#forest dumbassery

[forest-posts-and-reblogs]

some things to know about me:

i live with my mother

i like corn

i am the only person in my house that will eat corn by itself

i wear braces

i am prone to saying the stupidest shit ever

This Morning, On "Forest Is An Idiot":

i opened the fridge to eat a cucumber

i spotted a cob of corn in the fridge

my immediate reaction: "mom bought me a whole-ass cob of corn??? but i don't have teeth!"

[esshades]

TIL the woodchuck in "how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood" is not in fact a bird. It's a GROUNDHOG. THIS ENTIRE TIME I WAS THINKING OF A WOODPECKER. WHY WOULD A BIRD BE CHUCKING WOOD HUH. WHY DID I THINK THAT WAS A LOGICAL SENTENCE IN ANY WAY LIKE IT WAS A NORMAL THING A BIRD COULD DO

[saiyuri-dahlia]

I used to wander the edge of the forest around my house when I was a child, and there were towers of kudzu, pink flowering trees in the spring, and this wall of black and red berries I was told not to eat but I used to smash in between my fingers. It was honestly pretty magical to me as a kid, and I was devastated when my father cleared out that area when I was 10ish.

In retrospect, it was kind of a good thing my dad cleared out that area bc kudzu is highly invasive and chokes out native plants--even if the towers look pretty magical. And those berries I used to smash? Pokeweed, a poisonous plant with poisonous berries. Thank goodness I was an obedient kid and never ate the berries bc I definitely wanted to.

Oh, and the native pink flowering trees are just called redbud trees, and as far as I know there's nothing scary about them. Now that I know what they are, I want to seed propagate them and plant as many as possible to replace all the ones my father cut down.

Since we don't even use that part of our lawn near the forest I'd love to plant native wildflowers, but I know the deer would come by and eat everything. Honestly, the deer are the reason we don't have a larger flower garden, or even tried to plant vegetables.

And our deer are persistent enough to ignore the usual tricks and hop/break fencing, so they're always going to be a problem for my future planting plans. You try to help out the bees, butterflies, and birds, and dang deer have to come along and munch every little green sprig coming out of the ground.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Woooo chapter 3 finally

Probably going to at least start the next chapter tonight because I’m so looking forward to writing Mihawk again. He is in this chapter as I promised, but...we do not wake him from his nap. We know better.

But Bogard and Garp have been so much fun honestly. Especially Garp giving Luffy vibes because the brainless dumbassery for sure runs in the family.

Not sure if that applies to Dragon but…look it’d be hilarious if it did—

Anyway, chapter threeeeeeeee

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 3 of like four or something maybe six at most idk, I have a clear ending in sight but I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get there

Brief summary of The Story So Far: So Garp, in his infinite wisdom, had this brilliant idea about how the Marines could use reader's devil fruit ability (zoan type, gray parrot) to spy on this particularly dangerous and elusive pirate up close, and now reader is stuck scoping out Kuraigana Island to see if there are any signs of him there. Bogard may have a coronary before this nonsense is said and done.

First Chapter link, Next Chapter link

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

Possible trigger warning for blood. Possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,057

Haven't really proofread this much but I will in a minute I promise

No tag list yet, I do not expect one but if you're interested in seeing where this bullshit goes just lemme know

♫♬I’m Gonna Be Your Elvis — The Fratellis♬♫

I could not pretend that I was even half amused

When all they ever told me left me shaken and confused

It would have been a beautiful night for a flight, if not for the destination ahead of you.

Kuraigana Island loomed closer as your wings cut through the soft breeze in your transformed state, and catching the wind would ensure that you could simply glide most of the way there without expending too much energy. The chilly night air barely cut through your thick coat of gray feathers, and your dull coloration and the dim light of the crescent moon gave you some reassurance that you would be able to see any potential threat before it could notice you.

Something near the shore by the forest caught your eye, and you swooped in a bit closer to be positive of what you were looking at—and your stomach did a backflip as you confirmed it.

A small vessel was moored there, a boat in the shape of a coffin.

That was confirmation enough that he was here. Part of you considered circling back around the battleship cutting silently through the water a mile or so behind you and reporting this alone to Garp.

But…no. You had been told to fly over, to see what you could from a high enough elevation to avoid detection, and you intended to do just that. This was your first real chance to show your value as a Marine. You couldn’t blow it by turning tail and running the moment you felt the slightest pang of fear. Hardening your resolve, you regained your elevation with a few flaps of your wings, circling the island until you were at a height where you felt safe.

As safe as you could, at least.

The forest was quiet enough—there were no signs of the population of primates Garp had mentioned to you, perhaps all asleep for the evening. Save for the sound of nocturnal birds and insects cutting through the night air, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the dense forest, or the narrow path that cut through it from the shore. You flew a bit lower, squinting down across the path.

His boat was there. You knew he had to be there somewhere. He never worked with anyone else, so chances were slim to none that he could possibly be anywhere else.

The clearing around the castle was half overgrown itself, littered with ruins and evidence of battles long since ended beneath a thin veil of fog, but the castle itself seemed mostly intact from your vantage point.

Intact, with a dim orange glow glimmering from one of the windows that made you briefly halt in midair, flapping your wings lightly to keep yourself aloft. Fire light. It had to be, there was no other explanation, perhaps the dim glow of a candle or a lantern. There was someone there, someone in a high room of the tower straight ahead of you. That would be enough for you to go back with, more than enough information to all but confirm the reports.

But…if you could get just a little closer, if you could confirm it with your own eyes…

This was a bad idea. It had to be a bad idea. Garp had told you to keep your distance, but you were already swooping down, stopping just beside the window and gripping your talons against the grooves between the stones that comprised the solid wall.

Folding your wings back behind you, slowly and quietly creeping closer to the window.

Closer, just a bit closer, craning your neck the slightest bit to the side to glimpse inside…

The light, as you had thought, came from an oil lantern situated on a small end table, illuminating what appeared to be a sizable den. Most of the visible surfaces in the room were covered with a fine coating of dust that glinted eerily in the flickering glow, from the bookshelves lining one wall to the adjacent hearth. It was quiet at the moment, still, but there was one sign of life that made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch.

Leaning alongside the hearth, unmarred by a single speck of dust, stood a massive sword with a jet-black blade and hilt in the shape of a cross, a glimmering blue gem set into the base of the hilt that seemed to glow in the firelight. Holding your breath as you stared at the weapon, unable to take your eyes off of it, you realized that the room wasn’t quite as silent as you had thought.

The faint whisper of slow, even breathing met your ears.

He was there. He was really there. You considered the likelihood that you were the first Marine to ever get this close without being killed within seconds, considered the idea of taking off back for your ship right that instant.

And then you slowly shifted a little closer to the window, looking around the edge of the windowsill to the other side of the room.

You barely stopped yourself from letting out a gasp.

Reclined back in an old armchair, a book open across his lap, his boots propped up on the table in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted down slightly—it was him. There was no question about it. Even with the small difference from his most recent bounty poster of the angular moustache and goatee, there was no question. You were barely ten feet away from the Marine Killer himself, Dracule Mihawk.

And he was fast asleep.

His chest rose and fell slowly with his deep, even breaths, his eyes closed. His plumed hat sat to the side on an end table, his signature trench coat draped across the back of his chair. You had done it—more than simply scouting for activity, more getting the lay of the land, you had found the man himself.

You jolted in alarm when he shifted in his sleep, quickly pulling your head out of the window, your heart racing.

That, you decided, was more than enough for you to report back. You shifted a careful distance across the wall of the tower, taking care to ensure that your talons didn’t so much as scratch against the stone surface, and took flight back toward the shore, toward the battleship barely visible against the dark water and midnight sky. Gliding just above the treetops, buzzing with adrenaline, you were already swelling with pride. You, a cadet that had spent weeks being taunted and treated like a joke, had managed to use the very ability that had made you a laughingstock to do what no other Marine had yet managed.

For the first time, you had more than just a glimmer of hope that this plan, however ridiculous it sounded on the surface, could actually work.

And then something whizzed past your left wing.

