♥ liked by @crypticCrimelord
i am THRILLED to announce the opening of the botanics of earth-c quantum uranium enrichment research and laboratories, also known as the becquerel center!!! this is just the first step in creating a sanctuary for the botanical life that can be found all over our wonderful planet, and the first step in our multi-pronged educational outreach program!!! keep tuned for more announcements and events in the future as we continue to expand!!! #earthc #botanicalgarden #scientificoutreach #educationaloutreach
english is one of the few languages where you can rhyme in concept and in sound many other languages dont actually give a shit if you rhyme in sound a lotta the time because eighty percent of like conjugations in spanish heh conjuga like conjugal anyway eighty percent of like conjugations in spanish all have the same ending so its not as impressive to end a sentence in a way that sounds the same so the focus needs to be on flow and rhythm and wordplay and storytelling rap is an art you are painting a vivid picture of your opponents humiliation in order to make that shit hit its gotta mean something not just be words that sound like other words sometimes maybe there needs to be poeticism in your lyricisms shit i dont pretend to be perfect but i like to be a skald ass motherfucker on my lil beat kick anyway ándele @timaeusTestified#0414
#gore #verylight #fire [There are no cameras. No one will ever see. You, the reader, do not see this, not really. You, the Tavros, you see this. The wind blows gently around you as you look up at the journal factory. It lives in what was once a vast meadow and is surrounded by trees to block the view for the commercial sectors that have to exist too close to it. The false forest is still a touch scorched from the recent explosion a few months back. You lost some good friends in that explosion. And now? It will imminently burn down. Seventy eight trolls will die. That is what you were told. You called in the danger, but it wasn't taken seriously. All that there's left to do is to wait. You can't do anything until the fire's started. Or rather, you don't want to risk being the one at fault in the first place. The wind carries his voice. She wishes you true luck. The wind carries the birds above, circling the factory. They are your eyes. @godCat rests upon your shoulder. A friend. The squirrels, the mice, the deer, the animals that have managed to eke out a living in this place, they prepare. Your head is pounding. You're stretched thin. Even like this, not all are With you. The ones that aren't, you've convinced to stick around regardless. Silence. Maybe it was all just a bad joke. The wind kicks up around you. Silence. Just a jerk online saying things to get a reaction. Sillence. A songbird cries out. The wind pushes you forwards. The spark has been lit. It has been spotted through a window on the far side. You don't even think to smother it. The journal factory will burn down. Seventy eight trolls will die. Fate can only be denied so far. You run, faster than you ever remember running. You're not sure your feet are even hitting the asphalt. A small legion of woodland critters charges forth, descending upon the factory. You hit the front doors faster than should be possible. They're locked. Of course they are. You step back then raise your arm, palm facing the doors. Gcat disappearifies them and you rush in. Outside, you coordinate deer smashing windows, birds gathering nesting materials about the building, mice and squirrels finding any way in they can... Your head is pounding. The first thing you do is pull the nearest fire alarm you see. It hadn't even been going off yet. You hope that just that will be enough to get a good chunk of people out quicker. The animals pouring into the building make quick work in escorting (read: harassing and corraling) employees out of the building. For now, the stairs and hallways and doors are enough, but they're quickly growing crowded in the confusion. You practically fly up the stairs. Your eyes outside report smoke. A concerning amount. Running. Running. Running. Gcat teleports you past people headed down the stairs. A few floors up, you can finally smell the smoke. The staircase is growing