#people I mention lel

[klimtskuss]

how many siblings do you have? did you always have to share a room?

Just one and yeah until she moved out we've always shared a room. We've also shared a room with my mom until I was like 8.

[mai-mai-lim]

"Excuse me, Mr... Min? Henry Seung-jae Min?" "Stickmin." "... right. Mr Stickmin, are you aware of the Toppat Orbital Station and its existence?" "What about it?" "It seems that the clan itself has gone quiet for more than 2 weeks. There are no raids or any activity coming from them. Suspicious if you ask me." "..." "Do you happen to have cause this... situation?"

hmmm i itched to draw henry with sunglasses for a while now and doodled him chilling on the beach or smth. halfway i realized: wait a minute, isnt this just free man henry?

also enjoy this little dialogue, just wanna bring back my henry's name headcanon heh, have fun thinking who's the other person talking

Without sunglasses and some tidbit about Henry's real name below:

he looks like he's annoyed lmao

also Henry doesnt actually dislike his real name, just that well, criminal life and all he rather not hear it. Only times he doesnt mind are in timelines where he's actively in the gov, but he still prefers only close friends and lover(s) call him seung-jae

ps: in toppat timelines he completely buried the name down to the earth's core >:)

[ramshacklerumble]

honestly one of the biggest questions i had in regards to vice housewarden deuce was: so is the hat a vice thing or a trey thing?

and once again consulting my lil circle of friends, i landed on it actually being a cater thing. trey’s whole thing is that he doesn’t like to stand out or be noticed so i thought it was funny that he just walked around with a hat when no one else did. the thought was cater was who suggested trey wore a hat so people could tell he’s was vice, trey objected, but in the very few bets trey has ever lost against cater he winds up wearing the hat.

deuce continues the legacy, believing the hat was just part of the uniform. he doesn’t realize this isn’t the case until the seniors drop back around when the sdc is back and trey has to break it to him. at that point tho, it’s already become a thing, and deuce continues to wear the hat.

that aside, the way deuce became vice was pretty simple. ace asked him to. in regular ace fashion though, he went: well, who ELSE was i gonna ask? it’s not like i gotta lotta options.

but we all know that even if he did, deuce would’ve been his choice anyway.

i mentioned in the tags of the previous post that deuce is constantly on ace’s ass over his housewarden duties— but unlike ruggie and jamil who ran around doing everything for their housewardens— deuce simply enforces. deuce holds him accountable. and this is generally what deuce does in the grand scheme of the dorm as well.

when ace gives an order, deuce ensures this is carried out and he’s rather good at it. it’s something i wanna explore more during his sophomore year as by the time he’s a junior i feel deuce is far more at peace with who he is and how he uses his past experiences, but because deuce is far more empathetic and willing to be more open with others, dorm members find themselves listening to deuce more than they do ace. (i have a trio of triplet ocs who only exclusively listen to deuce, even when riddle was still around, and it’s because deuce had come to accept his hotbloodedness and learned how to use it to connect with others.)

deuce is aware he doesn’t have the sharp wit ace does or the commanding presence riddle did, but his interpersonal skills are leagues beyond.

he’s more at ease with letting his more passionate side come out when he needs to put his foot down and he’s a fantastic motivator. while he might be second in command, i like the idea of junior year really honing his leadership skills that he eventually takes with him when he sets his sights on the arcane response unit. you can pry high ranking a.r.u officer!deuce from my cold dead hands :)

gently tagging @mundaneasphyxia since you asked so nicely lel this wasn’t going to be a subject i dwelled much on as it’s kinda just part of hashing out timelines for my ships and stuff but like hey if anyone else wants to ask bout anything they’re curious about regarding this go right ahead i guess

[tiredemzz]

Basically me rambling about my version of Ben in my AU- enjoy :)

•

•

•

BENJAMIN ‘DOVER’ DROWNED HCS IN MY AU:

- Ben is basically a fan of anything, legit mention exe games and this boi will run towards you and say “YOU HEARD OF EXE GAMES?! So have I!”

- Legit hates his childhood, his dad (I mean come on, who wouldn’t?)

- Do not call him Benjamin, he hates that name bc it reminds him of his dad- who wasn’t a good man towards Ben

- Ben owns a drawing tablet that he hides from the creepypasta’s bc he doesn’t want to be teased about having a drawing tablet

- Drinks soda or juice, hates drinking water. Doesn’t mind drinking chocolate milk tho.

- He vibes to basically FNF music, metal/rock music and video game music. Think of Mic of Time, he loves that FNF mod sm. Also Terrible Fate- that’s also an FNF mod that he likes!

- He legit can’t cook or bake anything, he doesn’t trust himself in the kitchen.

- He’s not a perv, he’s sometimes a gentleman bc slender teached him on how to act like one.

-He’s also 16-17, so basically a teen. Not a 12 yr old.

-Big fan of creepypasta land, laughs at the Ben character that he sees but when he sees the MLP video.. he’s like ‘this Ben guy is a brony? Respect.’ Any RPG maker game would catch this boy’s eye, for example Ao Oni.

-A mama’s boy, 100%

-Bi basically, pronouns are he/them/him. Also he’s 5”6-5”7 basically.

- A childhood friend of Anon’s, also Jeffery! (Please do not ship Ben and Jeff bc Jeff is aroace in my AU.)

- Definitely used to Anon’s rambling and loves it sm.

- Wears fucking baggy clothes, no questions asked.

- Basically acts like a younger brother towards Jeff and Sal :)

- A Sally Face Fan, he basically can relate to Sally Face. Also he relates to Finn from adventure time, he relates to anyone with his hair color pretty much.

-Basically owns graphic tees, he loves graphic tees.

-Favorite weather for him as to be winter and fall, he hates summer sm.

-His parents got sadly divorced and he personally would rather head to his mother’s house, then stay with his horrible father.

-He’s also a sweetheart sometimes <3

-He changed his last name to Dover bc he hates the last name named Lawmen but it slowly came his middle name lel

- He wears precings, no questions asked.

- His voice sounds like a glitch almost, a bit deep but not to deep. It’s a little bit high pitched.

- He still uses cleverbot to mess with the players that uses it to try and summon him.

- He doesn’t go though other people’s electric devices but he would do it to mess with his victims, not the creepypasta’s that are in the mansion.

•

•

•

And that’s all u need to know about my version of Ben in my AU <3

[starflungwaddledee]

Hey star! Me again! How does your starstruck shipganza work? Do we just submit an OC to ship with Starstruck? I'm very much a dumb dumb so I don't know lel

hello boa!! great to hear from you!!

and omg nonono you're not being dumb or anything, i was pretty vague about this previously and only kinda mentioned it off-hand in tags. the idea behind the shipaganza is to help me explore some different dynamics (more or less romantic) with starstruck to see how i feel about shipping her as a whole, and so i was admittedly pretty nervous and wiffle-waffley about it overall.

but if it helps, i am allowing both canon suggestions and OC suggestions for the starstruck dee shipaganza! now that it's a full 'event' i should be more transparent, so here's a few rules!

🎀 any suggested characters must be adults in a suitable age bracket. this goes for OCs and canon characters. consider starstruck dee to be in the 25-35 age range; i think she could smooch into an older bracket, but i would not go younger than this. 🎀 when suggesting OCs, only the creator/owner of the oc can suggest that oc, unless you get clear permission from the creator. if an artist suggests a sona in particular, then for the same reasons as above, i explicitly need the artist to be an adult. 🎀 no nsfw at all. flirty characters are great. bullies are fun (something tonally similar to the marx prompt, for instance). but i have a hard enough time even making the orbs smooch non-platonically; anything else is clearly going to be out of my ballpark. 🎀 very very few of these prompts are going to be considered canon to starstruck's storyline, and i'll specify any that are (such as bandee's). this is even less likely with OCs, though i might be open to that in the future after the event. this event is just for fun and silliness! 🎀 when suggesting OCs, especially if i don't know you or your oc well, please please give me some info about your oc and why you think they'd work. like, would your oc make a move that starstruck fails to notice? are they accidentally dating? do they share an interest? is your oc a hopeless pining romantic, are they a charmer, are they a bully, so on and so fourth! a link to a reference is also good! try to remember starstruck's characterisation when suggesting as well; remember that it's very important that she doesn't get along great with most waddle dees. otherwise i might have a hard time responding to you! 🎀 also... please don't suggest your ocs just because you want me to draw them. i'll likely take more general/platonic oc interaction prompts in the future. please only suggest an oc for this event if you genuinely think you have a fun potential ship dynamic to explore. i am much more likely to draw canon character prompts and ocs from folks who have interacted with me regularly (such as yourself, boa). i'm fairly aware of my regular interactors and of course my mutuals, so i'll be able to tell if people are just popping up out of the woodwork trying to get free art out of me.

i hope this helps a little and i appreciate your interest!

this sounds like a lot of rules, but it's mostly just things to keep in mind. i'm more flexible with canon character recommendations because there's a bit more to navigate and get right when it comes to OCs, but i'm none the less willing to ty it out! hopefully it's just something fun and silly i can share with folks to celebrate the month!

