#tidal wave mushroom

[alex-sweetoblivion]

How Long Do Tidal Wave Mushrooms Last? Duration & Timeline

Tidal wave mushroom is one of the most talked-about psychedelic strains due to its high potency and unique effects. At Deadhead Chemist, we often get asked about how long the effects of this powerful mushroom actually last. Understanding the duration can help both beginners and experienced users prepare better and enjoy a more controlled experience. From the onset of effects to the peak and eventual comedown, each stage of the tidal wave mushroom journey comes with its own distinct impact on the mind and body. In this article, we’ll break down the typical timeline of effects, factors that influence duration, and what users should expect before and after consumption.

Onset Time for Tidal Wave Mushroom Effects

After consuming tidal wave mushroom, the onset of effects typically begins within 20 to 60 minutes. This timeframe may vary depending on how the mushroom is ingested—raw, brewed in tea, or combined with food. The faster the digestion, the quicker the onset. Many users describe a gradual shift in perception, colors becoming more vivid, and a light body buzz setting in during this period. The sudden change in mental clarity may also be accompanied by a sense of euphoria or mild anxiety, especially for first-time users. It's important to stay relaxed and in a safe environment as the effects start to build.

Understanding the Peak of Psychedelic Experience

The peak effects of tidal wave mushroom typically occur between 1.5 to 3 hours after ingestion. This is when the experience becomes most intense, often involving deep introspection, visual hallucinations, time distortion, and a heightened sense of connectivity. The potency of tidal wave mushroom means this peak can feel overwhelming for some users, especially without proper preparation. It's crucial to remain hydrated and avoid external stressors during this period. The peak experience is what many psychonauts seek, as it’s often described as insightful, emotional, and transformational. Having a trusted sitter nearby can help ensure a safe and positive experience.

How Long Does the Entire Trip Usually Last?

The total duration of a trip from tidal wave mushroom is typically between 4 to 6 hours. This depends on several factors including dose, user tolerance, and individual metabolism. While the peak phase lasts a couple of hours, the come-down period can linger, slowly bringing the user back to baseline. By the 6-hour mark, most effects have worn off, though a light afterglow might persist. Users often feel mentally and physically tired, but also deeply reflective. This period is ideal for journaling thoughts or meditating, as it allows users to integrate their experience while still feeling a sense of emotional openness.

Factors That Influence Duration of Effects

Several variables affect how long tidal wave mushroom effects last. These include body weight, digestive speed, food intake, mindset, and the environment in which the mushrooms are consumed. For instance, taking the mushrooms on an empty stomach often leads to a quicker onset and potentially more intense trip. Similarly, stress or anxiety can heighten certain sensations, stretching the perceived duration of the experience. It’s also important to consider dosage—larger amounts result in longer and more profound effects. At Deadhead Chemist, we always advise starting with a low dose to gauge personal response and build a comfortable relationship with the mushroom.

Afterglow: What Happens After the Trip Ends?

Once the primary effects of tidal wave mushroom wear off, users often report a period known as the “afterglow.” This phase can last several hours and, in some cases, extend into the next day. During this time, individuals may feel a heightened sense of peace, clarity, and emotional sensitivity. Although visual distortions are gone, there may still be a subtle shift in perception. Physically, the body begins to regain energy, though a sense of fatigue is common. It’s advisable to get rest, drink water, and avoid overstimulation to allow the mind and body to reset effectively.

How to Prepare for a Tidal Wave Experience?

Preparation plays a key role in how a tidal wave mushroom trip unfolds. Eating light meals beforehand, setting intentions, and creating a peaceful environment can all help make the journey smoother. Since the trip can last several hours, it’s best to clear your schedule and avoid any external obligations. Choose a quiet space, gather comfortable items like blankets and pillows, and keep some water nearby. At Deadhead Chemist, we believe mindful preparation helps users get the most from their experience, both during the trip and afterward in terms of personal growth and emotional insights.

When Should You Seek Help or Medical Advice?

Though tidal wave mushroom is generally safe when used responsibly, it’s essential to be aware of signs that may require attention. If the user experiences extreme confusion, panic attacks, or physical symptoms like a rapid heartbeat that doesn’t subside, it may be necessary to seek medical help. Bad trips are rare but can happen, especially when mushrooms are taken in poor settings or combined with other substances. Always use mushrooms in a safe space, preferably with a trusted friend nearby. While most effects wear off naturally within hours, safety should always remain a top priority.

Conclusion

Tidal wave mushroom provides a potent and transformative psychedelic experience that unfolds over several carefully defined stages—from onset to peak, and finally, the gentle afterglow. Understanding how long the experience lasts and the factors that influence it can help users plan their journey and navigate it with confidence. Deadhead Chemist is dedicated to empowering informed and responsible usage by sharing accurate, user-focused insights. Whether you're a curious beginner or a seasoned explorer, knowing the timeline of effects and how to prepare properly makes a significant difference in your overall experience. As always, respect the mushroom and the journey it invites.

[shafaamushrooms]

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[newjerseypsilocybinstore]

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[shroomsshroom]

Tidal Wave Magic Mushrooms in Shrooms911

Introducing Tidal Wave Magic Mushrooms, a unique Psilocybe Cubensis strain created in 2020 by mycologist Doma and the renowned Magic Myco Team. This innovative strain, a hybrid of the popular B+ and Penis Envy varieties, is celebrated for its extraordinary range of mesmerizing effects.

[cellobuster]

The following audio was commissioned by the NILE Corporation on Ceres for use in a corporate training program. The audio was never used, and the artist was threatened with legal action should he ever attempt to contact NILE offices in an official or unofficial capacity again.

(Let it never be said I don't keep my promises)

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Unscripted Bracket — Round 2-1

Propaganda

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

she is a lich she is an umbrella she is a pyromaniac. she is trans and she becomes a servant to the Raven Queen. she sees her brother for the first time in a decade and she makes fun of him for dating the grim reaper. she plays the violin and she adores her family and she loves her husband

Sammy Sinclair, the Scat King of Ganymede (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...):

Don't be crass, it's scat as in jazz. Formerly known as the Sax King of Ganymede, before the loss of his prized saxophone in a debt to the Space Mafia necessitated a rebrand

Pansexual, pangalactic, personal pan pizza

4'10"; but it's not the size that matters, it's what you do with it

As a saxophonist, is good with mouth and fingers and can hold breath for a VERY long time

Say hi to your mom/dad/aunt for me

[jayhyunglover]

Dry? me I desert him

Pairing: Sylus x reader

Tags: cowgirl , pussydrunk Sylus , overstimulation, sub! Sylus (he's a mess)

A/N: was listening to Work by Rihana and it made me think of him

Masterlist

"One more” you cooed to the writhing man below you . 

You didn't know how long it's been since you were riding Sylus , the heat bezwen you two was unbearable,  thighs growing sticky with his cum that kept oozing from where you two were still connected 

“K-kitten” a broken , fucked out whimper left his parted lips , eyes screwed shut at the way you were literally milking him. 

He looked so pretty , bulky arms wrapped snugly around your waist, a pretty strawberry pink blush settled on his cheeks , eyes hazy with lust , a sheen of sweat covering his muscular body . 

So beautiful,  depraved , undone all because of you and your unforgiving hips. 

“You can give me one more yeah?” Anchoring yourself on his shoulders to continue your mean little cadence , hips moving up and down,  up and down , drawing the prettiest gasp from his parted lips. 

His grip tightened on your hips , it was nearly painful if his cock didn't feel so good , mushroom tip massaging all your sweetest spots in a way that made your eyes roll back in your skull. 

It felt so good , painfully so but gods you couldn't stop not now or ever. Not even when you felt his cock twitch inside you , whines growing higher in pitch and intensity. 

“Sweetie” his hips were bucking up against yours now , fucking up inside you in small jerky movements to reach his peak , making your head drop in the crook of his neck . Bodies moving in sync . 

It was so messy, the mix of cum and slick , the overwhelming smell of sex , the sound of skin against skin that reverberated through your skull. 

“I_am coming shh-iiit” he panted against your mouth before capturing your lips in an heated kiss , lips moving lazily against each other's while he pumped you full of his seed for the nth time of the night. His orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave making him cry out against your mouth , sensitive shaft still twitching with every slow draw of your clamping walls .

He thought He reached heaven even if the woman looking down was anything but temptation and sin , perched on top of him, you were such a vision, a sight he will never get tired admiring.

“You didn't think we were down did you?” You whispered before licking the shell of his ear . Your voice pulling him out of his lustful daze

“you said one round for every anniversary you missed” you reminded him before pushing his back on the plush mattress. Adjusting your position to grind on him properly

“This is only the eighth” another harsh, slow grind that had him gasping for air “there's still 15 ones left Mr Quin” 

Your smile was so viscous and predatory, all fangs and sin and despite his exhaustion Sylus never felt more turned on . 

“Anything you want Sweetie” he breathed out , voice hoarse from exhaustion and arousal.

If his Queen wanted 15 rounds more, who was he to deny her ? 

“Anything I want?” You chuckled,  hands resting against his chest to give yourself more leverage , strands of hair sticking to your face from the heat

“Anything” he repeated,  eyes bleary and unfocused,  the flush of his face traveled down to his neck and chest painting the most erotic sight you've seen in your entire life . 

