I’d whisper, open your wings. The mushroom’s cap was bent—it was imperfect. I wonder if it ever did get to unfurl its wings, fulfilling the clockwork system of spreading one’s spores. I wonder whose window the spores will cling to. I wonder what it’s like to be an alien.

The next time I leave I know the fungi will not follow. The breeze can only take a spore so far, and the gales will not reach me. I do not know where the next golden cogs will lie, and I do not know if those dimension-defying spores will decorate my windows again. But if I do meet them again, I’d ask, what are you? And they’d only tick in response.