#✪ Dogwood Yips

[polyarmory]

butchjonny -> drumpowdville -> postalomic -> butchjonny -> polyarmory

✶ Identity Hoarder. ✶ White Non-Religious Ashkenazi. ✶ Dissociative Introject of Three. ✶ Omnist Pagan. ✶ Taken by Jonny.

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✶ Don't try to start discourse with me. I stay away from it to protect my own mental health. ✶ I sometimes post suggestive images and not safe for work jokes. These are all tagged as #Suggestive. ✶ I don't usually censor slurs I can reclaim. But if you need anything tagged you can shoot me an ask or direct message.

🧷 ——— 🌲 ——— 🧷 ——— 🌲

✶ Icon. ✶ Divider.

[02/24/24].

[tamakat]

FLINT DOGWOOD!!! (and the rest of them ig)

My good pal @lordjackalope ran a very fun Kids on Brooms game for some friends and I a bit back and I dont think we've shut up about it since nor will we in the future. So here our our little guys we're definitely referencing in the future

@tamakat 's Flint Dogwood

@meadow-brook 's Rute (He's from the circus)

@ashekeepmountain 's Hemlock

And Rowan played by me :)

[earth-b0y]

"Heh. Lookit all've 'em," Dogwood says in amusement to no one in particular, gesturing with his cigarette at the group of children kicking a soccer ball around the garden and laughing, squealing, and occasionally yipping or growling while trying to keep the ball away from each other. "'S an invasion."

[lordjackalope]

Flint Dogwood & the Mages but they're a band Who plays what?

I definitely didn't forget about this, you forgot about this

Flint - Yip goes *wild* on the drums. I will not elaborate.

Rowan - I feel like Rowan has bass guitar vibes? Like I could def see them jamming it out in the background

Hemlock - Vocals and maybe acoustic guitar bc 1. she's definitely had singing lessons and 2. she's absolutely a taylor swift fan

Root - All I can think is that they probably do fuckin accordion or something. I cannot see this raccoon playing a normal instrument. Outside of that, probably back up vocals. I feel like they would enjoy doing choreography/onstage stunts

[redolentgrove]

(askpokemoncrossover)Akira@Loki: The mewtwo examined Loki closely with eagerness "My stars... I've witnessed many beautiful creatures before, but this... this is on a whole new level. Never in my wildest dreams I would see a pokemon-taur like yourself, Loki." He said before bowing politely. "My name is Akira and I overheard your conversation... tell me, did this dogwood tree used to be someone you cared about?" He asked as he calmly stroke the fur on Loki's lower back.

"Well... you certainly do know how to charm with your words, don't you?" Loki blushed softly at the compliments, fiddling with an ear thoughtfully. She looked into the Mewtwo's eyes, her head tilting as she led the psychic feline closer to the dogwood, bringing them both back near the tree trunk. "It's a pleasure, Akira." She bowed back at him with a soft wag of her tail, humming warmly. Just as she was about to begin explaining about the significance of the dogwood, he had begun stroking her taurback. Loki's ears bristled and she let out a low hiss at Akira.

"No, nono... see, I don't know you. Don't put your hands on me and start petting me without asking. Especially not my taurback."

Loki's right hindleg kicked back against the tree bark. One of the larger tree branches right above the Mewtwo began to sway with an extra breeze, snapping as if by some unknown force. The branch fell toward the Mewtwo's head... certainly not enough to cause any sort of major bodily harm, but enough to be a definitive annoyance. A large leaf broke off from the branch on impact, and without warning....

THWIP.

A wooden arrow flung through the air, striking straight through the centre of the leaf and sending it to the ground, a sizeable hole visible through the middle. A second arrow flew over the pair's heads several seconds later, as if to serve as a warning shot. Loki flinched uneasily at the second arrow, ears flattening.

"What the-" she began, before the assailant made itself known.

"Leave her alone!" cried an unseen feminine voice, a tone of uneasy youth behind it.

"I've got this under control, Bijoux!" Loki called back. "I've told you; while I appreciate your protection, I don't need a bodyguard for every interaction!"

"I swear, if he touches you again, the next shot is gonna-"

"Enough!" Loki's eyes narrowed, and she padded over to pick up the two shot arrows, stowing them in her saddlebag. "We'll talk later, daughter," she yipped toward the archer. "Let me care for this, and let me do so on my terms."

"...yes, Mom." Bijoux's voice sounded somewhat meek, though Loki felt the response seemed sufficient. Sounds of rustling leaves emanated from where the unseen creature's voice originated, signaling that she had left. Loki turned back toward the Mewtwo, with a repentant frown on her muzzle.