The powerful leader of Onychinus,  spread out beneath you in a fucked out mess of pleasure all because of your touch.

Beautiful and all yours to ravage .

The thought sent a thrill through you that made you giddy and you were sure you won't stop only at 23 rounds .

"You're in for a long night, Mr Qin"  

@jinwoosbabyboo @chibichibi-mia @poisonf0rest @yourlocalcatscammer

[lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs]

DCA venom au

Chapter 1

The one where the reader goes out hiking and stargazing, but things take an unexpected turn.

alien DCA x human Reader (qpr)

Warnings: pessimistic thoughts, thoughts of death(not graphic), thoughts of war(not graphic), description of sickness

This would be just another day of your life. Would be, if you didn't take a few days off to go hiking in the nearest forest. What were you even doing here? The ground is hard, the campfire smells not as good as people say it does, the forest creatures make all sorts of noises.

And the freaking s'more is just a sticky, sugary disappointment.

You lick your fingers, trying to clean up the sticky goo of the burned marshmallow. Your fingers taste gross. You abandon all hope and go for some baby wipes to deal with it.

A good question. What were you doing out here, so far away from civilization and your favorite small grocery shop that has this wild variety of instant noodles? You wouldn't even consider going away from your work, but this coworker wouldn't stop nagging you. Something about "very good thing happening", or how did she say it? Doesn't matter. She shouldn't be so much into those fancy cards.

A small breath left your lips, the night air was crisp and fresh, making your body shiver a bit. You move a bit closer to the campfire.

This whole trip was a big waste of time, the comfortable routine you've carved for yourself was ruined, and now you also had dirt under your nails.

The night wind blew softly, making the trees and bushes rustle. Almost sounds like a whisper. Or steps of an animal. Spooky.

You wondered for a moment if there were wild animals here. That'd be a dumb way to die: perish only because you didn't check if there were bears or wolves or something else in this area. Not that you'd care if you died. Nor would anyone really. You felt bad for the poor soul that would find your b-

You bite on the fried mushroom and burn your tongue. You hiss, snapping from the dark thoughts and covering your mouth with a hand as if it's gonna help you somehow. You really should learn to wait sometimes.

Fried sausage. Fried potatoes. Fried mushrooms. S'mores. What else do you remember hearing other people eat during camping? … You couldn't remember. Oh well. You were full anyway.

The night sky was clear. Some white dots were visible even when you were sitting next to the campfire. After some thinking, you decided that you don't want to skip the stargazing and threw a blanket over yourself.

You settled on the ground a few meters from the fire. Air felt so much colder already.

But the stars? Oh, they were beautiful.

Your eyes had gazed upon this vast nothingness filled with sparks of light. The human frame so tiny and insignificant in comparison. And yet it felt like this nothingness wanted to crash down at you like a tidal wave. To pull you in, to swallow you whole, to have you amongst its tiny dots.

It was breathtaking, to say the least.

You were alone. So, so alone. All these stars were alone. Millions and billions years away from each other. From you. You were far, far away from everyone. So far away for so long.

You wondered if you still had your light.

Another soft sigh left your lips and the world went dark for a few long seconds.

You tried so, so hard to not let your thoughts drift off and spiral. You were alone and there were a lot of ways to do what the voices in your head would tell you. You didn't want to ruin the day of some random ranger.

You opened your eyes, meeting the stars above once more.

Wait, was it just you or one of the stars became brighter? And bigger too. What's-

In a blink of an eye, the flash brightened the sky before disappearing just as fast. The air shook and made you jump when a loud BANG exploded somewhere to your side.

The war had started, you thought. A missile must've misfired and fallen in the forest. In a few moments you'll be covered by the energy wave, or whatever it's called, and you'll be gone. And no one will know you were here and became one of the victims. You closed your eyes once again, waiting for the worst.

One second. Two. … Minute. Two minutes…

Why is it taking so long?

You opened your eyes when you smelled the scent of burned wood.

A faint, barely visible trail of smoke followed from the depths of the woods. You didn't notice how your body moved on its own. You got up to your feet and went where the smoke was coming from.

Earth was soft and a bit creaky under your shoes. Little pebbles clanked softly with each step you took. You went deeper into the woods, led only by the faint smell of burning. Then, you saw it. The tops of the trees ahead were broken. The black tainted the torn branches. You followed the trail of damaged trees until you stumbled upon….a rock.

You blinked.

The rock was neatly sitting in the crevice of its own making. Some grass around it still had some splashes of red in it, you quickly made your way to step on those sparks. You didn't want animals to die in the fire. The ground was warm, you could feel it even through your shoes. In the dim moonlight you could see clouds of steam come off the rock.

That's when it hit you.

That wasn't a missile. That was a meteor. Or a comet. Or an asteroid. You never learned the difference. It didn't matter anyway. There was a freaking space rock right in front of you. A real rock, right from the skies above. As real as can be.

You could hold in a little squeal of happiness that left your throat.

You quickly stepped closer to this big space rock to take a closer look. You couldn't see it too well, since you failed in being logical and didn't bring a flashlight or your phone. The moon light was all you had.

It had a bunch of holes in it, kinda reminded you of a sponge. You hesitated before touching it, just to see what kind of texture-

You, once again, failed as a human being, as you touched the scolding hot space rock that burned grass around it. Good job.

But you still were able to feel some of it. It was weirdly smooth, like pebbles or glass shards that were left in a moving water for long. You weren't sure what it meant, but guess smooth is better than sharp. You'd be burned and cut. How fun it would be...

....

So, you saw something fall from the sky, but it's not like there's any danger or anything. Go back to the camp and enjoy the last few hours of your trip, right?

Wrong.

You wanted that space rock.

That space rock was calling for your weird fascination with cool rocks. And how cool would that be to have a literal space rock in your collection.

There's only one small problem.

This rock is half your size.

You stood there, looking this boulder over and trying to come up with a way to get it home so it could be a part of your collection. You clearly couldn't bring the whole thing, but maybe you'd be able to bring a piece?..

Oh, what if it's one of these cool rocks that people smash open to reveal pretty crystals inside. Geode, was it? You'd probably die from happiness if that was what it was.

You grabbed the nearest branch that looked sturdy enough. First time it hit the rock with a quiet knock. You hit harder. Nothing happens. You hit once again. The branch breaks, almost hitting you in the face.

Okay, so a stick won't work. Maybe another rock will?

You quickly find a rather big rock with sharp edges. You hold it securely with both hands as you take a stand.

Breathe in. Smash. Again, breathe in. Smash. Once more, breathe in. SMASH.

The boulder cracked loudly and you dropped your tool to pry it open, cursing the hot surface. But there were no crystals inside.

It looked as if you tore a sponge apart, the holes you saw on the surface went all the way through the rock. It was black on the inside. Wait, is it wet?-

....

You woke up when the sun was right above your head, effectively blinding you. You sat up, looking around. You were right where you were stargazing at night. All your stuff just as you left it, you even had your blanket on.

What a weird dream. But no time to dwell on it, you didn't like wasting time out here. Touching grass and watching nature wasn't enough to solve all your problems. You need your job and the comfort of your routine.

Stuffing some leftover fried mushrooms and potatoes in yourself as a breakfast, you quickly gather up your belongings and clean up after yourself. The trip back is long, but uneventful, except some dizziness you felt closer to the end. But you never moved so much before, so you figured that was as normal as seeing dark circles when you stand up a bit too quickly.

Surely, when you make it home, take a shower and have a good 18 hour long nap in your bed you'll be fine. And the management would be so happy to know that one of their nameless employees that took a week off would return only after a couple of days.

….

You make it home in a cold sweat. Your limbs feel like they're made out of overcooked pasta, you're dizzy as if you took a few turns of riding on a rollercoaster and you feel so sick that you think all your inner workings want to escape your body and leave you behind as an empty shell. The work can wait, looks like you've got severe food poisoning.

Damn mushrooms, you knew you shouldn't have trusted them.

The next day comes and goes in a haze. Time doesn't exist as you fall asleep and wake up a dozen times.

You tried eating, but anything that entered your mouth was pushed out by your raging stomach, so you were hanging only on water and bread. You cursed the mushrooms you ate on your trip for a hundredth time as you stood on your knees in front of the toilet bowl.

You'll never accept any food from the coworker that is into taro cards.

You're barely able to stand up to wash your face and mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitter taste. You splash some cold water on your face and then-

"How long is it gonna last?"

You jumped, startled by the sudden voice that came seemingly out of nowhere. You glanced around, paranoid that someone was in the bathroom with you, but you were alone.

"We can't eat, I'm hungry."

You jumped again as a slightly different voice whined in your ear. You were still alone. There was a long pause, before you sighed and whispered. "I guess I finally lost it. I have hallucinations now..."

"Hey, we aren't hallucinations! How rude." The voice calls.

"That's what a hallucination would say." You answer into nothingness. Well, if you were loosing it, might as well make the best of it.

Your left hand moves on its own and lightly slaps you on the face.

"Real enough?" A slightly huskier voice chuckles in your head. Pain feels real. That freaks you out a bit.

