#treehive

[chlorophasmic]

HEHEHEH. OUTSIDE OF THE CIRCLING.. THE OUTSKIRTS ARE MY SPECIALTY. I GUESS... WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS STUFF WHEN YOU GET HERE? I'M NOT AS GOOD WITH WORDS OFFLINE, BUT IT MIGHT BE EASIER TO HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT EVERYTHING WHEN WE CAN BACK AND FORTH MORE ORGANICALLY. (DOES THAT COUNT AS A PUN? PROBABLY NOT)

you could still tell me about it! i mean, youd kind of still have to tell me about it either way so idk if thered be that much of a difference

im not even sure? its hard for me to tell what the last things that happened were, because i feel like i spent so much of that time going in circles doing the same things over and over again. so its always like, which time was it that i tried to hurt the angel, got into a fight with futurekat, did something self destructive, etc? who knows!!!! i do remember you being telrian and talbern though. that ones outside of the circling

[chlorophasmic]

==> [S] Treekat: Await. (@fatalroyale)

==> There's no shortage of time in the woods, even as the seasons crept and mingled to show its definite passage. You were in a similar state of leisure as you went about, gently motioning to the canopy engulfing the treehive to finish framing the broadened doorway into the ground floor you'd developed especially for your guests!

==> It wouldn't be much longer until they came, now. With a glance to where they'd spawn in, just outside the little cottage you'd assembled, you finished laying out the blankets in the coat closet before casting another peek to the glade from the opened entryway, hardly noticing the brush of a calico tail against your leg as little cats went about exploring the new space.

[trollwizard]

Your name is-- WAIT, HUH?

You're KARBAL MONTAZ and you're the GUARDIAN OF THE WOODS.

But we won't get into that today. Largely, for context here, you're the matesprit of one FAFNIR DRAKON. You're the type to mind your own business, keeping to your NECK OF THE WOODS. Literally. You love CRAFTING and CARPENTRY, having built your treehive into a veritable MANSION. You like to goof off with your moirail, TRIPPH SINENSIS, and butt heads often with your hoity toity kismesis, MERLE RIDDEL.

You go by she/her, you're around 14 sweeps, and your blood is minty forest GREEN.

~

Your name is TRIPPH SINENSIS and you've got the TOUCH. You've got the POWER.

MAGIC flows through you like plasma and platelets. You don't think too much of it; it's so SECOND NATURE to you, after all.

Maybe some day you'll wax poetic about it. For now, though, you'll introduce yourself as the matesprit of one BEABEA PTERAN, and the moirail to KARBAL MONTAZ. You think FAFNIR DRAKON is quite peachy, too. You're quite the social guy!

You go by he/him, and you're about 14 sweeps old. Blood? Hm, let's just call it green for now, okay?

~

You are now MERLE RIDDEL, and you are going to TAKE WHAT YOU WANT.

A talented DESIGNER and FASHIONISTA by trade, you know how CUTTHROAT society can be, especially at the caste you are.

But outside of your extraordinary talents and drive for SUCCESS, you would proudly proclaim yourself the matesprit of one SIGURD MENSCH. The bloodthirsty rival of KARBAL MONTAZ. And generally amiable to most others.

You go by she/her. Like your peers, you're 14 sweeps old. As for your blood? It's a gloriously bold GOLD.

~

Now granted, none of you LIVE here, so to speak. You're from... let's say... out of town. But maybe you'll chime in now and then, huh? Wouldn't that be fun?

[the-rainbow-overflow]

Hey dar how's the pitch flirting going?

>-(<) I-what? (>)-<

You seem to have blindsided him once again. This time while he's sitting on one of the treehive porches, laptop on his lap and fingers to the keys.

>-(<) I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just... critiquing this person's work. They've oh so generously done so for a lot of mine. I'm simply returning the favor. As a fellow writer. (>)-<

[phoe-ix]

Top 5 structureships list? For me?

OKATY Nymber 1 ius OF COURSE CarRide (joel’s family car x bamboozler’s rollercoaster)

number 2 ids def gotta be BamBarn (bam mountain and gem’s barn)

Next up we got a rarepair, but I’m saying the Las Nevadas casino and the qsmp wall. Specifically the chunk that got blown up on day one. they r soooo doomed yaoi.