[janujaja]

Literally @lost-my-sanity1 being an MVP and tagging me in everything so that I don't disappear from this world. Thankyou kiddo.

So yes! List of 10 comfort bl shows haha oookie.

1. MSP - My School President [Thai]- TINNGUN - GEMINIFOURTH [ do I even need to. Have u seen my tumblr. Yes. Thankyou Next.]

2. Bad Buddy [Thai] [ Carved a HOLE in my heart when it ended. ]

3. Bleuming [Korean] [hashtag one of the FEW series I can watch over and over again cuz the vibes are just. IMMACULATE.]

4. Semantic Error [Korean] [again love it so much cuz I read the manga first and the two have given LIFE to the characters so so so so so well I lou them I miss jaechan plz come back.] I also love it for its wider implications on making the kpop industry much more LGBTQ+ tolerable but that's for another time.

5. Keita Hatsukoi [Japan] [I still find it bewildering how I was able to fall in love with the EXTRAness of Shunsuke Michieda (Aoki) in the series, and just for that, he and Ren (Ida) have my heart.] I am so so so scared as to how the thai version shall go but then again it's my geminifourth so.

6. Jack o' Frost [Japan] [why was it so good? Why were BOTH of them such baby gurls? Why? No one will ever know.]

7. A Tale of a Thousand Stars [Thai] [Literally got me back into bls during pandemic. The bgm, the village vibes, THEM, chefs kiss. I have even sent @hereforb99 crying vids way back in the days.]

8. Be My Favourite the series [Thai] [I genuinely just watch it for the theme song that they kept playing every 5 seconds (am I one of the few people who was obsessed with it?) plus the surprising chemistry of gawinkrist. Loved it. Did rewatch a lot of eps cuz of it.]

9. Triage the series [Thai] [There wasn't anything comforting abt the series per say throughout 🤡 but like IT WAS CUTE AND SOFT SHUT UP]

10. Bite Me the series [Thai] [SEE so the ending was crap and the last 2 to 3 eps were also crap :). But I LOVED the first few eps and the BGM 🥺 I LOU ME A BGM THAT CAN HOOK ME OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE.]

VEry special mention cuz list said 10 lel. Lovely Writer. I love Lovely Writer. If I had the brains to reactive my tumblr when that was running, this would have been a Lovely Writer blog first. Yes I love the BGM TOO. SHUT IT.

I don't have anyone else to tag :) har har.

[thehistoriangirl]

Where the Woods Brought Us Together [1]

I’m sorry, this idea took me longer than I expected, so this fic is gonna be divided in two parts. I only finished the first one to be part of the Arcane Halloweek 2022 day 1: Full Moon

Viktor x Fem!Reader---9K---SFW but check tags

Part Two

Part Three

Synopsis: There was a time when the forest and the village lived in balance. The humans went to the woods to harvest its fruits and cut down the dead trees from where luxury furniture was carved, and in exchange, the people would venerate and protect the wood’s heart, giving offerings and humming chants, telling them stories. Those times are long gone. Only remaining the fear of the immortal and powerful woods that rule over the village, only foolish woodcutters and valiant explorers dare to approach the forest. Except for the solitary family that lived in the little cottage at the edge of the woods. A lineage deeply connected to the trees and the creatures who hide inside them. The village knows—but anyone is sure about how deep the bond runs. Nevertheless, you're willing to try for the sake of saving the villagers from their demise. Perhaps, with some luck, you can convince the forest and its guardian of giving their mercy, praying the cost won’t be too high.

Tags: Spooky Forest| A lil of Body Horror| Ghosts| Mentions of Violence and Blood| kinda Cryptid Aesthetic| Friends to Lovers| Eventual Smut (next part lel)| Viktor has the Machine Herald outfit but he isn't a cyborg| Eventual Happy Ending| (1) Mention of a sedative usage on Reader| Domestic Fluff| This part doesn’t have angst uh|

The forest was blocking the path as the sky grew darker. Thorny bushes extended branches that clung to your clothes, making your companion curse every other step forward. His axe was useless, falling into the humid ground with a muffled sound. You were running out of time, and the woods knew it, probably even relinquish in such fact.

Wind whistled above the foliage covering the last traces of sunlight, sky painted bloody red in those fleeting blinks of color between the treetops. The lumberjack in front of you quickly tried to slide between each section of the forest, his panting breath the only steady sound besides your heartbeat.

With each minute passing, the only thing rolling tirelessly in your head was why did they venture so far? And the trees seemed to respond they deserve what they’re getting. Your hands clenched in the knitted bag hung on your left shoulder, glass bottles clinking together like alarm bells.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Shaking your head, you followed the lumberjack closer when the path covered in mud and rocks disappeared and everything was just moss growing into dead trunks and dry plants. Old symbolic carvings could be seen in the trunks, faded in time, and yet you could hear faint voices humming chants into the depths of the woods, in a lost time when they were safe.

This is too far, you pondered, seeing how the trees devoured the light, encapsulating the clearing ahead in a bubble of centenary trees, judging eyes that lurked from above like regal lords, like giants whose castle has been trespassed.

You are an intruder here, they hissed when you stepped into the clearing, breaking branches so loudly you thought of yourself as a deer caught in a trap.

I know, you replied with your head low, brows furrowed when you noticed it wasn’t a clearing, but rather, a fraction made artificially one by cutting down trees. Your legs felt wobbly as if the ground would've opened like an immense mouth, ready to gnaw at you for being so naïve to accept helping foreign lumberjacks out of the forest.

“Did you cut all the trees? Why?” While observing the eerily passage, from the corner of your eye you saw the man twitch his arms and neck. You thought fleetingly, he moved like a deceased animal, only nerves responses due to temperature changes. You wanted to puke, bile rising dangerously in your throat, blocking your futile attempts into taking shallow breaths. What was that rotten smell?

The woodcutter rearranged the leather bracelets in his left hand, giving you a warning look.

"Just cure him, this is out of your business." Your nails dug into the tender flesh of your palms. Foolish, then. That's why only foreigners dared to get involved with the oldest part of the forest, in the heart where monsters roamed. His brownish eyes shone with repulsion while his gaze swept you. Witch was written all over his features.

But you were no witch. Your healer’s kit sounded with the clashing glass bottles as you moved near the afflicted, a short man with wide torso who seemed to be moving randomly as if it were a rag doll instead. His curly, yellow hair was filled with green moss, his legs were stained with mud his hands took fistfuls of the dirt around him.

“Stop that crap!” the lumberjack yelled at his partner, kneeling and trying to stop his arms from digging. “Cut it, damn it!” The shivery edge of his voice made you notice he was as afraid as you.

It wasn’t a normal seizure, but you already knew it.

You were drinking tea and polishing your grandmother's ceramic when a man banged at your door and explained—half curses and half screams—that his partner was cutting down the biggest tree in the clearing when he screamed and fell into the catatonic state you were seeing him. His eyes white and jaw so tighten you were almost sure he broke parts of his teeth.

You took the bottle filled with laurel, mint, and rosemary extract, a mix of the strongest aromatic herbs you had, soaking a little rag and collocating it in the man's nose. The forest smelled like rain and wet, putrid leaves, and much more now. In your little hut, such essence would remain for days, but here it seemed as weak as a cheap cologne, fading away too quickly.

You needed to free him from the forest grasp, but it wasn’t working. Nibbling at your bottom lip, your blood tasted metallic and sweet; the sudden pain refocused your attention. Sinister shadows closed in, the sun long gone.

The woods liked to devour both foolish people and time.

“So?” the lumberjack shook your shoulder with extra force, making you spill the rest of the essence into your skirt. “Why is Chief Zack not getting better?”

Because you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn't be cutting down the trees, not these.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, your knees covered in mud when you stood up. “I don’t know, I don’t think he can be sav— ah!” The man snatched your bag, throwing your remedies into the ground while he seemed to pour every bottle’s content inside his partner’s mouth. “No! Stop! Some aren’t edible!”

He pushed you away. “Stupid useless witch.”

You would’ve shouted something foul back, but fear held your tongue, the silence extended in the clearing like a bad omen. Too still even at night, when the forest came to life. When you gazed over the line of trees, so close to each other it looked more like a wall, you saw too many eyes looking back.

Blood rushed up your ears, frozen limbs over the cold ground. Your heart banged wildly against your ribcage, and you wondered in they could hear it.

Branches began to break, stepped on.