"That's my hand." You protest.

"Our hand." Both voices respond.

"Am I possessed by the ghosts of the soviets?"

No answer. For an alarmingly long time.

"No." Was all they answered.

"What are you then?" You ask, wondering what your hallucinations are gonna say.

"We're yours. And you're ours."

You were too sick to deal with it, so you went to lay down in bed and continue being miserable.

"What does it even mean?" You grunt, plopping yourself onto the bed.

"That means you're stuck with us, human." The higher voice called out suspiciously cheerfully.

You just groan. "Great, I'm having food poisoning and a bad trip."

The voice in your head grumbles, as if offended that you didn't stop thinking it was just a hallucination.

"That's not actually food poisoning." The huskier one says. "That might be because of us."

"Yup, your body doesn't want us here!"

"Too bad we can't leave."

"It can't get rid of us! We're bound now!"

You groaned once again, their chirping just making your headache worse. "Can you shut up for a minute?"

"Oh, do you still feel sick?" The chirpier voice asks.

You grunt in response, rubbing your eyes.

"Hm, maybe we can help with it…"

....

You don't remember anything after that.

The only thing you knew when you opened your eyes was that your body wasn't trying to get rid of your organs anymore. When you came back into this world and checked your phone, you noticed that a day was erased from your memory. It takes you some time to process everything, but you guessed that everything was just a weird fever dream.

You turn in your bed and take the phone in other hand to scroll through the news, just to see what you missed while fighting with the sickness. You thought how odd it was that you started hearing voices. It's been a long time since you had auditory hallucinations.

Anyway, you're just glad it's over now-

"Do you feel better now?" The voice in your head calls out cheerfully.

You drop the phone on your face.

[goodeapple]

unravel me (aemond x baela x oc)

The dragon must have three heads...

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC) x Baela

warnings : it's a three for all (ffm), breeding, tongue twister, under negotiated/undisclosed kinks

word count : 2,000+

title from "Unravel Me" by Sabrina Claudio

“So good for me, my love.” Baela whispers against her cheek, and her tone is so pretty and praising that it sends Ysilla whining, and she burrows her face into her cousin’s naked shoulder. Soft hands slip over her back, fingertips dancing up the curve of her spine like a snake in the sand. Wisps of Baela’s curls tickle her face, the moonlight strands pecking her with a million tiny kisses. 

A brush of lips at Ysilla’s right shoulder signals the last piece of her puzzle notching into place. 

The sound that builds in Baela’s chest is more that of a rabid beast than a Velaryon Princess. 

“She's mine.” Baela snarls, pure dragon, and yanks Ysilla closer to her.

Their breasts meld, their skin sticky from the summer heat that refuses to break, even though night has fallen and blanketed the scorched earth below. Baela clutches her tighter, rolling Ysilla forward along the thigh squeezed between her legs. Ysilla’s breath hitches, eyes glassy, and she rocks her hips back and forth, grinding her wet cunt along the smooth ridge of it. 

A snicker, mean in sound and careless in its release, is an answer Baela does not want to hear. 

Aemond curls his hand around Ysilla’s ankle and with one good, strong tug, he rips his niece away from the other girl, splaying her out on her belly, her legs suddenly dangling off the side of the bed. Ysilla gasps, startled at the new position. She feels him press up behind her, the linen of his trousers soft and thin. Her arousal starts to soak through the fabric, and she tries not to arch back into the bulge she feels nudging apart her folds.

“Let’s not talk about who this one belongs to, girl,” Aemond brings both of Ysilla’s wrists behind her, securing them with one hand at the dip of her lower back, spacing her feet further apart so she’ll be a bit more stable for what’s to come.

“Because when it’s my cock inside of her, she loses all fucking thought.” 

Baela glares at him with enough hatred to fuel a thousand fires. Ysilla stares, drinking in her cousin’s state as if she is a cool drink. She was made by the Gods themselves, Ysilla swears it. Long, powerful legs that climb to muscled thighs- rider’s thighs before the curvaceous flare of her hips demands devotion. Then, up to a tapered waist before her chest blooms with beautiful, bouncy breasts that Ysilla always seems to find in her mouth. All of her gorgeous, heavenly body wrapped up in smooth, lucious sunloved skin that seems to glow and whisper take me, take me, take me into your den and keep me. It’s one of the many reasons Ysilla asked for her hand, even though her other was already entertwined with Aemond’s. 

Through all of that, the pinched look on her sweetheart face detracts from Ysilla’s happiness. How many times must they go through this? 

“Enough you two, I’m tired of hearing your- nnngh.” Ysilla cuts herself off with a guttural groan. She’s so wet, absolutely dribbling with want from Baela’s sweet touch that Aemond slides inside of her without any resistance. He drags her back and forth off of him, her trapped arms easy for him to loop his own through and puppet master her through their coupling. The bedspread crinkles under their movements and the softness scrapes at her nipples that sends bolts of overstimulation streaking through her tendons. He finds that perfect spot inside of her, as if his cock is a compass determined to find her pleasure, and drives the blunt mushroom head of himself straight into it overandoverand over again.

Ysilla screams, smothering her face into her sheets. She shoots up onto the tips of her toes, her peak washing through her like a tidal wave but Aemond doesn’t pause in his pace, fucking her through it brutally, her walls fluttering weakly at his assault. He’s trying to prove a point, even if it’s at her cervix’s expense. But Ysilla can’t bring herself to mind, her brain a puddle sloshing between her ears. 

“Baeeee-la,” Ysilla slurs. It’s hard to think, to talk, to breathe while Aemond does his best to fuck her stupid. Her paramour looks at her, the venom in her beautiful brown eyes dissipating to make room for tenderness and she sits up straighter, giving over her full attention. 

“Yes beloved?” Aemond growls at the name and Ysilla manages to curve her leg around his calf, stroking up and down the muscled limb. He’s such a boy- never knowing when to share.

“You didn’t… finish earlier…” Ysilla manages to croak out, biting at her lip as Aemond drags himself through her walls in a way that makes her ache. Baela gifts her a small smile, at the ready with a dismissive shake of her head. 

“No, no.” Ysilla answers before she can be told. She twists around, giving her lover a pleading glance. His skin is slick, glistening like his bejeweled eye. Scars and muscle weave a story Ysilla knows every word to, her husband a man just as complicated as he is handsome. Aemond nods, unlacing his arms from hers only to circle one around her hips. He always needs to be touching her. Ysilla slithers up his body, enjoying every ridge and dip along the way. 

“You’re doing so good for me, sweet boy. Taking such good care of me. How I love you so.” Aemond blushes, she can tell from how hot his face feels where he presses it to her neck. Ysilla drops a kiss beneath his ear, stroking the arm around her lovingly. He reaches up to cradle her breast in his hand, and he plucks and pulls at her nipple in a way that has her gushing. 

“Come here, ñuha prūmia." Ysilla lets her eyes fall heavily onto her lonely lover, her voice deep and thickened. It’s constant work, to spread her attention (her admiration, her desire) between her husband and wife. Their hers but not each other’s, not even with all of Ysilla’s begging and pleading. She only pokes them enough when the time is right, careful about toying across their battle lines. 

Baela blinks, unable to tear her stare from the veiny, pale hand swallowing up her wife’s tits. Aemond is so much bigger than both of them, so much stronger, it’s a bit intimidating. Sometimes, when Uncle and Niece get lost in each other, her rage dims into something more… warm. The intimidation into something a lot like yearning. Baela doesn’t entertain that feeling. 

The dragonrider comes back to herself, seeing an expression that’s far past pleading spelled out on Ysilla’s face.

“Now, Baela.” She blushes, a perfect cherry tint to her umber skin and Ysilla is so fucking hungry for her. Baela crawls forward and while Ysilla loves her face as much as the rest of her, the swing of her breasts is hypnotizing. She’s finally close enough, the sweet mint on her breath wafting over Ysilla’s face and the Princess finds her fingers and laces them with hers.

The girls’ lips brush, demure and proper, something barely considered as a kiss. Baela frowns, trying to stomp down her jealousy as Ysilla breaks away to gasp out a cry. Being made to share her wife with a man who she knows to be undeserving of her drives her to madness. Having to witness him bedding her is like salt in a wound and some days, the only thing stopping her from tearing through The One-Eyed Prince with her teeth is the pleading purple eyes of her ābrazȳrys. 

Baela could- no, can make Ysi cum harder, moan sweeter, love deeper than he could ever hope to. Spitefulness bites at her heart, and her voice crawls up her throat, forming into would you like me to leave you two alone? until Ysilla rolls her head forward and lets the longing in her eyes drip over Baela like hot wax. 

“Spread your legs for me, Bae.” Baela sighs happily, her girl’s attention back to where it should be. She settles back on her elbows, butterflying her knees apart and offering herself up on a platter. Who is she to deny her Queen? 

Ysilla dives in, all tongue, lapping her cream with a hunger reserved only for their bedchambers. Baela drops her head back, a ragged gasp ripping from her throat. Her hips swivel off the bed, rising to fuck Ysilla’s eager tongue. She can’t help it, when she reaches up to cup her own breast and rolls the plump weight in her skilled hand. She tangles her fingers in Ysilla’s roots and pulls, slanting her face harder into her soaked cunt.

