#are like in the single digits. IF im lucky

[br1ghtestlight]

if nothing else i can take solace in the fact that i am a Deep Voiced Girl and the ladies love me

[am0ngtheb0nes]

Hes the prettiest boy Pelican town - should be allowed to be the flower queen.

[ddejavvu]

hi! I have a request for Criminal Minds…

It’s Dom!Spencer x fem or afab reader where they’re fucking and reader is sooooo gone that she’s not even catching Spencer’s degradations and praises anymore and just says stuff like ,,you’re so pretty,, or sucks his fingers without a single CARE in the world.

IM GOING TO HELL IM SORRY 😭 also, if you happen to do this, can I be “🏹” anon? apologies if you don’t do emoji anons, ignore this if you don’t. Thanks anyway! Love your writing I’m your biggest fan <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

warning for ooc spence: i get you dom!spencer fans and this one's for you <3 but the man had to ashamedly whisper the word 'bitch' while reading it off of evidence from a crime scene so i don't think this one is really in character 💔💔💔 hopefully it's good though <3

Everything about Spencer is divine. The hair that hands in caramel-colored waves around your face, tips tickling your skin and only offering more stimulation to an already overwhelming experience. His lips, pink and plump that suckle ravenously at your neck, leaving stinging patches in their wake that won't heal for days. His cock, impressively thick and moderately long, stretching your drooling cunt and bumping rapidly against a spot so deep inside of you you're not sure you knew it existed. His fingers, long, slender, and veined, laying heavy on your tongue and putting pressure on its base so that you gag. Drool spills out around his digits as your body shakes from the force of his thrusts, and the gentle, soothing hum of his voice is with you only in sound, not in meaning.

You're too far gone to recognize the words spilling from his lips as he fucks you, terms like 'slut', 'dirty', 'filthy', and 'dumb' that, on a normal day, would send you into a stammering, blushing mess of denial and excuses. But now you're basking in his saccharine tone, letting his words wash over you and evaporate before your fucked-out brain has time to process them.

"Everyone thinks you're a genius," Spencer croons, sucking hard at a spot against your throat as he jams his fingers onto your tongue, "They say I'm lucky to have found you, 'cause you can keep up with me. But I know the truth, angel." He holds your hip in place with a single calloused hand, "You go dumb on my cock. That's all it takes, isn't it? Just a few. short. minutes." He punctuates his accusations with particularly rough thrusts, "And I've got you braindead on my dick."

"Is that true, baby?" He asks, kissing his way up your jaw and tracing the curve with the stiff tip of his tongue. You're whimpering around the three fingers he's stuffed in your mouth, lips desperately milking them like you would his cock. He curls them on your tongue, pressing down so your speech is garbled, "Answer me, honey. You go stupid for me, don't you?"

"Love you," You manage to blabber, drool spilling from your lips as you speak around his fingers. You're a spluttering mess, spit pooled in your mouth that coats Spencer's digits and seeps down your chin. You suckle at him like a man starved, and the pressure actually starts to hurt between the wayward lapping of your tongue at the pads of his fingers, "Love you- Spence, love you."

He feels your cunt clench around his dick, your body seemingly in tune with the single goal of sucking him dry. He muffles a groan into the crook of your neck, wondering if you'll ever remember the filthy way he's speaking to you now.

The words are harsh, but they're used endearingly, and he hums them into your neck with a kiss, like it's a compliment, "Dumb slut."

[beenbaanbuun]

Love im addicted to you Matz and darling work!!✨pls make masterlist

Soooo I was thinking are they into role playing?? Like what scenario matz and darling choose??

I have one unholy one in my mind, what if mommy hwa ties hong to chair and make him watch as he takes darling ?? This would be soo🤌🏻🤌🏻

hello!!!! the masterlist is here!! she needs updating with the last few works but that’s a job for later im afraid 😭😭

——

they definitely like to add a little spice into the bedroom, and i was actually thinking about that very thing just the other day. hongjoong had been a little too bratty after waking up alone and had decided to take it out not just on darling, but also on seonghwa. now, darling knows better than anyone in that house that being a brat gets you nowhere, except in hongjoong’s case, where it gets you tied to a chair.

“comfy?” seonghwa purrs into his husbands ear as he tightens the last nod. hongjoong tries to wriggle a little, but to no avail. it doesn’t surprise him; seonghwa’s rigging skills are unmatched. hongjoong gives a little shake of his head in response to the question, a defiant look in his eyes as he glares up at his partner. “good; you’re not supposed to be.”

he hears a little giggle from across the room and his gaze shoots over to where you sit on the bed, completely bare and ready for the taking. his eyes narrow, determined to convey a message to you; he may be tied up, but he’s still your dom at the end of the day. you seem to understand it, but you never once wipe the smile from your face… fucking brat.