Numero four is probably TreeHive (soldier’s treehouse and the hive) (from an smp I’m on myself, yall wouldn’t know them </3)

and last but not least we got bridge yuri (sign bridge and the birdge, also from an smp im on)

[the-rainbow-overflow]

Treehive dwelling nerdman. Does a lot of wood working, collects knives and daggers. Adores bugs.

The most normal of my trolls tbh.

🐮 Heti Judgements 🐮

Come see what this big punk-goth girl has to say about you :)

[ralphroether]

TreeHive HotHive Mead bottle label design. 2022

[jillraggett]

Plant of the Day

Wednesday 22 January 2020

In moist microclimates of the Ethiopian Highland forests were wonderful groups of Cyathea manniana (sheshino, spiky tree fern). The stems of this fern are preferred by local communities for house and fencing construction as they are resistant to termites and decay. The fronds have been used for medicinal treatments. The cylinder in the larger tree is a beehive, the local honey is delicious.

Jill Raggett

[chlorophasmic]

The sight above is some unholy fusion between nightmare and daydream, frazzled white strands clung to a stickied face, complexion seeping a tainted scarlet. Colors that stand out from the earth tones of the treehive, splitting the ceiling like lightning where his hair frizzes out from all the tumbling and thrashing you've mutually performed. His voice is the crackle, and puff from his lungs as thick as ozone where it brushes your cheek, humid and uncomfortable and prickling every hair on your neck in a not-so-subtle suggestion to take cover.

It's all bullshit, though. Lightning can fry a tree, but you're not scared of heavenly smiting.

Teeth ground, sending painful laces up your gums, but grounding as you meet him head on- No other choice, the way he's pressed up.

"I don't want you gone."

Claws clenched harder, shoving outward.

"And I never said I was too good for you! I said it's complicated, and you're the one who's not-" A hitch, angling your knee. "-respecting that!"

And jabbing it into the fleshy edge of his midsection, where your attention darts to aim, but it's hard to see much of anything behind the blockage of his chin. It doesn't matter, though. It lands, even as the awkward twist has you wincing. If it hits him harder, it's worth the discomfort.

“That’s not the fucking problem, you are!”

Your eyes are wide and wild with the adrenaline of having managed to flip him, and your chest rises and falls rapidly to catch up with the exertion of yelling, flipping him, and then yelling some more. It’s not hard to imagine how disheveled you must look right now based on the way your hair is haphazardly brushing against your eyelashes now and the uncomfortable trickle of sweat down your back. You’ll probably need to shower after this, maybe Treekat will- Focus, that’s even not the point right now.

Besides, the way that he's scratching at your wrist right now makes it seem like he'll probably want you to fuck off far away from him when this interaction is all said and done. He hasn't actually told you to fuck off yet though, so until then you'll just have to keep pushing your luck (and literally pushing him around) in hopes that you get somewhere.

“You were so concerned about my safety and well-being when I was asleep, and then you turn around and act like you’re too good for me now that I’m actually awake? So yeah, my fucking problem-“

Lean in, your faces almost touching. You want him to feel your warm breath against his face and be unable to look anywhere besides you, so that he can remember who you are when you’re not just asleep or disoriented. You’re you, in all of your sweaty and flushed glory.

“Is that you’re such a know-it-all that you’re convinced we can’t work. And rather than try, you’d prefer to just avoid me instead and hope I go away. Well spoiler alert, I’m not!”

[chlorophasmic]

> You're at the crown of the tree, shimmying your way closer to the feeding outcrop, with a satchel of loose suet strapped to your back, by the time you can get a closer look at the bird who's been watching you since you first stood beneath the perch. It's sleek and trim, feathers folded tightly to its tan form as it continues to monitor your approach with eyes you can't read, too beady and dark to pull data from. No doubt there's some conscious stoicism, as well. Most of the songbirds have already fluttered off the moment your claws sent the intruder alarm reverberating up the length of the trunk.

> It was a tough climb, even with practice. The branches propping your treehive aren't meant to be scaled easily. It's a whole lot of scrabbling before you can snag the lowest footholds, and your body feels it, achy in the familiar places and scratched up where it isn't. Thankfully, with the bark spongier near the new shoots you'd targeted when you'd first slung the feeders, there's not much trouble left. The sun dapples through the canopy overhead, not yet high enough to trap heat where you're crawling closer, along the oldest growth, until..