You faltered in your flight, looking around as you flapped your wings a few times to regain your equilibrium. Whatever it was had passed by so fast that you had registered no more than the whistle of wind around it. Maybe a smaller bird or a large bug—

And then it happened again.

And again.

And, as you realized that the objects were coming from below you and looked down, you let out an audible gasp that left you like a strangled squawk.

You were too close to the trees, you realized disjointedly, as you took in the sight of several enormous, ape-like creatures below you. You were also the only bird in the air, which you guessed had a great deal to with the fact that these particular apes were wearing what appeared to be some sort of armor and wielding very human weapons. Swords, spears, axes, and—to your stunned realization—bows.

Another arrow zipped past your right wing, close enough to brush across your feathers.

What the hell what the hell what the hell—

Soaring higher into the air did you little good. The beasts had already spotted you and were following your flight path with ease, still firing arrows, throwing spears (though these, thankfully, didn’t manage to come nearly high enough to pose any threat). You were more than halfway across the expanse of the forest, you could make it, you knew you could.

Nearly to the end of it, dipping higher and lower, zig-zagging through the air to throw off the aim of the strange primates.

Right there, right at the edge of the trees, when a searing pain tore through your right wing, causing you to screech out a swear, glancing down to watch the offending arrow fall and land on the shore below you.

You didn’t even dare glance toward your wing to see how bad the injury was. As long as you didn’t look, it might have only been a scratch. It might have just been a light graze. You tried to ignore how unsteady your flying was, to ignore the fact that you were slowly losing elevation and seemed unable to regain it, that you were swerving to the left no matter how hard you tried not to.

You did focus on the fact that if you fell now, you wouldn’t ever make it back. You’d fall into the nearly black waves below you and sink down into the ocean like a sack of stones, and that would be the end.

Your ship drew closer and closer, growing larger and larger in your line of sight, and you focused on that.

Until you were close enough to glide awkwardly onto the quarterdeck, where Garp and Bogard seemed to be arguing quietly in front of the doors of the Vice Admiral’s cabin, and skid past them across the floorboards, hitting the railing on the starboard side.

Whatever argument your superior officers had been engaged in ceased the moment you transformed, pulling yourself up to sit against the railing, already half-shouting at the older man, “You could have told me they knew how to use weapons!”

You didn’t like the way they stared at you for a long moment, both of their gazes flickering to your right arm, no more than you liked how limp the appendage felt at your side as you gripped at the railing with your left hand.

Garp mumbled something to Bogard, who gave a short nod before disappearing into the cabin.

Garp tilted his head the slightest bit to the side, lifting his eyebrows as he slowly approached you. “That—exactly who knows how to use weapons?” he asked slowly.

“The goddamned apes, that’s who,” you said through your teeth, briefly forgetting every ounce of formality that your time as a Marine had instilled in you. “They had swords! And bows! And armor and spears and—”

“The ap—never mind that for now,” he said slowly, holding up a hand. “You need to calm down, cadet. And we need to get you patched up.”

“Patched up—I could have been killed!”

You still hadn’t looked at your arm. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins made the sharp, throbbing pain seem like an afterthought, like a distant reality as you pulled yourself to your feet. “By a bunch of damned monkeys that evidently—”

“Enough.” You jumped at the harsh command, straightening yourself out completely and snapping to attention in an instant. Your eyes briefly darted to the cabin doors as Bogard emerged, unwinding a belt as he strode over quickly, tossing a quick glare at Garp before lifting your arm and wrapping it around a couple inches below your shoulder. “We can discuss it in a few minutes. We need to get you down to the sick bay first.”

You still didn’t look down, shaking your head at Garp as you stared at him in alarm.

“It was just a scratch, I’m fine—ow—” you added as Bogard abruptly tightened the belt around your arm, glancing over.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the large, deep gash extending nearly from your right elbow to your shoulder.

At the blood steadily spurting out from what was no doubt a pretty important vein or artery.

“O…oh,” was all you could force out, your eyes lowering to the puddle of blood at your feet, the adrenaline rush fading in nearly an instant, leaving you more than a little light-headed. “That’s…”

The makeshift tourniquet around your arm did gradually slow the bleeding by the time you sat down at the edge of one of the cots in the infirmary, but you were still woozy from the blood loss, still lightheaded from everything you had witnessed during your flyover of Kuraigana Island, only catching the vaguest gist of Garp and Bogard’s continued bickering.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this hare-brained mission beforehand?” Bogard was saying, and while his face was shadowed by the brim of his hat you were sure his expression matched his sour tone.

“It was just recon,” said Garp, sitting at the edge of a cot a few feet away, striking a match and holding it to the end of a cigar clamped between his teeth. “In and out, ten minutes. Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“And yet here we are,” he said through his teeth, not bothering to glance up at your flinching as he cleaned the gash with an alcohol drenched cloth.

“How the hell was I supposed to know a bunch of goddamned apes would know how to use weapons?” he said, slouching over against the wall. “Wonder if the psychopath trained them…”

“Seeing as we know next to nothing about him aside from the fact that he seems to derive joy from committing mass murder, I don’t suppose anyone knows,” said Bogard, tossing a sidelong glare at the vice admiral, who gave a noncommittal shrug. Bogard tossed the cloth aside with an irritated growl and shoved a clean one into your hands. “Put pressure on that.”

“Yessir,” you said automatically, wincing as you pushed the rag against the wound.

“With all due respect, Garp, this entire farce was your idea,” said Borgard, straightening out from where he had been kneeling next to your cot to cross the room and begin rifling through drawers and cabinets. “I’m sure you can imagine what we’d have to deal with were we to return to headquarters and have to inform Sengoku that our operative was killed en route by a bow-wielding monkey.”

“Eh…” Garp shrugged a shoulder, his own expression souring at the thought. “But hell, at least we know why no one’s made it out of the place now. So we did get some information.”

“And suppose the target had been there?”

“He was.”

Both men froze when you spoke up—Garp halfway through pulling his cigar from his mouth to flick the ashes from the end, Bogard with a drawer halfway shut, both of them slowly turning their heads to look toward you.

“You should probably tell someone at headquarters to update his bounty poster,” you added, tapping at your chin. “He, ah, has a goatee now.”

Both men continued to regard you in stunned silence for several long, tense seconds, glancing at each other as your words slowly sunk in.

Garp’s face split into a grin, and his hearty laughter a moment later completely drowned out his partner’s weary sigh. Bogard slowly closed the drawer, turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Were you not instructed to keep your distance?” he said loudly, glowering over at Garp as the older man threw his head back in laughter. You sat up a bit straighter when Bogard turned his glare on you, crossing his arms, frowning at you with the same measure of exasperation. “Had you been seen—”

“I was careful,” you said quickly. “I noticed a light in one of the castle windows. Most of the place is in ruins but the castle is still standing. I only peeked through the corner of the window, he was asleep.”

You decided as his frowned deepened that it was best not to mention how long you had lingered in the windowsill.

“Sounds to me like the kid passed her test with flying colors,” said Garp, still chuckling to himself. He gave you a nod of approval, pointing toward you with the smoldering end of his cigar. “Good work, cadet.”

“It sounds,” said Bogard, pulling the drawer next to him open sharply, “as if our cadet was taking wholly unnecessary risks for the sake of an unnecessarily dangerous and unauthorized ‘test’ of her abilities.” Garp rolled his eyes at the indirect scolding, leaning against the wall of the infirmary again. “Needless to say,” he went on, fishing through the drawer and retrieving a suture kit before shoving it closed, “the next time any of your commanding officers sees fit to pose you with such a mission again…”

He grabbed a clipboard off of the counter, flipped over an empty medical report to its blank side, and tossed it onto the cot next to Garp, before heading back over to sit at the cot across from yours. You watched as he retrieved a large, curved needle and set to threading it, tossing a sharp look at you.