“you did this to yourself, mi amor,” seonghwa says, stalking his way over to where you sit. a pretty hand lands atop your head, tugging at you until you sit leaning against your mommy’s hipbone. you close your eyes in bliss as he brushes your hair from your face and hongjoong can’t help but feel annoyance bubble up within him at the sight. “hasn’t our little darling proved enough times that being a little shit gets you nowhere? haven’t you yourself dragged her over your lap enough for that little lesson to sink in?”

hongjoong, of course, has learnt that lesson. not only has he taught it to you plenty of times, but he’s also been on the receiving end a few more times than he’d like to admit. it doesn’t always end up with him tied to a chair, but it is always torture for him.

his eyes narrow as he watches seonghwa’s hand dip to your chin, gently caressing your soft skin before lifting your gaze from hongjoong to your mommy. the whimper you let out when a thumb slowly pushes its way between your lips is sinful. pair it with the wide eyes look you offer to his husband and its enough to make the devil himself let out a little prayer. only you could make innocence look so slutty…

“you know, you’re lucky my precious lamb is as understanding as she is,” the thumb is pulled from your mouth with a pop, a single string of saliva connecting the digit to the still parted lips. seonghwa swipes at them, smearing your own saliva against them. hongjoong almost cums in his pants when he sees you chase after the thumb, yearning to have something rested against your tongue once more. “she didn’t even snitch on you when you were being such a troublesome brat. seriously mi amor, refusing to let her sit with you simply because she grew too hungry to stay in bed with you this morning? it’s childish, isn’t it lamb?”

and although it really shouldn’t have, the question makes hongjoong smile. clearly seonghwa was in some sort of tyrannical headspace tonight; to punish hongjoong and then continue on to ask you such a leading question? he really is out for blood.

and it seems as though you can see it too. you blink up at seonghwa’s expression of faux-innocence, your lust addled brain taking just a moment longer to compute than usual. if you answer how seonghwa wishes for you to, hongjoong will no doubt pounce the moment he gets free of the restraints. if you don’t, seonghwa will no doubt take joy in punishing you too. you swallow down your worries as your mind races to decide which lover you’d rather have on your side.

“yes, mommy,” you whisper, your voice unsure and trembling. a proud smile forms on seonghwa’s face as you fall right into the trap he lay for you. he turns his head to face his husband, giving hongjoong a single look that tells all; take this punishment like a good boy, and taking care of you will be his reward…

[the-s1lly-corner]

Caine x reader HCs for how Caine would react if reader proposed to him? Romantic of course

(scurries behind a wall)

Caine x reader who proposes to him!

points at the wall i was gonna say something silly but i got distracted by the silly music im blaring in my headphones rn sobs

bold of you to assume he wouldnt propose to you first the second he gets his hands on a ring, of which he can likely summon at any given moment/j

that said if you were to propose to him first, i think he would blankly stare at the ring youve presented to him for a few seconds

not because you did anything wrong

nono you did nothing wrong... hes just a little surprised is all..!

before you can ask him if hes alright you just see his eyes get all wide, perhaps even sparkling like you see in cartoons and/or anime, and he just

says yes

not a simple yes, mind you. no, caine is always showering you in affection and compliments, going on entire tangents on every single little thing that he loves about you, gushing about you to everyone regardless of if theyre listening or not. pretty much spilling his heart out to you every chance that he gets.... and this is not going to be an exception, he launches into one of his monologues about how lucky he is to have you, how much he loves you, how yes hes going to marry you. probably starts planning your futures together before you can even slip the ring onto his finger

absolute sucker for love, i think. very much into stereotypical romantic tropes and gestures, so if you want a build up to the proposal i recommend a date. and a really good one. ask him out to dinner, hes going to take you to that fancy restaurant where he and bubble were... or perhaps ask him to the digital carnival, and propose to him at the top of the ferris wheel... or perhaps dont do a date. set him on a scavenger hunt where the final prize is you with the ring! you could even get some of the other circus members in on it!

immediately launches into wedding planning, no no no in fact he might even ask to get married right then and there! he can just 'magic' in the appropriate décor for the ceremony!

though if you tell him to slow down, he will attempt to contain his excitement

bubble is the officiant at the wedding/j

though, oddly enough i can see kinger having officiated a few weddings in the real world.. dont see him as a priest or anything like that, though, but it appears you dont need to be in order to be an officiant. cant explain why i can see him having done that, maybe its because hes old and i see him as a sap, buuuuuuuuut.. so if you dont want bubble to do it you can probably ask kinger/hj

gotta hit em with the angst, but imagine the exit to the digital world is found. like can you imagine having to make a choice between returning home and staying with your new husband

[dawneternal]

rant below

people will be like "I wish I could stay home and nap all the time like you" and like

no you don't it's literal hell. Not to suck my own dick but I'm such an ambitious person and I have drive and determination AND I can't do anything with it because I have "too sleepy syndrome"

Someone told me that sounds like an ideal problem to have and I wanted to punch them in the face. Do you understand what it means? That I can't stand up for more than an hour? Or even sit up for very long sometimes? Sure, I can push myself and just do it. But then I'll get sick and feverish with migraines and joint pain and I'll be even more useless than if I'd been allowed to pace myself.

For reference, the average level of exhaustion in a CFS patient is the equivalent of a normal person who's stayed up for 72 hours straight.

I can't work. I didn't finish my degree. I can't clean my room. I can't clean my shower. I can't drive. If it's not an activity I can do in bed, I've had to give it up. Its lucky that I like writing and digital art. (Roller-skating, biking, swimming, and hiking used to be my favorites, but suuuure I'm not actually sick Im just faking cause I hate exercise)

Every single day is exactly the same over and over and over and it's melting my brain. And there are people who still have the audacity to fight me when I call this syndrome a disability (including my own therapist)

I am grieving today. I had so many dreams.