Aemond moans and it’s such a nice sound, Ysilla will try to have him make it more often. He’s rutting into her, animalistic and fevered, spurred on by the sinful painting his wife and her lover make right before him. Ysilla slips a hand between her legs, caressing her clit in a way that sends her spasming and her husband groaning. She lets her slick pool over her fingers, getting them nice and drenched before tearing away from herself, and sliding them into Baela’s tight hole.

“Ysi!” Baela gasps, hips bucking wildly and if it were just the two of them, Ysilla would climb on top of her and ride. “Ysi, fuck, don’t stop!” 

Driven by nothing more than greed- rocking back into Aemond, pushing her face forward against Baela, Ysilla drowns herself in the scent/feel/taste of them, feral and needy and endlessly ravenous.

“Silli, iksan jāre ribazmoqitta kesīr.” Aemond curses into the back of her neck before he lifts her up, hunching over her back and fucking into her like she’s a ragdoll, like she’s just a hole for him to dump his cum into, like she’s a Dornish slut busy with her Velaryon consort- fuck!

His release takes him by the throat and squeezes. He thrusts deeper, however possible that may be, his spend sloshing from her juicy walls as he burrows into her womb. Aemond collapses onto her back. His heavy breaths at her neck and the weight of him on her is a comfort, keeping her pinned so she doesn’t float away from her body. It keeps her focused too; she still has a job to do. Her jaw aches but she fights through the burn with gusto, her focus unwilling to waiver. 

Aemond’s left hand joins her hold on Baela’s leg, his pale fingers digging into the dark flesh. They’d look so good together, so right. They’d fight before they’d fuck, or maybe both at the same time. Baela’s hand wrapped around Aemond’s narrow neck, choking him out as she bounced on his lap. His hand striking each of her ample cheeks, the buttery globes quaking before he snaked his long fingers to the dripping honeypot purring between her thighs. Ysilla wraps her lips around her cousin’s pretty little pearl and sucks, long lost in the haze of her fantasies, curling her fingers up to press at the spongy spot that undos all of Baela’s ties. 

Baela shouts, back bowing and head flying back, her curls waterfalling off her shoulders. She searches blindly for Ysilla’s wrist, desperately yanking her hand still when she finds it, guiding herself through her own peak and humping her wife’s fist to draw out her tremors. Ysilla flicks her tongue over the wiggling flesh, reveling in the sharp rise of her wailing.

Aemond’s thumb strokes Baela’s quivering calf as his other goes to strum at Ysilla’s button like she’s a harp string. The Princess shudders, finally giving herself over to euphoria, cushioning herself between both halves of her world. 

Baela flexes her toes, her whimpers dying out, deep rattling breaths taking their place. Aemond hums, sated and sound, edging Ysilla up the bed so that they can both curl up and rest. Baela presses the sole of her heel into his forearm to stall his movements, in a way that’s not quite as threatening as it appears tender. He drums his fingers down her leg, before pinching at her ankle. Ysilla watches and smiles, peppering kisses along the silky skin of Baela’s inner thigh. She pulls out her fingers gently, making sure to go nice and slow, letting her feel every inch that pulls out of her. Her wife shivers, crossing her thighs, perhaps suddenly aware of Aemond’s heavy eye getting quite the view of her womanhood.

Ysilla lets herself be selfish, happy that Baela is still lost in the clouds before she turns to her husband. Grinning slyly, she feeds her fingers into Aemond’s mouth, his hungry tongue swirling around them and sucking ravenously. 

Se zaldrīzes ēdruta emagon hāre heads. 

.

.

.

ñuha prūmia  .  my heart

ābrazȳrys  .  wife

iksan jāre ribazmoqitta kesīr  .  I'm going crazy here

se zaldrīzes ēdruta emagon hāre heads  .  the dragon must have three heads

[dragon-in-a-stew]

Hi! It's been about a week since I last posted this fic, but we've been traveling and we just adopted a dog, so not a lot of time to work on it. But yeah, in case you haven't seen it before, it's an alternate ending to book 1 of kotlc when Sophie and Dex get kidnapped.

So this is part 4 of my fic and also I will link the first 3 parts here(pt1), here(pt2), and here(pt3)

now enjoy part 4!

Edaline’s POV

It had been four days since Sophie went missing. 

Four days of Hydrokinetics searching the sea and finding nothing.

Four days with no sign of Sophie or Dex.

Edaline couldn’t help but think the worst.

She had already lost one daughter. She couldn’t lose another, especially after Sophie thought Edaline didn’t love her enough to adopt her.

She and Grady were sitting at the table, which seemed empty without Sophie there. Grady was reading a scroll from the Hydrokinetics, but clearly, their update was unhelpful.

“Still nothing?” Edaline asked, reaching over to grab Grady’s hand. He shook his head and pushed the scroll to the end of the table. Just then a loud knock on their front door rang through the house. Edaline got up, brushing her messy hair out of her face. When she opened the door, they found Councillor Emery and Councillor Oralie holding up two dripping registry pendants. 

“You. . . may want to sit down for this,” Oralie whispered. A solitary tear trailed down her rosy cheek.

“We’ve told the Dizznees to come over, and then we’ll explain what happened,” Emery said. Soon, Kesler, Juline, Edaline, and Grady were sitting on the giant couch in Havenfield’s living room. Emery and Oralie were in the plush armchair across from them, but no one was relaxing.

“Where did you find them?” Grady asked, clutching Sophie’s registry pendant. Edaline noticed it had been cut off, the cord severed in the back. She really hoped that didn’t mean Sophie was. . . . No. Just because their registry pendants weren’t physically on them, didn’t mean Sophie and Dex were dead. Yet.

“One of the Hydrokinetics found these in the bottom of the ocean. And given the evidence of a tidal wave, we think it’s the only plausible explanation. . .” Oralie trailed off, her voice catching. 

“So you’re telling us that our son is dead.” Kesler’s voice was cold, but his breathing was ragged. “At least have the decency to say it!” Edaline could tell he was angry. After all, the council had messed with his life enough. He was Talentless, a bad match, and a father of triplets. And now his son was dead.

 “Yes. Sadly, it seems that young Miss Foster and Mr. Dizznee are no longer with us.”

Grady and Edaline managed to hold it together until the councilors left and the Dizznees went home to grieve. Then Edaline went to Sophie's room and curled up on the bed. Ella was still leaning against the pillows, so Grady handed it to her and lay down with her. After that, Edaline started sobbing. She still had the registry pendant in her hand, and she could faintly feel it making an indent in her palm, but she didn’t care. 

When the sun sunk below the horizon, Grady got up. “Where are you going?” She asked, her throat scratching and dry. 

“I’ll be right back, Eda.”

When he returned, Edaline didn’t have to look to know what was in the mug he handed her. She recognized the scent of slumberberry tea from sixteen years ago when Jolie died. As she drained the contents, her brain whispered one thought: Don’t give up yet.

(eeee I like it! Hope you did too, part 5 is coming soon, hopefully next week)

Some tags because...why not: @myfairkatiecat @alaydabug2, @ham-cheese-toastie @stunning-mess, @lisalovesapplesauce, @mushroom-snake-coding @thoughtlescat @ilov3b00kss0much

[saltysaltdog]

Narinder and his relationship to the bishops. What caused their falling out?

The game tells you everything you need to know... (Spoiler, it was Leshy)

"Hapless Leshy" is how Haro describes them. And that just means he's very unlucky, unfortunate... doomed.

Leshy is the youngest god, the god of Chaos and flux. For a lot of people when they imagine Chaos, they think of something ever changing, a sensory overload that's never consistent and with no repeating patterns. Constant change.

Notably, Narinder doesn't have anything bad to say about him. His dialogue is limited to one line. "Leshy fell before you like a grain of sand before a tidal wave." Considering how verbose Narinder usually is this should strike you as odd. He comments about how happy he is with seeing the others fall, but not Leshy. He even holds himself in check if you do something that really upsets him, like sell out Ratau (cough cough) but he can't bring himself to demean leshy in the same way, nor celebrate at all.

He should be a natural ally to Narinder, who wanted change. And yet he's not.

"He was unalike the rest of his kin. While others dealt with flux; chaos, famine, pestilence, war. Things in which their constancy must transpose. And yet he was the inevitable; the obstinate and irresistible. The one who waits. Truly peculiar, 'twould then seem, has appetency to invite the novel and the new, break ancient vow and primordial bond alike. Traditions stagnate and appetites augment, nonetheless. Doubt tears faith asunder."

Switching between two states: change, is the natural order of things, Leshy should be inviting chaos, causing it... And there lies the problem.

Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot."

The final lines imply that they sacrificed their power, their growth, to stop Narinder, but what if it wasn't him they were doing it for?

Hear me out. Leshy is the youngest and the weakest, it could be that his powers couldn't handle the rate at which things were changing. If so, then he would only be an obstacle to Narinder. At first it would be fine, but if Leshy didn't get better, if the bishops couldn't cause meaningful change, new things, if change itself was making him sick and "Doubt tears faith asunder": wouldn't it be the one to "break ancient vow and primordial bond alike" be first in line for having the blame cast on them?

