#tillandsia reply

[genshinnrambles]

i might be insane but did anyone notice in capitano's fatui introduction it said "the first of the eleven fatui harbingers"? i haven't gone through the story in detail yet i mught be hallucinating 💀

you did not hallucinate! it is even more evidence pointing towards the veracity of a theory that Pierro, as the director, is in fact "Number 0" of the Harbingers. The biggest in-game hint towards this before the Natlan AQ was the Salsa world quest series in Fontaine.

[papasbaseball]

Primo x Reader (Tillandsia Bulbosa: Chapter 2)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Primo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Pregnancy by plant, the social politics of being pregnant, sexual degradation, monster fucking.

Summary: The Reader continues to experience the consequences of the plant impregnation.

Word Count: 2,468 (work total: 4,906)

Notes: Back by popular demand... 2 years later

AO3 Link, Prev Ch: Tumblr, AO3

The first month had brought an end to the eggs shifting. For that, you were glad. There was not a single ghoul left that had not stuck its cock in you by the end of the second week. It couldn’t be helped as the abbess had denied your request for medical leave. Your stomach hadn’t changed visibly and the pregnancy test in the clinic had come back negative. You wondered how that was possible as you scrubbed the floors, trying to steady your frame so your hips didn’t move with the rest of your body. It never worked. That’s how you had become so thoroughly acquainted with all of the ghouls that would have you. The nauseating pleasure of the eggs rolling and shifting within you would simmer and steam with every step throughout the day, leaving you desperate for something to scratch the itch. You had tried a couple of the siblings, but it wasn’t the same as watching bony and clawed hands wrap around your stomach just so your cunt could be stretched and gaped for their pleasure. Your cheeks heated red as whichever mate of the evening showed the ghouls lounging on nearby mats in the den how ill-suited your body was to handle their cock. The laughs rang in your ears like metal scraping on stone. It felt good, if bittersweet to be rid of that shame as the eggs grew larger and ceased their constant shifting.

The second month the eggs had doubled in size, noticeably swelling your belly. You had begged the abbess for leave again, but when the pregnancy test had come back negative for the second time she had advised you to lay off the extra rolls during dinner with a disapproving once over. You ground your teeth thinking about that as you scrubbed the black and white checkered tiles of the entry way. The weight of your belly pulled your back with it, causing an ache that you had to stop every few minutes to stretch. 3 months. He said that it would be 3 months. If it was even 3 days more, you weren’t sure that you could handle it.

“You’re leaking.”

You had to swipe away a sweat-thick strand of hair from your eyes to see that Sister Amelia was standing over you. Looking to the bucket, you picked it up. Nothing dripped from the bottom and a quick rotation in the sunlight that streamed in through the foyer window revealed no cracks.

“You are leaking,” Sister Amelia repeated. Setting the bucket down with a slosh, you looked up to see her finger swishing across her chest.

“What?” you replied. Your eyes dropped to your own chest to find two wet spots, blacker than the faded black of your well-worn habit. There was one on each breast that rested on the new swell of your belly. Looking to the floor, three barely cloudy teardrops dotted one of the black tiles you had just scrubbed.

The ache of need from the eggs in the early days felt preferable to this. At least you could try and pretend like nothing was wrong only to slake the savage thirst after chores and mass. Here, everyone saw and you hadn’t even felt it thanks to the cramping backache. You sighed, letting the brush fall to the now dirty floor, one hand massaging the stabbing, the other trying to prevent a new ache from forming between your brows. “Can I please go change clothes and see the doctor?” you said, unable to keep the mounting frustration out of your voice.

“Sister,” Amelia started, “I…” The sounds of other brushes scrubbing at the grand tiled entrance filled her silence. “You know the abbess could come through at any minute. Can’t you just go to the bathroom and shove some toilet paper in there?”

Your eyes raised to meet hers again. “Shove some toilet paper in there?” She bit her lip, eyes narrowing in hopefulness. “Did you just-“ You stopped yourself before you could say something that would earn you lashings in one of the cardinals’ offices.

“I’m taking my break,” you said, gathering up your skirt.

Sister Amelia protested, but after the front door shut behind you, it didn’t matter. You were going to take your break. Whether you would be back after 15 minutes depended on how long it would take to find and kill him.

Papa Primo, sweet, meek, and mild gardener of the Ministry, had not sent for you after you had been impregnated. The only contact you’d had with him was when the Ministry doctor had summoned you down the day after the incident and said that they had needed to put you on some new vitamins on account of some health issue or another. The last blood work you had was 4 months prior, so you found it hard to believe that they were just now getting around to addressing a folic acid and iron deficiency. Forced meds, that was it.

On a few occasions— at least twice after testing negative and being denied leave— you had gone to the main greenhouse searching for the asshole at least half responsible for your growing problems. The office door was always shut and locked, a sign taped to the bubbled glass reading “Out of Office”. None of the gardening ghouls could tell you where he went, but a few of them had been happy to oblige in fucking some of the need that had built up in you the first time you had walked over.

Now, your gait had become an angry waddle as you held the swell of your stomach, no longer able to walk normally as you had the first time. Rough white rocks crunched underneath your sized-up shoes as you marched toward the greenhouse.

“If he’s not there,” you said, “I’ll wait until that son of a bitch comes in the next morning. He’ll have to show up eventually.”

You picked up some hedge shears that had been left lying against the outside entrance before you went in. Maybe if you got lucky, he’d hold still enough so you could cut his dick off.

“Primo!” you shouted when you stepped into the humidity. “Papa Primo, you coward!”

The office had been locked as usual, that same stupid sign taped inside the door. You considered smashing the glass, but it wouldn’t do you any good. The second plan came to you with little thought. You weaved through the rows of thick luscious plants. Surely there’d be a garden ghoul in here somewhere. With the help of the hedge shears, maybe you could even get them to talk and tell the truth.