[nine-of-words]

Out in the Cold (Part Four)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 4126

Content Warnings: Animal Death (Hunting/Self Defense), Injury (Animal Attack), Broken Bone, Blood

If something can go wrong, it will go wrong.

You wake with a confused snort. The only thing keeping you from tumbling to the forest floor below is your superb cat-like reflexes, your hands automatically darting out and gripping the branch you're perched on.

Your fingernails dig into the cold bark as your bleary mind tries to make sense of what happened. All around you are the snowcapped tops of evergreens. Much of the same sight from before you fell asleep has been blurred white by the flurries.

As you look around, the small pile of gathered snow falls from atop the hood of your cloak. Before you can get a firm grasp on your bearing, you’re distracted by a strange noise.

What is that…?

You freeze in place as you realize the sound is crunching snow. 

Nearby.

Footsteps? There's something moving around on the ground below you.

You look down, expecting to see a band of enraged orcs gathering around to shake you out of the tree and beat you to a fine pulp, but instead you see the hulking, striped form of a young winter-coated hexopard, sniffing around the base of the tree. 

It uses the claws on two of its six massive paws to dig at the bark, leaving large gouges in the hard surface of the tree like nothing more than lukewarm, spreadable butter. 

Damn. That’s a problem!

You bite your thumbnail in worry, mind racing for a solution.

The overgrown creature below you rears up, leaning its full weight on the tree and causing the wood to creak and groan. It stretches out its neck, following a scent that’s drawing it up the tree. Its twitching nose would be a great deal more adorable if it wasn’t the size of your fist and above a maw full of razor sharp fangs that could snap your bones like brittle twigs.

The way it's behaving, it’s either going to climb up, or the tree is going to snap under its weight and bring you crashing to the ground with it from a tall height. 

Terror settles in your gut, but you manage to stay calm. You absolutely have to figure out how to handle this - lest you end up as this creature's next meal, or broken from a fall from this height.

LAST SPRING

“And remember, the most important part of staying safe is being aware of your surroundings.” Torg’s deep voice easily projects out over the group without being too loud. “That’s why we hunt in pairs; Two sets of eyes always see more than one.”

You're in a newly set up hunting camp, listening to Torg address your little group; you, and eight tweenaged orclings. All of them are somehow scarily buff, despite barely being out of single digits in age. Some of them are already taller than you, and all of them are already wider.

While Torg talks, you take one last chance to look over your new bow.

It took some time and a lot of effort to finish it. Urguk’s family trade is carpentry, as it turns out. So, you spent a lot of afternoons trying to shape a usable riser and set of limbs out of hunks of wood, using machines in his family’s workshop that you’ve never even seen before, let alone knew how to use. But Urguk was more than happy to show you, and while he’s not the best at verbal instructions; he certainly makes up for that in enthusiasm. After several sessions, friction burns and splinters later, you ended up with a bow that was nearly functional. 

And even more lucky for you, Lurog is much better at giving instructions, and used their experience braiding to help you make your bowstring. She effortlessly knew the amount of strands you’d need for a light enough draw weight for you. Coating the strands in beeswax and braiding them together was the easy part, after that.

And now you have a new, practically shining weapon, tailor made by your own hand to suit your strengths. The first time you practiced with it after it was made, Torg was nearly blown away with how big of an improvement it made on your aim. You certainly didn’t have to quit mid-quiver, now.

And you have to admit, the admiration and praise from him felt quite nice…

Finally, it’s time to get to business after weeks of crash course training; you’re more than ready to see what the bow you slaved hours over can do. You’re aching to see the culmination of the daunting task of crafting an entire functioning weapon by hand, that you only managed to accomplish with the help of your friends.

Your friends…? 

Ugh. When did you start calling them that? 

It's not a good idea to get attached like this…

“Alright, is everyone ready?”

Your much younger compatriots' energetic voices sound around you in a loud and discordant, though affirmative, chorus. 

“...Absolutely!” You add a few seconds late.

Torg finishes addressing the group. The bubbling excitement of the youngsters you’re surrounded by is truly contagious, a pleasant buzz of activity in the back of your mind. 

The kids disperse with their chaperones - whom respectively give you a reassuring, tusky grin and a lazy thumbs up - as they pass with their charges in tow.

It seems that this year, things have been restructured to account for your presence. Urguk and Lurog are acting as chaperones for the four pairs of young orcs, there only to confirm their kills and to act as support if anything goes wrong. This is usually solely Torg's job, but they seem excited to be sharing the responsibility this time. You’re a bit surprised that some of the more seasoned hunters weren't the ones doing this job, but it occurs to you after some thought that they’re probably busy doing their own hunting, now that spring is here.

That left Torg open to act as both your chaperone and your hunting partner. Though you still have to make a solo kill, he'll be your second set of eyes. 

…You get the feeling he made things this way to shield anyone else from the potential mishap you're likely to cause, deciding instead to take any  resulting damage that may result himself. 