“What the hell are you doing? Help me!” the man yelled at you, and between the white orbs watching in the penumbra, three golden eyes appeared, high above the others. You didn’t mind his rash words, barely listening to his curses, so he scoffed, and straightened his figure to see past the clearing. "What are you even looki—”

You’re an intruder, the wind blew cold as in winter, and you asked yourself how the creatures’ eyes could shine without external light. Shivering, you retreated until your back hit a trunk. You’re an intruder, you’re an intruder. Even inside your head, all you could think was you’re an intruder.

“… out of it! Help me! Snap out of it and help me carry him!” the man’s yells came like a wave of reality. Low growls were surrounding you, those eyes nearer than before. The lumberjack tried to drag his partner towards you, but no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t move him. His breath was irregular, voice shaking. “Help me! Damn it why he doesn’t move?”

A growl. Something barked, the crack of a branch—or it was a bone?

A warm voice made its space over the cold indifference of the forest. I’m going reassured, knowing I leave the village in good hands. The hands of your grandma were always warm, even against the humid forest ground.

“You shouldn’t have cut these trees,” you muttered, standing up and checking on the man. His fist was covered in dirt that stopped moving moments ago and yet half his arm was covered in mud just like his thighs. When you peeked at his face, you see his mouth open in a silent, frozen scream, eyes fixated on something above you.

“What?” he snapped back. Your shaking hands were quick while trying to lift his head. Among the dusty hair, wet from being covered in dirt, you feel the new bristliness of roots, lines connecting him to the cursed ground that made him fall. Your fingers froze. “Who do you think you are, witch?”

“I’m no witch,” you replied, leaving the man, and stepping away, looking at the new company stepping into view. The dogs were gigantic, sections of dark furs contrasted with their skeletons, bare-bones white like ghosts, white like their seemingly blind eyes that gazed, ironically, hungrily at you two; and as ghosts, they sure didn't make any noise either. “But you’d wished I could be one now.”

The man looked confused and angry, standing at his threatening height, his steps too careless while approaching you. He didn't say the dogs approaching. “What did you say, witch?”

“Only a witch can save us,” you muttered, closing your eyes as the creature jumped into the man’s back, jaws wide open and devoid of flesh, which only made its fangs elongate; the movement rising a blow of cold air against your feverish brow—the confirmed sign you spent too much time inside the forest. “And I’m no witch.”

The lumberjack fell against you, both bodies knocking the ground, it left you breathless. From the corner of your vision, you saw the other man moving desperately into the ground, as the rest of the pack throw dirt over his body. His companion was screaming enough for both, making your eardrums hurt from the agonizing cries he shouted in your ear as the dog tore apart both flesh and cloth.

Time seemed trapped inside this forest, the trees being immortals compared to human lives. They lived at their rhythm, one much slower and contemplative.

Right now, it was crueler. Blood soaking your clothes, your body being too warm to too cold in a blink; a beast charging at the shuddered body on top of you, his cries diminish into his last breaths. The trees looked, you could feel their gaze—and speaking of gazes, where were those golden eyes?

“I’m… an… intruder…” the lumberjack muttered, and then he stopped responding altogether. Nausea covered your spinning head, and blurry vision when the body fall next to you, leaving you bare and unprotected from the white dog approaching you.

You couldn’t see the other man anymore, instead, a pack of five dogs were surrounding your lying figure, eyes focused on the trees behind you.

The crackle of a branch. Were you going to die, too?

“Grandma… I’m sorry…” Your vision became blurry as light flooded your eyes.

“Let’s go,” someone said, and the dogs all looked at the voice’s source. You couldn’t focus your eyes on it, everything was getting too dark inside you.

If you’d have the strength to fight, you would probably have been pushed away when the voice lifted you, head hung heavy with each stride between cold arms holding your back and legs. The dogs trailed behind, orbs floating in the darkness. You could see the branches retreating out the path until the sky broke visible, a blessing dressing in navy blue.

The voice left you at the entrance of your hut, in the flowerbed of wild daisies that decorated part of your front yard. Your eyelids were already closing when the voice—a soft tone with a peculiar cadence you haven’t heard before— said: “Goodnight.”

He was leaving, but among the delirium weighing your eyes and the relief of being out of the woods, you could see golden eyes shining like the stars above gazing at you one last time.

It didn’t take too much time for the news to spread into the little village—or better, the absence of the lumberjacks who decided to run away when they couldn’t find the bodies of the chiefs among the trees the next day of their disappearance.

Your scratches from the thorny bushes weren't healed enough when someone banged on your door on a quiet, clouded night at the end of the summer season, the interior lit by candles because it was too hot to use the hearth.  

You could feel the heat emanating from the other side before you took the metal handle to pull it open. Joel, the village hostel’s owner was there, holding a torch that drew amorph shadows in his serious face.

“Miss, please come with me.”

“What happened?” you were ready to put on your shoes, looking from the corner of your eye to the open bag covered in mud from the other day.

“You aren’t safe here. Please let me escort you to the hostel.” Your steps froze, silhouette flashing with the torch’s flame being moved by the sudden cold wind.

Turning to face him, you saw dimmed glances of red and orange flames against the dark browns and greens of the forest. They’re getting too close. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Joel shook his head, a grimace that looked out of place on his face that was all smiling. "The people are scared; we lost an excellent investment with the lumberjacks the other day." His green eyes were surrounded by purple eye bags over overnights of insomnia. "We cannot allow it anymore.”

The trees were taller, looming shadows over the little hut that belonged to your grandmother before her passing now handed over to you along with the duty of protecting the village.

“You can’t win,” you retorted, fidgeting with the loose threads in the hem of your shirt. “Please, do not commit a mistake you all will regret.” You took Joel’s right hand, over the handle of an axe. “I’m asking you this not like some ominous healer, but as Amaya’s granddaughter. Please make them reconsider.”

But even before you ended your sentence, you could see the hard stubbornness in Joel’s eyes. When he shoved your hands away, you didn’t even flinch.

“It’s time to stop fearing a cluster of trees and take control of it, young lady. They’re only old legends and stupid superstitions.”

These people act like the forest belonged to them.

A cluster of trees? The forest was many things, but a simple group of trees wasn’t one of those. You shook your head then, nails nibbling at your bottom lip. “Good luck, then. But I will remain here.”

“If you believe this is going to work to stop us…”

“No, it isn’t my intention.” You will need me close when the plan gets sour. "I can't let my grandma's house become ashes; you see. It’s everything I have left from my family.”

Joel nodded, absent and with an apex of doubt in the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly. But you didn't mind if he thought you’d be doing a ritual to help the forest as you tilted your head to express him a silent goodbye before closing the door.

You weren’t a witch. No magic could pour off your fingers to protect not the house much less the forest. Though you knew it wouldn’t be needed.

Torches lit, so many they looked like astray stars burning too close to each other, stars in disgrace being too close to the ground. The nights in the forest were usually bottomless black, and now it looked like a succession of fake dawns, flames licking trees so wide you couldn't hug a trunk completely.

They died too quickly, the flames. You had to block your windows from smoke filtering inside, as a result of the wood being too wet. Sitting in the empty little living room, watching from the main window over the forest’s edge into its depths, you hummed while chewing absently your lips.

For whom you were fearing? You weren’t sure. Many men of the village joined the desperate plan, teenagers, and elders;  but the forest was far older than any of them with their ages added together.

Even if the start was an even one, it took a couple of hours to make you realize which side the balance tip-off. You were startled by a bolt of ground-breaking lightning, gigantic raindrops hitting the tin roof, and a cacophony that made your head began to pound. The woods were dark in a second, bloody red and orange in another, and the ground covered in smoke. Like blinks, the fires died even if allegedly, the rain couldn’t infiltrate the forest that easily.

Over the storm, you heard the screams that died as quickly as the flames that now were extinct against the deep abyss of the woods. They seemed like a flicking nightmare, but your lips covered in blood were proof enough.

You can’t win, you remember the heavy sorrow conquering your voice. Deep inside your being, you wished you could be wrong. It didn’t matter how much time you spent looking outside longingly, wishing someone could sprint out of the woods so you could aid them, hide them.

Nobody came out.

They fell like the rain, you thought the next day when the sun tried to peek over the dense clouds covering the forest and the village. Both mist and smoke mixed low in the ground, making it hard to see more than a few meters away from the deserted yard. Incessantly, unmercifully, violently.

It had only been one night of rain, though your sixth sense could foretell that the majority of crops were already ruined, result of both the enormous raindrops and the hails freezing and drowning the crops in every field surrounding the woods. You knew, too, the forest wouldn’t stop with just one night—or day.

Not with two, or three, it seemed. Your house was beginning to get colder, and your groceries were running out quickly, too. Mist still covered the ground, but mud was already entering the living room, windows filled with fog from the lit hearth.

The village should be completely flooded by now. At this point, your bottom lip was raw from all the chewing you did in your idle time—which was a lot now that you couldn’t go out.