“…you are both advised and encouraged to run it by me first. Understood?” You nodded quickly as he pulled the cloth out of your hands and away from the expansive gash across your arm. “Good. Then you’ll relay what you witnessed during your reconnaissance, and our esteemed vice admiral will take down the report—”

“Why the hell do I have to—”

“Because you’re terrible at applying stitches,” Bogard snapped before Garp could finish his protest. The older man rolled his eyes, snatching up the clipboard and digging a pen out of his pocket. Bogard leaned over with the threaded needle in his hand and added, “This is going to hurt.”

“Probably not much more than nearly having my wing shot off,” you reasoned.

Garp snorted.

Bogard sighed, muttering something under his breath about being surrounded by idiots, before grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm straight, not bothering to give you any warning before jabbing the needle through your skin.

“Just stay still,” he said over the sharp hiss of air your drew in through your teeth at the pain, “and relay your report, cadet."

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

First Chapter Link again, for your convenience

[yoonyeon0]

another day, another general hcs 🥱

Hatsumi Sen General Hcs

let’s go!!

Hatsumi is another guy that can’t be bothered to make plans and if he does please feel honored! Your probably the only person he did this too 🤭

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Hatsumi can’t stand bugs. He finds them so gross and even if he’s a man, he’ll definitely scream like a girl and make anyone around him kill it.

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Hatsumi likes beer. I don’t know if this was obvious but he definitely drinks himself drunk whenever he DOES go out.

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Hatsumi doesn’t do skincare but somehow has the best skin ever. I swear, this man can do anything and everything to make his skin irritated but it just never happens.

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Hatsumi likes cats. Huge cat person over here. If he could, he would just be a cat dad and live in the forest somewhere.

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Hatsumi can definitely and will definitely play the flute. It’s a skill he picked up randomly and he’s gotten terribly good at it. (I don’t know where this came from but it’s been bugging me since 😭)

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Hatsumi can’t be faithful to anything; including women. If you give Hatsumi money and ask him to give it back, you’ll be waiting another 2 years just for 15 dollars.

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Hatsumi likes tattoos but is too much of a pussy to get one. If he wasn’t so much a pus pus, he’d probably get a four leafed clover. I don’t know why.

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Hatsumi is one of those guys that you can’t read no matter how good your intuition is. He is just unreachable in terms of dumbassery.

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Now, who would Sen listen to?

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Probably Sza and/or Jhene Aiko. He likes the way their voices sound smooth and how they’re so minimalist. He wouldn’t go to concerts but he has her SOS/Sailing Souls album. He also has a record player so he repeats their songs on it.

˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

That’s it!

i have a hate/love relationship with him.

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

[verai-marcel]

Rough and Tumble (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x GN!Reader / Halsin x GN!Reader, 18+)

Of course. Of course it was bound to happen. Me? Write smut for a new fandom? You knew I couldn't stay away.

Summary: You thought Astarion had rejected you, so you went elsewhere for pleasure. Turns out, you just hadn’t piqued his interest yet.

Author’s Notes: Have I beaten the game? No, when I wrote this fic, I was barely in the middle of Act 2. Am I romancing either Astarion or Halsin in my save file? Nope, I went for Gale. Am I making shit up about these characters just because I want to get railed by both? Fuck yes, absolutely. Buckle in for some wild, made-up characterization, all because I want to write super horny fanfic. (And because certain people have bullied me into writing this…) For the timeline, this takes place during the tiefling party in Act I, but forget the real timeline of character romances and just play along. Also, if you’re not familiar with my writing, I try to be as vague as possible about reader description in my gender neutral fics so that anyone can enjoy them. However, I do have a size kink in this one, so imagine you’re a smaller hero this time around. 

Tags: gender neutral reader, halsin x reader, size kink, rough sex, doggy style, gentle dom, some after care, astarion x reader, humiliation, degradation, name calling, sloppy seconds, cock gagging

Word Count: 4,545

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

--------------------

“It’s not you, you understand, it’s me.” A pause. “I have standards.”

Having been shut down so brutally, you shrugged and walked away, unwilling to partake in any further conversation with the infuriatingly attractive vampire.

It’s not like you even said anything about sleeping with him. He just kept talking, like he does, as if he didn’t want to listen to you. You wondered why you had let him bite you the first time, and the second, and the third time. You cursed your weakness to his not-so-subtle glances. 

He’d look over at you, his lips twitching as if he was stopping himself from saying something. So you would ask if he was hungry. And he’d give you this look. ‘No no, I’m fine,’ he’d say, looking away and frowning, making it apparent that he was not fine. You, in your infinite dumbassery, would immediately cave in and offer up your neck. Was it your need to take care of anyone you took under your wing? Was it your stupid bleeding heart?

You knew your little motley crew only shared one thing in common: a need to get the tadpole out of your skulls. But if anything brought people together, it was facing a common obstacle.

Except that not everyone shared your need to do the greater good. You had been making a name for yourself as an honorable mercenary, taking only the jobs that aligned with your sense of morality. Not everyone liked that, especially with the number of assassins that had been sent after you. But that was before you were taken captive aboard the mind flayer ship. Wrong place, wrong time.

Nothing you could do about that now. Face forward and carry on, that has always been your way. There was no reason to change that.

You found yourself walking towards Halsin, standing tall on the outskirts of the camp. He was quietly enjoying himself, a mug in his large hand. He called out your name gently as you approached.

“You do not look as cheerful as I expected on a night like this,” he said, his eyes roving over your face. “What is the matter?”

You sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“It must be something if it is making you frown so.” He stepped closer and put a hand on your shoulder. “Come, let us walk for a bit. Nature will bring perspective.”

You followed him quietly away from camp, away from the crowd and into the forest. Soon, only the peaceful sound of the trees rustling in the wind and insects chirping into the night surrounded you, the party far away. Halsin’s hand wandered from your shoulder to your back, his thumb rubbing slow circles. It was a soothing feeling, and you leaned into him, grateful for his warmth, even if you didn’t need it on this balmy summer night.

“I don’t know what goes on in his head,” you blather suddenly. “I thought he was coming onto me, but then he wasn’t, and while I was trying to figure out what he wanted, he said I was below his standards…”

You hadn't realized that you had stopped walking until you felt Halsin’s touch on your temples, gently massaging your headache away.

“Sounds like he didn’t know what to do with a gift like you,” he said casually.

Your eyes darted up to meet his. You were surprised, but pleasantly so, by the veneration in his gaze. A slight shift, and he was closer to you than he had ever come, the heat from his body radiating like a warm campfire. Cozy and safe, you had a sudden urge to lay your head on his chest and cuddle up to the big druid.

His fingers slowly traced the curve of your ears. “If there is anything, anything at all, that I can do for you, I will gladly do so.”

I want you to crush me—

You shook your head. “I’m alright. I just needed… this.” Leaning your head against his chest, you took a deep breath. He smelled of the forest, of the earth, of nature itself. Your nose twitched. There was a hint of something more, something primal in his scent that stirred you.

Halsin called out your name again. You looked up, and he looked at you with concern this time.

“I’m alright,” you repeated. You thought back to what he said. “What do you mean, didn’t know what to do with me?”

He smiled. “Perhaps he is flustered. Internally, of course. Gods forbid he show it. So he pushed you away once he felt conflicted.”

“Conflicted about what?”

“About manipulating you, of course.”

You frowned.

Halsin touched the two most recent little scars on your neck. Astarion had a tendency to bite a different spot every time, to prevent permanent scarring, he had said.

“I’m not…” you trailed off. Yes, you knew he had manipulated you into letting him bite you the first and second time. The third time… part of you had wanted it too. That time, he had snuck into your bedroll, holding you from behind. You could feel his fangs skim across the skin of your shoulder before he bit into the soft flesh behind your clavicle. His hand was wrapped around your mouth, stifling your groan as he fed, and much to your shame, you had felt the beginning of pleasure warming your lower body. You broke away from him before he could finish, turning back to him to apologize. But he was already getting up, walking away without a single word. You had caught him giving you one last look, a regretful frown, and you had assumed that he lamented having his meal cut short.

“Alright, maybe he is a little manipulative," you conceded. "But I know that."

"And yet you keep giving into him," Halsin said, without any judgment. 

You hung your head. "Yes."

