#treed

[minarachelle]

Bij Cascade de Bayehon, Belgium - 2022

[thatsbelievable]

[invisiblegarabgetruck]

JERRY ITS DECEMBER,

YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEAN‼️‼️

[lynaferns]

Not to brag, but uh *leans on door frame* I recently sweep my room and changed the bed sheets.

(it didn't take me months of thinking about it but not doing anything)

((at all))

[sepetajmikolikomehoces]

Has this been done?

[emilybeemartin]

tag writing game

Thank you @nihilizzzm for creating this game and @ass-deep-in-demons for tagging me!

If you are a writer, share a piece of your yet unfinished writing. Can be a sentence or a dialogue or anything really. Short, long, whatever. I want to see what you all are working on and admire some amazing writing. I think it might be fun. Here is mine from forever unfinished one shot.

I know you all want fic, lol, but I'm going to keep that close to my chest for the moment, so have the opening excerpt from a very baby manuscript about a National Park ranger whose job is the same as normal except there are also mythical creatures:

Sam Baxter was going to be late for work, and it was all because of the stupid dragon. The specimen was a juvenile, not yet a decade old, without any of the mottled patterning of maturity on its gray-gold scales. It was a male, given the size of his horned crest and the red flush to the keratin. The yellow plastic tag punched through one of its cranial scales identified him as E-617, one of the offspring of the Echo clan that occupied territory around Swan Flats, but Sam didn’t need to see the code to know who he was. This juvenile was known to all the park staff of Yellowstone. They’d gotten emails about him just last week, after he’d tried to fight a minibus in the Mammoth hotel parking lot. Six One Seven was entering his first season of sexual maturity, and he was more hormone-addled than a gym full of high school juniors on prom night.

Tagging @e-louise-bates @chiropteracupola @kaatiba no stress, only if yall want to

[mostly-tame]

Wants a McSquirrel

[scrion7]

IT'S A WOODEN MARIONETTE

Penny's sword got turned into a wooden, inanimate doll and Ruby's heart, her very soul, told her to pick it.

bro why they do this to me

[ikebanaka]

I love Yoo Joonghyuk. This bitch really said peace out and tried to exit the scene by climbing a fucking tree

[neattnat]

UPDATED BLOOMING FLOWERS REF

[notwiselybuttoowell]

Sophia Tolstaya and friend

[everymadara]

Chapter 656

[lokiinmediasideblog]

It seems like Loki is not the only Norse God that's been turned into a tree in adaptations despite it not being part of their respective mythos. Apparently Freyja was TAJ's Odin,Ullr,Baldr, and Bragi's mom (the dynamics here are WHACK and follow nothing). And she turned into a tree because she thought it was horrible to be the mother of 4 gods.

[horsesarecreatures]

Then here is how the Edix Alydar did... pretty good. It’s definitely a saddle I’d like to have, but they’re pricey. The Barefoot Nottingham is considered ok for jumping as far as weight distribution goes, but since its designed kind of like a baroque saddle it puts me in a bad position and I wind up landing harder and having a lower leg that swings back more, so that’s why I’m jumping Amba bareback a lot now. 

[mintywolf]

Remember Us - Chapter 11

Red wind whips Imogen’s hair into her eyes, blinding her. Long meadow grasses, so soft in the daylight, lash knife-sharp against her knees, opening tiny cuts in her skin. She turns, trying to set her bearings by the distant shape of the farmhouse, but the churning clouds are already so close that more than a few feet away there is nothing but ruddy opacity. Lightning splits the reddened clouds, briefly sketching the contours of the surrounding valley upon her vision.

Against the roiling sky, on the crest of the hill, a familiar shape is walking, unsteady against the wind but with purpose, into the storm. A loose-limbed doll of a figure, ragged skirts and trailing hair. Another lightning strike etches the flickering outline of a black and skeletal tree against the darkness, and then it’s gone.

Imogen starts to run up the slope, into the storm. Beneath the clouds the figure lifts her arms to the sky and flings herself into a teetering twirl with the joyous abandon of a child. The wind carries the sound of her high, breathless laughter as it engulfs her.

“Laudna!” Imogen screams, raw-throated, into the wind. And then, at last. “Matilda!”

The dancing figure totters to a stop and turns to look down at her, her face alight with surprise and delight. She is still smiling when the lightning strikes her.

(Read more on AO3)

[externalconceit-1]

@hxllblazer

London, England Spring, 2024 1:00 A.M.

The house is one of those places on Avenue Road: red brick, two-story with large windows to let in the daylight. As for the lot, it's bigger than anyone in London ought to be allowed. The grass rustles beneath Constantine's feet as he prowls across the lush green lawn. Crickets chirp softly, then go silent when he passes.

Somewhere behind the high wooden fence around the backyard, a dog barks. All in all, it's a lovely night to whip out one's equipment and take a leak on some rich asshole's house.

Great plan! At least until an entire chorus of barks cut through the quiet of the night. One by one, three collie dogs scratch and scrabble at those high--really really high!--fences. One by one, they haul themselves over, claws clicking on the pavement as they land.

They're also... (really really large!) for such dainty-looking dogs. And what white teeth they have as their lips peel back! What deep growls. They charge him, teeth bared and ears flat. They keep growling, and they bark, hackles raised and tails high.

A glow of light flicks appears behind the curtains.