Your brow was extremely warm against the frigid window, and heavy eyes from restless nights settled into the forest ahead. Please stop, you wanted to beg it. It was too much. Does it want to kill everyone in the village? You felt your cold feet heavy, your heart falling silent as it skipped a beat.

Does the forest want to kill the whole village?

I’m going knowing I leave the village in good hands, you remembered as if you were soaked in the rain, limbs stiff and clattering teeth.

“No, please.” The door was stuck with mud accumulated between the slab and the cobblestone yard. Your shoes got soaked when you kicked the mud out. “They’re innocent!” you shouted when stumbling into the yard that now resembled more of a lagoon, each step plunged into a pair of centimeters of mud and stagnant water.

The ground was covered in mist that broke into little fragments of clouds with each motion of your coat—now completely soaked. But it didn’t stop you from climbing the hill, towards the woods.

“They’re innocent! Do you want to know who the guilty ones were?" you shouted, throat sore from the sudden usage of the chilling climate. “You already know! You’ve killed them all!”

You entered, seeking shelter from the deluge that probably left bruises over your arms while covering your skull from the sudden hail falling from the sky. Not even the lightning could illuminate the insides of the forest. Your wet shoes tripped over dead torches, and up until then, you could see the remnants of the battle—or better, the massacre. Torches were broken, splinters scattered into the dark ground like bone fragments. More than once, walls of wet, dead branches hung blocking the view, thorns tearing your clothes and hair. Over your touch, your hands got stained with ashes over some trunks.

Yes, they could burn some parts, but not any single treetop was incinerated.

It was a foolish fight, a stupid decision, a terrible mistake—

“Ack!” you fell, ankle twisted with some mounts of dirt piling up in the middle of the path. “What’s this?” Up to your touch, you could feel rags of burned clothing already rotten away, some clanks of metallic lighters already empty.

They were absorbing them already, with almost nothing left of those who ventured inside the woods. You looked over the trees, wasn’t this enough? As you walked over the forest’s heart, scratches made your frigid skin warm up with blood flooding down your cheeks and ankles. How much revenge is this place needed?

Goosebumps covered your skin, clothes already soaked in rain and now freezing, burning cold. Every little mountain of dirt looked like a mocking grave.

As you got closer to the center of the forest, the ground was dry and still, the noise of the storm fading away with each step. “Why these aren’t enough?” you said, stopping into the familiar clearing and kicking another mount of dirt. There weren’t any signs of human bodies or any signs of other living things around besides the trees.

You were scared, teeth clattering even as you tried to steady yourself with each limp of your twisted ankle, arms tucked against your chest.

Please stop. “Do you want to kill us all?” Tears warmed your face when the blood dried, and your body temperature dropped inside the still bubble of coldness, in the air, in the ground, in everything.

You heard a branch break behind you.

“Well, perhaps not you.” Your eyes widened when golden light flowed inside the clearing, allowing you to see some saplings already growing into the place of the cut trunks.

“You,” you breathed, falling to your knees as you tried to turn around. The ground was softer here, like quicksand. The sudden light covered your sight with black dots dancing in your vision.

You could still not see him clearly, darkness behind cut around his figure as he spoke. The dogs weren’t around this time, but that didn’t make you feel at ease. He was taller than any man in the village, two piercing golden eyes looked at yours without blinking, the third one being a light source instead, hung above his head in a third arm.

"You remember me," he said, and his voice sounded slightly surprised. Amused, maybe?

“Can you make it stop?” you comment, because that’s why you were here, half frozen and with the deadly certainty of a dangerous fever overtaking you as soon as you leave the woods.

Little by little, you could gaze at him when your eyes grew used to the light. He was using a wood mask, only his eyes visible. Actually, his body was covered in armor made of dark wood, a staff grasped in his right hand of the same material, ivy tangled around it. You could only see a hue of mahogany hair sending copperish hues around the light.

“What?”

“The rain,” you replied as if it weren’t obvious. “It’s flooding my village.”

“The village who wanted to burn the forest to the ground, yes?”

You stopped, pulling your coat up your chest, even if the cold just wouldn’t leave. “… they got scared when the woodcutters disappeared.” Disappeared, not murdered. He locked eyes with you as if reading your thoughts.

“I wonder who told them what happened.”

“I didn’t,” you scoffed back, glaring at him even if you have to tilt your neck back to see his mask. “They know what happens to people who disappear inside these woods, I suppose. Wonder why." You cleared your throat, a dry cough making you a ball while shaking. “Please. There are children and innocent people down there, whose adult family is now gone because the forest ate them, and then the storm happened. Do you know how bad it’s down the village?” You turned so you could face him directly, little branches scratching your already bruised knees. “My house is almost flooded, it should be a deluge down there! Crops are ruined, and houses, too. What does the forest want, then?”

The man leaned against a tree, voice lost in thought. “Do you think this can be amended?”

“I want to try.” You shrugged. “The forest and the people have been living in harmony for centuries before, I believe it can be amended." The silence that came after made you continue after seeing his stoic figure, copying your posture of crossed arms against his chest. “Alright, you don’t believe in them. What can I do to fix it?”

“Why do you want to help them so badly? They were about to burn down your hut the moment you stepped outside of it.”

“I’m not protecting them, I’m protecting their families that didn’t have a word in the decision.” Furrowing, you added: “How do you know where my hut is?”

He shrugged back. “There aren’t any other huts over the forest edge, I can see it when I walk around.”

“Do you live here?” His chuckle sounded more like a growl inside the echo of the mask.

“Do I look like a villager to you?” You didn’t answer. He didn’t need reassurance, anyway. “Tell me why you want to help them, and if your answer is convincing enough, I’ll consider it.”

You scowled at his words, not even a safe statement could come out of them. “Because I promised my grandma to take care of the village in her name when she died. I… I don't want to disappoint her.”

If his eyes could blink, then they did, golden light flickering while moving closer to your now seated position on the muddy ground. “I see you’re Amaya’s granddaughter.” You only gazed at him, totally in silence. “Very well, you have two days to come up with something.” He leaned into his staff. “The forest isn’t going to give you much longer.”

Nodding, you said: “Thanks.” You were expecting him to leave, so you could crawl back to your hut, but he continued blocking the path ahead, his lantern illuminating your figure covered in mud, thorns, blood, and soaked from the rain. “…What?”

“Can… you walk?”

You blinked. And why do you care? But instead, you swallowed the sour question. “I think so.”

“Alright, then stand up.” He didn’t sound convinced, walking slowly towards you until his boots were brushing the fabric of your skirt.

You bit your lip, putting your body on all fours, but only three balance points were working correctly as you tried to stand up, the right leg wobbling as soon as you got over your left foot. It hurt, hot pain running your veins against the cold clothes that drag you down. Your arms were pushing your left thigh in a futile attempt of aiming for balance.

“Next time, please don’t lie to me.” The man offered his hand, wood armor over black, worn-out leather gloves. You took it after a moment of pondering, but it wasn't a good idea to try both his patience and your pride. You wandered a lot before stumbling here, and you didn't want to lose too much time trying to come out of the woods instead of fixing the village's mess.

To make the way back to the hut a more normal one—even if the man, or creature, or whatever he was, put his arm around your waist while you had to do the same to walk—you asked things. The words filled awkward silences where you had to pretend you weren't so close when you ignored the way the branches and bushes moved away from the constricted path once again as he moved forward, brilliant eyes peeking over the foliage as the forest came back to life with owls looking over their nests, foxes crossing the path in a swish of gentle wind moving the leaves.

Many eyes were observing them, reflecting the golden light of the forest's guardian in unblinking orbs.

“The forest is more active at night,” he said while you were observing an owl from afar. “Humans aren’t here to threaten them.”

“Are you only active at night, then?” you muttered, hoping that over your clumsy stomps he wouldn’t listen.

But you were unlucky. “No. I’m around all day but I can only show my… eh, full strength at night.” Like the dogs and the man with roots, you didn’t have to ask about those things. Which meant that, when your grandma told you stories about the forest's guardian and his quests to protect his homeland, she was talking about him.

You could see the hut ahead, sky still cloudy but with the rain coming down as a drizzle. Mist gone, but the surroundings of your garden were still flooded, a little lagoon that reflected the light in the man's third arm as if the water were made of liquid gold.

“You can stop here, I can get going on my own.”

“You can barely walk in even floor, you’re going to fall as soon as you put a foot in there,” he retorted, his arm tightening the grasp on your waist. “Hold on tight, yes?”

“Wh— ah!” You held into his neck when he carried you over, his steady rhythm didn’t slow with the uncertain terrain, but rather you could hear the ripple his steps made into the water, reflecting into the little fruit trees outlining the descending path towards the oxidated gate of your hut. Peeking under his mask, you could see the end of the wood and the beginning of pale skin down in a sharp jawline.