Halsin tipped your chin with two fingers until you were looking up at him. His smile was understanding and tender. "It's alright to care for someone and give into their needs, as long as you take care of your own as well."

You blinked. "But I want…" Trailing off, your cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Like it or not, you had been thrust into the role of the unwilling leader of this ragtag band. What you needed didn’t exactly align with what the team needed from you. What the others needed you to be was a commander, controlling the situation ahead of you.

But what you wanted, needed, was someone to command you, just for a little while, so you didn’t have to constantly think three steps ahead. You looked up at Halsin and felt a sense of trust. He was older, wiser, and most importantly, willing.

"Go on," he coaxed. 

Swallowing, you pushed down your fear and spoke your true desires. "I want to let someone else be in control, just for a little while. I want…" You paused, taking a deep breath, drawing in the courage to continue. "I need to be fucked. Not made love to, not a gentle roll in the sack. I need something… more."

Looking up, you saw a desirous glow in Halsin's gaze. He considered your vague request for a moment before giving you a soft smile. "Is this something you'd like me to do for you?" 

You thought of the large druid holding you down, his hands around your wrists beside your head as he fucked you from behind like a wild animal, growling into your ear. His voice rumbled through your body. Take all of me, little one. Give me your pleasure until it overwhelms your luscious body. 

You blinked and the mental image vanished, but not the desire. "Yes," you answered breathlessly. "Please."

Halsin gently stroked your cheek. “Of course.” He leaned in, nuzzling your temple with his nose. He softly whispered, “if I get too rough, say ‘honey wine’, and I’ll stop.” He pulled away to look you in the eyes. “Understand?”

“Yes sir,” you said.

He gave you one last tender smile before he straightened his stance and took a step back. “Good,” he said in his arch druid voice, powerful, commanding. “Now, strip for me.”

You swallowed and began to take off all of your clothes at a languid pace, letting him enjoy the moment as each article of clothing came off your body. He circled around you, a small smile on his lips as his eyes roved up and down your body.

As you finally stepped out of your underwear and kicked it aside, you felt strangely free. Anyone could walk up and find you two. Yet he was fully clothed, while you were naked to the elements.

And it felt good.

Halsin placed his fingers on your belly and walked around you, his touch leaving a warm trail along your skin. When he was behind you, he stopped. His hand splayed across your lower abdomen and pulled you close.

You gasped at the feeling of his bulge against your bare ass. His leather breeches rubbed against your skin. His chest, though covered in his druid clothes, was warm and comforting. And because he towered over you, he could easily kiss the top of your head.

Taking one of your hands with his free one, he brought your fingers to his lips and kissed them. 

“Show me how you pleasure yourself,” he said, letting go of your hand. He kept you tight against his chest.

With your hands, you began to touch yourself how you liked, teasing yourself at first before pleasuring yourself, harder and faster, until you were panting, your head lolling back against his shoulder. Your knees were beginning to wobble, and you grabbed his thigh for support. Gods, he was like a tree trunk, thick and solid. Your moans were growing louder, and you covered your own mouth in shame as you continued to touch yourself. Your hand was slick from your arousal, the wet sounds echoing around you. Just a little more…

“Stop.”

You whined, but did as he bade.

He suddenly let you go, and you nearly fell to your knees if not for him grabbing your arm and keeping you upright. You could hear him undoing the laces of his breeches.

Then you felt him rest his shaft against the curve of your ass. He pulled on your hand and wrapped it around him, smearing the slick from your palm.

“That’s it. Stroke me.” His voice had taken on a deeper timbre. The voice of command.

You did as he said, running your hand up and down his cock. It was hot, hard as iron, yet felt like velvet to the touch. And so girthy as well. You could not wait to take him inside of you.

So focused on pleasuring him, you barely noticed when he began to prepare you, one finger slicked up and sliding in and out of you. He added a second, and a third, all the while caressing your body with his other hand, his lips never far from your skin. You stroked him faster, gripped him harder, but he touched your wrist and slowed you down. 

“Patience, little one,” he murmured. “Don’t end this before we begin.”

You nodded. 

“Good.” He placed a hand on your back and gently bent you over. “Hands behind your back. Grip your forearms.”

You did so, and he grabbed your arms like the reins of a horse. He pulled his fingers from you, and you whimpered, but soon they were replaced by the tip of his cock.

Halsin grunted, and his hips shot forward, filling you full of him in one hard stroke.

Before you could scream, his hand was over your mouth. 

“You don’t want everyone knowing how well you submit, do you?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Good. I’m going to let go of your mouth now. But stay quiet.” He gripped your arms with both hands now and began to move his hips. The first few strokes were slow and steady as he gauged how well you were opening up to his invasion. Then he sped up, dominating you with his strength, his hips slapping against your ass.

You couldn’t help yourself, you moaned and whimpered with each thrust.

“Can’t stay quiet, can you?” he gritted out, slowing his pistoning. Pulling out of you, he waved his hand and a soft bed of moss appeared on the ground. “On your hands and knees.”

As soon as you fell into position, he climbed over you, his chest against your back, one arm wrapped around your shoulder. He stuffed his cock inside of you once more with a deep growl, almost… bear-like?

You turned your head to look back at him.

His eyes were glowing a fiery yellow, a feral snarl on his face. 

“Halsin,” you whispered in awe, lust, tinged with a bit of fear.

He picked up on it immediately, the caring elf that he was. He took a breath, and the glow in his eyes began to fade.

“No, no!” you panicked, grabbing onto him and clutching at him like he was a life preserver in an icy cold ocean. You didn’t want him to go easy on you, didn’t want him to simmer down just because you were a little bit shocked. You wanted all of him, all that he could give. “Take me, please!”

The glow stopped fading. “Take you, little one?”

“Yes, please,” you begged. “Please.”

His only response was a low growl as his eyes glowed once more and his hips moved in a measured rhythm, his pace steadily increasing until you could barely draw a breath between each stroke.

“Such a good little lover,” he murmured. His lips caressed the shell of your ear as he rutted into you, the dichotomy of his soft moans to his hard thrusts making you lose yourself to this heavenly euphoria. The fevered trance of being fucked without having to think about anything at all was so freeing. You devolved into a mass of writhing and moaning, unable to control your volume any longer. The coil of desire within you was growing tighter, wound up with every thrust, every low, beastly grunt that Halsin gave.

You felt your hands and arms buckle, and you sank your chest into the soft moss beneath you, your ass still up in the air. The cool vegetation against your skin contrasted with the heat from the druid pounding into you from behind.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “Finish what you started before.”

Gleefully you reached down and stroked yourself eagerly, your body tensing as the ecstasy built higher and higher. You clenched around Halsin’s thick cock, and he rumbled with satisfaction. He sped up, driving himself into your body with wild abandon.

Your climax ran through you like lightning. One moment, you were at the top of the mountain. The next, you were free falling, pleasure guiding your wings as you soared with rapture. You spasmed below the large man, crying out into his arm. He held you tighter as he fucked you through your orgasm until your knees gave way and you collapsed onto the ground.

You felt like a blissful ooze, boneless and relaxed, but Halsin was speeding up, his breath hitching, his moans becoming deeper, more… animalistic.

“Do you want my seed within you?” he asked in nearly a growl.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, excited by the prospect. “Give me every last drop.”

He roared and pinned you to the ground, his hips jerking against your backside as he poured his essence into you. With one last push, he stayed inside of you for as long as he could, keeping part of his weight off you with one arm so he didn’t crush you. But the warmth, the comfort of his body felt so very nice. Like he was shielding you from the rest of the world for just this one moment, and you desperately needed it.

Halsin groaned, and he pulled away from you. Turning over, you looked to see him holding his arms, taking a deep breath.

“Halsin?”

“It’s alright. When my blood runs hot, my wildform… is harder to control.” He backed away. “I need to run around for a bit, until I’ve calmed down.” He looked up at you. “But I will wait until you are ready to return.”

You smiled. He was kind, thinking that you, an adventurer in your own right, savior of the grove, needed a guard. But it was sweet of him to be so considerate. “I’ll be alright.” You reached up and touched his arm. “Go, run wild. I’ll see you back in camp.”