Somehow you had ended up back in the rare plant room. The thudding in your chest beat a deafening tempo in your ears as that spiraling plant sprawled before you. In truth, you had been scared to return here. The reasons you gave had always varied — the door probably being locked, Papa Primo was out of office so why would he be in there, seeing ghouls moving within — but they had never been the truth. The truth lay in your dreams. Winding vines holding you taut, being pierced again by the thick ovipositor until your stomach bulged with hundreds of eggs, the entire ministry having crowded into the foggy humidity of the greenhouse. They gawked and speculated about how profitable you could be, Sister Imperator taking particular note of the black market price of the thousands of plants that resided within you. You’d go to protest but nothing came from your throat, your vocal cords paralyzed.

It would be so easy to just snip it now. It couldn’t haunt you in your dreams if it was dead, right? You looked at the shears, slightly rusted from rain, wondering how sharp they were and if it would take multiple snips.

“A little dove that makes quite the ruckus. I should call you a rooster instead.”

He was wearing his formal robes this time, black and shiny red satin accented with silver sequined unholy crosses that looked dull under the filtered light. A rumble of thunder called outside and light plinks of rain tapped on the glass of the barreled ceiling. Papa Primo remained unfazed by it, staring at you with those mismatched eyes behind a crisp coat of face paint.

Everything you had wanted to say fought and slaughtered in your brain, the result being nothing but blood pounding on your eardrums.

“It does not matter if you cut it, cara,” he said. “What is done is done.”

“I’d feel better,” you bit.

“If you stub your toe, does it make you feel better to cut off your foot?”

It didn’t even make any sense. He was a doddering old fool. What you had seen in him that day in your hormonal haze was gone. “Why?” It was the only question that came to mind.

He took a step forward, but you held the shears up, closed and pointed toward him. “Are you going to stand like that forever?” he asked.

That he had the right of. You had no clue what you were doing. The plan had been half-cocked and rage-baked from the beginning. Tiny wisps of purple smoke circled and wove between his fingers, hands still at his side. He could bind you and snap your neck before the rusted silver would even touch the satin of his robes. The tears came suddenly, heating and constricting your throat. You dropped the shears.

“What about me?” you creaked.

He stepped forward, the gravel shushing beneath his dress shoes until he reached you. The glove on your shoulder was gentle as it turned you, his body bracing yours as his hands rounded the swell of your belly, carefully lifting the weight. The stabbing pain ceased all at once.

“Breathe.” His low voice complemented with the now constant static of the rain pouring outside. Soft loving swipes of his thumbs on your stomach had you leaning into him, the tears flowing still. “I have been absent more than I would like. It has not been easy dealing with the changes within the Ministry. They rely too much on the wisdom of old men who should be retired.”

You stayed like that, melded together in the humidity and disgrace of Satan, for what felt like an hour. So many things you wanted to say, spit, yell, but the only thing that you were able to respond with was, “I’m leaking.”

“Your milk has come in then. Not much use for the seedlings, but I’m sure the Ministry milk bank will be glad for a donation.”

A gloved hand came up and scooped your left breast out of the wrap dress — it was the only thing that fit you anymore — brushing lightly over the leaking and red nipple. A soft gasp escaped your mouth as he rolled thumb and forefinger, sending a fine stream spraying across the emerald foliage. He hummed, repeating the motion, earning him another squirt. “You will want to try expressing to relieve some of the pain,” he said. “Too much milk can become quite painful.”

Another gloved hand came up and pulled dress and bra down, exposing your right breast. He repeated the earlier motion, this time several streams spraying the nearby plants. The relief caused your knees to buckle, bringing you and Papa Primo to the ground. It did not falter him from continuing the expression.

“You were made for this,” he whispered against your ear. “You want to cum just from this, yes?”

You grabbed handfuls of the rocky gravel, pushing the pain into your palms. Anything to get a grip on how right his words felt and how that shame was tightening your core. “No,” you said.

His laugh was threadbare and worn. “I have overheard my ghouls in their work. They are fiendish gossips and love a good brag to pass the time. They call you a plant slut.” He let go of your right breast, quickly hiking up the skirt of your habit. Fingers slid the elastic hem of your panties to the side, hooking themselves with wet ease into your dripping pussy. “’Oh, how she moans. No human cock is good enough for her. The eggs make her more desperate than a ghoul in heat.’ Such wicked beasts.”

The wet squelch and pressure as he massaged into you earned him a squeal as you shut your eyes. He removed his fingers in short order, wiping them down the back of your thigh.

“You want it,” he said. “You want it.”

“I never-“ You stopped yourself. It would be a lie to say you never wanted it. What did you want? Was it the dreams that scared you? The abbess? How alone you had been through all of it? “You weren’t there,” you said.

He sighed. “I was not. It was my mistake little dove.” He pulled you up to your knees. “But I am here now, and that is the best that I can do.” His hand rounded the swell of your belly. “We will see this through together.”

Kisses against the tender skin of your neck turned into scrapes of teeth. Your knees parted once more and he slipped a hand past the waistband of your underwear, teasing the sensitive and engorged bundle of nerves.

Gasps turned into pants and soon the words came across your tongue as you walked closer to the precipice. “I want this. I want-“ his circles slowed. “I want to be your breeder, Papa.”

He sunk his fingers into you, grinding and crushing your clit against his gloved palm. “Then it will be so,” he said, pushing you over the edge of bliss. “You will have all of them and more. I will feed your hunger to breed well. These are only a taste, little dove. I have exotic plants from Madagascar that put a woman into a state of ecstasy for two weeks straight. A tickler that is a parasite, feeding off of arousal and adrenaline pleasuring you when it is least convenient so it can drink your fear. There are so many thing that we can do to you, anything your twisted heart desires.” Your walls clamped hard around his fingers at his promises, the pleasure and belonging wrapping you in their ribbons a compliment to his arms.