We don't have a clear idea on what shenainigains Narinder was up to, but both he and Shamura tell us one thing he was working on.

"The blame hangs heavy 'round my neck. I introduced him to ideas of change..." ".... Death cannot flow backward."

Bringing the dead back to life.

He praises you for doing so in response to one of his quests on his quest line. But that's not to say it's all he was working on.

--

Hang tight, because this bit is up for interpretation:

These guys.

Cute mushroom guys that infect you and try to turn you into a mushroom too, and once you die you can be replanted, again and again and again and again and a- its basically immortality!

They live in Narinder's domain, and yet they are Menticide Mushrooms from Anura given a follower form. They are unnatural, and fiercely hunted when they visit there, so they are not endemic to the area. If Narinder was playing with Nature's laws, turning mushrooms into people, or people into mushrooms, then what's to say he wasn't trying it on anything else?

Like say maybe... plants?

Yes.

Now technically a lot of enemies you fight have plant like features, so many in fact that it's like they were mass produced, existing everywhere except the silk cradle: Shamura's domain of war.

Now these plant creatures fight for the bishops, but that's not to say they are natural. We get normal frogs, insects, fish, etc, but we only get these plant-like worm followers after Leshy turns them into plant like creatures. I don't believe you can randomly happen across them. Perhaps these constructs were originally developed to ensure protection of his siblings, something to prevent them from wasting followers on defending their realms from weaker gods. Or launching assaults. After all, don't many people have a primordial bond to the land they grew up on? Having your favourite tree attack you would suck.

While maybe not a direct result of Narinder, although I wouldn't put it past him to look at a worm and crown and go "oh this'll be funny", I think it's possible that no other plant creature developed consciousness, that Leshy is special, unique, alone.

Perhaps everyone had different ideas on how to help him.

It's up to personal preference the order of events and the degree of sentience the plant enemies have, and thus the mental age of leshy when he became a god, but I'm inclined to think that Narinder still considers Leshy his baby brother, one who would be spared if he could.

(He also made the undead enemies you fight but that's probably obvious.)

But this is all speculation, entities like the gold loving tree exist, so there could be old entities that are plant based kicking around. And the mushrooms could just be from the giant dead god skull being a god of decay. It's hard to know for sure.

It'd be so funny if we could plant that mushroom and grow a giant god. Unlikely though.

-

So Leshy's existence is unprecedented, Chaos itself to many who see him. But why doesn't chaos help him? Narinder speaks about the "unordered beauty of his realm..." and his attack patterns are technically random, but most Bishops speak on their domain a lot.

Leshy doesnt.

"Winds of change blow; dost thou sense it? Around us, the world creaks and turns. Afore, it stood immobile. Motionless centuries grow rust. Now leshy has fallen..."

His domain was stagnant. Leshy is concerned with Narinder being a heretic, and thus you, because your rituals don't align with the old faith's practices. But since those "traditions stagnate", it makes sense why he is the least revered among his siblings, his grasp on the order, what those rituals are supposed to bring, isn't that good. He's probably just doing them because he's supposed to without understanding the greater purpose of them.

"The worm, it is hungry. It feeds. It partakes of our flesh. But that is the price for safety. For that we gladly give it all we have."

His average followers don't even use his name, or maybe they aren't really his followers at all? It's hard to know for sure.

"I recall Leshy. Prior to yourself, he was the last to bargain with me. Adept as he was, he rose quickly to the challenges of Godhood, aided by his siblings. Many were drawn to his chaotic ways"

He was helped out a lot by his siblings, likely to the point he would have died if he was alone.

do Narinder's siblings really think Narinder could have attempted to kill leshy after being perhaps monumental in causing his existence?

Part 2: yep.

Narinder says that Shamura "could never handle the multitudes of a being such as I" (paraphrased. I'm lazy.) Which we are to take as a statement on what he wanted to attempt with his power. With the sins of the flesh update however it might not be that simple.

Sup you slithery bastard.

What's key here is listening to how the other bishops talk about Narinder. Leshy refers to him as a heretic, Heket as a monster they chained below, Shamura as a brother and Narinder.

They used the term red crown for him, but with the notion of it's own independence Kallamar becomes the most relevant.

Kallamar: "Shamura, the Red Crown grows stronger by the day. Already it has succeeded where he has failed before. Leshy has been slain!"

There's a collective understanding of who "he" is. Narinder. But it is interesting that Kallamar never directly uses the term to refer to Narinder, only using pronouns. Isn't the vessel's success Narinder's success? This makes it sound like the red crown is an entity of its own, succeeding where Narinder failed, at least in Kallamar's mind.

It should be noted that Kallamar doesn't refer to you as the red crown during the events of the game. You are the vessel of it. Then when he needs to insult you, critter, beast. Then as a final plea, lamb. Before that however, after he figures out you arent leaving he tries to bargin with the crown directly.

It seems you cannot be stopped by disease or hunger. And he sends you back from death stronger each time. Please know, it was not my idea to cast out the Red Crown! The other Bishops, my siblings, the blame lies with them. Please, I beg you, spare me. Kill Shamura, but do not send me to my death. Do not send me to him!

Then finally, in post game, likely before seeing Kallamar again, when you have gathered enough sin the seller will ask you:

"I have dealt with Gods, and often pondered; does the Bearer wear the Crown, Or the Crown the Bearer?"

"Stay back! Stay away! Mercy, Red Crown, mercy..."

Of course once you have him as s follower and he realises you are not walking puppet for damnation personified he chills out.

According to the seller "Foolish though he may have seemed, he wielded the power of his Crown without discrimination." Meaning Kallamar might have the most experience with how screwy the crown may be on the minds of followers, and potentially gods if Chemach is anything to go by.

In this sense Kallamar might be the only one who believes Narinder to be innocent- in the sense that he was not in his right mind when he did whatever it was that made the bishops think he was trying to kill leshy- imagining him to be under some kind hypnosis, unable to tell friend from foe. So he always separates the two just in case. That being said, the need to imprison him for was probably encouraged by him.

Of course this all relies on the "he" mentioned being Narinder and not like Ratau or something. Kallamar does know him by name, weirdly enough. "Your friend Ratau was the last vessel sent against us," which begs the much funnier question that how does he know his name? Did they talk? Did Ratau just scream an introduction before every fight? Presumably that was decades ago Kallamar how do you even remember?

Not the worst ship I've seen.

All fun aside, some of Heket's lines can also be interpreted this way.

Heket: "So it is true. The Red Crown sits upon the brow of another."

"The Bishops… my family. Have they not suffered enough? Have I not suffered enough? We fought, pathetic vessel. We bled. We grieved. And yet the Red Crown wants more. No more."

"Pathetic, sniveling, vile puppet to the Red Crown. You have felled the youngest of us. We are the Bishops of the Old Faith. We protect against heresies such as yours. /....We will not tolerate such blasphemy. Your sins are many, and for that y... "

"You there, vessel of the Red Crown! Bow to me, or you will regret it!"

"It was not so long ago that we cast out the Red Crown. A mere thousand or so years. The heresy it preached could not be tolerated. Such noxious ideals... it could not be allowed. For this most damning of sins_"

The mention of sins and heresy is interesting because more less or we just got here. There's the idea that the crown itself is heretical, perhaps not just as a symbol. Since you know, it tells us to gather sin. But of course, in typical play you have murdered her followers in at least four crusades against Leshy then her so, plenty of heresy and sin there.

Theres no much we can gleam about Narinder's actions, but her dialogue suggests her battle with Narinder stemmed from what he wanted to accomplish/his vision for the future, rather than any attempts on Leshy's life- at least not directly- and considering Narinder says "Heket's words were more toxic and foul than the mushrooms that grew in her domain." I think they may have fought over policy and doctrine a lot. After all, nothing would be so wounding to Narinder than himself to be wrong and someone else to be right.

He calls her "arrogant" but Haro called her "temperamental". The two may not conflict, since haro also says she's "afeared by none" which is to say scared by nothing, not that in her rule nobody was scared of her. The seller calls her "vicious" and a "wicked beast", but also amusing in a way, which I'm more inclined to believe is him saying she was annoyingly persistent in trying to get past him into his portal thing than any form of true disdain. Then again she might have just eaten the god tears to see what they do instead of trading them. So many fun possibilities.

That being said, how do we reconcile Kallamar's belief that Narinder tried to kill Leshy with Heket's main complaint being his ideas?

Shamura.

Part 3: the tl;dr.

Shamura introduced Narinder to change, but according to Haro this should have been something he already knew from being around his siblings since their domains "transpose". Famine: feed. Plague: cure. War: peace. Chaos: order. So this has to be something different.

Shamura's domain used to be knowledge but now she is known for war. Her aspect changed, and it's likely this is what she means.

Narinder wanted to change Leshy's aspect. It would solve all his problems, allowing his other siblings to experiment instead of just stamping out anything new. Once he was set on his course Shamura couldn't stop him.

If leshy was already struggling and tried listening to Narinder and changing how everyone saw him, already having issues with cult management, this could have killed him. A god is nothing without followers. If Narinder started his plan without letting Leshy know, it definitely could have killed him.