He let you in your entrance’s threshold, and you could note his quick inspection of your kitchen and living room. "You should take a warm bath, perhaps drink some eucalypt tea and inhale some of its vapor, if you can. Or you’ll be sick.”

“I will. Thank you.” You bit your lip to not reply instead: I will, Grandma. Did he tell her about that remedy, too? “You didn’t have to take me all the way here.”

He fidgeted with his staff. “The forest wounded you when you only tried to help, thus, I’m responsible to an extent.” The man was already walking away. “I’ll see you in two days.”

Two days? Oh right, the deal. You were ready to respond, but he was already gone when you looked over the gate, rain took away with him.

An offering. The townsfolk said. We'll make rituals and offering to the trees as our ancestors did.

Yes, they sat in the trees' shadows and told them stories, painted them when spring came, and offered their best crops at the end of the winter as a promise of a fortunate climate for the rest of the year after the frost of February and early March. People buried valuable heirlooms right after the deaths of some loved ones, they asked the forest to cut down a tree and insert a crop.

They didn’t offer people.

But then again, flooding never had happened in the village before. It was normal people were scared after seeing all the things the woods were capable of doing.

Still, it didn’t sit too well with you to be the main offering. The people said it was because you're the most important person in the village, being the only healer and the only want who could talk to the forest.

What happens in the forest kills me, then? You thought but didn’t say anything as they gave you a calming tea too strong for only being a tranquilizer.

Now, while resting on one of the main paths to entering the woods, hands tied at your back, thin cloth between your body and the ground, your mind came back to the same question.

It was getting dark, and not even the coat and the fluffy sweater could make you stop shivering—maybe it was more than cold. Your back was against a tree, its rough surface couldn’t be your anchor despite how much you wanted to.

You were tired after scheduling meetings with the townsfolk in the village’s church that was localized atop a hill, planning some repairs to the crops and the houses if the plan worked out. There was still uncertainty, but it was better than hopelessness.

Just as dusk, the man with golden eyes appeared from behind some trees as if you agreed to meet here beforehand. Besides your presence, there was a basket filled with expensive, exported wine, some jewelry family heirlooms, and a couple of rare books at your feet. He still has his mask on, but you could paint his amused expression after entering the path, a brow raised with a crooked grin, perhaps.

“So, after two days to think of a solution, you come up with a date?”

“You aren’t that lucky. It’s an offering.”

He tilted his head slightly. “If that’s the case, what are you doing here, then?”

Lips pressed on a wrenched line; you couldn’t see him right in the eye. “I’m part of the offering.”

The man stopped in his tracks, half a distance from you. "That's… intriguing, for sure.” He continued after finishing, dry leaves crunching after his slow steps before he kneeled to be at your eyes level. “May I ask why they consider you would be a proper offering for the woods, hmm?”

You didn’t know he could be this sarcastic.

“People say I’m an amazing companion, mind you.” He was inspecting the basket, peeking over the books’ titles. The only sound was your breathing and the clicks of the artifacts clattering between them and his hands.

“I do not differ entirely.”

“Entirely?”

"You do seem very interested in what I think about you." You almost gasped, feeling the rough rope digging at your wrists when your shoulders rolled back, pretending a calm pose. “They tied you as if you were about to escape at any given chance.”

“How observant you are,” you said, voice filled with the same sarcasm. “… sir.” Until then, it didn’t fall the total realization that the person in front of you held the destiny of your life in his hands. Better to be polite, then. Your grandma never told you a lot of things about the forest’s guardian, only that the woods cherished him as much as he loved the woods.

He was looking at the wine bottle, shaking the bottle slightly while reading the adhesive label. “Sir? You think being polite it’s going to make the forest change its mind?”

Yes. Because that was how the woods worked, like a deity. They were too old and powerful to deal with humans—mortals entertained them, the village was like a gigantic theater, and they were right in the front rows.

But you didn’t want to be cocky.

“I’m your offering, so do whatever you want with me. But let my village alone. This is between the two of—the three of us, not them.” Well, you were being cockier now, than answering with a simple yes. If you’d been untied, your arms would be crossed in your chest. It was a good thing you had to be still for the ropes not to burn your skin, but you were sure he could hear your frenetic heartbeat, even when you tried to disguise it by seeing his mask up close once again.

The wood it was made of looked like red cedar, wood grains over every centimeter of the polished surface that shone with different hues of wine and crimson with the moving light in the arm suspended in the air. You thought that if you hover your finger over the mask, it would feel like your grandma's vanity—softwood for the use, almost warm. A pulsating heart inside a tree.

“For being my offering, you’re quite bossy.” You bit your lip. Better silence, then, Words weren’t humbling you today. Not even your better actuation of bravado was slipping as the temperature dropped inside the forest, darkness so thick it looked like ink.

You began to shake when the trunk become as cold as a rock, teeth clattering. He noticed, standing up. Looking up at his mask, you couldn’t stop from thinking, he’s inhumanely tall. And trees were taller. You were like an ant against a bastion and a gigantic wall.

“I-I don’t care. You’re p-probably going to let the f-forest eat me anyway. Or m-making me a tree. Maybe b-both.” Why it was so cold? Was it another punishment? Then do your plan of an offering failed? Your heart dropped, color draining from your face.

“Turn around,” he instructed, voice plain.

“Wh-what?” your words escaped with a cloud of fog out your mouth.

“I said turn around.” You did the best you could, legs crawling over the blanket that now was getting stuck under your thighs, and oh the ground was frozen. You heard him kneel, gentle fingers maneuvering the knot of the rope out your wrists. “You hurt your wrist with the rope.”

You hummed in response, too shocked to respond. After some minutes, you could extend your arms in front, hearing the bones in your hands crackling with the sudden movement of your fingers. “Th-thank you.”

He stood up, offering you a hand just like two days ago. Sheepishly, you took it. The leather did feel warm, strangely so against the freezing weather, but then again, he was the forest’s favorite.

"Which one do you prefer?" he said suddenly, hand still in yours. You blinked, clearly lost, which earned a sigh from him. "Do you want me to eat you or rather, make you a tree?”

Oh. Was he trying to scare you? Play with you? You looked at him, golden orbs inside a dark mask with unreadable gestures. “If I can choose, then I’d prefer to be a tree. So I could live peacefully here, knowing that you’re protecting me… just like you do to them, now.”

He didn’t answer right away. You slid away from his warmth and regretted it almost instantaneously.

Finally, he nodded, but his eyes were absorbed in something behind you, or maybe even another time. “I believe you could be a rather… curious sweetbriar.”

You chucked, dry lips expanding with a timid smile. “Then it’s settled.”

The man inclined to take the blanket off the ground and let it fall over your shoulders. “I’ll take you somewhere warm, yes? Can you walk?” You nodded, your right ankle tightly bandaged. The cold made it hurt more than it should, but the sole prospect of a warm sanctuary made the prospect of walking enticing enough.

Even now, your hut was freezing after the constant rain.

He hummed back. “Alright. Take the basket and give me your hand.”

You did, but not before commenting nonchalantly: “Someone does think this is a date.” He laughed, a brief airy sound that seemed to illuminate the clearing for a moment. Or perhaps you were succumbing to the deliriums of the fever you could feel growing on your hot cheeks and forehead.

You wobbled with each step, brushing his side every time, but near him at least you could feel a halo or warmth irradiating from the light of his third arm now lowered at your back’s level to see the irregular path ahead—it a path covered in moss so narrow even if the branches of the forest retreated when he passed near them. It was too constricted for two people walking side by side, and yet he didn't let you slide your hand out of his grasp.

The path opened harshly to a little canyon where a little river ran, stars reflecting in the running water like speckles of gold. Three rocks protruded from the current, big enough to put two feet in them.

He looked at your hurt ankle when you peeked over the current, the bottom of the river hidden like an unknown danger. “I’m going to carry you across, hold on tight.”

For the next few seconds, you notice he wasn’t asking. You held the basket with your folded arm, taking the staff he handed you before he slid one hand over your legs.

A forest spirit, that’s right. He was too strong to be human anyway but good for you, you thought with each stride he gave to cross over the rocks. You didn't want to be left stranded in the middle of the forest.

“Why is it too cold?” you asked, preferring to engage in a normal conversation than feeling awkward about him carrying you again.

“The forest is still outraged,” he sighed, resuming pace. “It’s going to be a cold summer.”

“But—”

“Yes, I’m aware you’re trying to make it better.” He looked at the trees for a moment, before tilting his head towards you. “Let’s hope the situation can be improved.”

This part of the forest was different. No thorny bushes or bare branches over the path. Instead, ripe fruit was hanging low from the trees, blooming flowers were everywhere, little fireflies flying from one plant to the other. Even the temperature seemed warmer. You knew why with every step your companion gave total knowledge of the path ahead. This was his part of the forest, the place where anybody else would venture—probably not even discover.