As you came down, you felt a new ache. Something was wrong, and you told Papa Primo so.

“Early, but not impossible, given your sexual appetite,” he said. He pushed his fingers deeper. There was the tickle of his gloves against your cervix, causing your walls to clench. A trickle of something ran down your inner thigh to the ground. He removed his hand, pulling you to your feet. “We must hurry. They are coming.”

[artykyn]

which one is your favorite houseplant? If you dont have a favorite, what is the newest?:D

Ah dang how dare you make me pick.... uuuhhh....

I can’t pick one so instead imma just show you my two favorite windowsills in full

This one’s the bathroom windowsill and as you can see it’s mostly just spider plants that have been allowed to send out a lot of runners with plenty of pups. There’s also a couple of Tillandsia. I’ve recently been thinking about taking some pups to plant in hanging baskets and starting a green wall in my study, since they are so easy to grow.

And this is my bedroom windowsill! I bought a large fern last year which has since become two large and one medium fern. There’s also the snake plant. The medium fern is supposed to be a gift for a friend, so it will leave someday, but I’ll surely propagate more.

Overall I’d say the plants in these windowsills (spider plants, snake plant, ferns, tillandsia) would be my favorites because they are the easiest to take care of and look the lushest :)

(my newest plants are a few tiny succulents which I plan to use in tiny terrariums)

[ashyblondwaves]

could you make the gym prompt a part 2 at visions place please 😁

The Playlist Chapter 1: Breathless

Wanda stared up at the high rise apartment building in front of her, scanning the lit windows to see if she could figure out which apartment was Vision’s. Referring to her phone, she saw the apartment number was 3C. Third apartment, third floor. Her eyes immediately went to a glowing window on the third floor There was a healthy golden pothos plant dangling in the open space, leaves bright and green, the stems spilling over the pot in long flowing lines. Did axe murderers keep lush plants?

Seems innocent enough, Wanda thought. She was still having a little trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that she’d agreed to going to this guy’s house after talking to him for less than five minutes. But there was something about him. Something she felt at her core that drew her to him. Saying no just wasn't an option.

She entered the lobby, searching for the buzzer for 3C and gaving it a long press. With hope, he'd heard it and she wouldn't have to press it again. It was hard enough to even press it once.

"Hello?" a voice came over the .

"H-Hi, it-it's Wanda" she stammered. "From the gym."

Did you really even need to clarify that, Wanda? Probably not.

"Hi Wanda. Come on up," Vision replied, his voice crackling through the speaker. With a loud buzz, the glass door unlocked and Wanda let herself inside.

Too late to go back now.

The third floor had a slight odor, like someone had burnt popcorn a few days prior and the aroma still hung lightly in the air, but apartment three stood out. It was adorned with a subtle copper pipe wreath with a few Tillandsias affixed to the bottom. Wanda smiled to herself at the decoration. Axe murderers definitely didn't deck out their front doors with air plants.

Wanda knocked on the door and heard shuffling almost instantly. The door swung open to reveal Vision, cleaned up and no longer sweaty. He'd traded his soaked tank top for a simple white button down, rolled at the sleeves and gray dress pants. At least she hadn't overdressed when she chose the flowing, white sundress from her closet. In fact, it seemed to match Vision perfectly.

Vision stepped to the side. "Please, come in," he said cheerfully.

As Wanda walked in she noticed the change in smell from the hallway immediately. This smell was familiar. It smelled like home.

"I hope you haven't eaten yet, I just finished making Paprikash," Vision explained, motioning to the kitchen. "I could fix you a bowl, if you'd like?"

"I'd love some," Wanda said, immediately realizing her mistake. What if he put something in her food? She followed Vision into the kitchen, watching his every move, just to be sure. As he handed her the bowl with a pure smile on his face, she felt bad for thinking the worst of him.

He fixed a bowl for himself and lead Wanda out of the kitchen and into a comfortable living room. In the middle of the room, there was a gray sectional complete with a chaise lounge on the right hand side and two matching recliners on either side.

"Please," Vision said, motioning to the living room. "Make yourself at home on the couch or one of the recliners. Unless you'd prefer to sit at the dining room table?"

"Oh no, no," Wanda said, plopping down on the chaise section of the couch. "This is just fine."

Vision took a spot on the recliner across from her, immediately digging into his bowl of paprikash, making sure to finish chewing before he spoke.

"So, what kind of music are you into?" he asked, taking another bite. He went silent to chew and continued. "I wasn't kidding about making you a playlist tonight."

Wanda smiled, almost touched by how seemingly genuine Vision's intentions seemed to be. "I'll listen to anything, really. But in terms of a workout? It needs to be upbeat and get me moving."

"So for workout purposes, would it be safe to assume you prefer something like EDM remixes, where the beats per minute almost always fall in time with movement?" Vision asked, finishing off his bowl of paprikash.

"I'd say that's a fair assessment," Wanda nodded. "Dance music almost always gets the blood flowing."

"Perfect, then we'll start there." Vision said, standing up just as Wanda finished her food. "Can I take your bowl for you?"

Wanda handed him her empty bowl and settled back into the chaise, another smile sneaking up on her as Vision disappeared into the kitchen to take care of the dishes. She took a minute to look around his apartment. Behind her was a simple dining room, with a black dining set, shining like it'd just been dusted. Next to it was the bedroom, the room was dark but she could just make out the dark colored sheets on an impeccably made bed but couldn't see anything else.

The room next to it seemed to be a home office or studio of some kind and is where Vision disappeared to after finishing the dishes. He came back out a few minutes later with a Macbook and a Bluetooth speaker in his hands.

"Alright," he started, this time sitting on the couch and setting the computer down between him and Wanda while the speaker went on the coffee table.

"So I figured we'd start by going through some other workout playlists to see if anything jumps out at you," Vision explained, pulling up Spotify on his computer. "You're okay with listening to music with me?"