> Right here! Equidistant along the branch, sat at its thickest point before the tapering becomes dangerous. It's the same spot you'd perched before, with twine instead of seed in hand. The same fibers are swinging softly within arm's reach, anchoring an arrangement of feeders. They don't blot out the light like they did before- Emptied over the winter, they shine transparently over your outstretched arm, glowing onto the sleeve until it's as vibrant as the blood flowing beneath. Closer, closer, mindful of the dove still tracking your every move just a few twigs away..

> But before you can work at the knot, or even pull your supply bag around to your chest, there's a shift in the refractions. There, by the glass of the window overlooking the setup; Your heart stutters over a missing beat, though you're not sure why.

> Is that Karkat? Does he see you? Should you do something so he does?

> Focus shifts, and caution lowers. Before you can course correct the soft tilt of your body, drawn on a string towards the one it recognizes, your arm bumps against plastic, fingers brushing too close to rising feathers. All too soon, they're flaring out!

> A flurry of motion beats an offending wing against your wrist, the panicked bird taking off towards the only clear exit; Beneath your arm! It's all you can do to jerk away from the escape, startled by the trill of its distress call, and.. that.. tilts your balance.

> You catch one last glance of your alternate, an angel in name alone, and wonder if this is what humans see before they go crashing out of trees to die. Then-

> Tumbling backwards, into a tunnel of shimmering emerald! If you didn't know any better, you'd think a doggirl had come to teleport you away, but-

> Snap! A branch shatters against your hip, which pretty much breaks the illusion. Okay- Arms windmilling, you make a blind thrash towards the pulse register of sap, grabbing, until it's burning -

!!

......

...................sss..

> A quarter foot from breaking branchless, your shoulder nearly dislocates from the jerk of your free fall snagged to a sudden halt, and there's a weird, rattling hiss that you almost don't realize is coming from your own grit teeth.

....

> ..But you're safe. Clung against another branch, with bloodstained and stinging hands from the muscle you'd scraped raw trading tissue for tree litter, but. Objectively, very safe! Even swaying, a little, very pleasantly. Which has nothing to do with the shock. Better here than broken below.

> And then your satchel finishes tearing where the splinters had already frayed its strap, and you watch as the entire load of birdfeed goes dropping the rest of the way in a waterfall of grain.

> It makes a pretty noisy smack, when it lands all at once like that. Like a flash rain, composed of sheets. But that doesn't deter the wildlife from swarming in even faster, cautious no longer. The Kat's stuck in the tree, everybody pile in!

> Tiny finches pick their way through a smear of husk and innards that could've been yours.

....

> God.

> Somewhere above, you hear the twitter of a robin's laughter. You stare up towards the sound, beyond the trails of broken, reddened bark.

> Maybe your kismesis will join it.

[trollwizard]

Your name is Fafnir Drakon and you are both the DRAGON and the DAMSEL.

Spending sweeps on a mountain as the UNWILLING CAPTIVE to a draconic lusus that suspected you were the NEXT BIG CATASTROPHE sure did a number on your thinkpan. You're fine now, though. Probably. You just have some trouble with BOUNDARIES, using your powers of MIND READING to skim the surface thoughts and sensations of your VICTIMS friends. You've also been working on your PSYCHOKINESIS. You can't throw boulders around, but you're great at picking apples en masse.

Speaking of APPLES, boy do you have an APPETITE. Anything and everything is on the menu. Theoretically. You wouldn't eat another troll, and you do prefer TASTY TREATS. You might be fueling a deep well of PSYCHIC ENERGY, causing some bizarre CRAVINGS.

You live with your matesprit, KARBAL MONTAZ, in her grand and built-up TREEHIVE in The Woods. You're a bit CLINGY, but she likes that. After all, she keeps you SAFE and WARM; who wouldn't want to cling to that? And don't even get started on that easy smile of hers. You're hopelessly IN LOVE.

In the pale quadrant, you're well occupied with SIGURD MENSCH and BEABEA PTERAN. It may have skirted a CLUBBED affair for a while there as youngins, but you all GET ALONG gloriously now thanks to Bea's gentle guidance over the sweeps.

You go by she/her, and you are 13 sweeps old. Your blood is a pretty goldenrod. You don't do a ton of introspection. Maybe you should?

START THINKIN, FAFS!

[the-rainbow-overflow]

!!

Your name is Dareck Vyrmai.

Your hobbies include woodworking, writing, knife throwing, and observing nature around your giant treehive home, especially the insects.