You huff at the thought. You’ll show him.

You suppose it’s for the best. Over the last few weeks of archery practice, you think he’s gotten a lot more relaxed with you, and he’s not the worst company to be stuck with in the woods for an extended period… At least you’ll be safe if anything happens, you try to convince yourself that’s the only reason.

The chaperones and pairs of orclings gradually depart from camp. You're left with only your own chaperone/hunting partner, alone in the newly verdant forest clearing.

“A rousing speech as always.” You grin and gesture to your own sleek face. “I like what you’ve done with the beard.”

“Hmm, thanks.” He rubs the short, newly trimmed shape of his facial hair. “I always cut it back this time of year. Otherwise it collects pollen and I’m sneezing all the time.”

“I see.” You smile, thinking of his thick, dark hair dusted yellow-green instead of the sleek, neatly-trimmed thing it is now. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Torg's mouth takes on a small curl of a wry smile before adding, "Boss."

You can't help but laugh, and make your way through the trees, as well, though you head in the opposite direction of the other group.

It takes you a long time to find any hint of a wild animal, even despite it being the season when nature is bursting at the seams with young rabbits, elk yearlings and various types of fowl.

You finally manage to find clear traces of a hooved herbivore grazing. Between the hoof prints in the soft areas of ground and the occasional mark of antler velvet being rubbed against trees, you determine it's most likely an elk. You follow the signs as best you can through the woods, following the path the creature took likely some hours earlier.

After a while of tracking, you crest a small incline, and through the twiggy branches you can make out the form of your quarry. A young male elk grazes in the fresh spring grass of the area below the overhanging slope you stand on.

It's a bit big for you to take down on your own with only your light bow, and you can basically hear Torg thinking the same thing behind you. You had expected to kill a hare or maybe a spring quail, but this elk is the first living creature besides Torg you've laid eyes on for several hours. 

You need to get this one. Your ego won’t let you pass it up.

But it’s angled slightly towards you. If you shoot it like this, your arrow won’t be able to get past the elk’s shoulder bone - resulting in a long, messy death, rather than a quick and much less painful one for either of you.

You nock an arrow and line up your shot, steadying your breathing and waiting for the elk to move to a better position. 

And finally it does, turning broadside to reach what must be a particularly succulent looking patch of grass.

Your arm doesn't shake anymore when you draw back the string. 

You hold your breath and loose the arrow - just as the deer turns slightly back towards you.

The arrow hits it and stays lodged behind its shoulder. Luckily the arrow didn’t glance off the bone, but it’s closer to the front of the animal rather than where it needs to be on the side.

The elk lets out an alarmed bellow and bounds off through the woods, leaving a bright red sanguinous trail to follow. 

"Dammit-" You hiss in irritation, rising hastily from your crouch to tail the wounded animal.

"Don't worry." You hear Torg encourage in uncharacteristic low volume as you pass by him. "You'll get it."

You track the cervid once again, this time slightly easier given the literal colored line leading you to it. After nearly another hour of following the trail through the brush, you come to a clearing. 

You walk out into the middle of the empty space, where the blood trail immediately stops dead, ending in a large collected pool on the grass with no indication of anything leaving it. Somehow, there is no sign of the wounded elk anywhere.

The clearing is devoid of movement and sound - all the sounds of small animals moving through the brush and bird calls have completely stopped.

It’s downright creepy.

You approach the bloodstained area, not caring to avoid the cracking twigs under your boot while you crouch beside the ominous puddle to investigate. 

It’s blood, alright. But the trail seemingly leads to nowhere. You stand back up, irritated. Your tail swishes angrily, slapping at the grass at your feet with the end of each twitching arc.

You did everything right! Why are things going wrong now?

“What in the hell-?” You motion widely with your hands, palms up. “Did it get up and fly away, then?! Maybe it ascended to heaven!”

“Wait-” Torg says your name in a stern voice as he reaches the edge of the clearing behind you.

A large glob of something wet drips into the middle of your outstretched palm.

Your eyes dart to the source of the wetness, a rivulet of red now slowing tracking down the tendon in your wrist.

Blood.

Your head snaps up, and you see the now lifeless corpse of the elk, now half-eaten, with one of your arrows still buried in its shoulder. It’s lodged into the crook of one of the branches of the large tree overhanging the clearing, legs and antlers dangling limply.

“W-W-What in the hell!” You wheeze out again, paralyzed by fear, your legs planted firmly to the ground.

“Don’t turn around. Back up. Slowly.” Torg continues, deadly serious.

Your legs just aren’t listening to your command to function. They may as well be made of jelly.

Even less so when you spot the culprit that stored the elk in the tree.

Glittering, fixed eyes meet yours. A silent behemoth- an adult male hexopard, still clad in winter coat- becomes clear in your vision through the camouflage of the underbrush. It’s crouched predatorily at the other end of clearing. Lying in wait, ready to launch itself at any moment. A ring of wet crimson coats the fur around its mouth.

You barely choke back the scream, only managing to because your life may depend on it.

“Listen-” Torg says your name again, much more desperate this time. “I know it's scary. But you have to move.”

You want to, but you just can’t. You can’t move, can’t bring any words to escape your choked-shut throat.