"Of course." She nodded eagerly, almost too eager. She slowed her movements and kept her nod in check. "That's what I'm here for."

Vision smiled and started typing.

"Let's try this Workout Remixes playlist first," he said, clicking on the shuffle button as the first song started to play. Wanda listened and immediately heard Sam Smith's voice.

"What's this one?" Wanda asked. "I like it."

"It's called Promises. Looks like it's by Calvin Harris and features Sam Smith," Vision read. "Want me to add it?"

"Yes," Wanda said. "Please."

"There," Vision said, clicking along on his trackpad. "You've got the first song on your new playlist."

They spent the next hour listening to bits of songs and adding the ones Wanda liked to the playlist, dancing and laughing as the beats filled their chests. Any fear about Vision's true intentions abandoned long ago.

"Would you mind if I took a look at your current playlist?" Vision asked. "I can probably recommend a few songs for you based on that."

Wanda nodded and pulled up her playlist, handing her phone over to Vision who looked at it closely and intently. He was really into this.

"You were listening to Bassnectar earlier?" he asked. "It's still paused, that's why I ask. Do you like them?"

"Yeah, they're not bad," Wanda said. "They have some good songs."

"Have you heard Breathless? If not, I highly recommend it."

"Put it on," Wanda said, waiting to hear the music begin. As the beat filled the air she suddenly noticed how close they moved next to each other throughout the last hour. The computer was now on the coffee table with the speaker and Wanda sat cross legged on the chaise, mere inches from Vision who sat with one leg firmly planted under him.

I'm still restless... Leave me breathless...

"What do you think?"

Wanda nodded her approval and continued to listen to the lyrics, a haunting reverberating voice pumped out of Vision's speaker and seemed to stir something deep inside of her.

In all my dreams I'm still restless Why do you always leave me breathless

They were face to face, looking at each other, the space between them closed long ago. She looked closely at Vision, his blue eyes seemed to be searching her face for an invitation to her lips. Silently and lightly, she nodded, letting Vision know it was ok to kiss her and he moved in quickly, pressing a quick and almost chaste kiss to her lips.

"I hope there's more than that," Wanda breathed, shocked at her sudden boldness, but it was the truth. There was more brewing between them than a quick peck on the lips. "I mean-"

She was cut off by Vision's lips on hers again, this time lingering in feather light kisses that then trailed across her cheek. His hands moved to cup her face and pull her closer and she let him, scooting closer until their legs were interlocked and they were almost tangled in each other.

Vision inched his nose across Wanda's cheek, pressing another delicate kiss where the tip of his nose had been.

"I don't want you to think this is the only reason I invited you here," Vision whispered, dropping another kiss to Wanda's waiting lips.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," Wanda said earnestly, accepting yet another kiss from Vision. "I've had my eyes on you for weeks."

"I know," Vision sighed, finally pressing his lips firmly to Wanda's and she eagerly opened her mouth to let Vision's tongue inside. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, exploring her mouth and letting Wanda explore his and soon, they'd completely forgotten about the playlist, letting the Bassnectar song end and another begin.

This beat was just as haunting, a deep echoing hum and a song of craving someone. Wanda felt the hum in her chest and pulled Vision down on top of her. She allowed his body to slip between her legs as his hips instinctively rolled, a light moan escaping his lips in response to the movement. Wanda felt the bulge at the front of Vision's pants pressing against her panties, teasing her middle. She lifted her hips, searching for his erection, desperate for more contact.

They spent many minutes pressed together, Vision grinding his hips against Wanda's middle while both stayed fully clothed. It didn't seem to be going any further than that, and Wanda didn't mind. She liked the teasing, the build of pressure and wetness at her front staying present as Vision moved off of her and took her in his arms, dropping light kisses against her neck and down her collarbone.

"I hope this is okay," Vision said between kisses. "Lying here with me."

"More than okay," Wanda whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair, guiding his head down to kiss her where she wanted him to, right at the curve of her neck and shoulder. His kisses were warm and inviting, leaving trails of heat and wetness in their wake. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't ever want him to stop.

Life is funny, she thought. Earlier today I was staring at him, only wondering what he might sound like, how he might hold me. Now I'm in his arms, accepting his kisses and feeling all of him.

Wanda was snapped out of her reverie when Vision suddenly pulled away, turning to his computer and typing something in. A new song started, one that felt like it was picked just for her.

We stayed up all night Talking to each other, whispers under covers

Vision returned to the chaise, pulling Wanda close again, pressing his forehead to hers and speaking in a low, rumbling voice.

"I'm not normally this forward," he admitted, kissing the tip of her nose. "But there's something about you that I feel deep in my veins."

Wanda wouldn't say out loud that she felt it too. A buzz when she looked at him. Some kind of deep connection that she couldn't pinpoint but enjoyed nonetheless. Like they'd been here before. Together, again and again.

She pulled herself closer, nuzzling her head into his neck, pressing her own kisses to the pulse point that was frantically pumping.

"Calm down," she said soothingly. "I'm here. You have me."

It's the last thing she remembered before sleep pulled her under. She woke hours later, music still playing, the room fully dark and Vision curled up asleep next to her on the chaise. They could have easily gone to the bedroom, but it didn't feel right yet. It held implications of things neither of them were ready to admit just yet, so they stayed on the couch, tangled in each other and keeping one another warm.

Vision opened one eye, squinting as though he were making sure Wanda was still there.

"Hi," he said, his voice full of sleep.

"Hi," Wanda returned. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a long time," Vision admitted. "Sorry I fell asleep on you."

"Well if we're being honest, I fell asleep on you, too," Wanda smiled. "And I'm not sorry that I did."

They both laughed, Vision's hand reaching out to run the tips of his fingers down Wanda's cheek. Blue eyes locked on Wanda's"

"When can I see you again?" he finally asked.