You watched as Halsin transformed. No matter how many times you saw his bear form, it always took your breath away. The power, the pure might behind that fur. You had seen him tear goblins limb from limb with that power. But right now, he gently nuzzled your face before bounding away, his mighty roar echoing in the night. He exuded elation as he loped into the forest, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. It was cute.

Walking back to your pile of clothes, you leaned over to pick them up. Just as your hand gripped the fabric, you sensed something, or someone, in the trees. You let go of your clothes and grabbed a pebble nearby. With effortless speed, you flung the pebble into a nearby tree.

“Ouch. What was that for?”

“Get down here, Astarion.”

The pale elf gracefully leapt down from the tree and casually sauntered towards you. The only thing giving away his nonchalant look was the fact that the front of his pants looked a bit stretched.

He gave you a withering look as his gaze wandered up and down your naked body. He paid particular attention to the trail of Halsin’s seed dripping down your thighs.

“I never took you to be so… docile,” he said, a sly smirk on his lips. “Who knew you had it in you.”

You crossed your arms. “Had what in me?”

“Well, another man’s seed, for one.” He chuckled at his own comment. “But I was more impressed by your… willingness… to submit.”

His eyes flashed with a beguiling look and he stepped closer. Standing your ground, you ignored the flush of heat in your nether region as you stared back at him defiantly, until he was face to face with you. Damn his height, forcing you to tilt your head up.

“You should have told me what you needed, darling,” he purred. “I would have indulged you… for a price.”

You glared at him.

“Come now, don’t be offended. You’ve already given yourself to me for free. It would be gauche of me not to return the favor.”

Blood. He wanted to feed. The small puncture marks on your neck pulsed. And so did lower parts of you. But your annoyance with him made its way to your mouth first.

“I thought you had standards, Astarion.”

“Oh, but I do. However, I don’t mind lowering them for a little fun.”

You seethed for a moment. “Did it occur to you that maybe you’re below my standards?”

His eyes widened a bit at your vicious banter. Then he smiled knowingly and your stomach dropped. You knew from his look that he had something on you. He leaned in until his lips were a mere breath away from yours. “You think I didn’t notice the scent of your arousal the last time I bit you?”

You swallowed. Shit, he knew.

His eyes glanced down at his last bite mark. “You’ve already proven yourself to be my little fang slut. Why don’t you become my whore as well? I’ll pay for my meal with your pleasure.”

You should have been offended. Insulted. Outraged.

However, your body, relaxed after having been thoroughly fucked, betrayed you in the worst way. You flushed with carnal heat, your eyes dilated, and your breath hitched. And Astarion picked up on every last iota of your reaction.

“Well, looks like your body is much more honest,” he said in a low voice. His eyes glanced down at your lips for a moment before meeting your gaze. His lips grazed yours, so light that you barely felt it.

“Kneel.” His command, in a voice so low that you felt it as a rumble from his lips to yours.

You obeyed immediately, your eyes remaining locked with his.

He patted your head condescendingly. “Good little pet,” he purred. With one hand, he deftly freed himself from his pants.

As you began to lean forward, he tutted at you. “Stay still.”

You froze.

He smirked, a little bit of fang showing as he placed his hand on your head and tilted it up slightly. “Give me your hand,” he commanded, holding out his.

You put your smaller hand in his, and he placed it at the base of his cock. It grew slightly from your touch.

“Open your mouth,” he said softly. When you did so, he guided your head to him until you had engulfed him.

“Now you may move,” he said magnanimously, and you began to pleasure him as best as you could with your limited knowledge. Your eyes went up to his for a moment before you closed them, savoring the feeling of him growing larger and harder in your mouth.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes shot open again and you looked up at him. He gazed at you fondly, similar to how one would look at a beloved pet.

Then he shoved his cock down your throat.

You gagged and tried to push away, but the hand holding your head in place would not budge. Your eyes watered and you began to choke a bit.

“Relax your throat, darling. Breathe through your nose.”

You did as he said, and began to feel a bit better, but it was still difficult, controlling your gag reflex. Soon he released you, and you coughed, bringing your hand to your throat.

“Not ready for that, I suppose,” he said as he caressed your head and looked down at you, appraising you with one long look. His eyes lingered between your legs and his nostrils flared. You turned your head away, knowing that he could smell how aroused you were, and felt a bit of shame well up in your chest.

He held his hand out to you, as if to help you stand. You didn’t question why he wanted you to do so, you just took his hand and stood, somewhat shakily.

Leisurely, he circled around you until he was behind you. His hand went up to your throat, gently stroking it up and down, slowly, a whisper of a caress punctuated by moments of pressure in your most vulnerable points. He stepped forward, his chest to your back, and took a deep breath at your neck. He let his lips linger on your skin where your blood, sped up by his touch, lay closest to the skin.

“I can feel your pulse against my lips,” he murmured against your neck. “For some reason, I keep coming back to you.” His other hand caressed your bare backside for a moment before you felt him nudging himself between your legs. He pushed slightly, spreading you open. Your body accepted him easily, as if it was waiting for him.

“My filthy little pet,” he teased. “Any normal being would be resting by now.” He slid further inside of you, making you gasp. “But you’re anything but normal, are you?”

You wanted to snap back at him, but then he gripped your hip, anchoring you in place as he pushed himself into you, all the way to the hilt. Your voice cracked, your comeback dying on your lips. You could only let out a wordless cry of surrender.

Astarion’s dark chuckle filled your ears. “Who would have guessed?” He pulled his hips back, leaving only the head inside, just to tease you. “The hero of the grove.”

He slammed back into you, chasing away your breath once more. “You’re just a deviant, aren’t you?” His words were punctuated by his thrusts, reducing you to nothing more than a quivering mess, slave to his touch. 

Your mind began to blank, and though the logical part of you screamed to keep your wits about you, another part of you screamed back: you were tired. You just wanted to be. And the pleasure he was giving you, despite his cruel words, or perhaps, because of them, was overwhelmingly good.

The grip on your throat tightened just a bit. Not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that he was in command. He could end you with one snap. You were foolish to let him have you in such a compromising position.

The light scrap of his fangs on your skin made you gasp, your heart rate skyrocketing. Instinctively, your body knew he was a predator, and you were his prey. His tongue flicked out to lick your pulse. He trapped your arms behind your back, his arm looped at your elbows, forcing you to arch your back.

“How will your blood taste, tinged with ecstasy, I wonder,” he mused, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard him. He gripped your jaw and forced you to look up at him, His eyes, scarlet like the blood moon and twice as hypnotizing, were dilated with need. 

“Come for me, pet.”

You had no choice. You simply did as he wanted, moving your hips shamelessly, sinking down on his cock over and over until you began to feel your climax spinning towards you.

Just as that blissful tide came rising up within you, a sharp pain came down on your neck. Your brain, addled with so many things, couldn’t handle it. The sting melted into the euphoria until you couldn’t tell one from the other. 

“Astarion!” you cried, whether to beg for mercy or to beg for more, you weren’t sure.

His hips slammed into you harder and you felt him empty himself inside of you, just as he moaned against your neck.

You felt yourself falling, and wondered if it was you, or the afterglow.

Slowly, too slowly, you realized it was your body, and you braced for impact.

But it never came.

With a surprising amount of strength, Astarion held you, carefully letting you sit down on the ground. He knelt down with you, and without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He froze for a moment before awkwardly patting your back.

That was… strangely not like him, you thought. Looking up at him, you were met with a curious expression on his face. 

“Astarion?”

He blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced by his usual rakish smirk. You felt a little sad that he had put his mask back on.

“Darling. We’ll have to try that again sometime,” he said, licking the corner of his lips to catch the last drop of your blood.

You cocked your head. “Was… was it that good?”

“I’m not sure,” he said mischievously. “I’ll need another…taste… to find out.”

You closed your eyes and smiled. You knew what he meant.

I’d like to do this again.

“Any time,” you replied.

------------------

End Notes: Throughout my writing this, I ended up doing a tiny bit of research (and by research, I mean I looked up the sex scenes on pornhub), so I hope this was at least somewhat hot for some of you. Thanks for reading!