The plan would require everyone's cooperation to work, rituals rewritten and spreading word of the change fast enough to keep it from being changed back. Shamura would have argued against it, noting issues that if brushed off by nari would set off Heket and they'd argue viciously, probably about Narinder's character and how callous ignoring the risks are. If Kallamar was put on the spot, already being a cowardly person he wouldn't be of any help. And the fight would continue.

It's possible leshy would have tried it just to stop his siblings, and done catastrophic damage to himself. After all, he's the only one who is said to eat the sacrifices directly. It's possible whatever happened forced him to need to eat food, something the gods usually don't bother with.

This would have cemented his belief in the rules as they are now, instead of however lax he may have been before. He may have liked the mushroomos or learning to make plant people before then and might have been the only one who was interested in what Narinder was doing and not trying to stop it.

You may think yourself righteous in your service to HIM. But you should not be so trusting of the Chained One.

He's the only one to comment on how your quest could be perceived as the right thing to do. He's been there himself and suffered for it.

Even so, Camellia still grows in the dark woods. They are the flowers that grow around any red crown rooms you may find, making them explicitly tied to Narinder.

And with Narinder's inability to celebrate his demise....

They couldn't quite bring themselves to hate the other.

[simplehedgehog]

YTTD x Genshin Impact. Character Preview

Sou Hiyori/Shin Tsukimi (★★★★★) Vision: Hydro (Inazuma) Weapon: Catalyst (mage) Constellation: Angelfish Race: human Birthday: April 2

*Note: In-game character description and his name change after completing corresponding World Quest.

Mysterious guy who's looking for his MIA friend. It seems like his Vision has been acting pretty strange since he arrived in Fontaine.

Fontaine physician which seems to hide some secret. Are we really sure that he is not connected with the mysterious Dream Fountain which cures any wounds?

"Tears for tears, blood for blood. Never underestimate the power of Hydro; how do you know if it will be a mushroom rain or tidal wave?"

TALENTS:

Drops Sound (Normal Attack)

Normal Attack. Performs up to 3 attacks using small Hydro Fishes.

Charged Attack. Consumes a certain amount of Stamina and deals AoE Hydro DMG after a short casting time.

Plunging Attack. Calling upon the power of Hydro, plunges towards the ground from mid-air damaging all opponents in his path. Deals AoE Hydro DMG upon impact with the ground.

Act of Disobedience (Elemental Skill)

Creates Hydro Shield which accumulates the opponents' attacks. If the shield's integrity is compromised, it explodes and deals lasting AoE Hydro DMG.

Last Words (Elemental Burst)

Creates Hydro Octopus Tentacles which start to circle around him summoning Hydro Bubbles. Hydro Bubbles can capture small sized opponents and deal them lasting DMG. If Hydro Bubbles' integrity is compromised or after a certain amount of time, they explode and deal lasting AoE Hydro DMG. The more Hydro Bubbles explode at once, the more Hydro DMG they deal.

Aqua et Vita (1th Ascension Passive)

Under the influence of Wet Status restores part of his own HP. The longer the status lasts, the more HP can be restored (up to 100%).

Zero Percent (4th Ascension Passive)

When the squad member's HP drops below 50%, Shin sacrifices his own HP to restore HP of all squad members partially until all they have the same HP level.

Like a Fish in Water (Utility Passive)

Decreases Swimming Stamina consumption for your own party members by 20%. Not stackable with Passive Talents which provide the exact same effects.

[verytallfox]

The Sounds of Nightmares Episode 5: A Deluge of the Inevitable Thoughts

Right off the bat, we learn the Ferryman is likely the archetypal “guardian at the threshold.” Additionally, Noone has an OCULAR TUMOR in her brain?! She has a fucking eye-thing in there and it is what’s pulling her into the Nowhere.

Next, Noone gives Otto the chewing out of his life. He doesn’t want to listen to her about her parents, and she calls him out on his bullshit. She agrees to tell him about her latest dream so long as there are no machines this time. He agrees.

There’s a role reversal now: Otto will be lying down with a blindfold on while Noone tells him her latest trip to the Nowhere. Otto hopes that Noone can somehow transmit her dream into his head.

Noone is in a sewer setting. There’s lots of children and there’s waste and there’s messed up pipes. Also, unfortunately for Otto his plan is working.

Also, THERE IS A NOME!!! The same noise, the same description, and the same mannerisms! Noone calls it a “little mushroom fairy.” Noone also hits a nasty child with a brick who presumably seeks to hurt the Nome. The Nome guides her to a room full of scavenged junk and treasures, all compiled into piles, dropped down from the world above for years.

There’s also an abandoned child’s “propeller cap” that Noone suspects the Nome’s trying to show her.

There’s also a man, who empties his pockets with his goodies. He was seen before with a beeping device. He’s horribly distorted, his head a mess like most others in the Nowhere. Said head is swollen with the back sagging behind his head, mistaken for a sack for Noone. And she knows he used to be human. He became one with the sewers.

(Cutting out excessive summarization of the episode, there’s a chase, a tidal wave, and cruel singing)

Finally, the Ferryman appears and speaks in riddles that Noone has determined the meaning of: if she gives in to his world the suffering she feels in her own will stop. She suggests that CiCi (?) abandoned Otto because she had enough of his shit. He stumbles out of the room in shock.

Otto’s demeanor changes from this and he’s colder to her from here on out. She also discovers the tumor’s existence. He’s unprofessional and no matter what she said she’s a child and he’s an adult so fuck him, grrr!

Later that night, Otto decided to use a device on Noone to locate the tumor, believing it to be the gateway to the Nowhere. Noone is coming in and out of sleep and Otto is unhinged. He has some sort of brain imaging device and he finds her tumor. Upon viewing it, it LOOKS AT HIM, and its stare is seemingly painful. As it watches him, the machine breaks.

Something has happened to Noone…

And we’ve been cliffhangered. In the words of the great Rouxls Kaard:

GOD. DAMN IT.

Some analysis:

I fucking loved this episode. Of the few legitimate theories I have (this episode mainly backs up the ones I already there), Eyes in your brain lead to the Nowhere, the Ferryman is its guardian, and it can bleed into our world too are all that’s new. Pretty simple!

Also, I believe the “bag-headed man” was once a normal child or normal man, and he’s meant to embody some sort of desire or hunger along with the nasty children. Noone’s explanation of him and the children each wanting what the other has also is meant to parallel to some degree her and Otto.

Additionally, the propeller cap is either the man’s or the Nome’s. As for the children, I don’t think those children were always children (assuming they even are children now) or perhaps they originated in the Nowhere. There’s something wrong with those guys.

I think the man might be in Little Nightmares 3. There was a suspiciously sewer-themed area in the trailer so fingers crossed!

Also, I believe CiCi is Otto’s sister. There’s mention briefly of Otto being just a boy and also looking “nothing like” his sister.

Lastly, something bad has happened to Noone y’all. I don’t know what, but I think the answers fall under two categories: physical harm or vanishing. We’ve got one more episode left and I can’t wait for it.

EDIT

Holy shit I can’t believe I didn’t consider that they both might be in the Nowhere now. I honestly love that idea, along with the possibility that the final recording will be taken while in the Nowhere. LOVE THAT!

Apologies if this summary heavy, but I hope this gave folks some delicious morsels to nibble on until next week! Thanks for reading and god I love this fucking podcast so much, it has filled the Magnus-shaped hole in me hearto. Anywho, toodles!

[shafaamushrooms]

Shop for Tidal Wave magic mushrooms and experience the intense and fast-acting effects. Order now for safe and secure delivery.

[r0ttenlic0rice]

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Whipped Cream

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OC or self description: Name, age, gender, personality, zodiac sign, appearance, fun facts, disabilities (mental or physical), and your “type.”

What not to include: real last names, NSFW mentions, or very brief/extremely long descriptions.

☕ Cortado – Scenarios Small but packed with flavor. Limit of 1 scenario per request, but feel free to mix in a theme topping:

Caramel Drizzle

Espresso Shot

☕ Flat White – Letters Choose your style:

Caramel Drizzle

Espresso Shot

Whipped Cream

Dark Cocoa Dusting (still brewing!)

You can:

Send a letter first: Provide your preferred name, and I’ll write a response from a character or dorm (non-romantic for dorms).

Request directly: Just pick a character and style—I'll keep it anonymous using Y/N or Yuu!