"I'll be at the gym tomorrow around five," Wanda said, propping herself up on her elbow. "Can you make it there then? Maybe we can grab dinner afterward?"

Vision nodded. "I'll be there." He pressed a sneaky kiss to her lips. "We'll work out together, too."

"Sounds like a date," Wanda said, returning Vision's kiss.

A date? Wanda thought. Why did I just say that?

Luckily, Vision chuckled and said, "It's a date."

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 8

Since the previous chapter was rather dark, I wanted to get chapter 8 out as quickly as possible.  Fortunately, after the absolute struggle I had with the previous chapter, this one just rolled right along.

There are absolutely no trigger warnings in this chapter that I can think of.

My quarters turned out to be pleasantly close to Tyche’s, yet still far enough away that we each had privacy. As much as I loved my sister, being next door neighbors would have been exceedingly awkward. The Miys very carefully showed me how to program the door for waking and sleeping intervals, as well as how to set the lock code to the door.  It then ensured that the room was keyed to my biometrics, but how I could not say; there was no scanner or printing that I saw.  All of this took place with my sister humming a deceptively perky tune (it was from an archaic television show, and I recall the lyrics simply being several iterations of the word “Doom”).

Once the door opened, all I could do was gasp.  Where Tyche’s quarters had been covered in blacks, greys, and hints of maroon or plum, my quarters were light, almost airy.  The walls were tinted a pale purple, the furniture was a light grey.   Plants abounded, filling the room with life.  As with Tyche’s quarters, there was no cooking area, but a small dispenser that I had learned provided food and beverage when one desired privacy.  I had been told while I was still in medical that several communal eating areas had been arranged around the ship, but no one was required to be there unless they felt social.

Once I surveyed the space, one that clearly had been designed for me, I turned and gaped at my sister.

“Yes!” she crowed in victory. “I knew you would like it!” She turned to the Miys, who was producing a low growl. “You were so skeptical about the plants.  And the purple.”

“To be fair – “ was that whining I was hearing? “you are the one who explained that she cannot see certain wavelengths of light. You cannot truly expect me to remember which ‘colors’ correspond to which wavelengths.  And the plants you chose are mostly parasitic!  We have extensive documentation showing how Terrans perceive parasitic life!”

“But I also tried to explain that Sophia loves air plants.”

“Tillandsia,” I corrected her. “They do need more than air to survive.”

She waved her hand at me, “Same thing, Word Nerd.”  

I grinned at the old nickname before I turned to the Miys.  As I started to open my mouth to explain, it made the same gesture my sister had just performed. “Yes, Enhancer, we can hear you. They clean the air, make it fresher.  I have no noses, Enhancer and Tyche.  The air quality on the ship is within parameters, and I cannot detect trace impurities as sensitively as you can.  I have already begun adding plants to other common areas of the ship and sense approval from most of the Terrans who have begun to notice or previously requested such a thing.”

It’s statement made me realize that the only other humans I had seen, even when travelling from medical to Tyche’s quarters, were my sister and Simon. “Why haven’t I seen any other Terrans?” I asked, voicing the question for my sister’s sake so she could follow the conversation.

“This is a less populated area of the Ark,” the Miys explained.  “I have been made aware that some Terrans become psychically distressed when they encounter too many unknown people at once.  While the Ark is not large enough for each Terran to have their own quarters, as we had not planned on this contingency, there is currently sufficient space to allow some to have individual quarters.  Additionally, there are quite a large percentage of Terrans who prefer to live with others as a way of coping with such drastic change.  However, there are exactly four Terrans who I am desperately avoiding forcing to share living space with anyone, and I have been granted permission from my home planet to make such a decision since it is such a small percentage of the population of the ship.”

I looked at Tyche and quirked an eyebrow briefly. “You, me, Sam, and Derek,” she explained. “You haven’t met Sam and Derek yet, but they are both autistic and need space to be away from people when they get overloaded.  Great guys.  Sam is teaching me sign language, and I make him clothes that don’t aggravate his touch aversion.  I don’t know much about Derek, but he loves Mac and takes incredibly good care of him when I can’t, and that’s really all I need to know to like him.”

“Okay,” I nodded, “that makes sense. And I get you. Why…?” I trailed off as I pointed to myself.

Instead of Tyche, the Miys responded. “We need you to teach, Enhancer, and lead to a smaller degree.  I also know from observation of you and your personal history that you perform both of these functions at peak efficiency when you have a space designated in which you do neither.  Allowing you individual quarters ensures that, when your daily responsibilities are done, you will not have to – people? That is not a verb, Tyche – if you do not desire to do so.”

My sister giggled, and it dawned on me that she had intentionally thought that term as hard as possible at the Miys in an effort to teach it one of her favored slang words. I sighed, and explained, “It’s vernacular.  Many people use that word as an abbreviated way of saying ‘interact with people’.  And I get it, but it really isn’t necessary to give me my own quarters if there isn’t enough space….”

“Em-pathy,” my sister interrupted in a singsong voice. “Really, Soph, it’s okay.  Right at ten thousand people, seven thousand rooms.”

The Miys continued with a nod. “And currently, 1437 are unoccupied.  Most Terrans have voluntarily decided to share living space.  In some cases, three or four individuals are sharing quarters.”

Oh.  They were not kidding about that, apparently. I did some quick math in my head. “When you said a large percentage, I didn’t realize you meant over 85%.”

The Miys spread its inner hands, a gesture I had learned was a shrug. “Terrans packbond.  There is, however, a – caveat? That is in interesting word – to having individual living space.”

Here we go. All good things come with strings.

“I request permission to put a video feed in your quarters, like the one in Tyche’s quarters.”

A memory from earlier came floating back to me. “Not many humans on board that strongly atypical.” It was not by any means a question. Tyche was the most unique person I had ever met in my life.

“Precisely. We have four: two have declined video relay installation in their quarters….”

