i imagine he's very fastidious, prim and proper, and takes LOTS of baths to get out the random woods crap from the inside of his hole-filled body.
that is, with a physical interpretation. there's something to be said about the difficulties of managing those antlers between trees as well as the holes; it's more likely he IS the forest, manifested and thus would have no problems with that. we have fun, at least.
Actually, people are right. I grew up on Tumblr when it was a safe space (unclear if it was but that's how I perceived it) but it's like watching a parent become a belligerent drunk with radical opinions over the years. Tumblr and 4chan really are sides of the same stupid Fucking Coin.
I think this article explains it best.
First of all, fuck Webs.Com's blogging platform for not having an auto-save feature. I spent an hour trying to fucking write this list, and
I've seen all these things over the years ... Perhaps Tumblr is what's made me such a cynical and rough person over the years.
Where should I go, though? Not many places are better...
I'll keep you updated in case for whatever reason you wanna follow my art still.
Recalled my old otgw oc!! Her name is Ramona, she's some sorta chronicler of the Unknown. She knows all the lore and history, but she's a witch and her cottage is hidden so well you can't find her if you'll seek with an intent. But if you just wander – who knows, maybe you'll meet her one day. She's nice, but introversive and rarely comes into social places. Also she has a dog, will show later.
The text says "she doesn't remember what she intended to write"
Sitting exhausted in a forest clearing, thin edelbranches slowly creep up your legs. Inches away from relinquishing yourself, you're being circled like a shark. Glowing eyes from behind the trees stare back hungrily with an intimidation that hopes to break you.
"If I am to be condemned, so be it,"
you shout to the shadow,
"but a predator must consume prey to live. Voice of the wind, If I should die here, at least let me feel what you are. I have no malice, you are a beautiful thing. Please, grant me this."
A strange request. The eyes beyond the branches stop circling for a moment: silent, perplexed. Not granting this wish would surely let this stranger succumb quicker, but more will come...there will be more to feed the flame. He is inevitable. This was too strange to ignore, and might prove a powerful ally. Who would challenge his intimidation? What was he missing?
Held down by branches, you can't flinch. Your vision flashes to blackness, just to see two huge spotlight eyes so close to you.
"I've never seen anyone quite so bold," an incredulous, but nonetheless impressed bass replies.
He rattles you to your core like thunder. You're terrified, but still, his beauty is undeniable.
"I am not your hope, and yet, you...speak with such reverence. Make it quick."
You're shocked. He's so close to you, and you can feel the aura of cold, unforgiving death screaming at you to leave. You swallow it down, some gleam inside you chasing a forbidden fruit.
You can't see anything. Reaching out into the void, you feel something smooth, textured. It's bumpy, warped, with no semblance of life underneath. It feels like driftwood, carved into round shapes that slope like dunes, tiny pits bored into the surface. It's so alien, and yet...you know this is the voice of the night that has been chasing you for all this time. The ground at the end of the long drop. Thin veins, like roots, crawl around what you can only assume are his shoulders. A rough, slightly matted fur coat sits at his shoulders. You can feel tension in the air.
When your tiny, warm hands wander to the nape of his neck, he flinches hard. You draw your hand back quickly, his eyes flashing pastel rings in an uncomfortable squint before settling back down.
Perhaps this is new to him. It's hard to believe.
You can feel...rumbling. is this purring? Has he ever been touched by honest human hands, with no malice? His body, oddly enough, amplifies the sound. It's like he's his own acoustic chamber.
Your hands wander upwards. As you approach his cheek, his comforting rumble stops. He shifts, gripping your tiny arm with thin fingers digging into your flesh. Oddly, one seems to flex irregularly, as if it's been injured in the past.
"that's enough."
He stares daggers into you, then with the howling of the wind, disappears in an instant, leaving you alone and drunk with knowledge no other lost soul has.
The moonlight is back. You can see that, at some point, Your legs had been freed. Perhaps the branches of condemnation had retreated from a moment of bliss, in the face of the void.
He's so smooth, still so beautiful even if you couldn't see a thing; huge, more like a thing than a man, but with an elegance that you can't ignore. You're so tiny, warm, fragile. Able to smile in the face of annihilation.
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