"...Akira, I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to leave. Please come back when your actions are as well-mannered as your words... if such happens."

@askpokemoncrossover

[austennerdita2533]

8 People I’d Like To Know Better

Tagged by this precious peach: @emmaewatson​. Thanks Soph! xx

ONE /  name / alias. Ashlee Bree TWO  /  birthday. January 23rd THREE  /  zodiac sign. Aquarius FOUR  /  height. 5′6′’ FIVE  /  hobbies. Writing creatively (original content and/or fic), reading like the unapologetic bookworm I am, bingeing TV & movies, experimenting in the kitchen (a lá baking/cooking), studying languages, hanging with friends and family, etc. SIX  /  favourite colors. All shades of blue, pink, purple, red SEVEN /  favourite books. Huge Austen fan obviously, Lover of classic literature, Harry Potter series, The Folk of the Air series by Holly Black, Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, The Secret History by Donna Tartt, The Emperor of All Maladies by Siddharta Mukherjee, The Hating Game by Sally Thorne, The Unwinding of the Miracle: A Memoir of Life, Death, and Everything That Comes After by Julie Yip-Williams, All For The Game series by Nora Sakavic... (I could go on forever. I have faves from a ton of different genres) EIGHT  /  last song listened to. “Steal My Girl” by Anthem Lights NINE  /  last film watched. Ibiza - Kind of an awful movie but did I swoon over Richard Madden? Why, yes. Yes, I did. 😂 TEN  /  inspiration for muse. The most random things inspire me. Particularly when it comes to writing. It can be something as simple as a line, a look, a quote, a trope, something about my countless number of ships, the way the rain droplets slide off of a dogwood leaf, how a wisp of hair falls over somebody’s eyebrow, amusement that’s infectious; pining, loss, or missing that stings and keeps stinging; sunset painted across an October sky, steady eye contact, pungent perfume or cologne, a song on replay in my head...   ELEVEN  /  dream job. A novelist and/or book editor TWELVE /  meaning behind your url. I’m an Austen nerd. The ‘nerdita’ is a Spanglish concoction of my own making because I derive boundless amounts of joy from deconstructing language for my own purposes. And if I can do it with more than one language, why the hell not? Idc if I’m weird. I own it!

Tagging: @joneswann, @violets-and-tea-leaves, @another--part-of-me,  @annamarcellipalmer, @storm-pirate, @missielynne, @fantasty-fallacy-tumblingstone Only if you’re so inclined, lovelies. :-D

[loveoaths]

@sangoshou // KARATACHI.

crouched high above the riverside in the wooden cup of a flowering dogwood, a man with the heart of a dog & the teeth of a fox fingers the lip of a kunai & watches the dirt come to life. hidden amongst reeds & rushing water hum fields of beetles, weevils, grasshoppers, ants. a ribbon snake slips down cragged bark, licks salt from pale skin before sliding cool, smooth belly-scales across his ankle & dropping into the long grass. fox pups trundle forth from a blue-bellied burrow to play murder in the warming light, mewling & yipping as they take turns snatching scruff & furred throats, shaking just hard enough to develop a taste for it. 

haku watches them, playful yips superimposed by the the screams and warbled cries of children, he confused gurgle of blood that had coursed from his mother’s neck as she spasmed, desperate and confused, at his father’s feet ; then, gaze does wander closer, settling on the small, scarred form kneeling amid the reeds and grasses. thickly-stitched hands work in silence, their ashen pallor starkly contrasted against the lush vegetation. unnatural. 

and yet it had been haku, not zabuza, utakata, or koharu, who had ordered the others to stand down when the reanimated yagura had wandered across their sanctuary. it still confuses him, when he looks at the man anger still bubbles up into his throat black and hot, the hairs on the back of his neck stiff with animal suspicion, but -- he had believed his story. against all things, against all reason, haku had been willing to give him a chance.

for years he had blamed yagura as the source of his misfortune. zabuza, utakata, koharu  ━━  they all had, in some way or another. yagura made sense to blame. he was mizukage, an all-powerful jinchuuriki, a cruel man with a taste for blood  ━━

only that was not entirely true at all, was it. though his taste for blood was likely the same as any kirigakure shinobi, yagura had been obito’s mindless puppet, caught in the snares of a mind-rending genjutsu, oblivious to the chaos and destruction sewn in his name. and the rest of it  ━━ that was all them. the denizens of water country returning to their bloody, sordid roots.

the real monsters had always only been them.

it’s an early summer morning in tea country. the air is bald & already crisping at the edges, straining under the weight of sun bursts & insect chatter. there’s a crook in his neck from tossing & turning all last night, a horsefly’s welted bite itching-crusting the intersection of neck & shoulder.

silently does haku drop from the branches, letting his slow, steady footsteps be heard as he approaches the smaller man from behind. so much anger still coils in his gut  ━━  yet his voice is soft ( if distant ) when he kneels down beside him in the long grass, keeping his eyes on the small, dextrous, deadly hands up to their wrists in reeds and weeds.