You're oftentimes written off as nerdy and disinteresting due to your appearance. You're fine with this however. Benefit of the doubt isn't a common thing to receive on Alternia after all. Despite this, you do your best to be kind and respectful to trolls you meet, despite being a little socially awkward.

You're very skilled with many different kinds of blades, as your main source of income comes from making furniture, small wooden figures, pots, statues and most other things you could think of. In your free time you write, or offer criticism on the works of your rival author and biggest critique online.

You don't know many people, due to living out in the woods, away from most people unless you decide to visit town for the night, but the people you do know, you value very much as close friends.

>-(<) You tend to prefix and suffix your sentences with little symbols that look like your beetledad.(>)-<

[num8skull]

Yep. I’m still sick. 

[literalsymbol]

Treehive Friends With Benefits

“Owwww.” A breath sucked harshly between gritted teeth. Hissing through the pain. 

Sancha sat on a rocky river bank, inspecting the wound on his foot. He’d taken off like a shot, running for his life from... a noise. But, like, a really scary one. And, somewhere in the process, a sharp stick had managed to lodge itself in the sole of his foot. It had, of course, been extracted at this point, but the hole remained. As did the lime-bloody stick just a few feet away where he’d thrown it in something of a tantrum. 

He was scooping fresh water into the hollow of his palms and washing at the blood and dirt that had collected around the injury. He looked around for anything sharp enough to carve off some of the cloth from his wrap for a makeshift bandage. There was a reason that river rocks weren’t exactly known for being sharp, though. 

He rocked back in forth, riding out a gentle panic. If someone or something came upon him there, he would be a sitting duck. Or, rather, a sitting chameleon. He couldn’t run with the sizable gash in his foot, and he still felt a bit shaky from the pain. 

Just as he started to mentally map out the distance and direction of his treehive, he heard a new noise. One far less scary than the previous, but still not a welcomed sound. A small crunch, something like a footstep. Not large, but alive and moving. 

He tried desperately to swap his hue, but he was too exhausted to hold anything more alluring than an olive... cusp. It would have to do, given that even it was further sapping his energy. Maybe it would be a deer who didn’t care about his caste. That would be nice. May as well test the theory.

“H-hello?”

[thewertsearch]

The counterweight is the skull of an ancient mother grub, slain thousands of solar sweeps ago.

This skull looks exactly like GA’s lusus. I guess there’s no reason a Mother Grub can’t be a variety of lusus, but it raises some interesting questions about what trolls’ relationship to these creatures actually is.

Like, does this essentially make GA royalty? She’s been adopted by a member of the most important species on Alternia - a creature that might be her birth mother -  and the responsibility of having her as a lusus must be staggering.

No wonder her home is so remote, so massive. The brooding caverns must be right underneath!

The egg contains a rare species of dragon which remains blind until maturity, using its other senses to survive.

Has it been incubating since the Mother Grub skull was placed there, for thousands of sweeps?

In Pokémon, a slow growth rate, or late evolution, is usually indicative of a very powerful species, and I think the same is true in this case. In fact, the Pokémon which exbibits this trait most extremely is a Dragon-type.

As you learned, your dreams became more vivid. Where before there was darkness, odors and flavors painted a striking picture. You found yourself surrounded by bright honey walls, and in the sky was a huge tasty ball of cotton candy, which is this sweet troll delicacy we wouldn't know anything about. 

The first time you caught a glimpse of this world in your dreams, there was no turning back.

Terezi glimpsed the world in her dreams, and she needs to go there.

She doesn’t seem to have learned as much from Skaia as Jade did, though. Terezi knew a little about Sburb before going in, but she didn’t learn about the whole ‘conspiracy’ until around the time Karkat entered.

Despite her access to Prospit, Terezi just couldn't smell this coming. >:[

She would fall to your treehive. On your return, she would be scooped up by a sympathetic ally and deposited into the kernelsprite.

Gamzee, most likely. There's compassion behind that sopor-addled haze.

[the-rainbow-overflow]

Beetle guy. A hobbiest writer who lives in a treehive.

Makes a living off of wooden sculptures, furniture and various other things.

Judgement meme :3c

Reblog with one troll and Mochi will say something about them for sure. It is a fleet troll. Is it a known being? It doesn't know nor care, as its job is the only thing that matters at this moment. However it is on break and could use something to pass the time!

Judge backs are not required but are always fun :)!!!