[naavispider]

hey! I've been following you for a while now and i just wanted to say that i absolutely love your writing and check your blog almost everyday 😔🙏🏻

anyways i was wondering if you'd write something fluffy where spider gets the hiccups while out in the forest with the recoms. He acts tough and tries to hide it, but the recoms take notice of course. They take turns suggesting increasingly ridiculous 'cures' (gulping down lots of water, holding your breath + spinning around etc) which don't work, to their amusement and spider's growing embarrassment, and Quaritch ends up having to step in as the Responsible Father before things get out of hand.

+10 for general recom dumbassery

+20 for a cute father-son moment between quaritch and spider

+30 if spider's hiccups actually go away! 🤭

-b

Hi b! Thanks for asking! Sorry it took me a while 💞

"Son of a-"

Spider's curse was drowned out by Wainfleet's booming laughter throughout the clearing.

"Something funny, Baldo?" Spider dared.

Wainfleet tried to dim his guffaws, but was only drawing more attention to himself from Zdog and Prager. "This kid, man!" Wainfleet chuckled, addressing the rest of the recom squad's curious and amused stares. "He's had the hiccups for the last twenty minutes and tried to hide it!"

Instantaneously, the watching recoms' faces burst into matching expressions of mirth.

"Aw, baby Spidey has the hiccups?" Zdog mocked.

Spider seethed. He had been trying to conceal them for this exact reason. He knew the squad would be jerks. He grit his teeth and turned around on the fallen tree trunk, facing out of the clearing and ignoring the squad.

"Hey, kid!" Lopez called. Spider didn't turn around. He knew he was being mocked. "I got a cure." Spider's ears perked up. He slowly twisted around to hear it.

"You gotta hold your breath," Lopez continued, walking over so he didn't have to shout, "and spin around ten times while looking at the sky."

"I'm not doing that, asshat!" Spider yelled. Did they think he was dumb?

Lopez looked offended. Fike stepped in. "It's true Spidey," he said. "Something about..." he looked at Ja, who was smirking from beside the fire. "Stretching your diaphragm! Right, Ja?"

Spider looked at the medic for his opinion. "That's correct," Ja admitted. "You do have to stretch your diaphragm..."

Lopez and Fike cheered, and Zdog had begun to laugh again. "Come on, Spider! Give it a go!"

Spider cussed them all in Na'vi, hating them for their stupid 'cures', but he really was feeling desperate. If he didn't embarrass himself by listening to their suggestions, the humiliation of them all listening to his hiccups would do the job anyway.

"Fine," he growled, getting up and taking a huge gulp of filtered air, throwing his head back to the sky and spinning. The recoms began to count him, and Spider knew they were doing so deliberately slowly.

"... seven, eight, nine, ten!" They cheered, and Spider stopped spinning, letting himself come to a wobbly standstill. The world spun in front of his eyes, and his legs suddenly felt like jelly. "Woah," he said, trying to find his balance as he stepped forwards.

The recoms roared with laughter as he faceplanted a mushroom.

"Shit," he cussed, struggling to get back to his feet and deciding to just sit down with his head between his knees. Only a few seconds later, the next hiccup came.

"You bastards!" he groaned, raising his head to glare at the squad, laughing like a pack of hyenas. Spider cast around, looking for Quaritch, but the Colonel must have been out looking for dinner or securing the perimeter.

"Alright, alright," Wainfleet snickered. "Have some of my water. Just take small gulps." He got up and passed the bottle to Spider, who took it after a second's hesitation.

"Wait, have you tried drinking upside down?" Zdog butted in.

"Upside down?" queried Ja, a skeptical look on his face.

Zdog's face was reminiscent and confident. "Oh yeah, my granny swore by it, bless her heart." Spider couldn't tell if she was being serious.

"Is that gonna-" another hiccup "-stretch my diaphragm, yeah?" Spider asked sarcastically, fed up of her already.

"It will!" she replied earnestly. "If you're constantly taking small gulps without pausing for air, it forces you to hold your breath and stretches your lungs out!

Spider hiccuped again, sealing the nail in his coffin. "How am I gonna drink upside down?" He asked. Seeing the glint in Zdog's eye, and the conspiratorial smirk between Lopez and Fike, he immediately sussed them out. "You are not holding me!"

"You're a right buzzkill, kid," Wainfleet murmured.

"I can do a handstand fine by myself," Spider ignored him. "But how am I gonna drink anything?"

Prager seemed to be two steps ahead of him, already pulling out a straw from one of the recom's gross nutrient shakes that came in cardboard cartons. "Voila."

"Jesus," Spider muttered, eyeing the straw and the devilish gleam in each recom's eye as they stared at him. "You know I'll have to take the mask off?" He hiccuped again, which only strengthened their resolve, making them even more insufferable.

Spider made up his mind. "If any of you dickwads touches me I swear to Eywa..." he warned them, approaching Prager and bringing the bottle with him. "I can only hold it for like, thirty seconds."

"I'm right here with the mask, whenever you give the word," Wainfleet assured him.

"Fuck. Am I really doing this?" Spider muttered to himself stupidly.

"Yeah, baby!" Cried Zdog, who had throughly enjoyed the whole saga, providing nothing but ill-timed sniggers throughout.

Spider got into position, ready to go into a handstand. He addressed Wainfleet. "Once I'm balanced, take the mask off." Hiccup. "When I say, put it back on and not a moment later, you got it? I don't fancy dying."

Prager spoke next. "And I'll hold the bottle up for you, so you don't need to use your hands."

Spider looked around at the group, who were clearly having the time of their lives over his suffering. "I hate every one of you," he muttered, before going down on his hands and pushing himself up into a handstand. He could hold one since he was five - it was just something he was good at. Funnily enough, no Na'vi he'd ever met was able to do it. He'd spent ages trying to teach Kiri and Lo'ak and even Tuk, but they just couldn't. It seemed his useless skill was finally coming in handy.

He waited for the next hiccup to pass, took a few deep breaths, then nodded at Wainfleet. "Okay, take the mask off."

Wainfleet did so, and Prager immediately moved the water within sipping distance of Spider's mouth. He began sipping small sips, without pausing for breath, just like Zdog had said, until-

"PUT YOUR MASK BACK ON!"

Spider immediately fell down from his handstand - somewhat gracefully - and took the mask back that Wainfleet was hurriedly handing out to him.

Quaritch was standing on the edge of the clearing, a yerik slung over his shoulders and staring at the group with murder in his eyes. He deposited the animal down by the fire and stormed across the grass. Spider pressed the seal on the exopack and cool air flowed back into his mask. He took a hesitant step back from the Colonel, the man's anger palpable.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He yelled, addressing the recoms, but mostly, Spider noticed, Wainfleet. Nobody answered. "Taking his mask off! ARE! YOU! INSANE!"

All noise had vanished from the clearing. Spider could have heard a pin drop. He didn't want to even shuffle his feet for fear of making too much noise. Quaritch's roars had rooted everybody in place in shock.

Quaritch looked directly at Spider. "Come here!" he demanded, and Spider hastily obeyed. "Sit down!" Quaritch barked, removing Spider from the line of bollocking. He continued to shout at the recom squad for what felt like half an hour, when in reality it couldn't have been any longer than a minute. He was so angry, even Spider knew better than to snigger at the looks of embarrassment on the recoms' faces. They looked like a line of children that had misbehaved at school.

When Quaritch had finished, he took a moment to catch his breath, then turned back to Spider. Spider automatically flinched away, but there was no need. The Colonel reached out a huge hand and placed it on Spider's shoulder. "You should know better, kid." His tone was feather light compared to the one he'd used on the squad. "What if you'd hiccuped without your mask on?"

Spider hadn't actually considered that. Until Quaritch had mentioned hiccuping, Spider had completely forgotten about it, and only now did he realise... it had worked.

"Sorry," Spider mumbled, only half sarcastically. He looked up and made eyes with Zdog over Quaritch's shoulder. Although the woman was thoroughly scolded, she still maintained that mischievous glint in her eye, and Spider knew in that moment that she was gloating.