“And the fourth has not yet consented or declined,” I murmured. “Four. Tyche, Sam, Derek, and me.  I hadn’t consented or declined because you hadn’t asked yet.”

“Clarity,” it buzzed with a smug tone. “You do not have to consent, but we would like to learn more about Terrans who fall outside several definitions of ‘normal’ for Terran parameters.”

“And how do I fall into that category?” I asked. “I want to be sure that I would actually be contributing before I make a decision.”

Surprisingly, Tyche answered. "Seriously? I know we've had this conversation, mon soeur. We grew up with the same mother; we had roughly the same childhoods. We've both been through hell on Earth, even Before. I came out of that childhood fueled by rage and spite, but you? Somehow all that shit we went through? You came out kinder and way more hopeful. If hope could actually move mountains, you'd have flattened Everest with ease. We all – all of us survivors – have some kind of PTSD. You and I had it beforehand....but....it never stopped us. You've spun yours into something to grow from, not to recover from. You don't just say people can do better, be better; you believe it. You believe it, and you help them how you can, and they become better." “Also,” the Miys picked up after a brief silence. “You rate in the 99th percentile for Memory of those on board. In this, you are only slightly below Derek and on a level very close to Sam.  I would like to study the effects of this on Terrans, and neither Sam nor Derek have consented to video feed.  Additionally, you are able to keep it all incredibly organized, which is astounding. You store the information, but can also extrapolate it and draw both conclusions and inferences at a rate I struggle to keep up with.”

“You think in fractals,” Tyche translated unnecessarily.

“I’ll grant you the memory,” I replied, only half focused on my words as I tried to recover from the impassioned scolding my sister had given me. “But there is nothing special about surviving everything.  I was just… stubborn.”

Tyche laughed as the Miys pointed at her. “Incorrect, Enhancer. Tyche is what you call ‘just stubborn’.”

I allowed a chuckle at that. “Well, okay, I’m not as stubborn as her – “

Tyche cut me off. “No, Soph. I’m literally ‘just stubborn’,” she clarified with air quotes before pointing at herself. “Tenacity, Will, Persistence, and Passion.  As in, too tenacious not to survive when it all went to hell, too willful to not change my surroundings, too persistent to give up when I know I am right, and too passionate about my goals to see any alternatives.”

At that, I gaped before laughing so hard I could not breathe and falling to the ground from aching ribs. “Oh – my – gosh,” I gasped. “You really are just ten pounds of spite in a five-pound container!  That’s too funny! Oh wow.”

She made an indignant face, but I knew her heart was not in it. “Hey, clearly my spite is my most redeeming quality!  I was literally chosen as part of the best of the Human Race because I am so spiteful, thankyouverymuch.” She managed to sniff in mock-offense before dissolving into laughter.

The Miys just stared at us on the floor before making a shrug-gesture. “She is correct, Enhancer. What makes Terrans so interesting to the rest of the known Galaxy is your tendency to survive anything through sheer determination not to die in the direst circumstances. Tyche is an incredible example of this, despite her past before your world ended. Additionally, she is quite passionate about a number of Terran subjects that we have been very ignorant of.  It will be valuable when establishing a social system on the future colony.  I have already corrected a number of anomalies in passengers that I otherwise would not have understood if not for her.”

We both stopped at that information. Tyche looked just as confused as I was, which was not comforting. “What,” she drawled, “are you talking about?”

Oh, this did not sound good.

“Terran Jordan,” the Miys explained in a tone that showed it clearly knew it was in a precarious situation. “Jordan stated she is female, but her body is clearly male, so we fixed that on a genetic level.”

Oh. Fuck.  The Miys ‘fixed’ what sounded like a clearly transgender person.  Gender rights and sexual preference equality were two of Tyche’s most ardent causes.  However, fixing it on a ‘genetic level’ did not sound promising, and I could hear a feral-sounding growl coming from the petite form next to me. Fuck.

The Miys quickly reacted to the rage radiating from Tyche, and it became evident that she was thinking at it rather strongly. “Oh, Worlds, no. No. Not in that way. That is barbaric! Did Terrans actually do that? No!  Jordan consented to genetic testing, and I determined that Jordan’s genetics indicated she was clearly female, but a chromosomal abnormality made her body male! This was causing severe dysphoria in Jordan, so I offered to do genetic correction on the chromosomal abnormality so that her body is female along with the rest of her! She is quite pleased with the result. You, Tyche, told me that dysphoria is bad!  I simply wanted to ensure that Jordan was healthy.”

Oh. Huh. Not what I expected.

Clearly, not what Tyche was expecting either, as she promptly deflated. “I really thought you meant you made her think she was male. I’m sorry. I was about to kill this body.” She gestured at its form.

The Miys crouched and gently placed its upper-right hand on her shoulder. “I would have allowed it had I done what you suspected.  But no, Jordan is quite happy now that she is completely female. Additionally, we have opened testing to all on the ship for such genetic correction.  While we can only do genetic surgery on 3 persons at a time, due to the length of the procedure and the additional recovery, we already have 312 who have agreed to the procedure in the future.

“That’s maybe half of what you can expect,” I advised, trying to ignore the look of constipated rage on my sister’s face.  Sometimes she took a few minutes to squash poorly-placed anger. “The rest are probably waiting to see how this goes.  Our planet does not have a great track record for treating people fairly, especially if you are female, gender dysphoric, not attracted to the opposite gender, or not a member of a very specific major world religion.”

“Unfortunately, I have been educated in this,” it indicated my sister, who was perking up a little now. “However, I am of a race that has no gender, does not have sex, and therefore does not care.” It nodded firmly at this.

I sputtered. “Wait. No gender, and does not have sex. Back up to that. What?” I had never really asked, because there was so much more going on that I wanted to get caught up with.

“We are what Terrans would call mycogenetic, I believe.”