“It will be alright. Don’t turn your back on it,” Torg repeats, this time both firmer and more pressed, but still somehow comforting. “Slowly. Come to me.”

Unthinking, you tilt your head to look back at Torg- maybe to better plan your escape route, maybe for reassurance- but either way, it is a mistake.

In a snap, the stillness of the situation breaks. 

Everything moves so fast. The hexopard lurches forward at top speed, covering ground at an alarming pace with its six, agile limbs.

You’re about to be devoured.

But you don’t die horribly - instead you’re slung forcibly out of the way, nearly toppling over your own feet in the process. 

You stumble to regain your balance as Torg places himself between you and the hexopard. His spear is up between his hands, a horizontal bar smashed into the hinge of the beast’s jaw. It snarls and gnashes, trying to break free from the makeshift bit with fang and claw.

“Hrrgh- RUN!” He shouts at you, his arms straining with all they have to keep the massive creature impeded.”RUN NOW!”

You know you should flee, but -

This thing will outrun you in seconds if it gets past Torg, and you can’t withstand even a single hit the way he clearly can.

You make a split decision to disobey Torg’s instruction. Your legs instead carry you as fast as possible towards the nearest tree not containing a dead elk, and you hastily begin to scale the tree. If you get up here, you can probably at least hit it with some arrows-

“NO! IT CAN CLIMB!” Torg shouts at you between the snarling he’s doing in an attempt to intimidate the beast, noticing your change in plan. “YOU HAVE TO GET-”

Before Torg can complete his thought, the wooden haft of the weapon holding it back snaps in half with a sickeningly loud crack. The middle of the wooden shaft is crunched to splinters between the animal’s powerful, sharpley fanged jaw. The spear’s body is separated into two ragged pieces.

The hexopard uses the force of the stored up energy releasing to take Torg down, knocking him supine, where it bears down on him. 

Torg raises the back of his bracer-covered forearm, lodging it in its mouth in the spear’s place, to keep the creature away from his face and throat.

Torg has dropped the blunt end of his spear, but the tipped end stays in his hand as an improvised blade - anything to stab and gouge in an attempt to fight back as he struggles on the ground.

Shit, shit, shit- I have to do something- 

Or Torg’s going to- 

Going to-

You can't even bring yourself to even think about it.

You cradle your head in your hands, not even noticing the elk blood you’re smearing in your hair, desperately trying to squeeze a good idea from between your temples.

The hexopard’s jaw finally readjusts its grip and clamps down hard, crunching down full force on Torg’s forearm, and assumingly, straight into bone. Torg lets out a bellow in pain, still striking at the beast’s face and head one handed with all of the strength he has left.

But what can you even do? Your hands can’t be trusted to hold your bow with how badly they’re trembling in abject horror, let alone still being slippery from blood.

You’re weak and useless, as always-

The predator drops his arm to go for his neck. Torg’s opposite gloved hand holding the creature’s snout at bay is his last resort to keep the menacing jaws from fully mauling him. You can see cyan-hued blood running down his arm as it tremors, his strength threatening to fail any moment now.

That's when you remember the other weapon you have access to - your trusty dagger, resting concealed on your belt, like it always is.

The beast’s jaws slip past Torg’s grip and snaps forward to rip out his throat. Torg barely manages to turn his head fast enough to survive, instead the fangs piercing the leather armor covering Torg's shoulder and sinking into his flesh.

“Hhrngh-!” Torg grits his teeth, struggling in vain to pry the creature's mouth from his deltoid with his hand. 

Your hesitation is driven away - it may be a stupid idea, but you need to at least try to help before it's too late.

At least if you fail and you both die, you won't have a whole tribe of orcs seeking revenge on you for getting their chieftain killed.

You unsheathe your trusty dagger, holding it with both hands as you quickly adjust your positioning.

You take a deep breath.

Then, you pounce.

A dizzying spin of pale colors swirls in your vision as you descend. The weight of your body drives the full force of your fall through the knife. You land on your feet (of course) on the furred back of the creature with a thump. Your dagger buries into the back of the hexopard's neck, right below the base of the skull, sinking down to straddle the creature’s back to try to keep yourself from being flung off.

The beast releases its clamp on Torg in surprise. It thrashes and roars in a spray of blood, now fully focused on you. It tries to throw you off or twist back to bite at you, but it's too late.

You continue to leverage the blade with all your body weight until you feel a snap, and the creature lets out one last long, mournful waul before falling completely limp and silent. 

Breaths wild and heaving, you look at Torg's pale expression of awe below you, momentarily stunned yourself. 

Then you snap back to your senses, sheathing your blade and rolling off the hexopard's back to help Torg to wriggle free from beneath the beast’s deadweight.

Soon, with your moderate assistance, he's dragged himself clear of being pinned. He holds his palm to the weeping holes in his shoulder, staunching the heavy flow of cool toned blood from his wound. 

He lets out a low groan as he stubbornly tries to get to his feet with only the use of one of his thick arms.

"Don't stand up yet… I-" Your hands don't stop shaking as you dig through your pack, searching for your first aid supplies. The adrenaline in your veins is making all of the heavy emotions feel far away for now. "Let me at least patch you up first."