❛   What are we looking for ? ❜  he murmurs, idly smoothing the grass before him. spying a tender shoot of mint, he plucks two stalks, setting one against yagura’s hand ; the other is quickly peeled of several leaves that are then stuck in his mouth to chew.  ❛   The best herbs are further down the river.  ❜

[kindredbond-blog]

Campfire Chat

[fueledanger]

   @fueledanger

Just another time at the campfire. He still had little to not idea what was going on other than monsters and other things were constantly hunting him down like an animal, night after night, to slice him down before carrying him to a hook. That was before someone either got him off or he was killed by something dark. And each time he died, something inside of him felt like it was missing. Slowly missing, if nothing else.

However, for now he could just sit by the campfire. It looked like someone had joined him too. A younger adult, by the looks of it. Dark hair, mousy looking complexion, rumpled casual formal clothing,  and glasses that screamed “geek”. Not that it mattered here though. He wasn’t going to make fun of him, and getting to know someone and get on their good side was a must. If one were to survive in a place like this. One couldn’t survive without any help, that was for sure. Most of the time. After a few moments of silence and just staring at the fire, he decided to break the silence. “I’m Lars. Who’re you and what brought you here?” Everyone had their reason to be here, after all. Everyone had their story.

  Usually he prided himself on his uncanny ability to keep names sorted by faces. He’d always had a knack for learning names, although he’s unsure if it’s because of an innate affinity, or the fact that he’d played too many icebreaker rounds back when his job didn’t involve having the blood drained out of him from a puncture wound just shy of his collarbone. Placing a hand over the phantom wound—now only a hole in his shirt that refused to heal alongside his flesh, Dwight wonders how many more names he’d encounter in this terrible place—names he’d have to pin to faces contorted in varying levels of agony both physical and mental. Once he arrived back at the campfire, still sporting patches of dried mud from his mad dash through the Pale Rose, he had his answer. New faces would always be a fact of his entrapped existence until he found a way to rip a hole in the Entity’s web and spill out with the others like infant spiders spilling out of an egg sac and into the world. Feeling about as bowlegged as a newly-hatched arachnid himself, he stumbles into the fire’s light half a beat from plopping onto a dogwood stump when he notices the new face stained in the fire’s glow and contoured with its display of flickering shadows.

  The cautious part of him, beaten to a bloody pulp by a monstrous man of similar size and unnerving presence, feels inclined to rear up, but it settles in his chest once he realizes he’s out of the trial and there would be no surprise machete attacks aimed at his skull; so he hoped, anyway. Perhaps he’d been hanging around Jake too long, he muses while taking a seat nearby the burly stranger. The saboteur seemed to run on a judgement policy reverted only when his target in question proved themselves capable of his respect, but Dwight wasn’t so sure such a strategy would serve any of them well in the long-run. The longer it took them to find common ground, the worse off they’d be teamwork-wise. If that meant he had to play glue to the group’s dynamics and keep a bond growing between them all, then he’d play waiter to all the souls left waiting by the campfire. Regardless of how he felt, it was a step up from delivery boy, anyway.

  The surprise at finding an older face among them had already worn off thanks to a certain mirror-shaded stooge who’d rather call everybody a sucker rather than actually learn their names. No, he’s more surprised at the initial silence, having grown used to the startled babbling that usually accompanied each new arrival save for Nea and the head-butt she’d aimed at his gut. Only once he decides to open his mouth, the stranger speaks. Inquiry rendered to a yip in the back of his throat, Dwight blinks, surprised. Out of all the questions that were likely racing through this guy’s mind, he didn’t expect that one to arrive so early in their encounter. Still, he supposes, it’s better than a head-butt for a greeting. “Sounds like you’ve seen more of this place then you’d care to already.” He notes shortly before shifting to offer his hand. “Dwight. And, uh—…I guess you could say bad moonshine got me here. I know it sounds like one of those ‘that’s my story if anyone asks’ kind of deals, but it’s actually true.” Which is nothing to brag about.

[polyarmory]

butchjonny -> polyarmory

[polyarmory]