Myco.. mycology. “You’re mushrooms?” I exclaimed.

“Only as much as you are monkeys.”

Touché. “Okay, but you evolved from life similar to Terran fungus?”

The Miys nodded.

I knew then that I could  never enjoy a mushroom pizza again.

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[superflash-crypt]

Earth Angel Pt.1 (Cisco Ramon/Reader)

Summary:  Meta-humans are difficult people. They’re either good, or bad. Most of them are bad and use their power for evil. However, Y/N is neither. She’s just a seemingly normal girl that wants nothing to do with the meta-human world. She just wants to continue her life as the quiet girl that works at a flower shop. Is that too much to ask?

Tags: Reader is female/woman, Barry and Cisco still have a good relationship in this, There will be sex happening later on in the story.

Word Count: 1764

Ao3

Being a meta was hard. Being a meta and hiding it from everyone you know is harder. But, you tried to make it work. Get up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, go to sleep. Keep your powers on the down low and everything will be fine. It was a daily routine.“Y/N, did you bring those pots in like I asked?” You jumped at the sound of Julie’s voice, your boss. She had her hands on her hips and a playful smirk on her lips.“Uhm, I’m working on it.” You quickly answered, embarrassed to have gotten caught spacing.“Cm'on girl, can’t have you spacing out all the time. You gotta focus on work, hon.” Giving her a smile, you nodded as you grabbed a hold of the large pots, bringing them from the front of the shop to inside, placing them near the window by the door.

“I know we’re about to close up and what not, but I gotta continue cleaning and putting up new displays. Will you please go to the store for me?” Julie asked, placing a piece of paper with a list on it in your hand. You nodded quickly and turned back towards the door, only to stop when you began to read the list.“Julie…is this your grocery list?” You let out a snicker, giving the woman a questioning look. She only shrugged with a lopsided smile.“I don’t have the time to get myself food every now and then.” Rolling your eyes, you continued your way out of the shop.

You work at a small flower shop called Vascular in Central City, it’s quite a popular flower shop, since it’s the only one in Central City that not only sells flowers at low prices, but also sells house plants like succulents and tillandsias. The wind brushed playfully against your skin as you walked down the street, reading over the list multiple times so you wouldn’t forget anything. It was quite late at night, so of course you didn’t expect anyone to be out. However, much to your dismay, you couldn’t help but notice sounds of distress and what seemed to be fighting. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and slight worry as you followed the sounds, your curiosity getting the best of you. What unfolded into your vision only surprised you.

There he was, the Flash. It seemed that he was fighting a meta, and this meta had incredible strength. So much strength, he was actually throwing cars at Flash. You let out a sharp gasp as you witnessed the speedster get thrown across the parking lot of a supermarket, the meta angrily picking up a car and making his way towards Flash. You could help him. The little voice in your mind spoke up, and it was right. You could help the Flash. But, what if you weren’t strong enough? What if all you did was make the situation worse? What if you ended up making the Flash get even more hurt than he was trying to help?“Watch out!” You were pulled out of your trance by a voice in which belonged to none other than the Flash. A rather beaten up vehicle was hurdling towards you, and the Flash had just now noticed your presence as he made his way to you.

However, before he could even save you, before the car could even come in contact with you, thick vines and tree bark burst from the ground. You threw your hands up in defense, the vines and tree bark creating a protective shield around you that stopped the car from touching you, and stopped the Flash from saving you. The confusion on both the meta and the Flash’s face made you nervous.“I, uh..” You stood there in front of the two, swallowing a thick lump of saliva down your throat.“What? So weak you had to bring a friend to help you, Flash? Pathetic!” The meta spat insults at him, making you frown. How dare he speak that way to him! The Flash was doing everything in his power to help the people of Central City and this idiot who was affected by the particle accelerator explosion just uses his own power for evil? That’s pathetic!

“I-I’m not with him! I’m uh, just going to the store.” You quickly defended yourself, only making yourself sound more awkward.“I got a grocery list dude, I just need to get food.” You stated, glancing over at the Flash. It didn’t take him too long to figure out you were distracting the meta for him. While he wasn’t paying attention, the Flash came at the meta hard, with a quick punch to the face the meta was out cold. You let a relieved sigh escape yourself and could feel the muscles you didn’t notice tensing relax.“You’re a meta-human, right?” You hadn’t noticed the speedster next you as the police quickly pulled up, which you didn’t question as to how they knew the Flash and the meta were here.“Uhm, awh geez. Yeah, please don’t tell anyone! Well, I mean you probably wouldn’t since that’d be giving away your own identity but still, I just don’t want anyone-” You were cut off but the Flash’s laughter, making you quickly become quiet as you realized you were blabbing.“Sorry.” You apologized sheepishly.

“Look, this is going to sound weird but, uh. Come with me, okay?” The Flash asked you, only making you turn your head in confusion.“ Come with you?” You started, but before you could even ask why he had grabbed you and suddenly you weren’t in the parking lot of a supermarket, but in a lab.“Oh, gosh. I’m gonna be sick.” You whimpered, holding your stomach with an unpleasant expression.“Sorry, one of the side affects of being fast.” The Flash apologized, placing a hand on your back and rubbing it slightly.“Barry! You’re alright! Aannnddd, who’s this?” The unfamiliar voice startled you, making you jump slightly. The voice came from a man, a rather attractive one at that. He had long hair and a nice smile, something you noticed right off the bat.“Cisco, hey. So this is uh, I didn’t get her name. But she’s a meta-human.” The man who was named Cisco, as well as another woman took a defensive stand, worry obviously plastered on their face.“No, it’s fine! She’s not evil! Trust me! She actually helped me out against the meta tonight.”