He grunts affirmatively and leans back against the base of the tree you were just perched in. 

The first thing you do is hand him one of the healing draughts tucked at the top of the kit.

"Thanks." He pops the cork from the vial with his thumb, draining it one handed before handing back the spent bottle. "Have a feeling I'll need it."

“Yeah. I… think I would’ve much preferred the elk maul you.” You say, trying to make light of the situation. “Are horribly dangerous big cats usually skulking around baby’s first hunting trip?”

“No, they are supposed to have woken up from hibernation and migrated for spring by now. Big guy was probably a late riser and driven mad by the hunger.”

You start to tend to his wounds; you’re not the best medic, but you at least know enough to manage to clean a wound and put on a bandage.

“Your blood is blue too.” You observe with a small laugh, though you’re not sure why you said that of all things.

“Yeah-” Torg sucks in a hiss of air at the sting of the antiseptic coated cloth meeting his cuts. “Mom’s a troll- A giant.” 

“Well, that certainly explains a lot about you.” You work to bandage the large wound first, then any other ones on his arms, hands and face that are profusely leaking. “A bit surprised you didn’t mention being half troll by now.”

“Completely different kind of troll than what you are. Didn’t seem important.”

“A troll is still a troll!” You laugh incredulously.

Torg simply rolls his eyes at you, apparently too exhausted to continue to argue.

Then you come to his left arm, which doesn't seem to look quite right.

“Your arm…”

“S’broken.” He says simply, as if he was telling you what he had for breakfast instead of something this upsetting. “Not my first broken bone. Shaman will fix me up.”

After you’ve cleaned and bandaged the bite wound under his bracer, you help make a makeshift splint with your unstrung bow.

“At least this came in handy in some way today.” You chuckle as you begin to tie the strips of cloth to secure his arm to it. It earns an amused snort from him, and you’re happy as long as he’s conscious and interacting.

You work in relative silence after that. You glance up to check he’s still lucid when you see his dark eyes resting on you.

Maybe it’s the flood of emotion rushing back into your brain as the adrenaline wears off, but you can’t help but feel incredibly fond of him right now. 

You also can’t help but think - maybe a bit strangely, given the current circumstances - that he looks very handsome, even like this.

“Yes?” You say, smirking, your ears twitching as you try to banish the strange thought.

“...You didn’t run when I told you.” Torg admonishes you with a grunt, his voice hoarse.

“Oho, is that really something you’re going to scold me for? Right now?” You say incredulously, gesturing to his general state of injury. “That stinking behemoth would’ve bitten your head off next if I hadn’t disobeyed you, you know!”

“I know. You made the right call.” He nods. The smile he gives you exudes pure pride. It's a foreign expression for you to see him with- to see anyone with, when it comes to you- and one you're not used to being on the receiving end of in general. “Thank you.”

"Sure." You try to ignore how flustered this makes you, and help him get to his feet. It must just be your emotions being unhinged from the ordeal. “I would’ve been an appetizer if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way first, so I suppose we can call it even.”

Luckily, his lower body is generally unharmed, so he can still walk unassisted. Once he gets some stronger pain medicine from camp, he’ll likely be able to make the trip back to the settlement with little issue. 

Torg stubbornly insists on giving the dead hexopard a look over before you leave. He has to confirm your kill, apparently.

You don’t even want to look at it anymore, the remorse heavy in your gut. You’re a thief, not a murderer - you don’t personally relish in killing living things, even animals. Hopefully hexopard meat is edible, so it nor the elk’s death isn’t pointless, but… At the end of the day, between the hexopard dying or Torg, you much prefer that it wasn’t Torg.

“Imagine that, a little cat killed that huge beast on his first hunt!” He remarks in amazement as he looks over the huge carcass. “Never seen anything like it in my years of being Chieftain so far.”

“I mean, usually this trial is done by children, right? That would be quite a feat.” You chuckle in turn. “I’d hate to encounter the little bastard that could manage this...”

Torg seems to find that quite funny as he bellows out a laughing fit, having to wipe a tear from his eye with his good hand.

“You should be proud.” He adds when he’s composed himself. “It’s a great achievement to take down something so large, all on your own.”

“I didn’t do it on my own.” You assert with a smile. “I had an excellent distraction.”

You think, perhaps, you’ll leave this out of the next message to your guildmaster as well…

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[no-stupid-questions-official]

Ive been watching a bunch of tornado videos recently including one covering like medieval records of them. And im curious to why the death tolls seems way smaller than what the destruction of the areas suggest? Its obviously still a terrible event to experience. But when i read about an F5 tornado leveling an entire neighborhood it feels like the death toll would be up in the hundreds, but often it seems to be single or double digits. And this includes old records before ppl could evacuate with cars etc. are we just rly rly lucky?