She'd won.

Spider's hiccups had been cured.

[sonderfairy]

Some of the many Cavetown songs I associate with tmp Yay

Devil Town- Live at Hoxton Hall is so fern alsjrhfhfhfhfth like the slight hauntedness like it’s giving alone mentally ill but like getting better but also worse uhhhh best way to disrobe it is watching a barn burn while in the back seat of a car when you were little, in the pitch darkness. That mentally ill feel. Also like all devil town versions are fern so uh yeah

Dirty Devil Town Fern has taste and this is just his mental state in the recent pages tbh

Alone -acoustic is as well like bro def convinced themself that they like being alone and the acoustic ver is just preference lmao

Let them know they’re on your mind I don’t need to explain this I mean like sweet silly gay what else is there to say

Nostalgia in my BedRoom like the chorus gives Arcade vibes idk why maybe just the dumbassery tbh but like very squishy coded chorus

Boys Will Be Bugs

I mean. I don’t need to explain even like the title says it

Psychometry he doesn’t like cars, and the general overthinkiness and confusion and not knowing the future, and that could apply to both current and freshly cursed fern

Sweet tooth this is one of my fav songs like it’s sweet silly goofy idk how to describe it hhhhh um they gay and yk stuff also the tone of the ending part just gives fercade

888 like ferns life was pretty boring before he found a friend (and something more later on wink wink I’m dying just kiss already please I know it’ll be ages ao3 please)

I Miss My Mum idk mom dead yeehaw

1994 he didn’t choose the curse or his mom dying or being exiled, decomposing in their room? Like being stuck in the cave and forest and eating mushrooms that decompose stuff?? Trying to love the person he was when he was born, well there’s the magipenea and bro feels bad about it, mum and dad in live like it’s 1994? Moms dead. Needs a friend and their mental health is shit (mood), waking up on the wrong side of town is like in the wrong body and universe (real), blamed a child in a Daisy crown? That’s fern when picking up the crown that caused it, even though he didn’t know what would happen

Gray space bro misses when life was easy

Juno this is just Sonya and Noxie ok it’s a song about a cat what can I say

Everything is temporary (sticks and stones) Uhhhhh it’s silly wacky sweet therefore fercade but especially Arcade

Wasabi they are dumb gays who miss each other constantly

if there are typos uhhh this is rly late for me I just had to do this

this isn’t even all of the songs help-

Woah, I love the thought behind all of these!!

I associate these songs especially with TMP and are some of my favorites:

⭐️ let them know they’re on your mind (both acoustic or normal versions, i love this song to death)

888 (love the soft part in the middle, I imagine them dancing in the forest together)

Devil Town (it’s on Fern’s playlist, it’s just very them idk)

⭐️ Things That Make It Warm (this is SO FERCADE oh my god

I’ll have to listen to some of the songs you listed cause I don’t know all of them

[robotlesbianjavert]

with how afo constructed "shigaraki tomura" as a person. how much influence do you think afo had on the league meeting shigaraki? for years we've all been wondering how spinner was recruited with no experience. it's really suspicious with this last chapter......

(sorry if there's some obvious plot hole with this tidbit. I don't really read bnha anymore lol.)

my genuine headcanon that horikoshi can't take away from me ever is that spinner didn't join the league through giran like dabi and toga, and presumably the rest of the gang, did. he just knocked on every shady looking door in the area until he got the right place. and all for one cannot hope to touch upon that kind of reckless dumbassery.

but overall it's like. so obviously he would have been around for the conception of lov 1.0 (usj shenanigans) and lov 2.0 (the vanguard action squad at forest training) and kind of lov 2.1 (kamino era) and one can put forward the argument that afo had influence over like, who giran brought forth to shigaraki to consider for the gang, and who shigaraki ultimately picked. there's a basis there in the league origins, if he's going to be THAT much of a helicopter mom. he can also have influence over the league in that era post-plf raid and pre-current final battle. most obviously over spinner, but even if he didn't give dabi and toga quirks and directly manipulate their fidelity to shigaraki, he's still would have rallied them and most others up for that final battle.

but at the same time - afo could only have so much influence over why they chose to join the league, and chose to keep following shigaraki, why they want to strike back against a society that rejected them. the only person in the league he was directly historically involved with was dabi, who out of the league is probably the least close to shigaraki. during his prison era, afo couldn't influence how things shook out during the overhaul arc and how toga and twice became more loyal to each other and to shigaraki (hell even with the overhaul quirk reveal these leaks, and knowing that afo previously told shigaraki about overhaul the gangster, he had no say in shigaraki and overhaul actually meeting - that was twice). he had no say in the league's altercation with the mla, over spinner choosing to following shigaraki above all else, over redestro deciding to entrust the mla/plf to him. he didn't have anything to do with compress deciding to go assless in order to help shigaraki, spinner, and the rest escape the hero's clutches.

and like, even with all the claims he's making in these leaks, realistically all afo can do is set up scenarios. can he really actually control how tenko, or anyone else, reacts to those scenarious? sure apparently (UGH) he can have tomo-chan and mikkun set up to get hit by a truck so that tenko can save them and start getting dreamy ideas about heroism. but also tenko straight up could have just not saved them. he could have just been like wow that was a scary thing to witness. kids my age getting run over. that sucks so much. and then just go on with his life. tenko wanted to save those kids and then hang out with them! and he wants to be a hero to the league and other villains! if horikoshi wants to argue that this is all solely a result of afo's manipulations, then it's a really cruel form of character assassination.

but i am steadfast in that spinner was not a direct afo-approved league member. he just saw him and was like well, it can't hurt to let tomura have some vapid arm candy around. surely this won't result in anything.

[faeriecinna]

WIP Questionnaire (2.0)

I was tagged a second time by @finchwrites, so I'll do this for my second WIP too.

Project.Ink

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

As I mentioned in this post, as someone from an Irish family, I wanted to write a novel that paid homage to our folklore, so I decided to mess with the general concept of a 'changeling'. Rowan came to be when I tried to think up a character that was a faerie who, for some reason, believed they were a human - and the rest followed.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Not so much a theme song, but Rowan and Killeen's song is definitely Dying Star by Ashnikko and Ethel Cain. I'd probably have it playing in the background when Killeen realises who Rowan actually is to her.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

Rowan was the first character I created for this story so I do have a soft spot for her in my heart, but because I knew I wanted this to be a queer story, when I created Killeen I basically just turned my ideal woman into a lesbian fae warrior so??? of course I would die for her?? Plus being The Inquisitor for The Sidhe Court is kind of a slay, no?

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Never read it, but from what I've heard I can only assume ACOTAR peeps would be into it. If anyone has ever watched Zone Blanche/The Black Spot (spooky french supernatural murder drama), that is EXACTLY the vibe I'm going for - just Irish (and if you haven't watched it you should).

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

There are two parallel storylines in the story - Rowan's storyline when she is taken into the Fae realm, and the second storyline that follows the aftermath in her small town when her parents report her missing. I struggle a fair bit with actually writing the aforementioned second storyline because I get so caught up with all the lesbian dumbassery that I forget there is in fact a second layer to my plot.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Crows, ravens and other corvids are ALWAYS a motif in my stories. The Sidhe also have a strong supernatural connection to the flora and fauna so not only are there several different kinds of forest dwelling animals in the story, but most of the characters can communicate with them!

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Honestly for a fantasy book my setting/map is rather small so most of the travel is done by foot. I guess there'll probably be a few police cars involved and maybe some kind of sailboat at some point lmao

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

In the earlier stages of the first draft atm. I started this as a passion project only about 6 months ago even though I had the plot idea for a couple of years.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

Queer fae. Need I say more? Also I'm hoping the fact that there are a lot more spooky/horror elements to this story, as opposed to a lot of faerie narratives, will interest people. It's all going to be set in Ireland as well so that's another demographic that I hope will enjoy it!