You frowned and furrowed your eyebrows, of course he goes and tells the first two people he sees that you’re a meta. You hadn’t paid attention to the fact that Cisco referred to the Flash as a different name, only when he took the mask off of his face and stuck out his hand in a friendly manner.“Hey, I’m Barry Allen. Nice to meet you, these are my teammates Cisco and Caitlyn. Welcome to our lab.” It finally dawned on you that not only were you meeting the Flash behind the mask, you were also in none other than STAR labs, the very place that gave you the powers that you did.“Oh, uh. Y/N.” You said in awe as you shook Barry’s hand.

“Was I just kidnapped? Why am I here?” You asked with confusion, furrowing your eyebrows. Caitlyn gave Barry a surprised and worried look.“Barry! You just took her? Didn’t even ask or anything?” She scolded, sort of like a mother who caught her child stealing.“Woah, no! I asked! I just, didn’t really give her much time to answer.” Caitlyn only rolled her eyes.“ So, why is she here Barry?” Cisco spoke up, making you nod in agreement as you crossed your arms. Your boss was going to be soooooo mad.“Look, I saw what sort of powers she had and I thought she would be a addition to the team.” He admitted, however you quickly stepped in.“Woah, woah. Addition to the team? Look, uh, Barry. I appreciate you saving me I guess, but I don’t,” you paused, a sad sigh escaping your lips.“ I don’t use to powers for anything, I at least try not to. What you saw was just reflex, I protected myself. Nothing more. I’m not fit to do the whole superhero thing.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, the three of them realizing how serious you were.

“What kind of powers do you have?” Caitlyn asked gently, and you sighed once more.“Plant manipulation, I guess?” You held out your hand, a bud growing from it blooming into a small daisy. Picking it from your hand with a small wince, you handed it to Caitlyn with a lopsided smile.“One of my tricks I can do.” You said as she took it with awe.“That is SO awesome!” Cisco’s sudden outburst of how ‘awesome’ your powers were made your cheeks warm with a blush.“Obviously, we gotta come up with a name for her.” Barry made a face.“Really?” Cisco crossed his arms with a smile.“Duh, I mean. Sure she doesn’t wanna join us or be known by society that she’s a meta, but still she’s got some awesome powers. Deserves an awesome name.”

Barry rolled his eyes as he turned back to you.“Look, it’s a lot to take in. But I really think you’d do good for the city, and I think it might be good for you too. If you don’t wanna fight people, fine. But, if you’d like we could help you gain more control over your powers? Help you learn your limits, y'know.” The offer sounded rather nice, and you were going to take it up. But then again, what if it ended up bad? What if you accidentally hurt someone?“I’ll think about it..” You replied, biting the inside of your cheek. Barry gave a gentle smile and nodded.“How about,” Cisco cut in, pausing to make a drum roll sound.“Wallflower! No, wait. Evergreen is a good one too.” You giggled at his determination to come up with a name for you.“No, wait. I have one!” Caitlyn placed her hands on her hips.“Is this going to go on all night Cisco?” She asked with a chuckle, the long-haired man shaking his head.“No, no. I seriously got a good one. How about, Earth Angel!” You raised an eyebrow.“Earth Angel? Why that one?” You asked in confusion, it seemed kind of specific.

“'Cause, anyone that represents the Earth could be considered an angel. Plus you’re pretty.”

[douglaswelch]

How do you bring your garden indoors? Share/Reply!

Air plant (Tillandsia) and Dia de Los Muertos art bring the garden inside for Fall and Winter

[genshinnrambles]

Hi, why do you want to archive your posts?

Hi anon!

the ones I archived were just really old, tbh, and stuff I wasn't proud of anymore/my views on the topic and the canon had changed so much since then that I didn't want them up anymore.

[genshinnrambles]

hiii I hope its okay to reply to this because I love everything you said so much and want people to see it!!

to add onto the point about kazuha keeping everyone at arm's length, though I know Wanderer's character arc has the most overt Shinji Ikari references in the game, I do see Kazuha as emblematic of the "hedgehog's dilemma" aspect of him (which apparently is also a Schopenhauer reference on Eva's part). Shinji is a profoundly lonely person who copes with his fear of love for and attachment to others in far more unhealthy ways than Kazuha does, but it's the same struggle. From Neon Genesis Evangelion 1.11: You Are (Not) Alone:

Ritsuko Akagi: You're right, though...Shinji doesn't seem like the sort of person who makes friends easily. Ever heard of the Hedgehog's Dilemma? Misato Katsuragi: Hedgehogs? Those things with all the spikes? Ritsuko Akagi: Hedgehogs have a hard time sharing warmth with other hedgehogs. The closer they get, the more they end up hurting each other. People are also like that. I think some part of Shinji is afraid of that pain, and that makes him timid.

It also doesn't help that the Japanese word used here for hedgehog is a homophone for his C2, "Yamaarashi Tailwind" (山嵐). Ritsuko uses "yamaarashi" (山荒), more accurately "porcupine" than hedgehog, and Kazuha's C2 is referring to a mountain storm in the sense of weather, but according to this website at least the reason that porcupines are called "yamaarashi" is because of their appetite? one small little animal ravaging a mountain like a storm, which is also very befitting for Kazuha as the "insignificant" mortal who stopped the legendary slash of a deity's blade of will.

and yes 1000x to your point about Kazuha and Ei's love for the world being the same. it is heavy, mournful, like you said, like dark clouds or a leaf bending under the weight of rainwater, and so painfully human. surface level interpretations of characters are unavoidable in a fandom as large as this and with as many characters in this game alone to choose from, but it is interesting to notice how many parts of Kazuha get ignored instead of brought in conversation with his ideal of freedom.

Character Analysis: Kazuha’s Melancholy [2.3]

**Post title is from the book Vera’s Melancholy, which is available to read in-game.

an unplanned post taking a critical look at Kazuha’s personality and its contradictions.

as a fair warning: there will be minor spoilers for Gorou and Beidou’s hangout events. no leaks tho. also, spoilers for the archon quest up to 2.1

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