You saw a bunny stopping lazily a few meters from you, don't mind your presence. Over the lower bushes, a deer was peeking at you, dark eyes illuminated golden thanks to the guardian’s light.

The man tugged at your hand slightly for you to keep walking. “Ah, sorry,” you muttered, looking at the landscape instead of him.

"We're almost there," he commented, looking at your limp increase. But neither of you would remind the other that there was the option of him carrying you for the rest of the way.

It was very childish of you to think about the level of humanity the forest's guardian had. It was better to consider him like a mythical creature you could only hear in legends and bed stories. Only by chance, you encountered him, but this? This was unbelievable and yet, very obvious.

Of course, he also needed to have a little hut to live in, it wasn't like he lived in the trees as if he were an owl or underground like the moles. The hut—though house was a better term—was built with river rocks instead of woods, a pitched roof made of wood and covered in branches of pine and white poplar. Here, the wasn’t any sign of heavy rain, even if everything was buzzing with life.

The little windows were covered in blinds made of vegetal fibers made from reeds, the wooden door opened silently as he pushed it without the need for a knob. Inside, a fire illuminated a little living room with worn-out rugs and patched cushions. You could see a little table with one chair, and right after it, three closed doors.

“Sit near the fire,” he simply said and disappeared towards the closed doors. He chose the one in the middle, opening to reveal a dark inside before closing it behind his back.

You did, not because you wanted to obey, but because you were tired; putting the muddy blanket at the entrance and taking your muddy shoes off—even if the man didn’t, the place was clean enough to not want to get it covered in mud. The flames cracked with your movement, extending your legs and arms towards the hearth. Little by little, the fire warmed you outside in, eyes fluttering close as you lay in one of the rugs.

You fell asleep too quickly to hear his return into the living room. The man was carrying a pair of his clothes—though probably they wouldn’t fit you perfectly—a pillow, and two blankets. He stopped in the middle of the way, looking at your silhouette outlined by the dancing flames. Tiptoeing, armor off, he put the blankets over your body and the little pillow near your head, hoping that your clothes wouldn't cause you cold in case they were wet. He breathed slowly, afraid of waking you while recollecting firewood to stock the fire to last all night.

When he finished, he went outside taking a wooden bowl with him to recollect some fruits but left the door ajar in case you’d called him. Before he turned around, he could not peek briefly at the human figure laying on the rug, thinking that, perhaps, you indeed would be a lovely wild rose.

Gold light flooded inside the living room, the hearth dying quickly with the last firewood crackling in the ashy ground. Your back hurt for fall asleep in a strange position, head half-laid over a pillow, but the characteristic smell of boiling coffee made you crawl off the blankets that definitely weren’t there last night.

The man wasn’t in the kitchen—a little corner of the house, incorporated with a rusty sink and a tiny hearth with a metallic platform where the pan rested. The front door was closed, but the lateral entrance wasn’t, gentle cold breeze moved your hair as you inspected the pan half filled with oatmeal porridge, a bowl of sliced apple and berries next to it.

Was this for you?

You took one rag from the wood table and carry the coffee off the flames. Part of you wanted to cross the threshold, wandering in the garden that seemed filled with fruit trees and vegetables, but you weren’t sure about what would you do when encountering the forest’s guardian. Hoping he to disappear in plain daylight was rude. After all, you were still alive and a human, ignoring the odds.

A plate was waiting in the middle of the table, but you couldn’t find the courage to serve the oatmeal, sit in the chair and eat. You didn’t know if the man made it for you or for him—and he wasn’t in sight to ask him.

“Are you not hungry?” he said, emerging from the lateral door carrying a basket with eggs, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, and some potatoes. In his other hand, he was holding a gigantic pumpkin.

You blinked, thankful you weren’t grasping the dish because it would've slipped out of your hands.

“Mister forest’s guardian?” He wasn’t wearing the mask nor the armor, and you weren’t sure it was the same person—but the eyes were the same hue of gold as the ones shining in the woods at night.

“Good morning,” he answered, extending the basket for you to take. Signaling the pan with his chin, he furrowed: “Do you not like oatmeal?”

“Ah!” you could feel your cheeks hot, so you turned around to put the basket over the table so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes swept over his face. “I didn’t know it was for me.”

“Well of course it is, I already ate.” He crossed the kitchen, pumpkin in hand towards the sink. “It’s almost noon.”

You frowned; the house didn’t have any clocks. “Then, thank you. I’ll eat now.” He gestured for you to take a seat—the only seat at the table.

You served the rest of the oatmeal on your plate, sitting still in the chair while the forest spirit walked around the kitchen cleaning vegetables, thanks to a smart plumber system that worked by pumping water into a mill.

While he was cutting the vegetables into slices to put them inside a pot with boiling water to cook soup, you took your chance to see him as nonchalantly as you could pretend. He looked so human, you thought, emptying the bowl of apples and berries into your oatmeal. Except for some details, for example, his right hand, which was covered in a strange brownish-golden uneven surface, like the roots of the trees dipped in gold at the edges. His skin covered in dark green veins. And of course, the third arm that was still suspended over his shoulder, light off. It was built in the same material as his hand, between nerves, ropes, wires, or roots, you couldn't pinpoint.

Chewing slowly, you peeked at his face, a game of chiaroscuro reminiscent of the way the woods played with light and shadows between their leaves and the irregular ground. Sharp features, elegantly sculpted, you consider, like when your grandpa made wood sculpting during the lazy afternoons. Prominent cheekbones and defined jawline. That jawline you looked so close the other day.

“What are you looking at, hmm?” He was looking at you from the corner of his left eye.

You took a spoon filled with oatmeal right after, signaling the arm over his head. Not completely a lie.

“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “When you’re done eating, wash the pumpkin and cut it. Do you know how to make pumpkin candy?” You nodded, and he hummed. “Well, you will be making it, then.” He began to cut those vegetables, rhythm tapping into the wooden counter, but he stopped midway. “I’m Viktor, not ‘Mister forest’s guardian’.”

“What?” you said incoherently, half-coughing, still not over the spoon of oatmeal.

“My name is Viktor,” he half turned to face you, one hand holding a half-cut potato. Arching an eyebrow, he waited until you nodded again, and then he resumed his activity.

Your spoon was making a lot of noise inside the ceramic dish, and you were sure of swallowing at least a quarter of the oatmeal whole.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Viktor,” you added when you put your dirty plan in the sink and began to wash it. Over the running water, you couldn't hear the falter in Viktor’s pace, and you were turned so you couldn’t see him looking at you with wide golden eyes, either.

The pumpkin was getting cooked over the hearth in the living room, the soup still boiling in the kitchen. The house smelled of aromatic herbs for the soup and the sweet caramel for the pumpkin, some bees wanting to slide inside. You were sitting in the middle of the living room, feet tucked inside a blanket while your shoes get soaked in sunlight at the entrance. The man gave you a ripe pear bigger than your hand to eat while the food was ready, the juice staining your fingers, stickier with every movement you made over the fruit to rotate it.

He was eating one, too. Sitting on another rug and pretending to ignore the necessity of addressing the most obvious conversation you two needed to talk about.

But the pears could only last so long before they were gone, leaving only their seeds and the cores.

You licked your lips while asking, nibbling at your bottom when he stopped to consider his words.

“I have a deal to offer, but you let me remind you the forest is still reticent.” He seemed to understand your inner confusion when looking at the bright outdoors. “Here’s sunny, but in your village, there are probably some clouds. If you step out the door, you can feel the wind is cold.”

“Then what’s the deal?”

His eyes lit up when he explained to you—it was like he was narrating a story. The forest cherished tradition, so the smartest move you could do was to stick to those customs that the forest seemed fond of. Paint the trees, holding offerings after every wind, a festival over the first rainfall. Little by little, he told you, the forest would crave more interaction with the town they looked develop since the beginning of the woods themselves. They would go back to the times the people sat over the trees’ shadows and tell stories when kids would present whole theatre presentations for them.

“Gave it time, so the fear could melt into mutual respect.”

He looked so happy only imagining those better times, eyes squinting in a silent smile.

“Where you there?” you interrupted, kicking your feet closer. “When the people told the forest stories?”

“No,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “I arrived when the forest was feared.”

Oh, was all you could say, not sure if you have to console him, or how. You stood up, the ambiance tinted with awkwardness from bringing back bad memories.

“Then… then I should go back to let them know.” The wooden floor was cold when you tiptoed towards the front door, not even thinking that you weren’t familiar with the way back, nor your ankle was ready to jump over those wet rocks.

"I haven't finished." He followed you, his body put between the front door and you. He was taller than you, but not as tall as he was wearing the armor. You blinked, hands fidgeting with the hem of your coat. “You have to make me company for a week each month, during the full moon."

“Me? Why?”

He shrugged. “I suppose the forest believed your words about being, and I quote, ‘an amazing companion’.”