-

[starredforest]

It's so sad how monetizeable digital versions of card games have become, remember when we'd get just like, a single player pokemon card game? Yugioh card game? Digimon card game??? Without the hassle of having to spend real world cash, with pack opening features and full game simulation? Multiplayer options too, come on. Now if we're lucky enough to get something like that you better believe the gacha demons are gonna swarm it for all its worth. Better believe it'll be a pretty penny to assemble your deck, or a never ending list of hours of play time. Im tired.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

I hope yall enjoyed valentines day

Single and aro people - i like to treat myself on this day... i got a box of kinda expensive choccies for myself... good stuff! Like on christmas, it can feel kinda sad and empty to see people presenting picture perfect lives and happiness. Make sure you reach out to friends if you feel low. I guess i accepted a long time ago that the picture perfect life is a lie so it doesnt impact me too much, except for when food is related, because im deeply jealous of families that have hearty shared meals and also cuddles >:(

HOWEVER i was not single this year! Yknow, i've never dated before, not even in school (was super closeted), and im lucky rn... had a super fun date night with kimberly @phosphoricbomb which involved monster hunter (YEAAAA) and pretending to share the aforementioned chocolates over a digital camera, lmao.

So i did make shera valentines day fic and fanart, cos i made it for her!!! Im split on whether im going to post the whole thing here or not. It was very silly and involved every character, including guns, radiation poisoning, and robot cheesoids.

And in return... she gave me the Heart of Etheria!!!

Lookaddit!!! You know how much wire and hammering she used to get a teleporter over here??!

We also watched "But I'm a Cheerleader" which is a brilliant and hilarious film from 1997, about a super popular cheerleader girl from a church family being the most obvious closeted lesbian ever, and then being sent to a Conversion Therapy Camp. The thing about sending gay kids to a camp filled with other gay kids is that shenanigans are going to ensue. Wonderfully gay film. Gave me feelings because again i was super closeted as a teenager and thought my attractions were wrong.

[etoile-gracieuse]

im so sorry yall im regressing into all sorts of old obsessions these days.

just saw a post talking abt why dex (and jack at one point) from check please would be banned from aux at parties (im not reblogging bc it is from 2020 and i dont want to argue with anyone i just want to explain why im right LMAO) and all of the reasons they gave were. What. i had a haus of my own, only for a significantly larger team (track not hockey), and i know my experience is not universal and there's definitely someone out there who Also had a team and a team house w big parties that disagrees w everything i say etc etc but like. it is so odd to see people's ideas abt how that goes when it's the complete opposite of my experience

me rambling abt expectations vs reality for music at parties hosted by doofus athletes for doofus athletes below the cut with a short aside about how canon's housing is deeply confusing to me

it's not just party music assumptions that confuse me, it's on all sorts of levels, like the haus being their only team related off campus space. we had... 11?? off campus houses?? and even if you narrow it down to just houses w mens distance runners in it (approx the same number of people as umich's hockey team rosters) then we had 5 houses plus underclassmen in dorms. like the math is not mathing if there's just the 3 bedroom plus attic haus. what 21/22 year old is choosing to live in a traditional dorm. there's just no way your options as an upperclassman are "be lucky enough to be one of Maybe 6 that can squeeze in if several people share rooms" or "live in dorms. hopefully you get a single" when theoretically they should be averaging like 6.5 people per class year. not the point, a gripe i have w canon really anyways, whatever.

but the collective sense of what goes for party music... i get that the canon era is like 2013 to 2018 or so but like i have met some of our class of 2018 alumni. and i feel preeetty confident in saying the below was also true then.

'he would play come on eileen [and get banned]' - im sorry but that was played at LEAST once per party at my athlete frat house, how is that an aux-bannable offense

"they would be like 'we want party music not sea shanties'" - shipping up to boston is a Thing (capital T deserved). and rattlin bog. do you know how many drinks i have finished while listening to/playing rattlin bog. that is a classic drinking game (i double checked to make sure this wasnt invented like right before i hit college or smthn and found a tweet referencing it from 2014). also we did actually several sea shanties at a st pattys party (our aux guy did have to be bullied into it. worth it) though i would not say that that one's a universal experience.

"this absolute ding dong [jack] says 'i like carrie underwood' and is never asked for his input again" - you're telling me you haven't gotten down in a house full of stolen signs that is falling apart at the seams to before he cheats???? i have watched 22 year old 6'7" men stand on tables and truly Perform their hearts out to this song and you're telling me that holster wouldn't pull that shit?

"plays country and gets banned" - see: before he cheats. but also our most popular party theme (aside from disco i think) was farm party. we had hay bales and apple bobbing. our number of international harvester streams hit double digits before midnight. i did not go to college in the south, or in the middle of nowhere, or any of that. even city kids like to get drunk in overalls and cowboy hats singing about farmers' daughters sometimes

"he just plays dad rock" - i think once again people underestimate how hard college kids go for shit like that when theyre drunk. i have watched people pole dance around a basement support beam to billy joel and bruce springsteen before (admittedly not super frequently but also often enough that i think i have 2-3 videos of it happening). ok actually im looking at a dad rock list and. what do you mean people havent danced to queen at parties. or the killers? or the fratellis? no chelsea dagger or henrietta? no american pie at 2am when youre so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open but youre leaning on your friends and swaying enough to call it dancing so it's ok?? no the boys are back in town???