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

It's a queer story where the characters are just... queer.... and in love... there's no homophobia, no "I'm gay and that's okay and normal!", no having to come out - it just is right from the get go, a gay story about gay girls being gay without that being the focal point of the narrative - so I hope that if it ever gets published, it'll be a book that queer people can go to when they need a spooky gay fantasy without any of the trauma and alienation that we feel as queer people irl. I hope people connect to the story and take some comfort in the darkness.

And I'm gonna tag @sleepywriter00 @akiwitch and @eccaiia

(blank under the cut)

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

[everybody-loves-purdy]

Okayyy, so it took a lot of thought and consideration to get here, bc TOO MANY CHARACTERS lmao, but here they are!! (Some) Warrior Cats as Hatchetfield Trilogy Characters!! Part 1. Also for clarification; The Guy who didn’t like musicals (TGWDLM)// Black Friday (BF), NPMD, Nightmare time (NT). Wilbur Cross/Uncle Willey: Darktail or/and Sol. They both have the ‘culty aspect’ to them just like Willey does and i Can see Darktail singing ‘Made in América’ to Onestar, or Sol to Leafstar. (Is in BF) Linda Monroe: Mapleshade as a person lol. Perfect voice for her, plus the entitlement and i Can SEE her singing ‘adored’ once she is in the Dark Forest. (BF) Ted Spankoffski: Appledusk. General asshole and cheater lol. But probably without the sexual jokes, just general assholery, dumbassery abd death. (TGWDLM) Becky Barnes: Reedshine as a human. She is nice, and specifically, redhaired. I Can only picture her being red lol. That or Charlotte Sweetly. (BF) Man in a Hurry (Barry Swift): Runningwind!! He is in a hurry! He’s fast. Need i say more? (His lines most of the time are ‘and i’m in a hurry!’// ‘Give me that fucking doll, i’m in a hurry.’) (BF, specifically for those lines) Lex: Either Ivypool, Hollyleaf or Needletail while not entirely similar (both Holly and Ivy have living/caring families, especially siblings and Needle has Violet), i Can see them being a bit jaded and sarcástic. But regardless, i Can see Holly singing ‘Black Friday’ as she dies, while Ivy and Needle sing the specific part about Hannah (Lex’s younger sister) and it could apply to her realizing that Dove did care for her/sacrificing her life for Violet. (BF)

———————————————————————

I still haven’t gotten around to watching Black Friday, I’ve been meaning too for a while though, I was actually considering doing so either today or tomorrow lol, so I’ll come back to this one when I’ve seen it! But I really like the look of this so far even if I don’t have full context.

[forest-posts-and-reblogs]

would you like 48% off a kidney an old man gave me?

literally why the fuck are you accepting kidneys from old men have you not heard of stranger danger. also yes

[ratsoh-writes]

https://www.tumblr.com/ratsoh-writes/756940621045972992/i-remember-reading-this-ye-olden-story-and-the

One of the big points in the story is that the main character is unironically very dumb:

-They forget their own name once

-They accidentally sell their soul to a demon in a dream for a horse. A horse that turns out to suck and be murderous, so not even a worthwhile deal

-They were armor made of sticks of all things??? Like why sticks, that’s how you get splinters not to mention forest twigs will do little to protect against damage

-They stab a guy and doesn’t realize that stabbing people makes them die.

-They gain invincibility through a magic ring and don’t even realize that their suddenly not getting injured anymore

And much more dumbassery occurs throughout the story, to hilarious effect, though the story treats it seriously rather then as comedic

Oh gosh, if one punch man had an intelligence score of 3

[lanabenikosdoormat]

Lilac, steel and forest! 😊

CATOOOOOO this was out of pocket (thank you i appreciate it so much 🫶🏻) i hope my dumbassery and tomfoolery is most endearing to not just you, but everyone else!

super honored you you think my work is beautiful i will sob right NOW

[a-queer-query]

radioactive chemicals green, forest green and maroon for the ask game mutuals thing :D

Radioactive chemicals green: "hey homie dude bro bestie" + forest green: "if someone told me u were a cryptid I would be surprised but not like. That much" + maroon: "we are equally dumbasses and ily for that (among other things)

Sup!

Alas I have not yet achieved cryptid status, maybe one day. I'd accept that one as a compliment lol

And what's life without a bit of dumbassery?

<3333

[notmuchtoconceal]

- Yo Broey. Got a minute?

- Several. What's on your mind, Brother Jacek?

- Not much, tell you the truth, bro. It's more like … I can feel myself engaged in a process wherein I return, with sometimes subtle, yet sometimes extreme, variance to the same spot, with a repetition which would seem to be carving a shape into my mind, or like … mind being abstract, the neuronal circuitry from which my mind seems projected.

- You fear your ruminative thinking is trampling hiking paths through the bright and splendid open field of your mind, leaving spiderwebs as seen in aerial which not only jostle the natural beauty of your thought's own carriage and environs, but may tempt you, again and again, down roads which you are better sealing with fresh sod and seed, to create simply uniform splendor?

- Yeah, so. Not sure if if I'm more impressed with how well I seemed to articulate something which can't really be said to be real, as it occurs only in a lil TV window inside my skull nobody else can see into, or like… if it's that you were able to just run with that and carry the metaphor … the metaphor which I'm now realizing is simply the practical marriage of image to idea, and not like … I don't know. A way for people to trick you into thinking one thing is another thing. It's more like… a thing is already more than one thing and by constructing our language in certain ways, we can highlight rather than obscure what seem to be such true and beautiful terrors. 

- The true error of time is hardcoded into the nature of linear sequence. That one moment must be one moment, isolated from the whole, biases our readings of subject and event, for it forces us to extrapolate from an incomplete picture; the negative space of which we may fill only with our own projections. One may hold multiple ideas in their head at the same time, ponder disparate subjects near-simultaneously out of time, but one may only speak one thing at a time, feel one feeling with its completeness at a time. The intensity of a thing being complete within the moment, but that completeness being far from the completeness of the whole, induces such palpitating anxiety in some poor souls. It seems as though people change, rather than simply reveal. It makes one think all change is permanent, rather than simply one reaction to an action, waiting to be re-fulfilled by a corresponding and reciprocal reaction which is itself an action. 

- Sometimes it's like I feel real fuckin high when I talk to you, bro. Even though I know I'm sober. It's like I feel sober. But I'm also definitely fuckin high. There's a dizziness. There's shakes. The blood is rushing through my face and my teeth are orchestra pits waiting to line up and string. Yet also… I'm still totally clear-headed. My capacity to think is not at all diminished; in fact, it feels subtly to incomprehensibly vastly increased. Feels totally casual, though, like, yeah… Right now, I'm sorta leanin into how awestruck I am, but as I was sayin that shit, it's like … it felt totally normal, and I think there was only a second afterward where I was like … huh.

- Truthfully, Brother Jacek, you likewise induce a strange paradox in me wherein I feel more totally myself by absolutely diminishing myself. There are times where you are so fascinating to consider, I would simply like to give myself all time and be beguiled by your speech, for every word feels like the unsprawling of a sonic pattern which reveals the true boundless expanse of that open grassland that you are! To think, even now, I can hear the deep forest calling beyond!

- I'm the cultural inheritor to the proud Knights of Dumbassery, bro. Where I come from, people don't talk this way. I find it hard to believe people talk this way where you're from either.

- Where I come from, people only talk this way in books.

- Pretty as I picture.

- Where I am, I would prefer many more to talk this way on-platform. 

- Put your words in my mouth, bro.

- My foreign tongue tantalizing you, tip to tip, to tunnel into your darkest recesses.

- Turn all syntax into sodomy, gushing flourishes of grapevines and goat dick.

- An herbaceous cheese to warm our spread. The spelt sacrament of us, flavored by the purest and the blackest salts; volcanic springs in which we let seep our tea.

- Take me, bro. I'm a slack jawed mute fit only to drool and flex for you. 

- You're a majestic steed. You will take me far, riding you long into the night, til upon the cliff edge you rear up so safe and well-reigned in your bridle, together we meet the rising dawn.

- My king … mount me as a knight, depart me as a God. 

- To heaven you will come with me. I would not leave behind such a loyal friend.

- Bro.

- There.