꧁ღ⊱♥ Perfect Desserts to Pair with Your Coffee Enjoy a cup of your favorite brew with your favorite decadent treats⊱♥

Riddle Rosehearts: Red Velvet Chess Cake

Ace Trappola: Trickster’s Éclair

Deuce Spade: Spade Berry Tart

Cater Diamond: Socialite’s Macarons

Trey Clover: Matcha Clover Roll Cake

Leona Kingscholar: Golden Honey Baklava

Ruggie Bucchi: Savanna Sugar Doughnuts

Jack Howl: Protein Granola Parfait

Azul Ashengrotto: Ocean Salt Caramel Panna Cotta

Jade Leech: Forest Mushroom Truffles

Floyd Leech: Tidal Wave Jelly

Kalim Al-Asim: Golden Saffron Basbousa

Jamil Viper: Sands of Spice

Vil Schoenheit: Mirror Glazed Opera Cake

Rook Hunt: Arrowhead Meringues

Epel Felmier: Apple Rose Pastry

Idia Shroud: Blue Flame Soufflé

Malleus Draconia: Black Sesame Cheesecake

Lilia Vanrouge: Vampire Bat Pavlova

Silver: Moonlit Vanilla Pudding

Sebek Zigvolt: Lime Lightning Tart

Ortho Shroud: Binary Byte Brownies

Grim: Flame-Frosted Cupcakes

Staff and event characters coming soon!⊱♥

[poutysprouty]

PARAGON

Chapter 002

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!OC wc: 2.7k warnings: Angst!! a/n: I have nothing to say I'm literally just copy pasting from the AO3 page <3

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When Miguel woke up again, it was daylight. His eyes felt like they had been sealed shut, but he managed to pry them open and wipe away any of the lingering traces of sleep. His vision remained hazy, momentarily shrouding him in confusion.

A gentle breeze drifted through the open windows of the quaint cottage, causing the delicate, pale green curtains to sway and create a gentle rustling. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a soothing, dappled glow. Miguel's attention was drawn away from the windows to a warm weight settled on his chest.

With several blinks to sharpen his vision, he peered downward, seeing that the weight was caused by an incredibly plump, brown tabby cat that was perched on him, paws tucked under its body and tail wrapped tightly around it. The cat's eyes were half-closed, and Miguel could feel the thunderous purrs reverberating through his own chest.

He closed his eyes once more, furrowing his thick brows in an attempt to orient himself. At first, his memories were shrouded in a foggy haze, but soon, they surged forth like a tidal wave.

Images of his escape, the boat crash, and his battle against the raging storm in the heart of the Scottish Highlands all filled his mind. Vivid memories resurfaced, guiding him to the moment when he stumbled upon the sanctuary of the forest and his descent down the ravine. Miguel's realization washed over him like a chilling wave: he would have died if not for the mysterious savior who had intervened. Echoes of a melodic voice reverberated in his ears, a beckoning call that had reached out to him.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the opening door of the cottage, through which his rescuer made her entrance. She carried a basket brimming with an assortment of plants and mushrooms, expertly balanced on her hip.

"Oh, you're awake!" Her voice pierced through his reverie, causing him to start with such a sudden jolt that the cat let out an indignant meow before gracefully leaping down to the wooden floor with a solid thud. “I wasn’t sure when you’d finally wake up.”

Miguel observed as the woman briskly moved about the cottage, clearing a space on a table in what looked to be the kitchen area, and unceremoniously dumping the woven basket onto it. Her dark hair was gathered away from her face, pinned in place with some sort of clip. It was mostly tamed, though a few rogue strands still hung around her face.

He swallowed several times, a sense of returning to his own body slowly overcoming him. He became aware of his parched throat, and the woman took note of his discomfort. With a fluid grace that seemed almost otherworldly, she grabbed a mug from a nearby shelf and filled it with liquid from a leather flask hanging from her belt. Moving across the room, she extended the mug toward him.

Cautiously, he reached out to take it, his unwavering gaze fixed on her. A radiant smile graced her face, and a chuckle escaped her. "It's just water, I promise.”

Miguel took a tentative sip, but the cool, refreshing liquid was a balm to his dry, scratchy throat. Before he knew it, the mug was drained. He sighed in relief as he pulled it away from his lips, offering it back to the woman. She returned to the table and set the empty mug down, turning her attention to the contents of the now-emptied basket.

Attempting to sit up, Miguel grunted as his entire body protested with aches. He managed to prop himself upright and, with a curious glance, inspected the bandage snugly wound around his ribs. When he looked up once more, the woman had methodically organized the plants and mushrooms into distinct piles, and several glass jars had mysteriously materialized on the table.

Silence enveloped the room for a few moments before he mustered the strength to speak again. His voice emerged raspy and hoarse, but the words remained intelligible. "Who are you?"

She remained absorbed in her tasks, her attention diverted to tying herbs together for drying and carefully storing mushrooms in the glass jars. Miguel watched her hands move with a certain grace, showing her familiarity with these actions.

"My name is Cerridwen," she finally answered. It prompted a nod from him, his lips pressed together in curiosity. She offered no further details, leaving him to think in silence.

"What happened?"

Cerridwen's eyes finally flicked toward him, one dark eyebrow arched. She leaned over the table, her hands bracing her weight against the dark wood. "I don't know. How about you tell me? You're the one who careened into the ravine - flattening nearly a quarter bushel’s worth of sorrel, mind you," she retorted.

Miguel blinked, taken aback by the abrupt shift in her demeanor. "I... I'm sorry?" His response carried a hint of uncertainty, unsure of how to proceed.

Cerridwen clicked her tongue disapprovingly and shook her head with mock disappointment. "You're lucky that I have other places to gather sorrel," she commented before gathering a bunch of the now sealed glass jars into her arms and carrying them to a large hutch located next to the fireplace. She sent him a playful grin over her shoulder. He realized then that she had been joking with him. Her easy smile eased the knot in his chest that had begun tightening at the thought of angering the person who had saved him.

Miguel cautiously shifted on the cot, making an effort to swing his legs over the edge and rise to his feet. As he attempted to stand, his sudden motion caught Cerridwen’s attention and she whirled around, fixing him with a steely glare.

"Sit back down; your ribs aren't finished healing yet," she snapped, tone sharp and leaving no room for question.

Her demeanor carried an unsettling familiarity, akin to the no-nonsense authority of his late wife. His compliance was almost reflexive, and he settled back onto the cot with a resigned sigh. Cerridwen approached him, deftly pushing aside the covers to fully reveal the bandages enveloping his injured side. He hissed in pain when she applied pressure to his left side, flinching away.

"That's what I thought," she murmured, narrowing her eyes as she studied his reaction, a shadow of concern etched on her features.

Miguel's eyes clamped shut as he clenched his teeth, a relentless wave of pain coursing through his body once more. With a labored breath, he reclined onto the cot, determined to keep the involuntary whimpers of agony in check.

Cerridwen watched over him for a brief moment before vanishing into an adjoining room. When she came back out, she was carrying fresh bandages and a damp cloth, the latter of which she soaked in water from her flask. Pulling a chair alongside the cot, she sat in it, Miguel's eyes tracking her every move. The tabby from earlier returned and hopped back onto the cot, settling down next to his lower leg. Miguel's gaze drifted to the cat while Cerridwen removed and cleansed the area beneath the bandages before carefully applying the fresh ones.

No words were exchanged during the procedure, as Cerridwen worked with precision. After completing her task and discarding the old bandages, she returned the chair to its original position and took a moment to admire her handiwork. A hint of amusement danced in her eyes as she spoke, "You're very heavy, by the way."

Miguel couldn't help but huff a laugh despite the lingering discomfort. "I'm twice your size."

Cerridwen's expression contorted with mild annoyance. "I'm stronger than you’d think."

"I'm sure," Miguel replied with a nod, nestling back into the pillows supporting his head. He shifted his gaze to her and added, "My name is Miguel. Thank you... for helping me."

---

The next week passed by very similarly. Cerridwen spent most of the day out of the cottage, and Miguel wasn’t sure whether it was her normal routine or if she just wanted to give him space. Miguel spent most of his time resting on the cot, often accompanied by her tabby cat. Miguel quickly learned that he was named Oak – a name that he thought was fitting, considering how big the bratty housecat was.

When she returned to the cottage just a few hours before dusk, they would engage in light talk – normally Cerridwen asking him how he was feeling, if he needed anything, what he’d like for dinner, or him asking her about the plants she had gathered that day, what they were good for, or asking about the weather. They hadn’t breached the subject of how he ended up in the woods in the first place, though Miguel knew she was curious. He could see it in her expression every time they got close to the topic. Cerridwen was typically the one to stop the conversation from going any further, and he was grateful for it. It was still painful for him to recount the events leading up to now in his own mind, let alone express himself to someone who was technically a stranger.

Part of him felt like she deserved to know, though. After all, if it hadn’t been for her, he would probably still be at the bottom of the ravine, either dead or close to it. But the echoes of his wife and daughter’s screams still haunted him, suffocating him to the point that he couldn’t bring himself to speak about it.

Cerridwen proved to be a good healer and companion regardless. Toward the end of the week, Miguel could finally stand on his own without any pain landing him flat on his ass. She was good at keeping his mind occupied, already able to pick up on the signs that he was retreating into his mind well before even he realized.

Just over a week had passed before Miguel was able to leave the cottage. The day had begun with Cerridwen rousing him from slumber, draped in a heavy woolen dress, her shoulders adorned with a snugly wrapped scarf. It was still early - the room was cloaked in a soft, diffused light as the dawn's first rays barely pierced the window, and the hearth's last embers smoldered in the fireplace.

Standing over Miguel, Cerridwen extended a bundle of fabric that he soon learned were clothes. He dressed as swiftly as his still-recovering body allowed, and then followed her outside into the frigid, dimly lit morning.