crowded. The mice open windows and the birds manage to draw attention to the soft landing pads they've created outside. People are jumping, and screaming, and landing fine. The wind takes you further and further up, you can see the blaze before you- the wind stops. You stop. You nearly ran headfirst into a beam. You direct Gcat to remove it, and it's gone. Your animal friends haven't gotten this far up. You wouldn't ask them to brave the flames. You can hear shouts. People are stuck, trapped, afraid. You swallow hard. The wind behind you picks back up. You pull out an oogonibomb and crush it in your hand. The goop trails down your forearm and drips onto the ground below. A capybara-esque creature, but with far too many legs, scuttles out. It looks around the blazing room, looks back and you, and nods. You move on as it starts spraying water from its tear ducts, dousing the flames where it can. The shouts are getting louder. There are people up here. Trapped. They need you. It's hot in here, but the wind at your back wicks off your sweat and keeps you cool. This building is a maze, yet you travel it like you know the way perfectly. Pure instinct guides you. When burning rubble falls to block your path, Gcat warps it away and you continue. You are still managing so, so many beasts. Your head is pounding. You come to a split in the hallway. Left or right. You look left. You look right. Nothing obvious. You hear a call for help from the right. You look left. You chew on your lip. They call again. You hesitate. You hear rubble falling. You go right. You soon come to a room fully ablaze. Smoke curls around, clogging the air, yet when you inhale your lungs stay clean. The smoke parts around you as you enter. Someone is calling for help. You call back. You let them know they are heard. They're buried. She's buried. Something in your stomach twists. As you step towards the center of the room the wind follows. The windows slam open, the smoke is blown out, but you don't notice. You wave your hand and Gcat disappears the rubble crushing the stranger. You grab her. She can't stand. You're out the window. You float down gently, landing on a giant nest. The building is totally lit up. Firetrucks and professionals have arrived and are beginning to douse the flames. The journal factory will be lost. People will have to continue using Chittr. You recall all the beasts you can to safety. They've done so, so much. Your head is pounding. The wind guides you guide the stranger towards the medical responders and help her onto a stretcher. You don't catch her name. The factory is beginning to collapse into itself. The air about you is silent. You are winded. When did that slight sprinkle begin? A warm season rain, sticky and hot and humid. You are gone before the flames are. You've done what you could. The adrenaline is dying down and you can feel your cuts and scrapes and bruises and burns. The news reports on this. The journal factory has burnt down. Fourteen trolls died. The prompt response of the firefighters and the fortuitous rainfall are credited for the relatively low loss of life, though many workers make reports about inconceivable wildlife behavior. Investigations are undergoing into what started the fire and the fire code violations found. Arson is not out of the question. You haven't seen any of this yet. You go to your friend's wriggling day party.]
HTTPS://MED1A1.TENOR.COM/M/S_8P1e-mcxyaaaaD/DAWN-OF-THE-FIRST-DAY-HOURS-REMAIN.GIF
i AM EXTREMELY PROUD TO HAVE BEEN, iNVITED TO WHAT i THINK IS MAYBE, tHE FIRST CREATOR EVENT i HAVE BEEN, iNVITED TO HOLD CEREMONY FOR, tHAT IS, i AM HOLDING THE GIANT, aND i MEAN *LARGE* SCISSORS, tHAT i USED TO CUT THE RIBBON, fOR THE GRAND REOPENING OF THE LAUDED, jOURNAL FACTORY AFTER THE TRAGIC EXPLOSION, wHICH CAUSED IMMENSE LOSS OF LIFE, iN A VERY TRAGIC AND SERIOUS WAY, bUT NOW, bUT NOW, iT HAS BEEN REBUILT AND,,, wILL NOT BURN DOWN IN APPROXIMATELY, 3 N1GHTS, 12 HOURS, 44 MINUTES, aND SEVENTY-EIGHT TROLLS WILL NOT, dIE, #W1NNING
💎 Might I suggest you don't fuck with my sis? https://i.postimg.cc/prVz8pF7/00B37D9B-CFD7-4A70-8B2B-1B783E5EECE6.jpg @coronateCruelty #languagewarning
💎 Morality is a fool's game when the vulnerable have been wounded, darling!