[nickssidewitch]

https://www.tumblr.com/nickssidewitch/752210864251224064/hellllloooooo-could-i-make-a-request-pls-do-you?source=share

choosing friendship over love any day! 😌 and me vibing with them is so cool 🥹🥹

u see i'm a nick girlie, and being friends with him would be a dream come true

other than that, girl, you're fast asf with the reply, like, i just sent it a day ago 😭😭😭

and u seem so sweet too, i rarely see ppl compliment requests, but u compliment almost all of 'em, i've noticed

not to be nosey, but r u single? cuz dayum, i love ur vibes, your partner lucky asf

IM NOT JEALOUS BTW

bye, for now, pookie

drink water, take care, outta topic but do u like cats?

- peace out ✌️

Aw, you’re so kind!! 🥰😭 I always make sure to compliment requests because it’s nice to make someone’s day better with the kindest of words! And being someone who can read people’s energies (even people through a digital screen), I can also sense the words of encouragement or affirmation that people may need in that moment! 🧘🏾‍♀️✨

I have a Nick bias, too (hence the username 😭😭)! Love seeing us all come together and agree on wanting to be friends with him 🙏🏾.

And am I single? Absolutely 😭. And have been for many years. Thank you for your compliments lmao 🤍🥰

Take care of yourself and you drink some water as well 🫵🏾💧.

And yes, I loveee cats! Here’s a cute cat gif for ya! 🐈🤍✨

[digitaldiaryforme]

dear []

i would type your name but digital footprint is a real and scary thing and i am endlessly scared you'll find this.

anyway, i wanted to write to you because i miss you. how stupid is that. it's been 6 or so months since we last spoke. 6 months since i heard your voice.

well thats bullshit because i hear your voice a lot but 6 month since youve spoken to me. 6 months since ive heard my name come out of your mouth. i never liked my name, i still don't, but i loved hearing you say it. you made it sound better, you made it sound right. 6 months since ive heard you laugh.

i don't remember what it sounded like. and that is the emptiest feeling of all. i remember what you looked like laughing. your eyes would literally light up, and it would make me smile and i can see you laughing but the memory is silent. i dont know what i said to make you laugh, but im grateful i did. still, i wish i could hear it again, just once more.

just once more. thats a concept i've been going over and over when i can't sleep. just once more. i don't think it's asking for much. i just want to hear you laugh once more. once. then we can go back to this horrible no-speaking shit we have now. you act like i don't exist, like i'm invisible. not really, actually, because i catch you looking at me sometimes.

how can you watch me and not feel anything?

i look over to you and my heart leaps for a moment when our eyes meet. then one of us looks away and shatters the moment.

remember when we could do that for hours?

i do. sitting across from each other, you were tracing patterns on my leg, and then i braided that part of my hair and you put that clasp in it and now you know this is about you. because i know you remember that.

i still have that clasp. somewhere in my room, buried with those photos of us from the

i don't want to say it because i think you'll recognize the name so just know the clasp is with photos of us.

we don't have many photos. all the ones i have of us have other people in them. i have a few of just you. i took photos of you and you begged me to send them to you. i never did.

i would kill for a photo of you and me. or a video. or any evidence, physical evidence, that we even knew each other. it would make closing the door that bit easier, because then even without you in my life anymore, i would at least know you were once in it.

school ends in 2 months. then i'll never see you again. (unless you end up at my uni, we never spoke about where we were applying) i have this stupid fantasy that i unblock you and you unblock me and we talk again.

i have a stupider dream that we speak again at the last 'party' for the kids leaving in our school. i get to say sorry and i get to hear your voice again. if i'm lucky i make you laugh. and then we just have each other in our lives again.

not having you in my life is one of the single strangest things i've ever experienced. from everyday, just one message away to this. i dont have any way of contacting you anymore.

you traced patterns on my thigh, and told me my eyes were beautiful and you said you thought i was pretty and now you are not in my life.

how do you sleep? how are you not always thinking about us the way i do? how do you look at me in school and not want to run and say something like i do?

i miss you.

i really miss you.

i miss the friend i had before all of this. i just want to hear your voice again. please speak to me again.

love,

me

[letsreblogartstuff]

for the most part these days i don't get upset over how little engagement I get, but every now and then it does just kinda hit.

I've been drawing and posting almost consistently for years now; there's sometimes a lull where I take a break, but I always go back and get active again. I follow other artists, interact with them, am constantly drawing and working and posting - but on every single place where I post, I'm lucky if any sort of engagement manages to reach double digits. on here I'm lucky if I get one like, even with the amount of people who clearly followed for the art.

been three years of working on original art and it just feels like im trying to run up an endless, fast moving downwards escalator :''')

[erlkonigstochter]

[[MORE]]

Depression has been kicking my ass lately. I know logically that writing is one of the few things that brings me joy and that’s why I want to continue, but also it’s just been so hard and discouraging that all my brain wants to do is think about how pointless it all is and how I should give up. I keep trying to remind myself that I like creating so that’s why I keep trying, but sometimes it does feel like I’m only a couple steps away from giving up on everything.

[beaversatemygrandma]

Well shit i think nintendo has set it up to where I’ll totally upgrade my switch internet thing to the more expensive bundle. In 2023 at least. Pokemon Stadium. DUDE. POKEMON STADIUM. It’s no XD but oooh. I’d pay for a month of the upgrade to try it out.

EDIT: I just realized i was thinking of Pokemon Coliseum. I might pass. Nm. Post cancelled. :/