The woman was now a few paces in front of him, threading her way through the slowly thawing underbrush with the grace of a seasoned tracker. Her movements showed a connection with the nature surrounding them, akin to that of a wildcat, as if the wilderness itself welcomed her presence. Miguel marveled at her ease in the natural world, a serenity he had rarely witnessed. Even the experienced jungle trekkers he had known during his upbringing in New Spain did not radiate the same level of comfort in the wild.

"So, remind me where we're going, again?" he puffed, his breath forming frosty clouds in the crisp morning air. He swiftly ducked to miss a branch that had snapped back at him after Cerridwen's passage. He grunted with exertion as he hastened his steps to reach her side.

Cerridwen hadn’t told him their destination before leaving, so Miguel's question was more meant as an inquiry rather than a reminder.

"I have a few traps that I need help checking," she expressed between breaths, the strain evident as she maneuvered over a massive fallen tree, her boots connecting with the ground in a soft thud upon reaching the other side. Turning, she observed Miguel's attempt to climb over the obstacle. His decline wasn’t quite as graceful as hers, and she reached out to steady him when he stumbled forward. Her hands lingered on his chest as she peered up at him, arching an eyebrow in response to his now-flushed face.

"I'm alright," he puffed, brushing her off. "Just... not accustomed to all this moving, I suppose."

It was no surprise. He'd endured a cramped jail cell and near-starvation for weeks before his escape, barely eating enough on the ship prior to the crash. Despite Cerridwen's help healing him, his body remained dangerously malnourished and out of shape.

"Don't push yourself, Miguel," she cautioned, leading the way once more. "I brought you out here, but if you need a break, speak up." She shot a playful glare over her shoulder. "I'm not carrying you again."

Miguel huffed with amusement, gathering his strength and following her once more.

---

They spent most of the morning checking her traps, Miguel carrying what few poor creatures had gotten caught. The haul was mostly rabbits and squirrels. However, there were also a few trout, ensnared in the cleverly placed traps situated in the nearby river.

Currently, the pair were resting on a large, flat stone perched at the river's edge. They took turns passing the flask of water between them, basking in the late afternoon sun. Miguel offered her some berries that he had gathered while waiting for her to reset some traps earlier in the morning.

Cerridwen's voice, soft as the breeze rustling the grass around them, broke the stillness. "So, what’s your plan?"

Miguel's gaze shifted to her, bewilderment etched on his face. "What plan?" he inquired.

She nonchalantly shrugged, tossing a bruised berry into the swift current below. "I’m sure you don’t plan on staying here forever.”

Understanding dawned on Miguel, and he briefly nodded, his eyes wandering from the rolling hills to the horizon. His breath escaped slowly, contemplative. "I was on my way to Ireland when the ship I was on got caught in a storm and wrecked," he confessed, the words hushed, as if reluctant to disturb the peace between them.

"Why were you going to Ireland?" Cerridwen probed.

Miguel pursed his lips, recognizing her question as both a gateway for him to share everything or evade sharing too much. "My father lives there.” The response was short, simple. He sensed her disappointment but knew she wouldn’t press further.

"So… You're Irish?" She studied him, taking in his bronzed skin, dark locks, and brown eyes. He knew he bore little resemblance to the typical Irishman. His complexion was too dusky, his accent too thick, R’s rolling effortlessly off of his tongue when he spoke.

"Half," he answered honestly, opting for the truth in that aspect of his past. "My mamá was born in New Spain, my papá was an explorer from Ireland. They separated after my brother, Gabriel, was born, but he would write to us sometimes."

Miguel didn’t mention how the first time he had seen his father in person in decades was right before Gabriella's birth. He also didn’t mention how his mother died from illness during his adolescence, or how his brother vanished at sea while on the way to visit Miguel and Catalina in Spain, mere months before Gabriella's arrival.

The memory remained vivid in Miguel's mind. There had been one survivor of the wreck that had claimed Gabriel’s life: a weathered old man with a hunched back, whose spindly hands trembled when he delivered the news. He recounted how Gabriel eagerly spoke of Miguel and anticipated their reunion, expressing his joy at being present for the birth of their newest family member. Tears welled in the man's eyes as he begged forgiveness, explaining his futile efforts to save Miguel's brother.

Miguel struggled to maintain composure during the man's visit, but upon his departure, he crumbled. Rage and grief surged through him, and he only found solace in his wife, Catalina. He sobbed into her embrace for hours, finding relief only in sleep, waking to find Catalina still cradling him, her face buried in his dark curls. It was her idea to name their child in honor of his beloved brother.

Startled by the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, Miguel flinched, abruptly pulled back to the present. Cerridwen sat beside him, green eyes round with concern.

Offering a strained smile, he rose from his seat, extending a hand to help her to her feet as well. As she brushed herself off, he took a glance at the slowly darkening sky, watching as heavy clouds rolled over the horizon. "Let’s start heading back. Looks like rain might be on its way.”

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tag list: Open.

all dividers made by me @/poutysprouty. please do NOT use.

[esmagilightsisterhood]

Awakenings, Part 1

Awakenings, Part 1

CW for uncertain fates, potential death, violence, injury

Scout quickly dropped from the sky, diving to relative safety from the mass of darkness chasing her. The giant moth put on as much speed as she could, aided by the magic of the glowing faerie on her back. She skidded into a landing in front of the others. "I'm… I'm so sorry… I couldn't… I couldn't shake it. And there's more coming… I'm so sor-"

"Shhhh…. we both did our best," 'Jaindoh' said as they jumped off Scout's back. Their delicate, ethereal features showed just the barest hint of sorrow. "I'm sure that no one blames either you or I."

The others nodded. "You did well," Maria said, her grip on her walking stick tightening as energy flows through her and into it. "Now… Scout… Jaindoh… let us handle the rest. Just… split up and fly in opposite directions."

'Jaindoh' hissed at Maria for suggesting such a thing. "Together," they said, "we can outrun it-"

"For a little while, but you'll run out of magic, and they'll get both of you eventually. If you split up, not only can it not get both of you, but it might hesitate in indecision long enough for both of you to get out of its sight."

Just as 'Jaindoh' seemed to acquiesce, Scout jumped in.

"N-no, I can't do that! I just brought them to you, I can't let you fight them alone… I can't doom another family… not after-"

"You didn't doom them, and you aren't dooming us. There' s nothing you can do but live for us."

"But - "

The 'young lady' sitting on the giant mushroom interjected. "This one is designed for protection. You are not. Let it do its Duty."

"Come on, please! Maria and Olive are right!" 'Jaindoh' pulled at one of Scout's arms. "We need to go!"

"…fine.. sorry…" Scout finally agreed and the two winged entities took off to the skies as the dark force drew nearer. They flew in opposite directions…

And the darkness took no time to decide who to chase. It floated swiftly yet heavily straight at Scout - and there was no way Scout could outrun it without 'Jaindoh's' help.

A barrage of sparks struck the darkness, and a shooting star - no, it was 'Jaindoh!' - flew like a shining missile right into it. In a shower of sparks and explosions, it was hard to see them falling… falling… falling… their glow gone and replaced by creeping shadows.

The mushroom suddenly jumped up out of the ground and seemed to have sprouted arms and legs. It's… face?… was almost childlike, yet froze with fear, like a little kid finding the boogeyman actually under their bed. It ran as fast as it could, managing to cushion 'Jaindoh's' fall with the mushroom cap of its head. They bounced right into its arms.

At first, the mushroom seemed relieved, but then started to cry when it saw the condition 'Jaindoh' was in. The faerie spoke. "Petrichor… is… is that you?"

"…uh-huh," the mushroom replied. "Petrichor is here. Got you… you be okay, okay?"

"I'm… sorry, Petri… I can't promise you that. Tell Scout… tell everyone… my name is.. E-"

Before they could finish, the darkness overtook them, and they were gone. Petrichor was heartbroken. "Petrichor… Petrichor will tell-"

But Petrichor would tell no one, as the the darkness from 'Jaindoh' spread to it. Maria and Olive are soon at Petrichor's side, but there was nothing they could do. Olive's head twitched slightly, the only sign of distress on the otherwise seemingly-emotionless porcelain 'person'. On the other hand, the witch wept openly, her staff now angrily crackling with energy. "How many more… how many more?"

At least one more. Even with the ultimate sacrifice 'Jaindoh' made, Scout still couldn't get away.

Even more bad news: a practical tidal wave of darkness had arrived, threatening to sweep them away in its gluttonous tide.

"This is it, dear," Maria sighed. "I'm almost charged. I'll end this one way or anoth-"

Before she could finish speaking, a sudden spike of darkness jutted out straight for her heart - only for the doll beside her to suddenly be in front of her. It barely pierced Olive, but the cracks were already starting to spread, and darkness permeated and seeped. It was eventually completely enveloped. The spike vanished… and so did Olive.

As did any restraint Maria had.

"You… you vile miasma! You putrid nothingness! You took my friends… you took. My. Olive." The sparks and arcs on her staff were more than mere crackles now. They raged with the fury of the witch's heart. "You have left me with nothing but my hatred of you. You may have that too!" A flash of red engulfs the land, starting from the tip of her staff, until nothing could be seen but-

Five nightmares ended. None of the dreamers realized they shared the same dream of fantastical beings, nor were they aware of the seeds that were planted within them.

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