anyway the s1llence 1s rack1ng up to be my favor1te so far. they even #haveabomb
[|87 :: Oh 1 am far from worr;ed. 1 am actually qu;te ;ntr;gued. Come stop by the lab for some tanner;te ;f you need more bang for your buck
[|87 :: @crypt;cCr;melord for some fuk;n reason 1 guess. https://med;a1.tenor.com/m/PC7xk6nct3EAAAAd/josheats15-gary-theres-a-bomb-strapped-to-my-chest.g;f
𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘: @truculenttempest you Remember When They Separated You From The Rest Of The Jades In The Caverns, Your Matron And Her Assistant. The Younger Jadeblood's Expression Should Have Been A Sign Of What Was To Come, Should Have Alerted You To The Despair That You Were Going To Feel Yourself Plunged Into, But You Were So Proud. So Proud Of Yourself, As A Nurturing Presence In The Caverns, That You Never Could Have Anticipated The Direction Your Life Would Take. You Were So Proud, And So Young. you Had Been Specifically Pointed Out As Inadequate, But Your Eyes And Your Heart Told You The Truth. The High-hatched Indigo That Had Listed Your Inadequacies Had An Air Of Ulterior Purpose About Her, Something That Your Two Superiors Had Surely Understood. Had Known But Turned A Blind Eye To, Lest They Succumb To The Bureaucratic Cruelty Of A Coldblood Spurned. the First Few Perigees At Her Estate Made Clear The Expectation Of Your Role. You Were To Be A Doll For Her To Dress And Play With, Not A Troll With Thoughts Of Your Own. Not A Fully Realized Individual, Simply A Rare Toy To Show, On Occasion, To Trolls That Never Saw Past The Perfectly Applied Makeup And Hollow Smiles To The Growing, All Consuming Void Within You. it Wasn't Until She Tried To Play With You In A Different Way That You Truly Snapped. Despite Her Overwhelming Cold-blooded Strength, She Could Not Comprehend Of The Depth Of Your Fury, The Desire For Your Own Autonomy To Be Restored. She Saw You As A Means To All Sorts Of Gratification, Both In Status And For Her Own Twisted Pleasure, Not As A Sentient Being, And That Was Her Downfall. The Whole World Swam Blue With Her Blood, It Filled Your Mouth And Spilled Over As You Chewed Through The Chitin, Flesh, And Cartilage That Made Her Throat. you Knew You Were Doomed From The Moment You Tasted Her Salty Blood In Your Mouth, But You Couldn't Bring Yourself To Care. You Left Her Carcass Behind, Fled The Manor With Only The Scraps Of Your Dignity, Stained With Her Mortality, And Fled Into The Depths Of A Forest To Lose Yourself Entirely. You Hoped The Wilderness Would Manage To Tear The Remaining Vestiges Of Your Existence To Shreds, But Instead You Were Found. shivering, Horrified, Still Coated In Your Adversary's Viscera, A Gentle Hand Found Your Head, And Stroked Between Your Horns. The Growling Voice Of A Lusus, And The Softest Fur You Had Ever Felt Pressed In Around You, A Muzzle Lifting You To Your Feet As Troll And Howlbeast Guided You To A Secret Place, Meant To Hide Another Broken Troll From The Supposed Compassion Of Beforan Society. after The Howlbeast Died, Your Companion, Your Lover, Your Savior, Took From Her Corpse Her Luxurious Pelt, And Crafted A Coat Fit For The Empress. They Draped You In It, And You Both Sank Your Faces Into The Familiar White Fur, Sharing In Mourning And Comfort From Her Presence Still. Only When You Came To Find A Young, Freshly Pupated Mutant Troll, Pitiful And Directionless, Culled From The Moment Of His Hatching, Did You Ever Even Consider That Another Soul Might Need The Comfort Of That Soft Fur More Than You Yourself. #noncon #impliedtrafficking #beforus #beforanculling #nsfw #gore #death culture. 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗 https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1faipqlsekfh6j2vgskoqsezds9n0t5tnb8gtkihiapootjcd9yp3hmw/viewform?usp=header
SO true. fe1gn1ng ‘n1ce’ can really do the tr1ck when anyone above you’s base expectat1on 1s grovel1ng or putt1ng the1r needs above yours. l1ke, no dog, 1’m putt1ng you 1n my pocket as a surpr1se tool to help me later lol lmfao
TRY SKIPPING THE SUBTEXT NEXT TIME AND WE CAN SEE IF HE MANAGES TO CATCH ANYTHING.
eh, worth a shot
What a rag-tag group that just commented on that post all to tell me not to worry about it.