You looked at him suspiciously. “Right, the forest,” you muttered, but he was already walking away too far from your sarcasm to be heard. The forest would crave more interaction, he said moments ago.

Maybe not only the forest.

“Wait there, I’m going to walk you to the clearing." He opened the middle door at the end of the cabin, gazing at you over his shoulder. “Because I don’t think you could jump the river section just yet.” Viktor stopped before the door closed totally, eyes directed towards the kitchen hearth, heat covering his cheeks. “Eh, would you, perhaps… like to stay for lunch?”

[randomnameless]

@cherry-blossom-inferno replied to your post “Which are the biggest examples of cowardice from...”:

This is wrong though. We do have Holst's reaction to Claude's ideas. It's in his A support with Claude and Holst is cool with it. He even calls himself Claude's #1 fan.

​Thanks to your comment, I realised I forgot a word in the earlier post lol (tfw you type on mobile)

If the Goneril issue was adressed, we could have had Hilda/Holst/their mom/their second degree cousin say that they are at least treating the Almyran children as human beings (lel) which is already giving them more care than what Almyrans do when they raid and pillage and “rampage” in Fodlan cities - maybe with some sort of Matthias-like example, Almyrans killing a pregnant woman, or, idk to keep in the “grandma from the 1800s tells me what the Orient is like” bias, captured women or what not

But as I typed it under this paragraph, it's only fuel for an AU (I didn't forgot the tag this time!) so yes, canon Holst and Claude support doesn't match this, because this is an AU, or a headcanon if you prefer.

That being said, Holst's reaction to Claude's ideas are sort of what the anon was talking about?

Canon Holst gives this :

And you also wish to establish relations with people from other lands, and those who follow other faiths. Is that accurate? Does this also extend to Fódlan's Throat? Will you throw open its gates and look to establish a friendly relationship with the Almyrans?

Logically, Holst wonders about "people from other lands" and the prospect of establishing friendly relationships with Almyrans.

And what of House Goneril, a family long seen as the enemy of the Almyrans?

Holst makes explicit mention of his house, who has been tasked with protecting the border since, well, idk when. Even if he sorts of reverse the issue for me, as the head of House Goneril, should he call himself someone who is seen as "the enemy of the Almyrans", and not put his people situation's first, saying House Goneril has been protecting Fodlan from Almyra, instead of being its enemy?

Would you send its only daughter to form a marital bond with the Almyran royal family? Is that a possible scenario?

And then all of the plot intricacies disappear in thin air, this is the equivalent of a Fjorming Bond or even worse, a FB being taken over by Ilyana with her "i love to eat" trope - this support might have tackled the year of prejudice Holst (and Hilda, as it is revealed in Houses!) have, arguably because they are protecting their people from Nader's weekly "rampages" or "tourism".

Or, idk, when Holst mentioned wanting to created "friendly relationships with Almyra", Claude might have added "friendly means feeding them everyday if you're taking prisoners, even children".

As the Nopes canon conversation goes, we basically have the equivalent of Caineghis agreeing with whoever was the sick fuck who enslaved Muarim to build "friendly relationships" between Laguz and Beorcs. And instead of talking about Muarim or the enslaved Laguz, we talk about Lyre's future prospects for marriage.

As @megafan1993 pointed out, even if we only have NPCs without a sprite, the Sreng/Faerghus conflict is tackled more seriously and with more gravitas than what was supposed to be Claude's core points (or one of his cores?), the prejudice between Fodlan and Almyra. We have a conflict based on ressources, resentment on both sides, civilians/non-fighters being targeted by both Faerghus/Sreng, extreme prejudice and an idiot who thinks it's time to stop and tries to stop the conflict.

On the other hand, you have an Almyran Prince who doesn't seem to be aware of the weekly raids, who wants to open borders regardless of said weekly raids, the House who defends their land from weekly raids has resentment against Almyrans, to the point of taking their children and "feeding them every 29th of February" - and yet we're supposed to believe the fissure between Fodlan and Almyra is mended in GW/VW off-screen because everyone loves to drink, to the point where Almyrans pillaging and rampaging in cities is nothing more than a joke, and no one ever gives a fuck about the "fed only every 29th of February" children?

We instead have a "joke" about Holst giving his blessings to marrying off his sister to Almyran Royalty ?

If Nopes (and arguably, Houses) didn't want to treat the "bridging the gap between two warring states" seriously and wanted to have a more Awakening-like resolution to conflicts only existing in the BG to provide sobby backstories to characters, then why did they brought more serious writing regarding Faerghus, and arguably, the CoS's writing?

House Goneril saw Almyrans as"rough and unreliable", people who "attack without reason and break treaties and tell lies" or are "brutes".

Holst seemed more open-minded than his sister regarding Almyrans (even if, apparently, you can still be "a prisoner fed once in a blue moon" and respected in Holst's mind?) but, once again, those previous bias are never adressed in Nopes, especially when Shahid apparently "attacks without reason", when nader is "rough" and a "brute" when he wants to bring souvenirs or pillage or rampage in cities the Federation is going to fight in, or even when Claude and his Almyran allies "break treaties" by letting Randolph die.

Tl;Dr : when canon sucks, people come up with transformative works

[the-art-in-arthesia-is-loud]

ugh yk what fuck it. rain code oc

i'm not finished with rain code btw. still in chapter 1. might start ch2 tonight or tmrw lel

random rambles under the cut~☆

OK YES HI WELCOME TO UNDER THE CUT™ AGAIN :3

one thing i'd like to mention is the fact that kara is not safe from the Weird Surname thing the rain code cast has got goin on (gazing intensely at you kokohead and hellsmile)

second thing is the fact that her design does feel too simple to be a rain code oc........but eh. she's not a master detective from the wdo so what am i supposed to do with her design?

either way kara is the typical overly nice person who sometimes can be mean but then regrets being mean like. a day later. she overthinks a lot, but tries to set that aside for the sake of master detective activities. she's a citizen in kanai ward, hence the doodle of her with the hood of her jacket over her head (lol)

despite always regretting when she acts mean to others, she doesn't feel a twinge of regret when she talks shit abt the amaterasu corporation, esp when it comes to yomi, bc she hates him so much she wants to grill him (based kara)

she is also not that much of a great socializer (this is me projecting onto her) but if she's with the people she's super close with she'll be more talkative even when a stranger is there

i don't have an idea for her forte yet tho, so if anyone can tell me any ideas, then it would bs appreciated! ty!

ok that's all i rlly wanna say abt her honestly lmaooooo thanks for reading this if you did :)

[spongek-squidge]

REASONS WHY I LIKE THE NEWWHO COMPANIONS

Rose

We love her

19, looking out for the rights of every slave race she comes across, literally came in with a massive fucking gun to save the doctor, we Stan

Also literally absorbed the time vortex and brought Jack back to life??????

She’s a lot of peoples favourites for a reason!

Mickey

He counts screw you

Loyal to a fault, he tried so hard man 😭

Knew what he wanted and we love him for that

Also perfect for Martha, they both fought for earth and against the doctors usual BS!

Martha

Ok, we all know when she was a companions she was a bit… meh at times

But she’s the only companion to date who made the choice to leave the doctor without dying or being left behind! Queen shit!

Also her being so done with human!doctor was a mood tbh

She’s a boss ass bitch✨

Donna

Donna Noble!!!

She’s the doctors best friend through and through, we all love her!

She was also the best at keeping the doctor grounded, platonic besties for the win!!!!!!

Hope to see her again in the new series :D

Amy

Amelia Pond, the first face 11 saw

I love her so much, she lived for chaos

A bit meh in her first season but once she got her priorities sorted out she’s absolutely amazing!

Also Rivers mother, and you know River got a lot of it from her, sweetie.

Rory

Rory pond gets slept on ngl

Man literally guarded Amy for 2000 years and not once did he abandon her

Like Mickey he’s loyal to a fault, but this time the girl he’s after loves him back so yay!

He also spent half his time dressed as a Roman or coming back from the dead so he gets bonus points for that Lel he deserves it

Clara

Clara Oswald, the first companion to stick with the doctor through regeneration since Rose!

I do admit I have a bit of beef with her for being a bit too like the doctor (almost destroying the tardis key etc)

But like she was also very good at balancing out the doctor

They took turns playing babysitter Lel

Also is now kinda immortal and I love that for her (and Me!)

Bill

My current favourite companion!!!

She deserved so much more screen time 😥

Asks all the right questions and is a good refresher, she is the first (and only) pacifist leaning companion in Moffats run!

She’s also the first companion the doctor truly opens up to, he mentions river to her without much thought! (After all Bill does remind him of Susan)

Ruby

Ruby Sunday has so far been an amazing companion!

The dynamic of her and doctor number 15(?) Is so good!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wish she got more screen time but hey I don’t make the decisions around her

Posted before her season comes out but so far it’s been so promising!

[papirouge]

Ah yes, because we all know that Russia bombed the equivalent of 2 H bomb onto Ukraine in the span of a few weeks, precisely like Israel did. No mention of the (illegal) use of white phosphorus, which is known to have terrible effect on the environment. That's totally a normal "war" stuff that happened before and that we should just gloss over like we did before :) .....NOT.

The "exceptional" treatment for Israel is simply on par with the exceptionalism of this war. Pulling out a whataboutism about other countries, or the Russia-Ukraine war is stupid considering that either Ukraine or Russia has yet to showcase the same casualties as Palestine does.

"how many country has YOUR country set off" that precisely because people acknowledge that their country has a hand in this conflict (sugaring Israel with their taxpayer money and weapons) that they're doing the most against it, genius🙄 And you know what happened when Westerners said that this conflict is actually also our business because that's our money that goes wasted onto it? we've been told that we're just clueless goyim and that we are forbidden to have an opinion on it lmao Because Israel spilling goyim blood to have their fanatic millennialist Gret Israel way is totally not goyim business...ofc So what's the truth? should we stay in our lane or not? how? we've been boycotting but even that has been a problem for Zionists too somehow (we'll get back to it later on this post). At this point whatever we do or say will never please you because you're just mad we stopped drinking the Kool-Aid.

btw, it's funny to see yall suddenly whine about the delusional left saying that the hostages are "crisis actor" when the ones who've been consistently saying that the victims in Gaza weren't real and made up an entire HASHTAG #paliwood to mock them(!!) were Zionists.... interestingly no Zionist complained about people making a "trend" off tragedies, like they do against pro Palestinians...what a load of hypocrites lel Actually Zionists were the one insinuating that the hostages were actors for displaying signs of sympathy for their captor and not being enough mad at them lmao ....Something-something...every accusation is a confession LOL I'm not saying that there's no delusional conspirators in the left/anti Zionist side though, only that acting like the left had some sort of monopoly in denying basic reality to fit their narrative is straight up dishonest. Never forget that the ones who came up with the "crisis factor" talking point were CONSERVATIVES, to act like mass shooting were psy-op and that no kid died in Sandy Hook to remove from their side any responsibility regarding their loose gun control policies. The same right whose antisemites constantly fly under your radar, and that you lazily label as "leftist" just because they're against Israel....

Behold, LEFTIST anti Zionist MEME 🤡

Interesting how I never see you guys seethe about the actual antisemitism of this flock of guys🧐 it's like, the left had to bear the whole responsibility of the rise of antisemitism on its shoulders.....why?

"focus on their own shit" You mean, those civilians precisely did by doing what they could do at their own level such as boycotting, something that Zionist lobby also tried to make it illegal(??). Zionists made fun of protesters protesting IN THEIR OWN COUNTRY against their own government, saying how useless they are and hop they're more of an inconvenience than a "real" protest. Like sis, if you want people to "focus on their own shit", keep that same energy for Israel and tell them to stop trying to interfere onto foreign country politics (trying to make the ban of Israeli products illegal) & assaulting them! So yeah, don't be surprised that people start to get scared of Zionism. Which btw already did a handful of victims already...even in the West :

"Zionism will kill us all". If you can use Islamism like a boogeyman to say it will "kill us all" (in the West), don't be surprised we pull out the same energy for Zionism who also kills ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"harass and threaten people in other countries" lmao you mean like those two Israel agent did by assaulting US citizens on their own soil? 🤡

the same US citizens who hound their own officials to stop funding this war, and you know who's still making fun of them?? ....Zionists (look at the comments)

but yeaaaaah anti Zionists are totally not doing shit and are just lazily harassing people online. Tell me you have no idea what you're talking about without telling me you have no idea what you're talking about.

TL;DR : you guys never beat the every accusation is a confession allegations

[mai-mai-lim]

(You look, different. You ARE different. Are you... me in a distant universe?) "I guess. Could ask the same about you. All I see is that we just happen to use a specific name."

So i lied. i thought im skipping this year's THSC anniversary but i happen to have another idea (not the idea i mentioned in my rambles im keeping that for next time) and i thought to whip it up quick with the canon guy and my super oc-fied henry.

Never would I thought to liking a game series about sticks for almost 4 years, kind of, i wasnt too active in the fandom until early 2023 cause i mainly focus on crossovers interactions for myself lel

but coming full on back and staying in the fandom is a decision that i wont regret, cause this fandom, especially here, is how i met my closest friends in recent times, i made a fandom OC that people like, and its also where im comfortable to show my headcanons

Thank you to the community for all the works ya'll made, happy 4th anniversary! <3

[lionews]

i like how it’s always confirmed SO many people stalk this blog despite hating it lol. there’s always somebody like “hi, i’m person who was mentioned briefly here— fuck off” and you know a good few swear the regulars here are the swine of the site lel

.

[ramshacklerumble]

Gia and Finn having a weird little friendship is circling in my brain now. Gia really found this lil guy and was like "Yeah he's neat". Ace does not like Finn at all and now his bf hangs around him??? Unfair. (Finn finds Ace's suffering amusing)

lel well, gia and ace are just buddies until their junior year, but him pouting off to the side still checks out.

but it's hard to explain how friendships work with gia bc they wont go out of their way to befriend someone. people just wind up in their social circle by forced proximity more often than not and gia will just be like, 'i don't...DISlike them.'

and before they know it they've got a new buddy.

so what probs happened with finn is that gia crossed paths with him enough times to think, 'hes fine i guess'.

like they look so disinterested but they're capable of remembering something he mentioned in passing 12 weeks ago and be like: mm. this thing fits with that, he'd dig it.

and then either let him know about it or gift it directly

[duckduckgoose-exe]

lel not even that you’re incapable, but the amount of fully fledged disorders you LARP as having would see you being profoundly debilitated and probably in a facility full time. because you would not be fucking functional.

but let me get this straight you have fully fledged disassociative identity disorder (of all the cases of people with diagnosed DID the amount of adolescents who were diagnosed — 12-18 years of age — are less than 8%).

but not only that, apparently you have multiple fully formed personality disorders from two or three seperate clusters (even though the likelihood that you’d be diagnosed with any of those personality disorders is incredibly unlikely since you’re a teenaged girl going through the motions of teenagehood.) that doesn’t mean you have a personality disorder lel. oh also you’re also “hypersexual” and a “kleptomaniac”.

not to mention you bastardise and make a joke out of these things by going ‘hehe i have attention whore disorder hee hee look at me’ and then your egregious recitation of tiktok jargon leads me to believe you’re not any older than 13 years of age.

seems totally legit tho lawl

I’m actually not 13, and I’m in fact a good bit older than that. Still a minor tho :3

self diagnosis.

have you heard of masking. Have you heard of it. Also the comorbidity rates of a few of the personality disorders I MIGHT HAVE are pretty high. (And it’s only 2 clusters. Do your research before fighting me)

also DID is a covert disorder caused by childhood trauma. Oh noooo children having a disorder caused by childhood trauma.

grow up, honestly.

[g0rechan]

HCs on your OWN version of the spotted girl 👀

BET

TW: CSA mention

Ok so, in my au, she’s part of the freak show and believe me, she’s just as crazy and perverse as the other members.

I mentioned in another post she’d probably be like a mean older sister to Midori. She’s like a psychotic version of Shelley from South Park akkdjalamsns-

My hc name for her is ‘Kaoshimi’, it means “stained face” in Japanese.

She’s still referred to as “the spotted girl” in her stage performances.

She wasn’t hazed like younger Kanabun and Midori but when she first started out she was generally treated like crap and kinda ignored and tossed to side, similar to Midori in the 2016 film.

This girl is PENT UP with female rage. That’s her defining trait. She’ll get angry out of nowhere and beat the shit out of Midori, usually. Poor girl…

She likes to molest Midori too, often laughing and smiling when Midori cries and begs her to stop :(

Before Midori arrived, she and Kanabun would play fight a lot.

She loves climbing walls and getting on the roof and jump scaring people.

She and Kanabun love scaring and freaking out little kids for fun, especially Midori lels.

She also loves attention whether it’d physical, sexual, emotional, or whatever.

But she doesn’t know how to properly express such feelings so that’s why she is the way she is..

She loves climbing on Akaza and trying to screw around with Muchisute at night.

Speaking of which, Muchisute and Akaza don’t hate her persay but they do screw her every now and then when they feel like it.

Benietsu kinda finds her annoying but they get along sometimes.

She’s not always crazy; at times, she can calm down and engage in regular conversations with the members.

Like the other members, she’s very musty and doesn’t take care of herself often.

She smells like a wet dog.

She doesn’t shave (ofc, there’s nothing wrong with that!)

She also wears the ugliest and frumpiest shit ever lmao

I have yet to decide what her stage act would be…